#oh my god it’s been 730 days.

[airabuhan]

happy 2 years of kohaai to me~

[villainofmyownstory]

Day Zero chapter 2

masterlist | taglist | AO3

Previous | Next

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Ghost doesn't know what to do. He looks for Riley everywhere, with no results. He slowly loses his mind and does something he hasn't done for a long time… You wonder who and where Riley has been with all these years. How he found you? Why is he wearing that weird vest? And above all, where is the person who put it on him?

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, alcohol, weapon

author's note: I didn't expect so many comments, likes… everything… Thank you for this, it motivates me a lot. Unfortunately, what everyone probably expects doesn't happen in this chapter… or maybe it does?^^ I plan to add new chapter once a week. However, I have more free time this week, so I will add the next part in a few days.

Chapter 2: The one with(out) Riley

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Day 730

You & Riley

It had to be Riley.

Of all the things you dreamed of all those lonely nights. About family, friends. Everything you've been longing for. You missed him the most. For your beloved dog. I t wasn't like the other family members were important to you. You just knew and pretty quickly came to terms with the thought that you wouldn't see them again.

It was difficult, hard. However, the realization of the unpleasant truth and mourning in such strange and new lonely conditions passed. The loss of the dog was unexpected and sudden. And knowing from day one that many animals somehow survived. Somewhere deep in your heart you felt that Riley was just there. And eventually, one way or another, you will be together again. But you thought it would happen after you died.

Not now. And not like that.

The dog was so happy to see you that he jumped at you with his front paws, trying to put them on your shoulders, but he was so excited and exhausted that he hit you with full force, pushing you. You hit the ground with a loud thud, crushed by the mass of the dog who was now licking every inch of your body, clothed or not. It didn't matter to him at all.

"Oh my god Riley...stop it, oh fuck" as you try to get out of the weight you don't know if you're in pain or if you're happy or shocked.

You're going through a million emotions. Many thoughts are running through your head. You have so many questions. So much confusion.

"Riley, man, calm down... I know, I know..."

You're trying to say something and at the same time get rid of the dog that has gained a lot of weight after these two years. Not only was he handsome, but he looked like a decent dog. Adult, mature. After many attempts, you finally manage to sit down, the dog seems to let go for a moment, panting loudly and sticking out his tongue. You look at each other as if each of you wanted to express and tell you everything that happened and what you felt during these months of separation.

Riley still had that incredible wisdom in his eyes, something that made him seem so human. This was one of the features that made him easy to recognize. The second thing was the fact that, unfortunately, before he came to you, when he was a puppy he lost part of his left ear. That's why as soon as you saw an animal running towards you, in a split second you knew it was him.

It was something so incredible, even impossible.

And you remember your mother's words the day the puppy showed up at the door of your family home 

"Fucking miracle"

Scratching Riley's ear, you shook your head in amusement and whispered, barely audible

"Yes Mommy, you were right… as always. He's a miracle."

Now you were just curious about the person who had kept Riley alive for so long and kept him in such great shape.

Slowly standing up, brushing off the dust from your clothes and wiping your cheeks, which were wet with dog saliva. You looked around the area, not seeing another living creature.

“Riley, who did you come with? Where is this person?”

You asked the companion next to you, grabbing your backpack and slowly walking in the direction the dog came from. However, the wounds on your feet from the long walk were so painful that you had to give up after walking a few steps.

“So, I guess we'll have to wait here for this mysterious Ghost?”

Walking towards a small building that was probably an energy building. Hoping that there will be a working power supply with electricity inside. which the tower still works and sends a signal, from time to time you looked with a smile at the dog which was glued to your leg and was following along with you.

For the first time in a long time, you smiled.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Day 731

You & Riley

Nothing, silence, emptiness.

As if the arrival of the dog didn't change much. And it changed practically everything. The world took on new colors for you, you felt that it was a signal, a sign. Whatever. Something refreshing that restored meaning to your life after such hopeless and miserable, long and lonely months.

And somewhere deep inside you believed that someone would eventually show up. And after many hours of sitting in a dingy little building next to the tower, you lose hope again. Maybe Riley's arrival was everything you deserved in this new life.

When trying to get more comfortable on a concrete floor, you need to be careful with your dog. With every movement you make, even the smallest one, Riley raises his head and looks at you. He gets closer if you move your body away from his just the slightest. As if he was afraid that you would disappear from his sight again.

The night and half of the day passed. No one came at noon.

Like the mysterious Ghost, sleep never came.

“Darling, I'm so tired... everything hurts,” you say quietly, stroking the animal's fur with your hand.

 “Riley, I think we should wait a little longer, maybe one more day?” You look towards your backpack. Unfortunately, all the supplies you had packed were slowly running out. Your water supply would last for another day. Maybe if you saved more for the next two days. You had food for two or three days. However, you didn't expect before that you would have to count all the food and water for two.

It wasn't a problem. At all.

“Oh boy… you don't know how glad I am that you're here with me,” you muttered, placing your hand on the dog's body, finally falling asleep.

And the last thought was that in two years you haven't said as many words as today.

And it wasn't a problem. At all.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Day 730

Ghost

Ghost felt like he was slowly losing his mind. That he's about to go crazy. Since all this happened, this whole cataclysm, the apocalypse. The end of the world... Everyone could call it whatever they wanted. That damn Day Zero. The man was able to organize himself in all this chaos, pursue his goals, plan and live. From day one, everything made sense, meaning, some direction for him.

Planning, patterns, predictability. Sticking to the schedule, drill.

His years in the army prepared him for this. It was in his blood.

So now that there had been no sign of Riley for over 24 hours, the only living being for whom he got up and went to sleep every day, it all made no sense. His life had no meaning.

Yesterday when he left the fucking house with a pillow in his hand that he took for the dog. In terror, he ran around the area shouting the dog's name, hoping that it would appear soon. Ghost was under the illusion that Riley would run around  the corner with some prey in his mouth. Wagging his tail happily.

Nothing like that happened.

Ghost, in his madness, destroyed several objects he encountered on his way. Screaming loudly and cursing. This couldn't be true. Something bad must have happened. The dog had been clinging to Ghost continuously for 2 years. Even when he taught him to hunt or search in new unknown locations, the dog was able to return to the man.

Why wasn't he there now?

Ghost finally went home after many hours of frantic searching. All the time he was wondering what else he should do to make his friend come back to him.

When he finally reached a safe place and parked the car, he looked around the area, hoping Riley had found his way home, and stuck his tongue out, wagging his tail. That the dog would be sitting outside the house, waiting for Ghost.

Unfortunately, to the man's horror, there was no sign of any presence.

Ghost felt under his skin that if he was left alone, he would lose ground. And his entire planned, arranged life will collapse day by day like a house of cards.

The house seemed unusually quiet and empty. Even though every space, every corner, cabinet, shelf and floor was filled with objects that the man had collected for two years. Supplies, clothes, items needed for survival. He was proud of how easily and quickly he adapted to the new challenge. How he was able to find himself alone, without other people.

This was another difficult and important mission for him.

I'm sitting in a chair at a large oak desk. He converted the room into an office where he kept maps, important documents and books. Ghost leaned back in the leather chair and closed his eyes.

He was afraid of this moment. Yes, he expected that one day he would be alone again. That he would have to say goodbye to his best companion. However, a German Shepherd should live up to 13 years. Maybe Riley would have lived another year or two in good health. Ghost was ready for this terrible situation. But that was to happen in the future. Someday, when they're both ready. In many years. In at least 9-10 years. That was the plan. That was the assumption.

And now Ghost was staring at the blank white ceiling, feeling like his world had collapsed once again.

The first was the death of his family.

The second time was when his teammate died.

Third… no, no, no. This couldn't happen again.

"No!" the man growled loudly, getting up from his chair and hurrying towards the room that was now the large pantry.

He must have had something strong to drink. Bloody hell. He had to drink that fucking brandy.

It's been a long 730 days since Ghost last dipped his lips in alcohol. Two years of sobriety.

And a drunk lieutenant meant something very dangerous. 

Pure madness. 

If someone showed up at Ghost's door now. The person should step back and leave without hesitation. And never come back. For your own safety. Your pathetic life.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Day 732

Walking towards the city in the morning, with your dog by your side, you felt as if the world smiled at you and let you go back to your happy years. When you were younger and Riley was just a few months old puppy. This is exactly what your mornings looked like. You were walking along quiet streets somewhere on the outskirts of your city, enjoying the new, sunny day. You usually went to your favorite cafe and bakery, then went to the park with your dog. Lazy, ordinary mornings.

Unfortunately, now despite the idyllic landscape, peace and quiet, greening grasses and trees. Nothing else here was like back then.

Silence, deserted, ruined buildings.

Even though the world changed completely that day, the city looked remarkably good and clean, the main roads were passable, cars and other things on the road had been moved so that one lane was empty. You decided to go to the center and plan further walking there.

You entered several buildings and checked several vehicles.

Weird. All the more important and necessary things you could find in these places are gone. Medicines, canned goods. Batteries, clothes, shoes. The fuel from the car was drained, batteries, light bulbs and other things from the engine were removed.

The city looked like someone had definitely lived there after Day Zero. For a long time.

However, after a few hours of walking around empty streets, you decided to enter the last building where you expected to find at least a few drops of water. Even fermented, rotten food. Whatever.

“Riley, come on, one more place and we're going back to the tower, maybe Ghost will show up tomorrow?”

you lightly pulled the dog's leash. The dog was still sitting on its hind legs, looking in the opposite direction from which you had come.

You didn't have time to react.

Focused on the dog, you leaned down to give him the command again to finally move.

You didn't have time to do anything else.

Shot.

And the whistle of the bullet.

That's all you heard...

You didn't have time to do anything else.

taglist: @leviathanleva @chocolate-noodles

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

What about I could do this all day but with Arthur curry, where he is being flirty and complimenting the reader all day, even she and others are like he can't keep going, and he does and maybe it ends with him taking reader out on a date and then she starts flirting with him all day

.⋆｡Keep Going｡⋆.

Arthur Curry x plus size reader

Sick of Arthur’s relentless flirting, you strike back.

Warnings: flirting, idiots in love, fluff, pick up lines are from google

WC: 730

Minors DNI

3000 Follower Celebration

He was desperate, charming, delusional and all around annoying but there was no way you could hate him, he was just too endearing. Arthur had been following you around the Justice League tower all day like a lost puppy, showering you with any compliment he could think of. 

“I’d bet you’d look great dressed in kelp.” You came to a screeching halt and whipped around, brow raised at the huge man who was walking behind you. “Y’a know when we get married, you’ll have to wear something seafood-like and I think kelp would compliment your skin perfectly.” Your face, which already seemed permanently heated from all the attention, got even hotter.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, hiding your face behind the file you were holding.

“Actually, I think coral might look better on you, maybe a starfish or two.”

“Arthur!” You hissed, hyper aware of the fact that you were in a building full of superheroes who did not appreciate fraternisation in their League.

