#and then walked outside to find one of my tires completely flat

[fiddlepickdouglas]

DISSOCIATING

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire 5

Summary: You find yourself waking up in his cabin, and honestly it’s peaceful, until a gut wrenching feeling starts making its way into your stomach that something is wrong.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Forced touch, oblivious reader, language, secluded cabin. Logan is an official warning as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000 @cellyx33

Word Count: 3582 (All other chapters here) Chapter 6

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire...

You wake up. Not where you’d fallen asleep mind you. But in a completely different bed, in a completely different room. To be fair though, you don’t remember falling asleep in a bed in the first place.

You hear the sound of plates and other dishes clinking from outside of the room, and you uncover your face from the blanket you’ve been tucked in, which was covering up to your nose. As soon as you breathe in the air, the scent of pine wood, cigar, and cologne immediately fills your nostrils. That’s when you remember where you were. You agreed to let Logan take you to his cabin in the middle of the woods. The drive was lengthy though. You had been awake for at least two hours in the truck before you had finally fallen asleep. You don’t remember getting up and walking to bed though. Or changing out of your day clothes. But you were sure you were just tired, considering the long ride.

Moving to lie on your back, you stare up at the ceiling. Bannisters of hard wood cross over the vaulted ceiling, you follow them with your eyes to the left until you’re staring at a window that was framed in more hardwood, the curtains closed, preventing you from looking outside.

After a few more moments, and the occasional sound of of movement close to the room, you finally decide to sit up, stretching your arms above your head, as you’re sat up you see a door, it was cracked open with the light on, you could tell it was a small bathroom, then you toss some blankets off of your body before beginning to step out of the bed. The bed was high up. If you were standing next to it, the top of the mattress would be about even with your hips. You step down with one foot first, the tips of your toes touching the ground before you slide off until both feet are flat on the hardwood floor. A bedside lamp is on, making it easy to see as it emits a soft yellow light.

You walk up to a tall mirror that seemed to be part of a cabinet, it was locked and closed. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was a dishevelled mess and your eyes were almost half closed, trying desperately to make you fall back asleep, and a red line streaks the side of your right cheek, you were probably lying on some fabric for too long. Your eyes trail down to your clothes, you were wearing a grey, white, and black flannel. It was thick, and you knew it wasn’t yours. One, because you didn’t own any flannels. And two, because, well, you just knew it wasn’t yours. It was also way too big on you. You assume it’s Logan’s. It goes about halfway down your thighs, and the first top two buttons were undone, showing your black lace bra. You lift the shirt slightly, showing your matching panties. Looking around the room for a moment, none of your clothes are in sight. So you decide you should probably go and talk to Logan now.

You open the door, the hinges surprise you when they don’t creak, you naturally assume the cabin was hold since it was Logan’s. He probably just takes good care of it. You tell yourself as you close the door silently behind you. Opposite of the bedroom door was another wooden door painted a dark brown with a brushed golden doorknob. It was open just a little, and you could see a bathroom. Turning your head to the right, was a few feet left of a hallway before there was a double door leading outside and a small area filled in by another larger cabinet that almost reached the ceiling. You could see through the little windows that there were jackets hung up in it. You assumed the door would lead to the backyard, but you still couldn’t see outside. The small window in the door was foggy, and it had a floral design to hide the inside from the outside, and the outside from the inside. Then you turn your head to the left, a hallway about as long or longer than the one on the right, but it led to two different open rooms, and it was aligned with the front door, its window also was covered. You take a few steps forward, until you’re at the end of the hall. You look to your right, a three seater brown cotton couch was facing a fireplace with a large TV mounted over it, and a recliner that matched the couch was angled just slightly as it sat near the couch in order to also face the TV. In between the couch and TV was a large oval rug, red and white, but it looked soft with a wooden coffee table sitting above it, last there was a window, on the right of the front door. You take a few steps forward, and on your left is Logan. His back turned towards you as he does whatever he’s doing at the counter. It was a nice kitchen. The cupboards were all wooded, and the counter was marble. In the centre was an island, two stools standing on the outside, and the wall opposite the island was another large window, on the left of the front door of course, with another door leading into a smaller room that you couldn’t see inside of from your angle.

“Look who’s awake.” You draw your attention away from your thoughts and look back over to Logan. “How long you been up?” He turns back around to look back at whatever he was doing.

“No long… What time is it?” You ask him, making your way to one of the windows and pushing the curtain aside.

“It’s like ten at night.” He tells you as you continue to stare out the window. Snow fell to the ground outside and you stare at it as it piles at least four inches above the dirt. Why is it snowing? You ask yourself, looking up at the sky to see a full moon with dancing little stars surrounding it.

“Here.” He brings you out of your thoughts again and you turn your head to see him holding out a sandwich on a plate. Only then do you realise you’re famished.

“Thank you, Logan.” You take the plate, picking up one of the triangle shaped slices of bread before biting the corner and backing away from the window finally.

“We’re out in the mountains. We just barely avoided the heavier snow.” He explains, knowing you were confused about the snow.

“It’s really quiet out here.” You mumble. And he doesn’t say anything for a moment. Not a single sound occurs in the house as neither of you speak.

“Just how I like it.” You take another small bite of your sandwich, covering your mouth before speaking.

“Where are the clothes I was wearing earlier?”

“You fell asleep in the truck so I carried you inside. It was snowing though, kind of heavy and it stuck to your clothes, got them wet.” He tells you, then nods towards the last closed door. “They’re drying in there.”

“How long have I been asleep for?”

“Like an hour before we got her, then we’ve been here for about five hours so… you’ve been out for six hours. Figured you wake up soon so…” He looks towards your sandwich, implying he made it knowing you’d wake up soon. “Do you need anything else?”

“Do you have anything to drink?” You cover your mouth as you speak again with food in your mouth.

“Yea…” He walks towards the fridge and opens it, you follow behind him and look in the fridge with him. “Apple juice, milk, lemonade, then of course water.” He looks at you, his eyes soft as he tilts his head down to look into your eyes. “I also have chocolate syrup if you’d like chocolate milk.” He adds on.

“Mhm…” You hum and nod your head. Then look around a little. “Where are the cups though?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He tells you, taking out the milk and placing it on the counter before going back and grabbing chocolate syrup too. “How chocolatey do you want it?” He asks, reaching over you and squishing you into the counter slightly as he pulls out a glass.

“Like uh… half?” He nods, then mixes some of the syrup into the glass after pouring in the milk.

“There you go, pup.” He slides the glass carefully closer to you and puts the milk and syrup back into the fridge. You whisper a silent thank you before taking the glass and sipping from it. Why does he seem so… off?

“How are you? Did you get any sleep?” You ask him.

“No, I was waiting for you to wake up.” He tells you, and you know he stayed up late just to feed you. How sweet.

“Aren’t you tired?” He just nods. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright darlin’ really,” he moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around the back of your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. “Just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up hungry.” He squeezes you slightly in the side hug before rubbing his hand up and down your arm as you take another bite of your food.

“I appreciate it… Thank you, Logan.” You look up at him, fuck he’s close, and he smiles down at you.

“Of course.” He tells you, then as you turn your head, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So uh… is there a separate room?” You ask him after his arm lets go of you so he could walk to the other side of the island.

“No. Just one room, then the living room. Why?”

“Well I was wondering who was sleeping where but-“

“Figured it would be alright if we both sleep in the bed.” He tells you. “If you’re okay with it, of course.”

You think about it. Like you really think about it as you finish your last bite of food and sip more of your chocolate milk. “I mean…”

“The bed is big.” He tries to pry on. “I’d sleep on the couch but I’ll fall off, and I don’t wanna see you sleeping on the couch.” He explains, and the reasons were pretty valid.

You nod. “Okay yea… I don’t mind sleeping with you- er- in the bed with you. If that’s what you prefer.”

“Not about what I prefer.” He tells you.

You shrug. “I’ll take the bed with you, it’ll be more comfortable probably anyways.” You finish your chocolate milk, and he watches as you set the glass into the sink after washing it out.

“Just leave it there, I’ll wash it in the morning.” He tells you as soon as you hand touches the faucet handle.

“I can-“

“I’ll wash it in the morning, pup.” He repeated, his voice sounded almost angry, but you knew he was just tired. So you set the glass in the sink, not washing it as he asked, then back away. “Alright. Need anything else?”

“No…” you say softly.

“Okay. Then let’s get some sleep.” He backs away from the island a few steps, and you walk in front of him, leading the way to the bedroom as he turns out every light behind you. Now you could see through the bathroom door that there was a little light plugged into the wall, probably so anyone could find it in the dark.

You turn right and open the door to the bedroom. He follows behind you, closing the door and locking it. Probably a habit he’s picked up from the mansion's doors. You figure. Then make your way back to the tall bed, crawling up onto it.

As soon as you’re sitting with the blanket over your lap, you look back over at him as he goes into the small bathroom you noticed earlier, closing the door behind him, so you lie down with the blankets just under your breasts.

“Are you hot?” He asks you, just exiting the bathroom. Noticing you weren’t as shrouded in the blankets as before you had woken up not long ago.

“No… a little cold actually…” You tell him as he walks to the other side of the bed, your voice softening as you look up at him, his shirt off and he is now only wearing pyjama pants.

“Well cover up a little more than, angel.” His voice is soft also as he gets onto the bed, exerting less effort than you needed to as he sits next to you, gently pulling the blankets up until they were over your shoulders as you were lying on your side now to face him. “Better?”

You nod, and you watch as he gets under the blankets as well. There’s a decent distance between the both of you on the large bed, you wish you could get closer to him. Just to absorb his warmth.

“Goodnight, pup.” He says, his voice still soft as he gets comfortable under the sheets.

“Goodnight, Logan…” Your tone matches his, and he pulls the cord of a lamp on his bedside that was sitting on his nightstand. Casting the room in darkness.

For a few moments, everything was quiet except for the soft rustle of blankets as Logan moved around until he was comfortable. Then there was nothing as your eyes finally drifted back to sleep…

When you wake up, the bed feels smaller than it did before. Your eyes open and there’s little slivers of light touching the walls as the sun shone through the curtains. You try to move a little, feeling warmer than you expected to feel waking up, but something heavy keeps you in place. You look down, the blankets that were up to your chin were now just below your waist, and laying on your waist was an arm. Logan's arm was draped across your waist, with his hand laying on your chest, just between your breasts. He was really close to you, his entire front pressed to your back as he continued to sleep. He must’ve moved closer to you in his sleep.

Suddenly, you hear a quiet groan come from behind you, followed by him managing to move closer, as if he wasn’t already pressed against you. Then you hear his gruffy morning voice, and to be honest, it was music to your ears. “Good morning…” His hand leaves your chest as he makes a little space between your bodies, immediately making you feel cold as his hand moves to the bare skin on your waist instead, your shirt ridden up from your sleep.

“Good morning…” Your voice comes out softer than you had expected, a quiet groan emitting from Logan's throat behind you, and you move slightly, attempting to turn over and face him, but he holds you a little tighter. Hesitantly, your hand moves down to his, still resting on your waist. You gently rest your palm on the back of his hand, twirling one of the golden rings that you’ve seen on his middle finger. His hand gently grabs your waist tighter and his hand slips a little further down, now resting on your stomach with your hand still resting on his as he pulls you closer to him, and you feel it as he leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek.

The bed gets lighter and feels less heavy as his weight finally shifts, moving away from you as he leaves the bed, and you sit up slowly, arching your back to stretch as he moves to a dresser.

“Come here, pup.” He tells you, taking out a large grey shirt. Again, you begin to move off the bed, a struggle as your toes hit the ground first before you can slide off. No one needs a bed this damned tall. You tell yourself as you walk up to him. Still dressed in his flannel, your black matching set underneath. “Here.” He says, swinging the grey shirt over his shoulder before he faces you, and his hands move to the buttons on the flannel you were wearing, but you quickly move to try and undo it yourself. “I’ve got it.” He tells you, gently, but firmly, grabbing your wrists and moving your fingers away from the buttons. “Let me…” His hands move back to the shirt, undoing the buttons then taking a step forward as he takes the flannel off of you, then throws it into a little bin not far away. He then takes the grey shirt off of his shoulder, looking you down for a moment before he puts the shirt over your head, fixing it around your arms. “There’s a brush in the bathroom across from this room, can you get it for me please.” He asks, turning back around to grab his own clothes.

