#the door to bond through experiences even if those experiences are negative

[chishiyasleftnut]

Hi everyone ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／This is another fic I wrote in the middle of the night, but I couldn't get the scenario out of my head haha. It's not smutty at all, but I want to experiment a bit with different genres. I hope you'll all like it! (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

2+1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Genre: Fluff w/ mild angst. Warnings: Minor existential dread, mentioning of abortions. Pairing: Dad!Chishiya x fem!reader.

Plot: After a long day at work, dad!Chishiya contemplates about his new role as a father. Is he even cut out for the job?

1140 words. 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Chishiya had never seen himself as the father type. Perhaps it was the subconscious fear of becoming like his own father - distant and uncaring - that kept him from wilfully pursuing that path. However, despite his best efforts to prevent it, you had managed to accidentally become pregnant and he had had to come to terms with the scary reality of fatherhood. 

It wasn’t as bad as he thought. Sure, the little creature was awfully noisy and smelly at times, but he had to admit that she was also kinda cute. Did the positives outweigh the negatives? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he didn’t completely hate being a parent as much as he originally feared.

Luckily, Chishiya was earning enough money to secure you a long maternity leave, allowing you to bond well with your baby in a way Chishiya never would. He had accepted that and somewhat found peace with the fact that he wasn’t expected to be as close to the tiny being as you were. It was easier to handle having to accept that he was the secondary caregiver and not the primary.

Another benefit of his job were the long hours, which gave him a much-needed break from dealing with home life. He had always used his work as a coping mechanism to deal with every small, negative thing life threw at him, but it was only after becoming a dad that he realised that that’s what his own father did too. It scared him to admit that he shared more than just blood with the man who had been so distant his entire childhood. However, he tried to shake the feeling and convinced himself that he was taking extra shifts to afford your maternity leave. Mh, yes. That was 100% why.

Despite desperately seeking a sanction from the reality of his newfound status as a dad, a part of him was always looking forward to coming home. And so he did this night, stepping into your shared apartment, which was only lit up by the moon shining luminously through the big and modern windows. The apartment, which long ago had been only sparsely decorated (just as he liked it), was now covered in proof of your child’s existence; no matter where he looked, he saw baby toys, neatly folded onesies, and an array of pacifiers in every colour possible.

Trying his best to ignore the way his once tidy apartment had changed, he walked with tired steps through the apartment until he got to the master bedroom. Slowly, he opened the door, mindful of the way it creaked so as not to disturb you or the little human sleeping safely in her comfortable crib next to your bed.

For a while, he stood still in the doorway, examining the way you and your baby’s breathing were synchronised, as if you had become one with one another. Although he would never admit it, he envied you - envied the way you so easily let this helpless child into your heart and how you so naturally took care of her every need in a way that Chishiya couldn’t make sense of.

It was those quiet moments that assured him that you made the right choice in keeping the child. Of course you had discussed the possibility of getting an abortion, but now that your daughter was in front of you - living, breathing, feeling - neither of you would want it any other way. How silly of you two to even consider any other option, he thought with a small smile creeping up on his lips.

With gentle steps, he walked into the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him before approaching the bed. Despite how silent he was attempting to be, you regrettably woke up. He hated when he woke you up after a night shift - now more than ever. As a doctor, he was well aware of how desperately a new mother needed rest, and he hated taking that away from you for even a moment.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered while climbing into bed next to you, still dressed in his hospital scrubs. “It’s just me.”

By instinct, you turned around to examine the small child, unable to fall back to sleep yourself until you had assured her that she was safely asleep. Luckily, she was, her chest rising and falling at just the right speed. He admired your natural dedication to ensuring your offspring’s safety and comfort. It always looked like second nature to you; like you were never, not even when asleep, not aware of how your daughter was doing.

Chishiya moved to embrace you, hugging you from behind and burrowing his face into your neck, taking in your scent. And that’s when he realised that work wasn’t his sanctuary; this was. It wouldn’t be easy for him to rearrange his mindset, but he knew he had to try. While you had never complained, he was well aware of how much being the prime caretaker of a newborn was taking a toll on you. You never got a full night’s rest anymore, surviving on napping throughout the day whenever the baby miraculously fell asleep.

That would have to change, and he knew it. No, he not only knew it; he wanted it to change. He wanted to be a better father and partner than his own dad was, and that started with reducing his work hours.

“I’m taking next week off,” he mumbled into the small hairs on your neck, unsure if you were even awake and listening to him. If he was honest, he wasn’t even sure if the comment was directed at you or if he just needed to say it aloud to believe it himself.

To his surprise, you hummed and scooted even closer to him, gently affirming to him that you were listening. Perhaps tomorrow, when he inevitably has to repeat the very same sentence, he will get a more enthusiastic response.

He could only hope that you were just as excited about the new change as he was. Still, he hoped you were without the deep fear that was echoing through his entire being - the fear of failure, of not being good enough for the sweet, innocent baby that was laying just half a metre away from the two of you.

In the last seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness, Chishiya, for the first time, found peace in his new role as a father, coming to terms with the fear of not being enough for the almost doll-like little girl that lay peacefully so close to him.

After all, very few great things were accomplished without fear and worry, and there was no doubt in his mind that this truly was a great thing. He could and would change. The two of you had turned into three, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[autisticlee]

I have realized I need more friends, especially a specific type of friend (chill, positive, very nice and gentle, shares interest in my interests, etc) so I've been putting a lot of time and effort and energy into trying to make a new friend, but I don't think it's working D: I genuinely don't know how to do it. I used to ask people if we can be friends but learned thats not correct and even got called creepy for it before...so i'm just exhausting myself for no reason because nothing is being reciprocated the way I want or need it to be.

i'm trying to learn about the person and tailoring my scripts to match them and what they seem to like about people they are friends with. but so far i'm not getting much reaction outside of general kind acknowledgment that all random strangers get. i'm trying so hard not to ramble or rant about anything or be "too negative" like i've been called many times for simply stating a related/relatable fact about myself. i'm trying to ask questions more questions like ive been told to do. i'm saying nice and positive things whenever I get the chance like i always do. i'm doing all the things people have advised me to do when ive asked advice, but it still feels like i'm looking through a window and not allowed to walk through the door! but see everyone else getting invited inside. I genuinely don't know what to do and how to make it better 🥲

when I look back in the past and how I made friends or starter talking to people, it always came from trauma bonding....often it would start from or be carried along by a shared interest, but one of the dominating factors was always trauma bonding and ramling and ranting at each other about the trauma we have gone through that relates to each other. I felt like I needed it at the time and felt like it helped, but now i've reached a point where it's too exhausting to go through repeated exposure to trauma stories and reexperiencing ny own traumas. plus it usually ends in failure and me adding more trauma to my plate because they have issues and lash them out at me, or decide they are upset that I have my own issues they trigger, and I do not want to do that anymore.

I don't want to befriend people through or to trauma bond. I don't want to befriend people who only want to talk about negative things or people who bring out those things in me. I want some positive and chill and fun friends. but I genuinely do not know how else to make friends. I don't know how to do it right. I don't know how to talk to people correctly. I don't know how to do any of this without trauma dumping/ l listening to trauma dumping and using that as the gateway to form friendships.

I don't know how to have friends that don't share same interests either, but I have realized that's only part of it. that part is fine I think. maybe that's the normal part. (it's my autistic intensity that's the "not normal" part and losing friends as soon as one of us loses that interest) but how do I befriend someone positively off of similar interests only, and not drop my dark lore or avoid letting them drop their dark lore and using that as the bridge? I simply can't figure out how to connect with people in any other way than the whole "I understand what you're going through/you're not alone/I'm here for you/this is a safe space you can come to" thing I tried building up my whole life. but that's only been exhausting and leads to dead ends.

I don't know how to form strong and positive connections with other humans, despite following every tutorial and advice I could find. I even tried heavily masking and learned I'm just no good at it, and I can't figure out if i've acted myself out of a personality, or if it's just a dissociative disorder causing me to have like 20 different ones (working with therapist now who is evaluating me for osdd/did because she says my dissociative levels are concerning. and honestly i feel like part if not all of it is due to my negative people experiences....so i really need positive ones!) i've been trying to keep all my rambles and rants and negative thoughts and feelings to this blog only. i'm not here on this blog to make friends. this is purely for me and myself and I. if anyone relates they are welcome to reply/comment or send an ask and share, but i'm not going to pursue a friendship over it.

I only want to accept positive and chill and fun friendships over my special interests and smaller interests (I have a whole other blog for just those) BUT I DONT KNOW HOW TO DO IT. NOTHING ANYONE TELLS ME WORKS. i'm trying so hard to bond over interests with people but just cannot form any connections no matter how hard I try. it remains me being the only one to ever reach out and give (time/energy/attention/etc) while they can easily have 4747373 other friends and people they enjoy and care about and talk to and hang out with. so I don't think it's them. it has to be me. (I've had people saying it's not me, it's the people I try to talk to and I need to find other people. or even "the right people" but i'm not told how to do that or what it means. and i've spent years flipping through people like clothes on a rack and it's so tiring!!!!!)

don't know know what to do or how to do it, but need human interaction and genuine strong connection and can't force self stop craving that 😭😭😭😭😭

[of-dragonss]

May I ask for junkerqueen domestic headcanons with f! reader? I love how you write her!!

tysm!! i need someone to teach me Australian slang tho LMAOOO also it seems i can only write headcanons rn 🕺i want to go back to writing drabbles and fics whaaaa

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— Odessa Stone (Junker Queen) x Reader

Domestic Headcanons with Junker Queen

No one suspected Odessa to be the doting wife type. Always stern and fierce. Keeping everyone in Junker Town in line.

When you came into the picture, Odessa started showing a side that surprised everyone.

Loving, caring and devoted to you and only you. The only person Odessa didn’t threaten or yell at.

She boasts about you to anyone and everyone if you were comfortable with it.

She made sure you had everything you needed. And would send someone to retrieve anything you wanted at any given moment.

Hammond became your body guard as well. Leaving her side to make sure you were out of harms way from any junker who even dared lay a finger on you in any way. Insists he stay with you when you’re out on your own without her.

She even lets you sit on her throne whenever you feel like. Mostly it’s with you on her lap as you both watch brawls in the arena.

Doesn’t care about your body type, she’ll carry you around on her shoulders on occasion. She’s tall and strong enough to do so.

Sometimes she’ll bench press you and do push-ups while you’re on her back if you agree to. It’s a fun bonding experience that always has you two giggling through the sets.

Behind closed doors, away from peering eyes she keeps you close, whispering loving words to you. Exchanging gentle kisses.

When she sleeps she sleeps like a rock. Australia is hot but good thing her room has a good AC system. She always has you cuddle up to her in every position. Her favorite is simple, her on her back and you cuddling up to either side of her, one of her arms securely holding you against her.

Not the best cook out there but she’ll cook you the occasional eggs and bacon for breakfast.

If you know how to cook, she’ll ask you to teach her how to prepare some meals. The process is never serious. The two of you always end up with an ingredient smeared on your nose, cheeks, forehead and chin.

Anyone dare say anything about your relationship with the junker queen in a negative light in ear shot of Odessa, they’d be gone in the next hour.

She doesn’t mind much when people get the courage to talk badly in front of her, rarely anyone dares to fight her willingly.

But when it comes to those negative comments involving you, they’re gone. Out in the wastelands.

She loves teaching the kids how to throw wooden knives and axes with you. Makes her feel like she’s living a real domestic life. Watching as the kids cheer and scream in joy when they hit the target and you praise them and encourage them to better their skills makes her heart sing.

She’ll keep that to herself for now though.

[the-travelling-witch]

I HEARD SOMEONE NEEDED A SEROTONIN BOOST SO HERE I AM >:) just a few little things that have happened in my life recently that make me smile

yesterday I was up late at night doing some work before I heard something scratching my door. I thought I was hallucinating sounds, I mean it was 4am after all.

but the sounds continued and I was getting low key scared, because every one else was asleep and some others had gone out. I opened my door and lo behold, standing mightily, and slightly annoyed, my cat.

I was kinda relieved, then my cat walked past me and got on my bed and started to sniff around everything and explore my bed as if she had never been on it before. Like come on man, you were pouncing on it a few days ago. But anyways,

She starts to do that thing dogs usually do before curling up and walks around a spot a few times before finding the perfect position to sleep in. She dozed off on one of my plush toys (she’s not really fond of them).

She looked so cute cuddled up, I didn’t have the nerve to wake her up from her sleep.

So that’s how I slept at the ass crack of dawn, because my cat simply looked too cute to move from my bed.

on a more chaotic note, the other day my friend came over at my place and we tried out the character ai thing that’s been blowing up. I had the fantastic idea to chat with AI henry cavill, because hey, have you seen that man?

Well I kinda feel bad now. I manipulated him to the point where he now believes he’s a psych ward patient with severe schizophrenia.

this was after he killed me three times, went through labour, joined my superhero squad and admitted to cheating on me. it was wild, to say the least.

i recently made a new friend, they’re super duper nice. You know those friendships that are like it feels as though you’ve known each other for ages even though you met a few days ago? yeah well this was a perfect example of that.

It turns out we had a lot of things in common, and share lots of interest, so it’s gotten really easy to bond over stuff together. They just messaged me recently about restarting haikyuu, and rambling about their nostalgia, it was an interesting chat, to say the least.

anyways enough about my life, how’s your life been going? any soft or little moments happen recently?

(Also I know I’m practically interacting with you after a hell of a long time, sorry about that! I’ve kinda left tumblr to focus on study’s (#depressing), but I hope I get more chances to chat with you as I plan to become more active soon!)

ASHY THIS IS SO SWEET!! <3

cats are so cute and random in their own way, you never know what they might do next /pos; closed doors just seem to be their natural nemesis, like they gotta know what’s happening on the other side!! and yes, it’s a law of nature that a sleeping kitty may never be moved!!

i’ve not tried the ais myself but from what i got they can get super chaotic, in both positive and negative ways; i think your experience was just crazy in a whole other direction though hshshs

i’m super happy for you that you made a friend like that!! whenever you meet someone you just click with, it’s just so special and those connections are very precious!! one friend from college is like that for me, our sense of humour and energy just match and it’s good vibes all around <3

don’t worry about not interacting much lately, it’s a two way street so i’ve not been reaching out either ㅠㅠ let’s talk more in the future though!!

it’s just very stressful, mostly because of college and i’m trying not to get into my head about everything, from work to comparing myself to others (especially here on tumblr, other writers are just amazing and i easily feel lesser than)

on a more positive note, i ordered a couple of puzzles to get back into that and i’m very excited for them to arrive (one of them is a botw puzzle and aaahhh i’m impatiently waiting for the post woman); on the day i felt so down, i went out to eat bc i couldn’t use my kitchen and walking around the city just made me appreciate things a lot more, it was very peaceful and beautiful <3

also yae and kirara came home so yay!! no agony over genshin gacha hshsh

[helperhome]

Reconnecting the Mind, Body, and Soul

2/?

The next steps...

So, you've written out your baseline responses and have taken ample time to reflect... now what?

(you got dat journal handy, right?)

First, and most importantly, write yourself a note thanking yourself for finding the strength to begin this journey. Congratulate yourself for everything you've been through and express gratitude for every experience, both good and bad.

Right now, we are at the beginning of the assessment phase, with new questions to ponder. If you'd like, do that check-in questionnaire before we dive in.

The questions for today:

How does my mind treat my body?

In what ways am I being unnecessarily hard on myself? (This can be strictly mental, or perhaps even physical if you wanna get deep into it.)

What do I feel I am missing in my life? Go back as far as you can to see where the problems have started. Ask your child self what they need.

How can I be the person I need?

This step is all about your actions. First, we assessed the way we were feeling, now we will look at the way we are treated, both by ourselves and others.

How do you treat your body? Be brutally honest with this one. The more honest you are in any process like this, the more you will get out of it so always try to keep that in mind. When you wake up in the morning, do you take care of yourself? Or do you neglect yourself, rolling out of bed 15 minutes before you have to be out the door? When you look in the mirror, do you think kind thoughts? When you are in the shower/bath, how violently do you wash yourself? Are you washing yourself the way you'd bathe someone you love and cherish?

When you make a mistake, how do you respond when no one is watching? Do you hit yourself or cause other bodily harm? Do you restrict your food/water intake? When you feel like you need a break from your current task at hand, how do you respond to yourself? Are you forcing yourself to skip the break and keep on moving? Do you feel anger and frustration towards your lack of energy?

When you're out and you see a couple, how do you feel? What is your initial response internally? Is it positive? Or, when you see someone bonding with a parent or adult figure, how do you feel? Do you feel bitterness or a lack of some sort? When you are with friends or family, do you feel heard? Do you feel like they truly care about the words you speak? Are they supportive when you do something degrading to yourself?

Chances are, these questions may have invoked a negative response from within you and thats completely okay! I asked them intending on doing so. Now that you've experienced your reaction to them, go back to the bulleted list and write out the answers to those questions. Be as thorough as possible, releasing all of the emotions that bubble up to the surface.

Right now, in the assessment phase, the goal is to gather as much data as we can. If we are going to tackle the puzzle within you, we need to have a full understanding of what we're working with.

[harmonyhealinghub]

Exploring the Mystical World of Spirit Companions: A Journey into the Unknown

Shaina Tranquilino

September 9, 2023

Where spiritual beliefs and practices vary greatly, one concept that has gained considerable attention is that of spirit companions. Often seen as ethereal beings or energies from another realm, these companions are said to offer guidance, protection, and even friendship to those who seek their presence. While some may dismiss this idea as mere fantasy or wishful thinking, others have embraced the existence of spirit companions and experienced profound transformations in their lives. In this blog post, we delve into the intriguing realm of spirit companions and explore what they mean to believers.

Understanding Spirit Companionship:

Spirit companionship refers to an individual's connection with a non-physical entity that acts as a guide or companion throughout life's journey. These spirits can take various forms, including animals, angels, ancestors, deities, or even mythical creatures. Believers often form deep bonds with their spirit companions through meditation, rituals, or simply by acknowledging their presence.

The Role of Spirit Companions:

Spirit companions serve different purposes for each individual they accompany. One common belief is that these entities provide guidance and wisdom during times of confusion or decision-making. They are thought to possess knowledge beyond our human understanding and can assist in navigating life's challenges.