But Arthur just smirked as he leaned against the wall only a few inches from you. “C’mon, just let me take you out already.” He practically begged, a stark contrast from his casual stance. 

As hard as you might try, you couldn’t resist those big amber eyes looking down at you like you were his whole world. Sighing, you gave him a nod. “Fine, one date! Just one!” Immediately his back straightened and he wrapped you in a tight hug, making you yelp.

“You better go put some socks on princess cause I’m about to knock them off!” And with that, he bounded away, chattering to himself about what kind of date he would take you on.

“Are you sure about picking that one? I know lots of better men and women that would do anything for a chance with you.” Diana practically materialised by your side, gazing disapprovingly at her teammate. 

You chuckled. “Well, he is kind of cute.”

——————

It wasn’t just one date, it was five. Barely 10 minutes into your first date (he brought you to the fucking aquarium) you were lost forever.

The flirting never stopped either, in fact, it somehow got worse. Every second sentence that left his perfectly kissable mouth was either a compliment or some lewd joke that was so bad it even made Batman blush. So you were expecting Diana to come crawling to you, begging it to stop for the sake of everyone else.

You started that morning, as soon as Arthur stepped from the zeta tube. You wolf-whistled and gave him a slow once-over. “Damn baby, if you were a Transformer you'd be Optimus Fine.” He froze comically, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped open in shock. He pulled himself together quickly and wrapped your wide hip in a bruising grip, smashing his lips to yours.

As Arthur scoured the fridge in the League kitchen several hours later, you walked into his peripheral vision and smirked as your own gaze fell onto his pert backside. “Do you drink a lot of Sprite? Because you look so-da-licious!” His head whipped around with a sickening click.

“What did you just say?” You shrugged.

“You heard me, sexy.” He groaned as his eyelids fluttered. You winked at him and turned to leave, abandoning Arthur with his little ‘problem’.

The conference room was dead silent as you all looked over your individual assignments with the occasional shuffling of papers or the sound of someone clearing their throat. Your new boyfriend sat beside you, one large hand planted firmly on your plump thigh, his fingers gently rubbing circles into the soft skin. 

Just as you finished off your reading a deafening sound came from the man beside you as he violently sneezed into his elbow. Immediately, everyone looked his way. “I would've said "God bless you" after that sneeze, but it looks like he already has.” Now all eyes were on you as you smirked evilly. They all groaned collectively at the bad line. 

Arthur’s hand tightened on your leg in warning. You squeezed his hand in return. “Stop.” He muttered under his breath as the others returned to their work, Diana smiling suspiciously.

“Stop what?” You asked dumbly.

“You will run out of pick-up lines eventually and when you do, I’ll be there.”  “Oh love, I could do this all day.” You retorted with a kiss to his bearded cheek.

DC Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @km-ffluv

DC

@snedhdh @kobaltdragon

Arthur Curry 

@pretty-npeach @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @itsbqueenthings @mandyzsick101 @getoutofthere @tinyinfluencerharmony @xoxokiaraaxoxo @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mewlingoizys

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Wanderer: Homesick

This one's a side-story for something I submitted for a magazine... Enjoy! (Also warning for angy teen girl swearing)

I sat on the train, cheek pressed to the icy glass. Trees sped by me, a swathe of verdant greens and deep browns. The leather of the couch gave way under my knees, and I dug into it with my fingers.

I'd been scratching dates into that seat, one for each day. The entire couch was covered in etches now, cross hatching as far as the eye could see. Having counted them, I could safely say they totalled up to 730 marks. That would be two years.

Two years since I'd seen my parents. Two years since I'd seen my home. Two bloody fucking stupid years! Even thinking about it, I wanted to scream.

The goddamn train's incessant noise grated on my ears. If I had to see its gaudy golden facade again, I would gouge my eyes out. Every single destination along the damn train's mercurial routes was a godforsaken shithole! 

Oh my gods, I hated it. I hated it in ways no human could truly express. I'd tried, of course. I wrote emo poetry, sang off-tune songs, and when all failed, screamed incoherently into the endless void. To truly understand the depths to which my sanity had fallen, one must first endure this abomination:

Roses are blue

Violets are red

Fuck this shit

I want it dead.

It's likely the closest I've come to conveying my frustrations. It's also likely the closest I've come to convince my fellow wanderers that I've gone mad.

Did I mention the wanderers? They're the worst. The absolute worst. Psychos, the lot of them. We had Mr ‘Maya-be-a-lady’, Ms Magic-is-real-and-birds-are-a-conspiracy, Dr I-drown-babies-for-fun, and worst of all, Mx Doppelganger. Creepy ass bitch.

If I could meet whatever bitch put me in here, I'd tell them one thing: Fuck you. Fuck everything. Fuck the stupid train, the stupid people on it, and the stupid fucking places I kept getting dumped into.

I hate it all so much. I just want to go home. You know what I've missed in the past two years? My friends will have graduated. My cousin's probably turning two soon. I'm supposed to be in the University of Kristiania by now! 

Everything I've ever worked for has been washed away. What was the point of learning trigonometry when the only triangles I'm ever going to see belong to interdimensional horrors trying to eat me?! I was set to win last year's Informatic Olympiad. I was so close.

But that's not the worst. (Oh gods, how bad is my life, that losing my future isn't the worst?) The worst is homesickness. I want to hear Qi's whining over her crappy grades. I wanna listen to Pam bitch about her latest boyfriend. I want to come home and eat my mom's porridge and study maths while metal blasts in my headphones. 

I want the good and the bad. I don't care if I get yelled at by Mr Lim for failing physics again. I'd probably hug old Aunt Beatrice if she showed up and called me fat. Hell, I would give anything, anything to have my glasses broken by a stray football again, even if the glass goes into my eye.

I miss home. I… I hope I can go home soon. (Oh gods, I'm pathetic.)

Fun fact: She did not get to go home soon.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[laurenairay]

Congrats Lauren!! Can I get funny kiss with Josty please thank you I love you 💚

Funny Kiss – Tyson Jost

Words: 730

I really hope you like this silly little blurb Demi! I love you too 💚

~

“So this is the famous Domino?”

At the mention of his name, your 6 month old Beagle puppy yapped, darting forward to crash into Tyson’s legs, making you groan.

“I would say he’s usually more polite than this, but he really isn’t,” you mused.

“Nah he’s just got a lot of love to give, don’t you boy?” Tyson grinned.

Domino barked happily as Tyson crouched down to give him some fuss. You almost felt like sighing in relief, if you were being honest. You’d been dating Tyson for only a month, but he’d been desperate to meet your dog, cooing over the photos you’d shown him on previous dates, so you’d suggested a date at the dog park to finally introduce the two of them. You hadn’t been nervous exactly, not with how sweet and easygoing Tyson was, but if Domino didn’t like him then it was an absolute red flag for you.

With the way that Domino had flopped onto his back for belly rubs already though, it didn’t look like you had to worry.

“Shall we get going?” you said, smiling down at the scene in front of you.

“Yeah of course! You have his B-A-L-L with you, right?”

Bless his heart.

“I do,” you confirmed, trying not to laugh at how cute he was, “You can throw it later for him.”

Tyson looked almost as excited as Domino.

The three of you ended up spending nearly three hours at the dog park, walking and talking with interludes to throw the ball for Domino to fetch. It might have been one of the most low-key dates you’d ever been on, but honestly, it was also one of the best.

And Domino was clearly as besotted by Tyson as you were, which was a huge plus.

But eventually, you made it back to your apartment, and you left Domino in the kitchen drinking a large fresh bowl of water before rejoining Tyson on the sofa in the living room.

“Do you take him to the park every day?” Tyson asked, smiling.

“I try to, yeah. This apartment definitely has enough room for him to walk around in, and the shared backyard access is fine for bathroom breaks, but he needs to run around as much as he can so I do my best.”

“Any time you need a dog walker, hit me up. For real, he’s the best,” Tyson grinned.

“You are crazy, but definitely the sweetest,” you laughed, shaking your head.

Tyson just shrugged, still smiling as he raised his hand to cup your face, leaning in to kiss you. But just as Tyson’s lips pressed against yours, a heavy weight crashed into you, breaking the two of you apart.

“Domino, no! Down!”

But your excitable dog didn’t listen, yapping away as he darted between the two of you, licking at your faces, Tyson just cackling with laughter.

“I am so sorry,” you groaned, making an oofing noise as Domino kicked your stomach.

“He just wants all the love huh?” Tyson grinned, ruffling your dog’s ears, earning even more excited barking.

You couldn’t help but laugh as Tyson continued to make baby noises at Domino, your dog just soaking up all the attention, the ridiculous situation settling down into fussing over the happy animal that had pushed its way between you.

“I would promise that this won’t happen again, but I really can’t,” you mused.

“Eh, he’s just a puppy, he’ll get there!” Tyson grinned, shrugging.

This guy really was just sweet all round, wasn’t he?

The two of you indulged your dog for a few more minutes until he calmed down, jumping off the sofa to curl up at your feet with a happy sigh that only a thoroughly spoiled puppy could pull off. Tyson just grinned as he settled back into the sofa, propping his head up with his hand, smiling widely at you.

“At least I’ll have a funny kiss story if anyone ever asks,” he teased.

Oh god.

“You’re the worst and I don’t know why I like you,” you groaned.

Tyson just threw his head back with laughter, leaving you to bat at his chest in protest until he was able to stop.

“Mercy, mercy,” he giggled, clutching at your hands.

“On one condition,” you warned.

“Anything,” he said, smiling.

“Stay for dinner?” you suggested, biting your bottom lip briefly in nerves.

“Done.”

[thegreatimpersonator]

Meg I can't shake the feeling that we're going to go a full two years without hearing a completely new Halsey song. "So Good" was the last fully new one and it came out July 2022. And I just have this hunch that we're going to hit a full 730 days before we see something new.

but I want to trust the feeling in your bones!!!

WAIT so good was almost TWO YEARS AGO???? I'm sure we'll have an announcement or a single before july but oh my god i really didn't realize it's been that long!

[agardenandlibrary]

I posted 10,450 times in 2022

That's 3,620 more posts than 2021!

880 posts created (8%)

9,570 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@agardenandlibrary

@longsightmyth

@do-you-have-a-flag

@inneskeeper

@spaceshipkat

I tagged 2,997 of my posts in 2022

#cara rags on fba - 382 posts

#myth rags on fba - 134 posts

#cara reads wot - 113 posts

#my book picture - 102 posts

#wheel of time - 64 posts

#cara reads the dragon reborn - 58 posts

#discworld - 56 posts

#cara podcasts - 51 posts

#star trek - 51 posts

#cara reads 2022 - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i straight up thought my aunt was gonna announce her divorce!! she starts off talking about getting married the day mt st helen's exploded!!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

episode 3 of pride and prejudice 1995 may be the funniest

“shelves in the closet? happy thought indeed”

“i thought at least the pigs had gotten into the garden”

“what - *camera zooms in on lady catherine* - all your sisters out at once?”