Your feet softly touch the ground, and you make no sound as you move through the quiet cabin. In the restroom, there’s a hairbrush hanging from a little hook on the wall, which you grab before heading right back into the bedroom to see Logan dressed in a different flannel, no longer shirtless, and he was also now wearing a pair of jeans.

“Here.” You hand him the brush, which he takes from you.

“Go ahead and sit over there.” He nods towards a little bench with a leather cushion that was in front of the bed. You hadn’t noticed it before since it was hidden by the tower of a bed. You obey though, making your way to sit on the bench, crossing your legs as you stare at the wall.

Then you feel his hands gently on you, turning you and moving you until you were on the edge of the bench, and then you feel it as he begins brushing your hair. Why the fuck was he taking care of you like this? You ask yourself as he carefully brushes through your hair, making caution to not accidentally pull it.

As soon as he’s done, his voice comes from behind you again. “Are you hungry?” You nod slightly, standing up as he begins to leave the room, and you follow closely behind him. “Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch.” He tells you, and it feels like a demand.

“Logan I can-” You stop talking as he turns towards you, a stern look on his face as his eyes stare into yours, silencing you. You see his chest move as he takes a deep breath. Something felt off. With as much as you appreciated his care, it didn’t feel normal for you. You’re so used to just taking care of yourself, no matter the situation.

“Go sit down.” This time there was no comfort in his voice. It was a demand that you follow. Crossing your arms as you turn around and head towards the couch, sitting on your knee before crossing your legs. You hear the sink turn on, and you assume he’s cleaning your glass from last night. “What’re you hungry for?” He asks, and you think of the simplest thing that comes to your mind first. Toast.

“Toast would-”

“We have eggs, bacon, anything you like.” He interrupts you. You stare at him in the reflection of the TV. He's standing with his hand on the fridge handle, but his body is turned towards you. He wanted you to choose something he could actually prepare.

“I uh… surprise me I guess…” You tell him awkwardly, and his reflection moves again, taking contents out of the fridge that you weren’t able to see on the TV.

A few minutes pass. No conversation, but the cabin smelt amazing. You never took Logan as the type to be able to cook, but here you were, being served by him. Even if you really preferred making your own food. You were an adult after all. You hear clicks as he turns the dials off on the stove, and you hear a cupboard close, followed by the sound of two plates being set on the counter. Bringing you back to reality.

His reflection gets close on the TV, until he’s standing right next to you. He hands you a plate, a serving of steak, egg, and potato on the plate. Something he definitely didn’t have to make for you, but it looked amazing with cheese sprinkled on top. You thank him as you take the plate, and he sits right next to you on the couch with his own food.

One of his arms wrap around your shoulders in another side hug, his lips pressing to the top of your head, and you smile slightly, but the smile immediately falters as you then feel his lips press to your cheek, just at the corner of your lips, making you flinch, and you feel yourself practically shrink into the couch. His beard rubs against your cheek as his lips do touch you. It all felt so wrong, as you gently took his arm off of you again, your appetite suddenly smaller. “You don’t have to worry about anything.” He tells you, his voice making your stomach feel funny. “I’ll take care of you. All you have to do is sit there and look beautiful…”

[indigosunsetao3]

Submission for @glitterypirateduck's #CoDVacationMode challenge.

Title: Best Laid Plans Pairing: 141 x Reader, (Female Reader) Warning: 18+, implied smut, sexual situations, sexual thoughts Prompts: Budget Motel, Solo Vacation, Running into the same person (s) Word Count: 4.3k Summary: A nice long holiday to 'find yourself' is just what you need after a messy breakup. You look forward to the restful retreat for months, dreaming about what you'll do with all your free time. But when the trip finally arrives, everything goes completely off the rails.

This got extremely out of hand in length, as my stuff usually does. I can do a part two if there is an interest 💙

The summer plan of 'finding yourself' after an extremely messy breakup was not going to plan. In the slightest. You were supposed to hop off the plane on an island in the Mediterranean, catch a ride to your rented flat, and find a lovely man, or five, to occupy your next month in blissful self love.

The first flight had been extremely uncomfortable in coach, the seats too small and your neighbor too loud to be able to sleep. That was fine you told yourself, it was just a few hours. You had a four poster bed with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean to sleep in for the next few weeks. What was a few hours?

Then when you arrived at the impossibly small airport after the second flight you found out your luggage hadn't made it. It was still on the mainland and they'd be sending it on the next flight; which wasn't until the following day. Fine. You could survive on your travel clothes for a night.

But the final straw had been when you arrived at your rented space to find the owner standing outside the place. It was flooded. Completely and utterly ruined, water running from the ceiling where the pipes had burst and their other place was already booked. So were all the other areas around. Summertime on the island was busy which was why you had to book this place out four months in advance. The owner apologized and hoped to have it ready in a few weeks so maybe you could finish your vacation there.

The only place with a vacancy is a small motel on the edge of town that looks like it rents rooms by the hour. You sigh as the taxi drops you and you walk up to the front counter. It's like the start of a horror movie, the fluorescent link flickering as you sign in and pay for a room. You'll find something better tomorrow you tell yourself.

At ten at night, there is nowhere around to eat so you settle for the vending machine that is on the way to your room. It only accepts cash. You hadn't had the chance to exchange currency, that was part of the plan for tomorrow. This was turning into such a disaster. Maybe you should have just stayed home, maybe it was the universe letting you know that this was not going to be the hot girl summer you thought.

Tilting your head back to hold back the frustrated, and tired, tears you hear footsteps approach. Carefully wiping your face you turn to see a man standing behind you at the machine, casually digging out his wallet as he looks at you.

"Oh, please go ahead," you mutter as you step aside, "I was just...leaving."

"Didn't find anything appetizing?" The man asks as he steps forward and peruses the selection inside.

"No cash. Had a bit of a change of plans and didn't expect my first night in the country would be vending machine food."

"You should always carry local currency," the man says with a grin and you catch the emblem on his ball cap is a British flag. Perhaps another tourist.

"I'm figuring that out," you answer as you look at your room key number to see where you need to go.

"What do you want?" He asks as he makes a selection, a candy bar.

You pause and stare at him with an eyebrow raise. You weren't one to accept anything from strangers but you were starving.

"What do you want?" You parrot back at him taking a step back.

He chuckles eyes roving over you before producing another bill and stuffing it into the feeder.

"No strings. Just don't think you should go to bed hungry. Even if it's shitty vending machine food." He presses in the selection and watches it fall to the tray below before bending down to retrieve the bag and holds it out to you. "Crisps?"

"Thanks," you say skeptically, taking it and preparing to run.

He smirks, unwrapping his own sweet treat and taking a bite. "See you."

You wait until he is gone, disappearing into his room down the line before hustling to your room. You slip in and slam the door shut, sliding the chain and lock into place before flipping on the light. The room is about as delightful as any seedy motel that hadn't had an update since the eighties would be. You're fairly certain something skittered under the bed when you flipped the lights on.

The next day isn't going better.

You can't find anywhere else to stay on the island. No one has any sort of openings for at least a week. Your luggage had arrived at the place you were supposed to be staying at, but since no one was there they took it back to Athens. You spend another few frustrating hours to arrange it to arrive at the motel but now they say it'll be another two days. You couldn't do another two days of dirty clothes and motel soap.

You opt to go shopping, to try and make the best of it and find some nice airy clothes and hygiene provisions. Shopping takes up the rest of your day and when you arrive back at the sketchy motel you walk up to your door and slide your key in the lock to get in. It jams. You rattle the knob in frustration, juggling your bags as you fight with it.

It's not budging.

"Need a hand?" Someone calls and you turn to see the man from the night before. But he also has a friend. The other guy is older, a bit taller, definitely gruffier, and would have been a bit more intimidating if he didn't have a boonie hat on like your father.

"Ah, no I got it," you answer as you try to shoulder the door open. It doesn't budge and you sigh.

"Here," he offers walking over, his friend lingering back with his hip on the railing just watching.

You step away from the door as he wiggles the key a bit and grabs the handle, his hand completely encapsulating the knob, and he lifts it. The lock slides free when he twists the key open again and he opens the door allowing you to slip past.

"Humidity shifts the doors, just give them a good lift," he says with a grin as you shuffle past and turn to stare up at him. You watch as his eyes sweep over the room before back to you.

"Well, I'll hopefully only be here another day or two," you answer, "thank you..." you pause to get his name.

"John."

"John," you say with a nod before moving to shut the door.

"Wait," his hand stops the door shutting and your heart jumps into your throat. "Key," he supplies pulling it from the knob and holding it to you. "Don't want anyone just wandering by and letting themselves in," he finishes with a small wink before turning away as you snick the door shut. You watch him walk away through the eyehole before turning back to your dismal room to make the most of your evening.

You are going to the beach today.

You had enough of phone calls, trying to make arrangements, and sitting in the infested motel room. Perhaps this was all part of that grand universe plan, a great story to tell later and a lesson to just roll with whatever was thrown at you.

You didn't have your suit but that was fine; a summer dress and a bottle of wine tucked into the tote bag you bought would keep you entertained. There is a public spot to visit and you decide to walk, taking in the summer day and the sights as you wander. Finally happening upon the beach an hour later before groaning. It's all the way down a hill, a hill full of steep stone steps that look like would be your demise at one misstep. Fuck it, you came this far.

Pulling out the wine you wander down carefully, sipping right from the bottle as you go. You don't pass anyone on the way down and when you make it to the sand half the bottle is already gone. You should have brought two. No matter.

You walk along the shoreline watching the water lap against the sand as you continue to sip. You aren't sure what the rules are for alcohol on the beach, let alone in public, so you keep tucking the bottle away as people happen upon you. A man runs past you and you twist to watch him pass. He grins at you over his shoulder but that's the only acknowledgement he gives you before he continues.

But then he comes back a few minutes later, slipping past you with a polite 'excuse me', hands brushing your shoulders as you step into the shallow surf to give him space. He's shirtless this time and you stare boldly as he goes, twirling the bottle in your fingers as you watch the sun shining on the sweat on his back. You bring the wine up to your lips to finish the last dregs, leaning back a bit tipsily to get the last drop. When you tilt forward again you nearly splutter the liquid out as you see the man standing right in front of you. How did he get back to you so quickly?

"Drink that whole thing yourself?" He asks, his Scottish accent thick as he eyes the bottle in your hand. You almost see a twinkle in his eye at your unsubtle attempt to grip the neck of the bottle to prepare to swing it as a weapon if needed.

"Going to tattle on me?" You shoot back willing your eyes to stay on his face. Not the way his chest heaves a bit to catch his breath, the lines of his muscles on his stomach that are taunt and oh so chiseled. And definitely not at his arms where the veins are on prominent display after all the cardio. Fuck. You snap your eyes up and he's smirking at you like a cheshire cat.

"Me? Never," he answers before looking over at the hill and the stairs, the only way back up. "Just curious if you plan on spending the evening down here," he grins, "you'll break your neck walking up those after all that. Especially out here in the sun, nary a drop of water in sight." With that, he sips on his own bottle of water and pulls his shirt that he's tucked into the waistband of his pants to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Be better than where I'm staying now," you mutter glaring at the stairs for a moment. "I think I have a multi generational family of roaches under my bed."

"Aye, roaches are better than rats though," the man states and he sees your eyes widen. "Thinking better of camping out here?" He laughs as you turn to stomp toward the stairs. You better start walking now if you want to make it out by sundown.

He follows though and you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

"Only way in or out," he reasons and you sigh before beginning your hike.

Your legs are on fire after only twenty steps and there are many more to go. He's a few steps behind, quietly following and politely looking at the ground, at least when you turn to stare at him. Halfway up you can't take it anymore and you step off to the side to bend over to breathe. The wine is churning in your stomach and you're slick with sweat from the heat. You wave him to go past you but you watch his legs stop in your vision before he taps you on the arm with his water bottle.

You snatch it with a muttered thanks before taking a few sips and handing it back. He's watching you quietly before you stand up and continue your march in silence with him still lingering a few steps behind you.