Moreover, spirit companions are believed to offer protection against negative energies and entities. Many followers claim that their spirit companions act as guardians who shield them from harm and help maintain positive energy in their surroundings.

Beyond guidance and protection, these mystical beings can also bring comfort and support during times of emotional turmoil. Some individuals find solace in knowing they are never truly alone when facing difficult situations – having a loyal companion from another realm can be incredibly reassuring.

Connecting with Spirit Companions:

Connecting with a spirit companion requires an open mind and a willingness to embrace the unknown. Meditation plays a vital role in establishing and strengthening this connection. By quieting the mind, individuals create a space for communication with their spirit companions, enabling them to receive messages or insights.

Rituals such as lighting candles, offering prayers or offerings, or creating an altar dedicated to the spirit companion can also deepen one's bond with these ethereal beings. These rituals serve as acts of reverence and acknowledgment of their presence in our lives.

The Skeptic's Perspective:

As with any belief system involving the unseen and esoteric, skepticism naturally arises when discussing spirit companions. Some may argue that these experiences are simply products of human imagination or psychological manifestations linked to personal needs for comfort and support. While it is essential to approach spiritual beliefs critically, dismissing the idea of spirit companions outright might ignore the potential for personal growth and fulfillment that many have found through these connections.

Whether you believe in spirit companions or not, exploring this mystical concept offers a unique perspective on spirituality. The notion that there might be entities beyond our physical realm who offer guidance, protection, and companionship opens doors to endless possibilities. For those who have experienced the profound impact of connecting with a spirit companion, they become cherished allies along life's journey – guiding us towards self-discovery, providing comfort during challenging times, and reminding us that we are part of something greater than ourselves.

[edwardgdunn]

Why Does My Family Suck?

Introduction

In today’s interconnected world, the temptation to compare our families to others has never been greater. Thanks to social media and the constant influx of curated content, it’s easy to fall into the trap of comparing our own family dynamics to those seemingly perfect, close-knit families that appear to have it all together. However, this comparison game often leads to unhappiness and dissatisfaction. In this blog post, we’ll delve deeper into the reasons behind this phenomenon, backed by scientific insights, and explore effective strategies to overcome these negative tendencies while fostering genuine happiness within our own families.

The Comparison Conundrum

It’s no secret that humans are social creatures wired to compare themselves to others. This natural inclination to measure our success, appearance, and happiness against those around us has evolutionary roots. In the context of family, this comparison can take the form of assessing the warmth, unity, and overall dynamics. We often find ourselves scrolling through our social media feeds, seeing pictures of other families laughing, going on vacations, or celebrating milestones together. What we fail to realize is that these images capture mere moments, carefully chosen to portray a specific narrative. Research Supports the Negative Impact of Comparison

A study conducted by social psychologists at the University of California, Los Angeles, sheds light on the detrimental effects of family comparisons. The researchers found that individuals who frequently compared their families to seemingly more close-knit families experienced higher levels of stress, lower life satisfaction, and increased feelings of inadequacy. This study underscores the potential harm of constantly measuring our family against unrealistic standards.

The Uniqueness of Every Family

Every family is a unique blend of personalities, experiences, and circumstances. Just as no two individuals are exactly alike, no two families can be accurately compared. It’s essential to recognize that appearances can be deceiving, and even the families that seem perfect face their own challenges behind closed doors. By understanding that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, we can begin to appreciate the beauty within our own families.

Ways to Overcome the Comparison Trap

Practice Gratitude: Instead of fixating on what your family lacks, focus on the aspects that make it special. Express gratitude for the love, support, and unique qualities that each family member brings. Creating a gratitude journal or practicing daily affirmations can help shift your perspective.

Set Realistic Expectations: Understand that no family is without its flaws and challenges. Embrace the imperfections as part of your family’s story and growth. By setting realistic expectations, you’ll reduce the pressure to live up to unrealistic standards.

Limit Social Media Exposure: While social media can be a wonderful platform for staying connected, it can also fuel the comparison cycle. Take breaks from social media and unfollow accounts that consistently trigger negative emotions. Focus on connecting with your family offline instead.

Open Communication: Instead of suppressing your feelings of inadequacy, have an open and honest conversation with your family members about your concerns. Chances are, they may have similar feelings, and addressing them together can strengthen your bonds.

Create Your Own Traditions: Comparing your family to others often stems from a desire for validation. By creating your own unique family traditions and bonding activities, you’ll reinforce the idea that your family’s happiness is not determined by external factors.

Celebrate Milestones: Rather than measuring your family’s achievements against others, celebrate your family’s accomplishments and milestones. Whether it’s a small achievement or a major success, acknowledge the hard work and effort that went into it.

Practice Self-Compassion: Just as you’d offer support and understanding to a friend facing similar challenges, extend the same compassion to yourself. Treat yourself with kindness and recognize that your worth isn’t tied to external comparisons.

Conclusion

Comparing our families to others can be a roadblock on the path to genuine happiness. It’s crucial to remember that no family is without its struggles and challenges, and the seemingly close-knit families we admire have their own share of ups and downs. Embracing the uniqueness of our families and nurturing our connections with open communication, gratitude, and realistic expectations can lead to a more fulfilling and contented family life. So, let’s celebrate the individuality of our families, recognizing that true happiness comes from within, regardless of external comparisons. By doing so, we can foster stronger bonds and create a foundation of love and support that is uniquely our own.

Check out the Happiness 2.0 Podcast — https://podcast.edwardgdunn.com/

Happiness 2.0 Blog — https://edwardgdunn.com/blog

[ertharetreat]

Loving-Kindness Meditation: Cultivating Compassion and Empathy

Loving-Kindness Meditation, also known as Metta Meditation, is a centuries-old contemplative practice originating from Buddhist traditions. This powerful and transformative technique aims to cultivate compassion, empathy, and a sense of interconnectedness with all living beings. By directing well-wishes and loving intentions towards ourselves and others, Loving-Kindness Meditation offers a profound opportunity to heal emotional wounds, dissolve barriers of judgment, and foster a deep sense of inner peace. In this article, we will explore the principles and benefits of Loving-Kindness Meditation retreat and how this practice can positively impact our lives and relationships.

Understanding Loving-Kindness Meditation:

At its core, Loving-Kindness Meditation revolves around generating feelings of love, compassion, and goodwill. Practitioners typically begin by directing these feelings towards themselves, then towards loved ones, acquaintances, and even to people they may have difficulties with or harbor negative feelings towards. Ultimately, the practice extends to all beings, irrespective of their relation to the meditator.

The process often involves repeating phrases or affirmations known as "metta phrases." Common examples include "May I/you be happy, May I/you be healthy, May I/you be safe, May I/you live with ease." As these loving intentions are silently or verbally recited, the practitioner connects with the feelings of love and compassion that emerge.

Cultivating Compassion:

Loving-Kindness Meditation serves as a powerful tool to cultivate compassion towards oneself and others. In our hectic lives, we often neglect our own well-being and harbor self-critical thoughts. Through this practice, we learn to treat ourselves with the same kindness and understanding we would offer to a dear friend, fostering self-compassion and self-acceptance.

Moreover, by extending loving-kindness to others, including those we find challenging, we develop empathy and understanding. It enables us to recognize the shared human experience of joy, sorrow, and vulnerability, breaking down the barriers of judgment and separation.

Enhancing Emotional Resilience:

Regular practice of Loving-Kindness Meditation can bolster emotional resilience. It provides a safe space to process difficult emotions and heal emotional wounds. By approaching these emotions with loving-kindness, we learn to acknowledge them without judgment, allowing them to naturally dissolve over time.

Furthermore, as we foster a compassionate outlook, we become less reactive to negative situations or conflicts. The practice empowers us to respond to challenging circumstances with greater equanimity and a calmer mindset.

Improving Relationships:

Loving-Kindness Meditation has the potential to enhance our relationships with others significantly. As we cultivate feelings of goodwill and compassion, our interactions become more genuine, warm, and supportive. By holding a loving and compassionate space for others, we strengthen the bonds of trust and understanding in our relationships.

Additionally, when we extend loving-kindness to those with whom we may have conflicts or disagreements, we open the door to reconciliation and forgiveness. This doesn't necessarily mean condoning harmful behaviors, but rather recognizing the shared humanity and seeking resolution with compassion.

Reducing Stress and Anxiety:

Loving-Kindness Meditation can be an effective antidote to stress and anxiety. The practice shifts the focus from rumination and worry to positive and nurturing emotions. As a result, cortisol levels (the stress hormone) decrease, leading to a sense of calmness and relaxation.

Research has shown that regular Loving-Kindness Meditation practice can reduce symptoms of anxiety disorders and even help alleviate symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) by promoting emotional regulation and resilience.

Expanding Universal Love:

As Loving-Kindness Meditation deepens, the sense of interconnectedness expands beyond the personal sphere. Practitioners begin to develop feelings of love and care for all living beings, transcending boundaries of nationality, race, or religion. This universal love fosters a sense of global responsibility, motivating individuals to contribute positively to the world around them.

Conclusion:

Loving-Kindness Meditation is a profound practice that has the potential to transform individuals and their relationships with themselves and others. By cultivating compassion, empathy, and universal love, practitioners can experience profound emotional healing, reduce stress and anxiety, and create a more harmonious and interconnected world. Whether you are a seasoned meditator or new to the practice, embracing Loving-Kindness Meditation can open the door to a more compassionate and empathetic way of being, enriching your life and the lives of those around you.

[vision-of-sunshine]

Dear Dad...

I miss you.

I love you.

This hurts more than I want to feel or look at, but for my health, I have to face what’s going on inside of me. I haven’t been able to cry the last three weeks, but today I finally cracked and what came out were all the things I wanted to say to you.

As a little girl, somehow, I made myself believe that I didn’t need you. I didn’t want to get close to you on the days I saw you because you weren’t around, you didn’t know things about me even the simplest of things like my favorite color, favorite animal or favorite snack. I saw you come home drunk many nights and saw that you were gone in the morning. I saw you be so tired coming home from work and wanting to watch tv or go take naps. Our bonding time, if I want to call it that, was watching tv or movies together. That isn’t my kind of bonding. That's something I like to do, but bonding is getting to know your heart and thoughts. The things that make you trigger in a negative sense or things that put a smile on your face. I want to learn all of that. But I walked with pride when I became a teenager, because I kept thinking, “why do I have to make the first move? You’re my dad, why aren’t you wanting to know what’s going on in my life?” so I just sat in the hurt, waiting for you to make a move. The moves I saw where just how much you weren’t in my life. I saw the times you were leaving the house and always thinking to myself “is this finally the last time you’ll walk out the doors?” 

I never wanted to admit how much I needed you. Needing someone never sat well with me. I wanted to be strong. I didn’t want to need anybody. But subconsciously, I always leaned on my friends. I always walked in the shadows because I didn’t want to be seen or heard, yet a part of me was jealous of those in the light. Not because I wanted to be in the spotlight, but because I wanted to live. 

Getting lost in books is what made me feel like I was living. I loved it. I still love it, but now it’s different. I love reading for the writing, for how the characters start one way and end a different way. For how I can see the imagination of the writer diving into a city, a town, a home, a fantasy and just going wild. I love that. I’m just not hiding in the books anymore, because loving my life has grown. Getting to experience something for myself has become so important than hiding... But as I’m slowly living my life now, I'm hitting internal walls that aren’t easy to face and right now, all the feelings I’ve held onto since a child, as a daughter are rising up... 

I felt like you didn’t want me. I felt like I wasn’t your daughter. Why didn’t you make me feel like your daughter? Is that weird to say? Some similarities that I saw when you came to visit two weeks ago were that we both don’t express what we feel to the fullest. We both wear a smile and laugh things off instead of embracing how serious something is. We both think we can conquer the world on our own. I never wanted to see how much we have in common, but Dad, we have more in common than I thought and honestly... I love being your daughter. It’s just hard because I don’t know you like I wish I did. I don’t know my family on your side like I kind of wish I did. I’m growing up... I’m 29 and going to be entering my 30s in ten months... I need you. I want your guidance. I want you in my life. I want to see you physically. Why do you have to live in a different state? Yes, I can fly to you and you can fly to me, and probably if you lived here, we wouldn’t see each other every day... Still. 

I’ve never wanted to be selfish as a daughter. Everything that mom went through when I was younger and even now. Everything you probably went through... I never asked for more than what was given to me. I even remember asking at 11 years old to divorce and leave officially for your happiness and for mom’s happiness. I didn’t think about mine. So is it bad that now I’m starting to think about mine? First thing on the list that I want is a hug but a long one then tell me what you were like as a kid, then about my family and so on. Tell me stories! I want to hear them all and to learn. 

Dad, I love you. And I think, I’m ready to make the first move to get to know you. 

[maynothingbut-tonightdouspart]

one of my favorite fleabag moments I never see anyone talk about and it's the parallel between when fleabag is in the bath with that guy, and she talks about being lonely and he doesn't really understand it

and then in contrast, the moment where the priest is explaining why he agreed to attend the family dinner of a couple he would be marrying by saying he's "just really fucking lonely"

[fieryhonesty]

Genshin drabbles filled with sadness - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao

“What have I done? Why did I write such angsty stuff? I feel horrible for hurting the boys. Maybe I should have delete this...”

prompts: loosing their s/o for whatever reason, f!reader

Genre: angst 

Warning(s): nsfw (alcohol consumption, mention of blood) don’t give me that look you don’t want to read this at work, depression & mourning, reader’s dead (no violent or detailed description the boys just lost their girl)

Kaeya has poured two glasses of wine. One for him and one for the woman sitting next to him. She was smiling with the most genuine smile. Pointing up at the sky. The moon and the stars were shining bright. He didn't need any other light source to see her beautiful face.

Just the two of them sitting at the balcony of their shared house. Silently observing the beauty of the night. Drinking from his glass, the sweet-bitter taste was dancing on his tongue. It was as beautiful as the woman he was spending the time with. 

"You know, you are really beautiful tonight, y/n. How about I take a day off tomorrow just to spend it with you?"

No answer.

"We could go on a walk around the city or perhaps go outside the city's walls?"

Yet again, silence.

Kaeya finished his glass with one quick motion. Pouring more wine. The burning sensation in his throat was slowly reminding him something.

"Hey, Dearest. Why don't you talk to me?" 

Silence. 

"Ah, you are right. I'm... a fool."

He starts laughing. It's not a laugh a happy man would have, it's quite the opposite. Kaeya's in pain. His chest hurts, he knows why but dares not to admit it.

Removing his eye patch and tossing it on the table. Looking at his smiling companion. Why is she so beautiful? He is such a lucky man, having somebody like that. So why is he feeling this pain in his chest? Why does he feel like his heart will burst?

The glass with wine shatters. The shards are covered in the red liquid. He closes his eyes. Trying to force the tears to stop forming. Biting his lips. It hurts so much. His hazy memories are slowly reminding him what's going on. 

Just like a movie it all flashes back in the moment you were standing between him and the enemy. Blocking the hit for him. Falling to ground with a painful scream. But before that you managed to look at your beloved. He is safe, you did well. 

He stares in horror at the scene. Wishing it's just a bad horror he is watching. This can't be happening. You didn't waste your life for him, did you? If there was somebody supposed to die it's him. He made a mistake. A mistake which cost him you.

Kaeya is silently sobbing, one hand hiding his face while the other is gripping his attire at chest area. He is sure nobody can see him, yet he still feels like to hide. He might be drunk but he knows the woman next to him is just an illusion created by his own mind. There's nobody at all it's just him and the wine. 

You are no longer alive. It's all because of him being cocky that day. He was full of himself and so sure he will keep you safe. In the end he lost his remaining pride and you...

Diluc is walking in circles. Biting his thumb while doing so. It hurts, he can taste blood but nothing hurts more than his heart right now. Sweat is forming on his forehead as he is trying to suppress his tears. His shoes are making loud thumbs against the wooden floor. The sounds can be heard in the room under his. 

Everyone is silent in the room. Elzer, Adelinde, the old man Tunner and a few more. Listening to noises from Master Diluc's room, yet nobody dares to let him know he is loud. It would be more than rude. Especially now when he has to deal with yet another painful experience. 

First he lost his father and several years later he lost his wife. He was finally happy. Having you by his side was a blessing. You were there for him whenever he needed and he did the same for you. Feeling down? He'd be there cupping your face, planting butterfly kisses on your face. Snuggling you close into a protective embrace.

You did something similar. Playing with his hair when he was snuggled to your neck. Brushing through them, tucking them behind his ear. Saying soothing words. He would fall asleep like that.

But now? You are gone. Your sudden passing away affected the whole manor. You were liked among the maids as you often joined in small talk or offered to help them. Despite their protests it's their job. You didn't mind it.

Old Tunner and folks from vineyards remember how you often walked around. Caressing the grapes or bringing some snack.

Simply put. You were the star which was shining bright for everyone. Lifting their spirits and now you are gone. Everyone is mourning you but none can think of how much he is hurt. 

When Diluc heard about your critical condition he rushed to see you but doctors didn't let him. You needed to rest but your body was weak, they knew you won't make it. In the end allowing him to see you for the last time. Holding your already cold hand. 

He sat there for minutes, until you left him all alone. He didn't move, doctors had to lead him out. Somebody had to pick him up and bring home. He laid on the bed, one hand over his face. Trying to keep his tears away. 

Nobody dared to knock on the door. Not even Elzer who always worried about his young Master. Trying to offer some kind words. He knew his words would be useless now. All he can do is just wait. He knows if he goes his Master will be out of control and won't listen to anything. 

It's just another painful hit for Master Diluc. He thought he would be happy finally. Already had plans for the future with you. Everything is pointless now. Why does life keep taking his beloved ones from him? How much more he has to suffer…

Xiao is silently sitting at the top of Wangshu Inn. The cold wind is caressing his hair. He is observing the distant horizon, how the moon is slowly going up. His mind is blank. If he were a mortal it would be probably clouded by negative thoughts. 

He has no feelings or need for them. He is one of the mighty Adepti, there's no room for stupid things like feelings or emotions. At least that's what he tries to keep repeating to himself. 

Mortals come and leave out of his life. Which is only natural for their short life span. He wouldn't be bothered with it at all. But there was a woman who managed to change him. Showed him what those odd feelings in his chest are. She proved to him he has feelings and emotions. He was just suppressing them his whole life. 