“colonel fitzwilliam why is your cousin staring at me” - darcy comes over and makes awkward small talk. colonel fitzwilliam smirks at lizzie like “he’s got it bad, girlfriend”

“if i had ever learnt [to play piano] i would have been a true proficient”

colonel fitzwilliam sitting back to watch the carnage as lizzie goes for darcy’s throat. darcy’s little smirk as he says “I am not afraid of you”

darcy rolls his eyes when lady catherine interrupts his flirt-fest with lizzie

I had to pause it for a while but in the last 15 minutes of this episode:

Darcy’s first attempt to propose where he mostly tries to communicate his feelings via intense staring

lizzie  brings up that jane is in london and for one second you can see darcy go “wait... does she know that i’ve ruined jane’s chances with bingley? no, no it’s cool, i’ve covered my tracks”

darcy and lizzie having two moments of agreeing on a point: when they roast mr. collins and when they say how great charlotte is

“you would not wish to always be near longbourn” lasjldfalsdf you’re NOT SMOOTH

then he just BAILS like “OH NO I’VE SAID TOO MUCH”

when col. fitzwilliam meets up with lizzie in the park I think he’s trying to talk up darcy, like “oh yeah, my cousin’s hot for this girl, i’ll be a good wingman” then he’s like “actually what if we roasted darcy a little, we had fun with that yesterday”

next day darcy comes back and lizzie’s like “fuck it, he can carry the conversation this time, i’m annoyed as hell with him and he hates me anyway”

AND THEN HE GOES FOR THE WORST PROPOSAL IN THE WHOLE SERIES AND I’M INCLUDING MR. COLLINS’ ATTEMPT, OKAY?

the LOOK she gives him. and she’s POLITE. DEVASTATINGLY POLITE in her refusal. and he’s gotta ask, he’s gotta know why and lizzie’s like “SINCE YOU FUCKING ASKED, ACTUALLY, HERE’S MY LIST OF GRIEVANCES, listed chronologically from most recent --”

*blank stare* “and this is your opinion of me”

when he leaves the doorknob squeaks and I feel like he fumbled that in his panic

lizzie left standing in the cottage going "what the fuck just happened"

625 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#4

I'm casually looking up information about the Wild Hunt and I just found this:

there's a Motif-Index of Folk Literature?!

There are multiple motif-indices?

See the full post

730 notes - Posted March 2, 2022

#3

okay the reason the “darcy wet t-shirt contest” scene works in p&p1995 as a fan service scene is because we’ve spent 3.5hrs watching these people be incredibly buttoned up and correct and suddenly Lizzie is in his HOUSE ogling his PORTRAIT and his WELL MAINTAINED LAWNS and then there’s the man himself and he’s in a wet shirt and you can see that he has skin? under his clothes? is that chest hair?!

lizzie literally stares at his tits for a solid two seconds before she’s like “oh god his eyes are up there”

1,724 notes - Posted April 19, 2022

#2

I'm going to make a collection of quotes about Anne Elliot that make me clutch my heart in sorrow

Half the sum of attraction, on either side, might have been enough, for he had nothing to do, and she had hardly anybody to love;

She had been forced into prudence in her youth, she learned romance as she grew older -- the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning.

"I cannot possible do without Anne," was Mary's reasoning; and Elizabeth's reply was, "Then I am sure Anne had better stay. for nobody will want her in Bath." To be claimed as a good, though in an improper style, is at least better than being rejected as no good at all.

She knew that when she played [piano] she was giving pleasure only to herself; but this was no new sensation: excepting one short period of her life, she had never, since the age of fourteen, never since the loss of her dear mother, known the happiness of being listened to, or encouraged by any just appreciation or real taste. In music she had been always used to feel alone in the world.

1,893 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I love Cecil. He's like "incomprehensible horrors happen every day! Not to me though :)" and then they do happen to him and he's like "WHAT THE F–" every. time.

2,309 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[aamethyst000]

looking after someone with dementia - March 2,23 1:28pm

I came to her house yesterday evening at around 530pm, almost forgot to heat up her supper yesterday (I actually felt guilty about it) and stayed upstairs for a bit to keep her company for an hour or two. then I remembered that I was told she likes to be alone some time, so I came downstairs to figure out how to work the tv. I managed to figure it out, got on YouTube and started watching "The Last of Us" part one: episode 12 (markiplier let's play) at the part where ellie is taking care of injured Joel and then ended up being kidnapped by the cannibalistic Pedophile (he deserved so much more pain before death). Joel manages to save her even though he isn't fully healed.

I went to bed at 130am last night, had a hard time going to sleep because I COULD NOT just warm up for the life of me. I actually woke up before my alarm this morning, I was gonna say I am surprised but I think it is because I am in someone else's house. She seems to wake up very early, is she goes to bed at like 7 or 8. She has been kind to me so far, we didn't have much of a conversation. I guess she prefers that, judging by the way she talks to the nurses when they come in. I was told that I CAN go home for a few hours but the thoughts and doubts in my head are telling me otherwise. so, I am waiting for a friend of hers (also a nurse) to come here so I can ask her if I can head home for a few hours and then come back. I just don't know when she will be here.

3:30pm - yeah, I am not going home at any point today. kind of disappointed cause if the frie d comes over NOW. there will be no point. by the time I make it home, I'll only have time to change and get tf out again. I wanted to brush my teeth and take my pills (forgot to pack them). it is kind of annoying when stuff like that happens. I had assumed I'd be here another day, I was just hoping to go home and let off some tension I have in my body. oh well, one more full day.

I just finished watching TLOU part one on YouTube, ill be watching ellie's storyline before I start on part two. Poor Ellie went through so much in her life. She was even being trained to kill fireflies. I'm a little surprised at that at the same time,it sounds like something the government would do to gain power again.

6:05pm - I just finished watching ellie's storyline, and OH MY GOD I AM IN TEARS. I fckn LOVED IT!!! AND now I am watching part two of TLOU, I am READY for tears man. anyway, I think the lady I am looking after is slowly getting ready for bed. at the very least, she is slowly getting settled down. last night, she went to bed at like 730. she got up pretty early this morning. so far, this is not much different to my own daily routine. which is great ^-^ my nerves has finally calmed down a lot today. I even wrote 4 pages in my journal!

7:24pm - woo, I might be able to go home some time after lunch tomorrow. the daughter of the lady with dementia will hopefully be here by then. she just messaged me telling me she just got home, hopefully it wasn't a rough ride back. poor thing fell off of the roof of the shed. I have been double checking the woodstove and the front door all day (actually both of us have). the front door slide open sometimes and the woodstove doesn't warm up the upper part of the house. I feel bad about that. anyway, she put herself to bed, turned off all the upstairs lights and turned off the TV. I might go to bed early tonight, knowing I have to get up at like 9am or even 830am.

[marie-hoe]

hi can u write a seb x reader where they’re best friends and shes been madly in love with him for a while so everytime he talks to her about his current gf she gets hurt and so one day she just blurts it out

Don't Care

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: fluff 🤷‍♀️

Words: 730

You sighed as the world around you went dark. Your knees began to feel weak as your mind was spinning, your heart aching.

You stood in front of your best friend, listening as he rambled on and on about his girlfriend. She was a publicity stunt. You knew it, everyone knew it, but Sebastian continued to try spinning the illusion that it was not.

He tried desperately to paint a picture of two love birds falling in love just at the convenient time that his new movie was releasing and she was doing whatever the fuck it was she does; however, everyone around him knew it was a facade.

You took a deep breath, ears honing in on what he’s saying quickly, as to make sure you’re not missing anything of importance. “...and she got me this thing, it’s like a...”

Not of importance.

You allowed yourself to stop listening to his voice again, brain focusing on everything else but the contents coming from his cute little mouth.

Like the way his hair had grown out and appeared to be floofy and soft. The facial hair he’d grown out specifically for the feature set to release in two weeks. The small patch of gray hair in his beard that worried you that he’d been stressed out and tired working so hard lately, and the way he nervously licked his lips while trying to persuade you of the lovely couple’s happiness.

“But she said she wanted to get a dog instead, but I don’t know...” You rolled your eyes, groaning as you put a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Sebby, can I be honest?” You asked as he looked in shock at the hand on his chest, eyes wandering up to your face in worry as he nodded.

“You’re my best friend, (y/n), of course you can.”

You sigh, looking up at him as your fingers tinkered with one another anxiously. “I truly, from the bottom of my heart, don’t fucking care.”

He scoffed at your blunt words, fingers lightly pushing at your shoulder as he laughed, waiting for you to break your cold expression and laugh with him.

Instead, you stared at him deadpan, letting him know you were being completely serious. He stopped laughing, straightening his body as he spoke, “oh my god, (y/n), that’s fucking rude. After everything I’ve listened to you complain about all these years?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his forearm to drag him away from the party, into a bedroom. You pulled him in after you, quickly shutting the door behind you before someone could see the both of you.

He stood in the middle of the room, hands held out in exasperation as he awaited your explanation. “Listen, Seb. I don’t know if you’re fucking blind and deaf, but I’m in love with you. I don’t fucking care how desperately you want us to believe in a contractual girlfriend because I fucking love you, you fucking idiot,” you blurted out, fingers punching the bridge of your nose.

He stepped closer to you slowly, mind spinning with the information. His hands fell to your hips, eyes trying to meet yours as he whispered softly, “you’re in love with me?”

You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut, “Sebby, I don’t need you to make fun of me, I just can’t-.”

He cut you off with his lips meeting yours gently. You were in shock for a moment as his lips molded against yours, hands pulling you closer to him by your hips as you melted under his touch. Your lips moved against his, working in unison as your hands wound around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

He pulled away from the kiss, forehead leaning against yours as you bit the inside of your lip nervously. He pecked your nose with a soft chuckle as he announced, “I’ll get rid of her.”

You giggled softly, hands wrapping around his sides, “be nice about it, she’s just doing her job.”

He scoffed, head leaning back as he yelled, “Babe, we’re done, rip the contract up!”

“Shh, Shh,” you tried shushing him, hands folding over his mouth as he laughed. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up before setting you down on the chest of drawers against the wall.

“She’s gotta go,” he mumbled against your lips as you both giggled through your kisses.

[dreamy625]

loml - Chapter 5 and epilogue

Words: 730 + 575

Content: Modern-day Steve Clark x OC standalone fic in seven parts. Basically fluffy fangirl wish-fulfilment! If 'what if Steve didn't die' fics are not your thing, you might want to skip this one. 