At the top, you breathe a sigh of relief before remembering you've still got about an hour's walk back. Maybe the rats would leave you alone if you just crawled under the bushes on the side of the road and slept there.

"We have to stop running into one another like this," comes a voice that makes your head snap up. It's the man from the motel in the baseball cap half leaning out the passenger window as he looks at you with a grin.

"I'm beginning to think you're following me," you answer the tone not a joke.

"Small island," he reasons as the guy from the beach walks around to climb in the car. Did all of these people know one another?

"Great, well enjoy," you answer and twist to walk the opposite way of the car.

"Motel's the other way," he calls and you hesitate in your steps. Goddamn it.

"Small island, I'll just walk the circle and get there eventually."

"We'll give you a ride." John is driving and he's watching you in the side mirror.

"I'm fine, thanks!" You shoot back and continue walking, stumbling a bit over some loose gravel.

"Careful."

A hand catches your elbow and you yank it back quickly looking up. Was all of Britain on this vacation? What are the odds you run into yet another British guy based on his accent?

""m fine," you snap as you take in him. He's tall, so tall you have to crane your head back to look at him. There isn't much to see of his face though between the black facial mask and sunglasses. He has a bag of what looks like takeaway in his hands and someone yells from the car for him to hurry up.

"The stumbling walk tells me otherwise," he answers as he blocks your path from continuing your walk. "Not safe to be out here alone in your state."

"Yeah? And what? Safer for me to get in the car with you lot?" You glance over your shoulder where the men inside the car continue to watch.

"Yes." He nods off to the right where another group of men are watching the whole scene unfold and as if on queue one wolf whistles while staring blatantly at you. "Considering Johnny was kind enough to keep them away from you on your walk, I would view us as the lesser of two evils."

"I-what?"

"It's the middle of the hottest part of the day, you think he went for a run for fun?" He laughs a bit, "get in the car."

Something about his tone is commanding enough for your confused, and tired, brain to listen. Maybe it's stupid. No, it is stupid. But what other choice do you have? You walk toward the car and the man in the back, Johnny, leans over to open it from the inside and you climb in.

The back seat is cramped once the other guy climbs in and he shoves the food into your hands, his knees tucked nearly to his chest. You take it before staring at John as he pulls off the curb and heads back to the motel.

Your heart is hammering through the whole drive, staring at street names, markers, anything to help you when they inevitably drove you down some side road and tried to murder you. No, they'd certainly murder you. Johnny's arms were the size of a small child and the guy next to you looks as if he could smash you under his foot.

True to their word though, you arrive back at the motel very much alive. Johnny gets out first and you slide out next to him and hand him the food with a shove before making to run for your room.

"Hang on," comes the big guy in the face mask's voice. You halt and twist as he walks over and sticks a Styrofoam box into your hands. "Living off wine and vending food is no way to spend your vacation." You swear he's grinning as you stare down at the box before he twists away to follow the other three men toward their room.

The food is delicious. You sit in the very center of your bed, above the blankets, and eat it all while watching the fuzzy television. You realize as you doze off in your wine haze that they had bought you food. There had been five boxes of in your hand sitting in that car as if they knew you'd say yes.

A few hours later you decide this was it. This was the thing that was going to send you into a breakdown.

Sunburnt, hungover, and the goddamn water in the shower is a very slow trickle that barely splashes the bottom of the tub. When you attempt to call the front desk for help it just rings. And rings. You're near hysterics in laughter, or rage, as you storm toward the door. Whoever is at the front desk is about to get an earful of misplaced anger.

Flinging the door open you make to storm right down to the front when a bit of your senses come back. You don't have shoes on and you are very much wrapped in just a towel. You twist to try and stop the door but it clicks shut just as your palm hits it. Shit. Shit. You wriggle the door handle hoping against hope that it didn't lock properly but it's good and snug in its place.

Gripping the towel knot at your collarbone you walk over to the railing and peer toward the front desk. Maybe no one would be around and you could just dart in there, ask the manager for another key, and run back before anyone saw.

The office is dark; they've closed for the evening it seems which is why no one had picked up.

"Oh my god," you whine as you twist to look back at your still very much closed and locked door. What do you do now? No phone, no key, no clothes. You glance to the right as someone steps out of their room and the leering look he gives you makes your stomach churn.

Lesser of two evils comes the masked guy's words. Right.

Before you can think better you walk down to the room that you know the four men are staying in and bang on the door. It's the middle of the night so you assume you're about to wake them but you barely get two knocks before it swings open. John is standing there looking very much awake, and perhaps a bit shocked at the state you're in.

Goddamn.

Where Johnny had been chiseled bronze earlier this guy is a broad-shouldered solid wall of man that you hadn't noticed the first time. He's not nearly as cut, but you know that brute strength lingers under his skin. Your eyes trace over his pecs that seem to bulge under his compression t-shirt.

"Ah, I know it's late...and this is all a bit odd," you say, your eyes sweeping into the room to see Johnny and the masked guy playing cards at a small table, their eyes darting between you and their hands. "But my shower wasn't working and one stupid thing led to another and I locked myself out of my room and the front desk is closed." You glance at the other stranger still standing watching you. "And I'm pretty sure if I don't get somewhere else my neighbor is going to kidnap me."

John looks out the door at the man who's smoking and smirking now and his hand gently comes between your shoulder blades to guide you inside.

"Kyle is just finishing up his shower then you can get cleaned up. See if I can scrounge up a shirt instead of just...that," his eyes give your body a once over and you feel goosebumps break out along your spine at the scrutiny.

You shuffle inside and grip at your towel to make sure it's good and wrapped before leaning against a dresser. This is so fucking awkward. The other two men continue their game doing their best to not stare and you jiggle your leg restlessly. What the hell were you going to do now? Just...sit here with them all night? You should have slept on the beach and risked the rats.

"This a guys' trip?" You ask into the silence in an attempt to fill it, noticing there were only two beds for the four men.

"Something like that," John answers as he brushes past you to sit on one of the beds. "What brings you here?"

"I decided to follow a stupid self-help book about finding yourself and a series of unfortunate events landed me here. I'm going to leave the author a horrible review." You sigh wistfully as the bathroom door opens. "I was supposed to be staying on the beach with my pick of men to bring home every night and just a nice break from reality for a bit. Little bit of 'eat pray love' in my life. But this has been a disaster."

"You've got at least one of those things," comes a voice, Kyle, as he walks out of the bathroom in just a towel slung around his hips. You have to mentally make sure your mouth is not hanging open at the sight because, fucking hell, he's gorgeous. The steam curling off his skin, water droplets still glistening on his chest, and a smile that about takes you out.

"Bloody showoff," Johnny mutters and you glance over at him before back to Kyle.

"Says the one running shirtless earlier, how's the burn?" The masked guy asks as he shows his cards and Johnny tosses his own in disgust at the loss.

"Sorry. What was that you mentioned? I've got one of the things?" You ask your hackles up a bit. This whole trip had been an absolute disaster, you hadn't gotten anything you had hoped for so far. "Fairly certain this motel is not the beachside villa I booked."

"Having your pick of men to bring home to your place," Kyle answers simply as if it were obvious. "I mean technically you're in our place but that's semantics." He waves a hand absently at the final word and you feel your toes curl at the thought, which he clocks instantly.

"I-what?" You ask a bit shocked looking between all of them.

"Do you think we would tell you no? Especially in that little number," John asks with a grin, his eyes on your fingers as you tug at the towel to see if it would grow an extra inch to cover more skin.

"And if I were to pick? What then? Rest of you go stand outside and wait? Sounds boring for the rest of you." You snipe sounding braver than you felt in an attempt to call their bluff. Surely they were messing with you.

"Can't just pick one doll," the masked guy answers and your eyes widen. "All or none, otherwise someone will be jealous and it's a whole fucking thing." You can see his eyes crinkle with a smirk.

Oh. Fuck. You squirm a bit under all their watchful eyes.

"Way to cut to the chase Simon," Kyle mutters as he takes in your shocked face.

"Dancing around it doesn't change it," Simon answers as he leans forward in his chair to peer at you. His head is cocked to the side a bit as if studying you, watching your body language as you process the newest development.

"All...are all of you," you stumble over your words, the filthy thoughts going through your mind despite the shock of it. "At the same time?"

"Promise we won't break you...unless you ask," Johnny supplies with a grin. "We can start slow though," he reasons cutting a look over at Simon as if warning him to keep his mouth shut.

"Can I," you lick your lips and dare a glance at the bathroom, "can I have a moment?" Because you are going to combust under their heated looks if you don't get away to breathe.

Kyle steps to the side and gestures to the bathroom to which you scamper to as quickly as possible. You shut the door with a snap and flip the lock before gripping the counter.

Were you really considering this? How could you not? But four men? Strangers. But the part you were most looking forward to of this vacation was no strings attached sex. And they certainly looked interested in helping you with that plan. Four? How would that even? Fuck, Kyle looked good. And how would it feel to grip onto John's chest and just...ride him? Shit, stop. But Johnny's arms looked plenty strong enough to hold you down so Simon could make you scream. Stop! These men had been purposely corralling you these past few days. But it was hot...how they wanted you. To share you. No.

Your brain is a garbled mess of thoughts as you look at yourself in the mirror. You need a drink, or ten. You take a shuddering breath, then another, as you steel yourself for your decision.

You only live once, right? You could always tell them to stop if you didn't want it. You could change your mind halfway through and end it...though you doubted you'd back out since just the thought of so many hands all over you, worshipping you, made your core ache with need. After all these shitty few days you deserved a good night, dammit. And who better to help than four men who had quite literally been chasing you around the island? Maybe the universe wasn't such a bitch after all.

"Fuck it," you announce as you pull open the bathroom door to give them your answer. But Kyle is already standing there and he grips you by the back of the neck to pull you to him in a heated kiss, stealing the rest of your words out of your mouth.

[merakiui]

putting some skully ideas here so i can get him out of my brain!!!!

✧ skully x classical literature professor, who he drugs and kidnaps because he knows in his heart you understand him and appreciate the classics in the same way he does.

✧ making a wrong turn that leaves you stranded in an unfamiliar, mist-shrouded town at the craggy foothills. your car has suspiciously garnered a flat (slashed) tire… hopefully the townsfolk are kind enough to help.

✧ morbid dollification. skully falls in love with the corpse he’s dug up from a grave, thinking you to be his fated sweetheart. as your body rots, he fixes it up, replacing your insides with soft cotton, stitching sagging limbs, hollowing out your eyes to place two pretty marbles. your body parts are kept preserved in jars and he arranges them on a shelf that makes up a shrine dedicated to you. everyone else will call him crazy, but this is what love is.

✧ ghostface skully……… horror trivia,,, tnbc trivia over the phone… “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

✧ cult skully. small town that celebrates and honors samhain and its traditions and here you are, an outsider with outlandish ideas that do not match with theirs at all. no matter. skully will show you what real halloween is. :)

✧ pumpkin farmer skully!!! :D you visit in need of a few pumpkins for last minute halloween party preparations, unaware that these pumpkins are actually people. walking through the pumpkin patch and tripping over a thick vine, which was actually a poorly buried femur, but you’re too busy following skully to look back.

✧ i once saw a brilliant fanart of skully in a straitjacket….. you’re the nurse to this patient, who has been admitted on criminal insanity. and oh is he a unique case. (serial killer skully…)

✧ skully kidnapping idol darling after he finds out you’ve been in a secret relationship this entire time and aren’t the pure darling he thought you were.

✧ grim reaper skully.

✧ skully turning you into a pumpkin and keeping you on his shelf. kissing it every chance he gets, sometimes even lifting it up and twirling around his room with it. it really is a shame. :( he was hoping you’d understand his feelings, but you tried to run away and he just couldn’t have that. you can stay a pumpkin for now. after all, pumpkins can’t speak or flee.

✧ the best time to commit a crime is on halloween, or so skully thinks. no one will bat an eye if he’s dressed like a killer because it’s just a harmless costume. and no one will know what happened to you when you accepted that delicious apple cider from him.