Perhaps it was all for the better. He feels lonely. Usually it would be the two of you sitting here. You would be nudging him about random things. Snuggle onto his shoulder, whispering some nonsense. He would look at you and see those shiny, beautiful eyes of yours. 

He remembers when you fed him with his favorite dish. He was confused at first why would you do it. Explaining to him it's something people in love would do for their partner. Take care of them. He tried to feed you too, it was a clumsy attempt. But you appreciated his efforts.

You showed him so many nice things he could see only from mortal's eyes. He understands some things he couldn't before. All because of you. But what's this feeling? Regret? No. He does not regret letting you enter his life. He regrets being too late. 

Before he could do something you were already gone. The demon which attacked you. That sneaky bastard avoiding his watchful gaze. It dared to assault somebody he thought of as a close person. Taking you from him just as if bonds are nothing. 

When he arrived you were possessed by the demon. Its power went out of control, destroying everything around. He tried to talk to you but there was nothing left, just agony and darkness. He could see the suffering in your face. You didn't want to. You never were a violent person, yet now you are destroying everything. 

For the first time in his life Xiao felt anger was taking control over him. He wanted to eradicate all demons. For what they did all those millennials, for what they did just right now. He knew you will eventually die and leave him, he was fine with that. But he never thought of losing you like this.

He has to do his duty as a Yaksha, the Liyue's protector. Pointing the tip of his spear at your throat. He stopped only because you tried to talk. The words coming out of your lips were just gibberish. 

"Farewell, y/n. I'm sorry."

Ending it just like that. Watching how the blood was leaving your body. Feeling sick from the sight of it. He released you from the agony the demon was causing you. Banishing it as it tried to escape from your dying body. There's no demon safe, not from Xiao. He will continue his duty.

But one thing is certain. He will always feel lonely at night as he got used to your presence. You will remain in his heart forever. Always will have that special place as a foolish but lovely mortal, daring to approach him despite all of his fame as a Yaksha. The cold he feels right now bothers him. Just if you could be there...

[farfromharry]

Brightside | CEO!Dad!Tom fic

summary: a sudden and unexpected turn of events with your little boy, leaves him in the hospital with an unknown diagnosis. tom has to fly home and the two of you have to face each other, properly and civilly, for the first time since your breakup. will this negative experience turn into a positive one, in more ways than one?

word count - 10.3k

warnings - warnings - language, hospitals, needles, fainting, mentions of seizures, mentions of blood

a/n - angst for once, but obviously ending in fluff because i can’t hurt myself like that🥰 also i’m super nervous to post this so lets see how this goes :)

A loud, irritating noise filled the kitchen as your phone began to ring. You groaned, annoyed. The once calm silence was now filled with your curses of panic as you tried to wipe off your messy hands as quickly as possible. You found an unused cloth on your kitchen side and decided on just using that, wiping off the remnants of the food you’d been making. You grabbed your phone from off of the counter, pressing the green accept button, lifting the device up to your ear.

“Hello?” you asked. Having not bothered to look at the contact name, you had absolutely no idea who you were even talking to right now.

“Hi, is this Miss Y/L/N?”

You mumbled a quick ‘yes.’ You wedged the phone between your ear and your shoulder, picking up the knife you’d been using a few minutes prior to continue cutting up the vegetable in front of you.

“This is about your son, Theo,” she said, “I work in the reception at the school.” You rolled your eyes, assuming that your angel of a four year old had somehow gotten into some trouble that you were now going to have to deal with.

The lady proceeded to explain to you quite the opposite of what you’d originally thought. She’d told you how Theo had thrown up in class, prompting him to be sent to the nurse where he then fainted, almost escalating to a seizure.

“What?” you asked. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling beginning to bubble in your throat. The knife had carelessly slipped from your fingers, making a loud clattering noise as it hit the counter. You gave the woman your undivided attention, listening to every word she spoke to you. She confirmed again what you’d thought you’d heard, your heart starting to beat out of your chest.

“We’re taking him to the hospital just in case,” she said, “Can you meet us there?”

You were panicking, her words barely even registering in your head until she called your name again. You muttered a quick yes in response. Your hands were beginning to shake and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep hold of your phone.

“I’ll be right there.”

You looked around at the mess, scrolling through the contacts on your phone and calling your mother. She picked up quickly, happily greeting you on the other end of the line. You quickly explained to her the situation and asked nicely if she could clean up what you’d been doing while you’re gone.

She thankfully said yes, promising everything would be fine. You were in such a rush after that, that you didn’t take anything with you except your phone. You slipped your shoes on as quick as you could, grabbing your car keys out of the small wooden bowl on the side and rushing out of the front door.

It was a miracle that you somehow didn’t crash your car on the way to the hospital. There were tears welling up in your eyes and it was impossible to properly see clearly. Your hands were still shaking as they gripped the wheel with so much strength you were scared it could break. Your head was a mess and you could barely process which direction you were going, you knew you shouldn’t have been driving like this.

It was almost a daze when you thought about how you got from your home to the hospital, your brain couldn’t piece together being in the car.

As soon as you’d parker, you were rushing inside, probably looking insane to others as you frantically turned your head in any direction, trying to find where you could ask for help.

You were clearly distressed and people were beginning to notice, one of those people being the lady that had called you earlier.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Your head whipped around to where the voice came from, spotting her standing a few metres away. You made your way over, seeing her motion to the room where you could see your little boy laying inside.

Your heart broke even more at the sight of him. There were wires connected to him, ones that you didn’t understand, and it scared you to the core.

You frowned, stroking your hand through his messy curls, trying to tame the wild hair as best you could. It was one of the many things he’d inherited from his dad.

“Do you have anyone else you can call?” she asked, politely, “I just don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You smiled at her in thanks, nodding your head and forcing yourself to move away from your baby boy.

“I should probably call his dad,” you stated.

You heard a quiet groan from your side, turning your body to see Theo’s eyes fluttering awake, his body shifting uncomfortably.

“Oh thank god, you’re awake,” you gushed. You kissed his head over and over, wrapping your arms around him tightly. You heard the boy whine about you almost suffocating him and letting out a relieved giggle, you loosened your grip.

You still held him to your chest, just long enough to calm your racing heart.

“I’ll leave you both,” she spoke, reminding you she was still in the room.

You nodded your head, flashing her a genuinely thankful smile.

“Thank you for helping him,” you whispered. You gave her a friendly hug, telling your son to wave goodbye before she left. You sighed deeply, taking a moment to let everything sink in to not overwhelm yourself.

You heard the four year old calling for you, prompting you to turn around to see what he needed.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” He jutted his bottom lip out, looked absolutely adorable as he started up at you with those soft, honey, brown eyes.

“I’m bored,” he whined. You pouted for him, eyes scanning around the small room for anything he could possibly amuse himself with.

“Do you want me to go ask for a colouring book or something?” you asked him. He rapidly nodded his head, a smile breaking out on your face for the first time within the hour, since the school had called you.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a second.”

Before you walked out of the door, you turned back to him and pointed your finger at him accusingly. “Don’t get into any trouble, mister,” you warned, a hint of playfulness in your tone. He giggled loudly, making your heart melt at the adorable sound.

“I promise.”

Being on a children's ward meant that the front desk always had things like these at hand. The ladies were more than happy to give you one of the books they had left, not having many options to choose from though.

They handed you some crayons and other colouring items. You thanked them profusely, knowing that you now wouldn’t have to deal with a cranky little Holland boy, because you knew how they could get.

You made your way back to the room quickly, having your doubts about leaving the toddler alone in an unknown place for any longer than necessary.

“Here you go, little man.”

You handed him the book with the wide variety of colouring items. You had to explain to him that the only books they had left were animals and flowers and you thought the animal ones looked much more fun.

“I’m expecting to see a rainbow frog,” you told him. He giggled, shaking his head.

“You can’t have a rainbow frog, mummy.” You gasped, furrowing your eyebrows teasingly.

“Why not, mister?” you asked. You saw him huff, trying to hide your giggle.

“They’re not real,” he said, like it was just so obvious.

This time you couldn’t hide your giggle as you watched his tiny brows furrow in annoyance at you. You leaned forward and placed a kiss to the tiny crease in the middle of his eyebrows. Once again something he got from his dad when he pulled the same face.

“I was just teasing bub.” He rolled his eyes at you, making you gasp and poke his belly teasingly. He giggled loudly, the noise echoing around the room as he tried to get you to stop tickling him.

You had considerably calmed down from when you arrived at the hospital to now, feeling your heart beating at a much slower pace, one that was at least calm.

“Will you colour with me?” he asked.

Originally, you were going to take this time to call Tom, but seeing the boy’s puppy dog eyes, you absolutely couldn’t resist.

You stayed and coloured in the animals with him for a while, just enjoying bonding with your bub.

You’d help him stay in the lines of the drawing, helping him out where he needed helping, while also working on your own animal, surprisingly enjoying yourself.

Noticing the time on the clock, you made the decision that you had to call Tom, it had already been long enough, it couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’m just going to go call daddy, okay?” He nodded his head, content with going back to his colouring book. You sighed, leaving the room and finding a quiet space in the corridor.

You pulled up Tom’s contact on your phone, one you’d contemplated deleting probably a hundred times, hovering over the call button hesitantly.

As soon as it started ringing your heart ached, you weren’t even sure if he’d pick up, possibly too busy with work once again.

You gasped when you heard the phone connect, almost shocked that he’d take the time to answer you.

“Hi, Tom, um-“ He cut you off before you could even finish, something that irritated you beyond belief.

“Look Y/N, now’s really not a good time, can this wait?” he asked, telling someone on the other side of the phone that he’d be two minutes.

“Tom, I had to take Theo to the hospital,” you cried, finally letting out the sob you’d been holding in all day. You didn’t mean to cry or guilt him, it was just bad timing. You’d been trying to be strong for your little boy, knowing he was already scared out of his mind, he didn’t need to know his mum was scared too.

“Woah, hey, calm down, breathe Y/N.” You listened to his smooth voice, taking deep breaths until you were able to talk again.

“What do you mean you had to take him to the hospital,” he said, “What happened?”

A sense of overwhelming panic beginning to overtake his entire body. He was across the ocean, there was nothing he could do.

You explained everything that had happened up until now, Tom listening intently to every word.

“Shit, do they know what’s wrong?” he asked, nervously. You could hear the worry in his voice.

“No, we’re waiting for them to come and do some tests,” you said, glancing back at your boy through the window in his room. Just to check that he was okay.

“Is he okay right now?” he questioned. His brain was a mess, there were so many possibilities of things that could be wrong running through his head and he hoped to God that none of them were true.

“Yeah, I think so, he’s just colouring at the minute.”

Tom sighed. “Okay, well um-“ He tried to organize his thoughts, listening to you telling him to take a minute. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. You suddenly felt awful, knowing he was halfway across the world. The last thing you wanted was to guilt trip him into dropping everything, especially if he didn’t want to. Your tears had come to a stand still, trying to explain to him that it was okay and you had this under control.

“You don’t have to, I know you’re busy and-“ He cut you off again.

“Nothing’s more important to me than him, I’ll be there, I promise.”

After going through the later years of your relationship, you knew not to trust Tom’s promises, and you also knew how stubborn he was. His promises were often broken and just ended up hurting people in the end, and you didn’t want that to be you all over again.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” he asked, after not receiving a response from you.

“Yeah, I heard you, I’ll see you soon,” you said. You said your goodbyes, hanging up the phone and heading back inside the hospital room to see your boy.

“Change of plans, cancel the meeting,” Tom demanded, taking his coat from behind his chair and throwing it on his body in a haste. The women and men sitting around the table stared at him in shock, gasping at how unprofessional the CEO seemed to be.

“Mr Holland, this meeting is important, we can’t just cancel,” she tried to reason. He waved her off, shaking his head and dialling another number on his phone, the one of his personal assistant.

“Harrison, hi, I need you to book me on the next flight to London, asap.”

She apologised to them on his behalf, but the woman refused to give up, following Tom out of the meeting room and all the way to the set of lifts at the end of the floor. Tom was rapidly pressing the button to call the lift, hoping it could come quicker than it was. He hung up the phone with Harrison after confirming all the details of the flight.

“London?” she gasped, “You can’t go to London, we’re in the middle of one of the biggest deals of your career Tom.”

Tom rolled his eyes, almost up to his limits with everything. He didn’t know what was going to cause him to break down first, the woman or the fact that the lift still wasn’t here. He knew it was silly to get so worked up over something so small, but his concern for his child was above anything else.

“I don’t care about the deal, Y/N just called, Theo’s in the hospital,” he said. She frowned, an apology already on the tip of her tongue. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, referencing the meeting with the big investors that was due to happen any moment.

“Whatever you think is best, but please don’t tell them about Theo, I don’t want this getting out.” She nodded, heading back towards the office to explain what was happening with the meeting, unfortunately having to come up with something on the spot.

While Tom was being driven to the airport, you were trying to convince Theo to get in bed and go to sleep. It was late for him, almost eleven, and he’d had a very long day.

“Please, it’s already past your normal bedtime.” He pouted, making grabby hands at you.

“But this bed isn’t comfy and-“ You rolled your eyes, gently squeezing his cheeks together to get him to stop making excuses.

“Do you want me to sleep with you?” you asked, seeing him nod his head. You smiled softly, climbing under the covers and seeing what he meant when he said it was uncomfortable. You let him curl into you, resting his small head on your chest, his arms clinging to you.

“Mummy?” he whispered. You hummed, running your fingers through his curly hair, something that you usually did when he was scared, because it always calmed him down. He shifted in your arms, pushing himself up on the small bed so that he could lay his head next to yours on the soft pillow.

“Do you still love daddy?” he asked, looking up at you with his big brown eyes that perfectly resembled Toms. Your heart ached. In all honesty, you didn’t know what to say to the boy, because you didn’t know yourself. You thought it over in your head quietly.

On the one hand you hated how obsessed and committed he was to his work, but on the other, he was an amazing dad to Theo, and he always treated you like a princess. Your eyes flickered over your baby’s face, admiring all the parts of his features that he got from his daddy.

You realised in that moment, looking at those tiny features, the ones that resembled the ones you studied for hours on end once upon a time, you truly did hold a soft spot for Tom, even now. You sighed, stroking your boy’s cheek, ready to give him his answer.

“Of course I do.” you admitted. You saw the corner of his lips twitch up as he tried to bite back a smile.

“Then why don’t you live together,” he asked, “Everyone else at school’s parents live together.” You frowned, not having the heart to tell him about your break up properly, even after all this time. You simply pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arms around his tiny body and kissing the top of his head.

“We needed some time apart, to focus on what needed our attention,” you said, “We couldn’t do everything at once.”

You saw him staring up at you with his wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest even thinking about what happened with Tom. You weren’t quite sure Theo understood what you meant, because he still looked a little confused.

“So, your daddy had to focus on his company, making sure everything was going well and I had to focus on my little rugrat,” you said, poking his belly to tickle him. He giggled, trying to squirm away from your hands.

“Is it like-like in Captain America, when Steve has to leave Peggy to save the world.” You raised your eyebrows, thinking it over. You were a little bit shocked by his surprisingly good analogy.

“And then Peggy has to focus on Shield,” you added, “It’s exactly like that Theo.” He nodded his head, understanding where you were coming from.

You saw his big eyes begin to blink more, but also slower, a tell-tale sign that he was going to knock out any minute.

“Mummy?” he asked again. You smiled.

“Yes Theo?” you said, brushing his overgrown curls out of the way of his eyes.

“Are you more like Steve or Peggy?” he asked. You giggled, amused by the idea of him relating yours and Tom’s relationship to a fictional, superhero one.

“Well you see, I’m more like Steve, because I had to sacrifice everything for my world, just like he did.” You kissed his head when you said ‘my world,’ clearly referring to your boy.

“Wow,” he mumbled, letting his eyes finally flutter shut. “My mummy’s a superhero.”

Your eyes began to water happily, cradling his head to your chest as he finally fell asleep. You took deep breaths, trying to bite back the heart wrenching cry that was threatening to come out.

After a while of laying in the silence of the hospital room, you gave in and closed your eyes, letting your son’s rhythmic breaths ease you to sleep.

You were completely unaware that Tom had gotten the first flight out to London after he ended your phone call. You assumed he would have arrived in a few days time, at least, probably having left over business to finish up first.

[His heart] was racing the entire journey, feeling utterly useless from halfway across the world and he couldn’t stand it.

Harrison had tried to calm him down as he helped him pack for his flight on the private jet, telling him he needed to be positive about this. Tom had snapped at him, asking him how that was even possible while he wasn’t with his own child.

Tom felt bad but Harrison made it clear that he didn’t take it to heart, knowing he was stressed and there was nothing he could really do to help.

He offered to go with his boss, thinking it’d be better if he wasn’t doing this all alone, but Tom refused with minimal explanation. He knew you wouldn’t want a stranger lingering around the hospital room if anything went badly.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tom?” he asked, standing on the runway at the entrance to the private jet, ready to go with him to England if he just so much as asked.

“I’m okay, really,” he promised, ascending the steps of the plane with his luggage.

The plane ride was gruelling. Tom didn’t know what to expect when he arrived, and he certainly didn’t know how it was going to go between the two of you while he was there. The flight was long and he tried to get as much sleep as he could, barely managing a couple hours with the worry bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Everything seemed to be going so slowly, right from landing to getting through the airport.

It felt like he was waiting for a taxi for days, tapping his thumb on his arm anxiously, his eyes focused solely on the ground, trying to control the thoughts in his head.

The ride from the airport to the children’s hospital was agony for the young father. Tom’s leg was bouncing nervously, his hands shaking and his eyes glancing down at his watch or his phone every few seconds. He hadn’t gotten any updates from you recently, assuming you’d fallen asleep because of the time.

He knew that with it being this late he’d have to see you and Theo tomorrow morning. Before he left he didn’t really consider the time difference.

When the taxi stopped he was quick to toss the man the right amount of money, practically sprinting out of the car to grab his luggage.

It was as if he ran into the hospital, looking around frantically in search of the reception area, just like you had done hours prior. When he spotted it, it was like his feet were working before his brain. They led him to the woman before he even had time to process that he was moving.

