#i love him endlessly but i need to put myself first but i can’t abandon him:(

[songtwo]

idk i think my bf might be developing a drinking problem and i just don’t know what to do…..

[reinvent-and-believe]

48 from dialogue prompts + 50 from wordless i-love-yous for geraskier?

Dialogue Prompt 48: “You make me want things I can’t have.” Wordless I-love-you 50: buying them a special treat when you go out shopping

--

It catches Geralt’s eye while he haggles over an outrageously priced jar of alchemy paste with a none-too-impressed herbalist on the outskirts of Novigrad, a buxom widow with thick-braided auburn hair by the name of Irmina.

“This for sale too?” He picks up the brooch from the countertop where it rests in a beam of golden light streaming through a dingy window. He examines it. It’s simple enough metalwork, a brass oval with a scalloped edge, but inlaid in its face is a single pressed yellow flower framed by tiny white blooms encased in resin.

The herbalist’s dour demeanour brightens immediately. “It is indeed!” she answers, her brown eyes shining in a plump, suddenly pleasant face. “Made it myself just last week. It’s something of a hobby of mine, making pretty knick-knacks from the flowers we can’t sell. Got plenty more like this if you’d like to peruse ‘em, master witcher! Forget-me-nots and arenaria, hellebore, violets, any flower you might like.”

A buttercup, he realizes belatedly. That’s the yellow flower in the center.

“No.” He sees Irmina’s brow furrow in offense, so he hastens to appease her. “No need, I’ll take this one. I...I’m partial to buttercups.”

Her freckled face breaks into a sly, knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I’m sure someone is partial to buttercups.” She winks, waving away his stammered attempts at an answer. “Never you mind, I know a man besotted when I see one, and it seems a witcher’s not so different. Tell you what. Fifty crowns for the paste and I’ll throw the brooch in for only ten.”

-

Leaving the herbalist’s shop with an overpriced paste, a lighter purse, and a useless trinket, Geralt curses himself for a fool.

He’s not sure why he bought it.

He knows buttercups are Jaskier’s favorite, of course. “None but the noblest of flowers for my sobriquet!” Jaskier had squawked indignantly when Geralt once made the grave mistake of referring to the pesky things as weeds after he’d stopped Roach from chomping on a patch of the bright, poisonous blooms.

They are weeds, buttercups. They serve no function. They can’t be used in any of the potions, decoctions, or oils Geralt brews, nor do they have any particularly helpful curative properties for humans.

“As ever, my dear witcher, you have no sense of poetry,” Jaskier had sighed in a most put-upon voice when told as much. “Their function is they’re pretty. Their function is to enrich our lives through the beauty of the natural world.” He’d looked to the sky, tip of his tongue between his teeth showing through his frown as was his custom when puzzling through the right way to turn a phrase. “From a strictly utilitarian perspective, perhaps the buttercup has less value than, say, moleyarrow, or verbena, or chamomile, even. Some plants provide nutritional or medicinal or alchemical qualities of various sorts. But some exist to make life worth living! To transform the banal into the sublime.” He’d plucked a buttercup from the roadside, twirling it between his long fingers. “It’s graceful and balanced, effortlessly beautiful. It’s vibrant, bright like...like sunlight, on a summer afternoon! And when you see it growing alongside the various and sundry flora, it fills you with the loveliest burst of warmth, like a lover’s smile.”

“So...it’s a pretty weed.”

“You’re incorrigible, witcher, that’s what you are.” Jaskier had huffed dramatically before tucking the buttercup behind Geralt’s ear, his face alight with a delighted grin.

Like sunlight on a summer afternoon.

-

The Kingfisher Inn is crowded when Geralt arrives. He goes to the bar, orders an ale from Olivier, and leans against the counter to take a look at the stage.

Jaskier loves playing the Kingfisher. In many of the inns he plays across the Continent, he’s relegated to a corner to try to sing over the clang of dinner, his only option to win the common folk over a raucous drinking song or a filthy ditty. And while the bard doesn’t shy away from such vulgarities, the patrons of the Kingfisher tend to be of a more artistically inclined ilk, responding with appropriate gusto to the virtuosic art songs that he rarely performs outside of competitions or Oxenfurt.

Or so he’d explained to Geralt when he’d suggested they meet up at the inn.

Jaskier sits atop a tall stool on a rather large stage framed by crimson curtains, his sky-blue doublet a vivid contrast. The audience, enraptured, listens to his ballad, a melancholy tale of a fair maiden who’s violently killed before she can profess her love to a farmhand in her village, a beautiful, strong, kind man whose hair shines like a blaze of pale fire in the sunlight. Her love for him tethers her to this world, and her spirit—bitter, weary, and endlessly yearning—calls the men working in the fields to join her dance at midday, when the sun is in its zenith, hoping against hope for the chance to finally confess to her beloved.

In the end, the brave, noble farmhand sacrifices himself, hoping to stop the spirit’s killings by listening to her song and joining her as she beckons. And as they are reunited, as she finally kisses the lips she’s longed for in a blinding blaze of sunlight, they pass on together, their spirits becoming one.

It’s a contract Geralt worked a few years ago, a noonwraith outside Oreton—or at least something close. As ever, Jaskier has taken artistic liberties, romanticized the actual events (“Sometimes, in our pursuit of Truth, we must sacrifice the facts,” Jaskier loftily explained on more than one occasion. He seemed quite taken with the profundity he seemed to find in the statement. Geralt called it pretentious once and Jaskier hurled a chunk of bread at his head). Once it might have bothered Geralt, but he’s grown accustomed to Jaskier’s rather malleable relationship with veracity in his ballads. There’s no denying the impact of his storytelling: when Geralt glances around the inn, he sees several patrons discreetly dabbing at their eyes.

It’d been an ugly case, leaving him feeling empty, drained. Noonwraiths haunt his thoughts far longer than most the monsters he dispatches. They’re victims of circumstance more than anything, young women who’ve been transformed into bloodthirsty, violent spirits through no fault of their own, through the violence inflicted upon them. Nearly forty men had fallen prey to her before the farmhand distracted her with his kiss—though Geralt would hesitate to classify his grotesque, gruesome sacrifice as such—so the witcher had a chance to strike her down with silver. Jaskier has spun the miserable tale into something beautiful, moving, something that clearly resonates with his captivated audience, that speaks to a greater force at work than the chaotic, banal evils the witcher sees every day, and Geralt thinks he understands, for a moment, what the bard had told him of Truth and facts.

(Geralt doesn’t know what greater Truth is served by changing the beloved farmhand’s hair from the dull brown it really was to “a blaze of pale fire,” but then, Geralt’s not a poet.)

The final notes hang in the air, all eyes fixed on Jaskier for a rapt, breathless moment before the room bursts into wild applause. Jaskier stands and bows deeply, once, twice, a third time, surveying the room as he offers his thanks. When his gaze catches Geralt at the bar, his expression of showman’s grace vanishes, a flash of something that looks almost alarmed for a split second before it’s replaced by a small, gentle smile.

Geralt nods and raises his mug toward the stage in cheers, draining the remainder. Jaskier is quickly swept into the swarm of captivated fans, accepting their praises with a gracious, if distracted, smile.

The witcher turns back to the barkeep to order himself another ale along with a glass of wine.

“Geralt!” Jaskier swerves to avoid a near-collision with a frenzied barmaid on his way to join his companion at the bar. He grabs the wine glass with a groan of appreciation, taking a swig before asking, “Is this for me? Gods, but you’re a marvel, darling, I thank you.” He takes another sip and sends a disarming, roguish wink to a pair of girls staring at him and giggling to each other. “I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive, but it wouldn’t have mattered, I suppose, they only had one room to let when I checked in and it hasn’t cleared out since. You’ll share mine, of course, but I’ve been here a week so, you know, best brace yourself, I’ve quite made the place my own.”

Geralt snorts. He’s stayed in enough rooms that Jaskier has made his own over the past decade to predict with some certainty what mess he’ll soon venture into.

(Doublets draped over furniture after they’ve been discarded; crumpled sheets of paper tossed near, never in the fireplace; a few near-empty bottles of wine; a shirt hung to dry over the modesty screen between the sleeping and bathing areas; bottles of a dozen oils and perfumes and soaps scattered haphazard near the tub; an unmade bed that may well contain an abandoned undergarment or forgotten stocking left by some well-satisfied guest.)

“Have you eaten? Shall we? I’m starved, felt jittery all afternoon and didn’t eat a damned thing which was all well and good until I got onstage and suddenly wished for a fainting couch. Or we could take your things up to the room first, of course. Oh! We could have them bring our dinner up to us, it’s awfully crowded down here tonight and I’m not sure I’m up to socializing all evening, to be honest, I’ve been dreadfully out of sorts, did you notice, Geralt, that I’ve…”

Jaskier continues his ramblings, and the witcher can’t help a twinge of worry for his friend. It’s not unheard of for Jaskier to be in a heightened state over a particularly important performance, but usually afterwards the nerves dissipate and he seems more himself. Not to mention, why would playing in an inn prompt such anxieties? Even if the Kingfisher clientele trends toward the more refined than the country folk he often plays for, it’s still rather a low-stakes environment to trigger such stress.

“New song?” he asks casually. Jaskier always beams when he notices such things, when he makes an effort to ask about his music.

Instead, Jaskier blushes, looking away with an expression that almost seems guilty. “Ah, yes, well, I wasn’t certain when you’d be arriving, of course, I thought I might try out something different, a sort of test audience, as it were, to feel out the piece before I use it for anything important.” The look he’s fixed on Geralt seems almost wary. “Did you...like the song?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not quite how it happened,” he grumbles, out of habit more than anything.

A smile, genuine and rueful, breaks out on Jaskier’s face. “Gods, I’ve missed you, my friend,” he says, shaking his head and looking away quickly.

“Hmm.” He reaches quickly into the coin pouch at his side, thrusting the trinket from the herbalist into Jaskier’s hand with a brusque, “Here.”

“Whatever have we got…” He cuts off as opens his palm. “Oh.”

There have been so few times over the years that Geralt has seen Jaskier speechless that he begins to worry he’s offended him. He turns the brooch over in his hands, once, twice, his thumb swiping gently over its smooth enamel face. He doesn’t look up.

Even in the crowded room, Geralt can smell the shift in his demeanor, the muted sickly-sweet anxious smell becoming something sharp, metallic, pained, like he’s been stabbed. “You’re upset.”

“I...no.” Jaskier shoves the brooch into his trouser pocket, a tense smile on his face, not at all reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Geralt, it’s lovely. Shall we take your bags to the room now?”

“I didn’t...I didn’t get it to upset you.”

Jaskier laughs, a broken thing, and Geralt grows even more alarmed. “You didn’t, it isn’t that, sometimes I want things I can’t have is all.” He grabs the saddlebag sitting at Geralt’s feet, not meeting his eyes as he rushes past him up the stairs to the last bedroom in the hall.

Geralt follows after a moment, giving his companion a respectful distance. There’s a tightness in his shoulders, a knot in his gut that only grows as he watches Jaskier’s hand tremble on the key as he unlocks the door.

It was a stupid idea. He knew it was stupid when he bought it, yet he bought it anyway, somehow ruined everything anyway.

“Here we are.” Jaskier’s voice is filled with a forced cheer as he sets the bag down, hand never leaving the doorknob. “I’ll go fetch us some supper. Or, actually, you know, now that I think of it, I’ve a few errands to run before it gets too late, meant to do it earlier but you know how it goes, lost track of time…”

“Jaskier.” Geralt moves toward him but stops himself, helpless. “Please. I’m sorry I upset you.”

Jaskier stands in the doorway for another moment. He takes a deep breath, closes the door, and walks slowly to the writing desk in the corner. He pulls the chair out, moving the doublet strewn across it before sitting. He doesn’t look at Geralt.

“You didn’t.” Every word is calculated, deliberate. “What kind of ungrateful wretch gets upset over...over an exceptionally thoughtful gift from a friend after a time apart?”

Geralt sits on the edge of the bed. His elbows rest on his knees, fingers locking together as he stares at the floor. “You’re not a wretch. The fault is mine.”

“Dammit, Geralt, there isn’t fault, I only—why did you bring me a gift?”

Geralt frowns. “I’ve bought you things before,” he says slowly.

“Things, yes!” Jaskier vaults from the chair, pacing listlessly about the room, no longer trying to mask his inexplicable distress. “Lute strings when I broke a string and I was low on coin. The lute is my livelihood, it made financial sense for you to replace the string so I could pull my own weight, help you when we pass through several towns in a row with no contracts. Boots when you noticed the hole in the heel of my old pair, because I slow you down limping about in footwear that’s falling apart. Room and board, sometimes, because you know I’m good for it, I’ll cover you the next time.” He’s stopped pacing, stares silent into the fireplace.

“Wasn’t keeping a tab.” Geralt’s voice is quiet. “You needed strings and boots and food and a room.”

Jaskier doesn’t turn to face him, but Geralt sees his hand slip into his pocket, pull out the brooch. His head bends, studying it.

He’s not offended or annoyed or angered by the gift. He’s hurt. But why?

Except...

Jaskier looked guilty when Geralt brought up the song. Like he’d been caught red-handed. Did you like it? he’d asked. Incredulous.

The noonwraith singing her song in hopes that her beloved hears her confession. That he’ll hear her song of longing and come to her.

Hair like a blaze of pale fire, not dull brown.

Sometimes I want things I can’t have.

“Geralt?”

The witcher snaps back to attention, eyes fixed on Jaskier, finally facing him.

“Why did you get it for me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “It’s...pretty,” he starts lamely. “I thought you might wear it when you play. You wear gaudy things.”

Jaskier snorts, a small, crooked grin on his lips.

“It made me think of you,” he confesses quietly, his eyes tracing the wood grain of the floor. “Sometimes...things don’t have to have a function. It was a buttercup and it was pretty and it…made me think of you.”

When Geralt dares to raise his eyes, Jaskier’s staring at him, brows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. After a moment, he walks toward the witcher, sitting carefully beside him on the bed. He reaches his hand towards Geralt’s and presses the little brooch into his palm.

“Will you pin it on me?” he asks softly.

Geralt nods.

His fingers feel thick and clumsy as he fumbles with the delicate clasp. The top few buttons of Jaskier’s doublet, as ever, are undone, but it closes neatly just beneath his exposed neck. Geralt slips a finger beneath the satin fabric to pull it away from his throat, cautiously piercing the fabric with the thin pin and sliding it into its slot, locking the clasp with shaking hands.

His hand doesn’t move from Jaskier’s chest. A sword-calloused thumb, seemingly of its own volition, grazes lightly over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Geralt.”

He looks up, almost pulls away but for the flushed cheeks, the tongue that darts out to wet pink lips, the hooded eyes beneath dark lashes fixed on Geralt’s mouth. Jaskier’s breath is warm against his face. When did they draw so close?

“Are you going to kiss me, Geralt?” The breathy whisper is laced with wonder.

And he didn’t...didn’t buy the brooch to entice Jaskier into anything, didn’t mean to solicit any sort of reward, and he opens his mouth to tell him so, yet as his rough hand moves to gently cup the back of Jaskier’s neck the words that tumble out instead are, “I’d like to.”

And Jaskier throws back his head and laughs, a euphoric, intoxicated sound, as his lovely hands cradle Geralt’s face. He brings his forehead to rest against Geralt’s as they still, breathing each other for a moment before Jaskier surges forward to capture his lips.

His kiss tastes like sunlight.

[robust-cicada]

Fade Out Again (Thom Yorke X Reader)

For @shehangsbrightly

prompt: honestly i would be allll over the bends era thom, and i think something angsty is what i’m feeling rn. do your magic 😌

Gender Neutral and SFW

CW: angst, burnout, arguments, swearing, guilt, break up, bad mental health.

“I really don’t know what you want from me! I thought you’d be happy to see me after, I don’t know? Nearly a year? But no, I’m the bad guy as always!”

“You think that you’re the only one this tour has taken a toll on? I haven’t been in the comfort of my own home in a year. I haven’t seen my friends or family in a YEAR! You can’t always expect to be my top priority!”

“Obviously. You know, every tour you do the more of a self-centered asshole you become. Just because your band is ‘making it big’ doesn’t mean you have to treat the people in your life like shit, Thom! It isn’t just me. Ed literally has told me numerous stories from when you got too drunk to even perform! You promised.”

“Oh enough of that promise bullshit Y/N! I’m sick of it!”

“Well, that shows how much you fucking cared about it, huh? Shows what a promise means to you? You’re pathetic. The amount of love and support I have poured into you since fucking college and one hit song throws every promise and hope for our future away.”

“Oh fuck off.”

I let out a dry laugh and walked to our bedroom. I grabbed a suitcase and packed as much as I could shove into it.

“What are you doing now?”

“Fucking off. I’m done, Thom. Absolutely done.”

“Yeah sure. You won’t last more than two days Y/N, and you know it. We’ve been through this before.”

I stormed towards him, his back colliding with the wall. I looked into his eyes, trying to look for any sign of remorse in his cold, blue orbs.

“Not this time Thom. I’m tired of crawling back to you with hopes that things will be how they used to again. I am tired of endlessly longing for you to return the love I give to you. You’ve changed and if this is you now? I want no part of it.”

He scoffed and looked away from me.

“Anything to say? Or are you too good for that, Mr. Big Rockstar?”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

I scoffed and grabbed my stuff. I stormed out onto the snowy streets. It was freezing but I didn’t dare look back. It felt like I had been walking for hours before I found a phone booth. I put the change in the slot and dialed the only number I could remember through my rage.

“Hey, Eddie? It’s Y/N..”

“What happened this time?”

“Well, what usually happens when he gets home I suppose. Are you busy?”

“Need somewhere to stay?”

“Ye-ah.” My voice cracked as tears swelled my eyes.

“Where are you, I’ll be there as soon as I can?”

---

It had been nearly two months since we broke up and not a word was spoken between us. Ed had generously let me rent out the spare room in his house until I got my shit together, which did not seem to be happening. All I could seem to do was cry, work, and sleep. Eddie was wonderful and tried to help when he could, but he tended to keep his distance. At some point, I knew Thom would end up stumbling into the house, however, I did not expect to hear his voice breaking downstairs as he talked to Ed.

Thom’s POV

“Ed, it’s driving me mad! Do you know where they are, have you heard from them, anything?”

“If they wanted you to know where they were, they would’ve contacted you. I can’t really help you, man.”

“I just. I can’t do this anymore. I need them, so badly. You don’t fucking understand.” I crumbled to the ground in tears. “It’s my fault. Every time they leave it’s my fault and- and I just expect them to come back. What happened to me, Eddie? What... happened?”

“Thom. You’re the only person who’s gonna be able to fix this and you know it. I’m not helping you anymore. We’ve been through this too many times. I’m not a fucking couples counselor!” He grabbed his hair in frustration.

“You… You too? You’re supposed to be my best friend, and you’re giving up on me too?”

“You know what, Thom? That’s your problem. You can’t take any fucking responsibility for anything, can you? It’s always somebody else’s fault with you!”

I couldn’t even form a response. My thoughts spiraled rapidly as I tried to figure out where everything went to shit.

“I-I’m so-rry. I don’t know what to do, a-and I don’t mean to throw it all on you, Eddie, you… You’re just always so good with this stuff and you know them so well and- and- and..”

“Thom,” He held his head in his hand, “take a breath. There’s no need for all the blubbering.”

“But-”

“Just shut up for a minute okay? I’ll be right back.”

He marched up the stairs and disappeared. A few minutes later he came back down. Followed by Y/N.

Y/N’s POV

His face was tear-stained and puffy. He was in a pile on the floor looking as hopeless as an abandoned puppy.

“Y/N..”

I felt my jaw clench as I looked at him. I wanted to slap him and yell at him for everything he put me through, but my body betrayed me. Instead, I found myself kneeling in front of him, arm reaching out to cup his face in my hand. Tears streamed down his cheeks once again as he rested in my palm. He turned to kiss my fingertips.

“I’m sorry Y/N… I took you for granted. I thought you would always come back, and this time you didn’t, and my ego left with you. I need you, I need you so badly love. I can’t do this without you. Please I will do anything to have you back��� Please.” He was barely speaking and as he whispered he looked me in the eyes for the first time in years.

“I... I can’t, Thom.”

His posture snapped to attention and I watched his heart shatter again.

“Why not..?”

“You hurt me.”

Tears of my own now mimicked his.

“Please.”

“Thom, stop.”

“I can’t. I can’t because I love you, and if you ever loved me then you would come back.”

“Don’t you fucking dare with that bullshit Thomas.”

I stood and walked away, but he followed.

“Love doesn’t go away Y/N, you told me that yourself. If you loved me you wouldn’t walk away like this. You’re really willing to throw everything away like that?”

“Stop. Thom, I- I can’t do this, just go.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“And I’m not leaving with you.”

He approached me and gently grabbed my hands, giving me the same damn look he did every time he wanted to get his way.

“No, Thom. Stop. Please.”

“One more chance, that’s all I ask. If I fuck it up again I promise you will never hear from me again. I’ll take you on the next tour, I’ll let you get a puppy like you’ve always wanted. Literally, anything you want is yours. You don’t ever have to work again. Just, please?”

“You still don’t get it. I don’t want material things or money. I don’t, well I do want a puppy,” We chuckled, “But that’s not why I left. All I want is your love, some of your time and attention. I want to feel safe with you. I want to feel at home. I don’t feel like that with you anymore. The only feelings that run through me when I look at you are sadness and insecurity. You make me feel like a child being scolded by their mother. I just can’t live like that again.”

“I promise that I will fix what needs to be fixed and will do anything I can to make you feel safe again, just trust me.”

“We both know promises aren’t your thing.”

“I’ll keep this one.”

“I can’t believe that, Thom.”

“I’ll let Ed take over the band if I break this promise and I will never perform with Radiohead again.”

“Oh, shove off you lunatic! I’m not worth that. Your fans would have my head.”

“I’m serious.”

“You make everything so hard on me.”

“Jesus, Y/N would you please just say yes? All you have done the past two months aside from work is cry and sleep. I can barely get you to eat. Just get it over with. If he fucks you over again I will personally skin him alive, just, get it over with you two!”

Thom looked at me hopefully. I sighed.

“Fine.”

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!”

He planted kisses all over my face and pulled me into a tight hug.

“Jesus, Thom, you smell! When was your last shower?”

“I... I have no clue,” He scratched his neck and looked at the ground.

“I mean, you are rank! You smell like a secondary boys locker room after P.E.”

“Okay, in my defense, I didn’t think you were going to be here.”

“Yeah, so it’s okay that I suffer in your stench then?”

