#i would never want to be a child again but i miss those days sometimes

[beauzos]

do you ever just remember stuff you used to watch as a kid and go hunting for it. i just remembered a bunch of old warrior cats videos i used to watch in like 2009 and started watching them and god. i still feel so much affection for these videos. but also, like. you just had to be there i don't think anyone in 2024 is going to get anything from watching demonslyr Warrior Cats spoof vids if you hadn't seen them as a child in 2009 you feel me

[k2ntoss]

I need more baby daddy Jason. Maybe sitting at the park watching him with ur kids and hearing the other moms ogling over him

yall dangerously feeding my brain rot and it's giving me a baby fever i do not wish to feed !!!!!!!!!!! but whoever says baby daddy jason you have my heart rn bc i adore that man!!!!!!!!!!!

by the end of the week it was already time for your kids to go out and have a pretty day at the park, jason had been really busy lately so you took the stroller and placed your babygirl on it before calling your boy, living copy of jason when he was a kid and you couldn't want it any other way because both of your babies had those pretty emerald eyes you so adored.

the way to the park was easy, those two kids had a way to be pretty little angels when it came to go out to the park and you loved that because jason would usually catch up with you sometimes when the work was too much and today was one of those days. your little boy was six and your little girl four, which made it a bit hard to have him playing around and keeping an eye on your babygirl but as soon as jason joined you it was time for the girl to also leave your arms.

jason has been an amazing dad, always making sure his kids and girl were just fine, that they had everything they could ever need and want and it was easy to see in the way the little girl giggles loudly when he sweeps her out of your arms and walks to the playground while you sit, keeping an eye on your son and it's easy to hear the small group of moms muttering and giggling close to where you're sitting.

"do you think he's single? maybe divorced... he just came and picked up the girl from her arms" one of the women says and you roll your eyes because you know how damn well jason looks and how easy it is for him to trigger a baby fever in anyone but the small pang of possessiveness and jealousy that stirs in your chest is there.

"he didn't kissed her, i bet she is the kids' mom but they're not together... i should try and get his number," oh, over your damn dead body anyone would even dare to try and getting jason's number but you know better so you sit, looking at your family with a fond smile because now your two kids are held by jason.

you look at him and you can tell he's been working out more recently because he seems fitter, a little less of that dad body he had gotten since your second child was born and you loved how he looked, broad and muscly but there was a little tummy that only made you drool even more for the father of your kids.

you had to endure the comments and ogling from that group of moms for at least half an hour until you decided you had enough. walking over the place where jason was playing with the kids you stood close, looking at him with a smile when he lifted his head to glance at you and the glint on his eyes made you heart flutter, he picked up the kids on his arms and strode towards you with the widest smile ever amd without saying anything else he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your lips.

"hey there, ma," he whispered still close to your face "i missed you..." the words never fail to make your whole body shudder as you stand in front of the love of your life because that's what jason was, flaws and everything he was everything you could ever want.

"missed you too, jaybird... mind if we take the kids for ice cream?" you ask with a soft tone and it's easy for him to notice what's going on when you don't even pull away but stand even closer while looking up at him like a lovestruck teen again.

that's when jason gently places your girl in the stroller and wraps his free arm around your waist before he peppers a few kisses on your neck earning a chuckle from you and a soft 'yuck' from your boy's lips.

"daddy! stop kissing mommy! let's go for ice cream" and the childish protest makes jason smirk, knowing now he had yet to deal with a whole bunch of spoiled babies instead of just you but he wouldn't have it any other way and like that, with his arm still around your waist jason makes the way to get ice cream and you can satisfiedly feel the disappointment in the group of moms that were shamelessly planing to hit on jason.

[zwhoreo]

mommy kink luffy? 👀

ok so I don’t think luffy would ever actually use the word mommy but I think the rest of the kink can apply hehehe

nurture me - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: missing the comfort of a nurturing female figure as a child, luffy sometimes turns to you to get that feeling back. and sometimes, he wants sex

contains: mommy kink (the word mommy is never mentioned), very innocent luffy, he’s pretty sub in this one, soft dom reader

words: 2k

_______________________________

Luffy is upset today, he’s not sure why, he’s feeling this rush of some sort of unplaceable loneliness even though he isn’t alone at all, surrounded by people to love and spend time with and hug. He had fallen and broken a stack of glasses in the kitchen yesterday, and he was chastised for his clumsiness, smacked by Nami, shoved out by Sanji. He had cut his arm on the glass, nothing deep, nothing a couple bandaids from Chopper’s office couldn’t fix, but it still made him a little sad and distressed for some reason. He needed comfort but pushed it away and forgot about it.

So now he’s sitting on the bow of the ship and picking at the bandaids. He wants to go bother you, he needs some comfort, a hug from you seems to be an immediate fix for times like these. And maybe something more, he thinks, like playtime, sort of.

You’re reading a book Robin gave you, curled up on your cabin’s chair, the porthole open next to you for that crisp sea breeze. You’re delighted at those little sandal steps, your door opening, large, glittery eyes looking at you excitedly.

Luffy hops on your bed, rolling on his back and kicking his legs and reaching for you, a teasing grabbing motion with his fists. Absolutely adorable.

You lean over to take his hand, he squirms and giggles at the contact and he’s smiling so brightly.

“[naaame]…” he whines, trying to pull you to him but you pull instead, still holding his stretched arm as you sit back in the chair. He pouts and stretches his other arm out to you.

“No pulling, Luffy,” you say, gently removing one arm from your waist knowing his intention to yank you into bed.

“Please… can we please cuddle… I wanna really bad…” Luffy’s squirming again, begging, you just can’t resist him.

You set down your book, walking over to your bed and sitting by him which makes him squeal in delight and open his arms for a hug. You lay back and pull him up onto you, letting him bury his head in your chest and find a comfortable position as you pet his hair.

He likes to be nurtured. It’s a childish part of him that comes out sometimes, especially when he thinks about his old village and Ace and Sabo and Shanks, when he misses getting to play and explore all day and just be a kid. But he didn’t really have anyone back then to take care of him like this. Makino was the closest, he got a taste of the affection a mother could bring, but mostly he was just raised by himself and his brothers, and bandits, and he wasn’t really ever cuddled or held when he was young. So now you’re his person, he gets to be extra close to you and he’ll never be too much.

And usually he’s more dominant, even in his innocence and softness, he’s your captain and you’re his to take care of and keep safe, he picks you up and carries you and holds you against his chest, you’re his, he likes being in control.

But that doesn’t have to be always.

Those times like now where he paws at you and lays on you all slack like a baby, you just curl up with your arms around him and murmur comforting things in his ear. There’s those deer eyes again, searching, he’s leaning in to kiss you and you catch him halfway with his cheeks squished in your hands. Arms circle your waist needily and this poor boy has squirmed his way between your legs because he wants friction, maybe.

“Lu, hun, what do you want?” you coax gently, tracing his shoulders, you know he wants you so bad but he has to try to say what he wants if he wants something, that’s what you’re teaching him.

“Um… I dunno, I guess uh…” Luffy’s mind is cloudy, he wants your body but he doesn’t know what to ask for so when your thigh comes to naturally rest between his legs he just settles for this, at least.

You laugh lightly as he begins to grind on your leg, hips rutting, rhythmic but messy, he starts making these little whimpering noises in your ear as he rubs himself on you like a puppy in heat. You let him, hugging gently and just laying there listening.

“I… mm! I wanna suck your breasts?” He seems excited to have found words, talking casually as he continues to get himself off on your thigh, aching and growing beneath his pants. You can’t refuse him.

“Sure, hun.” This is perfect because you’re a little tired. Let your boy enjoy himself and relax with him and it’ll all be ok. And you pull off your shirt, you let him see you, and he grins before squeezing you tightly and latching on, suckling gently on your nipple while looking up at you with stars in his soft brown eyes.

“S’ good…” he growls, mouth full, nuzzling and gripping against you.

You lift him into your arms after a few minutes, when he gets teeth-y with your skin, he whines at the loss of contact with his mouth but lets you pick him up and place him in your lap, squeezing his face in your hands, giving him a caring hug.

“Luffy, baby, you want more, huh? C’mon…” You place your hand on the small of his back, rubbing his skin.

“Mmf… I wanna put my dick in you,” he says, voice in the most amount of innocence he could possibly sound with those words. You weren’t expecting this, usually he’s more innocent when you two play, when he asks for something, but you won’t complain.

You smile. You pet him lovingly, gentle praise. You kiss his cheek and then his mouth and he’s still in a teething mood so you need to pull away when he bites your lip, but you press his face into your neck because you always like biting there.

“Want some help?” you coo to him, tugging at his clothes, and he nods happily against you and makes a tiny sound.

His shirt is open, easy to slide off. Glistening warm skin meets the cool sunlight of the porthole, wave reflections, he’s so beautiful when you can see his bare shoulders. You take a moment to lean in and kiss them. And then his jeans, you have to sort of pick him up again to unbutton and remove them and his cock slaps your wrist, no underwear, you ignore your aching need to touch it and continue to take care of him, settling his twitching hips and tossing his clothes to the side.

Soft and bare, dripping with sweetness and innocence, he’s draped on you, sitting in your lap, naked and waiting to be touched in a gentle way.

Your shirt’s off. Now your jeans, your panties, Luffy starts moaning and thrusting into nothing at your scent and the feeling of your skin but you have to calm him.

“No, baby, let’s be patient ok?” You poke his cheek and he whines but just curls into you a little more, trying to wait like you’ve taught him.

You switch the positions of your legs, you’re on his lap, propped up on the bed, sort of straddling him, he’s sitting in front of you with his cock rubbing through your wetness, eyes hooded in pleasure, he’s waiting for your command because he’s yours to comfort and hold and protect right now.

“[naaame]…” he whines in such a little voice, staring up through his hair, begging.

“Move like this…” you murmur, lining up his hips so he can rub against you for a while, and get you wet. He does so in a careful way, biting his lip as he tries not to plunge within you just yet. You’re still so tired, you want lazy, careful sex. But Luffy’s the one who needs to be looked after and cared for right now. Nurture me, is what his eyes say, mind in a space so far away.

So once you’re warmed up and once Luffy’s being tortured by need and the rising and falling of his chest is pressed to you with brutal pressure, you smile and reach down to line him up yourself. He squeaks as he feels the touch of your hand down there, and the cocoon of velvet enveloping him, you can move just be gentle like I taught you, your smile says.

So he does. Instinctual thrusting fueled by pure love and appreciation, his hands reaching to grip your ass and lift you up more against him, he’s getting a little more dominant but just in an excited, playful sort of way. You hold him, you put your arms around his shoulders and breathe in his scent.

“So good, Lu, you’re doing so well…” you whisper in his ear as he works you into pulp, grabby hands, needy whines.

He likes to feel grown up but still be cared for. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he likes to be shown how. He likes to be cradled but to feel you so deep, his infinitely loving girlfriend who knows his needs, who would give him the world.

It comes eventually, that confusing knot in his stomach, now is the time he wants to be held the most. You squeeze him so tight and let him squirm in your arms as you carry him in coaxing gentleness through his powerful climax. He drips within you, you’ve claimed him with the comforting warmth of your body.

You make sure to pull him out and wipe him off and even in his hazy, submissive state he still makes sure to rub your hips and thighs and make sure you’re ok and nothing hurt you. “Was that good? Did I do good?” he murmurs as he squirms onto his back in your arms like a cat looking for affection.

“So good.”

Luffy’s restless now, he needs to occupy his mouth which he often does before sleep for self-soothing, and he’s going to nurse right now, curled up in your arms. So he reaches for your breasts again but that’s when you see his arm.

“Hey Lu, what’s that? Did you hurt yourself?” You lift his forearm for examination and he blushes in slight shame. Because you then say, “when did this happen? You shoulda told me!”

“Um, yesterday. I dunno… I fell and broke some glasses and I thought you’d get mad, it’s just a scratch, I’m fine.” He avoids your eyes.