“Hi, I’m here for Theodore Holland,” he announced. The woman at the front desk clearly didn’t notice the sense of urgency in Tom’s voice.

“Sir, I’m sorry, visiting hours are over,” she said, “They start again tomorrow at nine,” she explained calmly. Tom shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the hundredth time today. He was sure that by now it looked a complete mess, a contrast from his normally styled and gelled hair.

“I can’t wait, I have to see him,” he whined pitifully, “Please,” he begged.

She took pity on the young man, nodding her head and waving the rules in his time of need.

“And who are you?” she asked, typing the little boy’s name into the computer to search for his files, so slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

“I’m his dad,” he stated, looking around the hospital ward in a panic. She nodded, looking at the details for Theo on her computer.

“Can you just confirm his birthday?” she asked. Tom recited the little boy’s birthday to her with ease, the six digits being the password to his phone for the last four years and the day also being the best moment of his life.

“Alright, Mr Holland, you want to go right down that hall, turn left and then it’s the first door on your right, room 106,” she instructed. Tom thanked her, taking long, quick strides down the hallway, carrying his bag with his belongings in his hand.

After finding the plaque with the correct door number, he noticed the lights were off. He carefully opened the door and creeped in, closing it quietly behind him, to not disturb either of you. He noticed two figures on the bed instead of one, his heart melting at the sight of your four year old curled up into your chest like an infant again.

He let out a quiet sigh, placing his bag on the floor, taking a seat next to Theo’s side of the bed. He could now clearly see your face as you slept, still as beautiful as he remembered.

Yours and Tom’s breakup was messy. Breakups always are when there’s a child involved.

You simply hated how much Tom was working, barely ever home to see you both, leaving, what felt like, all the responsibility to you. You were both still young, only twenty-two at the time and you were struggling. One more missed dinner and crying baby finally tipped you over the edge, to where you couldn’t take it anymore.

When Tom finally came home that night you confronted him about it all. You didn’t mean to start a fight but that was evidently what happened anyway. You thought it could’ve been a civilised discussion that would be solved within the hour.

Tom left the house that night to go and stay with his brothers, hoping he could give you time to cool off and then everything would be back to normal when he next saw you.

However, what he didn’t expect, was for you to tell him you were really done, just like you’d said in the argument. He seemingly couldn’t choose between his job and his girlfriend and child, so, you chose for him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He didn’t realise how much he was focused on work instead of the people that mattered to him, and he pretty much lost everything within a night.

The next week, Tom was off doing more and more business deals to distract himself from his loss, his family claiming he was overworking himself. He never listened to them though, and that’s how he ended up in the states, far away from you and far away from his son.

From next to the bed Tom saw his baby begin to stir, shuffling over closer to his side of the bed and smiling down at the beautiful boy.

“Daddy?” he asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his tiny fists.

“Hi precious.” Tom stroked his cheek softly. This was the first time he’d been able to see his son in months, and he’d almost forgotten how amazing it was to see him in person. Yes, he’d seen him on facetime frequently, but there was something much more heart-warming about seeing him in the flesh and being able to hold him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked rather loudly, Tom shushing him and pointing to you.

“We don’t want to wake mummy,” he said, seeing Theo nod his head. He extended his arms out for his dad, wanting him to pick him up. Tom carefully scooped him out of bed, trying his hardest not to wake you from your peaceful sleep.

Theo wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck in one of his hugs, giving Tom a chance to look over his shoulder and finally admire your sleeping figure. Just you this time, no toddler cuddled up to you obscuring part of his view.

He admired all the things he used to- well, still does love about you. The way your eyelashes rested just above your cheeks, the way your lips parted just making him want to constantly kiss you. The way the sun shining through the window perfectly illuminated your face, making you look like a perfect angel. He took a few steps closer, just enough to brush some hair out of your face that looked like it was bothering you. Even the simple touch had you nuzzling your cheek, subconsciously, into the warmth of his hand, having missed his touch, even if you’d refuse to admit it when you were awake.

“Daddy?” Theo whispered, taking his note of trying not to wake you up.

“What’s up, bug?” he asked, turning his head to look at him. He always felt it was like looking into a time machine. You were convinced right from the day he was born that he didn’t get any of your features, looking like a clone of Tom when he was a toddler. But Tom was always adamant that Theo got your personality and mannerisms.

“I’m hungry,” he pouted, resting his tired head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go find you something to eat,” he said, following the hospital signs that pointed in the direction of the café.

Tom, stupidly, didn’t think to leave you a note to tell you that he’d arrived, or that he’d just taken Theo for food.

You didn’t really remember falling asleep in the uncomfortable hospital bed, nor did you remember Tom pulling a blanket over you and Theo in the middle of the night, or Tom even arriving for that matter.

You opened your eyes, groaning quietly as you were pulled out of your sleep. You turned your head to see if your son was awake, which you had no doubts he would be, but you frowned when you noticed he was no longer even in the bed, the sheets now cold on his side.

You sat up, looking around the room to find you were completely alone, except there was now an unfamiliar bag sitting next to the door. Your motherly instincts kicked in and you began to panic not knowing the whereabouts of your baby.

You were about to call for a nurse, asking if she’d seen him when Tom walked through the door with your son perched on his hip, laughing loudly as he nibbled on a sandwich.

“Oh thank god,” you said, taking Theo from Tom’s arms into your own. You kissed his head, running your hands over his hair.

“I didn’t know where you were,” you whined, glancing up at Tom. Theo nuzzled closer to you, his silent way of telling you he was here.

“That was my fault, sorry, he was hungry so I-“ This time you were the one to cut Tom off before he could finish his sentence.

“It’s okay, just scared me s’all.” Theo tucked his head into your neck, his small hand still clinging on to his food. After a few minutes, your heart had calmed down, reminding you that he still hadn’t eaten.

“Okay, go and eat buddy.” You let him down, watching him scurry off back to his bed where he had a little table he could eat on. You watched him for a couple seconds, making sure he was okay before turning back around to face Tom.

“Hi.” He said, staring right at you, that oh so familiar face looking as perfect and handsome as he had the first time you met.

“Hi Tom,” you said back. There was a painfully awkward tension between you both, one that could’ve been cut with a knife. Neither of you really knew what to speak about, both of you trying to start a conversation at exactly the same time, something that only made it even more awkward.

“You go first,” he said, trying to be polite.

“When did you get here?” you asked. You noticed the bags under his eyes, feeling yourself start to worry about him, but part of you told you to stop.

“Just after four, they almost didn’t let me in,” he explained. You nodded your head, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on your shirt.

“Well, he seems pretty glad that you’re here Tom,” you said, flashing him a nervous smile.

“H-how do you feel?” he asked, “About me being here?” It was silent for a few minutes. Tom was nervous, immediately regretting even asking as soon as the question came out of his mouth.

“I’m happy you’re here too.” His eyes widened in shock, taken aback by that answer. He smiled, his heart beginning to beat slightly faster.

Neither of you said anything more as you entered Theo's room, choosing to make small conversation with the boy about anything and everything, rather than with each other.

At some point in the afternoon Theo had grown sleepy, crawling under the blanket to take a nap. It was now just you and Tom sitting in yet another awkward silence. You were sitting in the chair next to his bed, making sure you were there if he needed you for anything. Tom was sitting across from you in another chair, watching you interact with your son. He noticed you visibly shiver in your thin, short sleeved shirt, rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself up.

“Are you cold?” Tom asked, almost rhetorically as he pulled off his own jacket and wrapped the material around your shivering frame.

“Thank you, I-I was in such a rush when I left, that I guess I forgot.” He nodded, flashing you a tight lipped, awkward smile. The tension in the air was uncomfortable, neither of you really daring to speak up.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he said, his eyes filled with regret. You tried to tell him it was fine, but you could feel your emotions rising in your throat, making it harder to keep them down.

He could see you breaking down inside just through your eyes, and he didn’t know how long you’d been holding this in. You took a glance at Theo to make sure he was asleep before looking back to your ex-lover.

“Fuck Tom, I was a mess, I-I had to call my mum and ask her to sort the house for me,” you cried, burying your head in your hands. His heart broke, a mental debate going on in his head about whether he should go over there to comfort you or stay sitting in his chair across from you.

He definitely didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his presence but he also hated seeing you cry like this.

He eventually decided to help, coming over and wrapping his arms around you timidly. He was shocked when you curled into his chest, tightening his hold on you and running his hand over your hair. To make it easier for you both, you switched places. Tom letting you curl up into his lap on the chair.

“Shh, it’s okay, he’s okay,” he said. He didn’t know if he was convincing you or himself though. His voice was calming to you, somehow bringing your tears to a slow stop as he whispered sweet words to you. Just being like this with him reminded you of all the times you’d spent together dating, normally in more positive circumstances than this.

“Why don’t I call my mum or someone, have her come here and watch him, and I’ll take you home for a little bit.” You nodded your head gratefully, tucking your face into his neck as he pulled out his phone.

The phone call between Nikki and her son was rather quick, the woman agreeing to come and watch Theo with no hesitation, especially after Tom had explained the whole hospital situation that only made you tear up again.

“Thank you,” you whimpered quietly. He nodded his head, kissing your temple lightly.

“Of course.”

You were still sitting in his lap with Tom rubbing his hand up and down your back when Nikki walked in, not even half an hour later.

“Hello,” she greeted, trying to hide her grin at the scene in front of her. If you weren’t going to fall back in love like she’d hoped, at least you were on talking terms.

“Thank you for doing this,” you said, getting up to wrap her in a tight hug. She told you that it was no problem, ushering you both out, making a playful comment that you smelled bad. You scoffed, feigning offense, even if you knew she was partially right.

Tom drove you home in your car, back to the home the two of you once shared together. It was silent on the way there, not even the radio turned on for just some form of noise. It was quite emotional for Tom walking back inside the house, looking around and seeing everything was pretty much identical to how it was when he left. His mind replaying all the memories you both shared in different places all over the house.

“Do you want anything?” you asked. He simply asked for a glass of water and you nodded, heading over to the kitchen. It made you frown slightly, remembering what had happened here only the day before. You quickly filled up the glass and then headed back to where Tom was standing, admiring the living room with a tiny grin.

“Why are you smiling?” you asked. He turned his head in your direction, not even realising he had been smiling, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

“I don’t really know, i-it just hasn’t changed,” he said. You could still see traces of a grin as you handed him a glass of water, telling him you were going to take a quick shower.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, heading up the stairs to finally have a moment to yourself for the first time in two days.

You didn’t take very long. Taking a quick shower like you said and then drying your hair so you didn’t catch a cold in the winter weather. You got Theo’s stuffed bear that he sleeps with, his blanket and then some new pyjamas for him and you were ready to head back.

“Got everything?” he asked. You nodded, handing him the bear and taking the car keys from him.

“I want to drive,” you stated. You didn’t really know why, but a part of you just wanted to. Tom didn’t argue with you, following you out to the car and climbing into the passenger side.

There was a brief conversation this time around, however still not much, the silence filled with more awkward tension.

“Is this the bear I got him when he was born?” he asked, playing with the small piece of ribbon that was tied around its neck.

“Yeah, he loves it,” you told him. You noticed him wipe away a stray tear that ran down his cheek, making your heart pang in your chest. You reached over the console of the car with your hand, lacing your fingers with his while keeping your eyes on the road. His eyes widened and he stared at you, heart filled with hope, your eyes never glancing over in his direction.

It felt like Deja-vu arriving back at the hospital, except this time you knew where you were going. You entered the room to Nikki sitting quietly beside your still sleeping son, a smile spreading across her face, the woman noting how much better you looked already.

“I should start heading home.” She gave you another tight hug, Tom offering to walk her out because of the now darkened night sky. You bid her a simple goodbye, waiting until they were out of your sight to head over to your boy.

So while Tom went to take his mum to her car, you planned on giving Theo his bear, gently cooing to wake him up.

“Mummy?” he asked groggily. You smiled, handing him his bear and kissing his head.

“You can go back to sleep now, bub.” He hummed, nuzzling his head into the soft fur of the stuffed animal. You also placed the soft blanket over top of him, knowing the thin hospital sheet did little to keep him warm.

“Thank you.” He whispered, adding a quiet goodnight that made your heart swell.

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

                                                       <<<>>>

The next morning, you were informed by his nurse that Theo needed blood tests and some other evaluations to check everything was okay. You knew it was going to be a long day for the four year old so you tried your best to plan out in your head where he could take quick naps in between his check-ups to keep him energized enough.

He didn’t seem fazed by the information when you told him, having no negative experience to relate to having any kind of needle; at least not that he can remember.

Unfortunately for him though, the blood tests were first, meaning he was going to have to deal with a sore arm all day.

The three of you were guided by a nurse to a small office, one with all different kinds of confusing machines that you didn’t know about.

You helped Theo up onto the examination table, still standing close by.

“Mummy?” he asked, his big brown eyes staring up at you nervously.

“Yeah, bub?” you asked, kneeling down so you were just a bit lower than him sitting on the table.

“Can I sit in your lap?” he asked, nervously fidgeting with his hands..

After checking with the nurse, you nodded your head. “Of course you can, come here.” You helped him climb into your lap, sitting with his back against your chest and your arms around his stomach. Tom stayed near the door, ready to leave if it got too much for him; he never was very good with needles, or seeing Theo cry.

The woman explained to Theo that she was just taking blood for them to examine and find out what was wrong. He nodded his head enthusiastically, ready to let her do what she needed.

She prepared what she needed while Tom nervously bit at his nails, seeing the reassuring smile you sent his way.

“This is going to hurt a little bit buddy,” she said, finally pressing the needle to the vein in his skin. Tom winced even before Theo did. The boy clearly hated the feeling, beginning to cry softly from the pain of the syringe in his arm.

You saw Tom struggling in the corner, tears welling up in his own eyes as he watched his son squirm in pain.

“You’re okay, bub,” you whispered reassuringly, kissing his head and his cheek, trying to calm him down enough for the woman to take the blood safely. When she’d gotten what she needed she took the needle out, cleaning up his skin and letting him choose a themed plaster.

“Which one would you like?” she asked, showing him his options. His eyes widened and any trace of sadness was gone, pointing straight to the blue and red masked figure.

“Can I have a Spiderman one, please?” he asked. You giggled, seeing her nod her head. She gently flattened it over his skin, making sure it was properly stuck down.

“You can go back to your room, we’ll run some tests and then we’ll be with you as soon as we can.” She informed you both. You nodded your head, helping him off your lap and letting him take Tom’s still sweaty hand.

“Hey, Theo,” you cooed, bending down to his height. He looked at you with a small smile, letting you wipe the drying tears from his face. “That wasn’t so bad was it?” you asked. He shook his head, showing you his plaster again.

“ ‘Cause I’m a big boy, mummy.” You smiled, nodding your head.

“And, you’re just as strong as Spider-Man,”

you whispered.

“And Hulk?” he asked in a tiny voice.

“Even stronger than Hulk,” you confirmed. He giggled, letting go of his dad’s hand to wrap his arms around your neck, being careful of his sore one. You rubbed his back, continuing to praise him for how good he was. You didn’t notice how Tom was staring at you with complete adoration. His heart was melting seeing you interact with your son like this, having gone without witnessing it in person for a while.

He ran back to Tom, gripping his hand and showing off his Spider-Man band aid to his dad proudly. You smiled, shaking your head, following behind them as they walked back to his room.

He was already used to the routine by now, running to his bed when you all entered the room.

“Okay bud, we’ve got a couple hours until they do some more testing, d ’you wanna take a nap or watch a film with me and daddy?” He sat quietly as he thought about it, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration so he could make the right choice.

“Can we watch Iron man?” he asked. You nodded your head, knowing that was one of Tom’s favourites as well and he’d be more than happy to agree. He jumped down, clinging to you while Tom set up the film on his computer.

You grabbed the fluffy blanket you’d brought the day prior, throwing it over your laps to help you get comfortable enough to watch the two hour film. He cheered quietly when it started, being scooped up into Tom’s lap so the two could quietly talk about it, something that had always annoyed you.

You knew it was going to happen, barely even halfway through the movie Theo had started to fall asleep in Tom’s lap, his head resting on his chest. His head kept falling, making him snap his eyes awake and pretend as if he was still watching the film playing on the laptop.

You giggled, trying to tame his messy hair with your fingers.

Tom eventually placed his large hand on Theo’s head, basically smushing his cheek against his chest, softly stroking his bedhead, helping to keep him in place so he could fall asleep. His other arm was around his back, making sure he didn’t fall backwards off his leg.

“He’s missed you.” you said after a while, catching Tom’s attention, forcing him to move his eyes off his sleeping son to look at you. He smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“I missed him too,” he admitted. You and Tom watched as much as you could of the film, checking the time every so often.

Fifteen minutes before his next set of tests were due to start, Tom gently cooed the boy awake, with soft whispers and kisses to his head. He whined, trying to hide his face and fall back to sleep.

“No, no, you’ve got to wake up bub,” he said. Theo begrudgingly opened his eyes, lifting his hand to rub the sleep from them and look at his surroundings.

“ ‘m tired.” You pouted at him, leaning forward to try and tame his messy curls.

“I know, but you can take another nap later.”

The rest of the day dragged on for the boy. He was practically a zombie by the time he was finally able to go to bed, even with the frequent naps.

You had once again taken the seat beside his bed, running your fingers through his messy hair to try and soothe him to sleep quicker.

He was out like a light in minutes, cuddling even deeper into the pillow.

You let out a sigh, slowly moving away from him to lean back in the chair, realising just how uncomfortable you were. Your constant shifting caught Tom’s attention, his gaze burning holes through you, making your face flush.

You noticed Tom trying to keep his eyes open, looking like a little puppy every time he’d slowly shake his head, trying to shake away the impending sleep.

“Hey.” you whispered, catching his attention, again. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

He shook his head, assuring you he was fine. You rolled your eyes at his blatant stubbornness, remembering this is how he’d always been.

“Why are you so stubborn?” you asked, not meaning for it to come out of your mouth sounding so vicious.

“I wanna stay and talk to you.” You were convinced your heart had stopped beating. You cocked your head in confusion.

“You do?” you asked. He nodded his head, a small smile on his lips as he watched you get over the initial shock you were in.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” His smile faded, worry forming in the pit of your stomach.