“Well, we’ve shared a tour bus, I figure that you’re used to it by now.”

“Well, by that logic, if Y/N is coming on tour with us, they better get used to it too, because you’ve smelled worse after a show.”

“Lovely.”

He laughed and engulfed me in a hug again. I gave in and dug my face into his neck, letting him rock us side to side.

“Let’s get you home then, yeah?”

“If anyone needs to get home it’s you so you can shower!”

“We can shower together if you’d like.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could leave the dirty talk for the car ride home it would be appreciated.”

We laughed once again.

“I’ll go pack,” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before walking up the stairs.

“I love you, Y/N!”

“I love you too Thom.”

[elena-reina]

First Love Part 2 - Harry Potter x Reader

Request: Would u write a part 2 to first love? more angst but her and harry end up together? - Anon

Warnings: none

Part 1

"Are you going to the celebration?”

You lifted your gaze from the book you were reading and locked eyes with Harry. You tilted your head to the side, lightly raising an eyebrow. Sitting in the library for the evening enjoying any random book that caught your attention, the room was dimly lit. 

The smell of parchment paper lingered around the room, almost comforting in a way. You were situated near the window so that you could look outside and watch the trees sway through the stormy night before heading off to bed.

“Celebration?” you questioned. 

Harry took your response as an invitation to sit next to you. Uncomfortable, you shielded yourself by subconsciously shifting to the side; however Harry didn’t bother to notice this. 

“Now that it’s Christmas Holiday, the other Professor’s are throwing a small get together for all the staff tomorrow at the Three Broomsticks.”

He gave you a thoughtful look with furrowed eyebrows, his hands pressed together as he twiddled his thumbs back and forth, and an unreadable face. You set your book down on the table in front of you, and pushed your hair behind your ear, clearing your throat.

“Oh, no I don’t think I am. It’s already pretty late.. I should head to bed,” you dismissed, standing up. His head followed your trail. You pressed your lips together, looking from side to side before bowing your head and turning away to walk out the room. You hadn’t realized that you sped walked until you were in your room in only a matter of seconds.

You had been running into Harry more times than you could count on your fingers. Were they coincidences or synchronized. You couldn’t tell. 

Collapsing onto your bed, you grabbed a pillow and threw it on top of your face. You let out a scream that was only muffled by the pillow and slowly lowered it to expose half your face. Your eyes stared up at your ceiling.

You were confused by the communication between you and Harry. In moments you felt like there was a lot left unsaid- but it was also for the better. Some things were better left unsaid. You drifted off to sleep, awaiting for the next morning to come along.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, “I appreciate everything that you do for me deeply. I wish there was more I could do for you. Is there anything you need?”

“No,” you smiled warmly. “I’m okay, you’re all I need.”

Was it easy dating Harry? No, not really. Rumors would spread like wildfire, but neither you nor Harry chose to engage in any of it. However sometimes you would overhear such ridiculousness that you couldn’t help but be upset sometimes.

He frowned, feeling as though you were holding something back. “Are you sure?”

You brought your face closer to his. You brushed your nose with his, grinning.

“Kiss me.”

He smiled, leaning forward and pressing his lips on yours, slowly.

A booming clap of thunder jolted you awake from your deep slumber. The deafening sound rattled throughout the room, sending vibrations through your bones. You instinctively flew up into a sitting position, clutching your thick, warm comforter to your chest, looking around the room. Your breath labored, coming in quick, shallow pants as the haze of sleep dispersed from your mind. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. As you try to maintain your breathing, you rub your eyes, repositioning yourself to lay on your side, the pillow beneath your cheek cooling your warm skin.

Looking at the clock, your eyes were still blurry from just waking up, it was morning, but the dark grey clouds outside made the sky dark. Another roar of thunder rumbled throughout your room as the outside stormed. Rain hit your window, endlessly running down the glass. 

“What is wrong with me,” you mumbled, pushing your hand in your face. It’s like your dreams want to torment you. Yawning, you decided it was best to get ready for the day.

Brushing the hair our of your face, you went for your daily stroll through Hogwarts. You loved taking in the scenery of the, now, remodeled school. You remember the Battle of Hogwarts like it was yesterday. The crumbling of the classrooms you’ve spent so long studying in, the countless meals eaten in the Grand Hall, and spending time with everyone overall.

Walking through the open halls, you examined all the potted plants. One of the plants was hidden far back away from the others, dying from a lack of water. The rain outside created an atmosphere of calmness.

Bending over, you grabbed onto the potted plant and stood up, examining a place you could possibly put it down. You lightly grabbed one of the brittle leaves in your hand, feeling it’s leafy-veins.

“What’re you doing?” Harry said, coming out of the blue.

Startled, you jumped accidentally loosening your grip over the plant in your hand, causing it to fall to the floor and break.

“Shit,” you sighed, bending over to clean up the mess from the plant you dropped.

“I’m so sorry, here let me help you,” Harry rushed, bending over with you to help pick up the broken pieces of terracotta.

“No, it’s alright. I’m the one who dropped it-”

Your hands accidentally brush past each others, sending electricity through you. You lift your gaze pulling back, stood up, and pulled out your wand.

“Reparo.”

The pot began to fix itself back together. Slipping your wand back in your pocket, and put the plant near the rain.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized again.

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismissed, “Now, if you’ll just excuse me.” 

You began to walk in the opposite direction of his presence. You knew it that your relationship had ended a while ago, but this didn’t mean you wanted anything to do with him. You tried denying yourself the truth, but deep down you were still bitter about how the breakup ended. And now that you two were both Professor’s at Hogwarts, it’s even harder to forget about everything.

“Y/N, wait, please,” he breathed, catching up to you. “I need to say something.” Annoyed, you stopped and huffed.

“What, Harry? Why do you and I keep running into each other, I’ve got things to do. Why don’t you go and hang out with your best friends, Ron and Hermione,” Your tone sounded more harsh than you had intended. You almost regretted it, but it was too late now. You stood your ground. He was taken back by your outburst.

“Are you avoiding me?” he said, his green eyes searching for any sign of emotion behind your blank ones.

You scoffed, looking to the side at the rain falling. “Yes, Harry! Gosh, how can you be so dense!?” you exclaimed, “Clearly, I’m not over what happened to us-”

“Years ago.”

“I know it was years ago, but I’m still hurt! I loved you for fucks sake, don’t you get that. It took me a while to get over you and erase you from my brain and here you come involving yourself in my life again,” you voice trailed off.

“And you don’t think I haven’t been hurting as well?”

You sneered. “You? Hurting?” you bitterly chuckled, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You ended things with me.”

“To protect you!” he shouted, running his hand through his hair, scratching it. He did this when he was stressed.

“Protect me?! Stop acting like you did it all for me, it was your own selfish intentions. If you weren’t ready for a relationship, you should’ve just said so instead of that bullshit you told me that night.” You were pissed. Your sadness was being masked by your rage.

He mumbled under his breath too quiet for you to hear. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “I can’t hear you.”

“Things were just different that night,” he whispered.

“I agree, it’s when you finally let your true colors shine through,” you began. He opened his mouth to immediately interject, but you beat him to it.

“I meant nothing to you. You said it yourself, Harry. You valued your friendship with Ron and Hermione than your own relationship with me.”

“Stop saying that!” he shouted, raising his voice this time, “It isn’t true! You meant everything to me! EVERYTHING!”

“NO, I DIDN’T!” You yelled back, matching his energy. “YOU ABANDONED US!”

His eyes glossed over, he was on the verge of tears. This normally would have brought you tears as well, but it was like all your emotions were cut off and replaced with anguish. 

“I LOVED YOU AND STILL DO!” He licked his lips.

“Then why did you end things so easily like I hadn’t given you my all.”

He took a breath, his voice wavering. 

“I couldn’t lose you like I’ve lost everyone else in my family, Y/N. Everyone in my life I loved always ended up dead- and if you died because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he paused, “I thought it was better that you be mad at me than dead.”

You were at a loss for words. “All I ever wanted was you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take back what I said, but can we please try again?” he pleaded, taking your hands in his. You looked up at him, unsure.

“I can’t get hurt again,” you whispered.

“You won’t, just give me one last chance. I promise.”

Thinking about it for a bit, you shifted on your feet.

“How about this, once you prove it to me first, I’ll let you know how I’m feeling.”

You weren’t ready to completely let your guard down, the truth of the matter is that you were still scared. 

“Deal, now. Will you join me for the celebration later or is that still a done deal?” he said with a small smile forming on his face. You bit your cheek, to hold back your smile, but it evidently came through. Nodding your head, you walked the rest of the way through Hogwarts having a heartfelt conversation with him.

Maybe happy endings do exist sometimes.

[fromthehellmouth]

One for Sorrow, Two for Mirth

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Maledictus! Femme! Gryffindor! oc. Regrettably, there is so much angst... Part One!

Maledictus prompt requested by @hyacinthsandbooks I had so much fun creating this character, thanks for the prompt! Feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Drawing by me and inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy!

Overview: 

Tom Riddle befriends an unlikely victim of a powerful blood curse

I had increasingly found myself in a perpetual state of insomnia and dread. There was almost nothing I could occupy my mind with that would take it from my lingering anxiety and melancholia surrounding my condition. My nights were long and restless, and I had to become endlessly creative in order to find ways that would keep me out of trouble as well as keeping me occupied during the long dark nights in the Gryffindor common room alone past curfew. Often, it would result in me exploring the castle grounds in my other form, or writing down my thoughts to pass the time. Perhaps it was the concept of literature that I would gravitate to because of its mysterious qualities of immortality. It was chilling but also somewhat comforting to know that my works would remain with me far after I had irreversibly changed. It was not something I liked to dwell on, but it was something that I knew I could not escape from--it was always there, nagging, prodding, looming over my decisions, my psyche--it was a horribly cruel curse. 

Over a century ago my family had gotten involved with a group of vengeful wizards who were known for their adaptations of some of the darkest corners of the dark arts. They fled the country but the curse went with them. Once a curse of that strength had penetrated its way into your bloodline, it would permanently dwell there, feeding off you, like a tumor, like a degenerative disease, like a leech, essentially, it declared its power with its name; it was a blood curse. It was only a matter of years before there would be nothing more I could do, and I would have to accept my change and my fate with it. At least there was no need to study for N.E.W.Ts. My parents had begged me for years not to accept such a pessimistic attitude, to care about my studies, my dreams, and my aspirations. Over the past few months, through our owl correspondence, I felt they had lost the motivation to keep pestering me about a life that had been taken from me the moment my grandmother told me what I was: a maledictus. 

Fortunately, at this point in my development, my transformations were still voluntary. When I was very young, I remember having frequent visits to the Ministry of Magic with my parents. They would have me seen by famous dark wizard catchers, legendary curse-breakers, healers, and talented seers. From the beginning we knew there was no known cure for this type of blood curse, but I think the little security the aurors offered was necessary for my parents to hold onto. They needed expert opinions, that unfortunately would continue to tell them there was nothing to be done. Of course, my childhood self had virtually no knowledge of the severity of my condition, and thought it was simply enchanting to see mommy and daddy’s workplace.

Since my first year at Hogwarts, I had told no one about my condition except headmaster Dippet, professor Stump—my head of house, and professor Merrythought who was an expert in the dark arts because after all, she was the DADA teacher. I liked professor Merrythought quite a bit. She was an older woman with grey-blonde hair pinned back in a loose braided bun which she always had hairs escaping from. She was one of the few people who did not immediately resort to pity and fear when I told her what my bloodline had been cursed with. She was calm and interested, she told me how special I was and got me involved into studying more about blood disorders involving dark magic. Unfortunately, there had been rumors of her leaving Hogwarts and retiring—yet another thing I would be attempting to repress. My mind had become an expert at most coping mechanisms, my methods of choice being denial, repression, and sublimation--primarily writing. 

In a sense, knowing my future was carved into stone was somewhat freeing. It allowed me to live fully and completely in the moment, and not have to plan or study for my future. In another sense, the looming dread was very real, and seemed to be working its way into the grooves of my personality--settling in the fine lines of my psyche. My dull despair had become a part of me. I never doubted my purposelessness until I met Tom Riddle. 

***

It was nearly 1:45am when I noticed his figure contrasted against the shamrock-green hills. In a defeated attempt to become more comfortable with my animal form, I had begun to fly over the castle grounds more recently during the night when I felt my insomnia had become too much for me to ignore by lounging in the Gryffindor common room long after the other students had taken leave. I was never in the mind of being rebellious or secretive, and I was almost positive that if I had told professor Merrythought, she would have kept the sensitivity of my travels safe. Spotting a dark-clothed figure, I circled closer, still keeping my distance. Edging in tiny fractions closer to the tops of the forbidden forest’s trees, I made my way closer to the figure. I was presently slightly concerned for encountering the kind of person who would be coming from the forbidden forest at nearly 2 o’clock in the morning, but my growing curiosity controlled me, and I eyed the figure from above, still slowly cruising lower and lower. When I had reached the grass, the figure had entered the covered corridor leading to the clock tower, and I decided to present myself to the figure who couldn’t have been more than 6 feet away from me. It was always fun to play out a little scare. I let out a shrill, stuttering call. The figure froze, spinning swiftly with a hand to his mouth. I could see his shoulders quivering as he stared at me. 

“...it’s just a magpie, Tom...” he whispered to himself as if he needed convincing. As he turned to face me, I immediately recognized him as a popular Slytherin boy from... history of magic...? divination...?

“Unless...” 

Defense against the dark arts. That was it. 

“Are you... an animagus?” 

I froze. How could he have known? There was no way he could have known... Silently and immediately I flew back outside the covered corridor back into the open air, and faster than I had ever flew before, I found my way back to the Gryffindor tower, perching on the windowsill I had left open, dropping inside, and in the darkness transforming back into a student and swiftly slipping under the thick covers, I fell asleep suprisingly effortlessly. 

***

In the morning I awoke earlier than usual. It was as if my mind knew I had been gifted with a long sleep and didn’t want me to get comfortable. I had become accustomed to falling asleep late and waking up early—both situations leaving me awake while the rest of the castle lay unconscious. I put on my uniform and brushed out my hair. I found that the more I transformed, the silkier my hair had become, it was as if the strands were becoming more feather-like, and tended to reflect the light more. I had gotten nearly a dozen requests for the enchantment I had used, always leaving me with an awkward and less than satisfactory “it must just be oily.” I descended the stairs to the common room where I read the clock.

5:30.

Defeatedly, I gathered all my schoolbooks and began to review the material for my first class of the day. Herbology.

***

I decided to take a walk to the kitchens to pick up a cup of tea before breakfast, which begun at 9am each morning. I still had a few hours before breakfast, so after I made myself a cup I circled back to the clock tower courtyard near where I had departed from the boy I had followed last night. I sat on the ledge of the fountain and began to re-read the textbook required for this upcoming unit in herbology on uses and cautions of aquatic plants. We would be taking a guided field trip to the Black Lake for research, which I was quite excited for. While my eyes danced across the finely-scripted writing in the yellowing book, my mind wandered to last night. I found myself retracing my steps, and visualizing the boy’s face above me, shocked and intrigued. What did he know?

***

After herbology class, which had been held at the Black Lake, I followed the mass of students back to the main castle grounds. My days at school were mostly spent alone either studying or hopelessly wandering in my mind to places where I no longer had to abandon my future. I recognized very few people as friends, and I stood out from my fun-loving, reckless, and colorful housemates. It was as if my natural personality I remembered glimpses of from childhood had been veiled with a layer of plaque, tarnished and dusty. I didn't mind the aloneness. I often felt most secure when I didn’t need to reveal my secret to anyone, and was able to choose my schedule the way I saw fit. Back in the castle, I followed my normal crowd of Gryffindors who I shared my first two classes with. These were the students who I sat with at meals, went to study parties with, sat in the common room after hours with, but never ended up knowing very well. It was a polite relationship. They asked me what I thought about our next class’ lesson. 

“Can’t say I’m excited.” I rolled my eyes, my hands rested deep in the pockets of my skirt. 

“Don’t want people to know what you’re scared of?” 

“Must be it.” 

Defense against the dark arts with professor Merrythought was next, and the notorious lesson on boggarts had been expected by most students for months. Undoubtedly there was excitement for exposure to mysterious and dark creatures as well as teasing material for students with childish fears. I couldn’t help think of the boy I had encountered by the clock tower who I would inevitably see again this upcoming class. I hoped my nervous habits would not give me away as suspicious. For some reason, I felt the need to be wary of him.

***

The classroom had been completely rearranged for the upcoming lesson, with the chairs and desks pushed to either side of the long room, and professor Merrythought’s figure standing in the back near a large ornate chest. As the students trickled in, the rumblings of the crowd grew louder as giggles and anticipation filled the cold air. My hands wrapped around my arms as I attempted to retain my warmth. 

Am I the only one who notices that draft?

Merrythought calmed us down and begun her lecture on the history of the discovery and initial magical responses to the boggart. It takes the image of what you most fear... Its true form has never been seen... It withers at the sound of laughter... The students got called up one at a time as she showed us the counter-curse Riddikulus! which would obstruct the boggart’s form and intercept its visual manipulation. Riddikulus! the steep chasm of a split cliff lets out a nasty fart and the room explodes in laughter. Riddikulus! a swarm of wasps turn into winged lemons and drop to the floor, rolling around and colliding with each other, and the class cackles. 

Godric, would she just close that bloody window?!

“Lucia!” the room’s roaring died down and I felt my face turn red hot. My stomach twisted and contorted within me and my walk was feeble as I approached the large chest. 

“And when the boggart is released, remember the incantation!” I swallowed hard and in a second, the lid of the chest flew open and a swirling silvery mass flew toward me and shifted into a bird, its head, beak, and breast were black mimicking a raven, but its belly was white and the under-feathers of the wings and long elegant tail that caught the light shimmered hints of deep phthalo green and royal Prussian blue. The bird began to lunge toward me and in a panic I shouted the incantation much louder than I expected. 

“Riddikulus!!” The bird’s feathers erupt in every direction, leaving the creature completely bald and resembling an uncooked chicken, struggling to stay suspended in the air. The class giggled and Merrythought propelled the creature back into the chest and called forward the next student as I slipped back into the crowd. 

“Tom!” The boy approached the chest in a single fluid moment. He wore his school robes to every class unlike the majority of students who only wore the required minimum of a blouse, sweater and trousers or skirt. He stood out not only because of his height but because his ebony-black hair glistened under the  lantern-lit room. His robes seemed to be an extension of his broad square shoulders, and as he readied his wand I felt the room muffle in an unnatural stillness. The boggart shifted into the body of a young boy, with the same black hair as Tom, the same pale skin and full, pink lips, but the boy’s eyes were closed, his face was hollowed and gaunt, and he was lying on the floor, seemingly lifeless. The class seemed to collectively hold its breath as the dead body of a young boy nearly identical to the older Tom lay before us. Tom lifted his wand and smoothly uttered, 

“Riddikulus.” The black robes along with the body of the boy melted into a thick black bubbling slime that seemed to shake and bounce slightly. This time there was no laughter. There was no reaction. Professor Merrythought quickly swooped up the transformed boggart with her wand and tossed it with a graceful flick back into the large chest. 

“Well done class! Quite the show. That’s the end of the lesson for today, we’ll continue where we left off tomorrow!” The students murmured with the abrupt dismissal and I couldn’t help myself from straying my gaze to look at Tom. To my instant shock his piercing aquamarine eyes shot right back at me and I almost let out an audible gasp at the sudden intensity of his stare. I felt my heart-rate race and I nearly ran from the classroom. 

*** 

Later that night my mind was racing, I had to know what he knew, why he had stared at me back in class, did he know I was the bird who had followed him last night? I sat by the crackling fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. The clock read “12:10,” and there was only one girl left in my company. She sat at the other corner of the room and I could hear the shuffling of books which meant I would soon be alone and she would be going to sleep. I caught myself staring into the flames, the fire dancing and glittering into smoke and stray glowing embers. 

“Goodnight!” the girl called out as she ascended the stairs to the dorms. 

“Goodnight.” I replied, my voice was tired but my mind was wide awake. My eyes lazily flew over the spread of books before me. 

There was no way I would be able to study with Tom on my mind. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his bright eyes flashed in that cold room. It was as if the only thing my head could focus on were those piercing eyes and the image of that magpie lunging right toward me.

If you’d like to read Part Two, click here

Tags: @tmr-simp-pride

[softyoongiionly]

🧊lo-fi hip hop🧊

You have a terrible day and, Yoongi comes to the rescue.

In more ways than one...

Genre: Fluff, Smut (18+ only plz)

Word Count:

Warnings: a wee bit of angst but, not a TON, Yoongi :o), smut and explicit language.

A/N: Hiiiiii I missed you I love you please enjoy! This is unedited for now.

Also, yes this is technically a FnD drabble but, it can be read as a stand alone. HOWWeevvverrr if you want to read the fic this belongs to, 

subscribe here x

You are having the worst day. 

Like, the kind of day where you stub your pinky toe on the corner of the table, spill your coffee all over yourself and, miss your train to class kind of day. 

It’s the kind of day where all you want to do is crawl beneath the covers and, cry for approximately 18 hours straight. 

Just the girly things. 

But given the fact that you’re 3 weeks away from graduation and, you can’t do that.   

You catch a taxi to your classes, walk off the soreness in your foot and, change out of your coffee stained shirt. 

The day drags on endlessly and, you feel yourself getting overwhelmed at things that would normally roll off your shoulders. 

On the subway ride home, you’re practically holding back tears as you try to reign in all the emotions you’re dealing with.  

You could call Jimin. 

You know he’d be here for you in a heartbeat. 

You could text your two other best friends and, you know that they’d cheer you up with various memes and tik toks. 

But, there is only one person you want to call.  

There is only one person, in this moment, who’d be able to put a proper smile on your face.   

Yoongi.  

The only problem is: your boyfriend is also dealing with his own mountain of stress.   

He’s been in the studio since Monday mastering his final project.   

You’ve barely heard from him. 

You haven’t seen each other since the day after Jimin’s showcase and, that was nearly a week ago.  

You miss him.   

A lot. 

Yoongi has a way of making everything smaller.   

He takes life in piece by piece and, with a perspective that is so uniquely him, he seems to know the right thing to do. 

It’s almost as if it’s instinctual.  

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t need him right now.  

You needed his gentle words of encouragement, the lullaby of his voice, the tenderness behind his touch…  

There is a bit of embarrassment that washes over you. 

You’ve never been the one to need anyone.  

You value the people in your life of course but, you’ve never felt like this before.  

Sitting on your couch, there is strong battle waging inside your head.   

To call or not to call.   

