#My doctor kept making the letters bigger and I was like no matter how big you make them I will NOT be able to make them out. Period. LMAO

[shima-draws]

Finally got new glasses (lenses AND frames!) bc I broke my old pair lol

Thing is I had my old pair for. I don’t even know how long. 5 years maybe? Either way I was long overdue for an upgrade to my prescription and holy SHIT when I tell you my jaw dropped when I put my new pair on. You people see like this? Crystal clear? Every day? You can read signs from really far away? And not have to squint?

When I was driving home today I could see all the way to the mountains I could literally see all the little details of the snow and the trees and I was like YO DUDEEE this is INSANE. People with 20/20 vision you have no idea how good you have it I cannot believe people can see that clearly normally

[naalbinder]

phoebe bridgers // elliott smith parallels

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BEfu6YZ7XbdHFZBXthIpN?si=6bf8fc460eba4d33

E - Riot Coming - “Sat down in jail with this friend of mine/Who'd never close both his eyes/But one was shut all the time/To cover the thing he was scared of”

E - Stupidity Tries “To sail across the sea of trash”

E - Going nowhere - “The old records are sitting on the floor/The ones I can’t put on anymore”

E - Clementine - “Anything to pass the time/And keep that song out of your mind”

P - Smoke Signals - “One of your eyes is always half-shut/Something happened when you were a kid” - “burning trash out on the beach” - “You said that song'll creep you out until you're dead”

E - Miss Misery - (music videos on the same street)

E - Easy way out - “While I watch you making mistakes/I wish you luck I really do” “I heard you found another audience to bore”

E - Looking Over My Shoulder - “Another sick rock ‘n’ roller acting like a dick”

E - Placeholder - “I'm the person you'll never need/The biggest loser on sixteenth street” - “Just like my favourite song/Some pretty words that didn't last that long”

P - Motion Sickness - “I'll be glad that I made it out/And sorry that it all went down like it did” “You said when you met me, you were bored” - “Hey, why do you sing with an English accent?/I guess it's too late to change it now”

E - Some Song - “Help me kill my time cause I'll never be fine”

P - Funeral - “Jesus Christ i'm so blue all the time/And that's just how i feel/Always have and i always will ”

E - Bled White - “Happy and sad come in quick succession/I’m never going to become what you became”

P - Demi Moore - “I got a good feeling/It doesn't happen very often”

E - St Ides Heaven - “With an open container from 7/11”

E - A Fond Farewell - “A fond farewell to a friend”

P - Scott Street - “With an open heart, open container” - “Anyway, don’t be a stranger / don’t be a stranger”

E - Last Call - “And I think I’m all done, you can switch me off safely/While i’m lying here for sleep to overtake me”

E - Roman Candle - “I’m a roman candle/My head is full of flames ”

P - Killer - “But when I’m sick and tired/And when my mind is barely there/When a machine keeps me alive/And I’m losing all my hair/I hope you kiss my rotten head/And pull the plug” - “Tame the fire in you”

E - Georgia Georgia

P - Georgia - “Georgia, Georgia, I love your son”

E - Twilight - “That you are already somebody’s baby”

E - See you later - “Made out of a night train”

E - King’s Crossing - “Instruments shine on a silver tray”

P - Chelsea - “You are somebody’s baby” - “For a chemical imbalance/You sure know how to ride a train” - “With a needle on a tray”

E - Christian Brothers - “No bad dream fucker's gonna boss me around/Christian brothers gonna take him down”

P - Would you rather - “Quarantined in a bad dream/He's half the man and you're twice as tall”

E - Son of Sam - “Son of Sam, son of a doctors love a nurses touch/Acting under orders from above”

P - You Missed My Heart - “A feeling of relief came over my soul/I couldn't take it any longer, and I lost control”

E - Bye - (instrumental)

E - New Monkey (Instrumental)

P - DVD Menu - (instrumental)

E - Coming up roses - “And you're coming up roses everywhere you go/Red roses follow”

E - Rose Parade - “Said, Won't you follow me down to the Rose Parade?”

P - Garden Song “They're gluing roses on a flatbed/You should see it, I mean thousands”

E - Condor Ave - “I don’t know what to do with your clothes or your letters”

E - Baby Britain - “Fights problems with bigger problems/Sees the ocean fall and rise/Counts the waves that somehow didn’t hit her/Water pouring from her eyes/Alcoholic and very bitter”

E - Say Yes - “I'm in love with the world/Through the eyes of a girl/Who's still around the morning after”

E - Seen How Things Are Hard - “You just didn't care/You were off getting drunk instead”

E - The Biggest Lie - "Oh, I just told the biggest lie/ I just told the biggest lie/The biggest lie"

P - Kyoto - “And you wrote me a letter/But I don't have to read it” - “I wanted to see the world/Then I flew over the ocean/And I changed my mind” - “I wanted to see the world/Through your eyes until it happened/Then I changed my mind” - “I'm gonna kill you/If you don't beat me to it” - "Guess I lied/I'm a liar/Who lies/'Cause I'm a liar"

E - Memory Lane - “Your little house on memory lane ”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Angel in the snow/all crushed out on the way you are”

E - Last Call - “And I wanted her to tell me that she would never wake me”

E - New Monkey - “For the millions of fans ignoring the bands”

E - Waltz #2 - “I'm never gonna know you now/But I'm gonna love you anyhow”

E - Amity - “I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time”

P - Punisher - “The house where you lived with Snow White” - “But never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers” - “What if I told you/I feel like I know you?/But we never met” - “The drugstores are open all night/The only real reason I moved to the east side”

E - Some Song - “Yeah it's halloween tonight and every night”

E - Pitseleh - “I got a joke I've been dying to tell you/A silent kid is looking down the barrel/To make the noise that I kept so quiet”

P - Halloween - “Baby, it's Halloween” - “I hate living by the hospital/The sirens go all night/I used to joke that if they woke you up/Somebody better be dying”

E - Shooting Star - “So bad, so far/You made me sad/Shooting star/You're distant and cold/And a sight to behold/Everybody just sighs”

E - Satellite - “When they call it a lover's moon, the satellite/'Cause it acts just like lovers do, the satellite/A burned-out world you know/Staying up all night/The satellite”

E - Everything Reminds Me of Her - “Why are you staring into outer space, crying?/Just because you came across it and lost it”

P - Chinese Satellite - “Took a tour to see the stars/But they weren't out tonight/So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite” - “Sometimes, when I can't sleep/It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things” b- “Instead, I look at the sky and I feel nothing/You know I hate to be alone/I want to be wrong”

E - Coast to Coast - “Still you're keeping me around/'Til I finally drag us both down (Gonna drag us both down)”

E - Little one - “The moonlight tonight/Seems to belong to me” - “One more/Little one, I love you”

E - Coming up Roses - “The moon is a sickle cell/It'll kill you in time” “While the moon does its division/You're buried below”

E - Everything Means Nothing to Me - “At attention, looking backward in a pool of water/Wishes with a blue songbird on his shoulder/Who keeps singing over everything”

E - Pretty Mary K (Other Version) - “oh Mary K, I can see your face/down there in the waves, painted and erased/but I know it's just a reflection of the moon”

P - Moon song - (52) “You asked to walk me home/But I had to carry you” - (53) “And if I could give you the moon/I would give you the moon” - (54) “You are sick and you're married/And you might be dying” - (55/56) “And you pushed me in/And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you” “But you're holding me like water in your hands/When you saw the dead little bird”

E - New Disaster - “Everybody is the same in this long no-win game/Where every new blood/Gets time to become resigned” - “Until everyone knows that your smile is just a ghost/The ghost of your smile was seen on a body in the park”

P - Savior Complex - “Baby, you're a vampire/You want blood and I promised” - “All the bad dreams that you hide/Show me yours, I'll show you mine”

E - Oh well, Ok - “If you get a feeling next time you see me/Do me a favor and let me know/Cause it's hard to tell, it's hard to say 'oh well, Ok'”

E - Last Call - “You're a tongueless talker/You don't care what you say”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Only a cold still life/ that fell down here to lay beside you”

P - ICU - (58) “But I feel something when I see you now/I feel something when I see you” - (59) “I hate your mom/I hate it when she opens her mouth/It's amazing to me/How much you can say/When you don't know what you're talking about” - “laying down on the lawn” “if you’re a work of art/I’m standing too close/I can see the brush strokes”

E - Happiness / The Gondola Man - “What I used to be/Will pass away and then you'll see/That all I want now/Is happiness for you and me”

E - Whatever (Folk Song in C) - “Whatever you're doing now would probably suit me fine/If you're all done, like you said you'd be/What are you doing hanging out with me?”

E - Big Ballad of Nothing - “You can do what you want to whenever you want to/You can do what you want to there's no one to stop you”

P - Graceland too - “Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment” - “Whatever she wants (Whatever you want)”

E - Bottle up and Explode “Bottle up and go/I can make it outside”

E - A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to be Free - “God knows why my country don't give a fuck” - “Shine on me baby, because it's raining in my heart”

E - Alphabet Town - “Alphabet City is haunted”

P - I Know The End - “There's no place like my room” - “To some America First rap country song” “Driving out into the sun/Let the ultraviolet cover me up”- “I'll find a new place to be from/A haunted house with a picket fence”

[ruewrites]

Hi!!!!! I absolutely loved all of we're blooming together and everything else in the series, do you think we could maybe get some of the story from solomon's POV?

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3122

Warning: None

A/N: Hello Hello! Thank you so much for requesting this! It was wonderful coming back to this AU! I hope you enjoy this little perspective from Solomon's point of view. I'm always down to revisit WBT if you guys ever want to see anything else!

Solomon couldn't exactly remember when he'd started having feelings for his best friend. Probably around highschool? Late middle school? Whatever the case, Solomon had known he liked him, but he had some problems.

One. All of Asmo's partners were beautiful and charismatic and usually had some sort of high standing. It wasn't that Solomon was not popular so to speak but he wasn't the captain of the football team or the cheerleading team, he didn't have lots of ins to big fancy parties, and he wasn't extremely social. He noticed things about them, things he believed he could never measure up to, but he was always there for Asmo no matter what happened, advising him after fights and helping him through breakups. Not that he minded, he knew Asmo would do the same for him given the chance. It's how they functioned.

Two. His family. They knew he was attracted to women, but as far as he knew they had no clue that he also had feelings for men. Ash, his old caretaker, was the only one who Solomon knew about his feelings towards men. They’d raised him, they knew. It wasn't that he thought they'd react poorly, he just didn't know how they'd react. He saw them so rarely anyways that he figured it just didn't matter. They could figure it out after he moved out. Not to mention, finding other men to ask out was hard, especially when he kept thinking of Asmo. Women were easier for him to date. He often didn't have to question if they were attracted to him or if they wanted to date him.

Three. Asmo was his first childhood friend. His best friend.

He’d been the first friend Solomon had ever had, and Solomon had never been this close to anyone. Their relationship was special, something sacred.

So much was on the line.

He stopped dating all together after they left for college. He knew he liked Asmo too much at this point. It would be unfair to anyone else he did try to date.

So when Asmo broke up with his last ex, Solomon got an idea.

He gave him a little bit of time wanting to make sure that Asmo was okay after the messy breakup that had followed. Solomon had a lot of disdain for his last boyfriend. The man had been a monster. Solomon had had Asmo at his apartment sobbing over the latest argument they'd had. How this man had picked at the smallest insecurity until it burst open allowing blood to flow. Lucifer had been the one to convince Asmo to break up with him, something Solomon couldn't have been more relieved for.

He couldn't stand watching Asmo be stuck in that cycle anymore.

He waited a while before even constructing his first letter.

"You know, you could just tell him," Simeon's voice came as Solomon paced back and forth trying to think of the perfect words, "I think Asmodeus would be delighted to go out with you."

"If only it could be that easy."

"It literally could be that easy."

Solomon fell back onto the couch, mulling over if there was anything else he could or should say before telling Simeon he was done with this letter. He and Asmo had history together. If Asmo didn't want this, it could potentially put strain on their relationship.

"I need to test the waters first to see if he'd even be receptive to someone asking him out."

"And you can't just ask him if he wants to go see a movie with you on the weekend?" Simeon chuckled. Solomon was about to retort, but his friend continued, "Although, from what I've seen of Asmodeus, I think he'll like this."

One letter turned to two.

Two to three.

Three to four.

And so on.

Each time Solomon swore up and down it would be the last one and that he would just tell him. But then Asmo started to get more cuddly, more bold, with him. Each time Solomon lost his nerve.

But seeing how happy the letters made him didn't make him regret a thing.

Then Asmo invited him out, as his model. He couldn't say no. How could he say no? He thought he'd be prepared to see Asmo, but how he couldn't have been more wrong. Solomon's mouth went dry as soon as he opened the door. Staring too long would be impolite, but not taking in every inch of him would have been a crime. Every touch, every caress made Solomon lose his words.

In hopes of loosening up from his anxieties, he drank. He told himself it would only be one fancy drink.

But one became two.

Two became three.

Three became four.

And so on.

Soon his drunken mind had been making (what he thought were) cute little passes at Asmo. Or at least what he thought were cute little passes. His sober mind had later realized that almost falling off of a stool and nearly smashing his face into a counter probably wasn't the most ideal form of flirting. But he was drunk on Asmo just as much as he was drunk off of the alcohol. Then they'd moved to the couch. That closeness had gotten to him. Everything was going perfectly.

Until it didn't.

He thought for sure Asmo would have said no to that woman. Solomon should have said no. He had straight A's. He was in the top of their class. All of his professors told him he had a bright future. He was a smart young man.

But he'd made a very stupid decision.

The young woman had only wanted a dance and Solomon certainly didn't want to put a damper on her night. He figured Asmo would have followed to dance. In a way, he hadn't really known what he'd been agreeing to.

Then she kissed him.

Then Asmo wouldn't speak to him.

Text after text ran through his phone. He knew Asmo had to be getting the texts, he never had his phone off. Yet he wasn't responding, and he wasn't posting on his socials.

So there Solomon sat, dejected and kicking himself in the living room. If only he could go back and redo that night. He'd do it right. He would have asked Asmo out right there on the couch.

"Are you going to stop moping soon? I'd like to clean the living room."

Simeon peaked into the doorway, but Solomon didn't bother looking at him. He could wallow in his own pity and lick his wounds a little more. "I apologize, I can move into my room and continue."

"No you won't," Simeon sighed, taking the seat next to him, "You could just come clean to him. I bet it'd make you feel better."

"He won't respond to my texts. I don't think he wants to see me."

"You could send him another letter."

But what to write?

What could Solomon possibly say to explain himself? The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he’d been toying with Asmo. He kicked himself for having the need to show off and not just asking him out over one of their coffee meet ups. He might have had a better chance then.

He should have kissed Asmo that night.

So he sat hunched over his desk, piles of crumpled up papers sat haphazardly around his trash bin. Nothing seemed right. Flowery language at a time like this just didn’t fit. He wanted to be to the point. He wanted it to be genuine and something Asmo would listen to. That’s when it occurred to him that he just needed Asmo to see him in person. Oh how that thought twisted his stomach into knots. He almost didn’t do it.

It would have been so much easier to admire Asmo from a distance, to slink back inwards and continue to hide himself. But the longing within him hurt, and then the small voice in his head started whispering about how unfair it would be to Asmo. It was already too late to take back everything else he’d said and done; he knew he couldn’t just run away from it. Quickly scrawling out the few words he needed to say. Then, as if to give either one of them one last out, Solomon decided to plant one last letter. He would face death itself in the face and ask Lucifer to deliver the letter for him. Lucifer was protective, and for good reason. Solomon had no clue how he’d react or if he would even deliver the letter. But he would have to trust him.

Everything was so uncertain.

For as long as Solomon could remember, he’d had every step of his life planned out. He’d graduate with high honors from college, go to grad school, get his doctorate, and then teach as a college professor and spend his days responding to emails and grading assignments.

Then he started feeling that funny feeling in his chest, and it scared him. Falling for his best friend and then not being able to shake those feelings had certainly not been in his plans. It wasn’t something he could predict, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Asmodeus was smart and spontaneous. He was bright eyed with big dreams for his future and the only one who really ever got him to stop and think about how he’d reach those dreams was Solomon. He was also the one who always talked Solomon into dreaming bigger.

Solomon wasn’t really sure if he believed in fate or destiny or even soul mates, but perhaps this was it. Maybe life had presented him with the perfect person for him all those years ago. They foiled each other out and balanced. It felt perfect, it all felt perfect. His future now felt hazy and unsure, and while it was a terrifying thought Solomon wasn’t entirely sure he minded. Normally he hated uncertainty, but with Asmodeus he found that he didn’t mind. When they were together everything would be fine, no matter what.

When it came to uncertainty about their relationship, he despised it.

He found his thoughts drifting to their relationship more and more as he wandered through their old playground. The setting sun cast shadows between spots where they used to run and play together. He could still remember Asmo’s favorite hiding spots when they used to play hide and seek together. How he would squeal when Solomon caught him. The spot he used to pick flowers for Asmo was now starting to be taken over by weeds or grasses. Rust even covered the structures he and Asmo used to climb all over. Solomon didn’t even feel like he was there. He felt removed, as if he was merely an outside observer.

As the sun creeped lower and the shadows started to disappear, Solomon had started to become more anxious. Had Lucifer even given Asmodeus the letter? Or had Asmo decided that he was done? His anxieties heightened until they reached a plateau of acceptance as he sat on one of the old creaky swings. He’d have to accept that his relationship with Asmodeus would be nothing more than what it always had been. He could be fine with that. He could learn to be fine with that. They would slowly go back to their normal, and with time they’d laugh all of this off.

But for now, he’d stay right in this spot before maybe heading home in the early hours of the morning. He had made a mistake. He’d have to live with the consequences of that mistake forever.

His fingers gripped the chains tighter.

He almost didn’t lift his head when he heard the gate creak open. Any number of people from any number of backgrounds could be coming in. After all, it didn’t seem like people really came to this park any more. So he kept his eyes trained on his feet as he slowly rocked on the swing.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

“Solomon?”

His heart stopped and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

Had he really-?

Slowly he lifted his head. If Asmodeus had been a figure of his imagination in that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But he never disappeared.

If only Solomon’s mind could comprehend the next years of his life after that moment. If only Solomon knew how all of his carefully made plans would change. If only he knew how happy the rest of his life would be after that night.

***

“Hellooooo. Earth to Solomon.”

Solomon squinted his eyes as the hat he’d had was lifted from his face and the sun began to assault his eyes. He squinted for a moment before chuckling at the sight before him, “Ah, I’m sorry, did I go somewhere?”

“Seemed like it,” Asmodeus plopped down next to him on their beach towel under the umbrella and let out a sigh. Solomon glanced over him. Asmodeus was wearing a button up with his swim suit. His button up to be more precise.

Solomon reached out to tug at the end of the shit and let out a little hum, “Not like you to cover up at the beach. I thought you liked to soak up the sun.”

“Well I would have, if someone hadn’t been so insistent on marking me up last night,” he huffed, playfully swatting at Solomon’s hand. This only prompted Solomon to scoot closer, to poke at Asmo’s perfectly manicured finger tips. At which point, Asmo took his hand.

Solomon tried to pull him closer, “They look good on you though, and people should know how loved you are.”

“Well, if you really want to show people how loved I am, you could walk with me on the shoreline,” Asmo pecked his lips to end his sentence, giggling at how red Solomon was becoming. Yes he loved being affectionate, but PDA left him feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I told you the ocean isn’t really all that.”

“Solomon!”

“Fish pee in there you know.”

“Please?” Asmodeus pouted, “It’s romantic. We could find shells. Do it for your husband?”

Solomon tapped his fingers against his stomach, a soft hum leaving his lips. He wasn’t fond of the ocean. Asmodeus was the one who thought a trip here would be romantic for their honeymoon, and he hadn’t been wrong. There was a lot to do on the boardwalk and their honeymoon suite had been phenomenal. He just didn’t think he’d be going anywhere near the ocean. But the more Asmodeus looked at him with those eyes, the further away Solomon’s resolve slipped.

Finally he started to get up, “Alright, we can walk by the shoreline, but I’m not getting in the water.”

“Oh of course honey dearest,” the look Solomon received was absolutely devilish. He didn’t really expect anything less of his husband and oh he loved it. He loved everything about him and he knew he was whipped. But he didn’t care. Whatever spell Asmodeus had him under was strong and Solomon knew he could never bring himself to say no. He’d give the world to Asmo if he would only ask.

So there he was, closer to the ocean than he’d like to be, his hands interlocked with his husband as his ring glinted in the sunlight. The water was cold and clear and felt nice on his feet after walking down in the hot sand. Every now and again a tiny sand crab would quickly burrow below or a jellyfish would come close to washing up on the shore. Children made sand castles as their parents watched on and there was a group nearby laughing and playing with a frisbee. Seagulls and other seabirds stayed nearby, looking for the occasional stray fry or unattended sandwich.

Asmodeus had been right. This was wonderful.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the week here with his wonderful husband. Solomon squeezed Asmo’s hand, running his thumb over the smooth skin of his hand. “Ah, I almost forgot. I promised you a house didn’t I?”