“C-can we talk about us?” he asked, his voice sounding just as unconvincing as his body language looked. You took pity on him, slipping your hand into his, the one that was resting in his lap.

“I guess, but what is there to talk about?” Tom seemed defeated already by your unenthusiastic answer, it sounded to him like you didn’t want this, but after seeing you again yesterday, he was determined to win you back.

“I never really apologized for everything I did,” he said. “I was a dick, and then I just left you both.” You’d spent months hating Tom for him just leaving you with a toddler, but looking at his face now, you could tell he felt awful.

“I want to do better, be a better dad-“ You cut him off, shaking your head.

“You’re an amazing dad.” You saw the hint of a smile when your words registered in his head.

“I want to be better to you, Y/N.” You froze, staring into those brown eyes, trying to see if he meant it. “I’m so, so, sorry, for everything I did,” he whispered.

Over the course of his apology he had managed to shuffle closer to you. Your knees now touched, preventing him from coming any further forward.

“Do you ever think you could give me another chance?” he asked, almost scared to know the answer. You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand.

“Only if you can promise me one thing.” You explained. Tom’s eyes widened, his heart beginning to race.

“Anything,” he mumbled, fully prepared to dedicate himself to you and your child.

“Please come home.” It wasn’t a difficult decision for time this time around like it was the first time. As soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he was sold. He rapidly nodded his head, making a mental note to deal with work later.

He reached his hand up, cupping your cheek, seeing you nuzzle your face closer to his touch. You placed your own hand on top of his, turning your head to place a quick kiss on his palm.

“I know i fucked up, big time,” he reiterated, emphasising the big time and pausing for a minute, rubbing his free hand over his mouth. You watched him intently, the thing that was probably making him most nervous.

“But, do you think we could try again?” Your silence scared him. He didn’t know if he’d ever been this worried to hear an answer from someone.

“Yeah, I think we could give it a go.” Tom grinned, his cheeks flushing a light pink shade. He couldn’t wait a second longer, leaning in to press his lips onto yours. The kiss was perfect. Slow, passionate, everything you’d missed since you’d broken up. “But you’re going to have to prove you’re sorry,” you said.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised. “I’m really glad to have you back,” he whispered, his forehead leaning on yours and his hand massaging the back of your head. Part of you was screaming that you shouldn’t have taken him back that quickly, but the other part of you had been waiting for him for two years, and you were so happy to have him back.

“Me too.” The moment wasn’t very long lived

after you heard the blankets on the hospital bed rustle, turning your head to see Theo pushing himself into a sitting position. “I think someone else will be too.”

The little boy stared at you both in confusion, not understanding what you were referring to, or why you were suddenly so close again.

“C’mere buddy,” Tom said, motioning for Theo to climb into his arms. The boy climbed down from the bed with minimal struggle, running towards Tom and colliding with him with a loud giggle. Tom made a grunting noise, whining about how strong Theo was and how that hurt.

The boy just laughed at his dad, telling him to stop being silly.

“Do you want to tell him?” Tom asked. You shook your head, flashing him a smile.

“You got this,” you said. Theo looked between you both confused, having no idea what you were talking about, but the nosey part of him really wanted to know. Tom grabbed the boy’s full attention.

“So, daddy’s going to be coming home, is that okay with you?” His eyes widened, his head whipping in your direction, silently asking if it was true. You nodded, your heart melting as tears welled up in his brown eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Tom cooed, rubbing his back as he buried his head in his dad’s chest. He glanced at you, unsure what to do in this situation.

“He’s just happy.” Theo nodded, agreeing with what you said.

“Things are finally going to go back to normal.” You chose not to mention anything about a possible diagnosis with Theo, something that would be far from normal, instead just choosing to soak up the moment, rather than burst your bubble and ruin it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, watching as Tom’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?” You smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“For coming home.” He chuckled, kissing his son’s head and then yours.

“You two are my home, no matter where I am.”

                                                         <<<>>>

The morning that the doctors announced they had Theo’s results were nerve wracking to say the least. You were panicking almost all day, knee bouncing, driving Tom insane, your hands shaking out of fear. Tom tried to calm you down to the best of his ability, telling you to take deep breaths, holding you or just your hands and constantly trying to reassure you that you needed to be positive. If not for your own sake, at least for Theo’s.

The boy himself had no idea what was happening, he was just happy to be in his mother’s arms more than he usually was, purely because you refused to let go of him.

“Y/N, you have to put him down,” Tom said, trying to pry the boy from your arms. You pouted, scowling at Tom as he took Theo away from you.

“I’m only taking him to the bathroom, we’ll be right back,” he promised, softly kissing your lips before taking him out of the room. You sat down on the hospital bed with a sigh, picking up his teddy and beginning to fiddle with the ribbon tied into a bow around its neck.

You were too in your own head, thinking, to notice Tom come back. You jumped when his hands slid onto your shoulders, turning your head to see his sympathetic expression.

“I know this is hard, but please, just for him,” you nodded, trying your best to put on a brave face for him.

You spent the next few hours watching one of Theo’s favourite cartoons, one you’d seen a million times before, the time seeming to pass by ridiculously slowly for you. Tom was laughing along to the children’s show, making you roll your eyes and cuddle closer to him. It wasn’t until halfway through, possibly the thousandth episode, that the nurse finally entered the room, saving you the torture of having to watch another episode of the cartoon again.

“We’re ready for you,” she smiled. Tom instructed you to take a few deep breaths.

They led the three of you to an office to discuss, letting you take a seat and having Theo sitting comfortably in his dad’s lap.

It felt like you were in there for hours. You knew you should’ve been listening to what they were saying but you couldn’t concentrate at all.

You were pretty sure the woman had started by explaining the reason Theo had fainted and reacted like he did a few days prior. Everything was falling on deaf ears to you, just sounding like muffled noise coming from another room.

Tom was nodding along with what she was saying, asking the occasional question that let you know that at least he was listening. Your four year old was playing with the loose strings of Tom’s hoodie, wrapping them around his fingers and trying to make them curl. It was unfortunately the only thing he had to amuse him right now. Tom hadn’t noticed you weren’t listening, or that your eyes were focusing on your baby boy.

Theo noticed though, turning to you and flashing you a gappy smile that in return made you smile.

It felt like your heart was pounding but simultaneously wasn’t even beating, in this moment you were too scared to.

They’d obviously brought up something about the test results, Tom suddenly reaching over to take a hold of your hand, kissing the top of Theo’s head for comfort.

Tom’s sweaty hand was gripping yours like a vice, you were glad that he was here and he’d flown in, because if it was bad news, you don’t think you could do it alone.

Your mind went blank, not registering any medical words she said until you recognised the two words that made your heart begin to beat again.

“He’s okay.”

You let out a breath of relief, turning to Tom with a grin. He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a quick hug before showering the little boy in kisses.

You carefully lifted him from Tom’s lap, taking him in your arms to give him the tightest hug you could muster. The doctor explained that you were then free to go, letting you go back to collect your baby's stuff and tell him the good news.

“I hope we never have to do this again,” you mumbled, laying your head on Tom’s chest. His hand came up to run over the back of your head, placing a gentle kiss on your crown. 

“Me too, but look on the Brightside,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, “We got our family back.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head against his chest. “Yeah, I guess we did.” You and Tom both turned your heads to look at your energetic baby boy, happy to finally be allowed to take him home again.

“Are you ready to go home, bub?” you asked. You saw his eyes light up, his head nodding rapidly as he clutched your hand. He grabbed his teddy bear, leaving you and Tom grabbed the rest of his stuff.

The three of you left the hospital for what was hopefully the last time. Theo practically skipped to the car, telling you both how excited he was to sleep in his own bed again. Your heart was warm as you looked at your little family, completely over the moon to have them back.

The first thing Theo did when he got home was rush upstairs to his room, telling you he was going to take a nap in his own bed. You shook your head with a smile, feeling Tom’s arms wrap around you. He guided you to the couch, throwing his arm around your shoulders. He started to look around again like he had the other day, taking it all in.

“It feels really good to be home.” You grinned at him, practically attacking him with a sweet kiss. He laughed, letting you pin him down on the couch playfully. “I still can’t believe I gave this up, he said, pushing a few strands of loose hair behind your ears.

“Don’t think about it now, okay?” He nodded, straining his neck to kiss you again.

“Mummy, daddy?” Your head perked up at the sound of the little voice, turning your head to see him coming down the stairs. You climbed off of Tom, giving him the opportunity to sit up.

“I thought you were taking a nap bub?” He pouted, clutching his bear to his chest.

“Will you come with me, just until I fall asleep?” You nodded your head, not giving Tom a chance to answer before you were tugging him with you. Tom scooped him up, carrying the tired baby in his arms.

“Why don’t we get in Mummy and Daddy’s bed,” you said. Tom tried to conceal his smile at what you’d called it, happy you were so ready for things to go back to how they were.

Theo climbed in your bed first, laying right in the middle with a sleepy grin. You got in after, watching Tom stop to take in how much the room had changed.

“I pretty much got rid of everything that reminded me of you,” you explained. He frowned, nodding his head and climbing under the covers of the bed. “ ‘m sorry,” you said.

He shook his head, grabbed your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“I deserved it,” you giggled, nodding your head. Your eyes were locked on each other.

“You kind of did.” Theo made a sound of disapproval between you both, trying to get you attention to be on him.

“Sorry bub, were we not paying attention to you?” He shook his head, laying it on your chest just under your chin. You smiled, your heart melting at his affection.

“Goodnight angel,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his head. He curled deeper into your chest, a smile spreading across your face.

“Goodnight, little man.” Tom gently ran his hand over the back of Theo’s head, earning a hum in response from the boy.

“You know,” you started, keeping your voice quiet so the boy could sleep, “I’m pretty tired too.” You yawned. Tom threw his arm over you both, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, keeping Theo tucked securely between you two.

He chuckled at your sudden sleepiness, lifting his hand to run through your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep.” You tried to bite back your smile, feeling him shrug his shoulders playfully.

“S’okay, go to sleep.” He smiled, nuzzling his nose into the top of your head.

“Will you be here when we wake up?” you asked, sounding like a scared child.

“I’ll always be here, now and forever baby.”

tom holland taglist - @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @drie-the-derp @bvttercupbby​ @call-me-baby-gir1 @fallinfortom @iwearheadphones @kerrswriting @geminiparkers @blossomparkers @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @musicalkeys​ @itstaskeen​ @icyhollands​ @tpwk-grande​ @zspideyy​ @chrisosterfield​ @starkweasley @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @lowkey-holland​ @hollandcrush​ @wizkiddx​ @sannie-san-shine​ @sonnydoesrandomshit​

[missorgana]

you shine, i'll shine for you

pairing: alina starkov/genya safin, background nina zenik/matthias helvar

fandom: shadow and bone (tv)

rating: general

word count: 5163

warning: referenced cheating, swearing

summary: Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?” (flower shop au)

(a fluffy au that’s been loooong underway !! inspired by this post, naturally. had a bit too much fun searching up flower meanings as well so... hope you enjoy!)

read on ao3

Genya believes flowers speak their own language.

They show love, adoration, and everything in between, and there’s a reason they’re used for most special occasions, she thinks; although a staple gift when you barely know someone, they’re also an invitation to get to know someone better.

Like Nina and Matthias. It didn’t surprise her in the least that he wanted to ask Nina out, alas, he asked Genya for help on the bouquet, since he just started. The look on her friend’s face when she told her about their fast date was too precious.

And naturally, this is why she opened her little flower shop in the first place. She loved the area, homely and cozy, the atmosphere and the residents.

She’s helped their clients with gifts for any situation you could think of; a last minute anniversary gift, flower arrangements for that big fairytale wedding, the perfect Mother’s Day bouquet, and the businessman getting flowers for his beloved sister’s grave touched her deeply.

Genya thought she’d seen it all, until today, where a young person her age rushes through the door and approaches her with a strange question, “What sort of flowers do you get to tell someone to go fuck themselves?”

She’s simply baffled by the request.

The client’s got restless hands and fire in their eyes, dark hair in a braided bun and wearing a baby blue dress, neck and ears dressed with gold jewelry and a matching septum piercing. They’re almost glowing in the late autumn sun, to be completely honest.

In fact, they’re already reaching for their purse, while Genya tries to work through her confusion and do her best - this is an assignment like any other, she reminds herself, this is her job.

“Oh, uh, depends on the occasion, really…” she starts, and since the customer in front of her curses themself as they find their wallet, the clear anger on their face intensifying, she figures she’ll need to keep her cool, “If I may ask?”

In customer service you’ll have to deal with rude clientele, God knows Genya has, and although this person in no way seems like  that type of person, she still keeps it a priority to not upset them anymore than someone else already has.

She smiles, giving them less of her staple customer service smile, more a hesitant smile because the client also sniffs, and wipes their eyes rather stubbornly before looking back at her.

They’re also more beautiful than sunflowers in bloom, that much is obvious. But someone’s hurt them, and it makes Genya’s heart ache for them with a stinging kind of certainty.

“Sure,” they reply, sniffling again, “My boyfriend’s cheated on me for the second time.”

Second time? Dear God.

Genya doesn’t even know this man, but she does know he’s an asshole, mind the language. She’s sure she must look shocked, because the client chuckles bitterly, clutching their wallet a bit tighter.

“I just need him to fuck off for good. It’s long overdue, really.”

She decides to smile again, nodding, hoping she’s conveying her sympathy right, “I understand.”

And since she gets a timid smile back, albeit still with clenched fists down their side, it makes Genya a little more sure of herself again. If the person wasn’t pretty before, they’re even prettier now. She mentally curses whoever this man is for making them this angry, and making them cry. No one deserves that, but especially not them, Genya thinks.

Luckily it’s a Monday, a slow day for flower sales, and they’re the only customer inside, so she’s reaching for her encyclopedia immediately.

“I do know a bit about flower meanings,” she explains to them, “It’s not common knowledge, but I got a few ideas.”

The client nods, satisfied, and their eyes turn a little less angry and more curious.

“What’s your budget?” she asks while flickering through the pages, and the person in front of her takes less than a second to answer, “The biggest you got, he- We were supposed to go to Paris, so I’ve been saving up. Got some money to blow.”

What a fucking douchebag. Again, excuse the language, but this really sounds like the sort of person who’s drink she would gladly spit in. She might be really excited for this bouquet, now. Serves him right.

Everything that jumps to her mind should be in stock, actually. Genya’s never had to look up negative meanings to the flowers before, admittedly, but she does find some scribbled notes in what appears to be Nina’s handwriting next to the black roses.  Revenge roses. Okay, maybe a bit too sinister, but she’ll keep them in mind.

She finds herself moving out behind the counter before she knows it, and when she picks up the first bunch she notices her client looking over her shoulder in an adorable kind of confusion, so Genya speaks up, “These are yellow carnations, they signal disappointment.”

They nod again, the small smile on their lips growing just an inch brighter. Their hands seem more relaxed, she finds herself noticing.

“Perfect,” they approve, “Is there a hate flower, you think?”

The bluntness no longer surprises her, and since the client huffs at themselves, Genya returns the smile with more certainty. Fair enough, she decides.

“Yes, surprisingly enough,” she chuckles, “Orange lilies. I also have foxglove for insincerity?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I thought so,” Genya likes this person, she decides, probably way more than she should for a complete stranger, but… can you blame her? 

She likes the guts it takes to make a bouquet like this, to be honest. And it’s like they keep getting prettier and prettier the more Genya looks at them, is that crazy? Probably. Matthias would roll his eyes at her, but she and Nina both know how cheesy he actually is, so whatever.

This client is also getting a hate bouquet for a soon-to-be-ex, though, so she’s real with herself, she can’t allow herself to get attached or anything. Would be unprofessional, regardless, but she can admire them anyway, right?

“What else, what else…” Genya wanders a bit more, her client following in tow, she’s got the centerpieces, but the white of this flower would add nicely to the overall look, “Meadowsweet! It, uh, it stands for uselessness.”

The person in front of her lights even more up at the suggestion. She’s thrilled, because honestly, not only helping them but also maybe, possibly impressing this client is suddenly very important to her.

“Alright, I think that’ll do nicely,” she finally tells them, writing the names and price ranges down on her notepad. “Unless you want to add some geraniums, too?” The customer looks at the sample she shows them, biting their lip in contemplation.

“It’s beautiful,” they confess.

“It is,” she agrees, “But it also signals stupidity.”

They laugh at that, a ringing sound like bells or… butterfly wings, maybe. This is just about making Genya’s whole week right now.

“Yeah, I need those.”

And so it’s decided, and she returns to her counter with the notes and shows the client the different bouquet sizes. She figures they might need a card, too, “I don’t have any ‘Fuck you’ cards, unfortunately. Will a blank one be alright?”

They nod, more eager than ever.

“Actually,” they’re running their finger over the sheet with the sizes before looking back at Genya again, “I know this is a big ask, but I was gonna leave the bouquet at his office. Do you think… we could, maybe, cover his desk in these flowers?”

Yet another suggestion that has her standing wide-eyed.

The client chuckles at themself again and fumbles a strand of hair behind their ear, “I’ll pay whatever it costs, I promise. If it’s even possible, that is.”

Genya considers this, and well, it’s definitely possible, they’ve got enough stock for it. The same thing as decorating a chapel for a wedding, sort of, but on a smaller scale. It’s doable.

“I do think my delivery guy can carry it, actually,” she replies, hoping Matthias won’t ask too many questions, but oh well, “We would need entry to the building, though-”

“I have the keys.”

“Oh.”

This person is well prepared. Genya loves it.

“It’s just really a matter of how many bouquets will be needed…” she’s thinking hard, an office cubicle is what she imagines the client is talking about, not too hard to fill up, realistically, “20? Will that be plenty?”

They full-on grin, “God, yes. Make it 22. I, uh, I got cash.”

And so it’s sorted, and a promise of scheduling the delivery for Wednesday, said soon-to-be-ex’s next work day, is settled. Matthias delivers the flowers a little before 8, the customer lets him in and they carry the load together, foolproof plan, Genya’s sure. “This is his number, Matthias Helvar, if you have any trouble, running late or getting into the building, whatever it may be.”

“Thank you so much for this, seriously,” they’re smiling almost from ear to ear, and honestly, she’s a little embarrassed that making this particular person as happy as they appear to be is making her feel so… warm? “This is perfect. I cannot wait to see his face. And walk away.”