“I’d never be mad at you for something like that, it’s ok, accidents happen.” You run your hand through his hair. “These bandaids aren’t fresh, we gotta get you new ones, hun…”

“N- no! Don’t leave… I don’t wanna let go!” Because he’s attached to you in a tight embrace and can’t picture a world without your arms right now.

“It’ll just be a minute-”

“Carry meee! Please, please, please-” He’s scrambling up your body as you begin to sit up so you let him. You stand up shakily because Luffy is glued to your back, arms around your shoulders and face buried in your neck.

You get bandaids from your cabinet, you have to pry Luffy off of you and let him curl up in your lap again so you can gently change clean and re-bandage his scraped arm. This protective kindness lulls Luffy, it makes him sleepy and happy and like he needs to take a long nap with you which, from the beginning, is what you were excited for. Pulling a curtain over the porthole you’re back to laying on your bed, letting Luffy drift off with his mouth on your breast, calming and grounding for both of you. His hands find yours in his dreamy state, holding on, wanting you to know how much he loves you, in a quiet and innocent way.

[angelsrcute]

7 WEEKS AND 3 DAYS. 𝜗𝜚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Scaramouche + Sub!FReader ➜ cws: angsty, toxic relationship, asshole scara, abuse, one sided love(?), kitchen sex, getting ghosted, unprotected sex, raw sex, manipulation, reader gets pregnant. ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭‎ — I do not condone these actions irl, this mostly shows how the reader is in a toxic relationship but can't get out of it. Also this is my first time done this type of a lyric fanfic!!

Scaramouche, who wouldn't know him? He was a popular guy. Though he wasn't a nice guy, a delinquent. Had the worst friend group, and slept around a lot. Any girl would die to have a night with him. So what happens when he starts hanging around you? You brushed it off thinking he just wanted to have a good fuck with you. All your friends had warned you about him, how bad he was. You mostly ignored him. Detentions and parent calls, very normal for him, not like his parents cared. Doing drugs, partying, and bullying sometimes.

All my friends say "fuck you".

But could you ignore his sweet words? holding your hand as you two watched the stars. How could you ignore his promises as he kisses the back of your hand, you of course fell in love with him. Hands on your waist as you sat on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. The kiss was passionate, not like some low effort kiss. Oh, how much you loved this man. That night you confessed to him, his face brightening up as he landed more kisses to your face. Laughing in his arms till your stomach hurt.

But I can't help but love you.

You let him into your house, even gave him a spare key. Went on dates, you forgot what everyone said about him. This is true love, he was nothing like the rumours. Daily texts and phone calls, missing each other even though you two meet daily. He even opened up to you, about his family. But once you both slept together, things started to change. You felt like he was spending less time with you. You thought it was because of how busy he was, you'd always stay awake at night, waiting for him to come back. You were so worried. He'd see your texts very late, whenever you asked to go out with him, he'd always make an excuse.

And even though you ran me out dry.

When he'd come home drunk, he'd sometimes hurt you, calling you a possessive bitch for questioning him so much. But would still apologise to you with tears in his eyes, promising he wouldn't do it again, cradling you like some child who's scared. You'd forgive him at the end, maybe he just had a bad day or was in a bad mood, it's alright, everyone has those types of days. It'd still happen, everytime. He got jealous very easily too, and wouldn't let you talk to other guys. Maybe now you're seeing his true colours, but he cherishes you so much, right?

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I swear this won't happen again, don't be scared okay? please."

I still think you're a decent guy, Why?

Hands wrapping around your waist as he leaves trails of kisses on your skin. Bending you over the kitchen counter, “Forget the food, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you.” His cock thrusting into your cunt, it hurt, but you stayed quiet. He was never gentle with you, always leaving bruises. He shoots his load in your cunt, making you all warm and dumb.

On the rare days that he visited you, it would always lead to sex. You wonder if he sees you as nothing but an object. Silly thoughts, he's just showing you his love.

I should've caught him by his last name

You were pregnant, what a happy news. Maybe this will fix your relationship? You hoped so, desperately wanted him to look at you with the same eyes he once used to. Scaramouche never replied to you nor picked up your calls. Had he ghosted you? no this wasn't supposed to happen, he's just busy, right?

Tears fell from your eyes as you waited for your husband to come back, which he never did. Ah, what a dumb fucker you are, of course this was all a game. He didn't want to love a single person, he just wanted to have relief. What a shame your kid would never be able to see his father. Would he look just like scaramouche? You dreaded the thought.

You still believed that scaramouche loved you, at least you did, every moment.

It's been seven weeks and three days.

[lazycats-stuff]

Batfam x M reader hwere the reader is Bruce's older brother, who decided to move away from Gotham after a really big fight between him and Bruce (before Dick was adopted) Bruce wanted to reach out, but never really did because he thought the reader hated him. At some point the reader decided to come back to Gotham and meet with Bruce because he got married and had a kid, but his partner died and he needed support + his kid wanted to know about their uncle. Now total shock on the batfam part because they have an uncle??? And Bruce didn't tell them??? Now they try to build a relationship, but Bruce is still a bit distant because he feels guilty

Oh, this screams angst and fluff at the same time, aaah. Also, 1.5k followers, thank you everyone. My questionable writing is nice and good it seems.

Summary: Bruce's and (Y/N)'s relationship broke down. (Y/N) reaches out.

Warnings: fluff, angst and all in between.

(Y/N) wiped his tears yet again. He lost his husband a month or so ago and it wasn't easy by any means. They had adopted a little girl a few years ago and they named her Anna. She is an adorable little girl and a smart one too. But kids are always perceptive in certain ways. (Y/N) put the photos of his husband down and turned to the little patter of feet coming towards him.

He turned to his little girl, putting her in his lap while they sat on the couch quietly. (Y/N) smiled at his daughter, but just that made him hurt. But he needed to be strong for his little girl. She needed a strong parent right now, more than anything in the world. That was something that she needed.

Not weakness. Anna was hurting too and she needed nothing but support... But (Y/N) needs his support too. He needs someone to turn too. He can only be strong for so long. And not to mention, there were so many bills to pay and he didn't know how... Oh dear God.

" Hey honey, can't sleep? " (Y/N) asked his daughter, who nodded yawning.

" Yeah... I miss papa. " She said quietly and (Y/N) took everything in him to not break down in front of his daughter.

" I miss papa too honey. "

" Can you tell me more about uncle Bruce? " Anna asked in her innocent childlike way, not knowing how complex the situation was. (Y/N) didn't blame her in the slightest, wanting to know more about your family is something normal. Even though you are a child and adopted one too, wanting to know more makes (Y/N)'s heart even warmer.

" Well, your uncle Bruce is my younger brother. " (Y/N) started, smiling at his daughter, despite the pain he felt. Bruce was always a sore subject for him. Deep down inside he loved Bruce, but the fight they had broke that love. He adjusted his daughter in his arms and continued.

" He is brave, courageous. Annoying sometimes, but that's normal. Everyone is a little bit annoying sometimes. " (Y/N) said, making Anna giggle, for the first time in a few days.

" Why he never comes? " Anna asked and (Y/N)'s heart was hit with sorrow and pain.

" We don't like one another. Sometimes adults don't like each other and don't speak about it. " (Y/N) said and Anna tilted her head in wonder and curiosity.

" Why? "

" Adults are complex. Complicated. " (Y/N) explained and the little girl hummed, tilting her head.

" Really dad? "

" Yes love. " (Y/N) responds and she simply gets out of his lap to look at the pictures of her papa. She sighed quietly and glanced back at her dad.

" I want to meet uncle Bruce. " Anna stated and (Y/N)'s heart started beating faster and faster. He doesn't really want to. He doesn't want to open up those old wounds...

Would Bruce even want to meet her?

" I can try honey. " (Y/N) swallowed and Anna's smile was worth it. Really worth the anxiety and the stress he is about to go through. And maybe he needs family in this situation.

Support sounds great right now.

" Thank you dad. " Anna said and left to go back to her room. (Y/N) smiled. Bruce would love her.

But (Y/N) isn't going to like this.

That next morning, Anna went to kindergarten and (Y/N) has decided to call Bruce to set up a meeting. He can't just come by unannounced, even though the manor is also his, he just can't. It would be rude, considering the fact that Bruce had four boys, one biological it seems.

And Bruce took over the Wayne Enterprises too, so he must be busy. And being Batman too is not an easy feat. But around 10 am, (Y/N) called Bruce, nervous and anxious beyond belief. This is not something he would have done if it weren't for the fact that his daughter asked him too.

" (Y/N)? " It rang out in (Y/N)'s ear and (Y/N) took a deep breath.

" Yes, it's me B. " (Y/N) answered, using an old nickname from their childhood.

" It has been what, 5 years... " Bruce hesitated and (Y/N) let out a little yeah in response.

" How is life? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) teared up for a second before calming down.

" My husband passed away recently. " (Y/N) said and the silence was loud.

" I'm sorry to hear that... I didn't know you got married... " Bruce said and (Y/N) winced quietly.

" Yeah... It was small. We also adopted a little girl. " (Y/N) said and he swore he heard a deep breath on the other side.

" A nice change. " Bruce said and (Y/N) chuckled. A joke about the fact that Bruce has all boys... It's nice to joke around.

" And Anna wants to meet her uncle Bruce. "

" You talked to her about me? "

" Yup. She was curious. " (Y/N) answered and Bruce chuckled again. " And I need help... I feel like I'm drowning. " (Y/N) said, wiping his tears.

" What do you mean? " Bruce asked, wanting more explanation.

" I'm drowning in bills and I need some emotional support. And I don't want to seem like I'm calling for money, but- " (Y/N) started rambling, but Bruce cut him off.

" Don't. I know you didn't call for money. Besides, that's your money too. "

" Well, I lived humbly for so long, I forgot I was rich I guess. " (Y/N) chuckled quietly, sitting down on the couch in the process.

" I guess so... If you need help, I'll... I'll be more than happy to help. " Bruce offered, but (Y/N) sensed something more. But none the less, he decided to leave it be for now. " You can even move back with Anna. You know the manor has more than enough room. " Bruce offered and (Y/N) hesitated.

" Well... I would have to move Anna's kindergarten... And all that stuff." (Y/N) started and Bruce cur him off yet again.

" Don't worry about that now. You and your daughter need to have a stable environment. So drop by the manor. You can meet your nephews too. "

" It wouldn't be a bad idea. "

And that's how (Y/N) and Anna went to the Wayne Manor, the little girl being excited in the backseat of the car. She let out a sound of pure surprise when she saw the manor in it's full glory. " This is where uncle Bruce lives?! " She yelled and (Y/N) chuckled as he parked the car inside the manor yard.

" Is it true I have cousins? " She asked as (Y/N) quickly left the car and then moved to unbuckle her. She quickly ran out and (Y/N) sighed.

" Not so fast young lady! " (Y/N) yelled after her and the girl stopped, smiling at her dad, taking his hand as they walked up to the door. (Y/N) rang the bell, waiting for Alfred to open up. Oh God, this is weird to be here yet again after these 5 years.

Alfred quickly opened up with a smile and gave (Y/N) a tight hug.

" Oh I missed you master (Y/N). " Alfred said and (Y/N) nodded.

" You talk funny. " Anna said and Alfred chuckled, leaning down to look at the little girl.

" That's right, I do. Now come on miss, lets meet your cousins. " He said as he led the little girl inside, who was giggling happily. (Y/N) took a deep breath to compose himself before entering the manor, the place where his life started and changed so many times. He walked inside, breath hitching at the sight of his nephews, both adopted three and one biological, who looked just liked Bruce at that age...

It's just eerie...

He was caught off guard by a sudden hug from the oldest son by the looks of it. (Y/N) huffed from the force, but patted the back of the oldest son.

" I'm Dick, nice to meet you. " Dick said once he pulled away, a big smile on his face as he was shaking his hand with a firm shake.

" (Y/N), nice to meet you too. " (Y/N) said quietly, quickly glancing at Anna who was talking to Bruce quietly. Bruce seemed gentle with her and that's more than enough to ease his heart.