Asmo’s eyes sparkled when he turned to look at him. They’d been apartment hopping while Solomon finished up his last years of schooling. They’d talked about it ever since they’d gotten engaged. Well, Asmodeus gushed about it. He always said how he wanted to make a home with Solomon, how he wanted a large bathroom and a nice little studio to work on his designs. Solomon had played into it mentioning how he wouldn’t mind having an office space.

“You did.”

“I was so happy being here with you I almost forgot about it.”

“Solomon!”

“I’m kidding,” before he could get the words out, Asmodeus kicked some water his way. Well, of course this was unforgivable. Solomon bent over to splash water up at his husband. Then a war broke out. The two of them continued to throw water at each other, salt splashing on their lips and both becoming completely wet.

“I thought you said you weren’t getting in the water,” Asmodeus giggled as the two of them were waist deep in the ocean. However his giggles quickly turned into squeals as Solomon picked him up and threw them both into the water, his husband clung to him sputtering all the way until their knees could touch the sandy bottom.

“Of course that’s what I said but my husband makes me do crazy things,” he pecked his lips, feeling his cheeks heating up, “You know you ruined all of my perfectly planned out future?”

“Oh did I now?”

“Mmhm,” the two of them slowly made their way back far enough till they could sit on the beach, “I had everything pictured to a t, but then I fell in love with you, and now my future is even more wonderful than I could have ever planned.”

Solomon watched the tears pool at those pretty lashes and his pretty lips pucker out before Asmo lunged at him. The kiss was sweet and heartfelt, and Solomon could taste the salt water on him. The sun outlined him perfectly as he pulled away, and Solomon swore he was staring at an angel.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Solomon couldn’t have imagined a better future than the one he was in now, and he knew that it would only get better from here. Asmo kissed him once more and Solomon felt like he was soaring. When they pulled away Solomon knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“We’re going to make a home together.”

He wasn’t sure how planned the rest of their lives were going to be, but he did know that it would be perfect.

[lailyn]

Stephen stepped out of the portal, expecting to be assaulted by a flurry of arms anytime now, but they never came. He looked around. The living room was empty.

Their house was never silent. Between Tony's music and the noises of his trade, the clangs and bangs were a normal part of Stephen's life now, one he took comfort in every day. 

And more recently, ever since a bundle of heavenly mischief by the name of Loki joined in the cacophony, it made rolling out of bed in the morning that bit harder, and coming home every evening easier.

He had been blessed, not once, but twice in the search for true love.

Stephen walked down the stairs toward the basement and true enough, he found one of them hunched over a table, hard at work. 

He watched Tony for a while before patting the Cloak of Levitation a few times; he could almost sense its disappointment as the sentient relic flew to give them a moment to themselves.

"How was work today, hun?"

Engrossed in his latest project, Stephen could barely hear Tony's mumbling through his welding helmet. Which was a shame because Stephen could have used a welcome home kiss or two, on the account of his very -

"Shitty day," he sighed. "It's that time of the year again. Wannabe witches and wizards dabbling in things they can't understand. I have to sweep in and clean up all the mess."

"You do it very dramatically though."

Stephen could just see the outline of Tony's suggestive grin through the visor. "The sweeping in."

Stephen only snorted. "You're one to talk. You spent hours talking over the latest colour scheme for Mark XXVII in bed with Loki yesterday when you two were supposed to be sleeping. Green and red? You'll look like a flying Christmas Tree."

"Hey, that was private pillow talk!" Tony protested with an embarrassed chuckle. "It's all about aesthetics, darling. That's why I insist I walk in the middle when we're on the streets."

Tony had a habit of not looking where he was going most of the time, so it was only natural Loki and Stephen be his eyes on the road. Stephen had never really wondered about it, and Loki never really minded getting hit by a car or two in Tony's stead, but now that Tony had brought it up...

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?"

"Ever watched Mean Girls?" At the blank look on Stephen's face, Tony tried again. "Charmed? The one from the 90s, not the reboot?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about and I know everything."

"Pretty things always walk in threes, Stephen. And the prettiest one always walks in the middle." 

With a smirk, Tony slid his visor down; he turned the music up and purposely turned his back in the hope that Stephen would miscontrue it as a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. 

"Where's Loki?"

"He's around somewhere," Tony mumbled. "Go look for him, would you? He's going to think we don't care."

Stephen only chuckled and gave Tony one last peck on the top of his head. "Come find us when you're done."

"Will do."

Tony waited until Stephen's form disappeared up the stairs before picking up his soldering iron once more.   

In truth, Tony simply did not want Stephen to see what he was working on.

He may be a little late to the bandwagon but wearing one's lover's colours? Into battle? Tony was sold. Besides, he was only taking a page out of Renly Baratheon's book. 

(Who, according to Loki, had taken to wearing the stag of Baratheon in the fight against his brother Stannis, but in the colours of House Tyrell, obviously an homage to his lover Ser Loras.)

In Lokispeak, that meant Tony'd better be wearing Loki's colours the next time they went into battle together. And Tony Stark was not going to be outshined by a fictional character.

Mark XXVII was going to have the most gorgeous chest plate in metallic navy blue. 

(Because hello, two lovers! Beat that, Renly!)

It matched Stephen's Sorcerer Supreme costume perfectly, and Tony could not wait for the next villain to show up so he could show it off. 

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

The energy signature powering up the wards around the house was strong, indicating that Loki had not left the house, but for some reason, Stephen could not find him anywhere.

He searched high and low, up and down all three storeys of the mansion, but there was neither hide nor tail of his mercurial lover. 

When the search had gone on long enough that pangs of worry were beginning to collect in the pit of his stomach, Stephen knew he had no choice but to resort to magic. 

He began to panic when reading a strand of Loki's hair (he always kept a few on him for moments like this) brought him right where he started, in the middle of an empty living room that felt bigger than ever now that he was utterly alone. 

Okay. Loki was officially missing. 

He was about to raise all hell when he remembered that there was another locating spell he had not tried.

It worked!

Stephen followed the mage light as it led him somewhere into the bowel of the house. He grew more and more curious as the mage light took him down a long hallway, the end of which only had a utility room where they would do the occasional laundry.

Then he saw it, the outline of a sleek Bombay cat inside the washing machine. 

"Oh, Loki…"

It seemed to be sleeping, comfortably ensconced on a small mountain of towels. 

Stephen opened the front load washer and carefully extracted it from its fluffy throne. 

The cat blinked blearily, its eyes a familiar, brilliant green. It meowed in hissy annoyance but settled almost immediately when Stephen held it to his chest. 

"What's the matter? This isn't the place to sleep," he admonished gently, scratching the cat's chin. "It's very dangerous, you know. One of us could have turned it on by mistake."

The cat pawed its way up Stephen's chest until they were eye to eye.

The hovering mage light illuminated the intelligence behind the cat's eyes, as did the Inuit kiss Loki gave Stephen's nose. 

Stephen chanted a word to close the loop on the spell, and the mage light turned into a wisp of golden smoke that disappeared into the bell dangling from Loki's neck.

Stephen fussed with the slightly askew collar to fix it when the pads of his fingers brushed against something; he turned the fine leather outward, revealing the silken lining inside. 

If found, please return to S&S, it read in gold stencil letters. 

He chuckled, remembering the first time Loki shifted and the argument that had ensured between him and their worrywart of a boyfriend.

"What does S&S stand for?"

"Why, Stark and Strange, of course."

"Why can't it be Strange and Stark?"

"Don't you know your alphabets, Doctor? A comes before R."

"Loki thinks it stands for Stephen and Stark," Stephen said triumphantly.

Tony wished he could look into Lokitty's eyes but he had to fasten the collar and check the fit before he could get it engraved, diamond-encrusted, and of course, magically and electronically tagged. "No, he doesn't. And why do you get to be Stephen, and I'm Stark?"

"It was your idea. I'm perfectly happy with S&T." 

Stephen had never been a cat lover, but for Loki he could make an exception. Loki made such a fine, handsome feline. 

"Alphabetically and perfectly happy. Yes, yes, I am." 

"What's all this?" A pair of arms snaked around Stephen's neck from behind. "A party in the laundry room and I wasn't invited?"

Tony then noticed the bundle of fur in Stephen's lap. "Is Loki alright?"

"Yeah. He's just bored."

"And hungry." Loki rematerialised, and now instead of a furball, he was a tangle of arms and legs that quickly held Stephen down in place, but Tony felt equally grounded, such was the intensity of his glare. "You promised we would go fonduing."

Stephen burst out laughing. "Loki, I don't think that word means what you think it means."

"What are you talking about? Of course it does!" Tony leaned forward over Stephen's shoulder to give Loki an apologetic kiss on the lips. "Cheese or chocolate?"

Loki's eyes lit up like gems. "Oh goodness, is it my turn to choose?"

"Of course it is, Princess."

Loki nuzzled his forehead against the underside of Stephen's jaw like he had spent too long in cat form and forgotten to hard-reset to factory settings. "Hmm. I feel very spoiled now. I can't decide."

Like Tony, Stephen too was getting better at deciphering Lokispeak. "We'll do both. Cheese for dinner, chocolate for dessert."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "That's very decadent of you, Doctor. I'm impressed."

"Wouldn't hurt to indulge once in a while."

Stephen stared at Loki's lips and imagined them dripping with cheese, and surely chocolate, later. "It's a convivial affair, fonduing."

"It warms my cockles when you talk dirty," Tony sighed happily.

"Cockles?" Loki's face fell. 

"Just a saying, darling." Tony held out a hand for Loki to take, and hoisted him out of Stephen's lap and off the floor. 

He addressed his next question to his partner who was taking his time picking cat fur off his clothes one by one, no doubt to store away for safekeeping. Every bit of Loki was magic after all.

"Shall we? I forgot to feed the cat today," he said sheepishly.

"That's why it's 'Stephen and Tony', Stark," the Sorcerer Supreme said proudly, and wasted no time demonstrating why. His portal opened up onto a nondescript sidewalk, and across the street was one of Greenwich Village's well-kept secrets, a hidden treasure trove of restaurants and cafes. 

"There!" Tony pointed at a sign that said 'The Melting Pot' in big, flashing letters. 

"Watch out for traffic, Tony," came Stephen's customary warning, but Tony was way ahead of him.

With one hand, Tony grabbed Stephen's hand, "Mine." Then he grabbed Loki's with the other. "Mine."

"All mine," Tony said possessively and pulled them both in.

Together as one, they crossed the street, with the prettiest (arguably) one in the middle, as always.

"Wanna get matching tattooes later?"

"Tony!" "Stark!"

[crazy4myself]

No Harm List Pt.4

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Trigger warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK!! I really took my time with writing this, trying my hardest to convey these feelings without being triggering. I also tried to make it as comforting as possible, but if you are feeling a little anxious maybe save this fic for a better day. Mental health first!  

Additional warnings: mentions of violence, explicit language, mentions of death,

Genre: Romance, angst, violence, gang/mafia AU, 

Rating: 18+  (bc of mentions of violence there’s no sexual content)

<- Pt.3

"Hobi, I don't wanna be mad. I just wanna know the truth,” you pleaded, voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren't rich.

Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble, Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn't want to hurt you. He didn't mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn't a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn't. 

He sighed, sitting on the couch, and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. 

"I guess it's best to start at the very beginning, which was when I was around 16," he started. 

"I lived in the same neighborhood as these two guys RM and Suga. They had actually served some time for getting busted with another gang, the Dime Lions, they're long gone now but basically, some shit went down during some kind of gang raid, and RM and Suga ended up taking the fall for it. Instead of the Dime Lions busting them out of jail, they left them there and basically disowned them afterward."

You nodded along to let him know you were following. 

"Anyways RM and Suga, they had a rough start when they got out of the gang, both were bastards, street rats on the Westside they never had anyone to look out for them. So they did the only thing they could do at the time to survive, which was breaking it to cars and shit and cleaning them out. I don't just mean personal belongings of these guys took engine parts, piping, tiers they took it all, and sold it to any scrap shops they could find. At the time, I was working at my uncle's scrapyard. I knew RM and Suga when they were in middle school before they joined the Dime Lions. They stayed with the foster family that lived in my neighborhood. I knew they had been kicked out of the house and were basically living with the Lion's, so when I saw they were working alone, I got curious. For a year or so, I convinced my uncle to continue buying from them even when he started getting a little suspicious about the guys stealing. The guys knew I looked out for them, and we were cool for a while. Then my mom got sick," he paused for a moment looking away from you.

You reached out and placed your hand on his leg knowing how hard it was for him to talk about his mom and Dawon. 

Collecting himself, Hoseok went on, "So I asked for an in with the guys, I needed money and I knew cars. I could remove the parts more effectively than they could. I also knew some clientele who were always coming by and buying parts because they flip cars for fun, those guys were easy targets. So I guess the three of us were a little gang of misfits for a while, I used the money to help pay for mom's treatment. They used the money to survive.

Then we started taking some younger ones under our wing. RM and Suga got their own place and opened their doors to some kids in a rough spot like they were. But as we got bigger, we started getting sloppy. We had been at it for about a year at this point. The guys started taking on some other jobs, but I stuck to what I did best. I wasn't really interested in broadening my horizons. Like I said, we had been at it for a while, and I got cocky, I guess. We had a few scuffles here and there, but we always got out of them okay. Then one night, we got busted scraping a car at some guy's house, and he shot me in the leg, and the cops got me. RM ended up bailing me out of jail, and Suga, Suga got me a gun." 

He shifted in his seat and looked at you nervously, "I wanted out at this point, mom was basically on her deathbed, and I was all Dawon had. I couldn't risk going to jail, ya know. I owed RM money for bail, but my uncle got me a job as an actual mechanic, I thought I could earn money the honest way, pay them back and then Dae and I could just go back to our lives. But then the doctors told us about some experimental treatment that could possibly cure mom. How the hell could I pass that up? I would have done anything to help her get better." his brows furrowed as he tightened his fist into balls.

 "So I stayed. At this point, BTS was growing, it was an official gang, tattoo and all. We had recruited Jin, who came from money, he used some of his trust fund to fund BTS and help us grow, and RM was starting to get a little ambitious. He wanted territory, he wanted me to take the tattoo and be his third." Hobi squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh, he felt like he had to force the words out of him to confess his sins to you. 

"I told you Suga got me a gun after the arrest, and it ended up I'm a really good shot, so good I didn't even have to kill a guy for a long time. I researched where to shoot to keep someone down for a long while without it being fatal, so that's what I did. I worked a few more jobs for RM, we did a big heist. Actually, that was our big break. A team of six other guys and I broke into this old rich dude's mansion, nearly cleaned out his safe when we split the money most of the guys put a percentage into my pot. I walked out that night with almost enough to pay for mom's treatment in full. 

I told RM I wouldn't be his third, and he offered me an out, I just needed to take one more job for him, and he would pay out the rest of mom's bills, so that's what I did. I killed for the first time, and then I was free. I wouldn't have to do any of it again. Well, that's what I intended," he paused, his voice growing softer. 

You tried to keep your face neutral as he revealed the horrors to you. Not that it mattered Hoseok couldn't even bring himself to look at you.

"Mom ended up passing that night." he laughed, a bitter sound that felt foreign to the kind man you knew, "I swear whatever cruel god is out there pulling all the strings did it to punish me. To let me know, they saw what I had become and that I didn't deserve to have people I love in my life. I wasn't good enough to feel love in this world," 

"Hobi, that's not-" he cut you off with a bitter laugh as he looked upwards to hold back his tears. The motion made him seem as though he was searching for the fates he mocked. "Don't y/n, I know what I am,"

"Dae was a senior when mom passed, and it absolutely broke her. I had to fight to get her to go to school for those last few months. Hell, it was a fight to get her out of bed for her graduation. Her exit exams were a disaster, and the councilors at the college were understanding, for the most part. They still admitted her to the school, but not a drop of financial aid was offered to her. She deserved so much more," Hobi's voice was laced with bitter disdain, his eyes looking far off. 

"So I did everything I could to give it to her. I borrowed from Namjoon, enough to cover her entire admission at Alcorn University."

"Hobi, that's so much," you couldn't hold the comment in. It was near impossible for an ordinary person to buy their way into Alcorn if they didn't get scholarships, the tuition at the prestigious school was over $20,000 a semester for admission alone. 

"And I did it, I had Jin make up a fake scholarship for her, send her a cute little letter telling her about the award. She thought that she earned a full ride, and I let her believe it. I even borrowed enough so she would stay in the dorms, I figured it would be safest to keep her out of the house. I didn't know what kind of jobs RM was going to have me do."

"I took the tattoo, and killing became more of a normal thing for me. It started to get easier, I kept my distance and tried my hardest to not even see their eyes. 

There was a big turf war that year. I don't know, the city was on the brink of a recession, a lot of big players in the city were changing the rules of the game. Business owners fought to take down other businesses simply so theirs could stay open, the market was a disaster. I never cared about the politics of any of it, I just did what I was told, and because of that, I'm still not totally sure all I did that year. What lives I took. Who all I hurt. I did everything I could to forget those nights and the blood. I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, ya know. 

I didn't want to know, I thought I would save that for the day I'm standing outside of hell, and they list off every single one of my evil deeds before they sentence their judgment." Hoseok's vacant eyes started to shine with tears.

 "And that was the stupidest fucking thing I could have ever done. I had no clue who had it out for me, I had started feeling invincible. I didn't even consider that someone would want to take their revenge, I had killed Kim Martin Sr.'s son." 

Your blood chilled at the name, and he didn't look at you as he continued.

"He was some big business owner or something, I was supposed to kill him, but there was a mix-up, and I got his son, Kim Martin Jr. instead. Whoever made the call decided that killing his son was just as effective because the grief practically destroyed him. A few misguided stock investments, while he was grieving, crashed his empire. He lost everything and had to move to the Westside in the aftermath. 

Suga kept good tabs on the guy, but then he fell off the grid. We figured he left town or hell maybe he died. We didn't consider him a threat, he showed no interest in coming after BTS, so I didn't even think to keep an eye out for Dawon."

You felt hot tears roll down your face as you realized what happened. The media painted Martin as the bad guy. They accused him of losing his business after his son died due to extreme drug abuse. The city officials wrote him off as such a pathetic low life, that come the time of his death that his murder was barely investigated. It was simply declared a drug deal gone wrong. But he was a father, a father who lost everything to a hitman and wanted to return the favor. 

Hoseok believed he didn't deserve love. Whatever higher power that was calling the shots took everything away from him as punishment. 

You think of your best friend now long passed, her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. The way she could always read you and knew exactly what you needed, whether it be your favorite ice cream on your period or a trip to the botanical gardens in the middle of the night when she knew you were missing home a bit more than normal.

There was a loose glass in the greenhouse that hosted the plants native to your home. You would both scale the fence to the gardens late at night and push that glass panel in and carefully crawl into the greenhouse. The air would be filled with the floral scents you grew up with, and you would just walk the rows of plants and run your fingers over the velvet petals and waxy leaves. 

Until Dawon would play music, a playlist the two of you made of songs in your native tongue. You would dance around the humid greenhouse singing on the top of your lungs while Dawon would laugh and clap along, excitedly shouting with you when she recognized a word or two. 

You thought about the way you and Hoseok both carried a burden of guilt after she passed. Until now, you had felt like you failed her as a best friend and roommate. 

For three years, you had tortured yourself with thoughts like if you hadn't procrastinated so much on your assignments that week, you would have been home when she decided to make a late snack run. You told yourself the robber probably wouldn't have stopped her if you were together. You reasoned that two of you would have deterred her as a target. 

Or maybe he would have just shot you instead. Dawon would have recovered from the loss so much better, she had Hoseok to comfort her and family and friends to support her. You were merely an exchange student in a city with no morals, loved by no one, but taken in out of guilt by her brother. It would've been a better trade. 

You tortured yourself with these thoughts day and night consumed with feelings similar to survivor's guilt.

You never understood Hoseok's guilt, until tonight, you felt like there was nothing he could have done to make that night play out differently. But now you realize he could have anything, and it might have made a difference. 

"Y/n, I understand if you hate me," Hoseok said softly, watching the tears that dripped down your cheek as you processed everything he told you.

"I wanted to honor Dawon's wish. I didn't expect you to do so much for me, for you to become my best friend and for you to make me feel normal. I kept this from you because you were the closest thing to her I had left. There was a time where I thought I would distance myself from you when you moved out. That I would just become another hazy detail to the tragedy, and you would move on completely with your life, but y/n you were so sad, and you needed me too. 

When you moved out, I was terrified of something happening to you. I couldn't stop myself from checking up on you. I couldn't let us grow apart." Hoseok's voice broke off as you looked at him, the pain and betrayal in your eyes.

 "Y/n, you're the closest thing I have to redemption, protecting you, being your friend is the last thread of humanity I have left, I can't lose you," he pleaded. 

"You watched me blame myself," you whispered accusingly, your eyes shining with betrayal. 

"You watched me tear myself apart, and used comforting me to make you feel better about yourself?" 