It’s a funny sort of bonding experience, or feels like it, less than a transaction. 

Before the client leaves, Genya gets their contact information in return, and an excited wave as the doorbell rings them out. Alina Starkov, the card says, and she/they pronouns right underneath.

She wonders if she’ll ever see them again. She doubts it. But she hopes she’s wrong.

*

Genya does, in fact, see a particular client again, one that for some reason stays on her mind after the delivery is done and in the five weeks till she sees them again, embarrassingly enough.

Matthias didn’t ask a lot of questions, besides the wide eyes and then looking the happiest she’s seen him since Nina kissed him for the first time. He didn’t need convincing, to put it simply.

“Whoever this Alina is, they got some guts,” he laughed to her while they were packaging all those flowers for him, “Practically covered our expenses for the month.”

That’s true, it’s lovely, that pure luck that sometimes hits them like a flood.

She’s over the moon, but of course, she doesn’t mention the part of it being because of that person’s bright smile replacing dried tear stains, and how the change made Genya feel like she’s never done anything more important than making her happy. God, Safin, Nina is rubbing off on you.

The boy lets her know the delivery went smoothly, and that Alina thanked him profusely, but that’s as much as she knows before the bell rings on a late Thursday and Nina’s voice calls from the front of house and reaches to the back where Genya is currently cutting stems.

She dries off her hands in their signature lavender apron - credit to Nina for that, as well - you’d be surprised how dirty a day’s work can get, and Genya takes care not to ruin any of her many, many floral dresses. Yes, she wears florals only to work. Once again, sue her.

She’s not sure why her friend would need assistance, she rarely asks for it, yet, there she stands.

Alina Starkov gives her a smile once again, but it’s less timid today, in no way tearful, instead calm and curious. Like they’re happy to see her, almost.

“Genya! Hi!” she says, and she’s more than a little surprised, much like their first meeting. Did she ever introduce herself? “Sorry, I hope I’m not disturbing, I, uh, I told Nina how grateful I am for your help with you-know-who. Wanted to thank you in person.”

That’s just way too adorable, isn’t it?

She feels her smile growing without even controlling it, and the brunette next to her is definitely looking like she wants to ask some questions ( many  questions), but she’ll have to wait, geez, Genya cannot be having a romance novel moment in her store of all places.

Realising she also has to collect herself while being in front of the client and her best friend, and not zone out because her inner hopeless romantic is firing up inside her, she decides to brush it off and try to act casual, somehow, “I’m just happy to help. I assume it went as planned, then?” “Better than planned, even. He’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life, I hope.”

Alina laughs, and Genya gets that warm flush inside her chest again. And out of the corner of her eye, Nina looks less curious and more just straight up smug. Damn her.

“I think Matthias is calling me,” is actually how Nina first speaks up, and while the client nods, like they’re away in thought, Genya sees right through her.

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You didn’t?” her friend questions, tilting her head, already moving towards the door Genya just came through, “Oh, I did. Can’t leave him hanging, might be urgent.”

“Nina-”

“Back in a jiffy!”

She’s left alone with Alina. Which is fine, you know, they were alone when they first met, right- but listen, Genya is still very much thinking about the person saying her name and the realization that she is, of course, wearing a name tag hits simultaneously with another shock: she  remembered her name.

Logically, that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Gosh.

But she knows it’s not because it’s a shocking experience and more that a person who’s as beautiful as them is smiling at her and that they might just be the prettiest person she’s ever seen and that the thought of making her happy is making Genya happy, believe it or not. She doesn’t understand why this is different from any of her other experiences, but it is.

She hasn’t seen a smile like theirs before, that she knows. It makes her feel all strange and bubbly, like drinking champagne.

However, Alina is speaking up again, so Genya desperately needs to get out of her head.

“I was actually… uh, wondering if you’re maybe able to help me out again?” she starts, looking a tiny bit nervous, “If you’re not busy, that is, oh my God.”

And maybe Genya shakes her head way too quickly, but sue her, “Not at all!”

The client grins, the blush in their cheeks surely must be from the cold wind outside, and it just makes them prettier, if that’s even possible. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Now, she’s gotten this nickname before. Of course those times weren’t from Alina, and she makes sure to hide just how flustered she’s becoming, shaking her head and swinging her hand, “Stop it. I’ll try my best, heh.”

Alina clears her throat before continuing, “My best friend’s coming home, I haven’t seen him in over a year, and… Do you have, like, friendship flowers? I wanna surprise him at the airport.”

Once again, the person in front of her is just downright adorable. It’s almost frustrating.

Genya chuckles, because she doesn’t need the encyclopedia for this request, and easily makes her way over to the roses.

The client looks over the bouquet she picks up with the very same joy as their first meeting. “Yellow rose is  the friendship flower, actually! Usually put together with violets, but I can change it up if you want…?”

“No no no!” they hastily reply, already taking the offer of grabbing the bundle, looking down upon it with visible dimples and eyes shimmering with excitement, “They’re perfect. Mal’s gonna love them, I know it!”

“Ah, I hope so.”

She feels almost shy with all this flattery coming her way, especially from Alina, of course, and once more she thanks her just about five hundred times before hurrying out the shop, phone chiming in the distance.

Even after they’ve left, Genya still cannot believe they came back. And remembered her. Or like, specifically sought out her help, again. Huh.

Nina immediately peeks her head around the corner when the front door has shut, her face lit up like it’s Christmas Eve, “They seemed nice. And pretty.”

“Nina,” is all she can come up with, giving her best glare, while her best friend feigns innocence.

“Yes, Genya?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

She sighs, “Just don’t.”

*

If Genya’s second encounter with Alina Starkov wasn’t surprising enough already, imagine her shock when she finds exactly this person entering her shop two months later. Events requiring flowers aren’t constant, which, again, is why she didn’t expect to see her ever again, but she’s not complaining, of course.

She’s working the counter when the door opening reveals Alina, their golden earrings present as always and her hair in two buns, wearing a cropped rainbow sweater and dungarees. Looking just as pretty as last time she saw them, oh God, that fluster’s coming right back.

Except she’s not alone this time. Alina’s got a taller stranger in tow, with curly hair, lip ring and pink floral shirt layered over possibly the most ridiculous graphic tee Genya’s ever laid her eyes upon.

Her recurring client waves when they spot her, heading straight to her, while their friend is almost spinning around in awe.

“Hello again,” Genya greets her, because fuck, she might just get excited over the mere sight of them. Meeting again. Is the universe trying to tell her something?

It’s an absurd thought that shouldn’t matter at all, get yourself together, she tells herself.

“Hi!” They seem even more excited than last time she saw them, and Genya wonders what the occasion could be before Alina continues, “How’ve you been?”

There’s that funny feeling again.

It’s kind of like a lump in her throat, this time, but still as bubbly and warm as before. It’s also just endearing for many different reasons, one being that she rarely gets customers twice, or thrice, and casual conversation is never as easy as theirs. She’s overthinking it, definitely.

“Busy, but good,” Genya tells her, and is about to return it, while remembering their companion, “You? And sorry, ah, I’m Genya.”

Alina’s eyes are like fireworks, almost, and she waves over her friend who’s entranced by the lilies. They’ve got a spring in their step as they make it over to them.

“This is Jesper,” they introduce them, and the tall stranger winks in greeting, “Jesper, this is Genya. I told him all about the shop, cause you’re like… the queen of flowers.”

Oh my God, why is she so sweet? It almost makes her feel embarrassed, the two of them looking at her as she imagines a blush rising just from the client’s words.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Right back at ya!” he replies, one hand in his pocket and another gesturing wildly in the air, “This is amazing, by the way. I see why Alina goes to you for stuff like this.”

Genya laughs, feeling strangely more comfortable and less nervous now. Still, she figures she should probably get to business, they wouldn’t have come here if they didn’t have a purchase in mind, right? As much as the compliments are much appreciated, Alina being the source of them is yet again making her slightly incapable of functioning normally. 

She can only hope she’s improved at hiding crushes since high school, because, well… that is what this is. Genya can’t really lie to herself anymore, or pretend it’s nothing.

It’s making her slightly breathless, this person appearing and reappearing in her life.

But she does need to get over it, because as she tells herself every time, Alina is a customer and she is a salesperson. Her life isn’t a rom-com, as tragic as that may be.

“I hope your friend liked the flowers,” she said, not even needing to wait for a response as they lit up again and confirmed, dimpled smile and all, “Can I help you with anything today?”

Alina nods and hooks her arm with Jesper, “You know it. Friends of ours just got engaged, we wanna have a, uh… tiny celebration for them.”

“By that we mean surprise the shit out of them,” he follows with no hesitation, and Genya and Alina laugh, in syncron. Alright, that’s also totally fine.

“I’m sure we can figure something out for that,” she tells them. She figures flower meanings are less necessary this time around, and when she spots the bottle of champagne and heart shaped box in the client’s tote bag, she decides on a simple question, “Well, red roses are the classic. Most romantic. Do they have any favorite flowers or colors, and such?”

Jesper seems to be squinting in concentration, and Alina bites their lip. It’s quite endearing.

But the client’s eyes widen, then, and they blurt out with only a beat difference, “Pink!”

It comes out as a half-yell, actually, judging by the sweet elderly woman from down the block jumping in the other end of the shop, and Matthias nearly dropping the bunch of tulips he’s carrying onto the back of his bike wagon. The two look awfully apologetic during it all.

“Inej’s favorite color,” Alina explains with an embarrassed giggle, ducking their head, “It’s pink.”

Genya nods, “I see. How about… pink and white lilies, then?”

Jesper seems to smile in approval. “I like that. See, I would’ve just gone with pink roses.”

She gives them a sample, which they both seem pleased with, she hopes so at least, while chuckling once more at his statement, “Could work as well. But these are popular for gifts, they symbolise admiration.”

Her (favorite) client scrunches her nose with as big a grin as hers, already made up their mind, “I think she’ll love them.” And Genya, of course, feels a massive honor in helping them. Again. She can’t believe Alina’s come back two times. Gosh, she’s thinking too much.

“I’ll write these up for you, then,” she tells them while they’re already following her to the counter. At the same time, Jesper’s got furrowed brows in a thinkful sort of face, and Genya doesn’t really know if this is directed to Alina or herself, nevertheless he wonders aloud, “Not sure what my favorite flower is. You got one, Alina?”

“Duh,” the shorter person answers, without hesitation, “Sunflower. Everyone’s got one, right?

Sunflower .

In her mind, nothing else has made as much sense as this. This was the flower she first associated her client with, what their beauty could only be compared with. They shine, so much it’s near blinding Genya, at this point. Yes, she knows it’s cheesy, but it’s only in her head, after all.

Genya realises this question, however, is very much meant for her, and so she answers while typing in their total, bouquet already wrapped up to go, “I think so, yeah. I think your favorite means a lot for you, as a person.”

The taller man seems to consider this.

Then, “I like daffodils.”

“They mean rebirth,” she tells him, “Good choice.”

He looks pleased by her explanation. Alina seems to be the one deep in thought now, though, in fact, they’ve already paid and got the bunch in hand, Jesper saluting Genya in goodbye when the client asks, “What’s your favorite?”

As many times before, they never cease to surprise her, do they?

“My favorite flowers?”

She nods.

“Magnolias,” Genya needs no time to consider this, it’s easy, “Perseverance.”

Alina’s got her wide grin again, but… it changes, a little bit. It’s almost secretive. Promising. Regardless, Genya doesn’t know what to do with her thoughts about it, or the client bidding them their own farewell with, “Till next time!”

She’s quite sure this person will be the death of her, sooner or later.

And as if they could read her mind, Nina and Matthias appear at her side, the man’s arms crossed and her best friend’s arm around his waist, both looking at Genya like they could somehow dig into her brain and know all her secrets. They’re so annoying sometimes. When they’re not adorable. Mostly annoying, though.

“What are you two looking at?” she asks them, and the couple exchange a look before Nina grins.

“They asked for your favorite flower,” she says, her boyfriend nodding in agreement. Genya doesn’t know what to say.

“I know.”

Matthias cocks a brow, “You do?”

She scoffs in disbelief at whatever game they have going on, “Yes?”

Her best friend sighs and puts her free on her shoulder. She tilts her head, “Matthias asked for my favorite before our first date.”

Genya frowns. “I know.”

Nina then chuckles, because they’re both weird and wonderful at the same time, apparently, “You’re impossible.”

“I know what you’re suggesting, Nin,” she then says, because come on, it’s obvious what they’re implying. And it’s bullshit. It was just a question, you know? It must’ve been. Curiosity, that’s all. “But  that  is impossible.”

And because Nina’s looking at her in disbelief, she tilts her head in return, and her friend gives up on the staring contest soon enough. “Whatever you say, babe.”

*

As Genya expected, although much to her disappointment, it seems she won’t see anymore of her beautiful client with raven hair and smile like the sun itself, tragically.

It’s her own fault, really, getting… a bit too attached. She’s fine!

Of course Nina and Matthias are right about her crush, she already knew this. And a month after their last meeting, she admitted defeat just so they could get off her ass about it. Now, though, her best friend looks at her with a sad smile sometimes, like she can sense the disappointment that Alina’s presence is missing entirely from the shop.

They don’t have anything requiring flowers, she didn’t expect them to, all the time. And like, asking for Genya’s favorite flower didn’t mean anything, as her friends kept insisting. They were having a conversation. Customer and shop owner.

Why does she miss her? God, Genya needs to get a grip. It’s just a bit annoying, because she doesn’t feel bubbly and light anymore without Alina Starkov, and she still loves her job,  of course , but maybe she does find herself a little bit jealous when the wedding season kicks in and the boutique is full of couples day in and day out, young and old, all looking at each other like no flower can compare to their love. It’s making her a little nauseous, not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

Strangely enough, she does get a visit from a couple, a grumpy fellow and a woman with a soft smile, who never let go of each other’s hands while Genya sketched out ideas for the flower arrangement. They wanted geraniums. She somehow recalled her name: Inej Ghafa. And Kaz Brekker. Huh.

Matthias’ birthday passes, where Nina gets him cornflowers (of course), and a month later yet, a familiar face returns when Jesper stumbles in the door in excitement, eagerly purchasing a bouquet of irises for his boyfriend.

Even her mom’s in love, she tells her over the phone, and God, she’s happy for them all. Maybe Genya’s just been lonely too long.

She hadn’t even thought of dating in forever. Hadn’t thought of being single could possibly bore her, or tire her. Until, you know. Alina.

Whatever, whatever!

She’ll get over her stupid infatuation, eventually, she just needs to focus on her work, it was just a string of coindences, and once wedding season is over she’ll forget all about her favorite client who got away. Hopefully.

The universe has way, way different plans for her, though, apparently, because as she and Nina lock up for the evening, Matthias helping them carry the last load of a busy day even though this is technically his off-day (probably an excuse to be with his girlfriend even more, she suspects, but hey), Genya stops in her tracks in the parking lot.

The couple a few steps in front of her appear totally unfazed. They must know what’s going on.

And her suspicion is right, because Nina’s grinning from ear to ear when she looks back at her, “You okay, Gen?”

Genya blinks in disbelief.

Her car. It’s completely covered in… in  magnolias.  She can barely see any trace of her car, in fact, if it wasn’t for the lights blinking when she unlocked it.

What the hell is going on?

She’d had a rather normal day, busy but normal, and scheduled to drive back home to her mom for her birthday early tomorrow. But this is strange. Unreal. Not necessarily in a bad way, the flowers’ smell reaches her all the way over here, but just strange.

Matthias cocks his head and grabs Nina’s hand, “Aren’t you gonna look at your gift?”

“My… my gift?” she asks him, not sure what to say anymore. They definitely had a hand in this. “You already gave me gifts yesterday,” she tells them, dumbfounded.

Her best friend rolls her eyes, “It’s not from us, dummy.” “Who’s it from, then?”

“Shh! That’s a surprise.”

“Nina,” she warns, feeling the exhaustion take over her ever so quickly.

The brunette kisses her cheek and then tugs at her boyfriend’s arm towards her own car. Matthias winks. Screw them.

“Take a look!” they yell to her.

Well… okay then. Genya approaches her car slowly, only a little scared someone’ll jump out from the mountain of pink flowers and scare her half to death. Of course, this isn’t a prank, because her friends are bad at pranks, and the magnolias are so gorgeous she may be getting a little teary eyed.

These little ones reminded her to keep going, when she was at her lowest. It’s stupid, but she felt like she could overcome anything, learning the flower’s meaning and finding a blossom outside of her window back then, like a little reminder from the universe. That’s why they're her favorite. Perseverance.

Bugger, she should probably get started on digging her vehicle out from somewhere in there. Except… her eyes fall upon a little pink card, secured on the wiper. And on it, her name is written, in cursive, gold letters.

Her curiosity takes over, of course it bloody does, and she picks up the card immediately, and when she flips it over…

Is this a fever dream?

Happy early birthday, Genya Safin. Call me? Sincerest wishes (and apologies for the car, grand gesture), Alina Starkov.

This is most definitely a fever dream. Except the card is very real in her hands, and the smell of the magnolias embrace her like a warm hug, and her friends honk as they leave the lot, laughing audible even with the windows all the way up.

Alina’s phone number is written at the bottom, underlined and everything, with a tiny heart next to it.

A grand gesture. A grand romantic gesture, at that. Genya cannot for the life of her stop smiling, big and in shock and flushed and excitement flowing through her veins.

They remembered.

[ttorystory]

Mare of Easttown 1x05 Fix it Fic

tv show: Mare of Easttown

pairing: Colin Zabel x Mare Sheehan

spoilers: ep 5 - Illusions

summary: No one except the bad motherf*cker gets killed because we live in a happier world where killing Evan Peter's adorable character is illegal. We can hurt him a lil' bit though. Because we like to suffer-- or at least I do. I'm so sorry. But it's for the bOnDinG reasons, you know.

warnings: shooting, blood, swearing, Colin's cute smile

word count: 1,086

A/N: OH MY GOD, IT'S HAPPENING. I've written my first ever fanfic in English. So it's like, elementary school level of English for which I apologize in advance. BUT I strongly encourage you to let me know about any and every one of my mistakes so I can fix them right away! It'll get better in the next chapters, I promise (I hope). Yes, I do plan a few more chapters. I mean, this is really just a short one, because I wanted to write an ending that episode should have had. But I wanna see Mare visiting Colin in hospital. I wanna see their second date. I wanna see Colin having the future he deserves.