-----------------------------

Chapter 5

Now that I’m invited, I’m suddenly nervous all over again. Up to now, everything could be brushed off as casual, just people who happen to bump into each other in the neighbourhood (ignoring that this isn’t my neighbourhood and that I contrived the ‘chance’ meetings). But this is deliberate. Are we friends now? I mean, that was my fantasy, but all I thought would really happen, best case scenario, was that first meeting going well and me getting to talk to him more than just asking for an autograph. I almost didn’t go back the second time, thought about keeping it as just one perfect memory. If the second time had been really awkward, if he hadn’t wanted to talk to me, it would all have been ruined. I hadn’t really planned anything beyond finding him that first time and everything since has been winging it. I’ve just been going with whatever happens and trying not to think about it (which, if you knew my talent for overthinking, you would appreciate is a herculean act of will!). But now it’s getting real, and I don’t want to stumble into something when I don’t know what it is. Apart from anything else, it’s not fair on him. Despite the myriad of pub friends, he seems fundamentally lonely, and I’d feel like I was taking advantage of him if I pushed him further into a friendship whose basis was more in my teenage dreams than real common ground. Meeting him, he’s not like I expected. He’s not that golden god I worshipped as a kid, but also not that broken shell the media presented each time he got picked up for being drunk and disorderly or after every failed stint in rehab. He’s just a nice guy. Funny. Sweet. Good at crosswords. Pets cats in the street. Lets kids win at snooker. They say you should never meet your idols, but if your idol’s Steve Clark then you definitely should, because he’s lovely. I like him, he’s very likeable. But is there more than that? I just don’t know. And does he like me? He seems to enjoy my company, and has seemingly accepted my sudden presence in his life without really questioning it, but on the other hand, half the time he can’t remember my name!

When I ring the bell, the door is opened not by Steve but by a young woman wearing a tabard and a suspicious expression. 

“Oh, hi. Is Steve home?”

“Not today thank you.” She starts to close the door.

“Maggie? It is Maggie, right?” This makes her pause, but she’s still scowling.

“Is he home?” She doesn’t answer. “He… invited me. Just ask him, please? Tell him it’s Georgie.” Hopefully this is one of the days he does remember my name.

She still doesn’t look convinced, but says okay and goes back inside, pointedly shutting the door. I don’t know if she’s even going to ask him, and wonder how long I can just loiter in the street, but after a few minutes the door opens again and with an expression that has softened to merely long-suffering, she says ‘Come in then’. I step into the hall and hear guitar music coming from somewhere within. 

“Shoes.”

She’s pointing at my feet, so I bend and take off my boots, feeling like a nine-year-old visiting a posh friend’s house. Maggie gestures at the staircase leading down to the basement.

“I know the way, thank you so much.” I say with a level of charm bordering on obnoxious, partly from relief and partly just a little bit smug. 

As I get to the bottom of the stairs I see it is Steve playing the music, strumming with his eyes shut. I try not to make a noise, to not break his concentration, but he must sense I’m there because he stops and opens his eyes. His face breaks into the biggest grin, and I don’t know in that moment if it’s for me, or for the music, or both, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the same smile, from that music video all those years ago. Nevermind the grey hair and the wrinkles, it’s the exact same smile and it has the exact same effect of making my heart do a somersault and my lungs forget how to breathe. So that answers that part of the question then.

Epilogue

Reader, I married him.

Ha ha. Not really! Once was more than enough for me, thanks very much. But it turns out that grin was for me and, nearly five years later, he’s still smiling at me and it still makes me dizzy. And yes, he remembers my name now.

Some people - his management company, some of his old friends who I think are just trying to look out for him but to my mind were a little over-aggressive in how they went about it - have accused me of manipulating him. And while it’s true I did contrive those first few ‘casual’ meetings, I don’t think it was any more than you might do if, say, you fancied someone you met at work or at the gym. It’s only because of who he is and that he has money that anyone has a problem with it. Steve’s perfectly capable of making his own mind up about things - he’s not someone’s senile old grandpa and I’m not Anna-Nicole Smith! And yes, there’s an age gap, but only twelve years, and loads of rockstars have younger partners - look at Mick Jagger, he’s nearly eighty and his girlfriend’s, what, thirty five? Fifty-seven and forty-five (as we were when we met) seems entirely unremarkable in that context. 

But I knew how it could look, so of course I told him - that it had all been a cunning plan -  when the next trip to the pub ended with us kissing under a lamppost on the way home. The whole thing, that I had planned it for weeks and that I was commuting to my ‘local pub’ all the way from Streatham, and even that I don’t really smoke! I wanted him to know before, if, anything serious happened between us, so he couldn’t ever feel like he had been tricked. I needn’t have worried because, of course, I’m not nearly as subtle and sneaky as I think I am! Once I had made my confession, he volunteered one of his own, admitting that after the second ‘chance’ encounter, he’d decided that even if I was, in his words, ‘a loony’, I was ‘a cute loony’ and he was going to go along with it and see what happened. He was a little freaked out that I had had such a massive crush on him for so long - he was afraid he couldn’t live up to my expectations. But I explained that, now I had met him, the Steve from then and the Steve from now were, to me, basically different people (which was true) and that while I’d loved eighties rockstar Steve, I also really liked the current Steve and wanted to get to know him better (also true). Over the years I’ve gradually melded them together in my mind though and now I can see 1988-Steve in modern-day-Steve, in my Steve, which I couldn’t do to start with. It was seeing him play on stage, when his band supported the Lepps on their European dates on the last tour, that finally made it click. He still moves the same way, albeit a bit creakier and missing out the lying on the stage part because he’d never get back up! Everyone’s cheering and jumping up and down and I’m standing there crying my eyes out because I’m seeing my teenage heartthrob and the man I love all in one for the first time. Truly, as the kids say, the loml.

[leafs-lover]

Because Two People Got Drunk: 37

Chapter 37

Series Masterlist

A/N: Just a short little chapter while I work on the next one :)

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Word Count: 1500

“Hey" you yawn answering your Facetime.

“Hey” he says shifting on the other end of the screen. “You in the tub?”

“Yeah.”

“What I would do to be in that tub with you” he growls lowly. He is so quiet you aren’t even sure he meant for him to hear it, but he smirks when he sees the light blush hit your cheeks. You squirm slightly thinking of having him with you. You hear water slosh out over the edge onto the floor, but you don’t care.

“Haven’t heard from you much today" Fred says.

“Yeah someone on Ollie’s hockey team had the flu so now all three boys have it" you explain running your hand along the lukewarm bath water.

“Shit babe I’m sorry" he sighs. “How bad is it?”

“All three have fevers, none of them wanted to take medicine. Noah puked on me, Lucas on himself. I set up some blankets on the floor for all them with some pillows and Ollie puked on it. Just a lot of changing clothes, crying and a lot of laundry.”

“I wish I was there smuk" he says softly.

“Yeah me too”

“They sleeping now?” he asks.

“Yeah the fell asleep about half an hour ago” you say shooting your eyes over to the baby monitor, the twins in the position you left them in. “It was a long and stressful day. I came in here to destress but it didn’t help. Hang on a sec" you set the phone down and pull the plug. Carefully stepping out onto your tile floor you wrap a towel around your body before picking up your phone.

“Can I do anything?” he asks though it’s kind of hard 1500km away.

“Maybe" you reply raising an eyebrow.

“Name it.” You set the phone on the counter in your closet and begin to rummage through some of the drawers pulling out the pink velvet bag. Fred sits silently watching, waiting for more direction when you pull something into view.

“You still have this app setup?” you ask holding your bullet vibrator.

“Of course, not a chance I’d delete that" he laughs. It’s been well over a year since you have used it. “But that’s what you want from me?” he laughs.

“I’m stressed. My tea didn’t help, my bath didn’t help, I think this will" you whine with a pout on your lips. He smirks back at you, and you know the pout is a little over the top because this is something he is always more than willing to help with.

“If an orgasm is what my pregnant fiancé wants, an orgasm is what she will receive” he says bringing a large smile to your face. “Go lie down I’ll call you back in a minute.

You leave your towel hanging in the bathroom and walk into your shared bedroom. It’s only 730 but the dark winter skies have filled the room. Turning on the two bedside lamps you get comfortable on your bed, jumping when your ringtone goes off.

“Hey babygirl" he says.

“You look good with no shirt" you moan staring at his toned body through the screen. He has his tablet set up on the table in the room showing his face and part of his hard chest.

“So do you" he laughs “let me see the bump.”

A smirk crosses your face as you tilt the phone in your hand, rubbing over your stomach with your other.

“You look so good skat" he groans watching your hand gently stroke over your bump that has exploded in the six weeks since the all-star break. “Baby give you a hard time today?”

“No, one of our kids gave me an easy day” you turn the phone back to your face.

“I’m glad one kid didn’t give you trouble" he laughs.

“Fred" you moan patience wearing thin. He chuckles lightly in response and tells you to slide the vibrator to your entrance. You feel a low pace start while you rub it up and down your slit.

A chill runs down your spine as your core becomes ignited. Slowly you slip it inside your walls your head falling back into the pillow in the process.

Instantly the speed goes to the highest setting, but begins to change from short and fast to low and slow. Fred chuckles telling you he is getting reacquainted with the controls, but you know he likes to watch you squirm.

“Freddie" you moan when he settles on a low speed. “What would you do if you were here?” you ask him.

“Well I would have went to the store and bought more Tylenol for the boys; grape because that’s their favourite. Also would have got some apple sauce, bananas, crackers, soup, juice and freezes. Everything needed to help our boys" he says as you feel the vibrations increase.

“Then I’d cuddle on the floor with them since once you get down there you can’t get up" he laughs “and give them the medicine and juice.”

You grip the bedsheets as the vibrations inside you are getting faster. Your breathing is becoming uneasy.

“I’d give the boys baths to help cool them off and I’d do all the laundry and put it away.”

You’re moans are getting louder; you can feel your orgasm bubbling deep in your core. You’re eyes find the screen and you expect to see Fred’s hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking himself to the image of you. Instead you are met by his shirtless body sitting in the chair staring intently at you.

He smiles when he sees your eyes find his and that’s when you realize the screen is pointed at your face, not at the vibrator currently buried deep inside your walls.

You turn the phone but Fred stops you “Jeg vil se dit smukke ansigt, mens du falder fra hinanden elskede (I want to watch your pretty face while you fall apart love).

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs squirm on the bed. Your breathing is becoming erratic as Fred found the pattern that unravels you in minutes.

“I’d make dinner so I’d know you are also taken care of. Something with teriyaki sauce, you’ve been craving that a lot. Once the boys were tucked in I’d draw you a nice warm bubble bath and set one of my shirts and boxers on the counter because I know how you prefer them to your pyjamas when pregnant.

I’d slip in behind you in the tub, be your pillow keeping my hands placed gently on your stomach hoping to feel our baby kick. Once you’d start to relax, and it would take a bit because you’d be so worried about the boys, I’d get you to slide forward and I’d start rubbing your shoulders and neck. I’d work on all your knots sliding down your back until the water got cold.

Your legs shake and Fred keeps talking but you can’t focus on a word he is saying. Fred’s deep husky voice coupled with the vibrations in your core has you coming done. Your moans are loud while your eyes clamp shut and you grip the sheet tightly. White spots cloud your vision and your whole body shudders as you feel yourself release.