He flinched at your words, "I tried everything I could to convince you there was nothing you could have done," Hobi argued feebly. 

"Everything but tell the truth," you hissed as hot tears rolled down your cheek. 

You got up as a sob escaped you, your face red and snot running from your nose. Hoseok stood with you, but you flinched away with a broken no.

 "I need time, Hoseok," you begged. 

You swallowed thickly as you did everything in your power to keep it together, "I don't want to hate you, but please, I need time to think about everything," you assured. Even knowing what he did, he was right. You needed him too. If you lost him, you truly didn't have anyone in the city who cared if you lived or died tomorrow. And maybe settling for that made you your own kind of monster. 

It was funny how he claimed such a tarnished person could be his redemption. 

You secure your bag to your shoulder, stepping out into the night air and pulling the door closed behind you. You couldn't even bring yourself to lock the door behind you, afraid that if you stopped moving for one second that you would completely break down and be unable to make it home. You only hoped Hoseok was smart enough to check the door behind you and make sure to lock it. 

You counted the stairs as you made your descent and into the parking lot, making an effort to take in your surroundings. You tried to list off the colors of the cars as you passed them, and while some distant part of you did the action, you still felt like the effort wasn't reaching whatever corner of your brain you were hiding in. 

You got a lot better with controlling your anxiety attacks as you made it further in college, even going as far as taking advantage of the university's free therapy sessions to get professional guidance in your junior year. You defaulted to your go-to grounding technique as your feet moved of their own accord to carry you home. 5,4,3,2,1 was an exercise that made you aware of your surroundings and tether yourself to this world when your mind felt a dimension away. 

The technique walked you through your five senses, making you list off 5 things you could see, 4 things you could feel, 3 things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. Even in your most anxious moments, you were a slut for making a good list. You always found this exercise more soothing than any breathing technique. 

Your eyes searched without really seeing as you tried to find five things you could see around you. Straining yourself to really take in your surroundings, you settled for a yellow fire hydrant, a car parked on the side of the road, a penny on the ground, a drainage inlet tucked into the curb, and finally your own yellow shoes pacing down the concrete sidewalk. 

You were going to be okay, you reminded yourself as you took an intentional breath. 

Next, four things you can touch, you focused on your breathing as you reached an arm out to graze your fingertips along with the rough brick of the building you walked by.

You shifted a little more with each step, concentrating on how the fabric of your clothes moved across your skin and curling your toes into the padding of your shoes. You didn't count each feeling, your wandering mind struggling to really take in each sensation, but you were sure you touched four things by now.

This was a mistake you often caught yourself making when counting down like this. Sometimes you were in such a rush to reach the end and get to one as if identifying one taste would magically make all your anxieties go away that you forget to take it slow and really center yourself. 

Three things you can hear, it was at the time, as you strained to let the world in through the all-consuming pounding of your heart in your ears, that you realized you were whimpering to yourself slightly. The awareness of your own vulnerability made you stumble as your mind spiraled, and you struggled to find something to tether you back to the earth. 

You began walking faster before realizing you're not certain you were going the right way. So you came to a halt, realizing you couldn't bring yourself to focus enough to take in your surroundings. You stared at the street sign for a long time, repeating the letters to yourself as you made them form a word finally settling on Gardenia. 

Your breathing hitched as you realized you had wandered off the main streets and into a neighborhood in your daze. You were lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about it, and the lack of fear flashed an alarm in your mind that let you know you were too far gone to count away your anxieties.

You struggled to breathe as you tried to come up with a decision. You needed to ground yourself to calm down. You needed to list off 5 things you could see, fourth things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. You knew the only way to bring yourself back to the world was to become aware of your settings. 

But it felt as if the part of your brain that knew all these things didn't even touch whatever part of your mind was controlling you now. You were better off giving directions to the light pole you stood under. 

You felt your breathing get harder as you desperately gasped in all the air you could. Your arms and legs began to tingle as your body over oxidized, and your head began to spin. 

Slowly you slumped to the ground, wrapping your arms around the light pole you had stopped under as you spiraled. 

What were you even doing before this moment? How did you even get here? You forced your eyes open wide, hoping the action would make you actually see and register what you were looking at to no avail. 

What were you doing, what were you doing, what were you doing?

You struggled to reign in your thoughts of your laughing best friend and her crying brother. Or was it your crying best friend and his dead sister? 

You were supposed to find three things you could hear. Your crying doesn't count. A more logical voice seemed to get through to you. 

You strained your ears to hear past your own breathing, you could hear a frog croaking in the grass nearby, you felt the earth beneath you to confirm you had in fact settled in a patch of grass. You smiled to yourself proud of your progress as you continued to listen as you continued to listen. You heard the electricity buzzing in the light pole you had wrapped your arms around, you felt almost childlike as you opened your eyes. Actually, seeing this time as you looked up at the pole, you were around. 

You needed one more sound, you strained your ears, expecting to be met with something like a far off car driving by. Instead, you heard your name being called. You blinked as you turned away from the street lamp and towards the repeating sound of a familiar set of syllables coming from a familiar voice. 

Jungkook jogged up to as he saw you curled around a lamppost. Even from a distance, he could see the rapid way your chest was rising and falling in that familiar chaotic rhythm he only saw when he found Taehyung or Yoongi having a panic attack. You looked up at him with a tear-stained face and saw the confusion of his presence take you off guard and snap whatever control you had over yourself. 

Your face crumpled as a sob broke from your chest, and you turned away from him and curled yourself around the light pole a little tighter. 

Jungkook felt such a rush of guilt and panic at the sight of you so broken that he ignored the dull ache in his knees as he instinctively fell down in the grass next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the cold metal pole, trying to position comfortably in his chest. 

Jungkook shifted as he uncurled his legs from beneath his body and stretched them out next to yours in front of him, trying to touch as much of his body to you in comfort. You didn't resist, but the jolting motions did seem to make you more upset for a short moment. Jungkook realized he forgot to ask for permission to touch you before he acted. 

He knew Tae preferred physical comfort to calm down, but sometimes it could act more as a trigger when unwelcomed. He loosened his grip hesitantly, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him closer to you in response. 

Physical contact is. He thought to himself as he began stroking one hand up and down your back and rocking you both side to side slightly as if he was trying to calm a baby from a tantrum. 

Which he basically was doing, you thought bitterly to yourself as you accepted the comfort.

You were too far gone to calm yourself down. You had ridden the river of upsetting thoughts that triggered your attack all the way down, and now you risked floating out to sea and losing yourself forever. Not actually forever, just until you would cry yourself unconscious and wake up to start anew. But you supposed accepting comfort was better than sleeping outside in a neighborhood you didn't know. 

Jungkook whispered to you, not the sweet nothings people typically say when they see people break down like 'it's going to be okay,' or most annoyingly 'breath.' No Jungkook simply told you, 'you're safe,' 'take your time,' 'you're stronger than you give yourself credit for' and in your case most importantly, 'exhale.' 

When people see you having a panic attack and hear the loud gasp you make as you fight to breathe, they instinctively tell you to breathe as a way to calm down. But it's your failure to let the air out that keeps your body over oxidized, making it harder for you to feel in control of yourself. 

Slowly, you regained control of your body, and your desperate gasps for air morphed into shallow panting. Your shallow breathing morphed into soft whimpers and sniffled. Jungkook held you as your continuous knit itself together, and you faced the pain your mind was so desperate to escape.

He rubbed you back as you let out soft sobs as you reopened wounds that had healed into jagged scars. You cried for Dawon and her undeserved death. For Hoseok and the guilt you knew, he carried every day. You cried for Kim Martin, who died at the hands of the killer that stole his son. You cried for yourself, over the fear of the future as you saw it grow intimately tangled with a notorious gang.

You don't know how long Jungkook waited as you reeled yourself back together. He waited long after you finished crying, knowing just because you had control of yourself physically didn't mean you were mentally ready to face the world, so he wrapped you in his warmth and hummed to himself as he rocked you both slowly. 

You loosened and tightened your grip on his shirt and curled and uncurled your toes as you tried to become more aware of your body. You were basically sprawled out on the grass with your upper body twisted and pulled into Jungkook's middle. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but you weren't willing to risk losing his warmth to move. 

You licked your lips, and the jarring taste of your salty tears pulled you from your self pitying thoughts, deciding to work your way up the list you once again started to count. 

One thing you taste, salt. 

Two things you smell: you inhaled deeply and took in the smell of laundry detergent that clung to Jungkkook's shirt. "Detergent," you mumbled into his shirt, and the sound of a coherent word leaving you made Jungkook's humming stop as he looked down at you, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. He held in his chuckle as you stiffed the air again, and confidently said, "and grass."

You finally pulled yourself away from him only slightly to turn your face away from him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

"I can hear frogs, cars nearby, and.. your heart," you listed as you looked up at him from under you thick lashes still clumped with tears, "it's louder than mine," you observed as you listened to the hammering in his chest. 

He was from a different kind of nerves. 

He recognized the countdown and realized you were working to ground yourself, "What can you feel?" he prompted eager to get you to move on from his pounding heart. 

"Your t-shirt, it's soft, the grass poking at me through my jeans, my bra digging into me" you wrinkled your nose as you became aware of the discomfort. 

"And?" Jungkook prompted. A smile curled your lips as you looked up at him mischievously, "You're abs," you giggled as you sat up, finally pulling away from him. Jungkook felt the heat crawl up his neck as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. 

"And what do you see?" he asked gently, looking everywhere but you. 

You smiled at his bashfulness as you look around, "I see the street sign, the green grass," you pause as you squint, "I think that's either a rock or some dog poop over there," Jungkook let out a startled laugh. You smiled to yourself proudly as you continued. 

"Our shadows from the street light, and,” you pause realizing how close the two of you are, "the little mole underneath your lip."

"Good," he whispered, and you watched in fascination how his lips formed the words, "Are you ready to get up now, or do you need a few minutes?" he asked. It was the way his mouth twisted into a smile at the end of the sentence that made you realize you were still staring at his lips. You blinked before looking up at his eyes, which was alight with a teasing glint. 

"I can stand," you answered, flustered as you pulled your body away from him. Maneuvering your feet beneath you to get up. Jungkook offered you a hand once he was up helping pull you to your feet, before bending down and grabbing your purse for you. Your feet still tingled in that pins and needles feeling. You wiggled your hands to wake up your fingers as well, but other than that, you felt like you recovered from the physical toll of the panic attack quite well.

"C'mon my place is at the end of this road, let me grab a car and drive you home," he offered. 

You walked with him obediently, your hands brushing past each other twice before Jungkook's hand finally snatched yours mid-swing; you looked down and watched as your fingers intertwined with his effortlessly. You looked to him to see a change in his expression, but he looked straight ahead as he walked, acting as if nothing happened. 

You smiled at yourself, thankful for the affection. You always did get a little clingy after panic attacks, relying heavily on skinship and the feeling of someone taking care of you as a way to feel calm. You were surprised how easy it was for you to let Jungkook fall into that roll despite barely knowing him. But you suppose in the handful of interactions the two of you shared, he's always prioritized your comfort and safety. 

"This is your house?" you asked as you took in the massive white art deco house behind the gate you stopped in front of. The gate buzzed and rolled open for the two of you of its own accord and rolled open for the two of you. 

Jungkook smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, kinda," he said with a shrug. 

You raised a brow, "kinda?"

"It's complicated, c'mon let's get you home," he said with a tug reminding you that the two of you were still holding hands. You flushed but followed obediently as you made your way to the garage. 

You squinted as your eyes were met with a flood of fluorescent light upon opening the door. A row of vehicles lined its way down the length of the garage, varying from sports car, to jeep, to a large black truck at the end of the row. A line of 4 motorcycles along the furthest wall. 

"J-Hope sells Namjoon a car any chance he gets," Jungkook chuckled as he took in your awed expression. 

"J-Hope?" you questions, and Jungkook's smile faltered.

"That's what we call Hoseok," he clarified. 

You nodded in understanding, "Like how Taehyung goes by V?" you asked, and he nodded. 

"Hoseok, does he sell drugs like V does?" you asked curious of what all Hoseok's gang involvement entailed.

Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the adjacent door slammed up from what looked to be inside the house, revealing a man in a black t-shirt with a mop of platinum blond hair. 

"There you are," he practically growled as he stormed in the room.

The man was dwarfed by Jungkook a good bit, but somehow Jungkook seemed to cower and appear smaller as the man approached, dropping your hand as if he were caught doing something he shouldn't. 

You looked at him curiously and wondered if he was. 

"Yoongi hyung," he greeted as he tried to force a smile, "I was just about to-" 

"Save it," he snapped, "I have half the army out looking for you, ya know," he turned his fury to you much to your surprise as he added "both of you." 

Your mouth fell open, shocked by the confusion apparent on your face as he continued, "Do I need to babysit both of you, because believe it or not, she's taking up a lot of my time. I really can't handle you getting flakey on me Jungkook, we need to know that you're safe," 

Jungkook looked down as he lectured, murmuring a small apology. 

"And you" Yoongi turned to you, "That goes for you too, the Black Tips are still on your tail, I can't do much for you if you go running off,"

"Hyung," Jungkook hissed. "Not now, please." 

Yoongi blinked at his younger in surprise, turning to you and making a point to really look at you, and take you in. Your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face, the way you seemed to lean into Jungkook. He recognized that far off look in your eyes like you had to concentrate on being present in the moment, and Yoongi remembered the warning in Hoseok's earlier message when he told him you had run out.

"Yeah, okay, get her home and come straight back when you're done, we still need to talk," he said dismissively. None of your questions were answered, but you didn't resist as Jungkook put a hand on your back and guided you towards a nearby car. 

"Good night, princess," Yoongi called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Unlike with Jimin, you felt like you were being mocked when Yoongi called you that.

"Who was that, your brother, and why did he say he needs to babysit me?" you questioned as you both settled into the fine black vehicle the windows were so deeply tinted on the outside you wondered if it was safe to drive at night, but upon getting in the car, you noted that you could see through the windows clearly. 

Jungkook waited until after he put the key in the ignition and backed out into the driveway before he started talking."That's Yoongi hyung or Suga, he's head of surveillance for BTS. He was the one who sent out a message to go escort you home when J– Hobi Hyung told him you were upset and left his apartment so late. I was on my way in that direction when I ran across you on our street," he said, breaking at a stop sign and turning on the blinker.

You looked out the window as you took in everything he's told you, noting that you were stopped again by the light pole you had a panic attack under. Suga was one of the original members in Hoseok's story. You thought to yourself as you connected the dots. Your head still felt a little foggy as you recovered from the literal mental breakdown. The sudden change of lighting earlier had started to make your head throb. You were ready for bed.

"Hobi sent people to look for me?" was all you could manage, not entirely understanding the emotions stirring in your chest. 

"Well yeah, I mean, I was supposed to escort you home after work, and you kind changed plans, so we had to roll with them. I figured Hoseok would have taken you home after everything, so I didn't wait around. And then when Suga did send out the message I didn't notify them that I found you it was dumb on my part," he clarified. 

You leaned onto the console between the two of you, propping your cheek upon your hand in a way that squished your lips into a slight pout. Jungkook tried not to stiffen as you got more in his space. Peeking down at you through his peripherals he saw your brow furrow as you processed everything. 

"Why do you care?" you finally settled on asking as you still struggled to pinpoint why so many people would be worried about your safety.

Hoseok, you understood, to a certain extent, you even understood why he called in the favor. He knew your patterns and signs, you were probably shouting you were about to have an attack with your body language as you walked out the door. He knew he could never comfort you, not when he was the trigger. What you didn't understand was why BTS would listen.

"Because you're still not safe, and BTS took responsibility for your safety when I did," Jungkook said, simply turning to look at you as he stopped at a red light. 

If you were in the right state of mind, such a comment would have triggered an immediate fight. You had been on your own for far too many years to suddenly need a whole gaggle of men to tend to you as if you were some helpless girl. You were a grown-ass woman. But you weren't yourself as you searched for a response in the fog of your mind. 

"You're not responsible for anything about me?" you said softly as you shifted to rest your hand on your chin. 

"Y/n what all did Hoseok hyung tell you?" Jungkook asked, confused, you weren't rejecting his protection, you just seemed oblivious. He assumed the cat was out of the back as soon as you learned what BTS was, who they were concerning you. 

"Just how he joined BTS as how he ya know," you stuck your pointer finger and thumb in the air making soft 'pew pew' sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to talk seriously about the subject. Too much of this night had been severe for your liking. 

"Y/n, you saved my life last week," Jungkook said, trying to look in your eyes and convey all his gratitude. You shifted under his stare.

"I wouldn't call it that," you murmured, turning away, "The lights green," you added flatly trying to turn his attention from you. He ignored you and placed a warm hand over yours. 

"I would, and because of that, I and all of BTS owe you a life debt. We want to protect you as best as we can, especially since you're not totally safe from the guys you saved me from," he emphasized. 

You looked up at him owlishly as you thought over everything he said. But whatever you were going to say died on your lips as a car honked its horn behind you. You both jumped startled, and the intensity of the moment evaporated slightly. 

After a few moments of silence, you decided he didn't require a response. You can't imagine you would give a correct one anyways. You looked down at your hand, his larger one still resting atop your own and turned your wrist quickly and intertwining your fingers.

You rode in silence the rest of the way home, and you were fighting your eyelids as you pulled up to your complex. 

Jungkook wondered if you always fell asleep in the car even with dangerous men. He wondered if that's why he never sees you take the bus at night.

"You really should consider living somewhere safer," Jungkook muttered under his breath as he shut off the engine.

You bit your tongue holding in several comments and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' as you unbuckled and stepped out the car to see he planned to walk you to your door again. 

You grew embarrassed as you climbed the stairs and scrambled to think of parting words dwelling on everything Jungkook had done for you that night, "Thank you," you finally forced yourself to say. Jungkook looked down at you as you came to a halt in front of your door. "For earlier, with the crying and the counting," you offered awkwardly your eyes looking everywhere but his as you breached the sensitive topic. 

"Oh, it wasn't a problem, really. I'm glad I could help" he laughed nervously, and you smiled, reaching for his hand before he could bring it to the back of his head, a nervous habit you were quickly picking up on him having. 

"I'm serious Jungkook, a lot of people freak out and make the situation much worse for me, and I get it seeing someone crying like that it's never an easy thing to react to, but you did—" you hesitated as you searched for the right words, "You were good, comforting." 

You didn't give yourself time to question it as you stood on your tiptoes, deciding to convey your gratitude in a way that your stuttering mouth wouldn't botch, and grazed a small peck aiming for his cheek. Unfortunately, the height difference and your own lack of balance had you landing more on his jawline. Jungkook gasped only slightly at the feeling of your soft lips on his jaw, the heat of your body radiating off of you in your nearness. You smiled at him again as you turned towards the door to unlock it. 

"Haha yeah, happy to hear that," he responded, his voice crawling in pitch as he ordered his heart to beat, and you gave him another warm smile as you pushed open your door. 

"Good night, Jungkook."

"Good night, Ella." 

Jungkook's face split into a grin as you closed the door, a hand reaching for his jaw and pressing against where you kissed him as if it would simulate the feeling. His steps seemed to bounce as he made his way down the concrete stairs and back to his car.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading please tell me what you think! Your comments make me eager to write more :)

Pt.5 ->

[mayraki]

The Trained Assassin.

Spencer Reid series. Part 1.

Not my gif! Credits to the owner.

Summary: Life’s not easy when you found out that instead of being trained to be a spy for the CIA, you are being trained to be an assassin, a killer. The people you wanted to stop, they were making you one. That’s when you joined the BAU to become someone new, you didn’t want to be someone’s toy. You wanted your past to be errased, that’s all. But it’s not easy to hide a past like that.

“The First Case”

You could felt your heart beat faster than normally when the lift to the BAU building started moving. You closed your eyes and the face of your previous boss came in front of you, you opened them as fast as you could, anger was not the feeling that you wanted to feel right now.

The lift made a noise letting you know that you arrived at the floor you wanted, the doors opened and the noises of keyboards typing and phones ringing came into your ears immediately.

You stepped outside the lift and walked to Hotchner’s office as you were instructed when you talked to your old friend. When you were walking you felt a lot of eyes on you, but didn’t put much thought into it, you were used to that.

But Doctor Spender Reid was no used to that, the fact that a total stranger walked into the floor like she knew the place, caught his eyes. You looked interesting, like you were hiding something, someone mysterious and that’s why he couldn’t takes his eyes off of you.

You knocked on the door and you heard a “come in” from inside. Once you opened the door Agents Hotchner and Gideon appeared in your sight. Hotchner stood up from his desk and came to you to give you a big hug.

“Hi, y/n” he said after letting you go.

“Hi, Hotch.” You said with a smile “it’s good to see you again. And you too, Gideon”

Guideon hugged you with a half smile on his face. “I’m glad you’re here”

You nodded and sat down at the chair Hotch pointed.

“You’ve grown” he said.

A half smile appeared on your face and looked down “I lot has happend since we last saw each other”

It’s true.