" I'm Tim. " Tim introduced himself to his uncle and (Y/N) noted to himself how tired Time looked, but maybe it's due to the fact that he was a vigilante. But something else was off, but that's something for another time.

" Jason... How come Bruce never told us about you? " Jason asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders.

" We... Didn't end up on a good note... I guess guilt and anger. " (Y/N) says and Bruce listened from his spot with Anna, who was just talking away.

Jason hummed and moved to allow Damian to say hello to his blood uncle.

" Uncle. You look different than I imagined. " Damian said in his voice and (Y/N) swore it really was Bruce at age...

" Damian. You are a copy of your father. " (Y/N) noted and glanced at his daughter for a second, seeing how Bruce was holding Anna in his arms.

" I know, I've been told that. " Damian responded shortly. Just like Bruce. Jesus. It's eerie beyond belief.

" Anna, do you like books? " Bruce asked her and she nodded happily. Bruce turned to (Y/N) and his boys. " Can the boys take her to the library? " Bruce asked and (Y/N) knew that they had to talk about their relationship. What to do now and all that.

" Sure. " (Y/N) said and the boys, including Alfred, led the little girl to the library. She was so happy, just giggling, not even a sense of her father's turmoil.

" Can we go outside? I need a smoke. " (Y/N) said, taking his pack out already. Bruce simply opened the terrace door that lead to the garden, where they sat down.

(Y/N) lit up his cigarette and took a long drag, trying to ease his nerves. He let the smoke out and glanced at Bruce.

" This is weird... "

" I know. Look, you can always come back home. " Bruce said dryly and (Y/N) noticed the distance. Noticed the look.

" Look... We were stupid to fight like that... And you are not to blame... I am to blame too... " (Y/N) said as he took a long drag.

" No, it was me. All on me. " Bruce said, looking at the garden ahead, refusing to look at his brother from guilt.

" Don't say that... I think we need to repair our relationship. For your boys and for my daughter. And us too. I do miss my little annoying brother. "

Bruce didn't respond and just sighed.

" Don't blame yourself. " (Y/N) said as he blew the smoke yet again. " Do you want me to move back? Anna would like that. And it would make things easier for me too. " (Y/N) said quietly, finishing his cigarette in the ashtray.

" Don't be distant Bruce. "

Bruce sighed yet again. It was hard not to be distant in this situation. Especially when you think you are at fault for the fight.

" I would love to meet my niece more and try to be that fun uncle. I want to take some of your stress too. Some burdens off too. " Bruce said, still looking away.

He couldn't even look (Y/N) in the eyes.

(Y/N) just sighed. They really had a long way to go.

[doomedlovers]

call me daddy

char: toji fushiguro word count: 1.9 k tags: smut, mdni, m!reader, amab!reader, bot/sub!reader, dom!toji pwp, unprotected sex, moderate feminisation, toji wants to impregnate reader but that doesn't actually happen, anal fingering, penetration, nipple play (?), i think there's spanking in there don't quote me on that, pet names, slight alcohol use, not the safest of sex and probably inaccurate but eyyyy, dubcon if you squint.

toji fushiguro was a peculiar man. from the moment (y/n) met him, he couldn’t help but feel a weird, almost magnetic pull, towards the lazy man with that cocky smirk of his and those intoxicatingly beautiful green eyes. even when toji was at his lowest, drinking beer from a stray bottle on his dirty floor, (y/n) couldn’t help but feel not only sympathy, but immense attraction towards him. and thus, he’d help the older man off the floor, shove him in the shower, praying that toji’s towel around his hips would fall before he managed to close the door. but alas, a man could only hope.

(y/n) had been letting toji crash at his place for a while now, seeing as that was a much better option than spending entire nights over at the horse tracks bleachers, hiding from the officers patrolling. over time, he noticed the little habits toji had. how he’d bite on the side his scar was situated when he was thinking hard for once. or how he’d disappear for days and suddenly come back with a shit ton of money— money that toji slowly started using to pamper (y/n) with fancy dinners. well, right before he spent the rest on booze and horse racing. but hey, at least he cared, right?

for a while now, toji had expressed missing his son, but more so, he had expressed how much he wanted to take care of another baby— forgetting that the first time around he wasn’t exactly a model father. and yet, the older man kept expressing how much he had wanted a baby.

“i remember when my wife was pregnant,” he pondered in a drunken haze one night, looking at the empty bottle of booze between his legs. he had a bittersweet smile on his face, the moonlight cascading onto his dark hair. toji was aware that when his wife was alive, when he still had their son, he wasn’t a model husband. sometimes he wished he could try all over again. other times, he had no regrets over how he chose to live his life. why should he be restricted and tied down? and yet, he yearned for those moments his wife depended on him, how cute she were when she was pregnant with their child. how doting she was when she took care of little megumi. but now, he only had booze and horse racing to look forward to. and (y/n), he supposed.

the next morning, (y/n) woke up with a huge hug tugging on his underwear, ever so slightly. the wind of a deep breath rang next to his ears, making him shiver as his eyes fluttered open. “wha…” he muttered softly as he turned his head ever so slightly, his gaze meeting those mischievous green eyes.

“good morning, baby boy,” toji said in a gruff voice, the smirk evident in his tone. his hand slowly left the band of (y/n)’s underwear, delving inside his shirt and touching his skin. “never noticed ya smell so intoxicating…” he purred into (y/n)’s ear.

(y/n) could feel something poking his lower back, quickly awaking from his haze. looking at toji, the way he was holding him, the way his hands ghosted over his skin giving him goosebumps… it was exactly what he had been wishing for so damn long. perhaps he should stop the other male; this probably didn’t mean anything either. chances were, toji just got horny and he was the closest body he could have his way with. but god, even that mere thought of toji finding him attractive enough to bang made him grow a tent in his boxers.

with a lazy turn, (y/n) faced toji, his own eyes looking up at the other male. for a moment, he just stared at toji’s face. that tantalising smirk on his lips that made his intentions known, that goddamn scar beneath his lip, making him even more attractive. those green eyes, filled with mischief and playfulness, but by gods, was he drunk on all of him.

toji’s hand climbed beneath (y/n)’s shirt and slowly traced circles around his stomach. a sparkle flickered in his gaze, his body leaning closer to the other male. “you’d look so adorable with a fucking bump here…”

“pardon…?” (y/n) asked as he looked up at toji. just now he was able to smell the faintest traces of alcohol in toji’s breath, and in paired with his latest discussions… gods knew what toji wanted to do with him. and yet, despite his better instincts, (y/n) found himself getting into the idea… sure, was it biologically impossible? kinda yeah. that made it no less hot.

soon enough, toji’s hand reached higher, caressing the other male’s nipples, flicking the sensitive buds. propping himself up on his free elbow, toji leaned his head to press open-mouthed wet kisses on (y/n)’s neck. soft sighs escaped his lips as he flipped the other male on his back, effectively climbing on top of him. slowly, he took off (y/n)’s shirt and threw it on the ground far away, his mouth now latching onto the soft skin of his chest. one hand was propping him up, while the other was now playing with (y/n)’s boxers, his fingers playfully kneading his ass ever so slightly, before going back up to caress his waist.

soon enough, the older male had unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers somewhere on the bedroom’s floor. his hands worked meticulously on taking off (y/n)’s briefs, tossing them away. both their hard-ons were now visible, basking in the air of sex that filled the room. (y/n) squirmed as toji’s large hand pumped twice his cock, before he brought it close to his own. a dry laugh left toji’s lips as he rubbed their lengths together, a smirk tugging on his features.

(y/n) closed his eyes from the stimulation, wiggling under toji’s grasp. soon enough, he felt two large hands holding his hips upwards. he saw toji circle his cock around his room, smearing his precum on his twitching hole. he felt a slight change as toji held him up with one arm, as his other rummaged the drawers, before taking out a slender bottle. squirting the lube on his fingers, toji inserted first one, then two fingers inside of (y/n)’s ass, the pace quick and impatient.

toji seemed unfased by (y/n)’s squirmed over the cold sensation within him, or the constant stretch of his asshole. and while he loved the expressions (y/n) was making, he couldn’t help but make his pace quicker and quicker, impatient to start the real thing. after a few moments, he noticed (y/n) shudder, the male’s cock leaking precum. with a scoff, he stopped his motions completely, wiping his hands on his abs.

a whine escaped (y/n)’s lips.

“i’m not letting you cum until i fucking breed you,” toji said with a sneer, licking his bottom lip at the sight of the male beneath him. he was sure the other male protested, but he didn’t case as he grabbed the other man’s waist and pushed him closer to him. propping (y/n)’s legs over his shoulder, he circled his cock around his rim. “i’m gonna breed you so fucking good.”

before the man beneath him could even process those words, toji entered him fully. toji’s balls rested against the male’s ass, precum already leaking both their cocks. (y/n) was almost speechless at how full toji’s cock made him feel. he had been daydreaming about this scenario, ever since toji had started living with him. and yet, no imagination, no amount of times masturbating to the thought of the older man, could possibly prepare him not only for the sheer girth of his cock, but also the force with which he’d push it in.

toji briefly looked at (y/n)’s fucked out face of pleasure, before he started slamming his hips back and forth with an insane pace. it was as if he was driven by powers higher than both of them. as if there was some kind of biological need to cum right at that moment. for the first few thrusts it was painful, but it only took a few seconds for (y/n) to get used to the feeling and the immense pleasure it brought him. the pain, the pleasure, the way the older male slipped in and out of his gaping hole were enough to make him cum in matters of seconds. a guttural moan escaped his lips as he came all over his and toji’s abs.

toji stopped his thrusts for a moment, as he saw the cum covering his abs. adjusting (y/n)’s leg on his shoulder, before one of his hands reached to smear the cum all over (y/n)’s stomach. he drew a circle and then slightly pressing the other male’s stomach, as if trying to find the outline of his own cock. reaching the other guy’s abdomen, he smirked.

“that’s where i’m gonna pump a baby in you,” was all he said as he started thrusting again, holding (y/n) tightly against him so he wouldn’t be able to escape his deep thrusts. small grunts escaped his lips as he looked at the male beneath him, the face he made, the tears in his eyes. “you’re gonna make me a daddy,” he whispered almost softly, as he gripped on the headboard for better stability as he kept thrusting inside, even more harshly than before.

(y/n) could feel himself get close again, his moans getting more high pitched as he tried to let toji know. one hand was gripping on the sheets, while the other was grabbing toji’s arm that loomed above him. “i-i’m clo-ahhhh… i’m close-”

and when he expected toji to go even more feral than before, if that was even possible, he could feel toji’s thrusts get more shallow, less quick. “no, not yet, baby boy…” he said in a hushed tone, trying to catch his breath. “you haven’t been nearly as vocal as i want you to be…”

“you’ve got to be shitting-ahh!” mid-sentence, toji curled his hips, pushing his cock deeply inside (y/n) before pulling away completely again.

“that’s nice, but you can do better.”

toji started thrusting again at a brutal pace, and when (y/n) tried to muffle his screams, he’d stop again. this happened a few times, not only teasing and edging (y/n)— who was so damn close, and yet so fucking far away— but also ensuring the other’s throat wouldn’t work properly for at least a couple of days. and yet, the louder (y/n) got, the closer to the edge toji was, the more feral his thrusts were.

“that’s fucking it,” toji growled, his nails now digging into the headboard as his hips moved almost mechanically. “gonna fucking fill you up. knock you up. that’s what you’ve been wanting eh? you– shittt… you think i-i hadn’t noticed? huh?”

at this point, toji was muttering incoherent sentences. he kept going and going, pushing his hips in and out in and out and in— as if a tidal wave crushed onto him, he moved his hands from the headboard and put them again on (y/n)’s waist, pulling him towards his hips, as if he wanted no droplet of his cum to be wasted. he could feel the other male convulse under him as a grin spread on his lips before he pushed his hips a few more times, fucking his cum further inside (y/n)’s hole.

with a soft pop toji finally pulled out of (y/n)’s rim and took a look at the male. dirty, tired and completely fucked out would be the words he’d use to describe him. a proud smirk stretched across his lips as he gave a playfully spank on the guy’s thigh before putting them back on the bed. sitting on the edge of the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees as he looked back again at the mess of a man he had left.