✧ the horror of being kept in complete darkness and isolation (for conditioning purposes), chained and dressed in clothes chosen by skully, sleeping on a dingy mattress, only ever knowing him. at first, you associate his presence with fear and disgust. you hate him, his voice, his cold fingertips, his warm lips, his entire existence. but he’s the only company you have here. inevitably, with a brain so muddled and broken you’d think he’d lobotomized you, you’ll come to associate skully with comfort. you’re relieved he’s come to banish the shadows with his bright, gentle presence, enveloping you in a suffocating hug and kissing all over your face, cooing about how much he missed you and how he adores you so very dearly. and, rather than jerk away in fear, you reciprocate. what other choice do you have?

✧ self-aware skully in a halloween-themed otome. <3 why would you want to fall in love with mad scientist azul? or ghost butler jade? or that riddle, who is always in mourning? why look at any of those choices when you have him, the character who was only meant to be a side character and not a love interest!! but he knows you’ll understand. you’ll have to when he’s the only choice.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Supe!Y/N x Non Supe! John

Even though Y/N is the one with powers, John still has to kill spiders and other insects.

Y/N walked through the door exhausted from Vought and it’s bullshit. Playing both sides was hard and it took a toll on her. John gave her a soft smile and she yawned and collapsed in his arms. “How’s my hero?” He asked and she groaned. “Tired of bullshit.” She mumbled in his neck. “How about I run you a hot bath?” He asked. He felt her nod and stood up. She looked tired and her hair was messy. “I’ll meet you in there.” She said walking to the bedroom. Before she could even make it through the door she saw the spider crawling on the wall in front of her right by their bed. “John.” She yelled now wide awake. “Yeah?” “Come here.” She heard him walk to her and she pointed to the creature that was now above their bed. He chuckled and walked to the kitchen to grab a paper towel. He walked back and noticed his wife’s eyes following the creature. He chuckled and stood on their bed to get it. “Ya know for a Supe you are pretty scared of spiders but not bad guys?” “My powers don’t eliminate my fears babe.” She said and began to strip down as he threw the paper towel away. 

Though Y/N is a supe John still gets worried and wants to help her and the boys 

They walked through the door of the flat that the boys had. Billy looked up and saw the two. “Are you allowing him to take compound V?” Billy asked her with a smirk. “Nope and the answer will never change.” Y/N told him as they sat down. “How’s he gonna be useful today then?” “Well I’m not exactly sure but we can figure out something.” “He can’t exactly go on missions luv. He’s your husband.” “Technically Billy that’s not true.” Y/N said. “Hes with me and he’s aloud in my office that has a Vought monitored computer.” She winked. John looked at her confused, “wait I’m here for moral support and so you don’t get hurt.” He told het not wanting to go on a mission without V. “Well babe you can protect me but going on my computer.” She told him. Billy chuckled and the man’s reaction. “Oh come on now give him some V.” “No.” Y/N said and stood up. “He’s fine without it.” “But he’d be better with it.” 

Billy once snuck John some V and Y/N wasn’t happy about it.

“She’s going to kill me, us when she finds out.” John told Billy as he injected him. “She’ll get over it.” Billy says but John knew his wife. When John took V he had laser eyes and could fly like his wife. “I can’t even hide it.” He said. John didn’t have complete control over the powers. “Yeah well ya don’t have to.” Y/N walked in and saw the two men. They froze as they saw her and hoped she couldn’t tell that he took some. Luckily she didn’t and greeted them as such. As they were going over the plan John kept shaking. Y/N looked at him worried as his body was begging for a release of power. “You okay?” She asked, placing a hand on his arm. He was practically vibrating. “Why the fuck are you vibrating?” She asked. He gave her a nervous smile and her face dropped. She looked over at Billy, “are you fucking serious?” She asked with a growl. Billy smirked at her, “What’s wrong?” He asked like he had no idea. “YOU GAVE MY HUSBAND COMPOUND V AFTER I TOLD YOU NOT TO.” She yelled at him. “He could be more useful.” Billy argued. “HE DOESN’T NEED TO BE. ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL HIM?” She asked. “He’ll be fine.” “Babe-“ “Yeah and you know this how?” She asked. “Babe please, I need to use my powers.” She looked at him and sighed. “Okay let’s go outside. I really want you to use them on Billy but we need him alive.” “Ay.” She ignored him and took John outside. 

As John was lasering stuff she let out a dramatic sigh. He looked at her, “are you okay?” He asked walking up to her. She looked up at him, “Babe I don’t want you on that stuff. It’s not safe.” She tells him. He cups her face and smiles, “You worry too much.” He says. “Well someone has to.” She says and he chuckles. “I love you baby and I promise you this will be the last time.” He says. “It better be John.” 

Author’s Note: Taking Request for The Boys!!!

[mothandpidgeon]

Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.

Words: 2k

Rating: G

Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it

a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.

Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.

Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 

If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.

He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.

But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 

He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 

That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.

Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 

Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 

And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 

There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  

Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 

Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 

“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.

“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.

It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.

Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 

Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 

He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 

His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 

---

“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 

You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 

But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 

“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”

His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 

“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 

His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 

“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 

You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 

“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”

He regards his choice again. It’s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 

“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.

“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 

“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 

His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 

“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 

It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 

“Pads,” you say. 

He nods. 

You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 

“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”

He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.

“This many?” he asks. 

“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”

“I think so.”

“How about a heating pad?”

He shakes his head. 

“Go get one,” you advise. 

He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 

“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 

You feel your own cheeks heat. 

---

Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 

“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.

“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.

Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.

Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 

He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.

It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.

“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”

Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 

“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 

Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 

“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 

“I owe you one,” he says.

She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”

Joel grins. 

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 

Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 

---

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

[lilbeetlebean]

I dunno what possessed me to decide to write this out but here we are. It is not proof-read or edited. I may come back and clean it up at some point but who knows.

Themes: slight enemies to friends, pinning, happy dunkardness + violence mentioned.

Ennjoooy :)

Outside of the Farm Wisp spent a good amount of her free time hanging at the tavern, often leaving far later than any sane farmer would dare.

She was slamming back a few beers when she heard the familiar bell ring as the front door was pushed open. In walked March most likely here for his evening meal after completing his own days work. Wisp bit her lip as her inner conflict kicked in. She had kind of been avoiding him since they had their Saturday market altercation over his comment a few days previously, but he HAD been right and she HAD asked Vera to cut her hair shorter. Her clear dew coloured eyes were a little cloudy from the alcohol she had consumed, as they stared into the contents of her glass. She took a sharp inhale, slammed the rest of her beer and turned to wave March over to the seat nested to her.

“March, c’mere sit with me, let me buy you a drink”

“Why?” His voice was flat, cold. Wisp pretended not to hear the tone and grinned up at his face her cheeks burning she assumed from the, was it 3 or 4 drinks she’s had?

“As a peace offering, for losing my temper the other day….”

“….And punching you”

“….alright ONE beer”

Her face beamed at that response, waving hemlock down and ordering two more pints for them. That warm fuzzy glow of drunkardness was beginning to make itself at home in the pit of her belly. She took another swig and before she could stop her mouth had started out on some long ranting apology of her earlier behaviour.

She was so frustrating, one day she’s physically attacking him, the next she’s completely ignoring his existence. He only knew this for fact as Olric had mentioned her asking when they wouldn’t be around the forage for her to be able to smelt down some ore she had recently acquired. Usually the infuriating woman had no problem invading his space during working hours to accomplish one of the many tasks she seemed to set out doing. It had been almost four days since he had even laid eyes on the brunette farmer.

March signed and pushed his hand through the front of his hair pushing it back out of his face only for it to flop right back into place. ‘At least She’ll stop by on Friday’ he thought to himself. Blinking once, twice March shook his head irritated by this thought. Why did he even know the exact timeframe he had last seen Wisp, and WHY did he even care if she stopped by on Friday.

He pushed the tavern door open, he must’ve been tired from work. A good meal and some rest would clear his mind of these thoughts. That’s when he heard his name being called from the corner by a familiar albe slightly slurred voice.

The first thing he noticed was her hair. It was significantly shorter than the last time. March scoffed, so that’s why she’s been avoiding him. She was to proud to admit her wrongness in their previous fight.

His head rested in his hand as he watched Wisp talk about her more recent finds within the mines, his one beer turning into three. With her hair finally out of her face he could clearly see the features of her face. This being the first time March had seen her not scowling or fighting or yelling or throwing hands at him. The sound of her laughter was like bells as she laughed at a cheesy bartending joke Hemlock had made that he hadn’t quite caught. A lopsided smile curled onto his lips as he continued to watch Wisp chatter away. Beaming, bright like a full moon.

“Huh…..she’s actually…kind of…….cute”

Wisps head whipped from the conversation she was having in his direction ‘shit did I say that out loud’

March quickly turned his head away a gentle hand coming to rest on his upper arm “hmm? Did you say something March ? Sorry Hemlock was just telling me about his latest concoction” her fingers wiggled in front of his face as she said Concoction and whatever breathe he had been holding in freed itself. She hadn’t heard him, thank god. March stood abruptly then hands resting in the bar surface “I have to go, early day tomorrow n’all. thanks for the dinner Hemlock” he placed the appropriate amount of tesserae on the countertop and rushed out the door.

Wisp looked surprised as she looked between the door where March had just exited and Hemlocks face increasingly hard to read in her current state.

[blurredcolour]

I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year.  Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

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Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

[pretty-blkgirl]

Minho Day

//gn!reader x Minho//

Synopsis: You reminisce a little on your and your boyfriend’s relationship

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None (unless you count a little bit of swearing)