A couple of years had past since you worked on a case with Agents Hotchner and Gideon, you were 21 and now, 25. Since then you three didn’t see each other face to face but kept in contact in case the BAU needed your help or your... special abilities.

“I’m sure you’re gonna fit well with the rest of the team, they are good people and they’re not much different from you” Gideon said and when it took you a second to give a response, he noticed and added quickly “different stories, same motives” You nodded with a half smile.

“And don’t worry, we didn’t tell them anything. Is your story to tell if you want.” Hotch said and I gave him a half smile.

“Thank you”

“We have a meeting to discuss the next case in ten minutes” Hotch said “you can set you stuff in your desk in the mid time.

“Thank you, Hotch” You stood up and once Gideon left the room you said “seriously, for everything”

“You know I always wanted you on the team, you’re one of the greatest.”

When you left the office and walked down the little stairs, you searched with your eyes your desk and in a matter of 5 seconds, you read the name “y/n y/ln” on a peace of paper on one of the desks.

You put the box that you were carrying since you left your car on top of your desk, when you realized you didn’t have much of “your stuff”. You didn’t want anything from your life to be remembered. Just... one thing.

You opened the box and the only thing that could bring you joy on this time was on a picture with a big smile on his face. Your little brother. You grabbed the picture and tapped it to the side of your desk. You missed him.

When you put the box aside, you felt a set of eyes on you. You looked to your left and a guy with glasses on was staring at you, but as soon as you looked at him, he went back to the book that was on his hands.

“Everyone on the meeting room” Gideon walked fast to the room followed by Hotch.

Once you were on the room, the eyes of 5 people were on you.

“Guys this is agent y/ln, she’s going to be a part of this team from now on. We can have the introductions later on, we have to talk about the case immediately”

“Three woman were found dead in the matter of three weeks in a small town from Ohio” A blonde girl said when she gained everyone’s attention “the local police wants us because they think that they have a case of a serial killer.”

“And why’s that?” The big man sitting next to you asked.

“The three bodies had the same cut on their stomachs,” she pressed a little controler that she had on her hand and the pictures of three stomachs showed on the big screen “they all have the letter ���X”

“Looks like the killer took his time” the other lady that was sitting down said “look at the lines he carved, they are perfectly cut, not a single one is bigger that the other one”

“On the stories of pirates, they used to put an X on the treasure, maybe he thinks them as treasures?” The guy with the glasses that was looking at you before said quickly.

“Maybe” Hotch said.

“If we are talking about a serial killer, he has the same tarjet.” You said without looking away from the pictures “They are all woman on their 40’s, blonde, and for the look of their clothes, with money. Maybe he hunts them, he stalks them for a while, and when he kills them he puts a an “X” on their stomachs like “treasure found” you finished your sentence and felt all the looks on you. A silence came into the room and to break the tension you said with a half smile “Did I said something wrong?”

“No” the guy with the glasses said quickly. And when he noticed the way he said it he cleared his throat “that was good.” He moved uncomfortably and stood up. “Are we ready?”

Hotch nodded “the car leaves in ten minutes”

Spencer hoped no one noticed his behaviour back there, but he would be a foolish to think that in a room full of profilers. That’s when Agent Morgan appeared next to him putting his arm around his shoulders.

“What was that all about?” Morgan said with a smile playing dumb, because he knew exactly what was happening.

Spencer didn’t look at him and kept putting his stuff on his bag “What was what?”

“You have a crush on the new agent” he said with a bigger smile.

“What?” his voice went high pitch “No I don’t, what makes you think that?” He said while putting his bag over his shoulder, making Morgan let his shoulders lose.

“Oh, c’mon, pretty boy. You should ask her on a date”

Spencer started walking towards the lift followed by Morgan, and now Garcia.

“What are you guys talking about?” she asked.

“I just said that I think Reid should ask the new girl on a date”

“On a date?” Spencer said “I barely know her. You’re crazy”

“Well, that never stopped me” Morgan said with a smile winking at Garcia.

Once everyone stood inside the plane, you felt it turn on and slowly starting to move.

You opened the case file and started to read it, when you felt a body sat down next to you.

“I’m Derek Morgan” the big man said when you looked at him.

“Nice to meet you” you said with a smile.

“Is it time for the introduction?” A voice inside the computer that was in front of Agent Morgan talked and suddenly a blonde woman appeared. “I’m Penelope Garcia” she said with a big smile and you noticed all the jewellery she was wearing.

“I like your necklace” you said with a half smile.

“Oh! Thank you! That’s so sweet”

“I’m Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ” the blonde girl who talked about the case sat down infrot of you.

“I’ve seen you on TV a couple of times, you’re good”

“Thanks” she said with a smile but you noticed that she was not expecting the compliment.

“I’m Emily Prentiss, nice to meet you” she shaked your hand and smiled. “I’m sure you will feel comfortable in no time”

“I’m sure I will” you gave her a half smile.

You looked around to see if everyone introduced themselves but the guy with the glasses was very focus reading the case file. You noticed that his finger was moving quickly on the paper.

“And he’s Dr. Spencer Reid. And yes, he can read that fast.” Morgan let out a little laugh and Spencer looked up from his file.

“Ah, Yeah, nice to meet you” He said and went back to the file.

Morgan and Garcia gave each other looks and you felt confused.

“How did you ended up in the BAU?” Emily asked once she sat down across from you with a coffee on her hands.

You had an answer prepared for this kind of questions, it was not the full story, but neither a lie.

“I worked with Agents Hotch and Gideon a couple of times, I always wanted to work with the FBI, and when I found out that there was a spot for the BAU I didn’t hesitate”

“How old are you when you started? You look kinda young” Morgan said.

“I worked on my first... case when I was eighteen. Now I’m 25” you were tempted to say “mission” but remembered quickly that you couldn’t just say that and pretend that they were the same thing.

“Wow, you started really young!” Garcia said on the screen “Are you a genious like Reid?”

“No, I’m not” you said with a half smile “I just... started way to early”

“You heard that pretty boy?” Morgan said loud enough so Spencer could heard him “your spot for the baby on the team has now been compromised”

Everyone laughed and Spencer just let out a simple “Mhm” while still reading the case file.

What’s up with that guy?

****

The three days that you were on Ohio went flying, it felt like hours instead of days. But the case wasn’t finished. The profile was done, but he was fast, always a step before the team. But then he made a mistake, that’s the opportunity to catch him.

Garcia was good, she found the name of the serial killer faster that you could ever imagined, you never worked with someone like that.

You were at his house, ready to go in, with Morgan and Spencer at your side.

“He’s not here, he’s not at his job” Gideon said on the communicator that Morgan had on his shoulder, “are your ready to go in?”

Morgan looked at me and I nodded, same did Spencer.

“Yeah” He said to the communicator.

“Ok. Keep me posted”

You three approached the door and once you were all on you positions, Morgan knocked the door down and you walked in.

“Clear” Spencer said in the kitchen.

“I’m going to check the back yard” you said and Morgan nodded.

“He’s not inside the house. We are right behind you” you nodded and headed to the door that lead to the back yard.

Once outside, you noticed a leaf moving on the right side, but there was no wind. You got closer and before you could think of anything you felt a body crashing into you pushing you back.

“Hey!” You said and ran after the man.

You heard Morgan and Spencer behind you, but you were faster, being able to pass the man, put your hand on the wall next to you and push your body upwards, hitting the running man on his neck with your knee.

“Nice...” Morgan said tying to catch his breath while you put the man on handcuffs.

“Thanks” you stood up and heard Morgan talking to Gideon.

Once the whole team were back on the police stacion, you decided to stand alone outside. It was something you did after you finished a case. Being a able to think something else that wasn’t the case, that wasn’t murder... it was something you were grateful for. Those moments.

You hear the voices of your team talking and the fear of them finding out your past came into your body. Not a lot of people can pull off moves like the one you did before, they are profilers, they are smart to figure it out. Why did you think that this was gonna work out?

You sighed and closed your eyes when you felt a body stood next to you.

“Hi” Spencer said with a half smile.

“Hi” you repeated the action he did.

“You ok?” He said with a concerned face.

Wait... he didn’t even look at you when he introduced himself, didn’t even talk to you when you were on the case and now he’s concerned? What a strange man.

“I’m ok. What about you?”

“I’m fine. Used to it.” He put his hands on his pants and you noticed that he was trying to say something. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but he closed it. Yes, Spencer was trying to ask you something, but he didn’t find the courage to do it.

After a couple of sencods, he finally said “that was a good move you pulled before”

Your nerves were going way up, but you kept it cool because you knew if you showed a little bit of it, he would noticed it.

“Thanks...”

He was trying to find the confidence he had deep down there, he knew he had a lot of it, but somehow you made him feel like the most insecure man of all time. It was the way you talked, the way you moved your eyebrows when you were thinking, it was the little things he thought they made you so interesting, he wanted to read you like a puzzle, but not like the ones he did every day, you were different. He tried to think like Morgan, how does he do this all the time?

“Do you think that maybe... you would want to grab coffee sometime?” He didn’t knew how he got it out, but he did, and he was glad he did.

The question took you for surprise, and now the fear of them knowing your past turn into... happiness?

“Are you asking me on a date, Dr. Reid?” You said with a smile.

“Uh... yes... maybe, if-if you want to?” He was nervous, you could tell and that made your heart skipped a beat.

“Sure, whenever you are free” you said.

“Yeah?” He said a little bit surprised and happy that you said yes.

“Yeah, it’s a date”

“It’s a date” he nodded and both of you went back inside, with the rest of the team.

PART 2

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘This Love Came Back to Me’ Chapter 2: This is London

Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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               Being in London again, amongst the bustling streets and busy lives, had Molly in a state of wistfulness. She had been homesick since the day she left and her stomach knotted with deep-seated guilt and regret. It mystified her how this city seemed to scream his name. When she thought of London, she didn’t think of the usual things—the Thames, Buckingham Palace, Trafalger Square, or even Big Ben with its comforting chimes—but she always thought of Sherlock Holmes. He was forever connected to this place much more intimately than anything or anyone else she could think of. And connected to him was the sense of home. She had felt her heart leap in joy when she stepped off the plane.

               And now, looking up at the street sign, Molly let out a shaky breath. She had once promised herself she would never grace this very pavement if she ever lost him. And yet she found herself on Baker Street once more. In her hands were the results of their findings, and she sincerely hoped he would be cordial with her, though she knew she didn’t deserve such a kindness. 221B stared down at her as if daring her to cross the threshold, to recall her memories here, to once again face the man who lived in it, and at one time with her.

               Molly took each step with trepidation. She wished to not upset him any further, but it couldn’t be helped. Never did she think her actions would have hurt him, for she hadn’t thought he truly felt for her what she felt for him. Her presence was difficult for him and Molly hadn’t a clue how to steer clear. Being put on a case together had made matters complicated. One deep breath and she knocked lightly against the worn wood. She made out a couple of voices including his own. He must have been with a client. Turning on her foot to leave, the door was yanked open, causing her to turn back towards it, towards him.

               “Oh,” he frowned, disappointment clear on his face. “It’s just you.”

               She swallowed the lump in her throat. His callousness tore at her rapidly beating heart. “I brought some of the results for you to look over. You’ll find that there is a particular feature of interest that may turn out to be a lead.”

               Sherlock studied her with curious eyes that narrowed when he met hers. He removed the report from her hands and looked it over. “Very good, then. It looks like Mike is no longer in need of your services.”

               Molly opened her mouth to protest, stepping forward to follow him inside, but he had quite firmly slammed the door in her face before she could utter a syllable.

                When Sherlock turned his back to the slamming door, he was met with Mary Watson’s chiding expression, an eyebrow raised high. “Was it really necessary to do that?”

                “She’s the one who decided to leave,” he replied like a five year old.

                “Yes, well, that may be true, Sherlock, but I thought you wanted an explanation from her, hmm?” Mary crossed her arms, tapping her foot with impatience. “I don’t agree with how she handled things, but I hardly think it necessary to act like children.” She briefly recalled hearing about their argument in the morgue the day before.

                “I’ll stop when she does.” Sherlock was in no mood. He hadn’t seen her in years until yesterday. Molly Hooper broke his heart, betrayed his trust. He told her he loved her, and she ran away. “I once thought she loved me—but, I see now that I was wrong.”

                “She did love you, Sherlock,” Mary argued.

                “Could’ve fooled me,” he huffed. It wasn’t as if she had said the words back.

                “I think you and Molly can work things out—you’re both stubborn, and that causes a lot of damage with situations like yours. One of you needs to be the bigger person,” Mary advised. “I know you’re hurting, but this week could change things. Try to make the best of it.”

                Sherlock sighed. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

.

.

               It was official: Molly Hooper hated herself for what she did to Sherlock. If she could, she knew she would go back when things were okay and do things right. Instead of listening to her doubts and allowing herself to be persuaded into leaving, Molly would have said the words back. She would have told him what she had feared. They would have talked through it and they would still be together now. She was sure of it. He could no longer stand the sight of her. The man who held high disregard of emotions—and for good reason—gave her his heart, and she ruined him.

               The next five days in London would be torture, but she had it coming to her. This was the universe biting her back in the arse for what she had done. Molly, upon returning to her hotel room, decided to take a soak in a bubble bath to calm her nerves. Hair up in a messy bun, she sank down into the warm sudsy water, leaning her head back with her eyes closed, unable to keep herself from remembering how it used to be.

               “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered in his ear. Sherlock had drifted off, but he still held her tightly in his arms. It was as if he was afraid to let go. Molly could still feel the ghost of his love all over her body, through her, inside her. In truth, she had never been so happy. But then, why did she feel so scared?

               If he were to ever wake up one day and realise this wasn’t what he wanted, Molly promised herself she’d never walk Baker Street again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to stomach staying in London if he ever walked away. Or if, God forbid, she ever did. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, his expression one of complete serenity. It made him look ten years younger. Molly pressed her lips to his neck, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses for him. She heard him moan quietly in his sleep, and it made her smile. God, she loved him so much, her heart ached. What was it about those eight letters that were so overwhelming, so daunting? Maybe one day she’d be brave enough to say them.

               The visions in her head never stopped. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about him, about their love, magical as it was. For the first time since she arrived back in London, Molly allowed herself to cry; to grieve for them, for the man she had hurt. All she wanted to do was take away his pain, but he’d never allow her close enough to do that. Never again.    

.

.

               After a brief conversation with Mike the next day outside the morgue, Sherlock, she noticed, was fast approaching her. Molly braced herself for his scathing remarks, her whole body tensing up as if his words caused her physical pain. Instead, he shoved the manila envelope toward her, insisting she take them back. “Were my findings not to your liking then?” she asked, somewhat feeling put-out.

               “On the contrary, Doctor Hooper,” he replied, taking a moment to swallow his pride, “what you discovered is most fascinating.”

               Taken aback at the change of attitude, Molly questioned him with her eyes, her mouth slightly agape. “Yes, well, it seemed odd that our murderer went through all of the trouble of making a bloody mess of his victims when his real M.O. was a nearly undetectable poisoning.”

               Sherlock nodded. “He’s trying to keep us from profiling him correctly. He’s clever, but not as clever as you.” He felt his face flush, mentally cursing his traitorous body.

               Her eyes met his in a brief remembrance of the love they once shared. My clever Molly, he had taken to saying whenever her intellect shone through like a bright star. The man who had once admired her was still there somewhere deep down. She hoped so, anyways. As soon as the spark was there, it was gone, the air somehow colder than it had been. “If that’s all you came here for…I believe you have a murderer to catch.”

               “Wait,” he began, taking a small step forward. “It has come to my attention that I’ve been, for lack of a better word, an arse. We should be able to at least be cordial whilst working this case together.” Sherlock had a hard time meeting her eyes. “I’m…I apologise. You really are the best for the job.”

               Never had Molly felt more uncomfortable and undeserving of an apology. She gazed at him with soft, sorrowful eyes. “Thank you,” she uttered in a small voice. If he hadn’t looked so uncomfortable, himself, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve found the strength to reply. She wanted to apologise for leaving him, beg him for his forgiveness, but fear—a different kind; one of rejection—stopped her. The awkward silence was deafening and she was thankful when Greg interrupted them.

               “There’s been another body, Sherlock. Here’s your chance to go to the scene and—Molly? That you?” Greg grinned happily, going in for a hug.

               “It’s been an age,” Molly told him, her guilt eating her up inside. At least he didn’t appear to be angry with her.

               Sherlock stood by with his hands behind his back, jealousy rearing its ugly head, his stomach knotting tightly. He watched as Greg gave her a quick peck on the cheek and it took all his strength not to lash out. There was no way he could deny his feelings any longer—he still cared for Molly, still loved her despite everything, but it was clear she had moved on. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he only caught the tail end of Lestrade’s question.

               “—with us?”

               “Oh, I—well, I don’t think I should,” Molly answered, glancing at Sherlock. “It’s probably best I stay behind.”

               Greg knew things were strained between them—he had even been on the receiving end of her lack of communication. He nodded in understanding, not wanting to push her into it. “Suit yourself. How long are you here for?”

               “Just until the end of the week, then back to Galway,” she informed him. The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

               Galway, Sherlock thought. So that’s where she ran off to. It was where her grandmother was from—her father’s mother. It should have been blaringly obvious, but he had kept himself from thinking too much about it.

               “Well, do us all a favor, and phone us once in a while…yeah?” He clapped Sherlock on his back, including him in that statement.

               She nodded. “Of course.” Her eyes met Sherlock’s briefly. Never did she want to let him down again. “You have my word.”    

[voldemorthatesnose96]

Robbe IJzermans’ Log

Robbe’s short journal entry of his trip around Asia and his meeting with Sander. Enjoy❤️❤️❤️

It got yeeted so I have to repost it! Sorry!

Memory is a strange thing. Even the smallest part of it sometimes can take the biggest place in our mind, making us speechless by its beauty and sadness altogether.

But put it this way. Let’s imagine that memory is like a box of chocolate; once you eat it, you can’t stop taking it again until it’s done. It’s so decadent, bittersweet at times, a true guilty pleasure but utterly satisfying. Sound almost like memories, right?

For me, I still remember this one particular moment in life where I’ve finally falling in love with someone. No, it’s not a woman, but a man—a carefree soul, unapologetic for having such big dreams of traveling around the world, a bit selfish but have a heart as gentle as a lamb. His name is Sander Driesen.

We were practically strangers who accidentally met on 3 weeks trip around Asia. There were about 20-25 people who participated, almost all of them already knew each other. Sander even brought 3 high school friends with him. And guess what? I’m the only weirdo among this travel group. Surprise surprise.

It was genuinely frustrating for me back then. I’m the only child in the family. My parents wanted me to be a doctor someday, because both of them are surgeons. In short, my whole life is already planned. I couldn’t even take a break on Sunday because I’m always too busy to study and they were still nagging. When other boys like me playing outside blablabla, I could only dream about it. So at that point in life, I decided to take a chance, to became a rebel for some time and joined the trip. Didn’t even care that I have to emptied my saving because of it. I only got one thing in mind : “I NEED TO BE FREE!” and that was exactly what I had later. In short, I ran away from home and only left a goodbye note which said “mum, dad, I’m going to Asia for 3 weeks. Sorry and see you later”.

Anyway, meeting Sander Driesen was both endearing and strange for me. When I almost tripped while climbed up the stairs on the plane, he swiftly held my back with his palm. I turned around and caught the most alluring dark green eyes I’ve ever seen. Later, he asked me if I’m alright and my shitty brain couldn’t made the simplest word such as “yes” or “thanks”, so I just gave him an awkward nod instead and continued to climbed up without saying another word. Why the fuck did I do that??? I should’ve at least said something! Lord!

And I think fate was hating on me so much back then. Sander was actually my seatmate during the entire fly. He was also kind enough to asked me if I’m truly alright or not, and ONCE FUCKING AGAIN, I just gave him a nod, still tongue tied to say anything at all. From the corner of my eye, I saw him smirking while looking at me—didn’t know what’s that for.

There’s so many things I want to pour but sadly, I don’t have that much time to write the entire journey of my marvelous trip because I have to be at the hospital in 2 hours. But I’ll try to summarize it. Especially about Sander.

He’s also an only child, with a remarried father. He said he doesn’t hate his step-mother but if he could choose, he’d rather not be in the same room with her. His dad was actually half-begged him to not going, but Sander insisted; he wanted to see the world, needed to make the most of it and this trip was one of the best offer. He told me all this when we were at the airport in Shenzhen while waiting for our flight because it was delayed for an hour.

During our trip in Shibuya, Sander gave me a small Gudetama plushie that make could make a sound if you press it. He won it from a skill-crane and thought I’d like it because it has the same color as my sweater. And I do like it, very much and I still keep it safe inside my desk at home.

He was also introduced me to his other friends and we got along quickly. They were loud and didn’t understand the meaning of personal space, but I didn’t mind that at all. Being around them gave a brand new energy that I didn’t know exist within me.

Sander even introduced me to David Bowie’s music. That guy loves him too much, until one evening, when he was too drunk at this bar in Gangnam, he got into a small karaoke stage and started singing Rebel Rebel loudly. The others were too busy laughing and cheering, I was the only one who could convinced him to get down from the stage before he nearly took off his t-shirt. It was a rather wild night, but I enjoyed it. Every seconds of it.