He is your boyfriend so, you know he’d be there for you.   

But you don’t want to bother him.  

You know how much stress his under and, you don’t want to add to that.   

But fuck, today is rough.   

Sometimes you just need your mans.   

You decide to bite the bullet and call him.   

The persistent ringing on the other end of the line is causing a bit of anxiety to knock against your chest. 

What if he’s too busy?   

What if he thinks you’re being dramatic?   

You know these concerns are unreasonable; Yoongi is the kindest person alive. 

But, there is still a level of apprehension regarding asking others for help. 

“Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t texted back today, I should be almost done.” 

His voice soothes you immediately. 

“Uh no- no it’s ok. I just um…” You trail off, trying to contain the instability in your voice but you’re too late. 

He’s already heard it. 

“Yah is everything good? Are you alright?” 

“Y-yeah I just- I just wanted to check in.” 

“You don’t sound alright. What’s going on jagi?” 

His concern chisels away at the bit of resolve you have left and, rather than lie to him, you decide to be honest. 

“I’m just not having a good day and-“ Your voice breaks and Yoongi can feel his chest clenching at the sound, “I just wanted to say hi.” 

“Are you home right now?”  

You nod despite his inability to see you, “Yeah I just got in. I’m sorry to bother you in the studio-“  

“Hey you’re never bothering me, don’t worry about that. Are you up for seeing anyone or do you just want to talk?” 

Yoongi is amazing this way. 

He never assumes. 

He always asks what you’re comfortable with. 

He knows that there are times when sadness is left alone and, there are times when sadness needs a visitor. 

“I don’t want to interrupt you in the studio. I just miss you…” 

Yoongi bites his lip on the other end of the line. 

He wishes you knew how important you were to him. 

He wishes you knew that he’d drop anything for you.  

“I’ll come over ok? I miss you too. It’s been a long week huh?” 

You want to protest, you really do… 

The sound of his voice is too much to resist though and, you find yourself resigning to his plans to come see you. 

“Yeah it has. Are you sure you can? I don’t want to stop you from working.” 

Yoongi can hear the tension in your voice and, right now all he wants to do is bring the light back into it. 

“You are more important than anything I’m doing here.” You can already hear him grabbing his things and, for the first time today you feel a smile coming across your face, “I’ll bring dinner too, are you craving anything?”  

Jesus, you really love this man.  

“Dumplings.”  

Your reply is paired with a light giggle and, Yoongi’s rickety laughter continues the process of lightening your mood. 

“Why did I even ask? Alright, I’ll grab those and then I’ll be right there ok?” 

“Ok, thank you…I love you.” 

The words are still so new between the two of you and, they cause a giant gummy smile to erupt on Yoongi’s face. 

“I love you too jagiya.” 

Just like that, with a few simple words, your bad day is suddenly much brighter. 

After changing into more comfortable clothes, you tidy up a bit around your apartment to prepare for Yoongi’s arrival. 

He doesn’t take long to get to you and, when there is a knock at your front door, you nearly trip as you run towards the sound. 

Yoongi is standing in the doorway with a takeout bag in his hand, looking like the most beautiful man on planet earth.  

He’s in a black v neck and, gray sweat pants and, his black hair is a fluffy mess atop his head suggesting that he had recently showered. 

He smiles at you with a knowing look in his eyes but, before he is able to stay anything, you wrap your arms around his waist and, bury your face in his chest. 

“Hi.” He murmurs, wrapping his free arm around you, kissing the top of your head. “Rough day hm?” 

All you do is nod, taking in the clean scent of his cologne. 

A fond smile is immediately on his lips as he too, is comforted by your presence.  

Yoongi makes his way into your apartment whilst he still holds onto you, setting the food on the counter so he can hug you properly.  

In his arms, you peek up at him and, one sight of his pouty lips is enough for you to kiss him.  

It’s the not kiss Yoongi expects as figured you’d be pretty emotional when he got to you but, the way you’re working his lips makes his knees weak. 

You didn’t expect it either but, you couldn’t help yourself. 

Sliding your hands up his back, you tangle your fingers into the loose strands at the base of his neck, your lips moving slightly more urgently against his. 

“Hey-“ Yoongi doesn’t want to stop you, he really doesn’t but, he wants to make sure you’re ok before you go any further. “Are you ok?” 

He smooths a thumb over your swollen lips, his eyes slightly lulled from the effect your kiss has on him, “What do you need?” 

His questions have multiple meanings and, you wish you had clearer answers for him but all you can muster is, “I need you.” 

A small smirk comes across his lips as he tilts your chin up towards him, “I’m right here jagi.” 

You nod and, move to kiss him again before he brings you to a gentle stop, placing a kiss on cheek, “Hey…lets slow down ok? I wanna make sure you’re alright before we do anything…”  

Now listen… 

The next thing you’re about to do is a little unreasonable. 

It’s a little ridiculous... 

It’s a little silly.  

But, you’re only human.  

For whatever reason, Yoongi wanting to hold off on sex makes the tears congregate back to your eyes. 

“Oh- Oh you’re right I’m sorry. I’m sorry I should have asked...” You sniffle, avoiding his gaze and, stepping away from him.  

The sting of embarrassment heats up your cheeks and, before he has a chance to say anything, you nod to the food on the counter, “Thank you uh- thank you for bringing the food. How much do I-?” The emotion squeezes at the tone of your voice until it’s clearly noticeable that you’re about to cry. 

“Whoa hey- hey…what’s wrong?” Yoongi rushes over to you, place his hands on your upper arms, “Jagi…look at me.” 

You’re frozen in the middle of your kitchen, your gaze fixed firmly on a chewed up hair-tie courtesy of Marzipan. 

“I’m ok.” You insist despite the tears filling your eye sockets, “I’m sorry I jumped on you like that.”  

“You have tears in your eyes, you’re not fine.” He remarks sagely, tilting his head to get you to look at him “Come here…”  

He pulls you back into his arms despite the stiffness in your body before he speaks up again, “Did you just apologize for kissing me?” 

“I just-“ You sniffle, your chest heaving with the onslaught of emotion, “I can’t do anything right. I spilled coffee all over myself this morning, I stubbed my toe, I missed my train, I kept getting questions wrong in the lecture, I am freaking out about this deadline this Tuesday and, then…and then…” You’re trying to speak through your tears but, it’s becoming a jumbled mess, “I can’t even turn my boyfriend on without making it weird and, I interrupted your studio time and, I’m just a mess-  I’m sorry.” 

Yoongi wants to tell you how wrong you are, he wants to slough away all of your tension but, for the moment, he lets you cry into his chest. 

He holds you in the middle of the kitchen floor, pressing kisses into your forehead as the two of you sway gently from side to side.  

“Let’s go lay down…” 

The tenderness in his voice is impossible to refuse and, all you can do is let him lead you to your bedroom, abandoning the food  on the countertop. 

Yoongi is an expert at reheating leftovers as he often forgets to finish all of his food. 

The covers are pulled back despite the fact that you’re still clinging to him but, he doesn’t miss a beat as he pulls you underneath your duvet, insuring that you don’t move far from him. 

“I got you, I hear you…” He whispers into the near darkness of your bedroom, his words punctuated with more kisses. 

“I’m sorry…”  

It’s a terrible habit of yours, to apologize when you’re sad, but it’s a habit none the less. 

“Stop apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just having a bad day baby…” 

Yoongi reserves terms of endearment for when he really means them. Sure, they slip out during heated sessions in the bedroom but, they always have a meaning and, they are never used as just another name to call you. 

“I’ve read your paper yeah? It’s full of so much passion and, research. They are going to want to publish it in an undergrad journal of some kind. You have so a way with words, it’s incredible. I know it’s easy to get swept up in the pressure and, that’s ok. Just try and remember that you’ve done your best and, that’s all you can do.” His hand combs through your hair gently, stopping at any snags along the way and, moving to a new spot as he continues, “You don’t ever have to be sorry for having a bad day. I’m not just around for the good days…” 

Shifting beneath your duvet, you peer up at him with a hopeless glance, “I just hate feeling this way, I feel weak.” 

Yoongi’s pretty mouth curves up into a fond smile as he brushes his thumb over your cheek, “You’re weak for having a bad day?” 

“I mean…no. I guess not, I just feel weak for-“ You cut yourself off as your teeth take their place on your bottom lip, “for feeling like I needed you. I knew that nothing else would have made me feel better and, I guess I’ve never been in that position before. It freaks me out a little bit.” 

Yoongi’s wise eyes follow along with your words, his smile lingering all the while, “Terrifying isn’t it?”  

You groan, burying your face into his neck, causing rickety laughter to leave his lips as he holds you tighter to his chest.  

“I…hate….feelings.” You grumble against his skin, placing a few timid kisses there. 

Yoongi continues laughing, his capable fingers brushing against the exposed skin on your back. 

“I felt the same way that night at my studio. I knew there was no one else I wanted to see.” Yoongi murmurs, the tone of his voice soothing you, “I hated that I was right. You made me feel so much better. I didn’t want you to leave the next day even though I was going to see you that night. Trust me, I understand how scary it can be to need someone but, I know for a fact you didn’t think I was weak for needing you that night. So, I don’t think you should apply different standards for yourself. That isn’t fair.” 

As expected, Yoongi provides the exact support you need. 

He’s right. 

There is no weakness in being vulnerable. 

There is no weakness in having a bad day.  

“You’re smart.” You note and, a smile breaks across your mouth as Yoongi laughs again. 

It’s one of your favorite sounds. 

“So are you.” He kisses the top of your head, his hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing at them gently, “it’s not always easy to see the good in yourself but, keep trying ok?” 

A response from you comes in the form of a nod whilst warmth flutters into your heart.  

It’s the kind of warmth only Yoongi can provide and, it makes you want to kiss him until the early hours of the morning.  

It’s a possibility right? 

You know he should probably go back to the studio after dinner. 

Yoongi maneuvers the two of you during your contemplation so that he’s in a position to connect his lips to yours. 

He’s so gentle. 

He kisses your bottom lip first, lingering for a moment before proceeding to your top lip.  

Yoongi’s hooded eyes remain partially open, staring into your own as he repeats the motions on your lips over and over again. 

You let him, enjoying the plushness of his mouth, enjoying the way he wets your lips.  

Finally though, it becomes too much and your hand reaches up to brush at the tender skin of his cheek before pulling him closer to you. 

Yoongi kisses you slowly, as he usually does but, you can feel the emotion behind it. 

The sun informs you of its dwindling position in the sky as the light in your room grows dimmer and dimmer.  

The traffic outside your window is a distant sound compared to the soft increase in breath coming from your boyfriend.  

“I love kissing you.” He whispers, suckling at your bottom lip. 

You smile into his mouth, reconnecting your lips fully before responding, “I love you.” 

His gums are out then, beaming brightly at your sudden proclamation. 

Yoongi swears he could listen to you saying those three words a million times and, he’d never get tired of it. 

“Don’t try to one up me…” He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he tilts your chin up towards him with one finger, “I love you too.” 

It’s your turn to grin now, your eyes likely staring up at him as if he were the greatest gift in the world. 

Because, you know, he is.  

“Is your appetite back? I can throw those dumplings on the stove really quick if you want.” He offers, his finger still hooked underneath your chin. 

Although it’s a tempting offer, it surprises you a bit and you can’t help but pout up at him. 

“Yah what’s that face for?”  

“We’ve been making out for like 10 minutes, how are you thinking about food right now?”  

Your tone isn’t accusatory as normally something like this wouldn’t phase you but, you’re a bit fragile today and, unfortunately your insecurities tend to pop out during times like these. 

Yoongi still remains endeared beneath your inquiry, a smirk at the corner of his mouth, “I’m thinking about your needs right now. If I was thinking about myself I’d probably be kissing my way up your thighs right now…” 

His answer is surprising and it’s enough to send arousal flooding to your core.  

You’re extra sensitive today and desperate for relief that you know Yoongi is more than capable of providing. 

“I don’t need food…” You grumble, trying to hide the way he affects you and, Yoongi is quick to kiss the pout of your lips, snickering as he does. 

“No? What do you need then?” 

You’re really receptive to his touch now as he slides his hands back down to your hips. 

He notices and, your reaction causes his dick to twitch in the confines of his sweats. 

“You…” You murmur against his lips, parting your legs subconsciously, “I know you probably have to go back soon but-“ 

With a furrowed brow, Yoongi moves from your lips, “Go back where?” 

“To the studio.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, pecking your lips twice in a row, “I’m not going anywhere. I told you, you’re important than anything in the studio.” 

Biting your lip, you nod, sliding your hands up his nimble arms and resting them on his shoulders, “Can you stay the night?” 

A soft smile is on his lips then, “Of course…” He whispers, before nodding to the pillows, “Now lay down for me…” 

As you’re settling back against the bed, Yoongi is up on his knees shifting so he can lay between your legs. 

Before he does though, he smirks shamelessly looking over his shoulder towards your window, “Alexa, play Yoongi’s lo-fi mix…” 

Your mouth parts in shock before a giggle rushes past your lips, “When did you have time to do that???” 

He chuckles as the music starts flooding in through the speakers, “I paired my phone with it when I set it up for you. It auto-connects whenever I come over…” 

You roll your eyes, giggling still, “I should have known- did you make a sex playlist?” 

He blushes at your accusation but, he doesn’t immediately deny it as he slowly parts your thighs, “Stop asking so many questions.” He smirks again as he hears your laughter, feeling warm at the sound of it, “Close your eyes…” 

As your giggling fades, you oblige and allowing your eyes to flutter shut. 

The low hum of the music fills you with a sense of relaxation despite the quickening of heartbeat. 

Yoongi runs his hands gently up your legs, parting them further as he allows his finger tips to tease against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

His motions cause goosebumps to erupt beneath his touch and, he can’t help but smile to himself at your reaction.  

It’s satisfying to know he affects you this way. 

Although, Yoongi still believes it’s incomparable to the way you affect him. 

Silence settles between the two of you for the moment as the smooth ambience of the music dances around the room.  

Yoongi continues teasing over your skin; trace shapes over your hips, fluttering his fingers dangerously close to the ache between your legs but, he pulls away to push your t-shirt up your body, revealing your breasts to him.  

You can’t see his reaction to you but, you can hear him inhale shakily at the sight of you. 

“So beautiful...” He murmurs in Korean, the sound of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. 

A smile presents itself as you recognize the word, “You said beautiful...” 

Yoongi returns your smile at your pride, nodding as he brushes his fingers over your nipples. 

“Hmm so you have been studying...” He observes and, you can feel his breath against your skin as he leans down to press a kiss between your breasts. 

You nudge him with your knee, keeping your eyes shut despite your urge to look at him, “Shut up.” 

He snickers before placing lingering kisses down the length of your torso, nipping at the top of your belly button, smirking as you giggle. 

As he gets to the waistband of your shorts, you feel around and gently brush your hand against his cheek, “I didn’t shave...” 

Yoongi doesn’t falter but, he does take your fingertip between his lips, sucking on the end of it, “Good.” 

His response fuels something inside of you and, for whatever reason, it makes you wetter. 

Acceptance in all forms is sexy, what can you say? 

Yoongi continues his motions down the seam of your shorts, spreading warmth and pleasure as he does.  

He purses his lips, hovering over the fabric right above your clit before pushing against it with his mouth, rubbing back and forth.  

The movement is slow and deliberate but, it’s enough to cause your center to throb. 

Yoongi does this for a moment, before he licks up the length of your shorts. 

You say nothing as he teases you because, you know his intention isn’t to be cruel. 

Build-up can make or break a good orgasm. 

Yoongi finally tugs down your shorts and, at the sight between your legs, he feels himself growing uncomfortably hard. 

A deep breath is pulled through your nose as you feel his lips on you. 

He kisses at your lips before licking up one side of you, then the other... 

“Fuck, I’m hungry...” 

The bit of Korean is the last thing he utters before his tongue rubs over your clit. 

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure to the base of your spine, an unstable breath leaving your lips. 

You don’t have time to decipher what he says because, he quickly gets to work on eating you out.  

Yoongi really is an artist between your thighs.  

He knows exactly where to lick, when to suck, when to rub... 

His quick but deliberate and, yet it feels like it lasts forever every time.  

You feel his lips kissing and licking at your clit before your hands tangle in his hair, urging him to go harder. 

And harder he goes... 

You can feel yourself growing closer to cumming so, with your eyes still closed, you trail your fingers over your breasts, allowing your fingertips to ghost over hardened nipples. 

Despite your lack of vision, you can assume Yoongi is watching you by the way he groans into your pussy. 

“I wish I could do that for you.” He whispers, lightly pressing a finger against your entrance, “But I need my hands for something else.” 

“Oh-” 

The sound is involuntary, the feeling of Yoongi curling a finger inside of you prompts it from you without warning. 

Yoongi can feel how close you are and, he knows it’s a matter of time before you come into his hand.  

“Does it feel good?” His voice is deep but, it’s heightening slightly to accommodate the way he coos at you; he really can’t help it. He loves seeing you like this. 

Your rapid nod fuels him to increase his speed, his tongue still working wonders on your clit. 

“Open your eyes, try and look at me jagi...” He urges, his tone growing reedier 

Of course you do as he asks and, immediately you find his gaze despite the intial haziness in your vision. 

He’s barely illuminated by the city lights streaming in through your curtains but, you can see the loving smile on his face, the arousal heavy in his eyes... 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispers, pressing his fingers into your g-spot, creating a sinful amount of pleasure inside of you. 

“Yes- yoongi...” Your moan is cut off by silence as your orgasm rears it’s head, your back beginning to arch off the bed, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Yoongi-” 

He sighs hopelessly into your pussy, the sound of his name on your lips makes him weak, “Cum jagiya. You deserve it, cum for me...” 

It’s not long before you’re sitting up, ignoring the twinkling stars in your vision as you tug your boyfriend on top of you, finding his lips immediately.  

You love that you taste yourself on him and, you take your time to kiss him deeply, showing your appreciation for the work he did between your legs. 

“You came so much.” He whispers, nudging at your nose as he takes his position back against the pillows whilst pulling you with him, “You did so good...” 

Small words of encouragement mean a lot on a day where you aren’t feeling 100% and, they cause you to smile when you tuck your face into his neck. 

“I wanna make you feel good now.” You punctuate your declaration with a kiss behind Yoongi’s ear, “Can I?” 

Yoongi tilts his head to allow you better access to his neck, his hands tightening on your hips, “Please. I missed you.” 

You smile then, kissing at his sweet spot again before a request leaves your lips, “Can I give you a hickey?” 

This causes Yoongi to snicker, relishing in the juvenile nature of such a question but, he can’t deny that he likes it when you mark him. 

“Yeah...just one though.” He warns, knowing full well how decorated his neck would become if he gave you full reign, “I have a presentation in two days.” 

You don’t have control over the pout that forms on your lips, “Just one?”

Yoongi chuckles again and licks his lips before looking down at you, his brows rising in amusement, “On my neck yeah- there are other places to mark me.”

At this, you smirk, conceding with him as you secure your lips right at his sweet spot. A few kisses are placed against his neck before sucking his skin between your teeth.

Yoongi tenses up beneath you, his hands squeezing at the fabric of your shirt whilst his eyes flutter closed.

“Fuck.” He whispers, slightly breathless, “Bite harder…”

And you do by apply more force with your teeth, your free hand trailing down his stomach to palm him through his pants. His dick is pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his sweat pants, the gray material dampened with pre-cum.

“You’re so hard.” You giggle

With a loud sigh, Yoongi speaks again, his voice deepening slightly with the onslaught of arousal, “I just ate you out- what did you expect?”

With a satisfied smile, you lean back into his lips, indulging in him for a moment.

He smirks into your mouth, pulling you onto his body so you’re straddling his hips, “You wanna ride me?” Yoongi mutters whilst his hands rest on your ass.

You’re only in your t-shirt after all and, you’re now sitting on top of his hardened dick, it would only make sense to make him cum this way.

He pulls away momentarily, lips wet with spit, eyes lulled with desire, “I really want you to.” He whispers, kissing you again, batting his pretty eye lashes for you.

Biting your lip, you push his hair back away from his forehead, trying to cope with how hot he looks right now; slightly sweaty, disheveled, horny…

You want to fuck him so bad.

“Hold onto my hips and help me, I want to go at your pace…”

He smiles softly, nodding silently, heading turning toward the speaker, “Alexa- play Withdrawn by Mello…”

Your lips bubble over with laughter as a new song starts playing but, otherwise you don’t comment on it, instead opting to lean down and kiss him once more.  

Moments later, Yoongi’s eyes are rolling back as he feels you sink down on him, his fingertips pressing hard into the flesh of your hips.

“Ugh shit-“ He breathes and, with his neck fully exposed, you can admire the violet mark on the side of his throat, a sense of pride filling your gut as you do.

Yoongi’s hands guide you up and down his length, his eyes squeezing shut once again as the feeling of you begins to overwhelm.

With tender lips, you lean down, kissing up the side of his throat, ensuring that your hips keep their pace on him, “Does it feel good?” You whisper in his ear and, he’s quick to turn towards you to tuck his face into your neck.

“Y-Yeah…please don’t stop.”

You don’t.

You ride him all the way off the deep end, kissing each of his pretty features as he cums, telling him you love him as he’s coming down.

Your orgasm is a natural occurrence when he’s inside of you  but, it wasn’t your main focus.

Sex with Yoongi isn’t transactional.

There’s too much love for that.

You’re laying on Yoongi’s chest now, your fingertips tracing shapes over the skin on his ribs, admiring the instability in his heartbeat.

“I love this.” You murmur, turning slightly to press a kiss to his chest.

“My heart?” He smirks, combing a hand through your hair.

“Mhm- it’s my favorite.” Placing another kiss to his chest, you shoot him a pointed look, “If you say anything sarcastic regarding the fact that your heart is just an organ, I will fight you.

His body shakes with laughter but, he nods regardless, opting out of being a little shit.

“How are you feeling?”

You soften, resting your chin on his chest, “So much better. Thank you for coming over.”

He pinches your cheek, “I’m here for you anytime you need me. You know that right?”

Nodding, you kiss the hand against your face, “I do.”

“Good.” He nudges against your lips, his gums peeking out with smile on his mouth when you giggle. “I love you…”

With all the warmth in the world, you snuggle up to him and, he responds by tugging the blanket over the both of you.

“I love you too.”

[elliemarchetti]

Clear As Silver Drops

It’s my birthday and I post what I want to! *sing this as Necessary Evil by Motionless in White*

To be totally honest, this is inspired by @my-darling-haldir who was asking for Haldir fic recs for her bday and I said myself why not? Why not indulge in your love for elves and mixed ocs? So here we are, with something in which Legolas isn’t with the Fellowship and in his place we have Elva, the only woman in a group otherwise made up of men only.  Enjoy!