“ready for round two?”

[wlntrsldler]

jamie tartt late night ramblings (jamie tarttt x reader)

based on this screenshot from tiktok:

it was roy who noticed it first. your name seemed to leave jamie’s lips often— too often, like he was just saying it just to say it. you would be brought back to every conversation, every hint and whisper of a recollection, your name rolled off jamie’s tongue constantly.

roy had an “over or under” bet with keeley the next day. he bet that your name would leave jamie’s lips at least 50 times; keeley who didn’t realize just how often jamie brought you up (she was just happy to see him happy, content) scoffed and said there was no way. she lost the bet. (jamie said your name 53 times that day)

sam noticed it after the pair. he sat next to jamie on the way to manchester and he forgot his headphones (rookie mistake) and found himself on the receiving end of jamie’s babbles about date night at his apartment. sam, who grew up watching the love of his wonderful parents, felt something familiar tugging in his chest. it was the same feeling that bloomed when he got older, when the sweet words and innocent kisses his parents shared in front of him were no longer repulsive to his teenage brain, but rather something fond, something soft.

he indulged jamie in the conversation and offered a table at ola’s for next thursday. jamie beamed at him (sam had never seen him smile like that, not even when they moved back to the premier league or finished second) and thanked him profusely because you had been talking about wanting to eat at ola’s again.

“there’s just no time,” you complained, offhandedly. “between my work and your training schedule and games, i feel like we don’t get to have a restaurant dinner anymore. i miss ola’s.”

jamie would change the way time worked if you asked him to.

jan mass was the next person to notice it. him being the blunt dutchman nonchalantly asked jamie why he talked about you so much. at first, jamie was taken aback by the question. does he talk about you that much? jan quickly followed up by saying he meant no offense by this (this, jamie knew. he’d known jan too long to take offense) and said he was genuinely curious.

what jamie wanted to say was, if anyone had grown up the way he did, with the father he had, with the constant pressure of living up to an impossible standard, with the struggle of having to decide to either be a great footballer or a great man (he will be the first to admit, he chose wrong the first time, but he learned from you that he should give himself some grace. nobody is perfect in their early twenties, after all) anyone would probably talk about you as much as he did.

to jamie, you made his life so much better. sprinkles of beauty here and there from your whispers of “good mornings” when you rolled over to kiss him when you woke up in his bed; or when you would pitch the tone of your voice up to coo at a puppy walking down the street; or when you would drop coins in the tip jars at cafes while you mindlessly chatted with the baristas.

everywhere you went, there were marks of you that lingered there; in the smile of a stranger you complimented, the giggles of a child when you lean down to fix the bow in their hair; the scent of your perfume that stayed when you hugged a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. those little things made the world that much better.

jamie felt he was being selfish keeping you to himself, absorbing your love so much that sometimes he felt guilty that the rest of the world was deprived of it; so in his own way, whenever he spoke your name into conversations, into interactions, into the ether, he believed he was doing the world a favor, giving them a glimpse of the beauty that you added to the world.

but he thought that this was too much to say to jan mass in the middle of the locker room. so jamie simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “i dunno. i didn’t even realize i do it.”

[reiderwriter]

could you write a fic with a fem reader where spencer’s going through withdrawal and he’s being like snappy and stuff when she’s just trying to help? idk if that makes sense?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry it took me so long ㅠㅠ I hope this is everything you were looking for!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid × GN! reader

Warnings: mentions of drug use, mentions of addiction in the family, and spoilers for Season 2 of Criminal Minds.

You can check out my masterlist here!

In comparison with the other members of the BAU, you had the most experience with recovery. So you knew that it wasn't easy. Spencer Reid didn't. 

The moment you'd noticed him stepping out on the team, spending more time isolated and with a shorter temper, you knew. Tobias Hankel had only tortured Spencer for a day, but he was still inside him even months later. 

The day you realised he was using, you moved yourself into his apartment. 

“Hi,” you said as he opened the doors, bleary-eyed from whatever hit he just dealt himself. “My apartment flooded, and I had nowhere else to go.” 

Spencer Reid would always help others before he helped himself. It took a few more hours to broach the discussion of the drugs, but when you did get him to give in, you could feel the weight flowing off his shoulders. 

“I can't get his face out of my mind. The drugs, they help. And I know they're not really helping, but it's like I'm not strong enough to care.” He'd broken down into tears, placed his supply on the tables in front of you  and picked open the wound that had never fully healed properly. 

Step one to recovery was accepting you needed help. Step two was harder. 

Slowly decreasing his intake until he was free of the drug. Watching him for any negative reactions in the field and at home, dealing with the underlying trauma. 

You had to talk to Hotch about it, of course. But he knew about your father, and to a certain extent, you knew about his. A single shared look was enough for you both to agree that Spencer needed everyone's support. 

So you dropped him off at his meetings. You picked him up afterwards. You watched him in the field for any mention of addiction and drug-related psychosis that could lead him down a dark path of what ifs. 

You held his hand. You kissed his head. You were there. 

Even when he tried to show you he didn't deserve it. 

“Spencer,” you'd started the conversation trying to get his attention, knowing from the far away look that he was missing the numbness that came with the high. 

“Spencer, you look tense. Are you okay?” He'd whipped his head around at the words, a scowl on his face. 

“You don't need to hover over me like I'm a child, Y/N.” 

“I want to know that you're okay.” You said back, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm yourself again. Sometimes, Spencer made every little question an attack, and you had to learn to dodge the blows.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I want to take care of you.” Your calm reply had him angrier though, as he snorted with a single reply. 

“Like you took care of your dad? That worked out so well, didn't it.” 

Ten years and any mention of the man who had raised you still had you freezing in shock. You almost didn't notice when your glass tumbled to the ground, to be smashed into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was almost as if the crash woke Spencer up from his stupor, his gaze growing regretful as he stood and approached you quickly. 

With a hand and a shake of a head, you stopped him, though.

“Let me clear the large pieces on my own. I don't want you to get hurt.” Kneeling, you did just that, picking out recognisable edges and sides and transporting them carefully into the trash. 

“I'm not going to sit here and let you do all the work, Y/N. I'm… I'm sorry.” His voice whispered those last few words as he kneeled next to you  sweeping the glass up, careful not to cut himself on it. 

You wiped the tears from your eyes as both of you worked busily, letting your argument hang in the air between you.

“I know you're sorry, Spencer,” you whispered as the two of you worked, still not brave enough to look him in the eyes. “My dad was, too. He never meant it, though.” 

“I mean it.” He stopped moving, and you finally looked up to his eyes, to the life there that sparked, that had been buried by Tobias Hankel. Motivation. 

With the glass cleared, he stood, reaching out a hand to you to help you up. You took it, letting him assist you. He didn't let go after, though. Not immediately. 

He stepped closer, and you relaxed into his chest, resting an ear over his heart. It was still beating, and that was what mattered. 

“I can't fix you, Spencer. I can't make this better. I can't do that for you, because you have to do it for yourself. That's what my dad never understood.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he could hear and knew he was listening. 

“I can't reverse what he did to you. But I promise, I will be here to remind you that you are a good man. To remind you of what you are like when you're you  how much I love you, how much we all love you.”

“I'll stand next to you and look into that mirror every morning and tell you what I see. A good man on the bad days, the same man on the good days. I don't want to fix you, Spencer. I want to love you, and I want you to accept that you're worth it.”

His head rested on top of yours, and you could feel his small wrecks of tears as he sniffled. Inhaling your scent, he could've spent the night wrapped in your arms like that.

“Thank you. For saying that. For being here. I know it's not easy.” 

“It's not. But you're worth it.” Clinging to him, you let the moments tick by, never releasing him from your warm embrace. 

[soaps-mohawk]

Important Things For This Blog

I wanted to make a post with some rules/important things to know for this blog. It will be linked in my pinned navigation post. I know some of you have been asking for this and I apologize for it taking this long to do this.

Probably the most important thing (which is sad that this is something I have to say) but

UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES DO YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO USE MY FICS FOR AI

If you see someone using my fics or claiming to have my permission please report them because I will NEVER give permission for my fics to be used for AI

Okay, now that that's out of the way, I wanted to put down some reminders/rules (not that I've had many issues to date) but just in case:

This is an 18+ blog with explicit content. I am trusting a lot of you to be honest and stay away if you are not 18. This is not a minor friendly space.

I am one person running this blog. It's just me, a real person behind all of this.

I am in Pacific Standard Time (PST)/Pacific Daylight Time (PDT) depending on the time of year, so any time I talk about days, I'm meaning that day for me if I forget to add the timezone.

I take a break from this blog on Thursdays (PST), though that can sometimes start as early as Wednesday afternoons and can extend into Friday mornings.

Again, I am a human being with my own struggles and some days are not good days. I try to avoid interacting too much those days, but sometimes I'm not smart enough to do that. So if I seem off or rude or snappy, I do apologize. I always feel guilty after I get back into my normal head space.

I invoke the right to delete any ask that I do not want to answer, or that makes me uncomfortable.

As point number 2 states, I am just one person, and I get a lot of asks some days, so if your ask/comment/reblog etc isn't responded to right away, it's either because I didn't get it/didn't see it, or because I have 30 others in my inbox that I haven't answered yet too.

I try and avoid posting asks/reblogs with spoilers right away for those that don't/can't read the chapter right away. I tend to hold off for a couple days so if I haven't responded to you, that's also probably why.

Responses that have spoilers and are posted the days I post spoilers are tagged with "crcb spoilers" so block that tag if you don't want to see them or have anything spoiled, though after those days I stop tagging things with that tag.

I use my queue a lot, especially on days where I don't plan to be on Tumblr much, or days I post spoilers. I try to remember to use the tag "queue 06" when I'm using the queue.

Regarding CRCB exclusively, I have taken a lot of time to make and organize several lore/FAQ masterlists. If you ask a question that has already been answered there (which to be fair I do miss adding some sometimes) I will direct you there to avoid repeating myself.

The navigation post pinned on my page is there for a reason. Please utilize it.

If you would like to be on my taglist, please follow soaps-mohawk-taglist and turn notifications on as I will post there every time I post a new chapter/fic

I do not tolerate any hate or disrespect on this blog, towards me or others. You will be blocked, anon or not.

Please be respectful of me, my rules, my boundaries, and the reminders above, and most importantly, remember there is just one living, breathing human being behind this blog.

Now for the part most of you have been asking for, the things that I'm not comfortable writing. If it's not on this list, or if you are unsure, please ask if it's something I'm comfortable writing. I won't get upset if you ask for clarification.

Pedophilia (including lolicon & shotacon)

Age Play

Beastiality

Detailed Domestic Abuse

Detailed Child Abuse

Emetophilia

Olfactophilia

Scat

Cheating

Rape*

Child Death

Hurt/No Comfort

Pregnancy (Anything in the realm of pregnancy)**

RacePlay

Formicophilia

Pecattiphilia

Some specific violent situations (including ones with kids)

Embarrassment

*It depends on the scenario/my own state of mind at the time. It's not a hard no, but it really just depends.

**I know I've answered some pregnancy (and child death) things in the past but it's just not something I'm comfortable with going forward.

Honestly it's just best to ask if you're unsure, about anything listed above. I'm just asking for everyone to be respectful of me and my rules, as well as everyone else, so we can keep things as they have been.

Have a Gaz just because

[epilogue-and-prologue]

Affections

Fandom: The Hobbit Ship/Pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader Trope: Unrequited love that’s requited after all Note: No idea. I probably made heavy mistakes in the mythology. Don't hesitate to point them out if need be. Warnings: Miscommunication, father-son relationship, rejection Word count: 6 282 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstareditd @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

“Legolas!”