Our last destination stopped in Bangkok. There was this hilarious experience where we tried this dangerous-looking fruit called “DURIAN” and boy, the smell was FUCKING HORRIBLE! Sander even had to excused himself once his nose caught the smell, and he wasn’t coming back until half an hour later. For the first time ever, I laughed at him, hard. I remembered how his expression was more amused than offended. He asked, “where’s this side of you since day one, Robbe?” and I answered in between my laugh, “I had no idea either.”

It was also Valentine’s Day. All of us were invited to a party at this club. But I got too dizzy because of the sound and everything. Not long after, Sander took me outside and we went for a walk together. It was almost 5 AM. I still remembered the night breeze across my neck, the thrill when I accidentally got too close to Sander—maybe you can call me weird but in 3 weeks only, I already fell in love with him. I fell in love with how he spoke about the world, the universe through his eyes, how his eyes always crinkled whenever he smiled, how his nose scrunched whenever he cackled, the gentleness of his voice even when he was drunk; Sander Driesen was captivated and mesmerized me in a way that no one ever could. And that time, I needed to confess, about everything that I felt. Though I couldn’t.

When we were talking about our future plan, Sander pulled out an acceptance letter at one of the most prestigious university in US. Full scholarship too.

But then, I saw doubts flashed in his eyes.

“I’m scared, Robbe.” He admitted, genuinely.

“You? Scared?”

“Because life’s never gonna be the same anymore.”

I still held my ground, kept my voice as steady as possible, “so?”

“I’ll leave my friends behind and they...”

“Secretly aren’t too thrilled about it.” I continued.

His dark green eyes were almost black now, even under the street lights.

“What will my Dad’s say? I haven’t told him yet.”

I considered it for a moment, “yeah, America is very far. When will you be going?”

“In 2 weeks, more or less.”

“Okay.”

Sander took a step closer to me, “I’ll be alone there, Robbe.”

I smiled softly at him, “and here? What about here?”

“Here feels nice. Too nice but...”

“But you want to fly,” I continued calmly. “You want madness. You want adventure. You also want to fall. I remember everything, Sander.”

“And this scholarship...”

“Will bring you a lot closer to your dreams.”

For few moments that felt like eternity, both of us just stood there and stared at each other. It was comfortable, it was needed, it was enough.

“Will you miss me?”

I grinned, “of course not.”

Biggest lie ever.

But from his face, I could tell that Sander only took that as a joke because he was simply gave me his usual dazzling smirk to me.

“Were you about to say something earlier?”

“It’s just... just wanna say that night is ended.”

Just like I thought, I couldn’t say it. Just... couldn’t say it. Because no matter how much I loved him, his love for his dream was bigger than mine and I wouldn’t want to stopped him.

I was hurt but also grateful. Every single memory that I take with me is always gonna be the part of who I am today and in the far future. I can never forget the madness, the sadness, the laughter, the thrills in those days and those nights.

Sander Driesen chased his dream so hard that he was gone in a blink of an eye. It’s almost 7 years now, he never turns back and I’m not waiting for him.

[first-living-myth]

Summer Made Children

Picture credit to @unbeknownsst

Jade hurt his ankle, and is laid up with cast and crutches. Jesse is sitting next to him, doodling heart on their cast to cheer him up.

Summer-made children, to come back to,

JESSE

"Did you fell off the tree?"

Mom indeed been working temp as a nurse (that's why she's not home every nigh; she's working in the emergency unit though the evening till early morning) not even once-- Jess ever saw someone with broken bone and casted leg in front of his eyes. He sat a little away from the bed: unnecessarily looking terrified. This is one of the weekly trip to dad's place as the adults call it, holidays. Yet if it's a holiday why Mom always looked rather sour everytime he's being picked up of the apartment? He noticed so; children always do, her tightened jaw and stifled frown and a little bid of adieu that sounded like, I want him back in Sunday before 7 pm, instead of a nice 'Have a nice weekend!'

"Did bad kids hit you?"

His eyes are all doe; the thing that would still be with him once he later grown up into a man, doe, big eyes. Although little legs just decided to took himself onto the chair right next to the older kid's study, keeping distance from the bed, afraid those little clumsy hands of his would leave the boy in pain accidentally. (he is clumsy, big one.)

"Is it broken?"

(Little gasp!)

"Do you need help!"

JADE

Jade Huang was twelve and he fell from the stairs.

The classroom is large and daunting, far too threatening for Jade's tiny brain to comprehend. He did not like it, not even the slightest. However, he dare not to refuse his mom’s will, forced him to get off to school no matter what. Typical Asian parents, he dare say. He wore plain silky white shirt, short sleeve, tapered western, baggy lightweight black pants, then also his most remarkable sceptical and somewhat supercilious, with its odd rectangular, thick dark brown glasses. It was quite unhinged actually, due to the constant damage he shoved.  He likes to throw things around when too immersed with something; bad habit never cease, just like wonder does.

Jade never once revel in commingling coeval groups, simply enough, he prefers to be alone. Hence, he wouldn’t get surprised anymore if the peers around him despise his presence; uncanny, an oddball, yet shrewd to say the least. He could never mingle well, a perfect misfit. Then, when lunch time comes, he always sits beneath the tall primeval, verdant, gigantic and gnarled, shady trees, all alone but with his fine, readable, small leather-bound books. He would read anything, from classic literature, until full-colored comics. 

Whether he will understand the contexts or not, possibly more coherent with the latter, it wouldn't be a problem. Reading was and only his solace, in amidst of boisterous cacophony.

“Oi, clotpole!”

A chubby, bald, slanted eyes, noteworthy flabby tummy, has appeared. He seems cute, yes, to others, indeed. But Jade, himself, saw the other child, named Jason, as his mortal enemy; Jason oftentimes beat Jade until he felt like his end was near, pulled childish pranks, such as stole Jade’s favorite toy and many others. As usual, he chose to be wise, at least he thought, to ignore the impudent boy. 

“I said, oi, clotplole! Didn’t you hear or are you deaf?”

“What do you want this time?” He asked, nonchalantly. 

“Buy this for me! You’re rich, aren’t you?”

Jason said with a glimmer in his eyes, playful just like a misbehaving child would, while proud, holding up a crumpled, frayed brittle, piece of paper. There was a picture of something, he was unable to limn it, because it wasn’t considered as one of his interests. One thing for certain, it was some kind of toy.

“Why?”

“Because I want to!”

“Why?”

“You’re rich?”

“Why?”

“Just buy it, motherfucker!”

“But I don’t want to, and my statement is final.” his tone surprisingly even, almost studious.

“You bloody wonker!”

The next thing Jade knows, he was at home, laid up with cast and crutches. He was unconcious for a while, and refused to talk. Even when the old fine looking aunty was talking to him, he kept his mouth shut. Albeit seen disheveled, his gaze fixated on looking at a child of eight or nine, all pale skin and thin bones and dark, tangled hair. 

Ahn Jaesuk, the name of the child. But he prefers to call him Jesse, as prolly everyone did. This is their third meeting, Jade was slightly content, thrilled yet he did want to show it. 

“Hi, Jesse.”

JESSE

"Did it hurt?"

The kid talks so much. So-fucking much, he pulls the chair closer to the bed that his curious side grows. Frown curls in response; he's so expressive in the contrary to the older boy regarding to his either reaction or feelings, big, even. He gives big reactions to almost anything.

(His expressions changes often when he's trying to read Jade's collection of books; the expression where he barely understands letters, the expressions where he found a new verb he never heard before, the expression where he  found BIG ACTIONS in the comic books! Later growing up he'll find fondness specially towards DC Comics.)

"I mean, when the bad kids hit you."

Did he come too straightforward? No means to offend, but,

"Or did you really fell off the tree!"

He's careful not to jump into the bed. Sick people needs bigger space, Mom once said. She's the nurse afterall; a pro in sick person, making them less sick, helping the doctors to help the sick. The easy way in comprehending the term in the brain of a nine year old.

"So, do you, need a help when you need to go to pee? Was it hurt when they put the cast on your feet? Mom said where the bone is broken it will be swollen and painful.

JADE

Jade is the only child and he didn't know how to deal with a little brother, the one who acted and played like so. He didn’t know how to deal with Jesse, even though he had done lots of research. By all means, reading many books that he could possibly find, few have been proven useful, but the rest look ridiculous though. A snippet from Jade’s reading material, ‘Raising A Kid’, ‘Teaching Boy About Things’, ‘Shit Brothers Said’, ‘I am A Brother’, and the list goes on. Well, what would you expect from someone mediocre, twelve years old, plain yet geeky boy? 

“Hey, do you know what word to describe someone that asks too many questions, talk too much, like you?” 

Jade asked, mimicking a wiseacre or smart aleck look alike’s expression, his brow wrinkled as he leaned in close to headboard, which was covered in white pillows, in his smaller and rather austere bedroom. 

“I read it in a book, apparently those people are called loquacious.” Jade slurs. He was slightly worried if this is the right choice or not; he was concerned, he hardly believed anything at all. One of the human nature, future is always seemed scary, because they cannot control it; predictions, however, is in another hand. Now, Jade prayed with all his might, he's able to, at least, produce a good outcome through this.  

Even so, Jade stilled in disbelief, a hefty sigh escaped successfully. It’s not like it should be a surprise, or anything, because even at the very first meeting, Jesse couldn’t shut up; a brazen young boy, inquisitive most of the time. But the child seemed fastidious about Jade’s current condition and all. Many would think Jesse was being annoying, making the whole plight vexatiously so, most certainly to a sick, helpless boy. However, Jade saw things differently, it was adorable, cute to be truth, and amusing to look at. 

He felt the sudden urge to squish, pinch those plump cheeks, when he was watching vacuously open, soft vermeil, comparatively dainty lips of Jesse’s keep moving and talking. And so, he did, unconsciously and makes wonder spread in his chest.

“It’s hurt, the pain still lingers but I guess I’m okay.” He laughed, dryly. “Someone pushed me. From the stairs. It was scary. It was high. He was bigger than you. Strange.” He said, intermittently so.

JESSE

"What?"

He sounded as chirpy, until a really, foreign word hits his ear, over a pronounciation that the little boy barely could repeat. Mouth opens; involuntarily, a gape visible, and he doesn't even know that he's making that face for that brief moment,

<: O

(That's exactly the face he is making.)

Doe-eyed, mouth-gaped, briefly silent; do all 12 years old be this cool? Or only because Jade spent more times with books instead of communicating with actual person? But Jess surely never heard that word before.

  "--Lo, locucious." Hey, he tried his best to repeat that out. Hopefully the older one still has that emphaty to correct the kid, or he will grow sticking to it until someone else is kind enough to point out. But Jess knows the word, retaliation!

Don't ask where did he learn that but Batman comics taught him so! Inclusing many scientific terms (he believed they are scientific, because, Detective Comics,) that came out of the same comic book series.

Jess also spent too much time reading colorful comics.

He gave out big reactions, remember? Again, big frown curling over his big displease of an expression in which  shifted in no time upon the progression of the story; someone pushed me, fell from the stairs, it still hurt--- he cringed a big fear, he was bigger than you; and his frown curling up into a fright. As if the older boy was telling him a horror, bed story time. (Would Jade read him bed story times?).

And he looked up the other boy with  that same fright. Is he worried? Well, look at his face right now? "....Joshua got his knee hurt too when we played football in school," Joshua, Joshua Carson, his classmate, but he didn't mention about the fact that the mentioned boy as his classmate. "He skipped school for two! Weeks! I envy!! But then I missed him so I visit him everyday after school."

Chirpy, chirpy little boy,

"Uh-oh do you want me to take your drink!!"

(The story is still in progress).

[rainiedeforest]

MDZS headcanons - Madame Lan and QIngheng-jun [PART 3]

To read the other parts:

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

***

Just two years later, almost three, the second of their children was born. Hr was smaller than Huan was, more delicate, and the midwife believed he wouldn’t survive. At least, until she heard the loud, ragged cry that came from that small chest, compared to his older brother, who was more quiet.

"How is he going to be called?" Qingheng-jun looked at his son. "What would you like his name to be?" Huan, almost three years old, shrugged and put his little hand to the baby's nose. "He's blue," he said with a frown. Aiyan smiled, stroking her older son's hair and looking at the younger one, who had closed his eyes. "Zhan." "I don't like Zhan." "Why not?" Qingheng-jun asked. Aiyan was the one in charge to name their sons. But, while Qingheng-jun was confused, Aiyan smiled sweetly to his son. "Do you know what your name means?" The youngest shook his head. It was still too early for him to know how to read. "Huan means to dissipate. You live in Cloud Recesses, a place full of clouds and mist. And when the clouds dissipate, the sky is clear and blue. One cannot exist without the other. That is why you are my two proud, my babies. Because you are going to bring the truth to this world. You are the light that will guide the future."

But the happiness didn’t last forever. Lan Qiren caught his brother skipping the seclusion to see Aiyan and faced him.

"I see you are very sorry for the death of our teacher." "Qiren." "Is that what you've been doing all this time? Skipping your seclusion to see her at night? I thought you had come to your senses and decided to behave like the leader everyone expects. I was wrong." "Qiren, please listen to me." "The elders have to know about this." "If you tell them, they will take the children away from Yingyue. She wouldn’t bare it"

Qiren looked down. As much as he hated that woman, it was the one who loved his brother and the mother of his nephews who, although he didn’t want to admit it, had given him great joy. "They were thinking of taking them off as well," he confessed and Qingheng-jun felt the world breaking. "I won't tell them anything, but... Promise me you won't see her again. If you do, you'll only do more damage."

When Qingheng-jun entered the Jinghsi, Aiyan looked at him red-eyed with tears on her cheeks. Little Lan Zhan was sleeping in his cot while Lan Huan was doing the same but in his bed.

That was a bitter night. They both hugged each other, while crying silently and looking at their children, who seemed completely oblivious to their suffering.

"I'll try to do anything so you could keep them at your side," he promised her, but Aiyan hid her face better in his neck. "We both know it’s impossible." "But you are their mother." "And your master's killer, who one of them," Aiyan stroked his hair before smiling bitterly. "We both know that I'll never be a part of the clan, no matter how many children I have. And... it's not like I want to be either. You and the children are the only thing that binds me to this place." "Aiyan..." "Do you remember what I asked you?" Qingheng-jun nodded, closing his eyes and keeping her closer to him. "Try to do it. Please. For them." "I promise. I will."

The farewell in the morning was even more bitter. In private, they could at least be a more sincere and free version of themselves. But, when they had to go back to the real world, things were different. Both had to behave and the displays of affection weren’t well received.

"A-Yan, I love you," he said, kissing her one last time on the lips, cleaning a tear that had leaked from her eyes with his thumb. Aiyan smiled and hugged him, leaving a kiss on his neck. "Me too," but the whisper died on her lips against his skin.

That was the last day they saw each other. Qingheng-jun made his way to his younger brother's bedroom and entered, finding him almost ready.

"Done. I will not see her again and Yingyue knows that they will separate her from the children, but, you have to promise me something." "Whatever you wish, xiongzhang." "You have to take care of them. Teach them, take care of them, love them as if we were there. Don't let anyone harm them." "Of course, xiongzhang." "And ... You have to let them see their mother." Qiren frowned and shook her head. "That’s impossible." "You owe me. I will behave as I promised, I will not get out of my seclusion except when necessary, and I am entrusting you, the favorite of the elders, my children, the future of the clan. But, you cannot separate them from their mother." "I'll see what I can do..."

When the elders went and took the children away (who broke down in tears), Aiyan looked bitterly at Qiren, trying to stay as impassive as possible but i was visible the pain of her soul. Lan Qiren interceded in front of the elders and asked them, while the children were young, to allow them to see their mother once a week, but the most he got was one day a month.

He communicated to Qingheng-jun the decision of the elders and he nodded, returning to his seclusion. The following month, he brought both children and a small package to the woman. "I will come back for them tomorrow morning."

Lan Huan filled her with questions, so many that many of them couldn't be answered. She could only smile and distract him, playing with him and little Lan Zhan, singing a lullaby to them to sleep and watching them sleep until the next morning.

"You haven't opened the package," Qiren told him. "I will when I’m alone." The package was full of little things that reminded him of when Qingheng-jun apologized. A sad smile formed on her lips.

Her only contact with Qingheng-jun was the packages she received each month, along with her precious children, who were getting bigger every day.

Lan Huan was kind, sweet and caring, and he showed incredible sensitivity for his age. He had his eyes and his nose and Qingheng-jun's smile and features. Lan Zhan was a small sticker of her brother, but he didn't smile as much, being as reserved as she was in many ways.

She loved having them with her, each month learning something new. Lan Huan showed a great interest in her xiao, Liebing, and Lan Zhan clung to her in search of cuddles, even when he blushed and closed in on himself, as he had seen his father do the first time when she had kissed him.

She never asked about the studies because he knew that Lan Qiren was taking care of them, at Qingheng-jun's request. She didn't understand his decision, but if it was going to make her children safe and sound, she would accept it.

But she did try to get to know them more. Lan Huan was kind, intelligent, and observant, but his big heart would bring him a lot of trouble. She hoped no one would take advantage of him. On the other hand, Lan Zhan was stubborn, reserved, and had trouble expressing himself, but his heart was as big as his brother's. She had two angels for children and she couldn't be more proud.

Soon after Lan Zhan turned six, Aiyan began to feel ill. She didn’t understand, since she didn’t go out and the only one she had contact with were her children. It didn't seem like an illness, either, so what was going on? One day, when Lan Qiren went to pick up the children, she said goodbye to the children in a more affectionate and effusive way, keeping the Jinghsi's door open until they left and disappeared from her sight. However, just as they were about to leave through the garden gate, a dizziness made her lose her balance and collapse.

Lan Qiren asked Lan Huan to take Lan Zhan, that everything was fine, and when the children left, he hurried over to Aiyan.

"I am dying, Lan Qiren." "No, it was just a dizziness." Aiyan smiled bitterly and shook her head, feeling him help her lie down on the bed. "I'll call the doctor and you'll be fine." "The poison cannot be counteracted when it has already harmed the body." "Poison?" Aiyan closed her eyes and tried to breathe. The simple act of taking a breath hurt. She had realized it too late and there was nothing she could do. "On the table are four letters. Two of them I want you to give them to my children when they go to receive their courtesy name. Another one is for Tiaohe." "And the last one?" "The last one is for you. Read it when you are alone."

Aiyan couldn't stay awake much longer. With tears running down her cheeks, Aiyan asked Qiren to tell them she loved them, before exhaling her last breath.

Lan Qiren was forced to tell the news not only to Qingheng-jun, but to his nephews and elders. Qingheng-jun received the news as straightly as he could before bursting into tears, shattered, hugging the letter in his chest. Lan Qiren hated Aiyan for leaving him alone. The older ones took it much better, eventually having to hide their victory smiles.

But the worst was when he told Lan Huan and Lan Zhan. The eldest of his nephews burst into tears while Lan Zhan looked at his uncle in confusion. "Muqin is at home." "Your mother is not coming back, Lan Zhan." "Yes, she is," replied the smaller one, folding his arms.

Aiyan's funeral was discreet and no news was sent outside the clan. No one wanted to have to explain. No one had attended the clan leader's wedding, what caused rumors. No one had seen the wife of the clan leader, causing more gossip. They didn’t need her death to provoke more. So they kept it a secret in the hope that this whole dark and black chapter of disgrace to the clan would end finally.

Lan Zhan, every month, kept going to the Jinghsi, waiting for her mother to open the door. This caused him punishments and a cold that almost killed him. Lan Huan, on the other hand, tried to be strong and not show his pain, although in the morning it was seen that he didn’t rest and his eyes were red because of the crying.

That woman continued to haunt her children even after she died. Her children and Qingheng-jun, who had withdrawn even more in himself in seclusion and barely saw his children.

"Don't you want to see them?" "They remind me too much of her." "Xiongzhang, they need their father." "Now are you going to give me parenting lessons, Qiren?"

Lan Qiren kept the letter, minus Qingheng-jun's, stored away. He didn’t read his until the night before the Lan Huan naming ceremony. In the letter, Aiyan asked him to name them Xichen and Wangji respectively. She had been thinking about their names very carefully and she wanted her children to be free, to live in a world of light and to not have to be enveloped in the darkness of pain.

Another of her wishes was for Liebing and Bichen to be given to both of them, the first for Lan Huan who had found such appreciation for xiao, and the second for Lan Zhan, who had once looked at the sword curiously.

She thanked him in the letter for taking care of her children and hoped that he would continue doing so in the future, since they were her two joys. Lan Qiren was angry, because she didn't say anything about Qingheng-jun. Hadn't he loved his brother? But Aiyan had already taken it upon herself to put all her feelings in the letter to that husband she had received by surprise.