Words: 3132

"I'm afraid we can't stay here any longer," Aragorn said, turning his gaze to the mountains, raising his sword as if he wanted to curse Gandalf for his recklessness.

“What hope do we have without him, now?” asked Frodo under his breath, talking mainly to himself.

“We’ll have to do without hope,” replied Elva, talking to the whole Fellowship. “It may be that one day at least he’ll be avenged, but for now, let’s have courage and stop mourning: we have a long way to go and a lot of things to do.”

At her words they all stood up to look around, making her weigh for the umpteenth time what her role really was in their mission. She should’ve asked Gandalf when she still had time, but now he had taken that secret to the grave and she could do nothing but find it herself. A skilled archer and an excellent diplomat, Elva felt more like she was there to act as a glue between cultures, and thus prevent those men, all with different histories and upbringing, to go one to the North, dominated by three sparkling white peaks, Celebdil, Fanuidhol and Caradhras, one to the East, where the forward-projected arms of the mountains steepened abruptly, with distant lands extending beyond, and one to the South, where the Misty Mountains stretched endlessly. 

Less than a mile away, slightly lower, as they were located at a high point on the eastern flank of the valley, they saw a lake: it was long and oval, looking like the tip of a spear stuck deep in the basin to the north, with the southern waters out of the shadows, bathed in sunlight but still dark, the deep blue of a clear night sky seen from a lighted room. The surface was calm, and all around the bare banks were covered in soft grass. The Fellowship walked the uneven and bumpy road that descended from the Gates of Moria, just a winding path among heather and twigs, sprouted between the broken stones; it still could be seen that it once meandered from the Dwarf Kingdom’s lowlands, but the broad paved street was now reduced to a ghost of itself, just like Durin’s stone.

“I can’t go on without deviating for a moment to see the wonder of the valley!” exclaimed Gimli.

“Be quick, then!” said Aragorn, checking the gates behind them. “The sun sets early, and even if the Orcs won’t come out, perhaps, sooner than dusk, we must already be very far away at sunset; it’s almost new moon, so the night will be dark.”

Elva almost cursed under her breath: if the lightless night was approaching, even her monthly blood was coming. Of all the advantages of being a half-elf, unfortunately she hadn't inherited the one of not suffering like mortal women.

“Come with me, Elva!” cried the dwarf, distracting her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you to go away without first seeing Kheled-zaram.”

For some strange reason, despite her elven half, the dwarf liked her company, and quite a lot too. Together they descended the long green slope swiftly, followed slowly by the hobbits. A brief glance into the dark waters, and back again to the road, now turning south, going down quite steep from two offshoots that embraced the basin. A little lower than the lake, they encountered a deep well of crystal clear water, from which a steam rose, flowing right after down a rocky groove.

“Thirsty as you may be, don’t drink this water,” Gimli warned. “It’s cold as ice.”

“Over there, are the woods of Lothlorien,” said Elva, pointing at a golden haze in the flat lands. “It’s the most beautiful among all the homes of my people. There are no trees like those of that land: in autumn, their leaves don’t fall but turn to gold, replaced only in spring by the new buds covering the branches with yellow flowers. Then, the soil is gold as the ceiling and the smooth and grey bark of the trees make them look like silver columns, as our songs in Mirkwood still tell. My heart would be so happy if I were among the branches of that wood and the spring smiled!”

“My heart will be happy even if it’s winter,” Aragorn said. “But many miles separate us, let’s hurry!”

For a time, Frodo and Sam managed to keep up, but the warriors advanced swiftly and soon they were left behind. When Elva noticed, she immediately told Aragorn, who, seeing them so far away, ran back on his own steps, calling Boromir to follow him. He apologized, full of disquiet.

“So many things happened today, and we’re such in a hurry that I forgot you were injured. You should’ve said something, because in silence nothing has been done to alleviate your pain. A little further on there’s a place where we can rest for a moment. Come, Boromir, let’s carry them!”

They soon encountered another stream flowing down the western slopes, confusing its gurgling waters with the swirling ones of the Silverlode, diving together from an overhand of green coloured stone and foaming down in a hollow surrounded by fir trees, low and curved, with steeps sides covered with rapeseed and blueberry bushes. They stopped at the bottom, where was a flat area crossed by the bed of shiny pebbles in which the creek flowed noisy. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they had travelled just a few miles from the Gates. The sun was already turning to west, painting a grave expression on Aragorn’s face as he cared for Frodo and Sam’s injuries.

“Lucky you” he exclaimed, to lighten up the gardener’s mood. “Many have received a worse reward for killing their first Orc. The cut isn’t poisoned, as is unfortunately the case for most wounds inflicted by their blades, so it’ll heal well.”

He then opened his saddlebag and took out some withered athelas. While fresh were more effective, the leaves would still do their work in cleaning the wound. When Frodo’s turn came, he was quite reluctant, saying he was fine and just needed some food and rest, but Aragorn persisted, and took off his old tunic and worn shirt, giving an exclamation of astonishment, which soon turned into laughter: the hobbit wore a silver coat that sparkled before their eyes like light on a choppy sea, the gems bright like stars and the tinkling of the rings producing the same sound as the first raindrops falling into a pond. If word got out that a hobbit had such a wonder, all the hunters of Middle Earth would’ve galloped towards the Shire, but all their arrows would’ve been vain before a mithril armour. Still, there was a dark blackened bruise on Frodo’s right side and one of the rings had passed through his soft leather jacket, penetrating into the flesh. While the others prepared the meal, Aragorn made more athelas water, filling the basin with its acrid fragrance. After the late lunch, the Fellowship put out the fire, erasing all traces of it, and climbed out the hollow, resuming the road. They hadn’t come far when the sun disappeared behind the western heights and great shadows crept along the sides of the mountains. Twilight veiled their feet, and a light mist glided in the depression, while far to the east, the evening lit up with its pale glow lands, plains and distant forests. Sam and Frodo managed to walk briskly and Aragorn led the Fellowship for another three hours with a single, shot break, after which the late nigh imposed her dark reign. There were several stars, but the moon waning would appear much later.

“Lothlorien!” Elva cried. “We have reached the edge of the Golden Wood!”

The trees stood imposing, arching over the road and the river that swept suddenly under their leafy branches, trunks gray in the pale starlight and leaves quivered with a touch of fallow yellow.

“We’re still too little far from the Gates, but we can’t go further. Let’s hope that the Elves virtue will protect us from the danger pursuing,” said Aragorn.

“Assuming the Elves still live here, in this darkening world,” Gimli said, joining them.

“It’s been a long time since some of my folks came back to see the land we abandoned centuries ago,” replied Elva, “but we know that Lorien is still not deserted and a secret force repels evil far from this district. Nevertheless, its inhabitants rarely show up, and perhaps now they live deep in the woods and far from the northern borders.”

Aragorn confirmed with a sigh, as if some memory in him had been awakened. “We must suffice to ourselves, for tonight. We’ll still walk a short distance, until the trees are thick around us, then we’ll leave the path to look for a place to rest.”

“There’s no other way?” asked Boromir, irresolute.

“What better way would you want?” asked Aragorn.

“A simple path, albeit flanked by a hedge of swords,” Boromir replied. “Our Fellowship has been conducted in strange ways, and all of them so far with an inauspicious outcome. Against my will we passed under the shadows of Moria, towards our perdition, and now we have to go into the Golden Woods, even if we have heard of that perilous district in Gondor, where it’s said that few of those who set foot there come out, and of these, non has been released unharmed.”

“Don’t say unharmed, but unchanged, and then your words will be truthful,” Aragon retorted. “Wisdom has certainly diminished in the city of those who were once wise if now they speak ill of Lothlorien. You may not believe me, but there’s no other way for us, unless you want to go back to the Gates or climb the mountains or swim alone along the Great River.”

“Then guide us!” agreed Boromir. “But it’s dangerous.” “Very,” Aragorn confirmed. “Beautiful and dangerous, but only the evil has to fear here.”

They walked a little over a mile into the forest when they encountered a third stream flowing rapidly from the tree-lined slopes, climbing west towards the mountains. They could hear it roar in a cascade hidden by the shadows, before the dark water crossed the path ahead of them, joining the Silverlode in a whirlwind of ponds hidden by tree roots. It was the Nimrodel, the river on which a long time ago the Silvan elves composed many song. She grew up singing them in the North, mindful of the rainbow over the waterfalls and the golden flowers floating on its foam. Everything was dark, now, and the Bridge over it collapsed, but its waters were still able to wash away any sign of fatigue, so she proposed to wade it to find on the other side a place to rest.

“The sound of falling water will perhaps bring us sleep and forgetfulness from sorrows.”

One after another, the men followed her and when they were all on the other bank, they sat down, rested and refreshed. Elva told the stores of Lothlorien, the ones the Mirkwood elves still treasured in their hearts, stories of the sun and stars on meadows along the Great River, from a time before the world turned gray. When finally silence fell, they heard the music of the waterfall that flowed smoothly in the shadows.

“Do you hear Nimrodel’s voice?” she asked. “I’ll sing you the story of a girl who was called like the river next to which she lived a long time ago. It’s a lovely song in Sylvan, but I’ll sing it in Westron for you.”

Then, with a sweet voice so faint it almost disappeared in the rustle of the leaves, she intoned the ballad of the elf with a white mantle edged with gold; she had long hair and white skin, the free girl with a voice clear like silver drops. It was evident that some of her companions thought this creature lost in the dewy mountains could’ve been her, so she sang about her lover, an elven king of trees and clearings, went away on a ship swept by the north wind.

From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing. The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore.

When Elva's voice trembled, the song ended. She said she couldn't continue because she didn't remember how it went on, but it was a lie: long and sad was the story about the doom befallen on Lothlorien when the dwarves roused evil in the mountains. She glances sideways at Gimli, who looked somewhat grateful, and quickly changed subject, proposing to camp on the trees for the night. The Fellowship left the path, entering the shadows of the forest further dense, headed west along the mountains steam and far away from the river, until they found a small group of trees with big trunks.

“I’m at home in roots and branches, but this species is unknown to me; I need to climb to see what their shape and way of growing is,” said Elva.

“Whatever they are,” replied Pippin, “they would really be wonderful if they offer a possible night’s rest to others than birds: I don’t know how to sleep perched on a hanger!”

“Then dig a ditch in the ground, if that’s more to the habits of you race,” Elva retorted, impatiently. “But you have to dig fast and in depth, if you wish to hide from the Orcs.”

Before she could do anything else, however, an authoritative voice spoke from the shadows. In amazement, she crouched frightened against the trunk.

“Stay still,” she whispered to the others. “Don’t move and don’t speak!”

A soft laugh was heard in the foliage, and another clear voice spoke in an elven language. Elva looked up and answered in the same idiom, different from the ones the western elves used.

"Who are they, and what do they say?" asked Merry.

"They're Elves," Sam replied. "Don't you hear their voices?"

"And they say you breathe so hard they could pierce your heart despite the darkness,” Elva hissed, silencing the hobbits. To be honest, there was no reason to be afraid: the elves said they’ve been long aware of their presence but they didn’t hinder the Fellowship in crossing the river since they heard her voice beyond the Nimrodel and recognized she belonged to their Nordic lineage.

“They’re begging me to go up with Frodo. It seems they’ve received news about our journey but they ask the others to be patient for a moment and guard the feet of the tree, waiting for them to decide what to do.”

At those words, a ladder was lowered from the shadows: it was made of a silver-gray sparkling cord and despite its frail appearance, it proved itself strong enough to withstand the weight of several people. Elva went up fast, while Frodo tried to persuade Sam to stay with the others. It would’ve been a wise choice, it was easy to offend her people, but the gardener was immovable and in the end they entered the flet, talan in elvish, through the circular hole open in the centre. The elf holding the ladder, the eldest, invited her to sit with his companions, two younger guards, both fully dressed in silver gray fabric, a valid help to hide among the stumps and then greeted the hobbits in a slow Common Tongue.

“It’s rare for us not to use our mother tongue, since now we live in the heart of the forest and don’t like to deal with other people. Even our own relatives in the North are divided from us, but some still go in foreign lands to gather news and watch over enemies, and therefore they speak different languages like me. My brothers Rumil and Orophin understand little of what you say, but we heard of your coming from Lord Elrond’s messengers when they passed by Lorien on their way home. From many years we no longer knew anything about your race and we didn’t think there were still any hobbit in Middle Earth. You don’t seem bad natured and since you come with an elf of our lineage, it’s with pleasure that we’ll help you, as Elrond asked us to, although is not out habit to lead strangers across our land, but you’ll have to spend the night here. How many are you?”

"Eight: me, four of them,” said Elva, alluding to the hobbits, “and two men, one being Aragorn, an elf-friend of the Westernesse folk.”

“The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lorien, and he has the benevolence of the Lady. So, everything is fine,” said Haldir. “But you have so far only named seven.”

“The eight is a dwarf,” admitted the girl, never lowering her eyes, no trace of shame in her voice. She knew that Haldir must’ve understood by now that not only elven blood ran in her veins, but he didn’t seem to care.

“This is not good: we haven’t dealt with them since the Dark Days and they’re not allowed into our country. I cannot let him pass.”

“He’s of the Lonely Mountain, one of Dain’s trusted people and friend of Lord Elrond, who has personally chosen him to be part of our Fellowship,” she explained. At her words, the three elves exchanged a long, knowing look.

“Is he perhaps your companion, milady?” Haldir asked.

“Would it make any difference on his courage and loyalty?” she asked, heedless of what some strangers might think. If she had cared about the opinion of all the souls she had met in her long life, her heart would’ve already burst with pain.

"Very well," said Rumil at last, displeased. Ignoring the fact that the hobbits didn’t understand him, he told her in Sindarin that if she and Aragorn had watched and answered for Gimli, he could’ve passed, but only blindfolded.

“Now, we mustn’t waste any more time,” Haldir resumed. “Your companions have been on the ground too long and soon in the morning you’ll have to continue your march. The hobbits will stay here with us, while you’ll remain in the other talan with the rest of the Fellowship.”

“Call if something is wrong!” he added in the end, as a farewell. Elva was halfway down the ladder when she heard one of his brothers mutter something about such a beautiful voice wasted in a terribly vulgar way, but she couldn’t understand his reply.

[getinthering]

Taang Week Day 3: Spirit World

“i believe that i know you”

tw: major character death

@taangweek Day 3: Spirit World

In the swamp, we see visions of people we’ve lost, people we’ve loved, folks we think are gone. But the swamp tells us they’re not. We’re still connected to them. Time is an illusion and so is death.

After Aang’s death, Toph leaves Republic City and their family and friends to feel closer to him.  Takes place in 153 AG, some time after Aang’s death.

Read on AO3

[A/N: I should say here and now that in pretty much every ATLA thing I create (except for Modern AU or unless otherwise stated) has Aang/Toph at 16, Katara at 18, Suki at 19, and Zuko/Sokka at 20, because writing for/as children just makes me uncomfortable idk.

This one was frustrating but fun!  I’m a big fan of bittersweet writings so here we are.  I liked Lin/Suyin’s canon dynamic too much to not hc both of them as Taang’s kids, canon Bumi is just very Dunebaby energy to begin with, and I kinda just recreated Tenzin as Tashi for my own reasons.]

She had always thought that Avatars were supposed to live exceptionally long lives.  True, Kyoshi’s age was a great exception no one expected to ever be replicated again.  That didn’t change the fact that Toph had always assumed she would have at least another decade with Aang.  

She felt lost without him now.  Neither had ever been the most present parent to their four children, despite their best hopes and efforts.  He had his Avatar duties, she was Chief of Police.  There was constant rivalry between the kids, which she supposed they both encouraged (perhaps her a little more consciously than Aang), and there was now a large chasm between her and their children.  She knew that Bumi, their first-born, had always felt neglected and left out as the only non-bender in the family, whereas Tashi, their youngest, was the only airbender and thus was taken under Aang’s wing.

Toph’s hands were most often full with their two middle daughters, Lin and Suyin.  They were both earthbenders, both two sides of the same coin, and she supposed that—combined with her stubborn Beifong blood—was the reason they had the deepest feud within the family.  She tried to give them the freedom she longed for as a child, but it only ended with her eldest daughter all but refusing to talk to her, and Toph and Aang having to send Suyin away to live with her parents.

It had been too much for her then, almost ten years ago.  She passed the title of chief of police onto Lin and decided it was time to finally spend some time with her husband.  They traveled for a while, mostly to the Air Temples to check in on his Acolytes or the Earth Kingdom where her family was.  She was proud of her husband for finally achieving all he had wanted, grateful that he had an airbending child to pass it onto.  But she was never one to simply tag along on someone else’s adventures, not even for him.  They struggled to find balance while roaming the world endlessly, just as they had as children.  

By the time they neared their mid-sixties, they had finally settled into a routine they thought they could live with throughout their retirement.  They had a home on Air Temple Island near Republic City.  The kids all had their own lives, their own stability.  Their attention was no longer divided between young children, their careers, their city, their homelands.  It was just theirs for the rest of their lives.

She never expected “the rest of their lives” to be a mere two years.

***

“Mom, that’s ridiculous, you can’t just leave.  You just settled into your retirement!” Bumi insisted over the dinner table where the three of them sat.

Toph sighed jaggedly.  Of course it had been a bad idea to tell them she was leaving.  “No, your father and I settled into our retirement,” she snapped.  “You think I want to just sit around every day by myself?  No!  I’ve spent my whole life on the road and that’s where I belong.” 

(maybe that’s a lie maybe she had been excited about settling down maybe she hated traveling at this point)

“Mom,” Tashi interjected, trying her best to remain calmer than her brother.  “If you’re lonely, you know that Jinpa and I would be more than willing to move back home to Air Temple Island.”

“I’m not lonely,” Toph protested, slamming a fist on the table perhaps too roughly.  “I didn’t have to tell you, and I wasn’t going too, but I didn’t think you’d all be silly enough to try and fight me.” 

“Thanks for that, Mom,” Bumi grumbled.

She spent the next hour fighting off her children’s arguments.  Her mind was made up a long time ago and although she would never admit it out loud, she missed Aang too much to stay anywhere near the city they had helped create.  Every corner burned with memories of him.  Their home echoed with emptiness.  There had even been nights she had bolted up, drenched in sweat, grasping the sheets begging to find him.  She could swear that she could hear him whispering to her, just quiet enough that she couldn’t make out the words.

The only memory of him she could stand to be around now was their children.  She wished desperately to have them all together, for them to be some semblance of a real family in the wake of his death.  But they were scattered—Lin in Republic City, Suyin in Zaofu, Tashi split amongst the Air Temples, Bumi traveling constantly with the United Forces.  No matter how hard she tried, there would never be a way to be connected to all of them at once.  Not here, like this, anyway.

Eventually, Tashi and Bumi accepted that there was nothing either of them could say to keep Toph in Republic City and dejectedly said their goodbyes to her before parting ways.  She kept up the stony-faced façade she had always known best while she finished packing her things, making note for most of them to be sent to her children.  She wouldn’t need them anymore.

She had told the two of them that she was simply returning to the nomadic life she and Aang had shared after her retirement from the police force.  It would be true, for a while; she had plans to visit the Earth Kingdom again, stop in Zaofu to see her grandchildren and tell Suyin of her new search for enlightenment, maybe even see her old friends one more time.

She wouldn’t tell any of them that she was really going to the Foggy Swamp.  They would only try harder to talk her out of it, tell her the swamp was dangerous for an old woman, that she was being ridiculous and irrational.  Really, she had never felt more sure of anything in her life.  Her heart belonged with her family and with Aang gone, it felt shattered.  She was desperate to put it back together before it broke her.  She knew of only one place that could make her feel connected to all of her children and Aang at once.

***

In her mind, Toph had a clear image of what she remembered from the swamp.  She had visualized her new life there over and over.  Stepping into it now, she was blindsided by a chilling feeling she could not quite place, like a wind threatening to barrel her over.

The one possibility she hadn’t allowed herself to dream now coursed through her mind as she ventured deeper into the heart of the swamp.  

(what if he’s not here what in the name of the spirits would she do with herself) 

It was not as if she could go back to her old life.  She would have nothing left to keep her afloat, no hope of ever seeing Aang in this life again.

(maybe she shouldn’t have left maybe the hope was what kept her going) 

Eventually she reached the banyan-grove tree at the heart of the swamp.  Discouragement sinking in her stomach like a rock, she leaned her back against the tree and slid to the ground.  Toph Beifong had only cried a handful of times since her young childhood.  The only person in the entire world who had ever seen her so vulnerable had, of course, been Aang.  Somehow, even from the start, he always knew when she needed him.

(which was fortunate because she would never tell him that)

He would come find her, no matter where she was, wrap his arms around and silently hold her close to his chest until the steady beat of his heart and the warmth he radiated soothed her.   She hadn’t even cried when he died, not properly.  

Now, alone in this ancient swamp, Toph let go of her strength and let herself break.  Sobs wracked her frame.  She could picture how ridiculous she must have looked: a blind, middle-aged earthbender, sitting on a mucky floor, screaming with grief like she never had before.  

She had abandoned her children, her city, her entire life to venture into the Foggy Swamp.  It was supposed to be a Spirit Wild, supposed to be the connection between the two worlds.  But it was foolish of her to believe she would find her husband here; he was the Avatar, his spirit was reborn into a new body, surely there was no reason to find any Avatar in the Spirit World..  

As she let her anguish consume her, slowly icing her to her core, she imagined that this was it for her, the end of her line.  

A flash of warmth spread throughout her right side, a faint but familiar scent wafting around her.  At once, her tears stopped and she jumped, alarmed.  Every muscle in her body tensed as the sensation gradually transformed into reassuring arms around her shoulders.  Everything clicked in her mind as she heard the voice she dreamt of every night, simply murmuring,

“Toph.” 

“Aang?  Aang, tell me it’s you, tell me this isn’t some dark spirit playing a dirty trick,” she gasped, unwilling to trust her senses.

“It’s me.  I’ve been waiting for you.” 

At that moment, she was sixteen once more, sitting side-by-side with a young monk, and she knew that she was home.

[mourningbirds1]

Which of your fics

About a million years ago I was tagged in this by the wonderful @keeper0fthestars Thank you my love 💕

Which fic did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got? None of them! I am always surprised whenever I get a nice comment or a reblog. Seriously - I literally gasp and get butterflies when anyone says something nice about my writing. 