Seeing your friend after so many years made you so happy, your eyes were watering even before you could feel his arm embracing you.

“My dear friend. I am so glad you could finally come home.”

Decades earlier, the young prince and you had learned and grown together under the watchful eye of the Mirkwood. Small ones were a rarity, but two at the same time almost never happened. Once an adult, it became clear you needed to leave the palace’s grounds and see the world for yourself. The only kin you had left was your aunt Ede, and she encouraged you to go, despite being torn upon your departure.

Now, finally, you were coming back to your place of birth, filled with new memories and new experiences. During the war, you were following the refugees, learning medicine and healing amongst them as you had for the past decade. Fortunately, this knowledge became of vital importance after the conflict and here you were, talking animatedly with the Crowned Prince, sharing adventures and stories.

“I am sure your father must not have taken kindly to that friendship.”

Legolas laughed, his long hair moving with the winds around.

“No, he did not. Gimli is a close friend of mine and I would not allow him to be treated with the disrespect my father is so easily using. — Still. Of all the people present in the Company, the only one you find to be a friend is the son of Gloin? The very last member of Thorin Oakenshield’s entourage? — I did not choose, you know. And…”

Before he could finish his sentence, you stopped your steps. The place had grown so much since you last were there. The tallest trees reached peaks you could not see anymore, cutting into the sky slices of clouds and sunshine. The hall around you felt heavier. More grounded in stone than in wood. Ravages of the Great War had reached even here, it seemed. From the stairs in front of you, a tall she-elf, with her dark auburn hair and her proud stature, was staring right. Your feet guided you to her in a hurry. Her embrace felt like a warm bath, smelling of lavender and a quiet temperance you needed in that moment. Ede was one of a kind. She was the one who had taught you the basics to healing and the plants, as well as the stars. Your mother had been a valiant soldier of the King’s army. She perished on the front of the battle of the Five Armies. Ede became a support and an ally in the pain of her loss. It made you two grow closer, especially when her brother - your father - left for the Shores after his wife died. He did not see the future in as much brightness as he used to and did not want to become a hindrance for you. It was with the certainty of meeting him again that you let him go.

“Aunt Ede, I have missed you so much. It is a genuine pleasure to see you. — As it is for me, child.”

She pushed a strand of hair back, watching you intently with those profound dark eyes of hers. Once Legolas reached you, he saluted the Royal Healer before leaving the both of you, a soft smile on his face. You spent the rest of the day walking around and rediscovering the grounds with your aunt. They had planted bigger gardens next to the Healers Quarters. A gardener had been appointed specifically for them, allowing time and space for the now withering Ede. She was growing tired more easily and, despite her appearances, was becoming more depressed by the day. Her work was never done in this place, being the sole reference for every other healer in the woods and sometimes outside of the country and into others. Everyday that passed made her long for her home in Rivendell. Her husband had gone back the year before and the separation was taking another toll on her, time only making it worse. At the first signs of dusk, she brought you to your room, next to her own. It contained a simple bed and a desk as well as two tall windows, looking out on the garden below. The bag you carried when you arrived finally found a space to rest too next to the neat sheets.

“Child, I bid you goodnight. We shall talk more in the morning. -Yes, my aunt. I wish you pleasant dreams and a restful sleep.”

She kissed your forehead, smiled and closed the door behind her. Soon you crumbled into the heavenly made bed, but could not find sleep. After all, the real reason of why you left had been kept secret from everyone. Including yourself. You were becoming more agitated with every minute passing before meeting the King. You had not left on particularly good terms with him, a show of restraint on your part, inclining you to keep quiet and move on. Nevertheless, the memory kept replaying in your mind, as you felt yourself drift into a soundless sleep.

In autumn, the leaves fell, and Legolas was in the trees. Well, one tree. The tallest at the time, a great oak with leaves reaching into the sky as if trying to touch it. The Prince loved to climbed its branches, storm or high wind was of no matter to him, wanting to admire the sky more than anything. Also, it was the only place his father would not think of searching him in. Lately he had been adamant in having his son with him at all times, protected and locked in, close to him where he could not be lost. Or killed. That oak was where you found him.

“My Prince, I am afraid your kingly father will be upset with both of us if you do not come down this instant.”

Silence. Thranduil had asked you personally to go in search of his son. Out of the two of you, you were in appearances the more mature one. Even now young adults, you could not help yourselves and hid from each of your parents whenever you could, spending most of your times observing the wood’s life. The fleeting murmurs of the trees settled, leaving a melody of singing birds behind. Soon, he came down, looking sheepish.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to cause my father’s anger towards you. — No need to apologise. I understand why you would want to hide. Yet, you can not do so forever Legolas.”

He nodded, following you back inside. His father had grown tensed and tired after his wife’s death. Her warmth was the heart of the forest and once she was gone, every winter became colder and colder. The King only grew more weary of the outsiders, leaving no choice but to close the borders to most of them. You knew him in happier times, grew with his son and should have grown attached to the Prince. Yet, in your heart, Thranduil had the only space you could allow to be filled. It had pained you to acknowledge it, more so when Legolas’ mother passed. A voice inside wanted you to reach out and to pull the pain away from him. From them both, but you could not. As well as Thranduil’s borders closed, his mind and soul did too. For the longest time, he retreated so far inside that no one could reach in. Not even his son. Your arm looped around Legolas’ shoulders, trying to comfort him however you could.

“Do not fret. He was scared to death you broke your neck. Once he sees you intact maybe he’ll calm down”

It did seem to make him chuckle at least, as he leaned into you. You felt ashamed feeling this way towards a brother’s kin. It was a torment you would not wish on anyone not even your greatest enemy. It became a soft agony and then a feeling deeply buried. Sometimes, you hoped you would find yourself looking at Legolas the same way you looked at Thranduil. It never happened and you grieved the proper relationship that would never be. It had been talked about, making a match between the two of you. The Prince could have been inclined. Your own affections lead you to say no, to the disarray of your parents and Legolas’ poor heart. He never resented you for it but you did. You resented yourself so much it blinded the young spirit you had into biding yourself to this place, when nothing new could be learned, nothing new could be seen. No new love would grow. Ede had mentioned leaving before. The idea was taking roots but Thranduil’s actions were the final push into the adventure of your life.

Upon arriving in the King’s room, you caught onto three things. The first, he was still worried sick, apparently repeatedly pacing the room with no signs of stopping soon. The second was that once he saw his son, he embraced him, where you had seen him lash out in anger at others. The third, you were sure that when his eyes landed on you, he would burn you right where you stood. He took his time, checking if his son was alright if he was injured, who’s idea was it to go out and hide like that. Once his nerves settled, he dismissed Legolas, closely watched over by two guards. As the Prince left the room, you shared a soft smile, already knowing what was bound to happen. Once he was gone, the air left the room and the reprieve you had ended right there.

“How dare you?”

Thranduil’s voice was carrying across the room. He was standing as far away as possible from you, as if trying to avoid catching a disease you had.

If only that was the reason, he would sleep better nights. Not watching the stars peak and go down every morning, growing mad with every time he saw you. He knew it was, in truth, for another set of reasons entirely. His body was betraying him. His heart ached in the most delicious ways, retreating from its hiding place. He would have thought it dead if it weren’t for you. You with your sharp mind and loud laughter. You who had a spirit all of your own. You who were the oldest friend and confident his son had. How could he feel that way for you, he never wanted to know. It would have meant accepting he nourished feelings for you. He watched you grow and become a mighty warrior and a spirited young elf. Once well in adulthood though, that was only then that he noticed you. Before that you were a shadow compared to his wife’s memory. He saw and perceived all too well your longing looks and tight smile for him only to see. It touched his otherwise dead heart. The pain of knowing that it could never be and the blossoming feelings he carried for you were growing inside of him intertwined. Now, your eyes haunted him at night, hot and feverish, lingering in his mind. He longed to be touched by you, when he knew he should not have. The remorse was ever present. What would she think of all of this? She would want him happy, cared for and content. He wanted it too. He would not yield, not crumble under your stare. He had to protect his people from disappointment in their ruler. He could not afford jeopardising his rule so. Even for your beautiful mind and gorgeous soul.

“How dare you compel my son into acting so? You and your ideas! Of course you were the one to give him such ideas about freedom and… — Your Majesty, with all due respect, I gave him what he asked of me, nothing else.”

He was livid. What he asked of you? A jealousy he had forgotten the name of, formed in his stomach, giving his wrath a fuel to keep on burning. What did he ask of you? What did you ask of him?

“How could you? You are full of yourself. Arrogant. Reckless. Do you not know the influence you have over him? How dangerous that could be?”

He could see you, bowing your head, biting your tongue. He drove the knife deeper still, wanting you to react, to do something. Anything was better than you not reacting at all. Especially to him. The cruel intentions in him a reflection of his frustrated state at seeing you and not touching you.

“Answer me!”

The scream rang through your body. Teeth clenched, you had been biting your tongue this entire time, not wanting to make this situation worse. Although, he was on the right path for it to get worse.

“Why would I? You seem to have all the answers already! About your son, about me!” You kept on going, even as he stepped closer and closer to you, domineering and hovering over you. “He needs to experience life! If you can not give him that, at least give this to his mother!” This touched a nerve, his face darkening with fury. Where he knew you were right, he wanted to make you quiet. Those truths either he was not ready to hear. “She would certainly not want her only son to go to the Shores having never touched life with his own hands. Never fighting for what he believes in, never seeing the sun high in the sky or never feeling the touch of a lover, because of you. Sire, you cannot keep him in a gilded cage like this. Either you let him go or he will escape.”

He was invading your private space now. You could not look up. You would not look up.

“How would you know how to care for a child who is not your own? — I know him better than you think.”

Better than you lingered in the air, unsaid, deeply felt. His long fingers gripped your jaw pulling your eyes along them, then his deep burgundy robe before meeting his darkened pupils. He narrowed his eyes, the very tip of his fingers were burning with the yearning of touching you. He could not give in. He would not give in.

“Do you now?”

His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, in what was supposed to be a show of power. Both of you knew it was not, still thinking the other to not know about it. His teeth bit lightly into your earlobe before you could stop him. Frozen in place, you did nothing when his lips drew goosebumps down your throat. In a swift movement, he sucked a deep bruise into your skin. You cried out as he held your face in place, merciless in his grip. It was not a cry of displeasure and that surprised him. As your hand gripped the one holding your face, he searched your expression looking for a momentary lapse in judgement. Maybe something to stop him. Something to tell him this was wrong. He found nothing of the sort. He slid his fingers from your jaw to your cheeks, finding comfort into the plump and supple skin of your face, before all but tearing himself apart by kissing you. You kissed him in return, feverish and wanting. Too soon, he stopped. Disgusted with himself, he turned around, hurting like never before. His weakness was showing, all too visible to his own eyes.

“Go. Now. And never come back. — Sire…”

Your voice was but a whisper, the fluttering of your heart where his skin had met yours turning your whole body into a beating drum.

“Leave! Leave and never show your face again!”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You did not let them and left the room, closing the door as hard as you could behind you. Once in your room, everything went blank. Almost as if on drugs, mechanically, you gathered your things, warned your aunt of your departure. She did not question it. She knew of your yearning to leave and did not stop you either. Only accompanied you to the main road, wishing you farewell and a heartfelt goodbye. Legolas received a delayed goodbye, by letter. He was angry with you, but understood. You never told him about what happened and it said a lot about his forgiving nature that he did not hold that hurt against you today. She figured Thranduil might have something to do with it when the next day he asked about you. He seemed hurt beyond measure when she told him you were gone, almost surely never to return.

The first rays of the sun sneaked through the glass windows, shades and hues of red and yellows nesting into the corners of the room. After a change of clothes and a frugal breakfast, you accompanied Ede to the gardens along with her pupils, witnessing the classes she gave to elves from all backgrounds and all horizons. Midday approached and she took you aside after leaving her students.