A/N: It’s our Lee Know’s birthday!!!! Y’all I love this man so much I don’t think you understand 😭 Fun fact: both Lee Know and I were born on the 25th of October 😌 So Happy Birthday to me too (at least in Korea lmao). Trust and believe I’ll be putting out another story tomorrow for my birthday 🫶🏾

~~~~|~~~~

“Be careful” Minho sighs, watching closely as you attempt to cut the Kimchi you just prepared. You move carelessly with the scissors, almost catching your fingers in the blades before he takes them from you.

“Lemme do it love, you go make your lemonade”

You nod and stand up from the seat at the dining room table to go into the kitchen. Once there, you start grabbing the ingredients for your homemade strawberry lemonade.

You can hear Minho humming in the room, a new song Chan helped him write last week. You remember him excitedly calling you down to the studio to listen to it.

It was perfect, so romantic and intimate. It wasn’t until the song finished that he revealed it was about you. You cried maybe 4 times as you listened to the song on repeat.

Minho always did little romantic stuff like that. On your first date, he took you to a fancy restaurant and then on a nice, long walk in the park.

After he took you home, he stayed up all night clutching his chest as his heart started to fill with unwavering love for you. He was so embarrassed that he had already fallen head over heels.

He couldn’t wait to see you again, so he got up at 2 AM and went back to your house, standing outside your window with a speaker, blasting the playlist he made for you.

You were, obviously, very confused when you woke up to a random cheesy love song playing outside, but when you walked to the window, opened it, and peered out to see Minho, you could only giggle at his antics.

He would spend the next few days apologizing to your neighbors and roommates for waking them up. He honestly didn’t know what came over him, he just had to go see you.

He was so far gone when it came to you. All thought and logic went out the door when he started to think of you. He was a fool for you, and vice versa.

On your first anniversary, he decided to take you horseback riding.

It was a trainwreck

He stepped in horse poop, and almost fell off the horse one time so he was scared to get back on, it started storming even though the forecast predicted a low chance of rain, and you guys got a flat tire on your way back home.

He felt so defeated as you two sat in the car on the side of the road, completely soaked from the sudden rain storm.

“I’m sorry baby” He sighs, looking over at you with the saddest eyes. You could only smile largely, taking his hand and kissing it.

“Sorry? For what? I had so much fun!”

He looks taken aback, but his shock is quickly replaced with a look of relief.

“You did? How? Everything went wrong”

“Nuh-uh!” You disagree, “The horses were so sweet! And I got to ride them for a whole hour before it started raining. The horse’s owner was able to clean your shoes for you, and it was so romantic to be caught out in the rain”

“Romantic?” He repeats, “How is this romantic babe?”

“I don’t know! You always see couples dancing and kissing in the rain in movies, it’s cute”

He smiles softly at you before looking out the window to see the rain still falling.

“It’ll be a while before Chan Hyung can get here with a spare tire,” He says, “How about we take advantage of this romantic moment?”

You watch as he goes to his phone and finds the playlist he made for you a while back. He puts on the most romantic song he can find, and puts it on through the radio.

He then turns it up loud enough to where you can hear it from outside the car. He gets out of the car and runs to your side to open your door.

“May I have this dance?” He asks, making you roll your eyes playfully. He holds out his hand and you take it, allowing him to help you out of the car.

You two start to dance on the empty road, hoping no one comes and ruins your moment.

You get through 4 songs before Chan pulls up with Hyunjin (who immediately starts snapping photos of you two).

That was when you realized Minho would do anything for you. He would do anything to make you happy, and you would do anything for him as well.

Before you know it, you’re done with your lemonade, and you walk back into the dining room with a full pitcher. Minho is finishing setting up the table when he sees you.

“Baby I missed you,” He says dramatically, which would usually make you laugh but you could only cry when you thought about how much he means to you.

He was your absolute everything. You never knew you could experience a love so beautiful, so powerful, and so unconditional.

He started to panic when he saw the tears run down your face. He took the pitcher from your hands and set it down, staring at you with pure concern.

“What’s the matter, baby? What happened?”

“Nothing,” You say through sniffles, “I was just…”

You sigh and he runs your back, silently encouraging you.

“I was thinking about some of our memories and….you mean so much to me. I love you so much that it scares me.”

He stares a bit more before chuckling

“You’re crying because you love me? I thought you fucked up the lemonade or something”

You groan and playfully punch him in the arm. You knew he was only joking so you would stop crying

And it worked

“In case you didn’t know” He started, “I love you so much that it scares the shit out of me too. Now wipe your tears and come eat with me”

You find it ironic that he tells you to wipe away your tears because he’s wiping your face before you can even lift your hand.

You two take a seat across from each other at the rather small table. Immediately you start to talk and joke around with one another.

Everything just felt so good, so right.

When you two were done eating, he sat back in his chair and set his hands in his stomach to signify he was full.

“Dinner was a great baby” You say

“Thanks, babe, I made most of it”

You laugh again before getting up and going into the kitchen to find the present you were hiding in the cabinet and pull out the small cake you had gotten him earlier from the fridge.

You walk back into the dining room to see Minho send you a smirk

“For me?” He asks with a hand over his chest.

You smile, setting the cake down in front of him and putting the present on the floor. After a quick happy birthday song, you kiss his cheek and whisper;

“Happy birthday baby”

[bug-bites]

whatcha lookin at buddy? :3

tw: none!! just some silly fluffy romantic hcs, also not edited bc im just an eepy lil guy

pairing: rodolfo "rudy" parra x gn!reader

summary: uhhh your boyfriend shares his silly little late night habit with you or something

characters: rodolfo "rudy" parra

notes: i never know what to title these things also i know the formatting is ugly!! i wrote this in my notes app and was too lazy to make it look decent,, <(＿　＿)>

rudy never was one to sleep early, in all honesty he seemed to do the complete opposite. he would always go to bed hours later after you. you never understood why.

it wasn't anything that made you suspicious, he wouldnt go far, most of the time he would still be at home, just outside. it was just odd, but it didnt seem like anything bad?

one night you woke up and there was an unfamiliar emptiness beside you, rudy wasnt there next to you like he was right before you fell asleep

its the middle of the night what else would this guy be doing at 2am??

so you're panicking a bit, you wake up and your boyfriend isnt next to you. sure maybe hes just pissing but you're tired and logic isnt the first thing that comes to mind

you call out for him, your throat a bit dry after you've just woken up and it comes out a bit more panicked than you intended

you sit up, eyes scanning the room looking for him- any sign of him

a sigh of relief leaves your lips, he's there. he's in your bedroom, back turned to you as he gazes upwards, out the window.

as soon as he hears his name his head whips around, why are you panicking?? whats going on?? did something happen? did you have a nightmare? most importantly, are you okay?

but he hears your sigh and you mumble something under your breath. he closes the curtains and walks towards you, gently cupping your cheek

"qué pasa?" "sorry i just- you weren't next to me and i just panicked" "nothing to be sorry for."

his voice is soft, barely above a whisper. he runs his thumb along your cheekbone, holding your cheek so tenderly it feels like you're about to melt

"it's okay. im right here."

"what were you doing?" you ask him, its about damn time he tells you anyways and you're getting curious about his strange nighttime habit "you'll find out tomorrow. its better if its a surprise." he kisses your forehead and climbs back into bed with you. "what if i dont want it to be a surprise?" "well thats not up to you. now go to sleep, cariño"

one his arms snake around your waist, the other making its way under your head, like a pillow but better

the next night, as soon as it gets dark he finally lets you in on his not so secret secret.

he grabs your hand, your fingers intertwining with his and leads you outside to a picnic blanket

"its a bit late for a picnic." you say with a yawn

he rolls his eyes as he walks over to the blanket, lying down flat on his back. you do the same, curious to what his next move was.

"stop looking at me and look up" he says with a chuckle

you listen to him and look up, hundreds of stars scattered in the distant sky. its calm, the sounds of the crickets chirping, his hand in yours, your back flat against the picnic blanket, its so serene you almost forget to breathe

"i used to do this all the time when i was younger." rudy says, breaking the silence "i would set up a mat outside and me and alejandro would lie there for hours until my mamá would yell at us to come back inside"

you look over at him, just for a second and catch him smiling as he reminisces

"i like to look at the stars when i get overwhelmed. reminds me i how small i am in the universe" "thats a bit melancholic, dont you think? the idea that we're so much smaller than the universe. like we dont matter as much as we think" you say, "i dont think of it like that. its like the world is bigger than my problems, it continues and theres so much more than just my troubles." he replies, eyes fixated on the stars "well when you put it that way, it sounds pretty nice"

the next few minutes are spent with rudy teaching you some basic constellations like the big and small dipper and then moves onto the more complex ones like ursa minor, andromeda and orion.

each constellation he points out comes with a story, as great as they look you cant help but watch him as he tells you all about them. its something he loves so deeply, you can tell from the way the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he describes them to you, the look of amazement in his eyes even though he's seen the stars hundreds of times. you cant help but fall more for him with every word he says

"i wish we met earlier. before when i was younger you could see so much more than just ...this. i wish i could've shown it to you" his tone becomes slightly bittersweet.

you don't exactly know what to say, you just wrap an arm around his torso, you mutter a soft "i know" right before you press a kiss to his cheek

the next time you two go stargazing its when you go camping together, although sure its not just in your backyard its as close as you can get with just enough clarity in the sky to see everything rudy wanted to show you :]

taglist: @pygm4li0n

[lily-drake]

The Demon’s Queen

Chapter Eleven

First <> Previous

Marinette didn’t have a favorite trainer, she hated all of them.  But the one that she hated the least would have to be Hadid.  Don’t get her wrong, he was still as cruel and ruthless as the others here, but he was also far more patient and, for lack of a better word, kind than the others.  Though there was just something about his presence that always put her on edge.  She couldn’t quite place it, but when she walked into the room as saw Hadid just standing there, just his posture alone was enough to give her goosebumps.

“Find two weaknesses in your opponent.  Go after one, and when they think they know what weakness you are going for, strike the other.”

He had told her when she lay flat on her back, hand raised down to help her back onto her feet.  The contact was nice, it was a kindness she hadn’t felt in a long time, then it was gone, and she was flung across the mats.  

Gritting her teeth, she got back onto her feet, by herself, and got back into position.

“Your stance is good,”

Marinette smiled at that, she had been trying to get it right for weeks now.

“If you want to fall over and die a disgrace.”

The joy that was blooming in her chest died just as quickly as it came as she repositioned her footing.

She had finally been let outside for training only two days ago, and she nearly cried when she saw the sun for the first time in who knows how long.  It was cold, but she didn’t care, as the scent of the fresh mountain air filled her lungs instead of the stale musty air of the brick and mortar that lined the walls.  

Marinette hadn’t seen the boy in a little over a week, that is until he interrupted training that day, with his mother no less.  She honestly had no idea he had one, she would have thought that she was dead, and if he had killed her she wouldn’t have been too surprised.  But no, that was not the case and now his mother wanted her to have dinner with the two of them, she honestly wanted to die.

“Your defiance against your allies could lead to your demise.  Be careful of who you make your enemies.”

Was all Hadid said before she had the urge to duck and roll, and it was a good thing she had otherwise she probably would have been flat on her back as Hadid had moved to attack her.  There was an amused smirk on his face, but he didn’t say a word as he continued his swift movements of attack.

__________ Meals with the League were never anything special.  It often consisted of brown rice, beans, and sometimes there would be meat with a cup of water for nearly every single meal.  Damian often ate the same thing, never caring for other “grand dishes” that others of his station would indulge in.  But his mother was here, and Marinette would dine with them which meant that dinner tonight would be different.  There were many different curries, seasoned vegetable servings, a few different salad varieties and a few other smaller dishes that Damian had no care to think about.  His main concern was how this night was to play out, after all the only time his mother invited another to dine with them it was under special circumstances such as a new deal with many of their allies, a test of some sort, or to trick them to attending what will be the end of their lives.  There was always some sort of reason, a strategy, nothing was without a purpose.  So what was the purpose of this meeting, if he were to guess it would fall under the test category.

“Did you deliver the garbs Damian?”

His mother asked cooly as she approached him.

“Yes, I had a maid drop them off.”

Talia hummed, tracing a gentle finger down his face.

“You seem tired.  What has happened while I was away?”

Damian leaned into his mother’s rare gentle touch before it disappeared completely a few moments later.

“Father is searching for her.  I believed that my plan to remove her would work, but it seems that her mother did not believe it and called the Justice League.  My spies have reported that he has not found anything yet, but I know it is only a matter of time.”