Which fic got a better reaction than you expected?  He Is Home. I was feeling very fragile when I wrote it and I didn’t edit myself the way I normally would have. But I guess we all want to take a bath with Ezra, even if there are too many commas swimming around in the tub.. :)

Which fic is your funniest?  Don’t Look And It Won’t Hurt I feel like I scared some people away from this fic by putting an angst tag on it, but I think there are funny moments in each chapter. I really enjoyed writing the humour and I am always ridiculously happy when readers comment on the humour in that fic 🥰 

Is your darkest/angstiest?  He Is Home - but it also contains the only fluff I have written, so 🤷‍♀️

Is your absolute favourite? Don’t Look And It Won’t Hurt. 

Is your least favourite? Less The Horror Than The Grace - it’s not that I don’t like it, but I guess this is the only fic where I’m not projecting my own emotional issues onto the characters so I feel less attached to it because of that.

Which was the easiest to write? I generally find writing to be a very slow and painful process, but The Crossroads I’m Standing At poured out of me in a couple of hours. It was the first fic I posted and I think I was less self-conscious/critical about my writing than I am these days. 

Also that fic is based very closely on a real life thing that I experienced, so all the main beats of the story were already there in my head. And I have since realised that pining and unresolved sexual tension generally seem to be the things I find easiest to write. They do say you should write what you know. I guess They are right 😔

The hardest?  A Walk In The Woods. Man, smut is HARD. I worked on that fic all day every day for a week and it was agony. Two things kept me going: My beta reader @alwaysbethewest who was endlessly patient and tactful and taught me a hell of a lot; and @yespolkadotkitty who had requested the fic - there was no way I was going to let her down by abandoning it.

Which fic has your favourite line/paragraph? This changes all the time. I’m very fond of the last paragraph in A Walk In The Woods but that would be too spoilery to post here. So I’m just going to choose a couple of random passages that I like from another fic. 

This is from Chapter 3 of Don’t Look when Javi visits the ranch in Laredo:

He wakes up early every day and takes his coffee outside to watch the sun rise. The sky here seems somehow bigger and he likes the way it feels to stand beneath it in the quiet potential of the dawn. To stand still. He’ll inherit this ranch one day. Up until now he’s assumed he’ll sell it when that day comes. But maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll quit the DEA. Move out here and husband the land and the animals, and a woman, too, perhaps.

When the sun’s fully up he rides out on his favourite horse, a beautiful palomino quarter horse mare. She’s a good girl, attentive to him even on a loose rein and he takes her along the river, cuing her softly with his body and gentling her with his voice.

And this is from Chapter 1 of Don’t Look. Javi is helping a shy diner waitress get home after she had a run in with an aggressive customer. She’s had a shot of brandy for medicinal purposes and it’s gone to her head a bit, as has he:

It takes a while for her to get ready to leave because she can’t find her locker key. Eventually Javi gets tired of watching her fumble through her pockets and he jimmies the padlock.

“They teach you that in DEA school too?” she asks, pulling her jacket out of her locker.

“No, I learned that in high school. I had some close acquaintances over at the Catholic girls’ school and the Sisters locked up the dorm block at eight sharp.”

“Javi!”

“What? The girls needed me to tutor them on their Spanish conjugations. They were counting on me.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he says, helping her with her jacket. It’s a frumpy thing that her Aunt Di gave her when she was clearing out her closet and somewhere at the back of her mind she knows she should feel embarrassed about it, but she doesn’t. She feels fantastic. She’s tipsy and unselfconscious. She hasn’t had this much fun in years. A handsome man is going to drive her home.

which fic have you re-read the most? Oh god I can’t do this because I can’t resist the temptation to edit. 

Which one would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time? If you like m/m slash fic then Crossroads. If not, Don’t Look. 

the one you’re most proud of? At the risk of sounding like a broken record - Don’t Look. I am most pleased with the prose and dialogue in that fic. I’ve enjoyed the world-building in it - creating locations from scratch - the diner, pool hall and movie theatre. And creating the original characters that live in these places has been a lot of fun. 

A few readers have told me it is a comforting world/fic for them and that absolutely makes me glow with joy 🥰🥰🥰

--

I feel like lots of people have probably done this already but some no pressure tags @thirstworldproblemss @yespolkadotkitty @heatherbel @frannyzooey @songsformonkeys @filthybookworm 

[jojo-therapist]

- Bruno Bucciarati, “You Matter Too”

Ask submitted by @jettblackjunewrites​, who says “I would like to request Bruno!! I know his parent’s divorce influences how he thinks about relationships/how he cares for others. Plus just trauma tbh” 

Yes, I can agree that Bruno definitely has his fair share of trauma, such is befitting of a Jojo character. 

Feel free to submit an ask of any character you would like to see a session for! If there is no character submitted for next week, we can count on the first of many sessions for Mr. Kujo himself 

Feel free to join my discord server, where you can request and get updates on sessions! 

DISCLAIMER: I am not a licensed therapist, and this account was made for fun. 

Trigger Warning: Divorce, 

Therapist: Hello, Mr. Bucciarati. Do you know why I brought you in today? 

Bruno: Frankly, no. However, I should probably leave soon, considering the fact that the rest of my team will probably tear each other to shreds without me being there. 

Therapist: Would you say that that is a normal occurence? Do you often have to take care of what is going on with the members of your team? 

Bruno: I suppose you could say that, I’m in charge of them and otherwise, they’re going to go insane and kill each other. The last time I left them alone, Fugo stabbed Narancia and Abbacchio decided to make Giorno drink piss, and who knows what Mista was doing. Even then, I have spent my entire life taking care of the people around me. It hasn’t mattered to me if my life was on the line- it is imperative that the people I love stay alive and well, even at my own expense. 

Therapist: Bruno, darling, that mindset isn’t okay. The people you love need you to be there for them, and if you die protecting them then you won’t be there to protect them any longer. And using your own words here, but you can’t take care of them if you’re dead. 

Bruno: I suppose you’re correct, Therapist. 

Therapist: And you’ve said you’ve been doing this your entire life? Are you exaggerating, or can you explain what you mean? 

Bruno: When I was young, 7 years old, my parents got a divorce. I was given a choice on whether to stay with my mother or my father, and I chose my father, as my mother would be alright wherever she went and would most likely forget me, but that my father would have nobody but me. My mother provided good things, such as bedtime stories, but when she went to the city, if I had gone with her, I would have been abandoned by her and my father would be left alone. I gave up an education and a lavish lifestyle in the city in order to take care of my father and make sure that he would always be alright. It was important to me that he wasn’t left alone. 

Therapist: I understand. 

Bruno: My mother had promised to visit every month, but after two years she remarried and then she would only come around at Christmas to celebrate. 

Therapist: Do you feel angry with her for leaving? 

Bruno: Maybe, I don’t remember. I don’t think I let myself be too angry, I was constantly focusing on making sure that my father was alright. That was, of course, until... 

Therapist: I can see that this is difficult for you, Bruno. It is alright. I don’t know if I can convince you that in your life, you can be cared for, but in this room, you are important and you matter just as much as anyone else does. In this room, there is nobody to care for except yourself. I care about you very much and I want the best for you, Bruno. 

Bruno: Thank you, Therapist. 

Therapist: Anything else you want to tell me? 

Bruno: Yes, please. 

Therapist: Speak away 

Bruno: When I was 12, my father went out on a trip with some tourists who wanted to fish, he ended up being a witness to some kind of drug deal. They shot him... I don’t remember exactly how many times. He was rushed to the hospital and they did what they could to save his life, and in the end, he survived. I was lucky that day that he could continue to live... or maybe I wasn’t. Later that night, the men who tried to kill him went into the hospital room so that they could finish the job, so I grabbed their own knives and stabbed them. After that, I joined Passione. They promised that we would be kept safe if I worked for them, so I didn’t care what I had to do. I had to protect my father no matter what. After he died, I found that the gang I had put so much trust in had been dealing the drugs I hated so much but... at that point, 5 years in, I couldn’t leave. I had been in the life for too long. 

Therapist: You had your life stolen and turned around so many times since you were the age of 7, and you have constantly been at the forefront of protecting the people that you love even if it meant you had to lose everything that you held dear. You are so incredibly strong for a man who is only 20, and I have met many much older who didn’t have nearly the amount of emotional strength that you possess. Despite all of those things, Bruno, you still deserve to be loved and cared for the way you have loved and cared for everyone around you. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you’ve given up every good option you could have gotten just so that the people you loved would be safe. 

Bruno: I’ve lived my entire life this way, it can’t be changed.

Therapist: I know, Bruno. Which is why I told you that out there, you can be the protector and guardian of everyone around you but in here, I will care for you the way you have endlessly cared for others. 

Bruno: Alright. 

Therapist: Are you feeling alright? 

Bruno: I have to... I want to be alright for the people around me. I will remember you, Therapist. But for now, I need to get back to the team and make sure that they aren’t killing each other. Until we meet again. 

Therapist: Take care of yourself, Bruno. 

-end of session- 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #338

“i can’t decide if you’re wearing me out, or wearing me well”

Are you a fan of techno? I've gotten more into it lately, actually. I've never minded it. Who’s your favorite horror movie villain/monster? Pyramid Head, though he's called Red Pyramid Thing in the movies. Do you have a favorite muscle car? Nah. I'm not big into cars. What would be a total deal-breaker for you, relationship-wise? You so much as lift your hand at me, bye, motherfucker. Would you consider yourself to be accepting of others? Yes, but not as much as I used to be. There are certain opinions I just don't tolerate in people anymore; I feel like by staying associated with people whose views invalidate or in any way harm others (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.), you're on the side of evil as well, even if indirectly. However, I genuinely do feel I have a wide range of viewpoints I'm willing to accept in others, even if I don't agree with them. Are you flirtatious? No. I think I'm only capable of flirting with someone I'm already with and very comfortable around. I'd feel way too shy and awkward otherwise. Have you ever just felt "drawn" to someone, but you didn’t know why? "Didn't know why," no. I've felt drawn to people with good reason, like if I was romantically interested in them. Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? There's a number, honestly. Especially with the aid of therapy, I'm being motivated to strengthen bonds with old friends and/or acquaintances via Facebook. Freddy or Jason? I think Jason is scarier. Freddy tends to come across as cheesy for me. Have stickers or gems on your cell phone? Nah. Ever teased your hair? Bitch I damn well tried in high school because I wanted the ~ l e g i t ~ emo hair, but mine was just too heavy to hold, at least with the hairspray my sister had. Have any friends with benefits? Nah, that's never been my thing. Ever lost of bunch of valuable information? Ummm I don't believe so. I've lost massive RP posts before, but I can't really call those "valuable information." What drinks or food make you hyper? None, really. Most expensive thing you ever bought? With my own money, my snake. She's a champagne morph ball python. What type of toothpaste do you use? Crest. How much time to spend putting on makeup daily? Zero. When listening to a song, what do you listen for (lyrics, bass, beat, ect)? The beat, more than anything else. What is the color of your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. What is your favorite color(s) of eye-makeup? Black. Just black. Are you sexually active? I'm not. Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Are you attracted to several guys atm? I'm actually not attracted to any guys in my personal life atm. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Excluding the one I don't know, I have three older sisters. Favorite song by Owl City? Probably "Hot Air Balloon," but I don't know many at all. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you truly understand the (LDS) Mormon religion? I don't know what "LDS" means, but as my former best friend developed into a Mormon, I learned some stuff from her in her self-discovery. I don't remember a lot of it, not that I knew all that much in the first place. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? Ugh, Mom's unmovable about it being in my fucking room for some reason. And we have an extra goddamn room no one uses yet. Roman's shit STINKS, like we think something might actually be wrong, but nope, it has to stay in here. e_e It would literally inconvenience nobody if we moved it in the spare room. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? MUCH lighter. He's very tan. Do you like apricots? No. Solid soap bar or liquid body wash? 100% body wash. Bar soap slips so easily, and as someone who lives with another person, I'm not rubbing my body with the same bar my mother uses, no offense to her. Sharing it's just gross. Where do you live (country or state)? Shitty 'ole North Carolina. Do you use plastic, wooden, or wire hangers? I think we have a mix of them, actually. What is your favorite shade of yellow? I only like pastel yellow. Otherwise, it's one of my least favorite colors. Are there any shades of blue that you don’t like? If so, which ones? Ehhh not really. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? God, can I please have a stable career by then. Who has the best decorated house in your town? I don't know. We live in a cul de sac community thing where it's just houses next to houses, so there's a lot to choose from. I don't pay attention to them. What is your favorite part of Halloween? The decorations. Do you feel a connection to the moon? "As above, so below," as the saying goes. What does your heart long for? Peace and contentness with myself. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year, I didn't. I do want to this year, though, if I can just think of a really good idea. I have to be motivated. What are some fall activities you would do with your kids? I'm not having kids, but I'll follow along, hypothetically. With how much joy Halloween brought me as a kid, I'd want to do SO much as a family with them. Homemade decorations, carving or painting pumpkins together, and hell yeah I'd be taking them trick-or-treating once I felt they were ready and they wanted to. I'd be one of those parents that probably spends too much on whatever costumes they want, haha... Oh, and then besides Halloween, I'd certainly rake leaf piles together for them to jump and play in. This question has brought to mind like ONE thing I could enjoy as a parent, haha. Have you ever seen a fox? I have; besides in a zoo setting, I've seen one or two in the wild run out of sight, and I also found one poor fellow as roadkill that had been disemboweled by I'm assuming vultures. With my whole roadkill photography thing, I literally almost kneeled into a strand of intestines I didn't see at first. :x What color are the squirrels where you live? We only have brown ones. Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? lol no What do the trees look like where you live? Lots, and lots, and LOTS of pine trees... There are others, but I'm not well-informed on tree species and such. Oh, then of course there are dogwoods (our "state tree"), which are unmistakable because they smell like fucking manure. What is your dream vacation? Maybe the mountains on the western side of NC during the fall... ugh, that would be breathtaking. We actually have an abandoned The Wizard of Oz-themed park around there that allows tours at certain times of the year, and I'd love to visit and photograph there. As well, western NC has the zoo, which would be spectacular to visit with autumn weather and, once again, load up on photos. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I LOVED field trips. Do you find museums boring or interesting? Very interesting! Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all for that. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? Historically, larger doses of Klonopin can knock me the fuck out. Do you like bath bombs? Never used one, because I don't do baths. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? I'm going to guesstimate you mean less than 1M subs as "small," because I really don't know what you consider to fit that description. I watch a lot of people with less than 1M, so it's hard to say, but lately it's probably been a let's player John Wolfe. He's really funny. Then there's some tarantula YouTubers, along with the animal educator Emzotic... and really just many others. I think most of the people I watch actually have sub-1M, but more than 500k. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier is absolutely, positively #1. I also really enjoy Snake Discovery, GameGrumps, Jeffree Star (don't judge me ok, he's a fuckin hoot), and while I haven't watched them in years, Good Mythical Morning will ALWAYS be deeply, deeeeply embedded in my heart. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Ummm probably the Spice Girls? Have you ever used an outhouse? Ugh, yes, at old childhood sports games. What was the last good cause you donated towards? When I cut off like 8+ inches of hair to accomplish the style I have now, I donated it to Children With Hair Loss. My hair has always been mega-thick and healthy, so why in the world waste it? One of my most cherished items is the certificate I got in return many months later that my donation had been used. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? I haven't had contact with Juan in many years, don't know what Tyler's up to either, and I haven't spoken to Jason since 2017, so. I'm very doubtful he's married or has kids yet, though, just knowing him and how "I need to be fully prepared for this" he is with big life stuff like that. Does it bother you when people get super emotional? Not at all. I'll do my all to comfort them. Have you ever worked in a restaurant? No. Do you get a lot of thunderstorms where you live? Depends on the time of year. Summertime? Brief but super intense thunderstorms every late afternoon. What was the last drive-thru you went through? Taco Bell w/ Mom. Do you know anyone who claims they can see/feel spirits or other supernatural ‘things?’ No. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression, and Mom is also convinced Dad has either depression masked as anger and/or bipolarity, but following the divorce, I don't see it in him at all. He's never seen a doctor in that field to be diagnosed with any mental illness. What fun things are there to do where you live? Jackshit. Do you know anyone with a really poorly-trained dog? Mother of fucking god, yes. My little sister lives with her best friend, and said friend has a colossal black lab named Hudson that is absolutely uncontrollable because she neglects the shit out of him. Won't listen to you even if it saved his life. He jumps on you, barks endlessly, and if he escapes the house? Good fucking luck getting him inside. She has absolutely no right to own a dog with how shitty of an owner she honestly is. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? They owned it. The idiots who were moving in after us accidentally burnt the place to a fucking crisp, and my parents were SO not happy to lose that house because people were dumb enough to place boxes atop the goddamn stove. Do you do meal-prepping? No. Do you know anyone who got preggo less than a year into their relationship? Multiple people, not that that's my business. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember it clearly, other than I was with Jason and his mother was also present. What's the biggest age difference you've ever had in a relationship? That would have been with Juan, but I don't remember exactly how old he was. I just know I was a freshman and him a senior that got held back a year or so in HS. If you could save one animal from ever becoming extinct, what animal would you pick? Probably bees, given how vital they are. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. My maternal grandmother worked at Disney World. I can't remember what her position was, though. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? If I want a healthy snack, sometimes I'll have a scoop. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? They need to be loose. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? This big painting of meerkats grooming on burlap I did in high school. Do you always wear a bra? I question the self-love of anyone who can sleep with a bra on. ;__; Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Oh yes, I can't read more than one at a time. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? The normal book. Do you know how to play chess? I don't. Are you watching anything? No, but I do have Manson's "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" on in another tab. What is your blood type? A-. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you and never returned it? Yes. Do you twitch when you're falling asleep? Dude, I more than "twitch." I can just suddenly spaz out and look like I'm seizing for a moment. Another side effect of my nightmare suppressant medication. Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? My mom has bought me a few, and Jason gave me one for one of our anniversaries. Where was the last place you took a bath/shower, other than your own house? My sister's place. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? Just how unique and happy that way she is. And her pretty much undying loyalty. Has someone ever taken a pic of you while you were making out with someone? No, considering I wouldn't go that far with someone unless we were alone. Had a crush on someone you thought shared your sexuality, turns out didn’t? Yes. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Does it gross you out if a guy has hair on his chest? I personally don't find an excess of it attractive, but it doesn't "gross me out." If they bathe themselves just like everyone else, why should it? Do you think sexuality is a choice or not? It is absolutely not a choice. If it was, I'd assume most people would choose to be straight, given phobias, hatecrimes, etc... I could write an essay on this. Do you like industrial piercings? Yeah. Do you think stretched ears are disgusting? "Disgusting" is, once again, the wrong word. Gauges don't really gross me out - hell, I want tiny ones -, but they can reach a size that, to me, is not visually appealing. Did you watch animated Barbie movies when you were little? I do remember loving Princess and the Pauper as well as the Rapunzel one; my sister was addicted to them. Oh yeah! Then there was the Swan Lake one that she adored, too. We usually watched movies together. Do you like fruit in your cereal? Big No. Do you like raw vegetables? Ugh, no. Do you listen to A Day to Remember? I do! They're on my list of faves. Do you like funnel cake? I actually don't. Have you ever been with someone while they were getting a tattoo? Yuh.

[graphicabyss]

?人 NEWS

I wrote an enormous post, or rather an essay, concerning NEWS, Tegoshi, and everything that went through my mind in the past month. Honestly, it’s mostly my way of coping, getting it out of my system and sorting out my thoughts and feelings. But I decided to also post it here for those who might want to read.

It was a long time coming. The rumours were lurking around for years and a month ago they bloomed. And yet, the full realization is yet to dawn on me. When something devastating happens, our mind tends to shake off the pain by either exonerating the beloved person who hurt us, or blaming them and distancing away from them. It's really hard to stay objective. But I'll try.

Coming into this fandom, I prepared myself for disappointment. Once I was a TVXQ fan. You know, the 5-nin TVXQ that was going to be "together forever" and all that. So I wowed never to get that invested in a pop band. When NEWS came along, I tried not to get too attached. I knew it would hurt me, sooner of later. And for awhile, it worked. But, as years went by, I knew I lost the battle. We humans need to cling to something. Thus, nearly 7 years have passed.

To me, Tegoshi has always been a key component. He was the one that led me to NEWS. Or rather, how pretty he looked in a dress. Tegoshi always kept me interested. Sometimes he excited, sometimes he annoyed, but he was never ever boring. He was made of contradictions, both in words and in actions. Nothing ever adds up with him. He made me want to understand him but I could never quite grasp it. Thinking about it now, perhaps it was because he doesn't really understand himself either.

In these years, I had several crisis points where I considered leaving the fandom, all caused by something shitty Tegoshi said or did. But every time I bounced back. Of course, I didn't do it for him. I did it for myself. However, his selfishness has always been offset by his kindness. The last time was him crying at the end of Neverland tour and how sorry he looked. Till the end, I wanted to believe that his common sense and loyalty won't let him do something reckless and stupid. Yet, here we are. The interview he gave to Bunshun led me to believe that he would do the right thing. He said he would show his gratitude to JE and would definitely make his fans happy but now it's the furthest thing from the truth. The fandom is disappointed, confused, angry.

Some people say to get over it, that Tegoshi was meant to leave or some shit. But I think those people fundamentally misunderstand the heart of the problem. It's not that he left that infuriated the fandom. It's how and when he left. Most fans would support his decision to leave if the transition was done properly. He owed us that much. A proper apology. A proper gratitude. A proper farewell. The announcement had me in disbelief. I expected him to at least finish the contract, do the Story Tour, no matter how long it takes, and show the members, staff and the fans the respect they deserve. To cut it short feels like a violation. At the very least, we need a closure. The last goodbye. The last concert. The last something. He just left JE after 17 years like it was nothing.

More than anything, what he did seems so stupid. He had it so fucking good. He was always in the spotlight, both on stage and in TV shows. The other members did most of the offscreen work allowing him to shine. He was supported by endlessly patient members and staff. He had the freedom to choose and all the work he wanted for each of his passions - ItteQ, Soccer Earth, OpenRec. And he had fans that always supported him, no matter how many scandals he had.

What was so important that he had to give up on all the amazing benefits he had? To betray all this trust? And on top of it, at a time like this? When all world is going through so much shit? When the fans need moral support more than ever? What were the "dreams" that he talked about?

The ability to rant on Twitter? Making duckface selfies? Fucking around? Assembling a shitty rock band? Performing with strippers? Some kind of unique business opportunity? He talked for years about wanting to perform overseas or hosting fan events but right now these things are offlimit anyway. Why couldn't he at the very least explain his decision properly? Just that alone will definitely hurt his further career in the long run. The press-conference lasted 2 hours but it answered none of the questions that really mattered and there was no remorse. Though at this point, I can't trust anything he says anyway. He created his Twitter account the the evening it all went down and didn't bother explaining himself. He just jumped off the ship and let other people deal with the damage.