“Child, we need to talk. — Yes, aunt Ede. What do we need to talk about?”

Her next words startled you as much as they turned your world upside down.

“I will be direct, my child. I need you to replace me, here, at the palace. I need you to become the next Royal Healer.”

*

Ede and you had carried that conversation long into the night. She was adamant that it was you who was supposed to carry on in her place. On the other hand you were less than convinced. Especially considering that she always described the task as a burden - more so in the last years. You would not negotiate with her and complained, exposed, revealed what you feared and felt unable to do. She would hear none of it. Her sole purpose here was to give her place to you, of that she was certain. Deep within her a longing of her home had taken root and she had wanted to leave for a long time. If only for her sake, you had no other choice but to do what she asked. For your own, you would have to face Thranduil when that day would come. Maybe, it was for the best. You could not stay in this place of ignorance and avoidance. A quick walk through the garden and you found yourself, face to face with Legolas, all smiles and a hint of mischief in his eyes you were worried about.

“Good morning to you. -And good morning to you, my friend.”

His smile did not falter as he proposed to accompany you through the palace, talking animatedly as usual, until finally you reached the healers quarters.

“I do have a question though. — Yes, what is it?”

As he opened his mouth to say something, he closed it again, his eyes drawn to something - or rather someone - in the room behind you. The door had been left ajar. Distinctively you could see Thranduil’s back and when he stepped aside, your aunt Ede too. Her brows were furrowing and her lips were pinched in a thin line. That could not be any good. The King on the other hand, was towering over her, rolling his eyes and pinching his nose every time she spoke as you would do with a child. That, that was intolerable. Legolas tried to stop you, his hand slipping from your arm only to be left bewildered and strangely, amused, when you stepped inside, slamming the door open.

“Your Majesty. Aunt Ede.”

You bowed your head as he observed you from head to toe. Since that night, it was the first time he was seeing you again. As you, him. A beating sound rang in your ears. His sharp eyes looked down upon you, considering your face, your lips. He stopped and turned towards Ede again.

“Your Majesty, this is… — We shall talk about it at another time. ”

She bowed and did not dare question his statement. He stepped out of the room without another word, only mildly surprised at finding his son at the door. He inherited his need to meddle in other’s affairs from his mother. It both amused him and annoyed him to no end.

* “Ede, what was that about? — Oh, nothing. Have you eaten yet? I was hoping we could eat together and talk some more about your new position?”

There was no negotiating her. Soon, she led you towards a secluded spot under a willow tree you used to hide in when you were a mere child. It’s blooming branches looked smaller now, even when surrounding both of you in its fresh shadows.

“Aunt, please tell me what this talk was about. With the King.”

Ede sighed, plugging some grapes from her bag. She stalled, settling down cheeses and bread at a luxuriously slow pace.

“Aunt… — Yes, I know. Listen, it is a matter between the King and I and… — Was it about me? — Sort of.”

You snorted loudly, startling a few birds in the tree.

“What do you mean? — It was about my replacement. He disagrees with my choice.”

That should not have stung as much as it did.

“And I told him that I would not be changing my mind anytime soon. And that you would be taking my place in three weeks time as per what was planned. — Wait… Three weeks? From now? It’s too soon, Ede.”

She shushed you with a finger against your lips, as she did when you were younger.

“No discussion, no negotiation.”

She proceeded to tell you all about the Royal Healer’s position. You were to tend to the Royal Family, anytime day or night, big or small wounds. Fondly, she recalled a time when Legolas was still small, and had fallen off of a tree, breaking his wrist. He had been restless for the long process of the cast and even more when he had to not use his arm for weeks after that. Being light of foot was not something you were born with and he had mastered it with numerous injuries and various broken bones. You recalled the infinite patience his father had to show. The prince was not as quiet and calm as he was now. She kept on with an extended list of places you were expected to go and help, as well as the palace. Indeed, she had taken it upon herself to replace the old healers in all the neighbouring villages. Most of them had been replaced, yet there was still work to do and new persons to train. At the first lights descending in the sky, she excused herself, exhausted that she was. She kissed your temple and walked away.

Your room felt smaller once you reached its bed. The walls seemed to be getting closer with each moment and soon, you could not stand it any longer. The night had just settled, the first stars showing above. Without much thinking, your feet wandered around the place, finding bushes and crannies, the deep river you knew. Several times, you passed by the willow you had eaten under earlier that day. Somehow, it drove you to its shelter, the rays of the moon shining through the leaves, giving the place an eerie and melancholic air.

Carefully you immersed yourself in this small reprieve of the world.

What you did not know was that you were not alone, sneaking around at night, unable to sleep.

* Once done with the argument, Thranduil had left the infirmary in a hurry, not wanting to dwell in a room where you were. Inadequacy was not something he was fond of feeling. Legolas followed him back to his chambers. He could sense his son’s amusement from behind him. When he turned around, stepping into his bedroom, the very same son had the audacity to laugh wholeheartedly.

“You do remember you owe me allegiance, even as my son and heir.”

The elf struggled to gain back his composure and nod. Finally he had come to his senses.

“Yes, Father. Although I choose to find our relationship into its more domestic issues than its governmental ones.”

Or not.

“Legolas, I swear on your mother’s grave if you do not explain why you are mocking me I will send you to an early retirement deep in the forest with nothing but bread and water to survive, as well as the animals to keep you company.”

That made him stop. Thranduil’s threats were always outlandish. They were also never made in vain or carelessly. Legolas stepped closer to his father, leaning in as in confidence. The King’s eyebrow lifted in a show of not being impressed. From where he was sat, he could see the sparkle in his son’s eyes. The one that meant no good.

“Your affections are showing, father. — My…”

If he had not been angry to begin with, he might have been now. He thought back to that night and could not wash away the culpability creeping in. After you had left, he had spent sleepless nights, without an end to his thoughts about what he could have done worse. Never better. In fact, he had come to the conclusion that where you were concerned, things was to be left alone. A sort of status quo, left undisturbed. Nevertheless, he stayed quiet. The silence worried Legolas.

“Father, I never meant any harm. — I know.”

He couldn’t face Legolas anymore, a veil covering his vision. The King felt the weight of the past years weighing him down, sitting in that chair behind this table, his future in the eyes of his only child. How much he had wished there had been other children with her. Legolas was as perfect now as he was when he was born but he was alone. He released a heavy sigh.

“Sit.”

Legolas obeyed, fearing something worse than a stern talking to.

“Nothing is ever meant to happen between…” The name on his tongue travelled down his throat to his heart. He chocked on it. “It is not meant to be, my son. Of my own fault. No harm can come to her. Not more than the one I have already done.”

Questions began plaguing the prince’s mind, almost wondering aloud what his father could have done to deserve your absence and his longing. In a way, those questions were answered shortly after he thought them up.

“I was the one who chased her away. — You…”

Thranduil’s hand stopped him. It barely lifted in the air, before resting again.

“In a very unkind manner. The behaviour I had was… Unworthy.”

No other words were necessary for he was one to choose them precisely. His close circle knew that. That knowledge was what made his son get up and look at him, with so much disappointment in his eyes he could have made his father drown in it if he so much as wished it. Legolas did not have any will in himself to do so. Instead, he channelled this frustration and shame into his words, chosen carefully as he had been taught to, many times before.

“Did you even try to talk with her? — No. — Why?”

His tone had taken a harsh turn, startling Thranduil in his immobility. No good excuse came to mind. He had been afraid and incapable of voicing his apologises. With you gone, gone was the possibility of redemption. Now that you were here again, he could try. Legolas’ mother was still in his mind, chastising him for his actions. He had come to accept that he would never forget her. That she would remain his conscience for the years to come, the years until his disappearance from this Earth. He had known her for so long, she would always be there. Telling him when he was doing wrong too. Even if it was with the voice of their only child, now grown, looking at him with something akin to violence in his eyes.

“She is out there, thinking she has done something wrong, when you could have freed her from that burden long ago. That, father, is not an unworthy behaviour. That is the behaviour of a coward. — How dare you speak to me in such a way? I am still your King… — Not as long as you behave like this, you’re not.”

He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His words resonated against the walls and the mind of the one left behind. A deep frown settled on his forehead, erasing all traces of previous fury. A weary hand pinched his nose, narrowing his eyes at his own anger. In a careless gesture, Thranduil pushed everything off of the table before him. Papers, ink, quills… everything went flying across the room. The only thing left were his hands gripping the edges of the table, ready to throw it too. Soon, he found himself crying silent tears, trying desperately to stop them from falling. His hands were shaking, a whole body tremor going through him, as sobs escaped him. This had to stop. A knock at the door interrupted him in his misery. Quickly he composed himself and followed the council servant outside, attending absentmindedly the meeting he was supposed to preside over. Legolas’ absence thrust another surge of sadness, pure and raw, through him. His absence only making him think about yours. In this scenario, he could lose you both. He could have none of it.

Once the first rays of sunshine started disappearing behind the clouds and down the horizon line, his feet brought him to his son’s chambers. He had to at least try to make this right.

* Under the willow tree, you laid, head resting against the trunk, eyes up in the sky. Sleep would still elude you, in the most peaceful ways this time. The clouds were moving with the winds, hiding and showing the numerous constellations up above. A rustling of leaves brought you back to solid ground quickly. Someone had found your hiding place, of all the places in the palace.

“Legolas? What are you doing here?”

The shadow did not answer, only advanced and stepped in the moonlight. It was indeed Legolas, but his eyes were different. A solemn toll had taken hold upon them and it was strange, if not completely out-worldly to watch him be this serious.

“I fear, the same as you. I could not sleep. — How did you find me?”

He did not answer right away, throwing a glance behind him before looking back at you.

“I followed you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. His steps had gotten more silent with the years, apparently. From your room to this place, you had not heard him once, not even in the gravel or the grass.

“Listen, I am here…” He hesitated a moment. “I did not meant to follow you. It was the only way. The most opportune one. There are things you need to talk about. I thought that if I was the first to show, you would feel less incline in running. — The first to show?” Fear ran through you. “What have you done Legolas? — I talked with my father.” Something sank within you. “About you.”

Your voice died in your throat. “I never meant to overstep my position, as your friend. I was worried about what he could have done to warrant such guilty actions from him. — What actions? Wait. Did he tell you…?”

Thranduil’s voice interrupted you both. His tall stature loomed over, albeit hunching over to pass through the leaves and come to you.

“Legolas, would you leave us for a moment, please.”

The gentleness in his tone surprised you. It seemed it was a normal occurrence for the Prince who reached and squeezed your arm reassuringly before leaving with a bow of his head.

“I believe we have much to talk about.”

Neither of you said another word, before he stepped forward and sat down next to you. It felt awkward to see your King in such an informal setting. You could see the discomfort it brought him to be this close to you. You were about to get up and go, when his hand pinned yours to the space between the two of you. Stunned, you looked at him straight on. He avoided your gaze at all costs, not taking the risk to say hurtful things again, out of spite. Out of fear.

“My rank demands an exemplary behaviour and it seems I have failed in that task.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you kept staring at his profile, making it hard for him to keep going. Through greeted teeth he added more words you never thought you would hear from him.

“My actions towards you were nothing short of ungraceful and puerile. You have my deepest apologies.”

Finally, he looked at you, tall and head held high. That was as far as he would go. Legolas might have had a hand in that forsaken apology. It was a needed humiliation, if he was to keep you in his court. With him. Near him.

“Sire, you have my sincerest thanks for this. There was no need for you to do so and you demonstrated a great kindness by this gesture.”

His face relaxed slightly, his jaw unclenching. His hand was still on yours. The feeling erupting from that meeting left you dizzy and energised at the same time.

“Was that all, Sire?”

Thranduil could see the hope on your face. Brows pulled down, frowning around your beautiful haunting eyes, lips pinched in a thin line. What took him over he would never know, for he did not recognise himself behaving like this.

“No. The kingdom is deeply grateful to have you back here with us. This land deserves excellency and perfection. That is why I can be demanding of my people. As well as of you.”