When the Wen clan, years later, attacked Cloud Recesses, and Qingheng-jun fell ill, Lan Qiren remained by his side. "You have to live, xiongzhang." "It’s my time, Qiren." "Your children need you." “My children needed their mother, not me. You have already taken care of them and guided them. Thank you." "Xiongzhang, please." "Xichen will be able to guide the clan in the future. He has become a good man. And he has his brother Wangji to help him. Together they will do it fine.”

Qingheng-jun asked him to open the doors, so that he could see the moon. He could barely move out of bed. “Thank you for taking such care of them, Qiren. You could have had your own life and..." "I have been delighted of doing it, xiongzhang. I love them as my own children.” "I know. And forgive me. I wish that everything had been different.” "Xiongzhang, please don't speak. You need to rest." "Yingyue would have liked you. I hope I have the pleasure of introducing you to her in another life.” Lan Qiren tried not to cry. Even in his last moments, the last words of his brother were for her. "My precious Yingyue..." Qingheng-jun said looking at the moon. "Wait for me, Aiyan, we will be together soon."

The funerals weren’t as majestic as they should have been. They were at war, there was nothing left of Cloud Recesses and the next leader, Lan Xichen, was missing, trying to protect the clan's legacy.

Only when Lan Qiren was about to die, he did give his nephews their mother's letters, apologizing to both of them for taking so long and telling them the true story of their parents. Perhaps he should have listened more to his xiongzhang, perhaps the story would have been different.

Both, Xichen and Wangji passed the night crying, as when they were kids, only to be sure to let the clan know the true story, cleaning their parent’s names.

***

And that’s all. I have headcanons of how Lan Zhan and Lan Huan have lived all of this, but that’s another story. Also, sorry if it hasn’t had the structure or form of headcanons (and parts like it was a fic), but I don’t know how to made them better. 

Hope you like them. If you have different headcanons I will love to read them, and if you want other headcanons, you can always hit my inbox :3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[yorit1]

Ben is 3 months away from giving birth when Callum tells him he has no choice but to go back to the army and obviously Ben is distraught and he ends up going into labour on the day that Callum leaves (which is the day after Callum tells him) and he and their daughter Florence Isabell Highway, end up really really sick. Feel free to expand this

Callum received a letter from the army, telling him that he was going to be deployed to Iran in a few days. He did not know how to tell Ben this. Ben was six months pregnant with their daughter. Ben was not having the easiest of pregnancies, and he was worried that the stress of him being deployed would send Ben over the edge. Callum was also disappointed that he would not be there for the birth of their daughter. 

Callum goes into their room to tell Ben the news.

“Callum something wrong?” Ben asked seeing the look on Callum’s face.

“I just got a letter from the army. I will be deployed in a few days. I don't want to leave you alone. YOu and our little Izzy are the two most important people in my life. The army is no longer my dream. I just want you to know that I love you.”

Those few days passed by quickly and it was time for Callum to leave. Ben was sad and cried when Callum left. He was not feeling well, he kept feeling pain in his belly. He thought that it was baby Izzy missing her daddy as well. He was trying to go on with his day and made himself something to eat. He had really bad pain and fell onto the floor. He could not move and his pain was worse, it felt like his insides were contracting. Luckily he had his phone in his pocket, he called his mum to come over. 

“Mum, mum!!” Ben called out when Kathy entered the house.

She ran to him immediately. “Ben you're in labour.”

“No its too soon. Izzy isn't big enough. Callum isn't here. I can't do this.”

“Ben it’ll be okay. I phoned the ambulance. we’ll get you through it.”

Ben did not know how long he was on the floor. The paramedics soon arrived and took him to hospital. 

“24-year-old male, 6 months pregnant, in labour.” The paramedic told the nurse.

Ben was taken up to the maternity ward. While he was being wheeled there he felt like he peed himself. Oh shit, Izzy was coming. He started to hyperventilate. He couldn't do it. What was he supposed to do? 

Ben was told that he was 6 cms dilated and that it was too late to have an epidural. Ben was laying for another hour in agony, Kathy holding his hand. The doctor told him that it was time to push. Ben did not feel like he could do this. He was not ready. One more push he was told he took all his strength to push and passed out. 

The baby was not breathing. They did CPR on her and when they got her breathing put her in a tube in NICU. They also had to help Ben through the afterbirth while he was still passed out. 

Ben woke up a little while later. “Izzy? Where is she?”

“She is in NICU. They are helping her breathe so that she can be strong.”

“I want to see her. I want to see my daughter.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” the nurse said, “you need to focus on yourself first.”

“Now I want to see my daughter now. DO you know who I am? Take me to her now.”

The nurse went to get a wheelchair to wheel Ben to see his daughter. He saw his baby girl plugged up to many different machines. She could not yet breathe on her own. His little baby was sick. What was he supposed to tell Callum? How was he supposed to do this alone? 

A few days later Ben was well enough to be discharged. Baby Izzy was growing stronger day by day. Today Ben can hold her so that he would be able to bond with her. The doctors think that She will be able to breathe on her own next week. This was all very difficult for Ben. He loved Florence Isabel Highway, watching her grow stronger and bigger each and every day was a blessing. Ben suddenly hear beeping from one of her machines and doctors and nurses rushed in. Ben was forced out of the room. His baby girl was sick, and there was nothing he could do to make her better. He needed to know what was wrong with her.

“Izzy tried to breathe on her own and it was more difficult then she thought and we thought. We will try again in a few days. Spend as much time as you can with her, and talk to her as much as you can.

A few long days later the doctors saw that she was strong enough to breathe on her own. They let her do that and she started breathing on her own. Ben let out a sigh of relief. They put the baby in his hand. Ben held baby Izzy and felt like he too could breathe for the first time in days. He will try to reach Callum and let him know that their baby girl was breathing on her own. Ben knows that no matter what happens he will always love Florence Isabel Highway unconditionally. 

[thatbangtanbloom]

bound || pjm, jjk [6]

Bound

⌇ Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin ⌲ Reader

      ✿ Angst, Fluff

⥽ Soulmate!AU, Best Friends!AU

❝Who said that genetics had to determine who you fall for?❞

The Prologue| 1| 2| 3 | 4| 5| 6

Word Count: 2,068 

It was that day that Jimin kept his promise, with his heart tucked away in your loose grasp and tears staining his cheeks, that day was the last time that you saw Park Jimin. It was the last time that your waist seared with pain has he held you close in reassurance. It was the last time that he kissed away your frown and pulled you close to his chest as you slept when he felt you squirm from an undesirable dream.

When Jimin had left the hospital that day, he wondered if life was worth living, unsure of what his new aims would be when he no longer had you by his side. Was he to continue his schooling and dance, knowing that you would follow him and beg him to stay? Would you be upset that he left without warning? He knew how easy it would be to talk himself of saying goodbye, to rush back into the hospital room and figure out a way to make it work. But he reassured himself that he left you in good hands - he had left you behind with Jungkook.

Jungkook, your real soulmate. Jungkook, whose hugs did not feel as though they were made of ice or needs. Jungkook, who was devoted to loving you, sacrificing his own time to look after you on the days that Jimin had both work and school. It was Jungkook who stayed by your side. Partly because of the soulmate mark that adorned his arm. Partly because he loved you.

Jungkook held his breath every morning that you were in the hospital - it lasted twelve mornings in total - and each day felt like it would be his last, for not only your soulmate clocks were tied together, but so were your biological clocks.

As you remained unconscious on the hospital bed, only connected to Jungkook by the ventilator and heart monitor, Jungkook’s own health began to decline as well. He grew weak, barely able to keep his eyes open as he fought off nurses from trying to take him away from your side. There were times when he coughed up variants of the human body that should not be coughed up and doctors worried to the brink - yet, Jungkook was adamant. Jimin had already left you behind. He would be damned if he did too.

On the thirteenth morning, you woke up before Jungkook did, turning away from him to press the red button and call for a nurse, the contents of your stomach emptied out into a small bucket that had been set up for Jungkook previously. You never saw anyone as happy as Jungkook when he awoke to you that morning. That morning was a blur, a rush of the doctors checking your vital signs and most importantly, checking your soulmate clock (despite it already being broken). It was still broken, but Jungkook’s was more than enough for the questioning doctors.

You were safe, but more importantly, you were with Jungkook.

When the two of you were finally able to return home, Jungkook wanted to avoid the elephant in the room. He could see the confusion in your eyes as you no longer saw any of the pictures with Jimin that had been taken over the years: the photo of the two of you eating ice cream at five, holding hands during field day when you were nine, the two of you at your first school dance in middle school and your first kiss at seventeen. Gone were all of Jimin’s things, the duffel bag that he had taken to dance practice, the drawers of his clothes were empty, just like you.

But nevertheless, the question that Jungkook dreaded the most came, “Where is Jimin?” You asked, and your voice is barely above a whisper as you plop down onto the couch. The memory of Jimin and you moving the couch is flutters to mind, how tired the two of you were, how Jimin moved with ineffectual grace to bring the two of you iced lemonade and how tightly he held you, kissing your forehead and saying how happy he was… and all of that, gone.

Jungkook pretended that he did not hear, he spoke animatedly. “I was thinking that we could finally go on our first date.. I know you don’t like running or wall climbing, so I was thinking that we could go to the movies or maybe to this festival that my friend, Yugyeom was telling me about-”

“Jungkook, please.” You whispered softly as you looked at him from the couch, how tired yet happy he looks. The bags under his eyes were evident and his hair has grown slightly long, slightly curly. He looked older and you frown. You hated the idea that you were the one who did this to him. “Where is Jimin?”

Yet, he was persistent, moving around the kitchen as a way to busy himself. “The festival is something I think you might like. It has a great food section and some of your favorite artists. I was going to buy the tickets and we could even match. You always talked about how you liked that-”

“With Jimin.” You deadpanned and you closed your eyes tightly as a searing pain ran through your head. “Jimin, Jungkook, tell me where he is!”

It took the mention of his name, how tied you were to it, to make the smile on Jungkook’s face drop and his heart ached. “Y/N-ah-”

“Jimin.” You rasped his name as though it is your last word. Somehow, you have walked into the kitchen to force Jungkook to look at you. “Where is Jimin?”

“He left.” Jungkook said as he placed the dishes into the kitchen sink. The clatter was loud, much like Jungkook’s feelings for you, and he swallowed so hard that you can see his Adam’s apple bob.

Your world shattered at his words. Jimin - he left? It was something that he always talked about. It was usually in the night when he did so, when the pain was at its worst and you could not sleep at night. How many sleepless nights had the two of you gone through that you did not worry that it was your last?

Jungkook sweared that he is going to cry. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he can barely concentrate on the fact that you are standing in front of him. Or maybe that was the only thing that was on his mind. “How long are you going to ignore my feelings for you?” He asked and his voice is barely above a whisper. “How long do you plan on running away from me when you know that I will try to catch you every single time?”

You averted your eyes to the ground, barely able to focus as you lean against the counter. “Jungkook-”

“No, listen to me.” Jungkook has indignation in his voice as he walked over to you. His voice sounds heavy and full, as though he was on the brink of tears. “I love you with all my heart. No one has ever come before you,” His voice is shaky and he hates that his voice goes to a higher octave. “But why is that you know everything but my heart for you? I know that I am not who you desire… but does it not count for something that I am here and he isn’t?”

You took in a shaky breath at his words. “He--”

“Y/N-ah… we are soulmates.” Jungkook whispered as he took two steps to you before dropping to his knees. He moved faster than you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he clings to you as though you would fall apart and the remnants would fly away from him. “You give me purpose… Without you, I do not have anything or anyone… No one matters to me but you. So if I am not enough for you… please tell me how I can be.” His voice cracked on the last word. “Please don’t send me away… Don’t run away from me when I try to love you. There is no limit to how much I will run for you… I want to spend my every minute with you, soulmates or not. In every life, I would find you and choose you.”

His words tugged at your heartstrings, but Jimin’s everything had your heart.

And that was the only thing that kept you from not collapsing into his arms.

As time passed, a routine developed between the two of you. “Jungkook had gone out to search for a job that morning and you did not start work until the afternoon. As time passed, the two of you had grown domestic. Jungkook no longer slept on the floor, but with chest against your back, his arms wrapped around you so that he would never let you go, and his face buried in the crevice of your neck. Not once did you feel an ice noose around your heart or a pain in your waist from him. Both emotionally and physically you were beginning to heal.

Two months had passed before you received your first letter from Jimin.

To my dearest angel,  Y/N,

How have you been these days? Every morning I wake up and think about if you are okay. I’m going to do my best to make this letter not so emotional. I don’t want to worry you about how I am doing… I will simply write how I feel and how I am doing now.

Jungkook updates me every now and then… he’s a sweet dongsaeng and I am happy that he does that. He told me that you cried the first week that I was gone and that he tried to wipe your tears but you wouldn’t let him… please let him. As much as I love you, I would be a fool to not see that he does too. Destiny did not move for us. But it did move for Jungkook and you.

I still dance, but I am no longer in Busan. I found a new job at a big company, so I can afford to move in a bigger place than before.  I made new friends, all very nice and they’ve helped me realize things about myself, things that I could have never learned when I was with you.  I have made a close friend; he is my roommate and his name is Kim Taehyung, and he is from the countryside. He used to pick strawberries during his childhood, so when we grocery shop, we never buy ones that would mold fast. He is very nice and he knows how I feel. He has a soulmate, but she died a year ago. You haven’t died, but at times I feel like we were torn apart by each other, from this stupid system. Taehyung says that he wishes at times that he were like me, that it would be easier to accept, but I would not wish this on anyone. I hope that you would be able to meet him one day. He is very kind and thoughtful.

I still feel empty, wondering what it feels like you have your lips on mine, or have your hand in mine, but I hope that one day I will be able to get over it. I doubt that I ever will though. At times, I wonder if I have lost myself or gained you when I stare up at the stars. But then I remind myself that we are fortunate to be under the same moon, the same stars, and look up to the same galaxy. We may not have our own galaxy, but there was a time when we overlapped.

I hope that you realize that it was best for us to let each other go. Your health was in danger and it pained me to know that I was the one who was not best for you. I wish that in some other life that I could have been… I hope that one day in the future we can move past this, without hard feelings or lingering feelings, and see each other again.

I still love you.

Your Park Jiminie.

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

Don’t be a silent reader! Feel free to send your reactions or any questions that you may have! :)

[thedyingmoon]

💜 This I Promise 💜

***

LXV. Home

***

It was late afternoon when they finally arrived at the old Ral farm. And when they finally arrived, they found out that the Reeves Corporation is already tearing down the place.

"Bucky, we'll stop right here." ordered Claire as she observed how the men worked at the fields, how they dismantle the stables, how they put 'keep away!' signages around the property, and how they start tearing down the little house, itself, where (F/N) grew up.

"Grandma," began (F/N) worriedly as she gazed at the old woman's tired figure - a clear indication of her fatigue for travelling for almost a day from Orvud to the remote village near Trost in Wall Rose.

However, the old woman just held up an authoritative hand. "I'm fine." she said, then put on her wide brimmed hat to cover her face. After that, both women got out of the simple carriage they rented to prevent the snooty majority of Wall Sina elites from noticing them.

(F/N), upon stepping foot on the now chaotic land where she used to play, was beyond distraught. She was both angry and sad.

"What are you doing with my family's land?!" (F/N) said as she grabbed the shoulder of a farm hand who was helping Reeves' men.

The farmhand just looked at her with utter disdain and shrugged his shoulders as if none of those things he was doing mattered.

"Dunno, Miss." he said to her. Then, he pointed at the main man who was shouting orders left to right to his fellow workmates. "Just ask the man, himself. If you can."

But, before he could even tell (F/N) that, she was already determined to storm her way towards that man. And when she finally got there, the man acted as if he didn't even notice her.

"Excuse me!" (F/N) screamed to let herself be heard above all the noise these men were making. "I demand you to let me know what you're doing with my family's land!"

And to (F/N)'s utter disgust, the man they called 'Boss' remained unfazed by her presence.

Her shoulders dropped. She felt so humiliated upon being ignored like a foolish child. And when she looked back at her grandmother, she saw the old woman nod and turn to Rogers, who cleared his throat, strode towards the Boss, and grabbed his shoulder to finally call his attention.

The Boss turned and was shocked upon seeing the tall Head Butler who stood much taller than him.

"What do you want?" the Boss grumpily asked Rogers.

"My Lady demands you to let her know what you're doing with her family's land." Rogers answered in a clear and intimidating voice.

But, the Boss did not seem to care in the least. He just looked at Rogers in the eye and snickered at him.

"Oh, was that your master?" the Boss sarcastically said. "I thought it was just a little squirrel begging for food!"

To this, all the workers present all laughed, making (F/N) as red as beetroot.

"I've had enough of this." Claire said then strode towards the men. Rogers noticed this and tried to stop the Duchess from making a scene and failed. The Boss noticed her and looked dow upon her as if she was his own grandmother.

"How can I help you, ma'am?" the Boss uttered in a mocking voice that finally ignited the flames of anger that the Duchess was keeping the entire time.

"How much does this land cost?" she said, all the while gritting her teeth.

The Boss heard this clearly and he honestly thought that he was just hearing things. "Come again, granny?"

"I said, HOW MUCH DOES THIS FUCKING LAND COST?!" the Duchess blurted out, finally exploding in anger.

The workers, including the Boss, himself, went quiet as they watch the Duchess stand right in front of them like they're animals. The smile on the Boss' face vanished as he went closer towards the Duchess.

"Granny, dear, I'm afraid this land belongs to me now. Ral wasn't able to pay for his rent, so I'm taking these all for myself."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, I'm asking you how much this land cost, you imbecile!"

The Boss drew back in terror at the tone of Claire's voice that he finally gave in and lied,

"About two million worth of gold. But, that doesn't include Ral's rent. That's three in total."

The Boss was hoping that with the absurd amount he just gave the little old woman, she would stop pestering him. Instead, she gestured at Rogers with her gloved hand. The Head Butler nodded and took out a thick bankpad from his coat pocket and gave it to her. The Duchess took it, along with a pen that Rogers just handed her.

And then, all of them, including (F/N), watched in awe as the Duchess wrote on a single note. She took that same note and handed it to the Boss, who looked at it and,...

... froze in complete terror.

His eyebrows furrowed in anger. He pointed an accusing finger towards the old lady.

"Who do you think you're playing with? Do you expect me to believe that this is even a real banknote?!"

But, the Duchess could never be threatened.

"Well now, you really are an imbecile if you can't even read properly! Now, I demand you leave this place before I call the Police to throw you in dungeons for your disrespect! I'll have you know that I have the power to keep you there and your filthy men until you rot and die!"

The Boss clicked his tongue in defeat and gestured for his men to stop whatever they're doing and vacate the place. And when they're finally gone, Claire went to the nearest tree stub and collapsed. Both (F/N) and Rogers went towards her in alarm, but they were just stopped.

"I'm fine. I just needed a little rest." Claire breathed. Then, she turned towards (F/N) and waved her off. "You go do what you have to do, my dear."

(F/N) smiled and went towards Claire anyway. She engulfed the old woman in a warm hug and thanked her.

She felt strong enough to face this, but the moment she entered her old home, she knew that her the strength she drew was slowly failing her.

One by one, all the happy memories she had with the family who took care of her through the years went back to her, haunting her and giving her a heartache so unbearable that she almost dropped to the floor.

But, she couldn't let herself be fazed and decided to go on. She told herself that she have to bestrong, but every remnant of her old home kept hurting her.

She still couldn't believe that her father was long gone, and she was awfully guilty that she failed to go to him in his time of need. She could even still remember the words of the Doctor who wrote to her,

I'm very sorry to say that your father has passed due to an incurable illness. And for that, you must immediately come to the Trost District Hospital grounds to witness the incineration of his body. It hurts me to tell you this, but should you fail to attend, we must still incinerate Mr. Ral's body to prevent the spreading of the disease.

But, of course, that was a month ago when she was still suffering from amnesia. So, the moment she finished reading the wretched letter from the Doctor, she, together with Claire and Rogers, went immediately to the said Hospital, only to find her father already in an urn and reduced to ashes.

Tears fell down her face as she took the small, porcelain urn from her large bag and placed it on top of the fireplace, bringing her father home. Only then did she let herself collapse on the floor as she drown herself in her own tears.

Claire heard her and entered the tiny house. She found (F/N) there on the floor, still crying her eyes out. She went towards her and kneeled right beside her, despite the complaint of her aching joints due to signs of ageing.

"You did what you could, dear." she whispered gently to (F/N) as she comforted her. "Don't blame yourself."

"If only I was stronger, then this wouldn't have happened." the girl said, fell right on the older woman's arms and cried there. "I'm such a useless person!"

"Hush, dear. Don't say that. It's not your fault. Things happen for a reason. And for those reasons, we must keep on getting stronger emotionally." Claire told her as her eyes surveyed the whole room, so unlike the environment where she grew up. Right then and there, she had decided to turn things around for (F/N) to make up for her very long absence. "Dear?"

(F/N) looked up and gazed at the eyes of her grandmother.

"You have a lovely home."

(F/N) slightly smiled as she wiped her tears away. "You have a far, lovelier home. And bigger than this."