Even now, it all seems like some kind of bad dream. Then again, all of the 2020 does.

When I first saw "手越退社" trending on Twitter back in May I felt like I was spinning into a downward spiral, like all air was sucked out of me. And it wasn't the "oh, no! what will the band do?" I never went to a NEWS concert and never brought any merch. To me, it wasn't really the feelings of a fan whose band faces a crisis but rather that of an entrepreneur who invested too much money into one asset and watched it plummet.

Fandom stuff is a currency that can devalue in a blink of an eye. Its valuable as long as its core message is intact. This is why I can't stand people being petty over scans or videos. I share when I can knowing it will make someone happy because I know that tomorrow that someone might move on. When I stumble upon old closed journals with password-protected downloads they feel like ancient abandoned temples. The treasures in them turned to dust.

4nin NEWS were based on unity, the combination of 4 unique characters. Four components, each of them essential. Now that concept failed. It's like standing in front of a collapsed building. I try to assess the damage. How much of it can I salvage? Repurpose? How much is lost and needs to be cleaned up? Should I even bother?

What do I do with hundreds of live performances and TV shows, in HD, lovingly downloaded and stored?

What to make of thousands of scans, magazines, pamphlets, almost each image edited and sorted? Thousands more stored neatly in folders, waiting to be posted. Countless screens and gifs.

What of the member ai fanvideos that gained over 100k on Youtube bringing joy to so many people? I already got the first heartbroken comment saying "we won't ever see them like that again, will we?"

What to make of my unfinished stories? Honestly, it's one of the things I'm most proud in my entire life. Now their future is uncertain.

Do I take down the poster on my wall? The CDs on my shelf? Soon I will have to looks at my enormous stash and decide for each item. Things that once brought joy now cause pain.

NEWS weren't selling music, they were selling ideas and dreams. The cute band photos now cause hurt and anger. The uplifting songs about unity won't be convincing. All the concerts lost their charm.

Am I being too dramatic? Probably. Perhaps the issue itself may seem trivial to an outsider but our grief is real.

Tegoshi keeps saying he loves NEWS and adores the members. But to me, loving is doing everything you can to avoid hurting the ones you love. Perhaps he means it, but that love will never compare to the love he has for himself. Despite what he says, I doubt we'll even see them together again and I'm not even sure I want to. I knew apart from Koyashige, the members aren't really that close personally. Tegoshi is shallow and seeks popularity more than anything. I'm sure than now he'll hang out with even shadier characters than before. The members used to provide him with the much needed tough love. Now, with nothing and noone holding him back, he'll give in to his overblown ego.

I'm not sure how I feel about NEWS continuing as 3. I mean, I support their decision and that's probably what most fans want but to me, I don't know if it'll work out that well. They were already a band with a lot of luggage and now, just like in 2011, they are a band that induces pity. They would have to rearrange so much to try and fill this huge gaping hole. Not to mention they will struggle vocally. No songs, no choreography can be unaltered. It might be better to go on within the agency doing their own things. But then that would just mean Tegoshi was indispensable and all the work they put in will be wasted. The Story must be competed.

In the past week I went through various stages of grief. The anger was strong and so was disbelief. Now it's finally subsiding, giving way to acceptance. It won't come soon but I'll let all the emotions run their course. The fact is Tegoshi remains very entertaining and the temptation to keep following him and rant about him is strong. I probably wouldn't even fight it if he were to leave with at least a shred of dignity. But with the way things are, I refuse to support him in any way. And I will at least try to phase him out as much as I can as I realize that even my anger is playing into his hands as he wants nothing more than attention, good or bad. Instead, I'll try to focus on those who do deserve support.

I'm not yet sure how to proceed with the blog and everything else but I'll take my time and figure it out. The truth is Tegoshi was one of the two major things that have kept me here for so long. And no, the second reason is not Shige. It's the people. Out of all the fandoms I've been in over the years this one really felt like home. I met so many amazing people here, even though many of them have since moved on. I felt accepted and appreciated.

This week has been an emotional roller-coaster. But today I feel fine. I have a dozen reasons to be depressed. But I'm not miserable right now because of the fandom. I've had about 10 people write to me within several days. Some of them I haven't talked to in months, some I've never talked to before, and some from other fandoms. They reached out to share their thoughts and feelings, and I appreciate it so much. I felt less alone. I felt a sense of solidarity, a sisterhood. Many agreed with me and it was touching but even more touching were the people who didn't necessarily agree with me and still wanted to hear what I had to say.

Perhaps it's patronizing but I feel like right now the best I can do is stay connected and go through this together. If I can help others, through informing, making someone smile, or supporting emotionally, it's all worth it.

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter Five

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: self-harm, kissing, food, crying

Words: 1,229

Summary: Remus and Logan have a day out.

     “God, we really need to go on more proper dates.”

“Preferably ones that aren’t as expensive as this restaurant,” Logan commented, studying the menu.

“There’s some cheaper places, plus places like lakes and abandoned buildings that don’t cost anything. How cool does a picnic in an abandoned building sound? Once I got a bunch of people to come with me, and my brother Roman-”

“Roman’s your brother? I fucking fell in love with one of my best friend’s brother?”

“You know him? You?”

“Since seventh grade.”

“I started dating someone who’s friends with my brother. If I learned that when we first met, I would’ve probably stopped talking to you that exact moment.”

“Well, you don’t talk about him very much.”

“...Yeah,” Remus leaned back in his seat, looking away, “he doesn’t like me very much.”

“My brother’s not much of a fan of me either. Well, he makes sure I know he loves me, but that’s mostly just his personality. I think he thinks I don’t talk about my feelings enough. No shit, Patton.”

Remus chuckled, sipping his water before glaring at it and shaking a bit of salt in it. He swished it around before noticing the look on Logan’s face.

“What? It’s supposed to help with digestion.”

“I know, but… well, if it tastes drinkable to you, I suppose it’s worth it.”

“So why are you friends with my brother?”

“I- I don’t know, Remus. Virgil liked him, and so does Patton. Although they all seem to prefer talking to my brother at this point.”

“Talk to whoever you want, then. And if Patton’s stealing your friends, you steal them right the fuck back, alright babe?”

Logan laughed, the waiter appearing from behind him, taking both of their orders. He wondered vaguely if they should’ve left by this point, considering that they were spending a good deal of their money on just the restaurant. They’d planned to go to a thrift shop afterwards, but whether it would be worth it to only be able to get a very limited amount of things, they didn’t know quite yet. Although Remus might end up changing their plans for the two of them, considering he had good reason to.

“Well, that was thoroughly disappointing.”

The meal hadn’t been worth the money, Logan decided as they exited. It hadn’t even been that expensive, Remus just hadn’t brought a lot of money and Logan didn’t have very much money to bring. He had been trying to get a proper job, not just doing odd jobs around his neighborhood and saving the little money he got for college. But he’d indulge with his boyfriend, at least once in a while.

“Next time we’ll just go to a food truck.”

“I think that’s a much better idea.”

“So, where’re we going? Unless you really wanna go to the thrift store, I think we should wait for another day. I tend to buy a lot of stuff at thrift stores. Once I found little octopus figurines. One of them broke, though.”

“...So, where else?”

Remus paused for a moment. “I realize that it also involves spending money, but we should really go to the record store.”

“I don’t think-”

“Too late, we’re going.”

Logan smiled as Remus grabbed his hand and led him down the crowded sidewalk, past shops and alleyways. The restaurant was soon far in the distance, and Logan couldn’t tell if Remus actually knew where the record shop was. Soon, though, they arrived there, stepping inside to see the stacks arranged neatly. Remus immediately began sifting through them, picking up one with a rather interesting cover and showing it to Logan.

“What do you think?”

Logan examined it more closely. “I think you don’t enjoy jazz.”

“But it looks so cool.”

Logan took it from him to put it back. “But you’re never gonna listen to it.”

“...Yeah. But most of the stuff in here I’m not gonna listen to.”

“Think a little more critically at least, though.”

Remus didn’t end up finding anything that interested him, but he did sweep up Logan in a dance to the music playing in the store. Logan tried to convince him that they were likely disturbing the other customers (especially considering that they weren’t buying anything) to which Remus replied “we’re gay, they can’t stop us.” Logan could do nothing but sigh and lean into the dance.

Before they left, though, one record did catch Logan’s eye. Remus convinced Logan to let him pay for it, likely so his boyfriend wouldn’t steal his record player again, and also so he’d have a reason to bring Logan over to his house, where Patton wouldn’t accidentally interrupt their makeout sessions.

“You wanna hang out on the docks until one of our parents calls to yell at us to come home?”

“I’d love to.”

Remus grinned, wide and excited, again pulling Logan by the hand. They steadied into a slower pace, Remus’s grip tighter than it probably should be. Logan listened to him talk endlessly about whatever came to his mind, whether it was spurred on from their surroundings or completely unrelated thoughts.

The river was quiet at this time of day. Most boaters had gone home, and few people hung around the area anyway. There was a breeze as they walked out along the wooden dock, removing their shoes to dip their feet in the water. Remus pulled his pants up to his legs, kicking around the river water. Logan hesitated.

“You don’t have to.”

Remus looked towards his boyfriend, edging his hand closer so their fingers touched. Logan stared at his bent knees, then pulled his hand away to pull them up as well. It was mostly older scars littering his legs.

“I’ve been doing better. Since I told you.”

Remus’s face immediately brightened. Most of the scars were old now, the worst ones thin strips of pink as he placed his feet in the water. Remus took Logan’s hand again, tracing the lines in his palm.

“Hey.”

Logan looked up at him, almost worried.

“I’m proud of you.”

Logan’s cheeks turned a little pink at the soft expression on Remus’s face, so genuine he could nearly believe it. Maybe he did believe it.

“And Remus?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“I think I’m gonna tell her.”

They both paused for a moment, the orange light casting a glow on their faces.

“Maybe not everything, but… I’m at least going to tell her I need therapy. I’ve known I needed help for a long time and it’s… really stupid that I’ve never properly sought it out. Now, I guess… I’m ready to help myself. And that’s partially your doing.”

Remus pulled him close, holding tight to his torso. Was he crying into Logan’s shoulder? They must be happy tears, at least, for the whispered ‘I’m proud of you’s and ‘thank you’s. It was a good feeling, knowing that he’d made Remus proud, happy. It was satisfying, like Remus feeling good that Logan was going to have the chance to get help made some of his… negative feelings fade away.

“You’re really that happy?”

“Logan, you’re- you’re gonna get help, of course I’m happy.”

“If… if it makes you that happy, I’ll keep trying until I’m okay. I’m gonna make sure I’m okay for you. If not for me, for you.”

“You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m gonna be okay.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

The Midnight Hour

Welcome to another installment of A Very Bouncey Halloween! This time we’re in the canon universe and we’re dealing with a wraith/ghost/specter. Are they technically slightly different things? Yes. Do I care? No. This is fanfiction baybee.

Is this story’s plot loosely based on the lyrics to Thriller? Hell yeah. It’s fricken bats. I love Halloween.

tw: ghosts, spooky scenarios, frightening situations

1.4k (ish) words

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Jaskier screamed in terror and alarm as soon as he was able to rip the dirty gag from between his teeth. Through a series of half-choked sobs and heaving breaths he managed to call out for his best friend, his ever-diligent guardian angel, “G-Geralt! Help m-m-me, Geralt, please!”

He scuttled backwards, sliding against the dirty marble floor as he tried to push himself to standing with his hands still tied in front of him. The oddly masked and costumed villagers had bound him, gagged him, and tossed him rather unceremoniously through the front door of the enormous, half-rotten mansion. They had very quickly shut and locked it behind him. 

“It demands a sacrifice,” they’d insisted. “Or it will not sleep.”

He managed to clamber onto his feet and wipe a little of the dust from his clothes. The house appeared to be totally void of living occupants. He took a few shaky steps forward, his heart jack-rabbiting in his chest like it might burst forth at any second and make a run for it on its own. Still, nothing stirred. The air was calm and heavy, thick with dust and years of stagnancy. 

Jaskier was breathing in terrified, desperate little pants and sobs. He couldn’t help it; he was beyond scared. He wanted Geralt by his side more than anything. Why did I have to mouth off when I did!? Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut when he’s in a bad mood instead of always trying to-

A sudden shadowy movement caught his eye from the direction of the far hallway. He took a slow, deliberate step backwards and held his bound hands in front of him like some kind of useless, trembling shield. “No, please. No, no, no.” 

Another flicker of life from the corner of his periphery.

Another swift, inky shape manifested in the darkness of the abandoned house and teased at the edges of Jaskier’s wavering vision. 

The panicked bard kept his watery eyes as wide and focused as possible while he tried to remember the things Geralt had taught him about ghosts and wraiths. Just as he was about to try for the door again, the specter of a man stepped into the foyer. His translucent body shone dimly in the pale moonlight filtering through the front window and painted him in shades of off-white and grey. Jaskier opened his mouth to scream but found his lungs to be void of air. He was too frightened to make any sound at all.

The bard tried to flee, urging his legs to move and his eyes to look away but quickly discovered that he was trapped; paralyzed by the gaze of whoever this was and frozen in place, Jaskier whimpered.

“You’re rather pretty,” the specter stated. 

“Th-thank you.”

“Because you are so pretty,” the ghost’s face morphed from that of a handsome young nobleman to that of a beast, eyes red and teeth sharp. Jaskier inhaled and nearly tripped over a piece of moth-eaten carpet. “Because you are so pretty, I shall give you the chance to run and hide. I’ll count to fifty and give you the head start. The longer you stay hidden, the longer you get to live. Sound like a deal?”

Maybe Geralt would turn around and come back for him. If he could just entertain the creature for long enough...whatever it was..

“Alright. Agreed.”

The strange monster closed its eyes and began to count, loudly and clearly. “One… Two…”

Jaskier bolted down the first available hallway and arrived in a chamber filled with various forms of statuary. This could be a good place to hide, but it would probably be the first place this creature looked. 

He scampered out of the statuary and down a small, thin passage. This probably leads to the servants’ quarters, he surmised, wiggling his way past a smashed armoire sat wedged in the middle of the hall. Jaskier thrust himself into the first random bedroom he could find and curled up at the bottom of a sturdy steamer trunk. His hands were still tied together and the rope chafed terribly at the skin of his wrists but he couldn’t be asked to give a damn under his current circumstances.

Instead, the bard regulated his breathing as well as he could and waited for the sun to rise.

---

“He’s surely dead by now,” the old woman behind the mask informed Geralt. “The wraith will have gotten him.”

“Fuck.”

---

The furious Witcher didn’t hesitate to kick the front door of the dilapidated mansion down. 

From a short distance within, he could hear a quiet voice entreating another person to cooperate. It was gritty like the grave dirt and soft like the wind through nighttime foliage: “Come out little bard, it’s time to play. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” 

The bone-deep relief Geralt felt at finding out that Jaskier was (for the moment) still alive was overwhelming. If there hadn’t been a monster to kill he would have dropped to his knees where he stood and thanked Melitele for his best friend’s well-being. 

The Witcher flew down the hallway after the wraith and followed its slow, dragging footsteps. It had easily tracked Jaskier through the mansion and Geralt found the creature bent over a trunk, tugging at the lid. The overwhelming stench of fear filled the air around them both and gave the bard’s hiding place dead away. 

“Leave the human alone and I’ll try to make this a fair fight,” Geralt snarled. His enormous shoulders filled the doorway, blocking the monster inside and giving him nowhere to go but through the Witcher. “That’s my best offer.”

“Darling Geralt!” the trunk cheered. “I’m so sorry about earlier! I’m glad you came back for me!”

“Stay put,” the Witcher demanded, lowering himself into a defensive stance as the wraith made ready to attack. “I’ll get you out when everything is safe, alright?”

“Gera-”

The creature sprang at Geralt before Jaskier could get the rest of his words out. It threw itself across the room, knocking the Witcher back out the door and into the cramped hall. Geralt thrust forward with his silver sword and slammed it into the wraith’s ribcage. The monster shuddered and screamed, falling to pieces of ash where it stood.

A quick fight.

A surprisingly easy fight for a wraith that had apparently put the villagers under thrall (or at least scared them into giving up Jaskier). 

Geralt relaxed his posture and sheathed his sword. He strode across the room to the trunk and flung the lid open. Once he was sure the bard was unharmed, he  gathered Jaskier into his arms and buried his nose within the bard’s softly curling hair. “Fuck, Jaskier. You scared me.”

“I’m s-s-s-”

“Jaskier?” 

The bard was shaking like a leaf in his arms. His eyes were red-rimmed and tears flowed endlessly down his splotchy red cheeks. Jaskier couldn’t seem to draw a firm, full breath into his lungs without sobbing it back out only a moment later. Geralt didn’t know what to do; he’d never seen the man so frightened before in his life.  

“Don’tputmedown,” the bard gasped out. “Pleasedon’tputmedown.”

“I won’t,” the Witcher frowned, sitting atop another closed trunk and settling Jaskier onto his lap. He tucked the bard’s head into the side of his neck and started rocking back and forth on instinct. After a minute or two of silence and constant, warm physical contact, Jaskier’s breathing returned to normal and he stopped sniffling. 

“I didn’t think you were going to come back for me this time,” he whispered. “Not after the argument. You’ve left me on my own for less foolish reasons in the past.”

“Can’t leave,” Geralt shrugged. “Not anymore.”

“Nothing stopped you before,” Jaskier huffed. A sharp pang of regret, guilt, and horror struck the Witcher to his very core. All the emotions people said he didn’t have came rushing to the surface as the bard’s tired, accepting tone asked: “What’s so different about this time?”

“Well, bard, this time,” Geralt said, eyes boring down into Jaskier’s. “This time I realized that I love you and I can’t just yell every time I feel like I’m being misunderstood. I need to learn to explain myself better.”

“G-Geralt?”

“I love you, Jaskier, and the thought of losing you is intolerable to me.”

“I love you too, of course, but you already knew that,” the bard laughed in shock. “Of course this is the ghost, right? This is a trick of the light? I’m having a fear-based hallucination and your eyes are about to become spiders, right?”

“I hope not,” Geralt frowned. “That would hurt.”

“Oh my gods,” the bard’s anxious frown transformed into a bright, giddy grin right before Geralt’s eyes. The Witcher wondered how anyone could feel so much so quickly, but Jaskier proved it possible every single day. “Oh, Geralt!”

“I would kiss you now, but I’d rather get out of here, first.”

“Sounds good,” Jaskier nodded. “Also, do you mind untying my hands?”

[unfolded73]

How Do We Get Back (10/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rated explicit. This chapter 4.4k words.  (ao3)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Finally a familiar setting makes an appearance... (again, all text below the cut due to story spoilers)

_____________________________________

Chapter 10

While he didn’t have a lot of experience in his life doing walks of shame, Patrick felt like going downstairs in the Rose house the morning after Alexis’ funeral in yesterday’s clothes would have to rank as pretty bad on anyone’s list. He’d left his luggage in the car, so he pulled his wrinkled shirt and pants back on and snuck down the spiral staircase. The goal was to find someone to ask where his car was so that he could get his toothbrush and a change of clothes.

Fortunately, the Rose family didn’t seem to be awake, and a nice woman in the kitchen showed him where to go to get into his car. He was back upstairs and in the shower before David had even woken up, although by the time Patrick had shaved and dressed and brushed his teeth, David had started to stir.

“God, I slept for twelve hours,” David said, looking at his phone.

“You probably needed it.”

“I don’t know how I would have gotten through yesterday if you hadn’t come,” David said. “So thank you.” He got out of bed and pulled a pair of sweatpants out of his armoire.

“You’re welcome.”

“And listen, if in the cold light of morning, you regret asking me to come home with you—”

“I don’t regret asking you to come home with me,” Patrick said, his hands going into his pockets. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No,” David said, rocking on his heels as they regarded each other across the room. David finally broke the tension, moving past Patrick into the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush. “So did you have a return flight booked already?”

Patrick nodded “Yeah, for tomorrow? I wasn’t really sure, I thought about booking it for today, but—”

“No, tomorrow works. I’ll see if I can get a seat on the same flight.”

“You know, David, I flew economy.”

David’s head whipped around and he grimaced in the midst of brushing his teeth, making a drop of toothpaste foam run down his chin. “I’ll also see if I can upgrade you.”

When they ventured downstairs to get something to eat, David’s father was sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a photo album. Patrick hadn’t gotten a good look at him the day before, so he was struck for the first time by the dramatic resemblance between father and son. They even styled their hair similarly, swept up off their foreheads, although the elder Rose’s hair was shot through with grey. He was also struck by the fact that the man was wearing a suit at such an early hour in his own kitchen. Perhaps he was one of those people who always wore a suit, no matter the occasion.

“Oh, David, I didn’t…” He paused, registering the presence of a stranger in his house. “... didn’t think you would be up so early.”

“I cried myself to sleep at seven o’clock last night,” David said, opening the refrigerator.

Since David didn’t seem inclined to introduce him, Patrick went over and held out his hand. “Hi, Mr. Rose, I’m Patrick Brewer. I’m a friend of David’s.”

“Nice to meet you, Patrick.” Johnny Rose stood up and took Patrick’s hand; his handshake was firm as he looked back and forth between Patrick and David, probably trying to figure out what ‘friend’ meant.

“It was a lovely service yesterday,” Patrick said, automatically shifting into politeness. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Patrick figured he’d probably been told ‘sorry for your loss’ enough to last several lifetimes, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“Ah, well, thank you. Did you know Alexis?”

“I only met her once,” Patrick said.

David pulled a large, half-eaten fruit tray out of the refrigerator, presumably leftover from yesterday, and began picking through it. “I’m going to go out of town for a few days,” David announced with a suddenness that made Patrick wince.

“What, now? Why?” Johnny said.

“I need to get out of this house. I need to get out of New York.”

“David, you can’t just abandon your family when you’re needed! Your mother, in particular, needs you to be here.”

“Okay, my mother was on so many pills yesterday at the funeral that I’m not convinced she even knew I was there,” David said, meeting his father’s anger with a wellspring of his own. “And look, I get it: I’m tempted to swallow half a pharmacy and wash it down with a liter of vodka right now too. Which is part of the reason that I need to get away from here. Just for a week or so.”

Patrick hadn’t realized any of that, and he felt a surge of sympathy for David that nearly brought him to his knees. He was also aware that this was a private family interaction that he definitely shouldn’t be witnessing, so he tried to shrink back against the wall and be as unobtrusive as possible.