His hand gripped yours. You did not stop him from doing so, letting him finish his thoughts. He seemed to be needing it as much as you. A prickling in your eyes made you withdraw your hand for a moment to wipe it out. Your fingertips erased the tears down your cheeks, while your tongue felt as a leaded weight in your mouth.

“I understand.”

Only then did you put your hand over his, squeezing lightly. A sharp hope ran through him, a knife of helplessness felt deep in his bones. He did not want to recognise the feelings growing inside of him. He knew what they were anyhow.

“Thank you.”

Words ran away in the night. Your eyes found the sky again, the stars and the moon above lighting your way in the dark. He was staring. You could feel it. You kept on looking away, biting your lips and swallowing your tears down your throat. If this was what you could get, then you would take it. At least he was sorry. Your feelings, you could deal with on your own. Thranduil’s stare was boring into you with little care for his heartbeat accelerating. Here he was, sitting in the grass, in the middle of the night, watching someone he thought he had lost. Something to smile about, finally, he thought. He was committing to memory the shape of your nose. The curve of your chin. The apple of your cheeks, the soft trace of your eyebrows. The stubbornness and intelligence hiding in your eyes. As he did back when, his hand slipped down your cheek, bringing you to meet his eyes. He settled in your throat, slender fingers finding their place under your jaw. Half hooded eyes and a sharp inhale from your mouth were all it took for him to meet your lips. Slowly, both his hands came to cradle your face.

Then, you were the one to pull away. He frowned, trying to meet your eyes. You wouldn’t. Cradling his hand against your cheek, you pushed it away. Deep within, the restlessness of your heart had not gone quiet with his words. Only louder, the beating in your chest trashing around, begging to be freed.

“My lord, I… I understand. I really do understand what is at stake, here.”

You met his eyes, full of something you never thought you’d see again. Worry.

“Nonetheless, I want more.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to stop you. You stopped him first, the palm of your hand quietly overtaking his senses, when meeting with his face.

“This. What is happening here, I will not have it hidden away. I cannot. Not after this long. I…” You licked your lips, anxious at his reaction. “I belong to you. In whatever shape or form. But, if you give me this…” The skin of your thumb caressed down, meeting his lips. He had stopped moving. “There will be no going back. All out of the shadows. And, if you break my heart a second time, I will not be coming back.”

For someone with a patient talent for words, the King was left speechless. No proper sentence could carry his meaning. Only gestures, actions and demonstrations of his affection and commitment could. So he did. For the first time with you, he became hesitant, his mouth shaping itself around your throat, your open neck bathed in the moonlight. He clung onto your waist as one would a lifeline, your hands threading through his hair when he kissed you. His hunger and thirst for you was unmatched. Unparalleled. He had forgotten what that felt like.

That night, as many others afterwards, you found yourselves bound together, under the willow.

[echo-lover]

Why are you watching this, it's for kids. Focus on life, find yourself a partner, have your own family. You are an adult. Grow up.

You don't understand it. This is not just a series...

This series gives me a chance to feel like a kid again. I find comfort, safety and care in the arms of characters who mean the world to me. I experience each of their moments of sadness, each of their smallest joys, as if they were my own. This is my home, my safe space. I love them with all my heart. Thank you Star-Wars for my beautiful family.

I love Wrecker because he always managed to put a smile back on my face, even when I was having the worst day ever. His cheerful personality makes it impossible not to like him. Sometimes he is just a child, trapped in a large man's body. Behind all this muscles and enormous strength that can easily hurt you, there is a soft heart made of gold. He can be gentle, soft, even quiet if he has to. He would do absolutely everything for his family. He is also way more intelligent than he might think. The way he takes care of Omega melts my heart every time. Kids love him and he loves kids.

I love Tech because he can quickly adapt to situations. His voice is so special... I could listen to him for hours and never get tired of his facts about everything he saw and heard on his missions. He showed me that being smart is not something I should be ashamed of. His voice is calming, gives me comfort... I love his little jokes and moments where he was just a little savage in conversations. Even though he processes moments and thoughts differently, he is still able to share his own feelings with Omega. She helped him open up and show the part of himself that he kept closed from the world, even from himself. He loved his family so much that he sacrificed himself for their safety, paying the biggest price. He is worth every tear I shed for him (and there were so many).

I love Echo because I see a part of myself in him. He has been with me from the very beginning of my journey with Clones, and is one of the most important characters for me. I relate to him for many personal reasons. Even though he has experienced so much evil in his life, he is still able to be gentle, caring and show love to those who were closest to him. I especially love his bond with Omega, they both understand each other through their traumas, and way more. Omega quickly became the most important to Echo, but he couldn't give up on fighting, even for her. He felt that he has to somehow compensate for all the lost years when he was a prisoner on SkakoMinor. His honor, loyalty and courage inspire me every day. And his tenderness and softness touch my soul deeply. I could talk about him for hours and never get bored. I wish I'd be able to give him the biggest and warmest hug, and tell him how important he is to me.

I love Crosshair because he's the type of character I could easily hate, but I don't. In fact Cross is very close to my heart, I feel sorry for him and I want to help him get back to his old self. He is so much more than what the Empire has done to him. This sniper who never misses, who doesn't have to use his muscles to hurt - words are enough for him - silent, yet sharp. Precise, accurate, always on point. Confident, knowing his skills. Painfully honest, but needing to prove his worth to others at the same time. I know there is this soft side of him, hidden, but it is there for sure. The side that loves his brothers and little sister more than his own life. He need some time to understand that he is worth all the love in the Galaxy and I hope that Omega will help him to realize, that his brothers never really left him. They would take him back, if he just wanted...

I love Hunter because he makes me feel safe. I can't put it into words, but he's a character that reminds me of home... a loved one that I lost some time ago. He is so much like my dad at some point and his bond with Omega is so special for me. I know he's not perfect, he makes mistakes just like everyone else, but he always wants to do the right thing. He is a leader, not the one that only gives orders, but he is more like the head of the family who protect them - a father. He always puts his family first and is willing to do anything for them. For any of them, including Crosshair. He often doesn't give direct orders, just suggestions. His squad is not just soldiers, but they are his brothers, his closest family. His priorities changed when Omega appeared in his life - a child in need of a family, who trusted him and gave him love that he had never received before. From a soldier, he became a father, who would give everything for his daughter's safety and joy. His relationship with Omega is the most important to me. I loved him from the first moment and I could talk about him for hours, just like about Echo. I will always defend him. No matter what.

I love Omega because she took the best parts of each of her brothers. She is fearless, brave, strong and ready to defend her family until the very end. She's just a sweet little girl who can't have a normal childhood. She's different, just like her brothers, and she's so proud of it. She is not afraid to show her individuality. But even though she is strong and brave, she is still just a child. She needs love, protection... family... and Bad Batch gave it to her... a home, a safe place, loving brothers... Words cannot describe how important she is to me. Now she has changed so much, she is no longer this little Omega from first season... I think she becomes so much like Hunter.

[doe-eyed-fool]

The Other Woman

Lucifer x Reader

Warning(s): Suggestive themes, cheating, angst, very little comfort, bittersweet ending

It was a mistake. That's what he told himself. It was a mistake he'd never make again. It was stupid of him, and he never felt more guilty. He loved her, and that woman...

What happened between them, meant nothing. That night, it all happened so fast. It was in the heat of the moment, and he regretted first thing in the morning.

He couldn't bring himself to tell his love of what he's done. How he's betrayed her. And surely, if he were to tell her, she would leave him. And he would not have that.

So, that woman, he made her swear to keep that night a secret. She agreed, and for years the two never spoke of it.

Even when he married the love of his life, even when they eventually had a child together, he kept quiet. There were times, he'd forget it all together. But it would always come back, to remind him of what he's done eventually.

In the late hours of the night, when everything was quiet. That night would haunt him for all eternity.

He wished he could take it back. It meant nothing.

But if it meant nothing...why did he long to see her once more?

They were friends for the longest time. Perhaps that was why he missed her like he does...

And if it truly meant nothing to him, it did mean something to her. That woman. She could never forget that night, even if she wanted to. She held that memory with her for so many years.

Wishing then, that he would have chose her instead.

He tried to forget, but the way his name would come from her in heavy breaths and soft sighs...

The way she looked that night, the way her skin felt against his own...

It was still so fresh in his mind, making it that much harder to forget. Sometimes he'd wonder, if a part of him even wanted to forget. That somewhere deep down, he didn't regret that night.

But he would quickly dismiss the thought. Of course he regretted it. He didn't love her, like he did his wife. That woman meant nothing, nothing to him at all...

So, when the day came where she would once again be apart of his life, how would he feel about her then?

The reunion should have been a happy one, they hadn't seen each other for many years after all. And yet, when they met face to face, it couldn't have been more...empty.

They each had something, so many things to say. But neither of them could bring themself to speak their minds.

When the silence became too much, that woman finally spoke...

"I've missed you, Lucifer."

Lucifer felt something within him spark to life at those words.

"I missed you too, Y/n."

The same with her. Though, she could tell he wasn't entirely truthful. Yes, he did miss her. But he did not miss the feeling he'd give her, that she gave him then...

"I heard about Lilith...I'm so sorry. Did she find out?"

"No..." Lucifer muttered. "She just...left."

Y/n wanted nothing more than to embrace him then. How could Lilith leave him like that? Yes, he made a mistake, but as far as anyone knew, Lilith was unaware. Lucifer was a wonderful man. Lilith would be so lucky to have someone like him...

All these years, for nothing. Had Y/n known, it'd end like this between them. She would have tried harder to keep Lucifer for herself.

"Is that why you came back?" There was a slight bitterness in Lucifer's voice. "Because her and I are no longer together? You think this is your chance?"

Y/n would be a liar, if she said no. She didn't like seeing Lucifer like this. Clearly he loved Lilith with all of his heart. And as much as it pained Y/n to know that, she was not happy that she left him.

"I'm not looking to replace her, Y/n. I hope you understand that."

"Yes. I understand. But..."

But, what? What could she have said in this moment? 'But I wanted to see if I had even the tiniest chance to call you mine after thousands of years?'

No. She couldn't. As much as she wanted to. She couldn't.

"I just...really missed you. I couldn't go another year without seeing you, even if just for a little while. And I know you might not feel the same, but I wanted to see you way back then. I had hoped there would be a way for us to still be friends...But I understand that what we did...there's no taking it back. And I am sorry that I was the reason you had to lie for so long. But I'm not sorry for wanting you."

"Wanting me?" Lucifer began, a weak laugh left him. "And what now? You still want me now? Even when I didn't want you then? Even after all this time? Even knowing I still love Lilith?"

"I do." Y/n said simply. "You don't have to want me. But please...don't leave me again...I missed you more than anything Lucifer."

It still hurt, to know he still doesn't want her. That he still loves his ex wife. But she couldn't help the way she felt.

Lucifer sighed, moving his hand to his head. Y/n didn't miss the ring he still wore.

"I've lived for so long feeling guilty about what I've done. Not only that, but I was haunted by memories of that night. I can remember all of it, and I've never been more conflicted in my life. I missed you, I really did...more than I should have."

He continued.

"I felt guilty for lying to my wife...my daughter...yes, because I was disloyal. But more than that...I felt guilty for wanting to see you again, guilty for never truly regretting my choice." His gaze fell onto her. "There was nothing keeping me from not thinking right. I knew what was happening, and so did you...And I hate myself for it. Because...I didn't stop it, I didn't want to stop it from happening..."

Tears began to fill his eyes. "Y/n...I feel awful."

Y/n couldn't stand it, she brought Lucifer into a warm embrace. Lucifer didn't hesitate to return the embrace, his shoulders shook as he sniveled.

Y/n loved Lucifer, which is why it killed her to see him like this. And she was the cause of it all.

If she caused this turmoil, then she would make up for it. She would stay by Lucifer's side, trying to make up for all the pain she's caused.

So long as Y/n was there, she would remind him of how deep her love was for him.