“Oh my god" your voice quivers.

“Fuck” you smile opening your eyes to see Fred’s dark brown eyes smiling back at you. You feel the vibrations stop but your breathing is still erratic.

You take a few minutes to allow you’re breathing to even out, Fred intently watching you through the screen. After regaining your composure you set your toy on the bedside table you grab Fred’s shirt pulling it over your body.

“Who knew me being so domestic would get you going" he chuckles as you pull the toy out setting it on the bedside table.

“Yeah it’s crazy a woman being attracted to a man who takes care of his family” you laugh shooting him a wink.

“I mean obviously your doing something right, 4 kids and all" you smirk rubbing your hand over your stomach.

“You feel better?” he asks a slight blush hitting his cheeks.

“Yeah I do" you yawn crawling under the covers “but you didn’t -" you start but are cut off.

“Tonight was about you elskede" he smiles. “Gotta make sure my girl is at 100% when I’m not there to help.”

“Two more days” you smile at him through the screen crawling under the sheets.

“You going to bed?” he asks.

“Yeah but can you stay on a bit longer” you prop your phone up beside the lamp on your side table.

“Of course” he smiles walking over to the bed, he sits with his back against the headboard. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything” you mumble “I just want to hear your voice.”

You hear him chuckle slightly as your eyes flutter closed. He starts by telling you how much he loves you, then the tells you how you need to pick out furniture for the nursery so he can build it before the playoffs start in about six weeks. He switches from Danish to English as his words fade into the background. His voice is low and soothing as it lulls you to sleep.

Next Chapter

[glenncoco4]

730 Days

A/N: Happy 2 years to our favorite couple! Also, a little callback to Higher Power.

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

She hadn't been feeling good all day. These bouts of nausea along with major fatigue were effecting her more and more by the day. Her body and emotions were being put through the wringer, and on top of all that she kept getting worried glances from her husband all day at work, along with a myriad of text when he was out in the field.

He's worried about her, she knows that and if the roles were reversed there's no doubt that she would be acting the same, but she's also feeling a bit claustrophobic.

It's in the moment that he tells her she needs to eat something that she snaps back at him and she then realizes just how bad these mood swings are. He doesn't say anything back to her, but she can feel his eyes watch as she packs up her bag and starts heading towards the door.

She begrudgingly makes her way towards the truck as the defining silence and her husband follow her.

A few minutes later her eyes are watching the golden sun illuminates the buildings, as they pass by. She's so lost in her thoughts that when he turns onto a new street it takes a second to realize that they're in their neighborhood.

The blood quickly drains from her face when he pulls up into their driveway without a word and jumps out of the truck. They were suppose to be going to the pier for dinner in celebration but that's obviously not happening now, she shouldn't have snapped at him, he was only trying to help. She feels tears spring to her eyes and can't help fight the feeling of helplessness, as she reaches for the handle and prepares herself for a night full of silence.

She's so caught up in her actions that she doesn't notice him coming around to her side of the vehicle until he's opening the door with an understanding smile on his face.

He's immediately alarmed when he sees her tears, worried that something happened in the few brief seconds that he was absent. His hands find her face, as he scans her eyes, looking for any indication of what could be wrong. "Baby, what is it? Are you okay?"

Goddamn these hormones is the first thing that crosses her mind. Her eyes follow his cerulean blues that are mixed with worry and turmoil, unable to stop her lip from quivering as she slowly nods her head, but the tears are already falling.

Before she knows it, he's pulling her out of her seat and into his chest. His strong arms wrap around as he cradles her against his body helplessly. His lips find the crown of her head, feeling his own tears start to form in his eyes as she her fingers cling to back of his shirt. Her muffled sobs, breaking his heart that much more. "I thought you were mad at me."

He pulls back slightly, his finger finding her chin, tilting her head up so that he can see her beautiful eyes. "Baby, you have every right to feel how you're feeling. Your body is going through so much, I know you don't mean it and I also know that I've been a little annoying the past few days."

"A little?"

He scrunches his nose at her quick reply. "Touché."

His thumb finds her soft skin as he wipes her tear stained cheek, a teary-eyed smile spreading to her face. "Touché."

Unable to stop himself, he huffs a laugh. "Why do you do this to me?"

"What ever do you mean?"

He shakes his head, as she playfully bats her eyelashes at him.

Grabbing her hand, he reaches for her bag and then shuts the door before making their way into the house where he immediately guides her to their bedroom and tells her to undress. She's just about to protest when he slips into the bathroom and she hears the water turn on.

Doing as she's told, the brunette slowly pulls off her clothes, but grows curious when he doesn't immediately come back out. Once fully bare, she steps into the en suite and realizes why he's still in there. She's met with a very amazing view of his perfect derrière, as he pours some lavender along with bubbles into the water before lighting a few candles.

"Nice ass."

"Oh, you like that, huh?"

"Mmmhmm." She smirks as he pops his butt out even more and starts backing up into her.

She can't help but laugh a his ridiculous action when he suddenly stops, whipping around and places a kiss to her lips. "Your bath awaits you, my queen."

Taking his offered hand, she follows him to the tub, noticing that the jets are already turned on. God this man. With the help of her partner, she steps into the warm water, already feeling the pain and ache dissipate from her body.

She sits down, leaning her head back against the edge as her eyes slowly close. Taking a deep relaxing breath she waits for her husband to join but he never does, somewhat alarming her. She opens her eyes once again only to see him watching her, unmoving. "Husbands don't stare at their wives."

"Maybe not other husbands," He smiles thinking back to the last time she said those words to him and how so much has changed. Slowly bending down, he gets on his knees, now eye level with her, his fingers finding the stray piece of hair, and pushes it behind her ear. "But I most definitely stare at my wife."

The semi-shaggy blonde lets out a content sigh, raising his wife's curiosity. "What?"

"I shouldn't be allowed to be this happy."

He's trying to kill her; he's physically trying to kill her. His words paired with the look in his eyes tempts her to just pull him in with her, clothes and all. "I could make you even happier if you joined me."

"I know you could, but I have to do something." He doesn't make a move at her offer and stands up, leaning down once more to places a kiss to her forehead. "Enjoy your bath, baby."

XXXX

She steps into the the living room an hour later, surprised that her partner hadn't come to check on her. Her body almost feels like new, as she stretches her limbs. Stepping into the kitchen half expecting to see her man standing over the stove, she surprised yet again at the empty room. "Babe?"

He doesn't answer back, making her worry. She steps into the mudroom, thinking maybe he was doing some laundry or giving Monty a bath, but all she finds her their old pooch sprawled out in his bed. Bending down, Kensi runs her fingers through his mange. "Where's daddy, boy?"

He raises his head for a minute as if he's sizing her up before huffing and laying back down. "Yeah, I don't know either."

Tracking back down the hall, she's about to go for her phone when something in the backyard catches her attention. She walks over to the sliding glass door as she watches her husband maneuver around their new backyard, hanging up a string of lights that she pointed out to him the other day.

She watches as he hammers the nail, hitting his finger the first time before he's able to secure the wire. He hops off the ladder and meets her eyes, a nervous smile spreading to his lips, as she opens door.

Walking towards her, he runs his fingers nervously through his golden locks.

"What did you do?"

"Well, I know you probably weren't feeling up to going out tonight so during lunch run I stopped by the store and well..." His eyes lock with hers, as he tries to read her. "Is it okay?"

The tears begin to run down her cheeks as she nods, falling into his arms.

Taking her hand in his, he leads her over to the outdoor patio, as the fire in the pit crackles, and their favorite love song playlist playing in the background.

He guides her to the couch, stretching out his arm to offer her a seat. She watches as he quickly heads back inside but comes right back out with a steaming mug and a bottle of red Gatorade. If she wasn't married to him already, she'd definitely be down on one knee right now.

She gladly takes the mug of chicken broth from him as he sits the bottle of of electrolytes on the side table next to her sounding much more like a parent than she's ever heard before. "I thought this would be better on your stomach."

Grabbing one of his hands, she pulls him towards her, brining her lips to his. "Thank you, baby."

He places another kiss to her lips before taking a seat next to her, throwing the blanket over them as she curls into his side. "Anything for you."

She relaxes into his embrace, the bath was amazing but its nothing compared to this. Tilting her head back, she meets his eyes before he leans down, placing his lips to hers once more.

"730 days."

"That's a long time."

He nods, watching as she takes a sip of her broth. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better."

Nervously, he bites his lip, trying to find the courage to say what he's about to say. "I'm gonna say something and all I ask is that you hear me out."

"Okay?"

"I think we should consider adoption."

She whips her head around so fast that she almost gives herself whiplash. "Deeks..."

"Let me finish."

She nods for him to continue and places her mug next to her drink before turning her body fully to face him. The sadness she sees in his eyes worrying her.

"I just hate seeing you like this and knowing that I can't do anything about it. You're making all these sacrifices and we're not even sure this will work. Plus there are tons of kids out there that need parents...that could need us."

"Why are you just now telling me this?"

"Honestly, I know how much you want this...how much we both want this, but I see the toll it's taking on you and I just want you to be okay."

"I can handle this."

"I know but-"

She shakes her head, cutting him off. Her hand finding the scruff of his jaw, his immediately covering it. "But nothing, Deeks. I knew what I was getting into when we started to go this route, and I want this. I want to at least try this because I think if I don't, I'll always wonder what if...we'll always wonder."

"Are you sure?"

Her heart breaks a little at the strain in his voice. "Baby-"

"I just want you to be okay."

"I know." Her lips find his, trying to reassure him as much as possible. Slowly standing up, Kensi offers her hand to him. "Dance with me?"

"Always." He smiles, taking her hand and pulls her into him, her head finding its place in the crook of his neck.

They're able to get through two song, before her dizziness kicks in again. He helps her sit down, handing her the bottle of Gatorade.

Knowing that she's probably about ready to call it a night, he reaches behind the couch and pulls out a bag, handing it over to her. "I actually got you something."

"For me?" She's confused because they both agreed that they weren't doing presents which should've set off her warning bells because it was his idea in the first place. Opening it, she reaches into the paper bag and slowly removes the bottle. A knowing smile graces her face when she sees the familiar label.

"Yeah, its a gift for the tropical sun, it's made by a woman in Venice for a very select clientele, it's hypoallergenic and made with organic coconut oil, shea butter and jojoba."

She gives him a knowing smile, flashing back to 9 years ago at Christmas when he last said those words to her. The Gatorade is helping ease her stomach and she's feeling a lot better. She bites her lip as a plan begins to form in her head. Looking up at him under he eyelashes, she flashes him an "innocent" smile. "You know what would be really good right now?"

"Huh?"

"If you gave me a deep tissue massage with this."

"You're wish is my command, Princess."

She leans forward, bringing her lips to his ear as she whispers. "Sans clothing."