Johnny sank back down into his chair, the fight drained out of him. “Okay, David, if that’s what you need. Where are you going?”

David turned to Patrick. “Where are we going?”

“Umm, it’s a town called Oak Grove. It’s about four and a half hours northwest of Toronto.”

“Four and a half hours!” David said, looking annoyed by that fact.

“Second thoughts?” Patrick asked him.

David tried and failed not to smile. “No. Just reconsidering my playlist for the trip, that’s all.”

Johnny was scrutinizing Patrick now, probably upgrading him from ‘friend’ to ‘man who is stealing my son away from me at the worst possible time.’ “And what’s there?” Johnny asked.

Patrick laughed uncomfortably. “Nothing. It’s my home.”

“It’s a quiet place where I can deal with stuff,” David said. “Okay?”

“You need to talk to your mother before you go, at least,” Johnny said, resigned.

“I will,” David snapped. “You and Mom could do the same thing, you know. Get away somewhere. You don’t have to stay here in this house that’s filled with memories of Alexis as a little girl.”

Johnny looked at David with sad eyes. “The memories are a comfort to me right now. You may want to forget, David, but right now, all I can bear to do is remember.”

~*~

“I’m leaving for the airport in half an hour!” David called to his mother through her locked bedroom door. He’d been busy the day before, dragging Patrick with him into the city to collect his personal belongings from the gallery (the realtor was going to be showing it to prospective tenants the following week, he’d been told) and to get some clothes and books that he wanted from his apartment. Having Patrick with him through that whole process, it helped. Particularly at the gallery, where Patrick kept up a steady stream of gentle teasing about the art which probably should have pissed David off, but it helped put everything in perspective as he locked up and walked away from that space for what was probably the last time.

It would have been easier to just spend the night at his apartment in Chelsea and get an Uber to the airport the following morning, but he still hadn’t spoken to his mother and he felt like he owed her that before he left town. So they went all the way back to the house even though it meant getting up even earlier to make it to JFK in time to board their flight. And then Moira refused to make an appearance all evening, making the whole trip pointless.

Finally now, when David was bleary-eyed from too little sleep (he’d shared his bed with Patrick again, but his lack of sleep stemmed from nightmares and not from anything remotely sexual), Moira opened the door.

“You’re leaving,” she said flatly, her eyes accusing him.

“For a few days, yes. Just to get my head together.”

“And who is this man that your father tells me you’re traveling with? What right does he have to abscond with you in the family’s hour of need?”

David was grateful that Patrick was already outside, packing the rental car. “He’s a friend who traveled a very long way to be with me when he heard what happened to Alexis. He’s the only person in my life who offered to do something like that for me. The only one, and I…” David felt tears rising to the surface again, and he didn’t want to cry right now. He was so tired of crying. “I don’t know why, but I need this. You and Dad have each other, and I need this.”

“You can’t escape grief by running, David,” she said, suddenly more lucid than he’d seen her all week.

“I can try.”

~*~

JFK was a crazy place at the best of times, with its security lines doubling back on themselves endlessly, an entire cross-section of America packed into the rows. Then came the infinitely long concourses, bright yellow lighted signage casting a sickly pallor over everything, people movers broken up at regular intervals that made it impossible to adjust to the speed at which the stores on either side rushed by: slow-fast-slow-fast.

Today it was crazier than usual.

Literal hare krishnas had accosted them between the rental car return and the departures level, trying to shove flowers and pamphlets into their hands, and David couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen that happen in real life or if it was just something he knew about from movies. Patrick apologized for refusing what they were offering as he and David dodged them, their rolling suitcases clacking over the floor.

Then, weirder still, there were protesters (he assumed they were protesters, but he honestly wasn’t sure) being arrested en masse in the check-in area; at least two dozen men and women on their knees, surrounded by police, white zip-tie restraints around their wrists.

“What the hell is going on?” David asked.

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked at the news in days,” Patrick said, concern evident on his face.

While he stood at the ticket counter and waited for Patrick to check them in, David opened twitter, searching ‘airport protest’ ‘JFK protest’ and ‘#JFK’, only pausing to hand over his passport when Patrick nudged him and asked for it. Twitter told him nothing useful, so next David tried scrolling through the news, looking for some clue about what was happening. He noticed a story that indicated LAX had been shut down the day before, but before he could click on it, Patrick was steering him away from the counter. David liked how Patrick was taking control of everything. Airports made him anxious under the best of circumstances, and all of this weirdness and his exhaustion was making it worse.

“Where are you going?” Patrick asked when David started to get into the TSA precheck line.

David frowned at him. “Going through security.” Duh.

Patrick was looking at the board passes. “You don’t have precheck.”

“Uhhh, yes I do. I have Global Entry.”

“Maybe it expired,” Patrick said, steering him into the regular security line.

By the time David had endured the indignity of being forced to remove his shoes and letting his socks touch the airport floor, the protesters were forgotten. At least he’d managed to upgrade them to first class, David thought as they finally took their seats on the plane.

“I’ve never flown first class before,” Patrick said, letting his not-very-long legs stretch out as far as they would go. It was adorable, David thought.

“I mean if you have to fly commercial, it’s an absolute requirement. Although it won’t be very impressive for a flight this short. Let me take you to Japan and then you’ll see what first class really is,” David said.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “You want to take me to Japan?”

David squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back against the headrest, not answering. He was so tired. Airport anxiety and lack of sleep and grief were a toxic cocktail in his system, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to scream at a flight attendant or burst into tears in the next thirty seconds, but it was likely that one of those things was going to happen.

He felt Patrick’s fingers brush the palm of his hand and then he threaded their fingers together. “Is there anything I can get you, David?”

Oh, okay. Crying it was, then. David shook his head, eyes still closed, aware that a tear was leaking out of the corner of his eye, in full view of Patrick and everyone filing past them into economy class.

He felt Patrick’s other hand settle over their clasped ones, and Patrick didn’t say anything, he just sat there and held David’s hand. David couldn’t remember the last time anyone had held his hand, and that thought made more tears flow.

“I’m sorry,” David whispered, because he knew he was being embarrassing.

“How about we put a moratorium right now on you apologizing for expressing sadness. Okay?”

David nodded, wiping at his eyes. “Okay.”

~*~

“So this is your car,” David said, standing in the Toronto airport’s remote parking lot, aware that his lip was curling with disdain at Patrick’s sensible Toyota.

“Yep,” Patrick said, muscling David’s suitcase into the trunk. “What did you expect?”

David sighed. “This. I expected this.”

He settled into the passenger seat and closed his eyes, trying to reclaim the fitful sleep he’d found on the plane, but his eyes kept popping open. Shifting around to try to get comfortable, David looked over and watched Patrick maneuver them onto the highway for what was evidently going to be a long drive. “What was it like, growing up so far away from the nearest airport?” David asked.

“Well, there’s Sudbury Airport, but it’s expensive to fly anywhere from there—”

“I meant so far from an international airport,” David said. He still hadn’t really wrapped his head around the fact that when Patrick said a thing was expensive, it meant something very different than when David said something was expensive.

Patrick shrugged. “I didn’t really travel much, so it wasn’t something I thought about.”

Shaking his head, David shut his eyes again. “We’re so different,” he whispered.

He must have fallen asleep after all, because the next thing he knew, the car was stopped. The driver’s seat was empty, but he could see Patrick standing beside the car, filling it with gas. His sleeves were pushed up, and the sight of his bare forearm through the window made a frisson of desire shoot up David’s spine.

Patrick got back in the car and cranked the engine.

“Where are we?” David asked.

“Elmdale.”

“I’ve never heard of any of these places. I think you’re making them up.” David huffed. “Where’s Elmdale?”

Patrick smirked at him. “It’s about a half hour from Schitt’s Creek.”

“Now I know you’re making them up.”

Laughing, Patrick put the car in gear. “I lived in Schitt’s Creek for six months. I assure you, it’s real.”

“Why on earth would you live in a place called…” David trailed off, the name poised behind his teeth. It was triggering a long buried memory.

“Schitt’s Creek?” Patrick supplied.

“Yeah, no… sorry, it just reminded me of something my dad did when I was a kid. Said he’d bought me a town with a disgusting name like that.”

Patrick’s eyes were wide, although he was carefully watching the road as he drove out of the gas station parking lot. “Your dad bought you a town?”

“I don’t think he actually bought the town. It was a dumb joke.”

“Okay.”

“I’m hungry,” David said. “Let’s go see this shitty creek place where you used to live and get some food.”

“There’s better food here in Elmdale,” Patrick said, signaling a left turn.

“I want to see where you lived when you ran away from the heterosexual prison of your childhood.”

“It wasn’t a— Why?”

David threw his hands up. “I don’t know!” He didn’t know. He just had a sudden feeling that it was important. “Is it in the wrong direction?”

“Kind of. Not, like, the opposite direction, but it will make the trip longer.”

“Does Schitt’s Creek have a restaurant?”

“It has a café where the food is moderately edible,” Patrick said, stopping at a stop light. “You really want to go there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, his voice pitched high on the word. He switched his turn signal off and when the light changed, drove straight through the intersection.

When David got bored with the repetitive landscape of trees and farmland, he pulled out his phone, opening Instagram. It took a few seconds of scrolling before he realized he was looking for an update from Alexis. She’d called it proof of life once, he remembered, posting a selfie so that David would be reassured that she was safe.

He went to her Instagram and scrolled through the pictures. He wondered if he should try to have her accounts taken down, or if it was better to leave them up until the companies behind them went under, a monument to the life of Alexis Rose.

“Since we’re here, I should show you the town sign,” Patrick said, the car slowing down as he pulled over on the side of the road.

David shut his phone screen off and looked up. “The what?”

“Come on,” Patrick said, taking off his seat belt and getting out of the car. Uncertain what was happening, David did the same, and looked up.

“Oh my God.”

Patrick chuckled. “I know.”

“Oh my God.”

“I never found out what the story was behind this, and at this point I think I prefer not knowing.” Patrick reached his arms up over his head and stretched, twisting his torso back and forth.

“‘Where everyone fits in’? The slogan makes it so much worse.” He stared at the woman who was bent over in the picture, holding a bucket over the stream she and the man were wading in. She certainly seemed happy, and not at all put out by being fucked in the ass by the guy behind her, as it appeared was happening in this insane painting.

“I heard kids drive here from all over to get pictures with the sign. So maybe it’s good for local businesses.”

“But at what cost?” David said, kicking at loose gravel as he stood next to Patrick’s car. Then he shuddered, a full body shudder that took him by surprise. Someone just walked over your grave, mijo, Adelina used to say.

“You okay?” Patrick asked.

David held his hand out and touched the tall grass that had grown at the side of the road, dry and dormant from the receding winter. Sunshine hit each rustling blade, making each of them individually glow, too perfectly yellow to be real.

“David?”

“Yeah.” He withdrew his hand. “This place feels… do you feel it? Too real. Hyperreal.”

“Hyperreal?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Magical. It feels magical.” And then he blushed, because that was a very stupid thing to say.

“Maybe that’s why people like the sign,” Patrick said, teasing him.

David didn’t mind being teased. “Maybe if I go up and touch the sign, I’ll be transported to another time in history.”

Patrick laughed. “Oh man, Rachel loves that show.”

“She is correct,” David said, trying not to think too hard about Patrick’s sexually frustrated wife getting what little satisfaction she could out of watching Outlander. He shook himself to dispel his little flight of fancy; he probably just wasn’t used to seeing this much nature at one time, and it was making him loopy. Opening his car door, he flopped back into his seat. “You said there was a café?”

~*~

“This is the ugliest fucking place I’ve ever seen,” David proclaimed.

Patrick stopped the car in a parking space in front of Café Tropical and got out. “Yeah, it’s not the most picturesque downtown.” He looked around at it and imagined seeing it through David’s eyes: the cracking pavement and the boarded up general store. The lack of even the smallest effort by the town’s government to clean up the trash on the side of the road or to even plant a few flowers. It was no wonder David hated it on sight. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

The café was deserted, perhaps because it was four in the afternoon — too late for lunch but too early for dinner, and perhaps because it was one of the few places left in what passed for a downtown that was still open, other than Bob’s Garage. David paused inside the door as if a hostess was going to come and seat them, but Patrick knew that wasn’t how the café worked. He made his way directly over to a booth and sat down, David following him.

Twyla emerged from the back, menus in her arms, and she stopped and exclaimed when she saw Patrick. “Patrick! I thought you moved away! What are you doing back in town?”

“Just passing through,” he said, taking one of the menus she handed him and grinning as David reacted to the size of them. “This is David Rose.”

Twyla smiled, her sunny disposition lighting up the place like always. “Nice to meet you, David. I’m Twyla, and I’ll be your server. Can I get you guys something to drink?”

“Just water for me,” Patrick said. David ordered coffee — well, first he tried to order a macchiato but when Twyla didn’t know what that was, he ordered coffee.

David gave him a horrified look. “These menus—”

“I know.”

“You lived here?”

“Yes,” Patrick said evenly, feeling self conscious. “You’re the one who wanted to come here.”

David twisted up his face and looked back down at the menu. “What’s safe to order?”

“Umm, the turkey sandwich is okay,” Patrick said.

David flipped the pages of the menu back and forth, his brow furrowed. “I’m getting the weirdest sense of déjà vu.”

“About the menu?”

He stopped fidgeting with the menu and looked around at the other booths and tables and the garishly painted walls. “About this whole place. If I didn’t know better, I would swear I’ve been here before.”

“My grandmother thought it was because Schitt’s Creek is a liminal space,” Twyla said, making David jump as she put their drinks on the table. “Are you ready to order?”

Patrick ordered the turkey sandwich. David crossed his arms over his chest. “What is a liminal space?”

“She used to say that there was usually a solid barrier between different dimensions, but that here the barrier is as thin as tissue paper. She would tell me that if I concentrated hard enough, I might be able to see a shadow of something from a parallel universe in this one.”

“Okay,” Patrick said, trying to put a stop to Twyla’s rambling. He liked Twyla, but her stories could be a bit unhinged. “David, did you decide what you wanted to eat?”

David ignored him. “A shadow,” he said to Twyla.

“Yeah. Also, she told me that she could summon small objects from other universes to this one.”

David met Patrick’s eyes briefly as he suppressed a smile. “Oh, really?”

Twyla wasn’t oblivious to their skepticism. “I know, I didn’t really believe her either. But that’s what she claimed! One time she lost an earring, and told us all that she summoned a replacement from a parallel dimension!”

“Or maybe she just found the missing earring,” Patrick said.

Twyla smiled. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Anyway,” she said, turning back to David. “What can I get you?”

David ordered a salad, and Twyla collected their menus and disappeared.

“She’s very… colorful,” David said.

“Yeah. Twyla’s a character. Always cheerful, even when she’s talking about some seriously dark stuff from her childhood.”

“Like stories about her crazy grandmother?”

“Usually about the men her mother brought home,” Patrick clarified, which David answered with a sympathetic cringe.

The food they were eventually brought barely lived up to Patrick’s earlier ‘moderately edible’ characterization, but he got David to smile and even laugh a few times, and that made this detour more than worth it. After the plates were cleared, Patrick ordered a coffee to go along with David’s third cup, and they lingered in the booth, talking about nothing: music and TV shows and the transcendental perfection of a good grilled cheese sandwich.

After they walked out of the diner, instead of going back to Patrick’s car, something caught David’s eye and he crossed the street. Patrick followed him, stopping beside him next to one of the windows of the empty general store, where David was peering inside.

“What?” Patrick asked him.

David was quiet for a few seconds before answering. “I don’t know. This place…” He put his hand up on the glass. “There’s something about it.”

Now it was Patrick’s turn to shiver, because he’d felt the same way when he’d moved here. The general store used to catch his eye every time he went to the café, like something from inside had called out to him, just outside the range of his hearing.

Shaking himself from some kind of reverie, David turned to Patrick and raised an eyebrow. “You have brought us to a very creepy place, Patrick.”

Patrick pinched his lips together, refraining from pointing out once more that David was the one who had wanted to come here. “So let’s get back on the road.”

David’s shoulders slumped. “How much longer?”

Pulling out his phone and looking at the time, Patrick responded, “I guess we’ll get there by eight.”

“It’s just, the thought of more driving is making me want to lie down and cry.”

“I was doing all the driving, David,” Patrick said, struggling to be patient with David’s mood.

“I know, I’m sorry.” David had enough self-awareness to look chagrined. “I’m just exhausted.”

Patrick took a second to remind himself what David was going through and he took a deep breath. “My friend runs the motel in town; we could spend the night there. Although I’ll warn you, it’s pretty run down.”

David squinted at him. “So like everywhere else in this town, then.”

Chuckling, Patrick took his hand and led him back to the car. “Pretty much.”

Chapter 11

[originalhybridloverfics]

Fighting For a Chance at Happiness

Summary: William and Mia travel back to warn Oliver of the consequences of making a deal with the monitor. Giving him the opportunity to change everything. A/N: This is not for Barry or Kara fans. I don't bash them or anything but I don't care about them either in regards to what Oliver had to sacrifice for them.

I don't know how time travel works and I don't really care and I wrote this regardless. I'm sure there are plenty of fics out there like this but this is my version of a fix it. 

I've had it typed on my computer for over two months now and I was finally able to edit it.

I hope you like my version of a fix-it to the crisis mess. I apologized for any mistakes.

On a side note, this is the longest one-shot I've ever written. This has some smut and a lot of fluff. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Are you sure about doing this?" William questioned. 

"Yes." Mia had never been surer of anything in her life. "Our family has spent decades sacrificing for a city that couldn't give a damn about us. We deserve to be selfish for once. Our family deserves to be happy."

William wouldn't argue that point. Still, their actions could affect more than just their family. "What about everyone else? We're supposed to protect Star City."

"Screw everyone else!" Mia snapped. "If I am going to fight for anyone, it's going to be for our family, for our parents. For the life we all deserve to live."

William nodded, her words resonating deep in his chest. He and his sister didn't always agree, she was so stubborn, much like their father in that way. However, her belief that their family deserved better was something they both shared. 

"If you changed your mind and don't want to do this, fine, I'll do it on my own, but I am not turning back now." Mia continued, her eyes shining with determination.

"No, we're in this together." William protested. "As you said, Dad deserves the chance to live his life with his family. Not sacrificing his life for a war that was never his to fight."

Mia's shoulders relaxed. She was ready to do this on her own. However, it was good to know that she had her brother's support.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Getting into the Arrowcave was easier than Mia expected. 

William was surprised to find it empty; usually at least one member of the team had been present. "I thought dad would be here."

Mia looked around. She’d been here before in their time, hell she tied her brother to a chair in this very room in their time but being back in the past and seeing it in its former glory was different somehow.

Something green caught her eye, and she moved, coming to a stop in front of glass cases with masked leather gear.

The green leather was a dead give away to her father's gear, she pressed her hand against the glass. "I hated vigilantes and everything it took from our family."

"I wasn't too happy with Dad being the Arrow when I was a kid," William confessed. "I didn't want to lose him to the city."

Mia dropped her hand from the glass as William stood next to her. "After everything that happened with Archer and Galaxy One and The Ninth Circle and mom leaving, I see things differently. The Green Arrow was not a vigilante. He was a hero. Mom was a hero, too."

"She still is, Mia," William said. "Wherever she is -"

"I know where she is," Mia interjected sharply. "Mom spent twenty years raising me, alone, but she never once got over dad. Mom never moved on. There was always this sadness about mom, and it was never more pronounced than when she talked about dad, but when we were at dad's grave, there was this light in her eyes that I rarely ever saw. It was hope. Whatever journey mom went o,n I know where it will take her."

William's brow furrowed. "Where?"

"To be with Dad."

"Dad's dead, Mia," William said carefully.

"Maybe, he isn't. Mom used to say there were more worlds out there, and sometimes they needed heroes more than we did. Maybe that's where dad is, and maybe that is where mom went. Somewhere we can't follow."

William brow pinched as he contemplated her words and the possibility that Mia was right. His dad was selfless enough to sacrifice everything for complete strangers. But would he sacrifice his life for a fight that wasn't his?

The answer was yes. Yes, his father would. That was just the kind of man, the kind of hero their dad was.

"Don't move." A low growl commanded.

Mia and William whirled around, Mia pulled a blade out from her jacket sleeve. 

“No, don’t.” William reached out to stop her, but it was not necessary. 

Mia was already lowering her arm, her grip loosening around the knife, stunned to be seeing her father for the first time, not in a photograph, or old news article or a tv screen. He was standing right in front of her, pointing the same bow she had on her back at them. 

“Drop the knife!” Oliver ordered. 

Oliver hadn't expected to find two strangers in his bunker and didn’t hesitate in grabbing his bow. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about them like he had seen them before.

Mia knelt down slowly putting the knife down. “You’re not going to what to shoot us.” she cautioned. 

“Give me one good reason why I wouldn’t,” Oliver growled as he took them in. 

The male had to be in his late twenties early thirties, and while he couldn’t place him, he could swear he has seen him before. And the girl, she had blonde hair and blue eyes. Familiar blue eyes and he didn’t understand why, but looking at her, he could almost see his wife. She looked so much like Felicity. 

However, there was a look in her blue eyes that he was all too familiar with. Steel.

“Because you're not going to shoot your own children,” Mia stated bluntly. 

Oliver's eyes widened, and he lowered his bow, looking to the dark-haired male. “William?”

 How was this possible? His son was still just a kid. 

“Yeah, dad,” William stepped forward. “It’s me.”

Oliver’s eyes shot to the blonde. “I don’t have a daughter.”

“Not yet, but you will.” Mia stepped forward. “My name is Mia Smoak.”

“Mia, maybe we should be careful with what we reveal. If we say more than we should, we could change everything.”

Mia shot him a glare. “That’s why we’re here to change the future. He needs to know everything, so he doesn’t make the same choices.”

Oliver lowered his bow, staring at them in bewilderment. “Change the future? Why? What happens in the future?” 

“Mom said you died when I was a baby, but that was just a lie the truth is you left us.” 

Oliver blanched, taking a step back. “I wouldn’t do something like that. I would never abandon my family. I would never leave Felicity.” 

“But you do. You didn’t get a say because you chose to be self-sacrificing over a life with your family. Your choice affected our family more than you can imagine.”

“I didn’t learn until I had a sister until two months ago,” William interjected. “I believed you, and Felicity cut me out. I never heard from you again after I left to go live with my parents.”