She would never leave him. Even if Lucifer struggled to let himself give into those feelings he kept buried deep down. He might someday move on.

But he would never truly move on.

The ring he still wore was proof enough.

[calaisreno]

Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles. 

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy. 

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life. 

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember. 

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years. 

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying. 

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry. 

John is smiling at him. 

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat. 

I’m not the man you thought I was. 

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks. 

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot:  what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was. 

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did. 

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone. 

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs. 

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B. 

“Hm.” 

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.” 

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts. 

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

[wileys-russo]

Hellooo, I absolutely love your Barca x reader fics with Pollito, I love how you write her and all the dynamics she has with all the team, it makes me so happy to see when you post a new fic for her.

I have a few headcannons about her which I have been thinking about:

I don't know if you have spoken about her siblings at all but I feel like she's the type of girl to have two older brothers and like a older sister, so it goes her oldest sister, then her brothers and then Pollito, cause of course she is the youngest, she just gives off those vibes. All of Pollito's siblings are a good couple years older than her with her sister being ten years older. Pollito has the same dynamic with her brothers as she does with Mapi, as children all they did was get each other in trouble so thats why she felt so comfortable with Mapi.

Vicky is always third wheeling Pollito and her girlfriend, whenever they go anywhere together Vicky is always close behind. They all joke that Vicky is their child.

Pollito has never had a very serious injury before, one that would put her out for months or something she needed to have surgery on. And all of the team calls her invincible cause anytime she goes down on the pitch, she's right back up again. But one time is training they were setting up plays for corner passes, Pollito went for the ball, accidentally tripped over someones leg and with Ale marking her from behind, the hand Ale has on her back sent her falling forward into one of the goal posts. Ale freaks out when Pollito doesn't move but makes sure to keep with the head injury protocols of not moving her, incase of spine injuries. Medics arrive and five minutes later Pollito is up and giggling, with a massive golf sized ball bump on her head and is put on heavy concussion watch. Ale feels absolutely terrible, but Pollito has an absolute field day with it, as she now uses it as blackmail for anytime Ale tries to get mad at her.

Sometimes Olga and Ale go off on trips so before Pollito even gets the chance to ask if she can stay with her girlfriend, she is jetted off to Mapi and Ingrids place. Pollito has her own temporary room there, and she can never stay mad with the opportunities to play prank about prank of Mapi, messing with the older women in her own home.

She has like five family dogs, that have been around since she was a toddler. Her family are big dog owners and Pollito is exactly the same. Mapi finds it absolutely hilarious that when Pollito first met bagheera she wasn't sure how to act around cats. She was so scared at first but of course when she finally warms up to him, she changes into the biggest cat person as well as dog person.

love your writing so much, I hope these headcannons do justice to Pollito and what you think she is like and how she lives. xx

these are so perfect!!

pollito absolutely grows up in a large family and misses that a lot when she first moves to the academy and then to the senior team. which is why she gravitates toward older friends and ‘role models’ to replace what she’s missing. mapi is exactly like her brothers and fills that void for her, and the same thing in that mapi always wanted a younger sister but instead she was the younger sister, so they bonded and grew close quite fast. and Alexia and Frido both remind pollito a lot of her older sister!

Pollito eats it up that everyone calls Vicky her child given that Vicky is older, but it doesn’t stop her from still inviting herself to hang out with Pollito and her girlfriend whenever she’s bored, and Vicky and pollitos girlfriend are quite close so as much as Pollito whines and complains she really doesn’t mind that much that her best friend and girlfriend get along well!

Alexia even asks pollitos parents if she’s broken a bone or anything before and somehow she hasn’t despite running around like a madwoman and playing sports as soon as she could walk. But a lot of the older girls are cautious that Pollito knows she’s not actually invincible so that she doesn’t do anything stupid because Pollito is very easily convinced.

whenever Pollito wants something from alexia she winces and holds her head and says something like “no no i’m fine, i think it’s just the head trauma from when you pushed me into a goalpost” and suddenly Ale will give her whatever she wants out of guilt, even though it’s been months and her head is completely fine

everytime Olga and Ale go away pollito is given two options: frido’s house or ingrid’s house, and no amount of begging or guilt tripping will change alexia’s mind because anywhere else and pollito isn’t supervised to alexia’s standard

Pollito and Bagheera are frenemies, at first pollito was terrified and steered clear and refused to even be within 5 feet of her. Mapi would always bring bagheera in and drop her on Pollitos lap and pollito just freezes and refuses to even breathe until ingrid takes pity and shoos bagheera away. but then one night when pollito is upset about something and misses her dogs sleeping in the bed with her (no amount of begging will convince alexia to let even one of the big dogs come live with pollito) bagheera comes in and pollito very cautiously pets her and suddenly they’re best friends much to Mapi’s annoyance

[ssadumba55]

More Jack Skellington and Ghost Child! Reader

Request: Another jack Skellington father figure headcanons please

A/N: Continuing the canon that was established here

One of your little found family's favourite things to do together was read a book at night. It was the only thing that could guarantee everyday to pull Jack from his planning from next Halloween.

The bedtime routine had become your favourite, even though you didn't really need sleep. It was a mere formality seeing as you were literally dead.

Sally would help you pick out a book from the many shelves Jack had, a lot of them were gruesome but that's what comes from living in Halloweentown.

You always made yourself corporeal for this, snuggling up beside Sally on the bed and waiting for Jack to join. And he always did too, he was never late.

Sitting between the two adult ghouls, you flipped the pages while they read the words. Reading had never been a skill you'd picked up on before, but you liked listening to them read, feeling the warmth of them on either side of you. Which was funny seeing as none of you were actually alive so there should be no warmth.

And even though you really didn't need sleep, the routine always ended with you falling asleep, being tucked in by Jack and Sally and affectionate tucking in taking place

That was the best part of having a corporeal body, you could feel the warmth of the blanket and the gentle strokes of comfort from your adoptive parents

"Can I hold your hand?" You asked nervously

You and Jack had agreed to go on a special mission for Sally, she needed things for making her special brews and for other hobbies she took part in. She had said it was a good way to get Jack out of the house.

Jack looked down at you, your nervous form flickered between the usual transparent to the corporeal form. You had never liked the hustle and bustle of the main part of Halloweentown.

He held his hand out for you to grasp, and you did. It always struck him when he held your hand how small it was compared to his. Your small child hands looked even smaller in his bony fingers.

"You sure you're going to be alright?" He gently prodded. He had promised if you didn't feel up to it, the two of you could always try again another day.

"Yeah, I'll be fine dad."

If he had a heart, it would've surely skipped a beat at those words. Being called dad was not something he ever thought would make him feel so proud. It was a greater accomplishment even than his Halloweens.

"I know you will."

"Fetch Zero!" You tossed one of Jack's bones down the graveyard for the ghost dog to catch.

He barked excitedly as he floated as fast as he could to catch it, bringing it back in record speed. You tossed it again, this time harder and further.

The dog scurried off to retrieve the bone and you waited for him to return. It was strange to be here after staying at Jack's home for so long. You didn't miss being all alone out here, but sometimes you did miss the simplicity of it.

You were lifted into the air before you could dwell on the thoughts further, Jack had snuck up behind you and he set you on his shoulders. There was nothing better than being "on top of the world".

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

"Zero wanted to play fetch." As you said this, the dog in question raced back bone in mouth and Jack took it from him, connecting it to himself once more.

"It's time to come inside, your bedtime routine starts soon."

You kicked your legs in contentment as he walked back up the path to Halloweentown. Zero zoomed around at Jack's feet, following the two of you home.

You glanced back at the graveyard, one might think it was longingly but in reality, you didn't miss it as much as you thought.

[peachdues]

tw: grief; some personal writing based on a rec by my therapist as I draw closer to the three year anniversary of my mom dying.

My hands are not my own; they are inherited, like the rest of me, but unlike my hair (the shade of my grandmother’s) or the hue of my eyes (a heterochromatic blend of my father’s and his father’s), my hands are wholly my mother’s.

It is a strange comfort to look down and see a part of a missing loved one. I can stand in front of a mirror for hours scrutinizing my own face and find no trace of my mother, but when I look at my hands, I am unable to see anything but her.

I was a precocious child, unable to sit still even for a moment. My restlessness persisted even at night. I was often unable to find tranquility even in sleep; prone to vivid and wild dreams that frightened me and usually startled me awake. My mother’s bedside was a frequent place of solace in the small hours after midnight. After the third or fourth time of me darting into my parents’ room on tiptoes and speaking in hushed whispers of monsters lurking in my closet, she would let me crawl in beside her until I calmed down enough to return to my own bed.

Yet, like most unruly children, rarely did her acquiescence actually soothe me. I likely owe my mother a long overdue apology for all the ways I tossed and turned and kicked while trying to settle down. But for all the sleep deprivation I inflicted, my mother’s solution was not to kick me out before I’d mellowed; instead, she gave me her hand.

She would hold it out for me to take and I, a cat transfixed by a feathery toy tangling before it, would grab it and trace the shape of her fingers. I bent them, pushed them together until she made the Vulcan salute, and turned her hand over in mine again and again. On and on I would play with her hand until I finally grew sleepy — an event she seemed to have a sixth sense for, given the struggle it took to get me there — and she would send me on my way back to my room, comforted.

Even beyond those restless nights, my mom would offer me her hand to hold in times of stress or even relaxation. If I sat beside her on the couch, my head on her shoulder, she instinctively held out her hand and without fail, I would take it. I once asked her if she minded it when I was a teenager; motherhood is marked by all the ways children demand and take, and I worried she quietly resented my entitlement to her space. I could see my question surprised her — and then she was quick to kiss the top of my head and assure me she found it just as comforting as I did. In fact, she wagered, the day I stopped reaching for her hand might just break her heart.

But I never stopped. I continued studying my mother’s hands in those quiet moments watching some silly reality show. I was fascinated by them; the rounded shape of the nail on her index finger contrasted with the u-curve of the others, but that asymmetry was the most comforting thing in the world.

They were there when I stumbled off my late night flight home from college; when I could stop being the invincible twenty year old staring down a world of limitless opportunity and regress back into her baby girl, who just wanted to cuddle up to her on the couch and have her pat my head as she always did.

And they were there even when she was not; still stroking over my hair thanks to my own manipulations, her nails painted a faint copper that I’d brought along with me to the ICU, back when we still had hope she’d be leaving sometime soon. I kept her hand smoothing over my head until the quiet beeping of her heart monitor slowed and her chest rose one final time. I only let them go when the nurses told me to bring my car around to pick up my dad so we could drive home, without her.

The last time I paid attention to her hands was when I arrived at the funeral home to help fix her makeup before her service. I did not recognize them, mottled and bruised as they were; they were too stiff, her fingers too oddly curled over her lifeless form. Of all the bitter realizations I had in the wake of my mother’s death, perhaps the most acerbic one of all was that I would never again hold my mother’s hand.

Even when I said my final goodbye to her on the day of her funeral, I did not touch her hands. I didn’t even look at them.

One of the many lessons I’ve been taught in navigating life after death is the transiency of human memory. There are details about my mother I swore I could never forget that I now find difficult to recall, even a measly three years later. I have a hard time remembering the sound of her voice, or the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. I find that I can’t decide whether her eyes were more of a chocolate-y brown or something closer to black.

But I have not yet forgotten her hands. How can I, when I see them every day?

The nails on my index fingers are round while the rest are u-shaped. The skin of my knuckles folds the same way hers did, and while I prefer acrylics compared to her choice of gel manicure, I know that when the false nails come off, my mother’s will be there.

Often, far too often for my own comfort, I catch myself wondering what they will look like ten, fifteen, even twenty years from now. I wonder whether the time will come when I look down and think, for the smallest fragment of a second, that I am seeing her again. But a more sobering part of me knows there’s a chance my hands will one day curl and swell with age in a way hers never did. And I wonder, if and when that day comes, whether I’ll still recognize my mother’s hands, or whether that memory too, will fade.