His eyes go wide as her hand finds its way down his stomach and into his boxers, leaving his mouth dry. "Yep, no-yep, that sounds good."

[dangerously-human]

I posted 14,225 times in 2021

455 posts created (3%)

13770 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 30.3 posts.

I added 2,725 tags in 2021

#grishaverse - 730 posts

#endeavour - 486 posts

#personal - 454 posts

#community - 276 posts

#laugh tag - 189 posts

#chuck - 141 posts

#merlin - 124 posts

#pro life - 117 posts

#holy wow - 111 posts

#note to self - 97 posts

Longest Tag: 37 characters

#remember remember the 5th of november

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

He is faithful, he is faithful, he is faithful.

Nothing I've done or can do will ever change that. I am irrevocably a child of God, and he will never, ever let me go.

A reminder for the days it isn't so easy to embrace that truth.

132 notes • Posted 2021-02-05 04:43:03 GMT

#4

Oh look, my favorite hot take is relevant again:

There is no moral association with being scared.

You're allowed to be scared, and it doesn't make you a bad person or a good person. Your fear may be lying to you. It may be based in reality, or it may be completely fictional, but either way, fear is an emotion: you must make choices that take both emotions and logic into consideration. Your fear does not mean you get to make decisions for other people. You are not automatically in the right because you are afraid. You are also not automatically selfish or wrong for being afraid, but it is selfish if you use that as leverage to manipulate others or try to tell others they are bad for not being afraid of the same things you are. This goes both ways; if you try to usurp someone's right to make their own choices or believe you're a better person or automatically in the right because you're not scared, that's wrong too. Fear can serve a purpose to alert us to important things, and it can be used to help guide decisions at times, but it cannot be the sole basis for them, and it can easily become unhealthy when we over-validate it.

This applies in so, so many situations. Be patient with yourself and others for your/their emotional reactions, however different they may be. Be cautious in your choices rather than scared. Do your best to avoid living a life ruled by fear.

134 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 14:30:17 GMT

#3

I don't know if this has occurred to anyone else, but you know just because 2020 ended up being the year of the plague, that doesn't mean we can't still have our roaring 20s/jazz aesthetic resurgence, right? We have a whole new decade of the 20s to make whatever reworked nostalgia we want.

154 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 19:25:36 GMT

#2

Y'all have no idea how freeing it is to be so disconnected from politics and the general vicious news cycle. I'll keep up enough to be informed on what I need to, enough to vote, spend my dollars, and protest where it matters and focus on my own community, where I have the most say and potential impact, but I have spent the last several years so cautious about my news intake and choosing to pray "thy will be done" instead of stressing over each small thing, and it has been so, so good for my mental health.

171 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 03:48:10 GMT

#1

You know, the true tragedy is that we are almost halfway through October and Spooky Scary Skeletons has not come across my dash ONCE!

224 notes • Posted 2021-10-12 20:08:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[jjchantill]

Anniversary: Boyd Holbrook

“You make me better than I was before/Thank god I’m yours.”

The sound of the ringtone you assigned to your boyfriend wakes you up from a dead sleep. You blindly reach out for your phone on the bedside table before hitting answer and pressing it to your ear.

“Hello?” you say, with your voice still groggy with sleep.

“Hey, babe. Did I wake you?”

“No, no, I’m awake,” you say, quickly sitting up.

“How’s your day been?” he asks.

“Good, I had my work presentation today.”

“Oh, yeah! How did it go? Did you knock it out of the park like I knew you would?” Boyd asks.

“Yep, my boss says it was one of the best she’s ever heard,” you said.

“That’s great, babe! I knew you could do it!” he says.

“Thanks, how was your day? Did you guys start filming the last scenes yet?” you ask.

“Nope, the writers and director had a couple of changes that they wanted to make so they postponed filming,” he says.

“Did they say how long?” you ask.

“Nope. I’m sorry, babe. I know we planned on me coming home in a couple of days, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“But that means you’ll miss our anniversary,” you say.

“I know, babe and I know we had plans. Believe me, I’m bummed too. All I want to do is come home to you. I promise that I’ll make it up to you as soon as I get back. Please, don’t get upset.”

“I’m not upset, babe. I mean I am, but I get it, you have to be there to film. I know how important this movie is to you and how important it is for you to finish it. So, you do what you have to do and then come home to me. We’ll celebrate when you get back,” you say.

He’s silent for a minute before he sighs.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, just…how the hell did I get so lucky with you?”

You laugh, “I’m the lucky one.”

“Not possible. I’m the one that has the amazing girlfriend who just told me that she’ll postpone our anniversary plans so I can finish filming my movie because she knows how much it means to me.”

You shrug, “We’ll have plenty of time to celebrate when you get home.”

“We will. I promise you, babe that I’m taking a whole two weeks off. It’ll be just the two of us, no work, no worries, no interviews. Just you and me on a beach somewhere sipping Mai Tais.”

You laugh, “sounds like a plan. I love you, Boyd.”

“I love you too. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

The two of you hang up before you roll over and go back to sleep.

A Few Days Later…

               It’s the day of your anniversary, you and Boyd had been dating for two years. You already knew that he wasn’t going to be home for it, but that doesn’t stop you from being a little bummed out about it. Boyd, being the amazing boyfriend that he is knew you would be upset and made sure you woke up to something special. He had breakfast delivered and even sent 730 roses to your door, one for everyday you have been together. As the day wore on though, your mood started to fade. You missed Boyd. Last year, the two of you had spent the entire day together. This year the two of you were miles and miles apart. Or at least that’s what you thought….you were in the living room trying to figure out what you were going to do with over 700 hundred roses when I knock resounded on your door. Pulling it open, you find yourself face to face with Boyd.

“Boyd?”

He immediately pulls you in for a hug before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips.

“Happy anniversary, baby,” he whispers against your lips.

“But…how…what…how are you here? I thought you had to film the last couple of scenes.”

“I did but turns out one of the writers is a hard core romantic. He overheard our phone call last night and told the director to send me home. Made a whole huge deal out of the whole thing, told the guy that if he didn’t send me home to celebrate my anniversary that he would never the ending to his movie.”

“You’re kidding,” you say.

“Nope. The director booked my plane ticket himself, told me not to come back until my anniversary was successfully celebrated.”

“Well, who am I to argue with an award-winning movie director?” you laugh, before pressing another kiss to Boyd’s lips.

“I take it you’re happy I’m home,” he says.

“Ecstatic, now you can help me figure out what I’m supposed to do with all these flowers that you sent.”

Boyd laughs before following you inside, “I guess I may have gone a little overboard.”

“A little? Most girls get a dozen roses or no roses at all.”

“Well, you aren’t most girls,” he says, pulling you back towards him.

“I’m a girl worth 700 roses?”

“Nope, you’re priceless. The roses are just a reminder of how long I’ve loved you.”

You smile before pressing your lips to his. The two of you spend the rest of the day together, celebrating your anniversary.

[bijackkellys]

there’s something about you that i know (started centuries ago, though)

Fandom: Newsies (All Media Types) Relationships: Jack Kelly/David Jacobs Word Count: 3,122 Dedications: i’d like to give a huge huge shoutout to @glasscherrycoke for being a fantastic beta, and also to @mistyw273 and @ginger--binger for being wonderful and supporting me! (if you’d like to be tagged in future works, drop me an ask or a dm!) Author’s Note: i had to repost this because tumblr likes hiding stuff with links from the tags, so sorry about that! this is my first newsies fic; i hope you guys enjoy it! the title is from past lives by kesha, and you can find this on my ao3 (somethingdivine) as well. Tags: Past Lives, Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Greece, Revolutionary War, World War II, Present Day, Love, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Period Typical Attitudes, other people show up but only kind of, so much botched history, but it's fine?, they kiss a lot so...there

Those are the nights when Jack thinks he’s known this forever. He doesn’t believe in fate or fairy tales, but the first time that Davey kisses him, raw and desperate and loving, the warmth that courses through him is so achingly familiar that he wonders if maybe this is all he’s ever known—Davey’s hands and Davey’s eyes and Davey’s mouth against his in the dark.

/ or, time after time, Jack and Davey always find each other again.

i. around 730 BCE

The first time they meet—or the fourth, or maybe the hundredth—it is midsummer, and they are sixteen.

In those days, the world seems doused in gold. Sunlight spills over the grassy cliffs, drags its fingertips across the sea and leaves glittering trails behind, and this is where Jonas—who will one day, centuries from now, be called Jack—finds himself dreaming.

Below him, the waves crest and break over the rocks, a steady rhythm like a song. Above him the sky is blue and bright, and here he can taste the salt in the air and lay spread-eagled in the grass and listen for the call of birds. He’s never had a place to call his own, but this, he thinks, on those golden summer days, could be something like it.

So when the stranger comes, footsteps soft against the ground, and the two of them lock eyes, the world falls suddenly still.

The other boy breaks the silence first. “Hello,” he says, all at once tentative and bright as he holds out an open hand. “I’m Damen.” In this life he is, anyway.

And then he smiles, and whatever hesitation had brimmed within Jonas before leaches out of him fast and abruptly. He pushes himself to his elbows and takes the offered hand. “I’m Jonas,” he replies, and really, that’s all that it takes.

In the weeks after, Jonas holds his breath and waits for the day when Damen will stop coming. It seems like only a matter of time, like soon, this lovely, quick-mouthed boy will find another stretch of sea and leave these cliffs behind. He doesn’t, though. He comes back, over and over, and somehow it becomes natural to find the two of them sprawled out beside each other while the sun sinks behind the horizon and paints the whole sky.

Damen, he learns quickly, is smart. Smarter than anyone that Jonas has ever known. He has this animated way of speaking, his hands always moving in tandem with his mouth as he relays the stories of Homer and the lessons he’s learned in school. Jonas carves into stones with a bronze blade and listens; he doesn’t care much for tales of the gods, but he likes the magic weaved into Damen’s voice. He likes the glimmer of Damen’s eyes as he retells the epics he knows by heart.

“I’ve never known anyone like you,” Jonas says one night. They’ve stayed out past dark, their laughter pouring over the edge of the cliff and into the water, and the two of them have built something here, a fleeting temple made from stories and fingers laced together and the sound of the sea.

Damen looks at him, drenched in silver from the moonlight. “I’m so glad I met you, Jonas,” he says, his voice like a ghosting breath, and then their lips slot together, Jonas’ fingers curling in the rough fabric of Damen’s tunic, Damen tugging a hand through his hair. It’s raw and heavenly and it’s true.

And oh, he has never believed in the gods, but there under the stars, tasting a boy who will one day, centuries from now, be called David, Jonas thinks he’s found something divine. -

ii. 1781

The war isn’t as glorious as the pamphlets make it out to be.

David knows what he’s fighting for, knows that their cause is just. He’s read all of the papers, attended the rallies in New York where men stand on upturned crates and strain to be heard over the crowds, speaking of taxes and freedom and revolution. He believes in this. Believes that they can build a new nation up from the ground.