Talia’s eyes seemed to spark to life at the mention of Father, even after all this time she still loved him deeply.  That or it was an obsession that he was unsure would ever leave her.

Before they could continue, the doors to the dining room opened to reveal Marinette in a dark form fitting dress that stretched all the way to her lower thigh that flowed gently around her legs.  The mandarin collar of the dress and the ¾ sleeves complimented her figure and would work in her favor if there was an attack from close range weaponry as he knew there were small pieces of micro technology sewn into the dress that would temporarily protect her.  If he remembered correctly, it should be made of material similar to her training garments.

Damian stared at her for a few moments, unsure of why the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end when he made eye contact with her.  He approached her almost cautiously, though he knew he had the upper hand even if she had somehow managed to sneak in something.  Damian honestly had no idea what to say, he had never been in a situation like this before, but he had observed others who had.  So without another word he offered his hand for her to take, and was actually surprised when she took it.  From her behavior in the past he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had slapped it away.  She never looked at him though, so the probability she was only doing this because his mother was watching was pretty high.

Talia watched both the girl and her son.  It was obvious that Marinette was not happy with her predicament, it was obvious that she had a strong dislike for her son especially.  Her eyes flicked down to the girl’s left leg, she had watched some of her other sessions with the trainers Damian provided her.  In a match with Ruta they had been using sworded canes and Ruta had gotten the curve around Marinette’s leg and pulled.  Studying the girl she could see the slight limp, though she hid it well especially as she let Damian lead her to her seat at the long table, a seat on his left where Talia would be sitting at his right.

“Hello Marinette.  I wish to discuss the time you have spent here so far.  You will not be punished for anything you say, so you may speak as freely as you wish.”

Marinette raised a brow, though she appreciated that they had cut right to the chaise instead of starting with pleasantries.

“I hate it here and I want to go back home.”

Marinette stated firmly, her back straight and her eyes a hard determination.

Talia made a small humming noise, leaning onto her closed fist as she stared at the girl in front of her.

“Unfortunately for you, that is not a decision I am able to make,”

The only tells of disappointment on her face were a small twitch in her brow and a slight dimness in her eyes.  Silence filled the space for a few moments, though Talia and Damian seemed unaffected by it as they placed food onto their plates. 

“What is happening in Paris?”

Marinette asked, finally breaking the tense silence that had filled the room.  

“Yes, I was wondering when you would ask.”

Talia replied almost dismissively as she dabbed her lips with a napkin.

“Your city is perfectly fine.  I’ve read the reports and it seems that because your magical terrorist no longer exists, only petty crimes line Paris’s streets.  Your parents and friends do not seem to be worried for your safety, they believe that you are partaking in an exchange program.  Of course emails in your name are being sent to them, and since we have access to your voice and face, facetimes and phone calls are easy to manipulate.”

Her voice was casual, her face an impassive stone wall.  Marinette couldn’t tell if she was lying or telling the truth, but she was not inclined to believe this woman.    Marinette watched the woman until she too made direct eye contact with her,

“I can see that you don’t believe me, but it is the truth.  The League of Assassins do not do things halfway.  I have read through your file Marinette. I know why you are here, and I agree with it.  The League could use someone like you, you have great tenacity, you have the mind of a great tactician, and from your training I’ve witnessed I can see the potential.  I know that you do not wish to be here, but the League can make you into something more than you ever thought you could be.”

“What if I do not wish to be like you?  What if I wished to live a normal life when Hawkmoth was defeated?”

Talia didn’t laugh, but the amused smirk on her lips might as well have been her version of the sound.

“You are the Grand Guardian of many magical creatures, lived with magic as a part of your being since you first began your teenage years, and finally you have been parading around your city as a hero for that same amount of time.  You will never be able to live a normal life, others will find out who you are and they will take you for far more nefarious purposes.  Here we offer you training for proper protection, a chance to continue to use your skills, and you are given the opportunity to have power that few will ever be able to hold.  I can see the fire in your eyes, I can see that you crave the opportunity to constantly prove yourself, to better yourself.  Nowhere else can offer you this, but we are.  When we are certain that you are fit, you will be given the opportunity to travel the world, to protect and save others from the darkness that oozes from the darkness, you will be a leader that seeks no praise, but will receive anyways.  It is wholly up to you whether or not you will accept this offer, but in order to escape here, you will either have to grow or die.”

With that, Talia finally began to eat her dinner.  Once she began, Damian followed, after all it is rude to start before his superior.  Marinette bit her lip in frustration.  On one side Talia was right.  She was the Grand Guardian, she also knew that it would be hard to give up being a hero after so many years.  But she could do it, the magic prevented others from knowing her identity, but…magic didn’t solve everything and there were other more powerful magic users around.  Her city was apparently safe, her family and friends weren’t in danger anymore, and nearly all of the Miraculous were here, the others hiding in her room.  She would need to find a way to get those back sooner than later, but if everything she said was true, which she doubted, then the only problem was that she needed to retrieve the jewels.  

“Please eat Marinette, it would be best for you to keep your strength up.”

Damian quietly said, the first he had said to her all evening.  It wasn’t strange per se as he wasn’t very social, but it was still a little off as he probably would have asked her how her training was going despite already knowing from the meetings he had with her trainers.  Giving him a side eye, slowly she began to dish food onto her plate and eat with them.  She hated to admit it, but this was the best food she had eaten in a long time.  Talia’s words continued to echo through her mind, and though she loathed to admit it, parts of what she said were right.  She would never forgive Damian for dragging her into this against her will, but maybe, maybe she could do something good here if they let her.  Just maybe. 

Next

Taglist:

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[dapper-shipping-forever]

The impatient proposal

1998 T.rigun Vash. T.rigun S.tampede Vash posted here x

The proposal simultaneous to the first. 1998 Vash does it slightly different, but with no less love to it. Gill is forever part of him.

The other proposal ! Reblogs always appreciated !

💜💜💜

Just on the outside of town the cliff hung above it, and the hike to the top of the cliff was actually pretty easy. Vash wouldn't have picked a more exhausting spot for this. He wouldn't be a gentleman if he tired her out like that.

Rocks crunch under their feet as they travel. After all, it wouldn't be romantic if Vash asked Gill to marry him while he's panting for a breath. Right, the box in his pocket is the real reminder that he is leading his girlfriend to the top of this mini mountain for a specific reason. 

The anxiety roiling in him has been there all day. Scratch that, all week. Double scratch, months. There's a lot of things to dissuade him. He's the humanoid typhoon, naming one reason. Every time she's with him could hurt her, naming another. He has gotten her hurt numerous times, naming yet another. She should say no, truthfully, he thinks. He wouldn't blame her if she decided to get away finally, stop chasing his storm and find someone, hm no he can't finish that thought; the pain of envisioning her with someone else hurts way more. But would it be what's right? 

His hand is squeezed by Gill's, clasped the entire hike. "Vash, my dear." She interrupts his thoughts. "What's got you distracted recently?" 

He jumps. "What? Me? Distracted? I've got the sharpest focus of anyone !" He laughs but it stops at her flat look; he sees the worry behind her eyes, knowing she sees he feels the need to wear a mask for her and that she dislikes that, and he feels bad. He drops the act, looking away with a sad look to him. "I'm just, I've never quite seen myself as deserving of, well, you, yknow." He says, afraid to meet her eyes.

"Awe, baby. That's what it's about?" She asks.

"Uh, sorta." He scratches his hair. Not completely, but mostly.

She stops walking, forcing him to stop abruptly as she swishes in front of him. She cups his face in her hand, brows upturned in concern. "What's brought this on?"

Hrs shrugs. "It's just a thought." He brings his hand to her's, holding it tenderly on his cheek. "I mean, fuck am I glad to be with you, trust me there's not a second where I'm not thinking about how much I love you. It's just, is this selfish? How much I love you? I know the trouble following me, but all I want is to keep you close by. Sometimes I worry I'm just sweeping you into my typhoon."

She dips her head, his face is directed at her but his eyes keep themselves planted to the floor and she gets her face in view. Shes gently smiling. "Have I at any point made some indication I'm not with you by my own choice?"

"Um, no." He says, eyes now unable to look away now that he caught her look.

"That's right, because I'm with you because I choose to be." She continues.

He steps forward, desperation in his eyes as he searches her's. "And if you could go back and decide not to love me?"

"Not an option. There ain't any universe where you're not my love." She answers without any hesitation there.

Vash trembles. "I've caused awful, terrible, horrible things."

"They weren't your fault." She is certain.

"I've gotten lots of people harmed." He says.

"You've saved many many more." She says.

"I'm selfish." He reasons.

"You're allowed to be." She reassures Vash.

"You think?" He breathes.

"I know." She affirms.

Vash breathes deeply, squeezing his eyes shut for a bit before looking back into her face. "Would you let me be selfish with you, more than I have been?"

She laughs a bit, not at him, of course. "Darling, I would frankly prefer it if you were." 

He takes her face, dwarfed in his large, rough hands. He pulls her forward and she openly follows as he drags her into a deep kiss. She keeps her hand on his cheek and the other finds his hip. He searches her eyes after it. "Say you want this; please say that you want forever too." 

She meets his depthless eyes without a hint of uncertainty. "We are forever."

Slowly, genuinely, he smiles again. "Thank you, Gillian." Vash means it.

She hums. "There's more." Not a question.

"Yeah, there is." He chews his cheek, but there's something impatient to him now, mixing with his many other feelings right now. His eyes flick behind her. This whole conversation has been right before the peak of this mountain. "Come with me." He grabs her hand and leads her quickly to the flat surface of the cliff top. 

He spins, now taking both of her hands while he walks backwards to guide her more while she laughs. "What's this?" She asks him.

He glances around, silently assessing this spot. But now he thinks maybe anywhere is the right spot. He just needs her there and it's good. "I have something to ask you." He meets her gaze.

"Then ask, love." She urges him.

He breathes in, breathes out. Maybe he is dangerous, maybe he has done wrong, and maybe he can't be forgiven, but she believes in him. That's what's important. She loves him. He loves her. They have love. Loving her is the only choice he wants to have. Being with her is his forever. "You are more precious to me than I can possibly say. Baby, you have been there for me in more ways than I can count, and probably more than I'm fully aware of. You're my biggest cheerleader, the person who's taught me to accept myself. I'm never going to thank you enough for that. My biggest goal now is to spend forever making you the happiest person anywhere." He gets to his knee, taking the box in his pocket out to present her with the ring he designed for nobody but her. "I'm yours, my soul belongs to you. And, I want to be official with this. I want you to be mine, tied to me forever." He wets his lip, looking into her wide, stunned eyes above him. "You're more than my partner, you're my soulmate who I'd seek out in every dimension. I love you. Gillian, would you please marry me?" He asks her.

She smiles, eyes wet with tears. She wordlessly leans closer, bending to settle her forehead on his, and he feels tears slip onto his face. "Yes, Vash, yes." She breathes. "I love you. I would love nothing more right now than to marry you."

He grins, wide and full of joy. He nuzzles her forehead. "You're," He stutters. "You're going to be my wife now."

She laughs, thick with her tears. "Yes, my husband."

He laughs too. "Well we gotta actually get married before that's my title."

She whines, pouting. "But I want to call you my husband right now."

He shakes his head. "Then I promise not to make you wait a lot longer than I already have for this. Can fiancé satisfy you just for a bit?" 

She grins. "Yeah, that sounds good too." She kisses him, and he eagerly reciprocates the gesture.

As they pull back to take a breath, he takes her hand in his and slips the ring onto her finger. It looks beautiful on her, just as he'd wanted. He kisses her hand, the ring pressing into his chapped lips. Hand held to his mouth, he starts laughing having no other outlet for the intense happiness filling him completely. He stands in a quick movement, scooping her into his arms and dangling her above the rocks as he spins around. "We're engaged !" He shouts, laughing.

She giggles, hugging him close. "We are !"

"You're my fiancé ! I'm your fiance !" He continues, just saying it increasing his euphoria.

"All extremely true." Gill's legs just kinda swish around as he wildly moves them around the cliff top. She gets it, a similar rush of joy is taking residence within her and she relishes in being in his grasp.

After a few minutes, he sets her back on her feet, steadying her. He hasn't stopped his laughter, and Gill's confused as her fiancé runs around her to the cliff's edge. Though she understands what he's doing as he cups his mouth and shouts to the small town below. "She said yes !"

She squeals. "Vash ! Too much !" She blushes, running forward and hugging his waist to drag him back. Distantly a single whoop is heard from someone in town. 

Vash just keeps laughing, spinning in her hold to hug her. "We gotta, we gotta tell the others now." He is riding a high that has no end. He can't wait to share this with their friends. For real, he can't. Scooping her into his grasp again, he slings her onto his shoulder and holds her there as he takes off into a sprint back away from the cliff and to town.