"Oh, shush! Yes, my house is, indeed, big. But, not as warm as your home. I was alone for a very long time with nothing but spiteful neighbors around me. But, you, my dear, you grew up in a very nice place where you're loved and fed and taken care of like a true family. And for that, (F/N), I will forever be grateful."

Both women smiled at each other, knowing that a strong bond was beginning to tie them together as one family.

"Grandma."

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you so much. For everything."

Claire smiled as she wiped a single tear of happiness from her tired eye.

"I'm so glad you're back. I really am. And for that, I will turn this home into my home, as well. We'll fill it with warmth and laughter, and I will make it up to you and caref for you as long as I live."

(F/N) began crying once more, but it was no longer of sadness and mourning, but of peace and happiness.

"I love you so much, grandma."

"I love you, too, dear!" Claire exclaimed in delight, having heard, for the very first time, her grandchild saying those words. And they were about to embrace once more, but stopped and giggled as they noticed Rogers crying in a far corner of the room,...

***

Both women were awfully tired, and when they finally got back to their mansion in Orvud, they were determined to rest and relieve their stress.

But, a simple announcement from a servant left (F/N) with a feeling of total dread. She strode towards the living room as fast as she could, and there, standing in the middle of the room and waiting for her, was,...

"Captain Levi?" (F/N) muttered in disbelief.

"(F/N)." he answered solemnly.

***

Lord Shunerman and Lady Baxter were still arguing when they arrived at the doorstep of their new home in Stohess District of Wall Sina.

"And may I say!" Elvis exclaimed. "I would not have these bloody bandages around my leg and arm if it weren't for your insatiable appetite to seek revenge!"

"Shut the hell up, Shunerman!" Jacqueline nagged as she strained to turn towards her fiance' despite the pain her neckbrace was causing her. "If it weren't for MY insatiable appetite for revenge, we wouldn't be able to retrieve what's truly ours!"

"For the cost of our lives?! For the sake of all the three Walls, if it weren't for that bloody newspaper you stole from a visiting nobleman, I could still be - "

"Drinking your fat heart out? Hah! You should be thankful that I brought us here!"

"You?! The Scouting Legion people saved us from those armed men, not you! And we almost died because you kept banging on their door!"

"Shut up!"

On and on they nagged. They were still nagging as they opened the door and crossed the cold threshold of their house. Even as they light a single candle to guide their way, they were still nagging.

Until they noticed a single note on top of the glass - top table.

"Is that yours, Jackie?"

"Don't be a fool! This is the first time I entered this house."

After that realization hit them, they both stared at each other. A few moments later, they decided to pick up the note and open it. Together, they read the note that was left to them,

I' am returning this house to you. I feel I' am obliged to thank you for letting us use your house for a few months. Do not worry, we did not take anything of importance. We are also returning the documents we borrowed, and I feel that I should let you know that I have kept this place clean and without speck. Should you disgrace this house by leaving your filth around, I will personally take back the migration documents from you and kick you out of this wretched house, myself.

That is, if I'm ever going to return from our last Expedition.

Yours,

L.A.

***

~ @levi4mikasa , @yepps , @chocolate-mmilk , @nerdyphantomlady , @unhappysap , @shewolfofficial , @super-peace-fangirl , @fangurl-ontgeside , and @emilyackerman78 . 💜

***

💜💜💜

***

[aceyanaheim]

Cake and Everything.

I did a thing for Seto’s birfday.

I made a post a while back about a crossover with X23′s comics. I guess this counts as my first try at that.

Mokuba Kaiba is five years old, he is the second son of Gozaburo Kaiba, he has been legally a Kaiba for all of a  year.

He also will not stop crying.

Laura knew the first line of information from her assignment sheet, the one she had gotten the moment Gozaburo Kaiba had given a generous amount of funding to the facility for an upgrade to his security system. 

The second one became apparent as soon as she woke up that morning. 

To be fair Mokuba doesn’t cry often. Not if he’s entertained, and not if he has his brother. 

Neither of those things are true today, so Mokuba sits surrounded by adults who so clearly want to calm him down and so clearly are bad at it.

Laura’s no expert by any measure, she was trained out of crying by the time she was that age. But she knows from Mokuba’s file that he is five, and from observations  that he dislikes being crowded by strangers ( which is how he sees the bodyguards really) when he’s upset.

She walks forward and some of the suits part ways. Some of them might know what she is. Know that there’s a reason a thirteen year old girl was given the same job as theirs. Still when she gets closer, one of them stares at her like he wants an explanation.

Laura offers none, steps up until she’s inches from him. He has to look down to meet her eyes.

“You are too close to him”

Her voice is monotone but her eyes are steel. The bodyguard scoffs, tries to get past her.

Snikt . 

His eyes widen and he’s backing away pretending he didn’t just jump back from a child. Laura catches something like “crazy animal” muttered as he walks away and “where did she even keep that blade”

She turns back to Mokuba, the matter resolved in her mind. 

No one’s ever been able to find a blade on her.

She stares at Mokuba, making sure to stay a few steps away. By the time the little boy’s finished crying she’s crouching in front of him still at the same distance.

Mokuba sniffles once, wipes his eyes on his sleeve and finally says ‘It’s nissama’s birthday.” like it's news he’s trying to spread and no one will listen to. 

Laura knows what birthdays are to some degree, she’s had missions to kill people on their birthday parties, and the name itself is fairly self explanatory. 

But she doesn’t quite grasp the significance of the statement. She recalls there was cake in one of them, music in another...balloons? Yeah there were balloons in both. She recalls that much.

 But she certainly doesn't understand why the child is so distressed. 

Still she offers her hand to Mokuba, because she knows he often seeks comfort after he’s done crying. Doesn’t prod because observation has taught her he’s going to make it clear to her soon enough just what about birthdays is so upsetting.

Mokuba often tells his tales in bits and pieces. He’s at an age when his vocabulary grows every day but he still has a hard time fully wielding it.

“I wanted a present for him and they won’t-they don’t listen.” he mutters as they walk. “They’re stupid”

Laura looks around. The staff that had been swarming Mokuba before-no doubt called each after the other because none of them knew how to calm a crying child-are all but gone now. She allows herself words.

“They are” she says and receives a giggle for it.

She has an objective now, Laura’s good with objectives. 

“Where do you find presents?” she asks and Mokuba’s eyes light up like the stars she counts when she can’t sleep at night.

Less than a year ago Laura had been given a packet slid under her room door like so many before it. This one wasn’t on a mark, and that surprised her. Rather it was information. Information on the man that had bought her, the man she’d be protecting. Information on the children under his care. With it came a bag, in the bag were clothes for upscale events and instructions to only use them then. No timer watch this time, no return date. She had been sent out to the Kaiba’s manor so early the nicer doctor -the one she was not allowed to call her mother even if the word fit- had been in to see her that day.

It was a long mission; protect and serve Gozaburo Kaiba for as long as he had her. Make sure the  house was secure. Kill on his orders.

Make sure the children under his name were not harmed by anyone but him.

The moment she met Seto his eyes narrowed. Standing across from her and Gozaburo with Mokuba clinging to him. He didn’t trust her. Laura didn’t blame him. 

She thought that he still didn’t but then he was kept away most of the time. To study, rumor had it. To Laura on the spare moments they crossed paths it looked like he was on missions of his own but her place was not to query. That wasn’t part of the mission.

He apparently trusted her with Mokuba’s safety more than the rest of the staff, because Laura found herself  shadowed by the younger Kaiba whenever she wasn’t on assignment for his father or patrolling the grounds.

It tended to be more often lately. Her first mission was to kill someone as a statement and the lesson stuck. After Gozaburo sent her after a few people very few have dared to cross him enough for him to call on her.

And Mokuba was always alone, never minded by anyone when Seto was gone. Rationally, Laura figured if anyone was a weak point to exploit by an intruder with bad intentions, it was the first grader no one bothered with who entertained himself by wandering the mansion.

Mokuba for his part seemed to only need the smallest sign of approval before he threw himself into conversation. He talked about whatever he had found that day, whatever he had learned, what drawing he made for Seto that day. Laura didn’t always talk back. He didn’t seem to mind that.

And now here they were.

Presents are, she is informed very enthusiastically, found at stores. It had given Laura pause, leaving the grounds of the estate. 

Gozaburo wouldn’t care, she knew that. She was his weapon all that mattered to  him was that she be at his side when called. The staff would hardly notice their absence, she knew that too. 

But Seto would. She remembered the way he held Mokuba to him, the way his eyes narrowed at her. What would he say about this?

Could he say anything about this? She belonged to Gozaburo but something about the way they had looked when they first met, something about the looks the staff shared around the youngest Kaiba, how they barely spoke to him something about how they acted when Seto was present with Mokuba  put in her mind the idea that Mokuba was not. Mokuba was Seto’s if he was anyone’s.

Mokuba’s pulling her by the hand now, tears from before forgotten. Laura rationalizes that if she’s with him wherever he goes and is able to come back if needed, she’s doing her job.

She does not, she thinks, have to see Seto when Mokuba gives him the present, and tells him where he got it from.

Mokuba’s coins are kept in a tattered old coin purse that looks like a frog.

It’s the kind that closes at the mouth. A remnant from the children’s home he carried from his new home. His nissama taught him to count, had figured a way to give him some pocket money in the scant moments he saw him. In case Mokuba wanted ice cream or a trinket or a toy.

He saved it all. It’s enough for a box of cards Seto will have to hide from a bin with Discount written in bold letters ( to Mokuba that makes it extra special. It’s a secret, just between them)

He stands on his tiptoes, pushes the money towards the cashier  She looks at him, then at Laura as she counts the money.

Whatever face Laura has on, it makes the cashier stash the money in the register all the faster. Mokuba grins when he gets to carry the bag. Swings it back and forth all the way back.

Laura glances back at the movement with something like curiosity but says very little. 

( She always says little, but he likes her. She listens. Almost as good as Nissama does.) 

Seto’s been kept  from properly interrogating the staff on his brother’s whereabouts by the fact that he’s been told he now owns two percent of Kaiba Corp. 

It’s his birthday present and of course it comes with a catch.

He’s been told he has to return it tenfold and he knows he’s going to do it because he has to. He has to. 

But it’s such a big number.

Everything feels big in this house although he hardly admits it. The room is bigger than his old one, the threats are bigger, scarier, more grandiose, more dangerous. The stakes are higher.

It’s what he signed up for, he knows. It’s what he has to do, he knows. But in this room, by himself he lets himself admit that it all feels so big. And he feels so..not big. 

He allows himself five second-a minute, to acknowledge it. To name it. To let it wash over him. Small. That’s the word. Everything’s so big and he feels so small and he can’t do this he can’t. He’s going to fail. He can’t he can’t he can’t  he’s just a freakin ki-.

He stops it at that. He can’t do that. Can’t call himself a child when so much depends on him. On how he acts now, on what he does.

He picks up the phone. 

By the time Seto Kaiba’s done with arrangements that will guarantee he can return Gozaburo’s money in a day, Mokuba Kaiba’s peeking into his brother’s room bag held behind his back.

Seto spots his brother and smiles dotingly, the tiredness, the earlier panic it all goes away.

“Hi Mokie” he says, laughing when the little boy tackles him a hug “where have you been?”

Mokuba’s not one for preambles.

“Is your birthday Nissama” he says and all but tosses the bag on Seto’s lap.

He’s looking at Seto expectantly and isn’t disappointed when his brother smiles.

Seto for his part feels something warm in his chest when he pulls out the cards and a piece of paper folded in half that he knows from the crude decorations of dragons presents and balloons is supposed to be a birthday card.

Seto drops a kiss on his brother’s head, pulls him close, feels like he can breathe for the first time since breakfast.

“Thank you Mokie”

He thinks he catches a shadow at the door. Long black hair and leather boots. It’s gone the next moment.

Walking away from the scene, knowing it’s not for her Laura thinks maybe this assignment isn’t as bad, that maybe birthdays can be peaceful. 

In the room with his brother, Seto thinks that he can do this, the plan to return ten times the money in a day is already in motion and he feels his determination grow back the more he remembers the reason behind it. 

Next to his brother, Mokuba smiles fit to split. The bigger plans going on around him are lost of him, but it’s the first present he’s bought Seto and it made him smile and Laura helped and he knows next year they’ll have a proper birthday for Seto. 

He’ll get Laura to help again and they’ll have cake and everything. 

[imaginesmai]

Tattoo!Hvitserk-Angst Alphabet (1/2)

BEFORE READING

I’ve decided to divide this alphabet in two parts, as it’s too long. There will be letters with just a little explanation of the situation. However, I’ve turned others into little imagines. I’ve chosen them randomly, but I can make a little imagine of other letter if you let me know.

Also, as you all wanted to see more about tattoo artist Hvitserk, I’ve made this post about him. You don’t have to read my work Crush and Crush 2 (that I’m going to leave here, in case you want to). There are little details that you might not understand; but in general, I will leave here the things you need to know:

You’re Hvitserk’s girlfriend and Ubbe’s roommate, who is dating Torvi. Also, you work at a bar called Loonies’ and Halfdan is your boss, while Hvitserk is a tattoo artist and works with Magnus.

I think that’s all! I hope you like this new idea of an alphabet, it’s mostly mine! Don’t hesitate to ask about your favourite character! 

More parts: N for nothing, O for offended and P for pressure

WARNINGS

There are a lot of them, because it’s an angst alphabet, so everything is sad. Please, read carefully the tittle of each letter and avoid things that may be triggering for you. 

Alcohol (do they drink too much?)

He knows what he’s doing. Most of the nights in his past, after Margarethe, he would drink his own weight in alcohol, and then pass out. For that, he has a high tolerance to alcohol.

If he gets drunk, which doesn’t happen often, he’s not aggressive. Neither flirty. Hvitserk is the kind of drunk who thinks that everything is funny. You try to stay mad at him, but when he starts laughing about how the TV is moving, you giggle and end up laughing with him in the floor.

The only problem that he has, is weed. Magnus showed him a few years before meeting you, and since then he loves the feeling of being able not to feel anything. He doesn’t have a big addition, but you’ve found a little drawer in the tattoo studio with some weed. And you weren’t happy about it. After talking about it with him, you understood that it was his way of coping with things; and that he couldn’t let it go that easily. With time and love, however, he’s clean when you make four years of relationship.

Baby (you’re pregnant and there is a problem)

If you thought Hvitserk was energetic, you were wrong. There was another person who was more energetic, and that was his son. You were seven months pregnant, and you had to quit your job in order to stay safe.

After finishing university, you moved with Hvitserk to a little apartment outside the city, and you got your dreams job as a teacher. He bought a bigger studio, and, in that moment, he was the most famous tattoo artist in the city. The same day Hvitserk turned 28, you put a little note in the oven, and he cried at your unplanned pregnancy. But not everything was happiness and joy. The second month of your pregnancy, the doctor told you that the baby was misplaced, and that they couldn’t do anything about it until the birth. For you, it didn’t seem like a big problem; now, seven months along with constant pain, it was.

-          Hvitty? -you called him and heard him get up from the couch and go to your room.

-          Yes, beautiful? -Hvitserk’s head appeared at the door, wearing a big smile.

-          Can you get me one more pillow? I can’t seem to find the position. -you sighed.

-          Sure, do you want me to heat the pad instead? -he bent down next to you and you couldn’t help the hand that smacked his ass. -Wow! What was that?

-          Come on, you were asking for it! -you laughed.

-          I guess no one can resist to this ass. -he shoved it in your face, and you laughed again before moaning in pain. -What? What’s wrong?

-          He’s moving again. -you smiled. -He hears his father and can’t stay put.

-          I can’t wait to meet you, buddy. -he put his hand on your stomach. -But you’ve to wait a little longer, hm? If my mommy was Y/N, I would too want to see her beautiful face now.

-          That’s so cute, now you’re romantic? -you smirked. -What have you done?

-          Wh-Nothing! -after a minute of stare competition, he admitted. -I don’t know how to cook meal.

You laughed at his blushing face, knowing that you getting up was his intention from the beginning. Slowly and with his help, you sat on the bed and breathed deeply. The baby was closer to your cervix than what he was supposed to be, and everytime you moved you felt him shift. The doctor said that the last months there was the risk of your cervix giving away to the weight of the baby, but you weren’t afraid. That changed, however, when after finishing your peas with ham, you felt a little tug down there.

At first, you thought nothing of it; a few times already you had peed without meaning to. Then, you looked down and saw Hvitserk’s grey sweatpants, that he so kindly had lend to you, growing red. You kept looking at it while your boyfriend talked about the game that was playing in the TV. Hvitserk noticed that you were quiet and followed your eyes toward where they were looking; his face went pale and the blood stain kept getting bigger. He could only unlock the phone before you gasped and started crying.

-          Hey, Y/N, hey, you’re not breath- Hello? -he talked to the phone. -Ubbe, I need you to bring your car. It’s Y/N. Just come here, we need to go to the hospital. Yes. Hurry, please.

-          Hvitserk, it’s getting bigger. -you tried to stand up, but you didn’t have strength.

-          Please, breath for me. -he kneeled in front of you, with tears in his eyes. -Does it hurt?

-          From the inside. -you cried again. -What if-

-          Let’s not think about it, okay beautiful? -he tried to smile.

In a few minutes, Ubbe’s car was parked outside and both brothers were helping you inside it. By then, Hvitserk’s grey sweatpants were dark red; and when you arrived at the hospital, you were seeing black dots in Hvitserk’s shaking arms.

Catcall (you’re catcalled and he’s with you)

Groceries were always boring, but never with Hvitserk. You had this little game where you divided your list in two; the first one to find all their items would get to pick an extra one. If Hvitserk won, he would choose that little chocolate bars with caramel in between. And if you won, you would choose the cereals with the cool price inside. Most of the time you received weird stares from everyone; it was not a fair game, and sometimes you made him trip and he took something from your cart. But it was funny, and you loved every second of it; as much as you loved your boyfriend.

That day Hvitserk won, and you waited for him outside while he bought his chocolate and candy bars. You had already loaded your car, since Hvitserk didn’t have one yet; he said that his motorbike was more than enough. Lazily tracing the tattoo he made in your arm, you saw a group of guys coming closer to the supermarket. You didn’t mind them until one of them called you.

-          Hey girl! -you looked over the parking and saw that you were the only one there.

-          We’re talking to you. -said another one with a cap.

-          What you doing alone? -the first one asked. -Do you want company, beautiful?

-          I’m waiting for my boyfriend. -you said, looking at the ground.

-          I don’t see him here! -he laughed, coming closer. -Come with us, we can have a lot of fun with a hot piece of ass like you!

-          Dude, I’m telling you, I’m waiting for my boyfriend. -you scoffed. -And besides, that’s gross and uncalled.

-          But he’s not here! Don’t be a bi-

-          I’m here. -Hvitserk voice said from behind them, and they found a man two heads taller than them, full of tattoos, and with a murderous eyes. -Something you want to say to my face, kid?

Before he could talk again, they left walking very, very fast; and Hvitserk smiled and came to your side. He kissed the top of your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheek, and finally your lips. With ease, he lifted you up against the hood of the car and made out with you for a few seconds. Just when he heard an old woman complaining, he let you go and got in the car. You didn’t make it far, however; after you had left the parking lot, his hand found your tight and you had to stop in an empty building before you crashed.

Die (their reaction when you die/your reation when they die)

Hvitserk wouldn’t be the same after you. It didn’t matter the reason behind your death, he would be broken. Even if he still has the tattoo studio and his brother, he feels that he has lost his whole life. Maybe he hasn’t tell you about them; but when it comes to you, he has a whole life-plan. Getting married, having kids, buying a bigger house, traveling a lot… If he thought that Margarethe was the worst thing that had happened to him, he was wrong. Your death has crashed him. Hvitserk tries to recover from it, and Ubbe, even Sigurd and Ivar, help him as much as they can. They let him stay at their houses, get him out of his house, make sure he has enough food and water…and take care of his little son because he can’t bear to look at him in the eye. But it isn’t enough and, after a year without you, Torvi gets a call to the hospital from a strange noise in his apartment. When Ubbe gets there, its too late; they only thing he can do it’s to take the gun away from his brother’s hand.

His death is…devastating. The thing that you miss the most about his is his laugh, his smile, his happiness. Saying that you loose weigh it’s an understatement; you have to be hospitalized, because when Torvi visited you after two weeks of not talking to anyone, you couldn’t even stand up. Your best support is Ubbe, who is suffering as much as you. When you come back from the clinic, you find out that Torvi and him are taking care of your little boy. Ubbe talks to you and decides to stay with you for a week in his brother’s apartment. You both cry, hug each other and remember good times together. It takes a lot of years for you to fully recover, but finally, you end up as a happy single mom with a dead husband to remember every day.

Emotion (what do they keep to themselves)

Need. For Hvitserk, its hard to express his needs with words. If he wants to lay with you in the couch after a bad day, he won’t say it; he’ll just look at you with puppy eyes or drag you to his body. With the years, you learn how to read him. He’s kind of a touch-starved guy, as his mother and father didn’t really pay attention to him. He loves and needs any type of contact; hugs, kisses or cuddles. You’re the first person who can fulfilled his needs so good, and he doesn’t intend to let you go.