But this part is different. Here, the tents stink of sweat and dirt and blood, and when he closes his eyes, he watches bodies fall, watches bullets rain down over the earth like hellfire. The battle is over and they’ve come out victorious, but he doesn’t feel any more free. He feels tired and wracked with grief, and empty.

“You should get that wrapped,” a soft voice says above him, and David looks up.

He knows Jack in the vague, limited way that he knows the others in their contingent: by name and face and not much else. The man—boy, he amends, because he can’t be any older than David is—stares at the still-bleeding gash on David’s arm. “Could get infected.”

“I know,” he says, and then winces at the sharpness in his own voice and shakes his head. “You’re right. I will.”

There’s a moment of quiet, and distantly, they can hear the chirping of crickets and the screams from the medicine tents. David clenches his fist in the grimy cloth of his uniform. Then Jack is kneeling in front of him, grabbing a roll of bandages from beside the low cot. “Let me,” he says, and David doesn’t know what compels him to extend his injured arm, but he does anyway.

Jack’s hands are careful, careful, like David is something made of glass instead of a bruised and bloodied soldier. He pours water over a clean cloth and wipes the blood away, and while he does this he says, “Davey, right?” David nods, and Jack smiles just a little. “What’s your story?”

As Jack winds the bandage around his arm, David tells him about school, and Sarah and Les and his family. He tells him about the things that he’s read, and Jack just listens, nodding every so often and staying even when he’s finished dressing the wound.

“I didn’t expect it to be like this,” David confesses finally, the bone-deep ache of the memories from the battle bleeding into his voice. “I’m not naive, I knew there would be death, but not…” he swallows hard, “not like this.”

When Jack looks at him, there’s something strained and quiet behind his gaze. “It’s not like it is in the papers,” he agrees, half-hurt, half-bitter. “It doesn’t seem so honorable out here. Just seems like dying.”

David draws a shuddering breath, and that’s when Jack takes his hand. “We’ll make it out of this, alright?” he says, suddenly fierce. “We’ll win this war, and you’ll see your family again.”

It’s not a promise he can keep. They won’t live long enough to love each other, not this time. They’ll both be dead in a matter of days, miles apart from one another, and something in them knows it—that’s the way that war ends. Bloody and gruesome and tragic.

For now, though, Jack’s calloused fingers are cool as they brush against his, and David nods. “Yeah,” he says, daring, in the moment, to hope. “We’ll get through it.”

Jack stays beside him until exhaustion tugs at their eyelids, and when he leaves, he passes a hand over David’s forehead, the gesture strangely familiar and so, so tender. Warmth pushes past the hurt to bloom softly in David’s chest. They’ll live, at least, long enough to see another morning.

“‘Night, Davey,” Jack breathes, and then blows out the candle, and the world plunges into darkness. -

iii. 1899

In the months after the strike ends, Jack always ends up here.

He’ll tuck the little ones into bed and then he’ll cross the Manhattan streets in the dark, make his way to the fire escape and climb the ladder and the stairs until he’s beside Davey’s window. He’ll knock twice on the glass, and then Davey will come, will always come—sometimes carrying something warm to drink, tea or milk sweetened with honey, and always with those bright, bright eyes.

Those are the nights when Jack thinks he’s known this forever. He doesn’t believe in fate or fairy tales, but the first time that Davey kisses him, raw and desperate and loving, the warmth that courses through him is so achingly familiar that he wonders if maybe this is all he’s ever known—Davey’s hands and Davey’s eyes and Davey’s mouth against his in the dark.

Jack thinks he will burst from it, sometimes. Like remembering will split open his seams and all the love will come spilling out of his chest at once. So it surprises him when Davey is the first to say it.

“We’ve done this before, haven’t we,” he says, quiet, a little desperate, their mouths already close enough that Jack would hardly have to move to bridge the distance. It’s not a question, really, and suddenly he is overwhelmed with the knowledge that Davey remembers too.

Jack finds Davey’s hands on his waist, where he’s tracing the scar on Jack’s hip, and laces their fingers together. “Seems like,” he breathes. Davey exhales with him, their lungs moving in time with each other. “I think we’s known each other a long time.”

“Do you think it’s always been like this?” Davey asks, and Jack wonders. Wonders if there was ever a time when things were different, when they were made for something more than dark corners and stolen kisses. Wonders if they’ll ever be able to love with the sun on their faces.

“I dunno,” Jack says, truthful, searches for Davey’s eyes in the dark and finds them already latched on his. “I hope we always found each other, though.”

When Davey kisses him this time, it’s soft and reverent, something like a prayer or maybe Jack’s name on his lips. “Me too,” he says quietly, and Jack is breathless. “I don’t know what I’d do if we didn’t.” -

iv. 1942

This town might’ve been beautiful, once.

Davey thinks, if he closes his eyes, he can picture the way it was before the bombs fell—bright colors and curving archways and laughter in the streets. Most everything is rubble now. They’re hidden behind the ruins of what used to be a church, the stone cracked and dirty beneath their feet, and it feels like this is where the world has ended. Like the sky fell, right here, and now they’re standing at the site of the apocalypse.

In the deathly silence, Jack reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together. Davey’s thumb traces the curve of his wrist, seeking his pulse, and finds it beating there, strong and fast. It’s enough to ground him. Enough to remind him that they’re still alive.

There’s a cruel sort of irony in the fact that the middle of a war zone is the only place they can be like this, open palmed, their affection splayed out in front of them. The only others who have been with them since the dust settled are Kit and Race, who are maybe the only people besides Jack that Davey trusts here. When Race had discovered them for the first time, he’d just grinned and told them he was happy they’d found each other. Kit had pulled his cap low over his auburn curls and said vaguely, “We all have secrets,” and left it at that. Like there was nothing more to be said.

Davey is sort of selfishly relieved that it’s the four of them together at the end of it, if it has to end at all.

He can’t see any other way out of this. It’s hard to know how long they’ve been holding their breath, but they can’t do this forever; sooner or later one of the German soldiers who have taken hold of the city will find the shallow crevice in the wall where they’re hidden, and then it will all at once be over. Their lives extinguished with as much fanfare as a match plunged into snow.

“What are we going to do?” Race says desperately, voice barely above an exhale. “We can’t die like this.”

“We’re not gonna.” Jack’s eyes are moving. Davey follows them, watches them dart across rubble and crumpling buildings to finally land upon a break in the formation of guards that lines the stone wall across from the church. Beyond it is woods—cover—but in between the four of them and the opening are half a dozen or so soldiers. Jack nods towards it anyway. “There’s our out.”

Kit shakes his head. “We’ll never make it. They’ll be on us before we’re halfway across.”

“Not if someone draws their fire.”

Davey’s stomach bottoms out. Jack is already slinging his gun into his hands, mouth fixated in this sharp, determined line, ignoring Kit’s quiet hiss of, “Jack, no.” It’s clear what’s running through his head and Davey can’t, won’t let it happen, not after everything—he seizes Jack’s collar and pushes him back against the wall.

“Jeez, Davey, I was gonna kiss you goodbye—” Jack starts, half-laughing under his breath, and Davey doesn’t let him finish.

“Don’t,” he spits, surprising himself as much as Jack with the venom in his voice. “Don’t be an idiot, Kelly, you can’t—I’m not gonna let you do this. We all get out together or none of us do.”

Jack puts his hands over Davey’s, astonishingly gentle in sharp contrast to the hard, flinty look in his eyes. It’s only then that Davey realizes he’s shaking. “There’s not a lot of options here, sweetheart,” he says, and his lips around the pet name are loving and soft instead of teasing and Davey’s heart stammers despite it all. “You’s got a family, ‘n I told you I’d get you home to them—”

“You’re my family too,” Davey breathes. “I can’t lose you.”

And then Jack kisses him, fervent, and the air between them is suddenly this searing, volatile thing. Davey knots his fingers in Jack’s uniform, tastes smoke and sweat and a boy he’s loved for a lifetime and longer. He thinks, I love him and we found each other and please, god, don’t let this be it, and then it is over and Jack is crying. Davey is, too, but he’s only aware of this when Jack brushes his thumbs under his eyes and presses their foreheads together.

“I love you, Davey,” he says, with a smile filled with heartbreak. “And I promise you, I’ll find you again.”

And then suddenly Davey is the one shoved against the wall and Jack is running, and Davey watches Race make a desperate grab for his arm and miss, watches Jack barrel blindly into open air. Kit’s hand is over his mouth before the scream rips from his throat. He claws at it wildly, animalistic as Kit drags him towards the cracked stone wall and his ears ring with the sound of gunfire. He feels half-drowned and burning, the earth crumbling under his feet, the sky caving in above him.

“Jack, Jack—” he’s still saying when Kit lets him go on the other side, his voice high and empty and already doomed.

“I know,” Kit hushes him, tears cutting tracks in the dirt on his face. Race clutches his cap against his chest with white knuckles. “David, I know. We have to keep moving.”

He thinks he will shatter if he tries. “Jack,” Davey chokes out once more, like it’ll save him, and then the shots cease and everything ends at once. -

v. 2020

Drawing the boy from his dreams is muscle memory, by now.

Jack thinks he could do it with his eyes screwed shut, that even blind, his hands would know the straight line of the boy’s nose, the curve of his mouth, the softness behind his eyes. There’s not a name to go with the face, just the sound of a laugh and a feeling—a taste like honey and sunlight and home. A weight in his chest like he’s missing something.

Kath teases him relentlessly for being in love with someone that he’s never met. In the end, though, she’s the one who compiles the drawings in a portfolio and lands him a university scholarship, and in doing so she’s the one to start it all.

The campus seems to exist separately from everything else, tucked away in a bright little corner of the city. It’s greener here than anywhere that Jack has ever been. Everything is vivid, painted with watercolors, and he loves it instantly, thinks this is the kind of place for new beginnings. Where he can shed the heavy coat of all the things he’s collected through his life and start again.

Everything changes like this: he’s caught up in staring at the mural on the side of a nearby building, and the boy two paces in front of him is lost in a book, and neither of them know what’s about to happen. Neither of them know that in just moments, the world will pause for a breath and there will be this great crescendo in the music and nothing will ever be the same again—not, at least, until they collide.

It’s fate and it’s destiny and it’s a mess of Jack’s art supplies scattered on the sidewalk. A combination of swear words and apologies tumble from both their mouths as they bend down to shove everything back into the case, and then the boy hands him a tube of paint the color of the sea and Jack looks up and his breath catches in his throat.

“Jack?”

“It’s you,” he says, and that’s all that it takes, really.

Davey half-tackles him into the grass and Jack is laughing and sure that he’s only just learned how to breathe. Like he’s gone his whole life without oxygen and is tasting it now, suddenly, in the smell of Davey’s detergent and the sound of his voice and the feeling of Davey’s hands in his hair.

Everything comes rushing back.

“Is this real? Are you real?” Davey demands, his eyes shining.