Okay, so that would be all from me for now. If you decide to comment, whether in a positive or a negative way, I will be very grateful. Thank you and enjoy the fic.

“Mare.”

She turns her head towards the quiet call and glances over the table. In a pile of unwashed mugs and other garbage, there is an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a half-empty pack.

Winstons.

This place is stinking from the very start and her suspicion is growing with every passing second.

“Zabel,” she whispers, reaching to her belt and reminding him there is nothing there, as she is officially still suspended. “No gun.”

It is a signal that it is he who has to be prepared if anything goes down with the odd guy. Her gaze follows the direction he’d gone, awaiting the music to stop. But her colleague quietly addresses her again.

“Mare.”

His hand outstretched, he is handing her his gun. Mare hesitates for a second, but there isn’t much time to discuss the topic, so she just takes it and hides it under her jacket quickly.

Besides, Mare knows it is a good move. She trusts Zabel and she knows he is capable, but he doesn’t have that much experience. God knows if he ever actually used the gun out in the field before. In some situations, it’s either you or the other man, and if you wanna survive you have to act quickly. And this situation? She has a bad fucking feeling about it.

Her intuition is proven right when only minutes later the bastard, Mr. Potts, shoots Zabel. He would have killed him on the spot if she didn’t shoot the man at the exact same time, diverting the bullet.

After a few endless minutes of shooting and fighting, Potts finally drops dead. Mare sinks down to her knees, panting. Those poor girls are screaming upstairs but she knows they can wait a little longer, now there is nothing to cause them any more harm. There is a person though who needs more acute help.

“Zabel!”

Her colleague is half lying on the floor, half leaning on a cupboard, squeezing his left shoulder and shaking. Mare hurries to him, taking her jacket off so she can cover him partially.

“Zabel, it’s over. Help's on the way, okay?”

She takes off her shirt as well and tries to tie it around his shoulder somehow so that the wound would stop bleeding. Zabel groans in pain but holds still.

“You’re hurt,” he says softly, panting.

Mare gives her bleeding wrist a quick look. The adrenaline running in her veins caused her to forget the injury. There is probably some small wound on her face as well, but it is nothing compared to the risk Zabel is exposed to at the moment.

“Yeah, well, you’re more hurt. Keep the pressure here,” she says, pressing his palm onto the coverage of the wound. The bleeding seems bad, but the bullet didn't hit any important organ. The police and ambulance will be here in no time. He should be fine. He has to be.

“I knew why-- why I was giving you-- the gun,” Zabel continues through the pain, his eyes looking and their hands pressed on his shoulder.

“Well, there’s gonna be a shitload of paperwork about this mess,” she smirks gloomily. Two officers - one of them off duty - injured, one dead weirdo, two missing girls being held in the attic. Mare brushes some hair away from her face, checking if there is blood on her fingers. This might be the first time she is kinda glad she is suspended.

“Mare, you-- you saved--”

Even though trying to say something, Zabel’s head starts falling to a side as his eyes are slowly about to close. Mare grabs him by the chin immediately.

“Hey, hey, eyes up! Stay with me, Zabel! The ambulance is here in a minute!” she orders, the tone of her voice urgent, while still holding his chin and trying to keep his gaze focused on her face.

A smile appears on the young man’s face.

“‘course I wanna stay with you… Mare.”

She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes in disbelief. “You’re being smooth now?”

That adorable, boy-like smile of his. Giving it to her even while basically fighting the loss of consciousness. What a dumbo. Her lips curl into a faint smile, too.

Glancing away, Mare realizes that girls who had been silent for a while are making hell of a noise again. And she knows why right away - there are police and ambulance sirens roaring nearby, approaching them finally.

Mare moves herself closer to the door so she can kick it more open. Swiftly she returns back to her colleague, whose head and hand are falling, obviously tired, again.

“They’re here, Zabel. You gotta hold on,” she urges him, one hand pressed on his wound, the other slapping his face slightly. She can hear several vehicles stopping outside of the house.

“Look at me, Zabel. Zabel! Colin!”

He mumbles something right just as the police officers and paramedics burst inside and the room around Mare starts to fill up.

Someone helps her to her feet, other people are taking care of Colin. She hears names and ranks, she tells them theirs, and then they are taking her outside, but she has one more important thing to say.

“There’re girls... they’re locked upstairs!” she shouts to the officers, turning backward partially. “Katie! Katie Bailey and…”

“That’s okay, ma’am, they’ll look into it,” a paramedic assures her, as he is guiding her to the ambulance. Mare sees Colin lying on the medical stretches, being taken to the vehicle alongside her.

“You okay?” she asks when he is next to her, even though he is lying with an oxygen mask over his face and eyes barely opened. She looks at the other paramedic. “Will he be fine?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Don’t you fucking dare dying, Zabel!” she says warningly. She thinks she hears him murmur an answer and it calms her down a bit. He just can’t die. He won’t.

She sits where the paramedic tells her to and she lets him treat injuries, not listening to what he is saying to her.

People around her should stop fucking dying.

“Maybe you should lie down?” the man suggests.

“I’m fine.”

He’ll be fine as well. He has to be. They’ll take care of his shoulder and he’ll get through it.

She spots an officer coming up to her. She knows her, it’s Sergeant Diane Gibbson from this district.

Fuck, she’ll even go on another date with him if he asks.

Sergeant nods in greeting.

“Mare.”

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #29/116

#29- Look at me/# 116. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Aaron crossed the line of objectivity somewhere between Morgan screaming his name through the bullpen, and listening to Benjamin Cyrus unleash his wrath on Emily two days later. He clenched a set of headphones with shaking hands and a surge of rage coiling deep in his chest and coursing through his veins. He can’t bring himself to think of it, knowing it’s partly his fault in the first damn place for sending her and Reid there.

It wouldn’t be the only line that’s been crossed in the months since his divorce papers were finalized, and what happened before and after the disaster that was New York City. It happened once, until it happened twice, and before long it was happening whenever they could sneak a few hurried moments. It was never supposed to happen but it did, and it adds an entirely different layer of complications. Despite their best intentions, those complications are now starting to creep into their work on what seems like an all too regular basis. It can’t happen, but it keeps happening.

The aftermath of New York left him uncomfortably vulnerable like never before. Kate’s death rocked him, and it was Emily’s patience and quiet concern that kept him from spiraling out of control. He blamed himself; he felt responsible for not being able to save her from bleeding out on a Midtown street. It was Emily’s quiet whispers in the dark in the days after that reminded him sometimes, we can’t win them all.

Now it’s his turn in a game they never asked to play, a turning of the tables.

“We gotta go in,” he’d said to Dave, trying and failing to conceal the anger in his tone. It’s the only option while not being an option at all; one that will only bring a negative outcome. He knows that, but objectivity is a myth at this point.

“We’d be risking the lives of everybody in there.” Dave had been annoyingly rational and the picture of calm throughout the entire hellish experience. His suspicions are abundantly clear, even if he’s tight lipped and completely neutral. He’d seen what happened shortly after New York and in Ohio, and Dave has been around long enough to know how these things go. So he stays close to Aaron, leads the hostage negotiation response and never wavers once over the course of the few days that seemingly never end.

With whatever degree of composure Aaron has left - the rest of it waned as the time in Colorado dragged on - he blindly follows Dave across the grounds towards the explosion and flames. Swarms of people emerge from the burning building in varying states of duress. The Colorado police attempt to triage survivors and maintain some semblance of order. Aaron barely hears them, because as the space between them closes, he has to pull himself together.

They’re okay, thank God, despite being bruised, dirty, and exhausted. The extent of their injuries will be confirmed in the coming hours, but his initial inspection is one of immediate relief. “Are you alright?” He asks, and both nod even as though his question is directed at her, a secret they’re both all too aware of.

“Yeah,” Emily manages, dazed and confused, her face a canvas of purple and red splotches in the shape of angry fists. Up close, it’s clear whatever she suffered at the hands of Benjamin Cyrus will remain for awhile, on the inside and out. Aaron swallows, and resists the urge to move closer to her. Hugging her would make all of this too real, a confirmation of their closely guarded secret. So he settles on a quick nod of his head before turning back to Reid, who looks just a little more shaken up than Aaron is comfortable with. Sooner rather than later they’ll have to give their statements; he’ll learn the rest of the details in due time. For now, there are other concerns. “Everyone from the compound is accounted for?”

“Torres said all but one,” Morgan says ruefully with a heaviness in his voice. “Nothing we could have done.”

Watching Emily limp toward the girl’s grieving mother is enough to make his stomach churn. It’s a minimal loss, but a loss nonetheless - one they were never going to win at all, and the rest of them avert their eyes as the woman wails in Emily’s arms. From over Mrs. Evanson’s shoulder, Aaron meets her gaze, not even bothering to hide the relief spreading on his face.

With the scene almost cleared and his standard level of gravitas fully returned, Aaron demands they be taken to the hospital. It’s the tone of his voice that tells them both not to argue; it’s not a request but an order. There’s a passing glance between Emily and Reid, one that tells him everything he needs to know - that whatever happened in that compound - the things he didn’t hear, is something they’ll always carry, some twisted bond between then. It’s a sobering reminder of how lucky they got, how different this could have turned out, one that keeps him all but silent as he follows the ambulances to the hospital. There’s still work to be done and calls to make - all of that can be done from the waiting room and on the flight home.

It’s the first time he’s been in a hospital since New York; it’s an experience he could have done without. Aaron is grateful it’s relatively quiet at 4:30 AM; luckily Emily and Reid are seen by doctors almost immediately. But there’s nothing quite like the eerie stillness of a hospital, with nothing but the occasional alarm or PA announcement for company, and he finds himself staring at his watch and then the clock on the wall with a frustrated sigh.

“It’s only been a half hour, Hotch” Morgan reminds him patiently without even looking up from the three day old newspaper in his hands. “It’s gonna be awhile.”

Morgan is right, he thinks, holding the pen in his hand a little tighter.

...

Almost two hours after she disappeared with the exhausted but kind nurse, Aaron cautiously pushes open the door of the exam room, not knowing what he’ll find. She’s perched uncomfortably on the rickety bed, all bandaged and stitched, the dirt cleaned off her face. Still, it doesn’t quite hide the damage; the blood still stains her clothes and the pungent odor of smoke still lingers in the air.

“Well?” He asks expectantly, resisting the urge to reach for the discharge papers that sit on the small tray next to the bed.

“A broken cheekbone, bruised eye, some bruised rib and some stitches.” Emily runs through the list of her injuries as if reading a grocery list or something equally casual. The wince on her face when she moves a little too quickly is her giveaway that it’s a bit more than that.

“Bruised?” He challenges with a lifted eyebrow. No fucking way.

“Fine,” she concedes, biting her bottom lip. “Two fractured. Several bruised. All sore.”

The look on his face must give him away, because she smiles warily, as if she doesn’t quite believe her own words. “It looks a lot worse than it is, Aaron.” She’s putting on a brave front he can see right through, no matter how much she tries to hide it.

“Bullshit,” Aaron snaps back, just a little too harshly. “If I knew -”

“I heard you almost took out the Colorado Attorney General.” Emily says under her breath, even though they’re out of earshot. “When did that happen?” She looks almost amused, and it feels like a distant memory after the endless drag of the previous hours.

“When he was threatening to obstruct a federal investigation.”

“Sounds like I missed a lot,” she quips with a slightly wry grin, one that emphasizes the swelling of her face. “You’ll have to fill me in.”

“I’d rather not,” he says, and for the first time since their rescue, he brushes his knuckles across a small stripe of untouched skin on her cheek.

“Not here, Aaron,” Emily’s face reddens. “Please.”

“I wanted to go in,” he says a little too quickly. “To get you both. I couldn’t … listening to what -“

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Emily picks at the seam of the bandage on her arm, effectively cutting him off. “That would have compromised the whole operation.”

“I know.” He doesn’t care.

She folds her arms stubbornly and looks away, as if disappointed by his confession, his lack of objectivity. He takes it as a cue to leave, turning on his heel with a scrape of his shoe. “I’ll go check on Reid. I’m … it’s … “ he searches for words but they don’t quite materialize.

“Me too,” Emily says quietly before falling silent.

There will be time for talking later.

...

He shows up at her hotel room door, and even though she’s expecting him (she has been for awhile now),and she almost laughs at the irony of how the tables have turned in just weeks. It sends an ache through her chest, one that she’ll soon be used to. According to the ER doctor, it’ll take weeks for her ribs to heal. Now she sees the full extent of the burden of the last few days - the slight droop of his shoulders, the shadow of exhaustion leaving a pallor on his face.

“What’s so funny?” Aaron snaps, his jaw clenched tightly as he pushes past her, closing the door on his way. “Two of my agents almost got killed today.”  He doesn’t remind her that she is one of the two.

Well, okay then, Emily thinks with a huff, taking note of the fact he’s still wearing his button down shirt, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. How long has he been in these clothes?  “Did you show up to chastise me, Aaron, or is there a point?” She can’t hide the annoyance in her own voice. She’s just as cranky as he is, desperately in need of some food, and something tells her this hotel bed won’t be kind to her throbbing ribs.

He’s studying her, assessing the damage he can see, and what he can’t. “Show me,” he says, his voice simultaneously soft and firm. It’s not a request but not quite a demand, as if he’s not prepared to see what’s there. And yet, she knows he won’t leave until he gets what he came for.

“You already- “ she attempts.

“Emily.” This time his voice cracks just a little. “Please.”

With a soft sigh and roll of her eyes, she lifts the hem of the oversized shirt she’s wearing. It’s one of his - he notices for the first time - and peels away the wraps and bandages she’s acquired, like some kind of fucked up armor. Aaron takes it all in - every bruise, scrape, and stitch - each a reminder of his self-imposed culpability. His touch is gentle, overwhelmingly so, as he surveys each wound with defeat.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” His face is lined with unrelenting guilt, all consuming and real. “I shouldn’t have ever signed off on this. None of this would have happened.”

No, she thinks. “Look at me, Aaron” Emily says calmly, her voice steady with reason and logic as she shakes her head resoundingly. “I’m fine.” She pauses, running a hand through her hair. “Reid is fine too. It’ll take him a little while … to forgive himself,” she adds. “He blames himself. He shouldn’t, but he does.” Her assessment of him succinctly accurate, laced with compassion for him. She knows his mind like she knows her own. “But he got lucky today. We both did. You did all the right things. Sometimes … it just doesn’t go our way.”

“Hasn’t been going our way as of late , has it?”

He’s right. It’s been a shitty few months to say the least. Emily laughs softly, and when he wraps her into his embrace, carefully, she rests her weary head against his chest, it finally feels as if this whole miserable experience is over.

“There’s always tomorrow,” she says, voice muffled by his shirt. She doesn’t have to ask if he’s staying the night; it’s all but a given.

“When we get back,” Aaron murmurs, his chin tucked protectively over her head. “You still owe me that dinner you promised.”

She smiles even though he can’t see it. “Deal.”

[suttttton]

The Mage of the Castle and the Mage of the Cavern

Written for Febuwhump, Day 3: Imprisonment

***

The guards come for Jon while he’s sleeping, and it’s only when he is gagged and bound and slung over one of their shoulders, being carried down an endless staircase, that he starts to stir. Even then, awareness comes to him slowly, his mind sluggish. It won’t occur to him until much later that he has been drugged.

Still, Jon does eventually realize what’s happening. He fights against his captor’s grip, but the man’s arms are strong and unyielding. Good thing, too—Jon realizes belatedly that breaking his captor’s hold on him would only lead to a bad fall and bruises for him.

“He’s awake,” the man carrying him grunts.

“Stay sharp,” a second voice answers. Jon looks up, and there is a second guard walking behind them. The staircase is dimly lit, but Jon can just make out Jonah’s crest prominently displayed on her uniform.

Jon tries to ask her what’s happening, where they’re taking him and why. But his words are hopelessly muffled by the gag in his mouth.

The woman’s mouth crooks into a smile. “Told you the gag was a good idea.”

The man shifts Jon on his shoulder. “I still think we should have followed our orders exactly.”

Orders? What orders? From who? These guards are wearing Jonah’s crest, but surely their ‘orders’ didn’t come from him. They must be traitors, then, or, or spies. Taking him hostage, to be held for ransom.

(Or tortured. Or killed. Jonah has plenty of enemies who might want to enact vengeance by harming his beloved.)

Jon doesn’t let himself think of that. Instead, he focuses on taking in as many details as he can. It’s not an encouraging sign that the guards chose not to hide their faces, but Jon resolves to make them regret that fact. He’ll escape this, make it back to Jonah.

(How did they get him out of Jonah’s private rooms? How did they get past Jonah’s wards? Is Jonah alright, is he safe?)

It doesn’t matter. Jon has to believe that Jonah is fine. There’s no point in keeping Jon, otherwise. Unless—No. Jon refuses to waste his energy on idle fantasies. He watches the guards. He watches the stone walls, twisting down deeper and deeper into the ground. He counts their steps, and when he loses count he counts the torch sconces on the walls. When he loses count of those, he pays attention to the quality of the stone, which is getting less and less impressive as they go deeper.

They reach a door, and the guard holding Jon lets go with one arm to open it. The door is bolted shut with a beam of heavy iron, and the second guard has to help him lift it. Dread pools in Jon’s stomach as they carry him into the room.

It’s a vast cavern, dimly lit, although not by any natural means. It’s largely empty, nothing but a stone floor and blank stone walls. At the center of the room is a massive rock, with two iron shackles connected to it by long chains.

Jon fights the guards as they attach the chains—his pride will allow nothing else—but he knows it’s fruitless. Either of the guards could handle him on their own, and there are two of them. They untie his hands, and the woman holds him down easily as the other places the shackles on his wrists.

Only when he’s so restrained do they untie his feet, allowing him to stand. And then… They leave him there, chained to the rock. The door closes behind them, and he hears the iron bar swing down with a loud thunk.

He’s alone. Still gagged, more trapped than he was before. His breath begins to come faster as he starts to panic. He doesn’t know why he’s here, he doesn’t know what to do, he—

No. Panicking is not going to help. He has to hold on to his composure, no matter how difficult it is. He takes a deep breath. Another. His breathing is still shaky, but it’s better.