"Vash ! Hey, it's not that much of a hurry !" She yelps, yelling to him across her shoulder. But she is grinning too, chuckling at his unbridled enthusiasm to tell everyone that they're engaged now.

He just squeezes her hip, focused on keeping her steady while he makes use of his long strides and high stamina. "Trust me, I've got too much energy for walking !" He calls back.

Running in the town, speeding by the buildings and surprised residents gets them quickly to their hotel. Bursting in the door, Milly, Meryl, and Wolfwood are all surprised where they sit around a table chatting there.

"What the?" Meryl exclaims.

"Gill said yes !" Vash yells the second he's skidded to a stop inside the lobby.

Milly claps her hands together. "That's amazing !"

Wolfwood laughs. "Finally actually did it, eh?"

Gill tries to glance around to their team. "Yall knew?" 

Meryl scoffs, but her smile for her friends is wide. "Of course; he's been begging us for advice for months by now."

"Months? You've been trying to ask that long?" Gill asks Vash.

Vash blushes to the sky. "I might have taken a while to get it right. Plus getting the ring took a while too. I had to do this correctly, you know, baby." 

Gill chuckles, smiling to herself. "Silly boy." She lifts her hand with the ring to look at it.

"Was it just like you'd imagined?" Milly eagerly asked, leaning forward in her seat, eyes almost sparkling.

"It was better." Vash said dreamily. 

“What’d the blushing bride think, though?” Wolfwood chimes in. 

“It was amazing.” Gill says, almost to softly to be heard. “Um, Vash, my love, can you set me on the floor again to have this conversation?” She kicks her legs to emphasize that she currently can’t actually see any of them.

“Right ! Sorry, sorry.” he plops her on the ground, but right away just hugs her again with his arms wrapped around her torso, her back pressed securely along his chest as he grins with a bright smile.

She leans into this embrace gladly, continuing her thought. “I’ve thought about getting engaged to Vash since before we became a couple and about marrying him. But the actual engagement was more beautiful than I could’ve imagined; and I’m sure the wedding is going to be better as well.” She lovingly squeezes his forearm, Vash blushing hot on top of his happy expression.

Milly looks overjoyed. “Show us the ring ! Vash already let us see but I want to see it on your finger !”

Meryl sits forward, just as excited. “Yeah ! Let us see.”

Gill lifts her hand, and the girls squeal. They both lean forward to get a better look.

“It’s gorgeous !” Milly exclaims. 

“I’d say it definitely is.” Gill glances at it. 

The girls get out of their seats and Vash, semi pouting, releases her to let her girl friends swarm her in their hugs. 

“I’m happy for you ! You two are wonderful together.” Milly says, having both shorter women wrapped in her large arms.

“Thank you, milly.” Gill chuckles, squeezed.

When the hug loosens somewhat, the girls stand close. Meryl meets Gill’s eyes, expression softening. “I’m happy for you too. In all the time we’ve traveled together, I’ve never seen you brighter than when you’re together. Congratulations.”

Gill’s expression becomes gentle, thoughtful. Hearing Meryl happy for her means a lot; the girls have all been close for a long time. “Meryl, thank you.

Wolfwood slides to stand by Vash while the girls chatter. “You did good, needle noggin.” he side eyes him with a genuine smile.

Vash looks at him. “Thanks, Wolfwood. Now I just have to keep my vow.” To make her happy and protect her.

“You’re gonna.” He holds out a fist, and Vash touches it with his own. “Never doubted that.” The two men share a look.

Yeah, Vash is sure of it. With every thing he is, that vow is being kept. “I know.”

After a couple seconds, Wolfwood grins wider and surprises Vash by slinging his arm around his shoulder. “Alright, then, everybody !” He yells to the team. “We gotta celebrate ! Let’s hit the bars !”

“Gill never drinks.” Meryl points out.

“Eh, I think it’s alright. Let’s do it.” Gill says, shrugging. She can enjoy the celebration without booze too.

Wolfwood and Milly whoop, and Meryl shakes her head and sighs but follows them as they leave, Vash and Gill lingering in the lobby. Their eyes connect, and they smile for each other. Hands joining, they walk out into a loving forever, always close together.

[comfysocksfirst]

Machine Things - Part 1?

My father because he had a major stroke when I was very young I suspect he feels that he missed out on teaching me a small series of things on manhood that can only be taught when they come up. This thought doesn’t feel as pronounced now that I live a thousand miles away but there were moments growing up when I would feel that intense regret coming off of him. There’d be something wrong with the car and all he could communicate was the I needed to carry the tarp out to the car and then unfurl it underneath it so he could haltingly scoot under the machine. He’d grab the tools he needed and would place them near his head so his one good arm could easily find them. He’d learned from years earlier that his pointing to the toolbox and expecting me to divine which tool he wanted was a tremendously frustrating practice for us both. And so I would just watch him as I stood near the hood waiting for his signal to help slide him back from under the car. Then the car would be fixed and I did not know that there was something wrong with it nor what he did to fix it. One afternoon I was driving back home I have no memory of where I was coming from. A block away from home I pulled over because the van felt like it had a flat tire. So I pulled over to the side and sure enough there was a quickly deflating tire on the rear. I was a block from home. I thought to myself It’s so close I can just drive over there no problem and then deal with it later. My dad because he had accepted that things under the hood or under the chassis required to much precision for him to grunt out an explanation (he’d lost the ability to speak clearly) he began to overcompensate with things he could teach. He would walk alongside me as I mowed the lawn and most relevant to this he had me change a lot of tires whether they were flat or not. If he saw me pull in with a flat tire he would have lost his shit and he would have had me changing tires every day that week. So I thought about this as I stood next to my van. I grabbed the spare from the back and went ahead changing the tire despite knowing that the tire I was taking out was only quickly deflating but the spare was in fact completely deflated. He would have something to say about my driving in with a flat but I could provide proof that I knew how to change a tire! ++++++ A few years later I’d be in Minnesota working a part-time job at a Target just outside Minneapolis. I was on the register texting the woman I was secretly seeing who happened to be in a long term relationship with one of my co-workers. She had just told me that if I met her at Dairy Queen for my lunch break then she would have for me a banana split and a *treat* I could enjoy while I ate that banana split. I was audibly frustrated when I saw a flat tire on my Ford Explorer in the giant Target parking lot. Let me say something quickly about how massive these department store parking lots are--especially in the suburbs. I hate them!!! It’s ridiculous! This is likely hyperbole but if you were to lay people down on the lot trying to cover it; lay them down tightly like in a hot dog wiener package, I’d say it would take six hundred people to completely cover the lot. I have this flat tire waiting for me at the start of my lunch break.

My father gave me the Explorer at some point in the month when I told my parents I had decided to move to Minnesota and my actual moving there. Although thinking on it now maybe he’d given it to me earlier because I kind of remember driving it to work or more accurately getting locked out of it in my work parking lot. I had been in an accident in the van and I don’t remember how drive-able it was after that. Either way I had been given the Explorer and I have no memory of that conversation.

I never changed the tire of a Ford Explorer. But it’s exactly the same. I had the SUV up, the flat taken out but was having major difficulty securing the spare tire my dad had left for me in the trunk onto the wheel hub assembly. I reasoned that I was in too much of a hurry and needed to regather myself to finish the task. So I took a deep breath and failed again to put the spare tire on.

Back inside the Target I went looking for some assistance. I found another cashier just getting ready to end her lunch break. Hey can you help me with getting my tire back on my car please? It’s gonna be like 2 minutes tops. Just need another set of hands to help force it in there.

Sure, she says. Our supervisor upon seeing me stop my coworker from clocking back in. Where are you two going?

Well, I say. I have a flat and I need help for a minute to get it back on. It should be real quick.

No. You can work on that after your shift is over we need you both to come back from your breaks now.

I’m having trouble changing the tire now in broad daylight. It’s not the sort of thing that’s going to get easier to work on at the end of my day once it’s nighttime and there’s no one around. I’ll be back as soon as it’s done but I won’t be back until it’s done. Great. See you in a minute. And I’ll send her right back.

My co-worker helps me with the tire but it’s still not wanting to fit. A white man about my dad’s age walks up to us as it’s quite obvious we’re struggling. He suggests that I try the spare that came equipped with the car that the one my dad left me that I’ve been trying to fit is the wrong size and will never fit. I had no idea it came with a spare and don’t know if it still has the spare. It’s just some random white guy annoying me after I’ve been working on the flat for now a little over a half hour. Oh I think I got really drunk and maybe threw that away in some drunken stupor I lie to him to get him to move on his way and leave me to solve it myself.

That would be pretty stupid. I hope you didn’t do that because that tire would be really helpful now. He tells me and stays with me. He bends over a little and looks under the SUV. There it is, he says. Also, he tells me that the area I’ve chosen to place the car jack is unsafe and I should lower the car. Grab the manual, he says. Let’s figure out how the tire out from under there.

It looks like you’re going to be okay, my co-worker tells me. I have to get back to work.

Yeah of course thank you for all the help. Let them know I’ll be in in a minute.

The man stays with me as we find the parts to remove the spare hidden underneath and next to the passenger seats. He stays with me until the tire is completely replaced. I thank him and we shake hands. I rush off back to work. And I quickly forget most of what he looked like so I don’t know if I ever see him again. But it’s my hope that he’d come back to that Target every now and then recognize me and remember his good deed. How he made time for a stranger.

[totallyuseless-ugh]

You rocked my Heart

Chapter Three: Stupidly Lucky Coincidence

CJ had a goal, so now it was time to find a way for them to reach it.

Since the publication of the article, they began staying inside the school building for a little longer. They didn’t jump from their chair at the ringing of the bell to run outside. Instead, they began to take their time at the end of class and strolled down the hallway without a rush. Their friends were confused at first why CJ ended up arriving at the usual hangout spot even later than Egeith, but nobody seriously questioned it. Not even his girlfriend Via bothered to squeeze an answer out of them.

The change of habit didn’t really help CJ though. They learned no new information, let alone seeing Darnell since the interview. At first, there was the idea to spend an entire lunch break going from room to room in an attempt to find him. But it sounded a bit stalker-ish to them, so that was thrown out the window as quickly as it had come to mind.

The problem ended up being solved on its own though, just through sheer luck. Or rather lack thereof for CJ.

*

Another school day had finally come to an end for the last students that stayed for a club. CJ was one of these people, leaving the school gym after showering and changing back into their normal clothes. Rika had an important appointment, so she had left school earlier, meaning all her friends had to get home on their own. Since they lived rather close to the school grounds already had CJ decided to take their bike to school.

On their way to the bike stands were they starting to question their decision on showering before getting home, whether they would just take the risk of potentially sweating through their clothes a second time. That problem, however, was completely forgotten about just a minute later. As they were about to take off the bike lock saw CJ a far bigger problem, both of the tires were completely flat.

Meanwhile Darnell came out of another meeting with his club, having to wait by himself for his mother to pick him up. His thoughts were still revolving around the things discussed earlier. But his attention soon latched onto the sudden yell from across the school grounds, “MOTHERFUCKER!-” followed by a crashing sound of metal.

It sure was far from being a very inviting situation, but Darnell's curiosity outweighed his fear of getting into any trouble in that moment. Thus, he went out to investigate and into the direction he previously heard the chaos sounding from.

To his surprise, he found CJ sitting on the ground by what looked to be their bicycle, head buried in their hands as they groaned and grumbled quietly.

"Having trouble coming home?" He asked with a quiet chuckle, though Darnell made sure to keep his distance from CJ. While they didn't seem to be like any of the jocks, chasing and beating up anyone who just dares to look at them wrong, it was best to stay safe. Today was really not the day he wanted to piss off someone from the boxing club.

CJ peeked through their fingers at Darnell and their eyes widened almost in an instant. At first, Darnell thought it was time to run as they stood up from the ground so quickly. But CJ just quickly brushed the dirt off their clothes and cleared their throat. "Ah- I mean, sorta?.. not exactly easy to get home on two flat tires," they pointed back at their bike for Darnell to look at the damage.

"Damn.." he muttered to himself as he took notice of the situation CJ was in now. "And now you got no way home?"

"Nah, but the walk is gonna take a while. Probably like, I dunno.. half an hour," CJ shrugged it off a little. They didn't exactly have a choice, they'd have to push their bike all the way home and then fix the tires in case Rika couldn't take the group home tomorrow either.

Darnell however didn't like the thought of them having to go home by themself like this, so he tried to come up with a solution. "I mean, I could ask my mom if she could bring you home? Just gonna put your bike in the trunk and then drop you off."

The offer certainly was tempting to CJ. Anything was better than a 30 minute walk with a broken bike after doing sports. "You sure it wouldn't be a problem to her? I'm a complete stranger to her after all."

"Don't worry about that, she won't mind," Darnell reassured them with a smile. He slowly approached CJ, holding his hand out as an offer to take their bag, though it took them a moment to understand what he wanted from them.