“I’m here, Davey.” He lifts a hand to cup Davey’s jaw. “I’m real.”

Davey gives this strangled sort of noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You found me,” he says, and then he smiles, and Jack can’t help but think that his drawings could never do this justice. The boy in front of him is bright and holy and wonderfully, wonderfully present, his eyes the kind of color that all the paints in the world couldn’t capture.

Jack grins up at him, feeling warmth take over his chest and run down to the tips of his fingers. “I keep my promises,” he says, and Davey is still laughing when he kisses him.

And if Jack has spent his whole life yearning, it was worth it. Centuries of light burst behind his eyes, and there’s a whole future laid out in front of them—this is not the one where they’ll be left bruised and battered by streets or by war, no—this life will be kinder to them. Softer.

August sunlight bathes them in gold, and they’ve found each other. They’ve loved and lost but now they’re here, together, with their hands intertwined again—and oh, this time, they won’t ever let go.

[h-e-l-l-b-r-o-k-e]

State of Mind [B.H. x you]

Request: @lemonypink​

Inspiration: Rock Me by Great White

Word Count: 2253 Warnings: profanity.

Written Date: 12/27/19-1/1/20 Posted Date: 1/1/2020

[MASTERLIST]

Dating Billy was like dating one of the many attractive rockstars plastered on the pale walls of your bedroom, except only with slightly less screeching girls and more bloody knuckles. Billy hated when other men, many who are older, would try to propose to you some sort of midnight deal involving money and their hotel rooms and you hated when girls would reach up and twirl bits of his hair or rub the lapels of his jean jacket with their fingers every time you left to get more booze or for a quick bathroom break. 

This was the Sunset Strip, Hollywood’s most popular spot for metal musicians and whores with fishnets that run up the expanse of their thighs, and it was a dangerous combo when the two of you were thrown into the mix. Yet, it was a drug that provided cheap thrills, and you and Billy were just teenagers without a whole lot of money lining your pockets. This was your amusement park. This was where parts of your D.N.A laid to rest. Billy’s too.

They say one loses fifty to about a hundred strands a day and you cannot imagine any other area in Los Angeles, other than your home, that’s collected all 54,750 of your fallen hair since the age of fifteen. No other area’s collected your fingerprints as much or your littered cigarettes. No other venue outside of the Whisky A Go-Go have you and Billy carried out most of your sloppy quickies in the public restroom—usually because Billy dragged you after a guitarist or singer couldn’t keep their eyes off you.

Billy’s jealousy has gotten you guys into more trouble than sometimes it’s worth. You’ve gotten kicked out of clubs for smashing beer bottles against the wall just centimeters away from his target, a musician’s most precious asset—his pouty face. You were surprised that you could count all scuffles Billy’s gotten himself into with band members, some from bands you actually enjoyed watching, on one hand.

You still haven’t forgiven him for banning the two of you from ever attending an L.A. Guns gig again.

“This place blows.” Billy slams his glass on the counter in a huff and the bartender gives him a pointed look before shaking his head to himself.

His attitude tonight was wearing down your placid features faster than a clock counted minutes. And, he’s hardly glanced in your direction to at least make it easier for you to hear him among all the other noise that penetrated your ear drums. 

He slid off the stool and doesn’t apologize when his shoulder shoved into your chin. Sometimes you swore you could wrap your hands around his throat and strangle him.

All the trouble with security and other patrons you both been in hadn’t just been because of his loose tongue and quick fists. No, you were pretty sure you’ve been in more altercations that involved a split lip or black eye than he had. There were too many bimbos that rubbed you the wrong way and too many guys who thought they had a free pass to grope you just because you sometimes wore mini skirts and low-cut tops.

You knew Billy’s itching mood meant you had to turn down alcohol and provide the role of babysitter because if you didn’t, he’d do something that even he’d regret. But, you’ve never been one with much patience. It’s why you hardly knew the three-year-old stranger who lived under your parents’ roof and called you “sissy” in passing. You didn’t feel all that bad for the cold shoulder she often received, your mother and step-father provided plenty of warmth. They preferred her over you anyway.

“Wait up, jerk!” You called after your boyfriend, though he didn’t slow down. You weren’t doubtful that it was due to him ignoring you over simply just not hearing you.

The effort in teasing your hair and painting your face to near perfection had gone to waste so far, but you didn’t mind. The ever prideful girl in a leather skirt and jean jacket, though that alone couldn’t define you.

The bartender’s glare was glued to you, waiting for the payment of Billy’s whiskey glasses. You searched through your pockets, only finding a couple loose bills and some change of mostly pennies you knew wasn’t not nearly enough to cover the tap. You set it on the counter and chased after Billy’s direction before you could be flagged. Luckily some drunk was hassling the bartender for another serving and you caught the wisps of Billy’s dirty-blond locks leaving through the back exit.

Barging through the door, you found Billy already sucking on a Marlboro—your Marlboro.

You marched through the dirty alley. “Hey, stupid, I could’ve gotten arrested back there! I haven’t any money on me you know!” Just inches away from him, you continued, “He knows my freakin’ face.”

“Tough luck.” The smoke harbored in his mouth was blown into your face. 

You swiped at him, knocking his, well, your cigarette on the ground. “I’m so sick of your pointless attitude, Billy. Grow up!”

With a flared nose, Billy scoffed, “Everything’s fuckin’ pointless, babe. Don’t you get it?” The point of his burning finger touched the chilled skin of your chest, pushing you. “You’re pointless.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you don’t mean that.” Focusing on the golden pendant that’s hung around his neck, you could feel the suffocating heat of his blue irises. “Two years can’t just go by and not mean anything,” you mumbled. 

“Yeah? Well, it did!” A bit of his spit landed on your cheek as he puffed a breath down your face. 

You knew this act almost too well. Billy may be the biggest asshole who ever lived, though you knew you stood in a place well below a pedestal to look down upon him, but whenever this sudden bout of anger was directed at you, you knew it was displaced. Billy had a fishermen’s nest worth of loathing in the pit of his stomach, directed at his father and things that couldn’t be undone from the past. 

You’ve spent about 730 days together so far. You weren’t just some cheap date nor an easy lay. Billy’s shown you too much—given you more—to be able to take it back straight out of the blue. Damaged goods. That’s what the two of you were, and he found comfort in the thought that he wasn’t alone.

But, even when your brain knew better, your heart found it difficult to differentiate truth from impulse. And right now, the beating beneath your breast bone was thumping a very low, and foreboding note.

You tongued at the rim of your upper back molar, a nervous habit since preschool, before stating, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Just get out of here!” Billy pointed at the dark street as if you hadn’t rode here as his passenger for the millionth time. “Find your own way home.”

“The hell I’m not,” you ground between your teeth. Your palms met his chest a couple times before he snatched your wrists. 

But, when you glanced up at him, his face was turned into the deeper end of the alleyway. It’s almost too dark to see, but when you squinted you made out the shape of a figure, presumably a guy. And upon closer inspection, you noticed he was about your age. Maybe younger if going by the pudginess of his cheeks. You’d never seen him around before.

“Hey, asshole, what are you staring at?!” Billy’s voice rang in your ear like the beating of heavy church bells, or worse, thunder.

The lone boy looked stuck in a crossfire, and immediately you knew he was in fact younger by a few years based on the softness of his eyes despite the glow of a cigarette between two fingers. Hell, even at fourteen you’d been smoking for at least a year. 

His knee jittered, ready to bounce if Billy proved too big of a menace, but he stood at a dead end. He had no where to go. 

“Billy,” you warned, but Billy had already succumbed to the role of a predator. Tense muscle pulled out of your grasp as he stalked towards the wide-eyed deer. “Billy!”

“That’s it! I’m outta here!” But, this was what he wanted. If he couldn’t shoo you away like a pigeon picking at crumbs on a sidewalk, he’d ignore you like a lone cat skittering in the neighborhood. 

Making up your mind about hailing a cab and then raiding your step-father’s study to pay for the ride, you’re about to reach the sidewalk when suddenly your blood ran cold. You could recognize the clinking of the sheathing of a pocketknife, you’ve carried the same one you found just hours before the first day of fourth grade on you since. Right now, it fit snug inside your leather boot and it bumped against your ankle with every step. 

Which meant Billy somehow hadn’t slipped your knife in his pocket. 

Yelping, Billy fell against the bricks and slid down until he reached the littered ground of smokes and shards of glass. The boy had already been running away by the time you’d turned to watch, shoving past you with sweat beads above his brow. Some of the glint of the metal in his hand was obstructed by a thick, red consistency and the steady thumping in your chest stuttered.

Running after the boy was a lost cause, especially since the streets tended to be busier at night than in the daylight. Yet, by the time you knelt beside your fallen boyfriend, his breath released in puffs and the tear of his white T-shirt across his abdomen contained stained blots. The skin beneath raw and wet, but not deep at all. 

“Oh, thank God,” the breath swooshed out of your lungs, “It’s just a nick, Billy.”

“Fuck,” he chuckled as he inspected the cut. “Way to go world, just kick me when I’m already down!” 

Your shaped eyebrows knitted together. “Jesus, have you gone mad? You just got shanked and you’re laughing?!” Your hand hovered just inches away from his wound. “What should we do?”

While you’d been too worried, the pads of his fingers grazed the slice. He winced. “Tonight, I was supposed to be some pissy prick, not escape death from the hands of some scrawny freak.” 

“Does—Does it hurt?!”

“It’s not that bad, actually.” Yet, he grunted, “Little fucker,” under his breath as he got to his feet. You followed his lead, still shaken. “It just stings mostly. I’m more worried about the questions someone might ask when they see this,” he gestured to the gash of his ruined shirt, ”but we gotta clean it, babe.” 

“We?” Arms crossed beneath your chest, you remembered the things he’d said just moments ago. “Don’t pretend you didn’t just tell me that I’m pointless! Clean it yourself.”

“Hey. Hey,” Billy reached for your arms, gently uncrossing them until your hands were enveloped in his. Somehow even when it was just above fifty degrees, Billy’s body was a furnace that radiated heat. You think it was the anger he could never quite let go of. “I didn’t mean any of it.” 

You sheepishly glanced towards the side with puckered lips before you spoke. “You sure you didn’t mean it?”

“Never mean it.” He kissed at your hairline before pulling away.

“Then, why were you being so mean?” you questioned him, still a little insulted.

He sighed and brought you into his side, almost forgetting about the tenderness of his stomach but your were mindful. You knew this trick of his, tucking your head under his chin to hide the plain emotions he failed to bar behind a careless façade.  

“Because of my dad… He—uh,“ his adam’s apple bobbed against your temple. “We’re leaving. He’s moving us to Indiana.”

Just when you thought tonight couldn’t get any worse, Billy dropped a bomb on your head. 

A/N: You wanted chaotic and I couldn’t think of a more perfect place than 80’s Sunset Strip. Sorry it’s not 100% what you wanted, the story just seemed to go in this direction.