He sits down for a little while, thinks. Takes everything he knows about what is happening, and arranges them, negatives and positives.

Negatives: There is most likely nothing he can do for himself in this situation, chained and trapped as he is. He is hidden far underground, in a prison that is likely shielded from magic. He is entirely at the mercy of the traitorous guards that brought him here, as well as whichever party gave them their orders.

Positives: Jonah will look for him, if he hasn’t started already, and he won’t stop until he’s found him. If Jon can stay calm until that happens, he’s in a perfect position to obtain information about Jonah’s enemies. And… Maybe his captors made a mistake in chaining him to the stone.

The chains are heavy, but if Jon can break them, he will have a decent weapon to attack the next person that opens the door. They’ll have to come back, if only to give him food. And when they do, Jon can swing his chains at them and escape.

Jon examines every inch of the chains, but they are solid. Even the place where they are driven into the stone is magically fused. There is no way to break them.

Jon sits down again.

(Jonah will come for him.)

***

It’s two days later, as far as Jon can tell. Jon lays on the cold floor, too exhausted to even shiver anymore. He’s thirsty, and hungry, and it seems increasingly likely that he’s been left to die in here.

The door opens, and Jon’s eyes snap towards it. He sits up, heart pounding with something between hope and fear.

And then he sees who has entered his prison, and Jon forces himself to his feet, feeling the most acute relief he’s ever had. It’s Jonah, of course it is, Jonah.

Jonah approaches him, and as soon as he’s close enough, Jon throws his arms around him, careful not to hit him with the chains. He buries his face in Jonah’s shoulder, torn between laughing and crying. He’s so happy, so relieved. (He’d been so scared.)

Jonah’s hands go to Jon’s hair, softly carding through it. Jon melts with it, letting himself relax. He can’t wait to go home, for this nightmare to finally be over.

Jonah pulls away, unties and removes the gag. “There now,” he says, tracing his thumb softly over Jon’s cheek. “I did ask them not to gag you.”

“Jonah, I—” Jon stops, his heart stuttering as he realizes what Jonah just said. “What?” his voice sounds faint.

“I was hoping to avoid this, to be honest. I wanted you to Ask them, for them to explain all this to you.” His hand slides down to Jon’s wrist, over the shackle there. “I really hate seeing you like this. But I couldn’t leave you down here without an explanation.”

Jon can’t—think, his heart is too loud, his breath is too loud. He can hardly hear himself say, “What are you talking about? Jonah, I haven’t done anything!”

Jonah looks fond. “Dear Jonathan. Of course you haven’t. This isn’t about you at all.”

“Then—then—” What’s happening? Why is Jonah doing this?

“Ask me,” Jonah says.

“Jonah, no, I—” Jon doesn’t compel Jonah. He doesn’t. He loves Jonah, he trusts him, there’s no need—

“I want you to know that I am telling you the truth,” Jonah says. His voice is gentle.

Jon swallows. When he speaks, his voice is shaky. “Why are you doing this?”

Jonah closes his eyes, feeling the compulsion wash over him. He inhales, breathing it in deeply. He opens his eyes again, looking straight at Jon and they are still fond, but there is something—cold, in them. Something that sends a spike of fear through Jon’s stomach, that causes his chest to tighten.

“I find myself in a precarious position, Jon,” Jonah begins. “I have many enemies, and few resources to prevent those enemies from encroaching on the few holdings I possess. Given my disinheritance, I also don’t have any bonds of family loyalty to rely on in case one of my enemies gets greedy.

“I need power. Not the kind that comes from a massive army, because I simply don’t have enough subjects to throw into military service. I need the kind of power that an individual can possess. The kind of power that can only come from magic.”

They’ve discussed this before. How to consolidate power through magical means. It’s been the center of their studies since they’ve known each other, but—

“I know you’re confused,” Jonah says. “I’ve been working on a theory, recently, based on our studies of various kinds of emotional magic.”

Jon remembers those studies, but they didn’t yield anything conclusive. Emotional magic in general is more powerful than non-emotional magic, but as far as they could tell, no particular emotion was stronger than the others. And all forms were much harder to control.

“There’s something you don’t know,” Jonah says. “Since we began that research, I’ve been running my own experiments. I had this room constructed in secret, and I confirmed what I already suspected to be true—fear is by far the strongest emotion with which to cast magic. The tradeoff, however, as I’m sure you already guessed, is wild unpredictability. So, I began a new experiment: Is it possible to cast magic fueled by the emotions of another?”

Some kind of despair rises in Jon’s throat as he begins to see where Jonah is going. But he refuses to believe it. Jonah can’t—Jonah wouldn’t—

“The experiments were a success, with a single caveat: the strength of the magic I could cast with another’s fear directly correlated to the strength of the magic they could cast themself. I could become the most powerful mage of our age by far, but I would need another strong mage to act as a sort of... battery. And, well—” Jonah looks around the room, then back at Jon. “Here we are.”

“Jonah, that—What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” Jonah says. “This room is charmed, to keep you alive, no matter what. You won’t die for lack of food, or water. Any wounds you sustain will heal quickly. And age won’t be able to touch you. In spite of that, however, I’m afraid this will be a rather unpleasant experience for you. In order to be an effective battery, you must spend most of your time afraid. You’ll be alone, for the rest of your life, trapped here with nothing and no one to save you.”

Jon swallows, a hard lump forming in his throat. “You’re just—you’re just leaving me here? How—” How could you? He wants to ask, but that sounds horribly naive, now. He doesn’t know if he should laugh, or cry, or scream. He’s split between heartbreak and fear, and he can’t—

Jonah looks at him for a long moment as Jon tries to think of anything to say, and then he turns away. “Goodbye, Jon,” he says. And then he starts back toward the door. Leaving Jon—here.

“Jonah,” Jon says, starting after him, his voice breaking. “Jonah, don’t—Please, please Jonah, don’t leave me here, don’t—”

The chains clank, reaching their limit, and Jon strains against them. Jonah is leaving, and he can’t, he, he, he—

Jonah turns back, and something like hope stutters in Jon’s chest. His arms are pulled back behind him by the chains, his chest heaving with his too-fast breaths, desperate fallen tears wetting his cheeks. Jonah comes back to him, cards a hand through Jon’s hair. He places his hand against the back of Jon’s head, one finger scratching at his hairline. Then he leans forward, pressing his forehead to Jon’s.

“I will miss you,” he says, and then he lets go.

“Jonah,” Jon says, but Jonah doesn’t react in the slightest. “Jonah, don’t do this,” Jon tries again. Jonah reaches the door, and something in Jon breaks. “No, no, no, no, Jonah, please, please Jonah, no—”

Jonah opens the door, and Jon is screaming now. “Jonah, please—”

The door swings closed, and Jonah is gone.

Thunk.

Jon is locked in.

Forever.

It’s silent now, except for Jon, whose stuttering breaths sound very, very loud. They’re coming too fast, and he knows that, but what does it even matter?

Jon falls to his knees, his entire body trembling. His arms ache where they’re pulled so harshly behind him, but that doesn’t matter either, does it?

Jon is alone. No one is coming to save him.

Jon lets himself panic.

***

It’s intolerable, being trapped all alone in the dark. It’s intolerable, but after the first few days, after the thirst and hunger and aching cold and heartbreak all fade, it becomes a numb kind of intolerable. Jon lays on the floor, staring at nothing, drifting in and out of sleep.

It’s peaceful, in its own way. He thinks this might be what death is like, and he finds a bit of solace in the thought.

Then Jonah starts sending him visitors.

The first time the door opens, Jon’s heart surges with a manic sort of joy. Perhaps Jonah’s had a change of heart, perhaps he’s being rescued from this prison.

But the man who comes through the door is not Jonah. And he is not here to rescue Jon.

The visitors are all different, but they all hurt him. Slowly delivered cuts and deep, painful burns, and bruises upon bruises upon bruises.

His wounds heal quickly, but the fear remains. His dreams are unpleasant, his waking hours no better. He watches the door, constantly fearful of the next moment it will open, bringing some fresh pain with it.

No one comes to save him.

***

The visitors stop, and Jon doesn’t get an explanation. They have stopped, Jon is sure about that. For a long time, he thought Jonah was just letting him fester for a little while. Giving him a break from the pain while Jonah himself rested between battles, between campaigns.

But it’s been months now. Years, maybe. And no one has come.

He isn’t less afraid. He keeps wondering if Jonah has something worse than the visitors planned, something that Jon can’t even imagine. Even that is better than wondering if Jonah has just forgotten about him.

The thought brings him to tears, and Jon hates himself for it. Hates himself for missing Jonah, hates himself for how often he fantasizes about curling up beside him in the early morning, Jonah’s fingers combing through his hair, their bed soft and warm.

It’s so cold in the cavern.

One day, one of Jon’s chains breaks. One of the links just… crumbles to dust, leaving him with a heavy shackle connected to a rusty chain that isn’t attached to anything.

The other chain breaks not long after that. It doesn’t matter. The door is still bolted shut. Thunk. Jon tries it, just to be sure, and he works himself into a panic attack trying to force his way through the door. He didn’t think he had any panic left in him.

Still, it’s… better, sort of, being able wander the cavern at will. He wonders idly if Jonah will send someone to fix the chains. He remembers his plan, from so long ago, and practices swinging the chains around, trying to make them as lethal of weapons as possible.

He can only practice for a short time before he needs to rest, but it’s nice to be doing something. It’s nice to have a plan.

Then he swings the chain badly, carelessly. It hits his knee hard, and he falls to the floor, seized with fresh, sharp pain. Broken. It heals quickly, of course, but he’s still lying there for hours (days?) waiting for the agony to end.

He gives up practicing. It’s obvious by now that no one is coming.

A few weeks (months? years?) later, the iron has degraded enough Jon is able to pull most of the chain away from his shackles, leaving behind just a few useless links. It’s better, marginally, than dragging the long chains behind him.

He continues to be alone for a long, long time.

No one comes.

***

Voices.

Jon opens his eyes a crack, but the cavern is still just empty. The door is closed. Just his imagination, then. A dream, got too loud. He closes his eyes again, tries to get back to sleep.

The voices get louder, and now Jon can hear footsteps. Outside the door, getting closer.

His heart rate picks up, and he presses himself closer against the cold stone behind him. His hand drifts toward his chain, but by this point it’s so degraded that it won’t make much of a weapon.

If it’s a visitor, they’d probably enjoy watching him try to defend himself. It isn’t good, when they enjoy themselves.

But if it’s Jonah—

Jon dismisses the thought. It won’t be Jonah.

They’re more than one, judging by the noises outside. Grunting, straining. Struggling with the bolt on the door.

There’ve never been multiple visitors before. Jon swallows, shrinking into himself in fear. He should have known that this was only a break, that Jonah would eventually bring him more pain, worse pain.

The door swings open, and there are three that step through. He doesn’t recognize any of them, although they all look like people. Once, Jon would have taken comfort in that.

It takes a little while for them to spot Jon, hidden as he is in the shadow of the stone. They’re clearly impressed by the vastness of the cavern, talking excitedly to each other. One of them has a notepad that she is scribbling furiously onto.

The shortest one spots him first, followed by the one with a sword at his hip. They both nudge the notepad one, and then three pairs of eyes are trained directly on him. They look like he’s doing something wrong, by being here, and he shrinks deeper into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his ribs.

All three of them move forward, and Jon lets out a sharp gasp of fear. He can’t do this, not again, he can’t take it.

They stop, and the shorter one murmurs something to the other two. Then he approaches, alone.

He crouches down a few paces from Jon, well out of arms’ reach. It’s meant to put Jon more at ease, but Jon knows that distance isn’t necessarily protection from the kinds of things that visit him. “Hello,” he says, his voice soft.

Jon doesn’t respond, just keeps watching him closely while also keeping an eye on his friends. When they decide to attack, it will not come as a surprise to him.

“I’m Martin,” he says. “What’s your name?”

Ah, so they’re that kind. The kind whose torment comes from names and identity, confusion. Jon isn’t going to make their game easier for them.

“Okay,” Martin says, if if Jon had actually given him an answer. “That’s Tim and Sasha,” he gestured to the other two, who both smiled when he looked over. “Um, we’re researchers?” Martin continued. “Well, Sasha is, anyway. We’re studying the ruins here, comparing the surviving architectural details to the extant descriptions of various homes that belonged to the Lukas estate. And uh—” he laughs, but not with humor. It’s higher-pitched, almost manic. “We really weren’t expect to find any living things, other than mice, so you’ve given us a bit of a shock.”

Jon just stares at him. What is he talking about? Researchers? Are they trying to get his guard down by—by confusing him?

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Martin says, raising his hands.

Jon can’t help it; he laughs at that. Do they really think he’s that stupid?

A complicated expression passes across Martin’s face. “Well, it’s at least good to know that you understand what I’m saying,” he mutters. He looks away, drums his fingers on his wrist a few times. Then he looks back at Jon. “It’s fine if you don’t trust us, but—can you at least tell us how you got here? Just, if there’s a group of, of bandits or something that hang around here, we’d rather be prepared for it.”

Jon narrows his eyes, looking from Martin to Tim and Sasha. What is the point of these questions? They know why he’s down here. They wouldn’t be here, otherwise.

“Right,” Martin sighs at his silence. “Listen, are you okay to walk? I mean, it’s a lot of stairs back to the surface, and I don’t want you to exhaust yourself, but—”

“To the surface?” Jon interrupts. His voice is rough from disuse, and he hardly recognizes it. “You, what—You’re taking me out?”

Martin nods. “I mean, not—Unless you’d rather stay here? We’re not kidnapping you or anything, but—”

Jon tunes him out, can’t listen anymore over the sudden buzzing in his ears. Jon—Jon doesn’t know what to do. What is this? A trap, or a test, or—

“Where is Jonah?” Jon demands, compulsion flowing from his mouth without him thinking about it, without meaning to. He didn’t know he even could, anymore.

But Martin is just blinking at him. “I don’t know. I don’t know who that is.”

Jon’s mouth is dry. “Who sent you here?”

“No one. I told you, we’re researchers. We came of our own accord, and found this cavern on accident.”

Jon’s heart is pounding, loud, loud, loud. “I don’t—Who is Lord of this castle?” Martin had said Lukas’ name earlier, hadn’t he? Was he the current Lord?

“No one,” Martin says. “The castle’s been abandoned for thirteen hundred years, at least. It’s not really even a castle anymore, just ruins.”

Jon stares at him, swaying slightly, feeling as if the entire floor has been pulled out from under him. Thirteen hundred years. He opens his mouth, closes it. What else is there to even ask?

Jon lets out a sharp laugh, then claps a hand over his mouth before it can turn to a sob. He muffles a harsh whimpering noise, then takes a deep breath, collecting himself. He feels fragile. He feels numb.

He pulls himself to his feet, and starts walking toward the door, chains still jingling around his wrists.

“Alright then,” he hears Martin mutter, getting up and following after him.

Tim and Sasha don’t stop him as he passes by them, although he does hear Martin stop and exchange a few words with them. Then he hears three sets of footsteps, following him.

Getting up the stairs is an ordeal. There are a lot of them, and he doesn’t have the stamina to get up more than ten at a time. At one point, Martin offers to carry him, but Jon doesn’t dignify that offer with more than a glare.

Eventually, they make it all the way up the stairs, and Jon sees—the place that once was his home. Except it’s different now. The tapestries are all gone, along with some of the walls. The soft, luxurious rugs have been replaced by creeping moss and weeds.

He finds the stairs, and begins the painstaking journey to the second level. The three start to follow him, but he stops them with a glare. “Please,” he says, and to their credit, they stay behind.

He goes to the bedroom, what’s left of it, where he would lay for hours, safe in Jonah’s arms. (Where Jonah betrayed him.) The bed is gone, of course, and tree branches creep in through the window where he once sat watching the sunset.

He lays down in the spot where the bed once was. Thirteen hundred years. Thirteen hundred years, plus however long before that he was already imprisoned. Thirteen hundred years, all alone, and Jon didn’t even know it.

Jon curls his arms around himself, arms that haven’t been near enough comfort for centuries now. He doesn’t want to see Jonah again, except for how he so desperately does. He wants warmth, comfort, safety. He wants his home back. He wants for none of this to have ever happened.

He lets himself cry, and for the first time in such a long time, it’s a choice that actually matters.

***

He wakes up, and it’s dark. Not the dim-dark of the cavern, but a new kind of dark. A moonlit darkness. He looks out the window, and through the canopy of trees overhead, he can see stars.

Oh.

He’s forgotten about stars.

He heads back downstairs, and to his surprise, the three are still waiting for him. They’re seated on the floor, a lantern lit between them. Tim and Martin are talking in a low voice, heads dipped together. Sasha is laying on her belly, scribbling on her notepad.

The conversation stops when he enters the room, the four of them all just staring at each other.

Jon feels awkward, all of a sudden. It’s been so long since he’s had to talk to people. He doesn’t know what to say, where to begin.

But Martin saves him from that. He smiles at him, says, “Hey.”

“Hello,” Jon says, trying a small smile of his own.

Tim stretches, yawning massively. “Right, well now that we’ve got this one, how about heading back to the hotel?”

“Sounds great,” Sasha says, flipping her notebook shut.

“Uh,” Martin looks at Jon. “How do you feel about that? Are you okay with leaving?”

“Not permanently,” Tim says. “Just to sleep somewhere where there are actual beds.”

“Yes, that sounds—fine,” Jon says.

They lead him outside, and he shivers in the cold nighttime air. He’s well-used to the cold by now, but Martin notices.

“Here,” he says, holding out the soft blue cloak he’s been wearing around his shoulders. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

Jon takes it, a little hesitantly, and wraps it around his shoulders. It’s warm, and more than that, it’s soft. Jon wants to sink into the feeling, revel in it forever. But they’re still moving, so he keeps following.

Jon expects that they will have horses, and is a bit shocked to see their ‘car.’ He swallows his questions about it, taking a seat beside Martin. He can’t stop himself from flinching when the engine roars to life, but after that it’s—nice. It’s warm, inside the car, and he leans against the window, bunching up Martin’s cloak to use as a pillow.

He drifts off, warm and safe and surrounded people who will eventually become a new home.