While Darnell then waited nearby with the sports bag slung over his shoulder was CJ ducked down to finally get the bike lock to open. Once the chain was off, they stood back up but didn't further move for another moment. It certainly confused Darnell. Never before had he seen a person practically freeze and load information like a computer. "You're.. Darnell, right? The guy who made this article a while back?" CJ asked him while almost entirely avoiding eye contact. Darnell wasn't sure whether they were shy or embarrassed, or if this was just a thing they always did.

"Yep, I'm the one," he responded with a warm grin, though he couldn't really tell if this was appropriate in this moment. It was kind of hard for him to read CJ. "I figured you would remember me, since I interviewed you personally."

A small smile cracked out of CJ's mouth as they chuckled a little. "Actually, yeah. Though to be honest, I almost forgot about the whole thing until that article came out. My memory ain't the best at times." Darnell relaxed a little upon hearing this. He really didn't want to risk getting on their bad side, partially out of fear, but mostly actually because he didn't want to cause harm to a student he reported about.

"Well, I hope the things I wrote were to your liking."

"To my liking?" CJ couldn't help themself but softly burst out laughing for a moment. "All of us were fuckin' hyped to read this! Egeith showed it to all of us like it was the greatest thing in existence!"

Darnell was speechless for a moment. He was hoping for CJ and their friends to be satisfied with the article, but he didn't expect them all to be ecstatic about it. This was almost flattering to hear.

CJ finally picked up their bike to carry it with them over to the parking lot. Their laughter had died down already as they once more tried to think of how to phrase the things they wanted to say next. "Y'know.. I also appreciated that you called me 'they' the whole time."

"Of course I did," Darnell responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You go by they, so I talk about you that way."

"You may say that, but not a lot of people think the same. So many know, yet they all don't care." CJ sighed as they eventually set the bike back on the ground where they would be waiting with Darnell for his mother. He too put down the bag to get the weight off his shoulder and looked over to the other.

"Let them be stupid then. It's not your fault these idiots don't care about pronouns."

Once more had Darnell managed to get a smile on CJ's face, changing their expression from upset to content with ease. "I guess so," they shrugged a little and watched a car pulling up into the parking lot just a moment after.

The engine switched off and a woman got out of the driver seat. Her dark skin, curly hair, and most definitely the bright blue eyes made it obvious that she had to be Darnell's mother. Karen smiled at her son and opened her arms as he walked over for a hug. "Hey Nelly, how are you?"

"Doing fine, as always." His mother was about to say something, but Darnell was quick enough to speak up again first. "Would it be possible for us to drive CJ home? Their bike is broken and it would be kind of a long walk otherwise." He pointed over at CJ who waved a little as Karen looked at them and their bike for a moment.

"Not a problem, hun. But a proper introduction would be nice first," She nodded over at the stranger as she let go of Darnell again to open the trunk of the car. CJ was slightly overwhelmed for a second. Things were going just a tad too fast, so they needed some time before they carried the bike over to the car.

Both of them loaded the bike into the back. Once the door was shut again extended CJ their hand towards Karen, "CJ Ashton, junior year student." She smiled and waved her hand to dismiss the handshake, chuckling softly over the sweet gesture. "Karen Hodge. Nice to meet a new friend of Darnell."

CJ wouldn't exactly consider them and Darnell to be friends yet, they barely knew each other. But for the sake of getting a car ride home, they just nodded and smiled at Karen in return. "Also nice to finally meet his mother." There was not a lot of time left for introductions though, as Darnell had already dropped both their bags into the back of the car before sitting in the backseat.

In order for them to give proper directions was CJ sitting in the front passenger seat. During the whole car ride was the radio turned off so Karen could focus on driving. While following down a longer road though spoke she up again, turning her head briefly towards Darnell's 'friend'. "You said your name was Ashton, right, hun?"

"Uh, yeah. CJ Ashton," they repeated themself, wondering why Karen asked them this question.

"So your dad is Cristoff Ashton? Tall guy, dark hair, works at the bank?"

Despite him sitting right behind them could Darnell tell that something was off. Their hesitant response almost sounded to him like they spoke through gritted teeth. "Mhm, that's him. My father." Darnell wasn't sure whether Karen was oblivious to their tone or chose to ignore it, as she just kept on smiling. "What a nice coincidence." She didn't care to elaborate, and CJ seemed to be just fine with that.

Luckily, the ride was soon over as Karen parked the car in front of CJ's house. They took a look at the empty driveway before getting out of the car. "Thanks a lot for the ride," they told both Darnell and his mother. He promptly got out of the car as well to hand over CJ their bag and help get the bike back out of the trunk.

The two stood there for a moment, smiling at each other as neither of them knew what to do or say. "I.. suppose I'll see you tomorrow then," Darnell eventually spoke up to which CJ happily nodded. "Lunch break, same place as last time."

*

From that day on, it became a new habit for CJ to spend break with Darnell. Both would usually meet by the same spot CJ hung out with their friends already and just sit together talking. Though over time, this eventually changed to them just waiting for each other there and then walk around the school grounds as they chatted, just the two of them.

Halfway through the semester began the weather to get colder. But CJ refused to walk outside with a scarf around their neck, despite the low temperatures. Thus the two settled on the compromise that from now on, they would spend lunch break inside the school. Not in the cafeteria though, that place was far too loud and messy for them to just talk in peace. Instead, they sat in the hallways on a window sill together.

Another lunch break was coming to an end just as the two were in the middle of a conversation. "I'm telling you, this was probably the stupidest thing I saw him do! He-" The school bell interrupted CJ right then, getting them to groan loudly out of frustration. "Oh come on!"

Darnell couldn't help but laugh over how dramatic they always acted at the end of lunch. "I suppose you have to finish that story some other time then," he shrugged and got off the window sill to grab his book for class. But CJ was having none of it.

"Is it really too much to ask for me to talk with you in peace? Man!"

"You're not getting picked up after school today, right?" Darnell asked, getting a confused look along with a slow nod in return. "Why don't we just hang out after school then? My sisters got tutor lessons today, so they wouldn't bother us when we're in my room."

The idea was so obvious and simple, it almost upset CJ all over again that they hadn't thought of this sooner. "Hell yeah! Let's do that!"

With that decision made, CJ and Darnell parted ways for their final class and their clubs. Both of them were already excited to spend more time together afterwards. Any outsider would've wondered why the two made such a big deal about such a casual thing. That's all it was after all, just two friends spending time after school.

For Darnell, this was the first time in years he would be taking a friend home after school. CJ wasn't his only friend of course, but since Tyrone had found out that Pico was gay, he had banned his son from seeing the redhead. And since Nene was a girl, the two couldn't hang out normally at either of their homes. The door always had to stay open, if they were allowed the luxury of being anywhere other than the living room at all.

Meanwhile CJ also had friends of their own whom they regularly spent time with. However, they rarely could go out of the house for long times. Everyone lived at least two blocks away, and all of them despised Cristoff, meaning they wouldn't come over to CJ's place for longer than an hour when their father was home. So even though CJ wouldn't be able to hang out often at Darnell's house for a long time, this rare treat was a highlight for them.

For the two, this was not an everyday occurrence. Something that sounded completely normal to any other student meant a lot to CJ and Darnell.

[yeniasworld]

God, you’ve given me everything,

But I’m begging, strip me back, return me to nothing.

To the girl who just walked the streets, invisible, free,

Watching couples, families, the homeless tribes surviving,

Their stories blending into the everyday hum.

I wander through East London, seeking,

Eyes tracing lives that seem so ordinary,

While I’m tangled in this thread of destiny,

Dragging my painted soul through charity apps and Wi-Fi spots,

Trying to stitch together something that feels like home.

Dressed in chaos—painted skins, scavenged art—

I look mad, but really, I’m just searching for a version of me

That feels real, that feels normal.

Yet the Universe calls me “Chosen,”

And I laugh through tears, because chosen for what?

This life feels heavy, like a burden that wasn’t mine to carry.

Every step is a battlefield, every breath, a test.

I paint my flat in wild colors, as if to throw my pain on the walls,

To see it reflected outside of me, to feel lighter,

But even now, the weight won’t lift.

So I heal, bit by bit, and I wait.

For the next chapter, the next blessing,

The fame the tarot cards say is written in my stars—

Or maybe, just maybe, for normalcy to return,

To finally walk those streets without the world whispering,

“You’re special.”

But deep down, I know what’s coming.

I’ve felt it in my bones, the way the earth shifts beneath me.

They say we are the 144,000 chosen,

But who asked for this?

The human in me is terrified, hoping it’s all fiction,

A fever dream, a myth to comfort those in pain.

But the signs are clear, and I’ve seen too much,

Lived too much, to deny it now.

So I stand on the edge of something great,

Terrified and unready, yet here I am.

And then there’s this feeling,

This strange echo that whispers in my mind—

Maybe I’m the Tony Stark of this universe,

Iron Man, with a heart of metal and genius too raw,

But with art as my weapon, creativity as my armor.

Not just fiction, not just fantasy,

But something greater, something real.

Only time will tell if Yeni’s world is ready for that.

But oh, God, if I could be wrong—

If this whole journey is just a test, a feverish tale,

Then let me be wrong.

Let me wake up in a life where fame is distant,

Where my spirit isn’t stretched to fit the stars.

Let the tarots, the predictions,

Be nothing more than stories in the wind.

I don’t want to be the chosen one,

I don’t want to be the strong one,

I want to be normal.

The stars have given me this light,

But light burns, and I am tired of glowing.

Send me back, behind the screen,

Let me crunch numbers, live small, unnoticed,

Because being this free, this healed,

Feels too vast for one soul to bear.

The me that dreamed from West Ham

Never wanted to escape the matrix this way.

It’s too much for my soul to carry,

This knowledge, this power, this path.

But I know—deep down I know,

I’ve seen the future in glimpses,

And I’m scared of what I could become,

Scared of a life where I no longer belong to myself,

Where eyes follow my every move,

Where creation has no limits,

And even the universe watches in awe.

So I cry out, knowing this transformation is almost complete,

Begging for normal, but bracing for more.

If I’m meant to walk this path,

Then I will, with paint-streaked skin and a heart too full.

But let me say this—

If this is all just a fevered fantasy,

If all of this is false,

Then let this be my goodbye to the old me,

And let the new self rise, fierce, free,

Ready for whatever comes next.

Because no matter what,

I’ll survive, I’ll thrive,

Even if it’s against my own will.

And if this is my path,

Then God, Universe, let it unfold,

But let me find peace within it.

For now, I sign off,

One step closer to crossing over,

Into the world you’ve built for me.

And when I arrive, I’ll look back and laugh,

Because the fear will seem so small,

And the journey will make sense.

But for now,

I just want to be me.

Is that too much to ask?

[literaturewithlove]

Her Ballerina Flats

I sip my steaming hot coffee, as I do every day, waiting for something life-changing to happen to me. But of course, nothing really will. I will wake up as usual, make my bland cup of coffee, lie on my couch, and stare blankly at the frame-covered walls. Frames full of pictures of a beautiful woman. Oh, how I miss my wife; I miss her ways of turning a dull moment into a favorite and finding a way to make every day an adventure. I think of taking down her pictures but never find the courage to do so. They haunt me every morning and evening with thoughts of the possibility of my life still carrying meaning, carrying a powerful spark like it used to, back when Isobel, my wife, was alive. Today would mark our eleventh anniversary, so I found the strength to get on my feet and head to my dresser. I put on a beige colored button-up, smoothing it out with my hands, black trousers, and a pair of white sneakers. On my way out, I look in the mirror, scanning the reflection staring back at me: tired eyes, dry lips, unpleasantly messy hair, and just a man who looks twice his age. “What has happened to me?” I whisper. Nonetheless, I picked up my keys with an exasperated sigh and made my way outside my apartment. 

 The train is quite empty today, I guess no one likes going out on a Monday. I take a seat and find a newspaper laid wide open to my left. I picked it up and read it, attempting to cure my boredom.  

While I read the headline, I find myself staring up at a pair of familiar light brown eyes, who suddenly look right back at me. I startle in complete disbelief, “Isobel?” The train door opens, and the woman hurries out. “Wait!” I yell after her. I stand up and make my way out, following her hurried footsteps. Her pair of cherry red ballerina flats catch my eye, as they’re the only trace of color in her whole outfit (not including the black blouse and pants she seems to be wearing). Isobel had the same ones. I look back up again, and in a blink, they vanish. I lost her in the crowd of people in the city. I scan the sidewalk in a panic, “Where have you gone?” I think to myself, “It can’t be her. That’s impossible.” I ran in the direction I remember her walking in, desperately looking everywhere. I walk down the sidewalk, to the left, and spot her ballerina flats. “Wait!” I ran and attempted to grab her. She vanishes in thin air, like the rest of the people around her. My chest suddenly feels heavy, and it feels hard to breathe. All kinds of absurd possibilities swarm my head. “Isobel!” 

 

I gasped.  

 

“He’s back.” I hear a strange voice. Bright lights are covering my eyes, I put my hands to my side, lifting myself, and now sitting straight. I looked around the room and noticed a sign that diverted my attention. Abrahams Mental Hospital