Frustrated (how do they act in a fight?)

Hvitserk is quite impulsive and sarcastic. When he’s hurt, he has two reactions; if he’s really hurt, he shuts down. If it’s just a disagreement or an argument, he talks loud and often is sarcastic towards you. Doesn’t think twice about brining up old facts to prove his point, even if sometimes he regrets it. He doesn’t like to fight, no one does; but if you do, he wants to end it as soon as possible. Most of the times he’s the first one to apologize, not because he doesn’t have pride; because he values you more than a stupid fight

Grounded (your daughter/son tells him that they hate him after a fight)

-          I wish I had a different dad! -your son said as he ran up the stairs. -I hate you!

It had started as a silly proposal. Your son, who was 14, wanted to go to a party on wednesday’s night, and he had an exam on thursday. While you were having dinner on Monday, he asked you about it, and you said no. He didn’t say anything else and helped Hvitserk with the dishes while you took a shower. Tuesday came by and he asked again. Hvitserk was the one telling him no, but your son got angry and started screaming. You tried to talk, but your husband just got angry at his screams and shouted too. Your son got so angry that throwed a plate to ground, hitting your foot. He stayed quiet while Hvitserk helped you up and took you to the bathroom, taking the little glasses out of your foot.

When it was over, your son came to apologize; but Hvitserk was still angry and grounded him for a week. Your son looked at him for a few seconds before turning around and saying those words, closing his door with a loud bang. Hvitserk looked at you with sad and hurt eyes, and your heart broke at his pain. Before you could put his body between your arms, the first sob broke free. And by the time you arrived to the couch, he was crying deeply. You ended up laying in the couch, with his body above you. He was careful not to crash you with his heavy body, and you could feel your old t-shirt drenched in tears.

-          H-he hat-tes me. -he let out a particular heart-breaking sob, and you could feel your own tears spilling. -Wh-hy, Y/N?

-          He’s a teenager, Hvitty. He doesn’t mean it…Just doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions. -you waited for him to breath again. -He loves you, Hvitty.

-          Doesn’t seem like it. -he said with a rough voice after a while. -I just… I want to be the best dad, Y/N.

-          You are. -your turned in the sofa so that he was laying on his side and so were you, facing each other. -You’re the best dad, the best husband and the best person in the world. You finish his projects when he forgets about them, even if it’s four a.m. and you haven’t finished them yet. You take him everywhere he wants, it doesn’t matter if it’s your free day. And you love him, Hvitty. That’s enough.

After a while, you got up from the sofa and he helped you to bandage your foot again; then, you went to bed. It was midnight when you heard something in the corridor, and your mother instinct knew it was your son. Shortly, his blonde head peaked through the door, and you frowned when you saw his teary and puffy eyes.

-          Dad? -he asked in a broken voice and Hvitserk, who had been hugging you, rose surprised.

-          I’m here. -he got up. -God, I didn’t realise it was morning already. I’ll take you to school, let me-

-          Darling, it’s midnight. -you laughed, stopping Hvitserk from puttin on his shoe; your son smiled before the tears filled his eyes again.

-          What? Why are you crying? -Hvitserk worried voice made you smile; you already knew why your son was there. -Does something hurt? A night-

-          I’m sorry, dad. -he walked in the room and threw himself over Hvitserk, and he gripped him tightly. -I don’t hate you, and you’re the best dad ever. I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! I couldn’t sleep thinking that you went to bed hating me, I love you dad. I’m sorry.

-          Hey, buddy, I don’t hate you. -he smiled softly, kissing your son’s head. -I love you too. And don’t worry, I forgive you.

That night, you three slept together in your little bed, and Hvitserk found himself thinking that he was not such a bad dad.

Humiliation (someone says something humiliating about you in front of them)

Your boyfriend was trying to buy you a little gift for your birthday when he heard it for the first time. Ubbe, who was with him, froze for a while, and it wasn’t until the second time he heard that voice that he recognized it. Hvitserk turned his head towards her slowly, and found Margarethe looking at him from across the shop. He tried to take his brother’s arm and run away, but she was faster and soon she was by his side.

-          Hvitty! -he cringed at the nickname. -How nice for us to meet here! It’s been ages!

-          Hey Margarethe. -Ubbe answered, sensing his brother’s discomfort. -We’re busy so-

-          How have you been? -she tried to touch his arm, but Hvitserk was quick and stepped back. -Have you been going to the gym maybe? You’re thicker! And more handsome-

-          Margarethe. -Ubbe talked again, interrupting her. -We’re in a hurry.

-          What hurry? Don’t you have time to catch up with an old friend?

For a few minutes, she kept trying to talk to Hvitserk, showing her chest to him and biting her red lip. Hvitserk was quiet while his brother tried to get her to shut up and leave without being too rude. Suddenly, Hvitserk felt angry. Not because what she had done, but because she was taking his time where he should be buying you a present.

-          Ubbe, we’re leaving. -his voice was rough and even his brother was surprised.

-          Let’s take a-

-          No, Margarethe. I need to buy a gift for my girlfriend. -he smiled a little, thinking about you; however, her smile disappeared.

-          That Y/N girl? -the brothers were surprised she knew your name.

-          How do you know her? -Hvitserk asked.

-          She works at the Loonies’. -she smiled again. -It’s the worst bar in town. Only whores and junkies go there. So, she must be one of them.

-          What? -Hvitserk asked after a second, feeling rage filling his body.

-          I’m just warning you darling! -she faked pity. -It would be a shame if the hurt you.

-          Y/N’s not like you. -he said, getting closer to her and making Margarethe take a few steps back. -She’s kind, beautiful, generous and loyal. Something you know nothing about.

-          It was- -she couldn’t end because Hvitserk hand gripped his arm strong enough to leave a bruise.

-          And if I ever hear you talking shit about her, I’m going to kick your ass so hard you’re going to forget her name. I don’t care if you’re a woman. For me, you’re a disgrace.

Hvitserk turned around and took Ubbe by his arm, who was looking at him with his mouth wide and prideful eyes.

Injury (how do they react when you’re hurt?)

Hvitserk freaks out. It doesn’t matter if it’s a little cut or a sprained ankle. For him, all injuries are important enough to go the hospital. For a guy who is a tattoo artist, it’s kind of surprising when he uses a bandage to cover a paper cut.

If it’s something mildly serious, like a flu or a stomach bug, he’ll cuddle with you until you get better. You’ve tried to make him realise that it can be bad for him; he doesn’t care, and most of the times, he gets sick right after you. Hvitserk isn’t a delicate person. If you’re having problems with your period and you stain the sheets, he will change them. If you must throw up in the floor because you can’t make it to the toilet, he doesn’t mind cleaning it if you stay in bed. There was this time when you broke your leg when you were ice-skating; he felt so bad for it, because it was his idea, that he didn’t let you do anything for a month. Overprotective much, you see.

Joyless (something that makes them sad)

Your pain. Hvitserk is a very emphatic person, and he always tries to keep you as happy as possible. However, it doesn’t always depend of him, and sometimes you come home with sad eyes and slumped shoulders. A shot of pain hit his chest when he sees you like that, and he tries extra-hard to make you happy.

Kidnapped (you’re kidnapped)

It’s not really kidnapped, just a hostage situation, I’m sorry!

You saw Hvitserk outside the Loonies, waiting for you siting in his motorbike. His helmet was hanging from the handle, and he had a cherry lollipop hanging from his lips. There was a group of girls who were ogling him from afar, and you laughed when you saw that Hvitserk was paying more attention to the game on his phone than to them. Slowly, you approached him and, before he could see you, you put one of your hands on the phone, the other one around his neck and you captured his lips in a kiss. A little yelp of surprise left his mouth, but then he just laughed and kissed you back, gripping your hips tightly.

-          I can’t even be mad at you for making me lose. -he smiled. -If you kiss me like this everytime, I don’t care throwing my phone to a pit.

-          What were you playing to? ��� you asked, taking his phone in your hand.

-          Hey, that’s mine! -he tried to take it away from you. -Come on, beautiful, give it back.

-          Got something to hide, Hvitty? -you smirked. -Or are you just scared that I’m going to beat you at the game?

-          You’re an idiot. -he put the phone in jacket’s pocket. -Can we go now?

-          Please. -you watched as he got into the bike. -Wait! Oh, God, I think I forgot my charger inside.

-          You bring your charger to work? -Hvitserk laughed while you looked through your bag.

-          I’ve a shitty phone, Hvitty. -you smiled. -I’m going back, give me a second.

With one last kiss, you left him your bad and took your keys out one more time. It was midday, but Halfdan wasn’t in town and he decided to give everyone the afternoon free. You’re the one in charge of closing up, as always. When you entered the Loonies’, you didn’t turn on the lights, but you wish you did. While you were looking under the counter, you heard a little tap on it; and when you raised, you were met with a masked guy with a gun in his hand. Both of you kept looking at each other for a while, until he pointed to the cash register and clicked the gun.

Hvitserk had already finished the game on his phone and was getting really uncomfortable because of the glances of those girls. He kept looking every once in while to the bar, waiting for you to come out so he could change into his old sweatpants at his house. After putting the second lollipop in his mouth, he saw a little movement inside; he thought it was you looking for your charger, but there were two people and one of them was armed. The lollipop fell to floor and crashed loudly; the girls looked at him weirdly while he watched as the other person guided you inside your boss office. He took the phone out and called the police; the girls, hearing the conversation, came closer, and soon a little bunch of people were trying to see what was happening. When he was thinking about going inside himself, the police turned around the corner, their blue and red light filling the Loonies’. More people gathered around the place, and Hvitserk had to turn away in order to breath. However, he didn’t go far; he kept an eye in the front window, where he could see the guy getting nervous.

After exactly two hours of the police not doing anything at all, everyone heard a car from the back of the bar and a black one ran towards the street. Hvitserk’s chest was tight with worry; were you in that car? Were you even alive? Without caring about the police shouting for him, he ran into the Loonies and found you sitting in a stool, with your head between your hands. You jumped at the sound of the door being opened so roughly but were only met with the worried eyes of your boyfriend.

-          Y/N. -he said quietly.

-          He’s gone. -you said as he came closer, while the police searched the place. -Just wanted the money in the cashier, but it wasn’t enough.

-          Are you hurt? -Hvitserk lifted your head so he could see a little bruise near your eye. He brushed his fingers over it softly. -Anywhere else?

-          No. -you sighed and hugged him.

Hvitserk’s smell was some type of deodorant and body lotion, and it remembered you of a pack of sweets. It wasn’t too sweet, it was that kind of smell you could spend days and days inhaling, your worst drug. He was wearing a purple t-shirt, and in that moment, you found it the softer thing in the word. You pulled him between your legs and you buried your head deep into his comfortable chest. His hands found your hair and started massaging it. A policewoman came to you and started asking questions about the guy; you couldn’t find the strength in you to answer, so Hvitserk told her kindly to back off. And he did the same to everyone who got close to you. When you raised your head, he smiled softly and kissed you.

-          Do you want to go home? -he whispered in your lips.

-          Can I stay with you?

-          You don’t have to ask anymore, beautiful. -he chuckled.

Loss (their greatest lost)

His self-confidence. Before Margarethe, he was a cocky guy, who never slept twice with the same girl. Don’t get him wrong, the girls knew what they were getting themselves into. He broke a few hearts, but he never cheated neither lied to anyone. When he was partying, he was the most popular kid; everyone wanted to talk to him and he threw the best parties.

With the years, Hvitserk has recovered a little self-confidence. But it will never be the same, and he knows it. When someone hurts you so much, you get marked for life.

Mistakes (make up after a fight)

As I said before, Hvitserk is the one to apologise most of the times. When you fight, you usually lock up in your room and he stays in the couch, both of you thinking about what had happened. Sometimes, you met in the middle of the corridor when you’re going to see the other one; other times, he meets you in the bed.

Those times, he waits by the door and watches you laying in bed. With your back turned, he can’t see your face; but he knows you well enough to know when you’re pissed or when you’re sad. If you’re pissed, he sits down in the bed and starts talking about how sorry he is, how much of an idiot and how you’re too good for him. Usually, he ends up crying because he feels that he’s not enough for you, and you turn around and hug the life out of him. That night, you sleep in the couch, watching a silly movie and eating junk food.

If you’re sad, he doesn’t say anything. Hvitserk lays in bed with you and hugs you from behind. Tucking his head on your neck, he talks about all the good things about you, and his kisses lower until they find your stomach. Soon, your sadness is gone and so are your clothes.

[prettyboylovemail]

[Kazuaki x Hana] My Life Before You

When I told him about the baby, Kazuaki said he had something important to tell me.... I wonder what it is...

((the follow up fic to my last few posts! I hope you like it! <3))

!!WARNING! CONTAINS HEAVY SPOILERS FOR HATOFUL BOYFRIEND AND HB: HOLIDAY STAR!!

Hana glanced up at the clock. It was 6pm. Kazuaki was bound to be home any minute. It was still the start of spring, so the weather was chilly around this time, and she hoped he wouldn’t doze off on his way home and catch a cold. Hana looked down at the meal she’d prepared for them and smiled to herself. She wasn’t the best cook, but she had worked hard to surprise him on this special day. When she heard footsteps outside and the clinking of the door handle opening from the other side, she sat up straight and took a deep breath. Everything had to be perfect.

Kazuaki came through the door of their small home with slumped shoulders and a heavy sigh, but the corners of his lips turned up as he caught sight of his girlfriend waiting to welcome him home with a bright grin. She stood, rushed into his arms with a peppy skip in her step, and hugged him closely. “Welcome home, darling~!” she chimed as he tossed his bag aside and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in the soft fabric of the shawl draped over his shoulders.

    He hummed quietly as he held her. “It’s not every day that you make a full meal for dinner. What’s the occasion?” he asked, smiling fondly as their grip on each other loosened and she stepped back to face him.

She beamed and held a finger up to her lips. “That’s a secret,” she giggled. Curiosity must’ve showed clearly on his face, as she added, “At least until after dinner~”

They sat at the table, exchanging idle conversation as they ate. She asked about his day and he told her about the usual rowdiness of his students in class. She giggled quietly, remembering the time she’d spent with her classmates in his homeroom and math classes back when they first met. That was a little over five years ago now and still, it felt like just yesterday. And looking at them now, happily in love and living together, she felt so much happiness. They’d both matured so much since then.

As they finished their dinner, Kazuaki glanced over at his girlfriend expectingly. “So? What is this big secret that you felt the need to celebrate with a home-cooked meal?”

Hana took a deep inhale and placed her fork down on the table beside her plate. “Well…” she hesitated, not meeting his eyes as she laced her fingers together. Her heart began to thump in her chest and her cheeks heated up. She was happy, but still, anxiety had wriggled its way into her brain. She let out the long breath and smiled. “I know we’ve briefly talked about the future and all… Getting married… and such…” she trailed off. Why was it so hard for her to just say it?

Kazuaki paused, “What about it?”

Hana took another deep breath and braced herself, “Well, I think it’s time we started talking more about starting a family together, Kazuaki.” She kept her head down, but her eyes moved up to meet his. “We’re having a baby.”

Silence.

Dreadful silence.

Kazuaki didn’t react. He didn’t say anything at all. His expression remained frozen in the curious blank stare that he’d had a second ago.

“We-- You’re…” he started slowly, taking his time to process what she’d said. “You’re pregnant?” She nodded happily, but her excitement faded when he didn’t smile like she’d hoped. He actually looked… scared.

She placed a hand over his. “Are...Aren’t you happy?”

Kazuaki vigorously shook his head and locked eyes with her, squeezing her hand, “I--I am! I’m happy! I just…” he looked down. “I just don’t know if… I’d be a good father.”

“Of course you will be!” Hana protested, “You’re great with children, Kazuaki! You’re the most patient man I know and you’re amazingly smart and kind too!” she squeezed his hand back. “It’s okay to be scared, but I have faith in us.”

He smiled gently at her, but turned away. “No, there’s… there’s still things you don’t know about me, Hana. I’m worried that…” he hesitated, moving his hand away, “that you won’t want me to be the one to raise our child with you.”

Hana paused, clearly perplexed. “What... do you mean?”

Kazuaki sighed and stood, motioning for her to follow. “We need to talk.”

Hana followed Kazuaki to their room and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. She could see the worry clear on his face, so she softly patted his shoulder, running her hand over his back and at the base of his neck. She stayed silent, waiting for him to explain.

He began quietly, his voice just above a whisper. “There’s a lot of things that I should’ve told you a long time ago. But I’ve been a coward. I was afraid that you’d leave me on the spot if you knew everything about me… about my past.” He paused. “About the things I’ve done and have regretted every day of my life since.”

Kazuaki sighs and brings one of his hands to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes, but allowing them to fall back down again immediately as they were. “I think the first and most important thing you need to know is that… Kazuaki Nanaki… isn’t my real name.” Hana, clearly taken aback, says nothing. Instead, she waits for further explanation before reacting to anything. “I was born Hitori Uzune.”

He told her how he’d grown up in the Heartful House orphanage and about the family he had there; he was like an older brother to all of the younger children. He told her about the incident that had the establishment shut down. The building had been invaded by a group of political extremists and the children inside all held hostage and gunned down one by one while he was out at work one day. He returned home that day to the decimated orphanage and was horrified that he hadn’t made it back in time to save any of them. Thankfully, one of the orphans had survived, a frail and sickly boy named Nageki.

“Nageki was the only family I had left. But he was getting sicker by the day and I just couldn’t continue taking care of him anymore,” Kazuaki’s voice began to crack, tears welling up in his eyes. “So I had him enrolled at St. Pigeonation’s, where Doctor Iwamine had been working, although under a different name at the time. We were promised that he’d get the extensive medical treatment he needed if he stayed there, and he’d be able to attend school in the process.”

He continued to tell her how he’d worried about Nageki the whole time he was gone, as his letters back were becoming increasingly more depressed. He finally decided that something wasn’t right and that he needed to go to the school to make sure Nageki was okay. What he’d found was just the opposite. As he entered the building where Nageki was supposed to be receiving medical treatment for his illness, he instead found crowds of panicked doctors and black smoke rolling from inside the operation room. He ran inside to see Nageki locked up inside, surrounded by raging flames that only grew bigger by the second. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Hana continued her silent attempts at comforting him as she listened to his story. She felt her heart breaking with every detail. She couldn’t imagine the sadness he must be feeling.

“I wasn’t there to save him again,” he cried. “I was never there for him. He died because I didn’t get there in time.”

“I don’t think he ever blamed you,” Hana spoke softly. “It’s not fair for you to blame yourself either.”

Kazuaki wiped the tears from his eyes. “That’s… not all. This next part might be the hardest part to tell you. I’ve never told anybody.”

Hana moved his face to look her in the eyes and she squeezed his hands. “There’s nothing that you could ever tell me that would stop me from loving you, Kazuaki. You won’t scare me away no matter what. I’m here for you, through everything.”

He took a long pause and gathered his bearings, sorting through his brain to find the words. After a couple moments, he spoke. “Kazuaki… is the name of someone I’d met shortly after the death of my little brother. He was my friend.

“He was the complete opposite of me. He was fragile, shy, and a crybaby. He stayed inside his apartment all day and night playing video games. I’d seen him around in the prep school I was teaching at, but we hadn’t really talked much until I found him out on the street one day and offered that he come to my classes. He sort of latched onto me from then on, consistently coming over to my apartment and following me around at the school like a little lost puppy.” He chuckled a little. “But after a while, I got used to having him around and it felt nice to have someone depend on me again.”

Kazuaki’s smile was short-lived, however, as he continued his story. “But… I couldn't get past the guilt that had been building inside me for so long. I thought about Nageki every day and the darkness of my own dread had gotten so out of control that I couldn’t think rationally anymore. I craved revenge on the doctor who’d forced Nageki into killing himself. And so…” he fell silent for a few seconds. “And so I killed Kazuaki and used his identity to infiltrate the school,” he finally said with his eyes locked shut, not wanting to see the horrified expression Hana had to be making right now.

But she wasn't. Her face was just as neutral as it had been for the rest of the story. She took a breath and looked up at the ceiling, still holding his hand in hers. He was trembling. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, both taking in the information they’d been presented with this evening.

“Is that everything?”

Kazuaki looked up with dull eyes. She would surely reject him after learning he had killed and impersonated a man for this many years. “Yeah. That’s everything. So now you see why I can’t be a good father. Both you and the baby deserve so much bet--”

“That’s not true,” she cut him off sharply. “Kazuaki, none of that changes anything. It’s true that what you did was wrong. It was horrible. But that’s in the past now. And you’ve clearly learned from those mistakes. While I don’t think this information should be broadcast to the world, it doesnt change the feelings I have for you. I want to have this baby and raise a family with you.”

He stared back at her in disbelief. She… still wanted him? She still loved him? After hearing all of that? His heart clenched inside his chest and tears began to spill over again as he grabbed her and hugged her tight, his face buried in her hair. She gently placed her arms around him.

“I love you so much, Hana,” he whispered next to her ear, his voice muffled.

“I love you too, Hitori.”