“You leave, and it was just mom and I. Don’t get me wrong, mom is an amazing mother. She was always there, always encouraged me, told me every single day that you were a hero, and how much you loved me. She made sure I could protect myself against anything, but none of that changes the fact that I grew up without my father, without my brother. That my mom never moved on, for twenty years, she’s carried this sadness around her because she lost you. She did her best to hide it, but your absence was a pain in her entire being that she could not shake.”

Oliver swallowed, his eyes feeling with tears. The future they painted was a bleak one and a future he would never want for Felicity. “There’s a chance to change it?”

Mia's eyes shined with hope at his words, and at that moment, she was completely her mother's daughter. “You just have to choose yourself, choose your family. I want to have the chance to know you. I want mom to grow old with you, I want to see her without sadness lurking on the edges for once. I want to see hope in her eyes. I want to grow up knowing what it’s like to have a big brother I can annoy endlessly.”

“Hey!” William protested. 

“I want our family to be whole and together and happy. I want you and mom to get the life you deserve after everything you and mom did, how many times you saved the city, all the people you saved, we deserve that much.” Mia said strongly. 

“Dad, please, We’re asking you to make a different choice,” William added. “We’re asking you to choose your family.” 

“I’m sorry,” Oliver said and watched their expression fall. He quickly stepped forward. “I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry you grew up apart. I’m sorry that my choices led to our family being torn apart,”

“I don’t blame you,” Mia interjected. “I blame the flash, and I blame supergirl.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“In just a few weeks, you’re going to meet a man called the monitor, and you’ll ask him to save the flash and supergirl, and he will tell you there has to be a balance and give you a choice to save them at the cost of yourself,” Mia told him. “Don’t choose to save them. Choose yourself. Please.”

Listening to his daughter pleading to him pulled at his heartstrings in a way he didn’t know was possible, and to see the tears in her eyes was crushing. How could he not do as she asked of him? 

He nodded. “I will. I promise. I will make the decision that is the best choice for our family.” his fingers twitched wanting to reach out, he held back for a few seconds at most before placing his hands on Mia’s shoulder and William’s. “I will give you the life you want. I swear it on the love I have for your mother and our family.”

William smiled. “Thank you, Dad.” He hugged Oliver and Oliver didn't hesitate to return it. 

Seconds later, William took a step back, nodding at his dad. 

Relief washed over Mia, and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Oliver.

Oliver was stunned for just a moment before he hugged her back, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

William stared at his sister, surprised. Mia wasn’t exactly one for hugs, but then again, she had never had the chance to know what it’s like to be hugged by their father. 

Mia broke away from Oliver, her smile small. “I hope to see you soon, dad.”

“You will,” Oliver promised, taking a step back reluctantly.

Mia turned to leave but stopped when Oliver called out to them. “Your mother? Does she know about you being here?”

“No, mom said goodbye to us weeks ago to go be with you. We were never going to see her again, but hopefully, now, things will be different. Our lives will be different.”

“C’mon, we have to go,” William said, tugging on Mia’s arm. 

Oliver watched them leave, trying to process everything that he learned and knew one thing. He needed to see Felicity. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Do you think he’s going to listen?” Mia asked William as they prepared to head back to their time, reaching for the time bracelet she had stolen. 

William knew their dad better than she did. He would know if they got through to him. 

“I want to say yes, but I can’t be for sure, Dad, has the habit of putting everyone before him-”

Mia gasped suddenly, as images appeared before her eyes, her hand shot out gripping William’s.

Her dad teaching her to fight, her dad teaching her archery, cooking with her dad, watching her parents snuggling on the couch for movie night, family dinners. Growing up with an annoyingly smart big brother. 

William clutched back new memories flashing before his own mind. 

Coming home the day Mia was born, picking her up from school, going to a game with his dad, coming out to his parents, Felicity showing him around MIT. 

Felicity giving birth again. This time a boy. Their family creating a life in Bloomfield, leaving everything that happened in Star City behind them. 

Mia and William looked to each other, William's eyes filled with tears and Mia bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions at bay. 

They were going to have the life they deserved.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Oliver walked into their apartment and found Felicity at the counter working diligently at a search she was running. 

“Hey, You’re back just in time. I was getting hungry,” Felicity looked over her shoulder at him. “Maybe we could order in. I know how much you love to cook-”

Felicity gasp startled when Oliver tugged her out of her chair and into his arms. One hand was placed her lower back and the other tangle in her hair as his mouth moved over hers with a single-minded purpose. 

Felicity gripped his shoulders clinging to him as he kissed her in a way that consumed her. 

When air became a necessity, their lips parted, and Oliver trailed his lips across her jaw down to her neck, holding her tightly against him. 

Felicity combed her finger through the back of his scalp. “That was quite the greeting.”

Oliver pulled back placing another kiss to her lips. He lifted her and put deposited on the counter, pressing between her legs, pushing her hair back from her face. “I have to ask you something?”

Felicity brow furrowed, he looked so severe like whatever she said would change the course of their lives. “Okay?”

“In five to ten years from now, do you see kids in our future? And I’m not just talking about William. I mean, us expanding our family.” 

“I thought about it once or twice, but with everything going on I don’t think now is the time to be discussing this.”

“Humor me.” Oliver insisted because if the blonde girl who looked a lot like her mother was any proof, more kids weren’t far off in their future. 

“Yes, you are an amazing father to William. It would be a crime not to gift more children with the blessing of having you being their dad. Plus, can you imagine the genetics. Any children we have will be brillant and more than likely doing parkour before their even out of my womb.” 

Oliver gave a small laugh. “And they will be beautiful like you. Tell me, how do you see our life playing out.”

“I see us being happy, raising our beautiful genius athletic children together. I see us sitting on our porch, enjoying a quiet night for once." She cupped his jaw. “I see us living out the rest of our days together. Always together. Where you go, I will go. Always.” 

Oliver nodded. “You know nothing is more important to me than our family, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know.” Felicity scratched her nails through his stubble. “Oliver, what is this about?”

“I just want you to know when it comes to you, there is no choice. I love you, and I’m going to be the best father and husband, and I’m going to do all of it by your side for the rest of my life.”

Felicity hummed, pressing her lips to his. “You’re too sweet.”

Oliver’s response was to tug her to the edge, taking over the kiss with a passion that lit the both of them on fire.

Felicity tugged at his shirt, and Oliver took over, ripping it over his head, tossing it away.

Felicity’s hand slid up his chest, and he gripped her by her thighs squeezing, he leaned back into herm, his mouth finding hers. 

Felicity was startled at first, since getting out of prison, Oliver hadn’t been as tactile as she remembered, he was less affectionate. She didn’t say anything or push the matter cause she thought he just needed time after everything he went through at Slabslide, but that distance, that cold touch she had become accustomed to was gone, and all she could feel with every press of his lips, every glide of his tongue, every caress of his hands was warmth, affection, adoration, and love. 

She reached up, cupping the back of his neck, anchoring herself to him as his hands roamed her body. 

Oliver lifted her from the counter, carrying her over to the couch, laying her back against the cushions. 

“Oliver” Felicity breath as his hands slip beneath her shirt. Felicity pushed at his chest, and he sat up watching with hooded eyes as she sat up quickly, removing her shirt, her bra following swiftly. 

Oliver moved back over her, his hands tangled in her hair, holding her close in no hurry to move this along even as Felicity arched her back, and rotated her hips against his. 

Felicity slid her hands along his back, his sides, everywhere she could reach, pushing at his ass, urging him to push forward. 

She let out a whimper of need that Oliver swallowed eagerly. 

He kissed her until they were both breathless, he moved his hands to her arms, tugging them away from his body until he could laced their fingers together, high above their heads, every inch of her body pressed into his in the most delicious way possible. 

“I love you so much.” he kissed the words into her skin. 

“I love you,” Felicity's reply was breathless and filled with need. 

Oliver pressed forward, capturing her mouth in another heated kiss. 

He had gotten a warning from the future, a glimpse of a life he didn't want for his family. He had a choice to make to save two of his friends and make his family suffer the consequence of his decision, of his sacrifice or he could choose his family, choose his son and daughter, choose his wife, choose his life. In the end, with Felicity in the equation, there was never a choice to make. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When the time came, and the monitor gave Oliver a choice, all he could picture was his son and daughter, telling him everything that goes wrong when he’s gone. Felicity raising their daughter alone, continuing their mission but not really living, their son growing up away from them, believing he had been abandoned by them, never getting the chance to know his little girl. 

There wasn’t a choice to make. What the Monitor wanted in exchange for Kara and Barry’s lives? It was too much. He would not make that sacrifice, he would not force a future all his family that they didn’t deserve. 

“No,” Oliver told the Monitor shocking him. “I will not sacrifice my life with my family. They deserve more, and I am just as much a hero as the Flash and Supergirl, and I deserve the chance to be happy with my family. I have given my blood, sweat, and tears for my city, for protecting innocents, for being a hero, but I will not sacrifice the happiness of my family.”

The Monitor stared at him. “Are you sure about this? Kara and Barry will die today if this is the choice you make.”

“If it’s a choice between them and my families happiness, there is no choice to make. My family will always come first for me.” 

Of course, his choice had its consequences Iris and Team Flash blamed him for Barry’s death, Kara’s team blamed him, the two teams cut ties with Oliver and the rest of Team Arrow. 

And while Oliver hated that Kara and Barry died, he didn’t regret his choice. He remembered meeting his daughter from the future and his son William, and the future they painted was not a future he wanted for his family. So no he didn’t regret putting his family first and he never would. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“I’m pregnant.” 

Hearing those words come from his wife, cause such a wave of happiness to spread through Oliver’s chest, remembering his daughter, who reminded him so much of himself but looked so much like her mother. 

He smiled wide and wrapped his arms around his wife, engulfing her in his hold. 

A small part of him feared that maybe when William and Mia came back to warn him that they ran the risk of changing the future entirely, including Mia’s existence. 

It was a relief to know that much didn’t change. Oliver was relieved to know Felicity was now carrying their baby. A daughter who would grow to be as strong and smart and beautiful as her mother. He couldn’t imagine asking for more than that.

He pulled back just enough to frame Felicity’s face and press his lips to hers in a soft, loving kiss. 

Felicity’s hand slid up to curl around his neck, deepening the kiss, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth.

He groaned, lifting her and placing her on the counter as he opened to her seeking tongue, he grasped at her thighs, tugging her to the edge until her hips were flushed against him. 

He could taste the ice cream she had been eating when he got home on her lips. 

Felicity pulled back slightly, lips parting from his. “I take it your happy?” 

“Happy doesn’t even cover it,” he pushed her hair back and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you so much, and I will be the best father I possibly can to our little girl.”

He was going to be the father both his children needed and deserved. 

“You think it’s a girl?” Felicity bit her lip, fighting back a smile. “Or are you hoping for a little girl?” 

“I know it’s a girl.” He said confidently, recalling precisely what Mia Smoak looked like. “She’ll have blonde hair, blue eyes, your stubborn streak. She’ll be just as smart and beautiful as her mother.” 

“You sound pretty confident about that,” Felicity's lips pulled into a grin. 

“Let’s just say that I have a feeling about this.” Oliver swept his hand along her jaw. 

“A hunch?” Felicity repeated, eyes shining with amusement “Whatever you say.”

“Really? Whatever I say?” Oliver slipped his hand beneath her shirt, pressing his palm flat against her lower back, her skin warm and soft to the touch. “Well, then I say, kiss me.”

Felicity smiled, cupping his face and pulling him closer, her lips glided across his lips, scratching her fingers through his stubble. 

Oliver groaned and took her bottom lip between his. 

Felicity gave a low moan that had all his blood rushing south. 

Oliver reluctantly pulled away, laughing as Felicity chased his mouth with her own. “C’mon, I want to celebrate by making love to my pregnant wife.” 

Felicity gave a happy laugh as he lifted her, his hands on her ass, carrying her through their home. 

In the months when Oliver was in prison away from Felicity, she had almost forgotten what it was to be this happy. 

It felt good to be truly happy again. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“And that there is your baby.” Doctor Schartz pointed at the screen. 

Oliver stared at the small grainy image on the ultrasound screen, his eyes feeling with tears.

Felicity’s fingers squeezed around his, and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. 

“There’s our little girl.” Oliver murmured. 

Felicity looked at Oliver, her smile practically glowing. “You’re still pretty confident we’re having a girl?”

Oliver tore his eyes from the screen and looked at her. “Without a shadow of a doubt.” 

Felicity smiled at him. “If our baby ends up being a boy, I get to name him, and if it’s a girl, you get to name her.” 

“I already have her name picked out.” Oliver grinned. “Mia.”

“After Moira.” Felicity smiled. “Firery and fierce. I like it.”

“Would you like to hear your baby’s heartbeat?” 

Oliver’s and Felicity’s eyes shot back to Dr. Schartz, having almost forgotten she was there. 

“Yes!” They said simultaneously. 

A few minutes later the sound of their baby’s heartbeat sounded through the room, and Felicity felt joy spread through her being, and she turned her head to Oliver to find the brightest smile she ever saw lighting his face. 

“Isn’ t that the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard?” Oliver whispered, his voice low and soft. A tone he ever used with her. 

“Yeah, it is.” Felicity brought his hand up to her face this time, kissing his knuckles and Oliver ducked down, pressing his mouth to hers, nipping at her lip, not caring that they weren’t alone. 

Today he heard his little girl’s heartbeat, and he couldn’t be happier. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It had been hard letting go of Team Arrow. It was the end of an Era. However, Felicity and Oliver were more than ready to start the next chapter of their lives, focusing on their growing family. 

Felicity wasn’t sure about moving to Bloomfield. The last time they took a step back from Team Arrow, they had been living in Ivy Town, and besides the copious amounts of sex and dates with Oliver, she had been bored to tears. 

But she was ready to move past all the threats and danger to her family. She was ready to have her husband to herself, and she was ready to stop sacrificing her and Oliver’s happiness. She was ready to be happy. 

They were only living in Bloomfield for a few days when Felicity realized she had been wrong. She was happy here, maybe in Ivy town, she hadn't been ready for the full domesticity of 'happy growing family' life, but now she was beyond thrilled and ready. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver let out a groan as he awoke, to soft lips kissing his chest, Felicity straddling his torso. 

Just a few days ago Felicity had started acting like they hadn’t had sex in months. He knew pregnant women had an increase in sex drive. But it went beyond what he had imagined. 

Felicity was horny all the time, and the smallest of things would get her worked up. 

The other day he had been about to start dinner and had pushed his sleeves up his arms, Felicity had been sitting at the counter working on her laptop but then suddenly she wasn’t. She was pushing him against the counter, her mouth devouring his, and her hands yanking at his shirt until she could toss it across the room. 

He had groaned against her mouth and had lifted her against him, more than ready to give her whatever she wanted, and she made it pretty clear when she unfastened his pants and pulled at his zipper, her hand slipping inside to stroke him that what she wanted was him. 

Instead of cooking dinner he had Felicity on the counter, she came twice before he pulled her off it and bent her over it instead,  taking her right there, one hand rubbing at her sensitive breast and the other placed firmly against her stomach that had started to show, as he thrust into her with abandon. Felicity had gripped the edge of the counter, moaning and whimpering in pleasure. 

Dinner was late that night. Real late. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Watching Felicity grow with their child, being there for her was everything Oliver had wanted for them.

He didn’t mind getting up in the middle night because she was having cravings she had to have. 

He loved cooking for her, finding things she likes, and being careful to get rid of everything that she didn’t. 

He loved helping her with her prenatal yoga and following it up with a healthy amount of sex. 

The sex... The sex was intense and amazing and unbelievable. 

In the last three months, Oliver was almost positive he had more sex than he did when he was a Billionaire Playboy, and that was saying something. Back then, when he was only Ollie, he had threesomes, and orgies with drugs and alcohol and everything had been hazy. 

The sex he has been having with his wife was anything but hazy. He had heard that a pregnant woman’s sex drive was unrivaled, but hearing about it and experiencing it was two different things. 

There were times Felicity exhausted him to the point he feared his dick would fall off and that absolutely could not happen. He needed every part of his body, and if being a father to William and how happy he is about their unborn daughter, he wanted more children with his wife. A good half dozen sounded good to him. 

He never wanted his children to feel alone, he wanted them to have a lot of siblings. He wanted a big family with Felicity. It was just a plus that he really enjoyed the baby-making process, and he loved the way his wife wrap around him like a glove, and there was nothing like watching her body change with his child growing inside her womb. 

He hadn’t actually talked to Felicity about more children, he figured that would be something they can talk about in a year or two. 

For now, he was going to enjoy being there for his wife for every step of her pregnancy. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver returned home after making a trip to the store. It was around four. He has been gone for almost two hours. 

“Felicity,” he called out, he walked through the backdoor into the kitchen setting the bags of grocery’s down. 

He moved through the house when he didn’t get a response. “Felicity?” he paused in the living room, his wife was fast asleep on the couch, harry potter was playing on the screen. 

His lips ticked up into a smile and he returned to the kitchen putting away the groceries before returning to the living room with a container with hot wings melted cheese and taco sauce, with a glass of water. He set everything on the coffee table before kneeling next to Felicity on the couch. 

He gently slipped her glasses off her face, placing them on the table before cupping her round stomach, her pink tank top had ridden up to beneath her breast, leaving her rounded stomach exposed. 

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin, smiling when he felt a sharp kick against his left hand. 

Felicity gave a happy sigh. “You’re back.”

Her voice was low and still filled with sleep. A sexy combination if you asked Oliver then again he thought everything his wife did was sexy. 

“Yeah, I’m back, I got your Cherry Garcia ice cream, it’s in the freezer. I also picked up stuff for dinner tonight, I got your pickles and coconut buttercream frosting.” His right hand rubbed her stomach in a circular motion. 

Usually, he wanted her to eat healthier, however, whenever he suggested more healthy food, it brought out her pregnancy hormones with a vengeance. 

“You didn’t forget my hot wings did you?” Felicity asked eyes narrowing. 

“I wouldn’t dare.” Oliver grinned. The last time he forgot Felicity's hot wings, he sore he regretted it immediately. A pregnant woman’s craving was nothing to mess with. Not even if you were formally the Green Arrow. Her loud voice had gotten a thousand times scarier. 

He nodded his head at the carton of hot wings on the table. 

“You remembered.” Felicity's lips stretched into one of his favorite smiles. “I love you.”

Oliver chuckled. “Love you, too. Do you want to eat them now?” 

Felicity placed her hand against his jaw, nails scratching through his stubble. “Maybe in fifteen minutes. Right now, I want my husband to lay with me.” 

Oliver smiled and stood, shedding off his jacket he tossed it onto the recliner chair and toed off his shoes and gently climbed onto the couch, sliding in behind her and wrapping himself around his wife, his hand settling on her stomach, his face buried in her neck, his chest pressed to her back. 

Felicity hummed pressing back against him and lacing their fingers together over her stomach. 

“I love our quiet moments.” Oliver pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. 

Felicity reached up with her other hand, combing her hands through his hair, and turning her head to press a kiss to his stubble jaw. “Me too.”

A kick against their joined hands had them both chuckling. 

“I think she likes them too.” Felicity smiled. 

“I can’t wait to start creating memories with her,” Oliver confessed. “Being there when she’s born, her first word, when she starts crawling, her first steps, her first day of school, the first time she makes a friend, birthdays, holidays. All of it. I can’t wait to make memories of our growing family.”

Felicity smiled touched. Still, she couldn’t help but tease him. “What about her first date.” 

“No,” Oliver gave his head a hard shake. “Nope, not happening. Our daughter is not going to date until I’m am no longer walking this earth.” 

Felicity snorted. “Most father’s say their daughter can’t date till their thirty.” 

“I’m not most father’s and I can’t promise I won’t shoot any boy she brings home with an arrow.” He gave a smiled. “If our little girl is anything like you, no one will ever be good enough for her in my eyes.” 

“You’re too, sweet.” Felicity turned on the couch, and Oliver helped her until she was facing him. “Hi,” Felicity whispered, cupping his jaw. 

“Hi,” Oliver leaned forward and capture her lips in a slow kiss, sucking on her bottom lip. 

Felicity’s hand slid into his hair, tugging on the strands, a moan building in the back of her throat. 

Neither of them hearing the sound of their front door opening or the sound of approaching footsteps. 

“Please, don’t make out on the couch! I have to sit there.”

They broke apart, turning their heads to see William looking at them with a slightly disgusted look. 

Felicity smiled at him unfazed. 

“How was school?” she asked, turning back over. 

“It was good.” William settled into the chair. “I’ve got a new science project I need to start working on and a math test coming up.”

“Anything we can help with?” Oliver asked. 

“No offense dad if I need help with archery, sports or self-defense you would be my first choice but if I need help with my school work I’m going with Felicity every single time.” 

“Smart kid.” Felicity grinned, and Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“Are there hot wings in that container.” William pointed to the white to-go box on the table. “It smells like hot wings.”

“Those are Felicity’s.” Oliver cautioned when William leaned forward to reach for them. 

William’s leaned back in the chair, snatching his arm back. “Never mind. I will find something in the fridge, or maybe I’ll order a pizza.”

Felicity was about to argue that she was not that bad; however, she was distracted by the mention of pizza. “You should order a bacon pizza with mango.”

William’s face scrunched up in disgust. “That sounds really gross. Pregnant women have horrible cravings.” he got up from his seat. “I’m gonna work on my homework.”

“Hey, what about the pizza?” Felicity called after him. 

“My appetite disappeared with your topping choices,” William called back. 

Felicity frowned, turning back to him. “What about my pizza?”

Oliver arched a brow at her. “You have hot wings waiting for you on the table, and I’m preparing dinner tonight.”

“But I want pizza instead.” Felicity insisted. 

“More than my spicy chili?” Oliver questioned. 

“Of course not. I love your chili, I can compromise.” Felicity insisted. “I eat my hot wings now, your chili tonight and pizza tomorrow with a side of cheese fries with barbecue sauce.”

Oliver made a face at her food choices but said. “Whatever you want.” 

Felicity grinned, turning her head and kissing his jaw. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Oliver pressed a kissed to her forehead and rubbed her stomach lovingly, feeling Mia kick against his hand. It was one of the most amazing feelings in the world. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The day Mia came into their lives, Oliver had never been happier. He had his wife, his son, and now his little girl. 

He was living the life he’s always wanted, and he couldn’t ask for more. 

There were days where he felt guilty about Kara and Barry, but then he would hold his baby girl, and he would remember the image of his daughter and his son standing before him in the bunker, pleading, begging for him to choose a life with his family and that guilt faded away. 

He and Felicity were putting their family first, and they were better for it. 

He was happy, and while he didn’t think he deserved to be this happy, his family did and he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Felicity smiled as she watched Oliver hurry to catch up with their little girl as Mia ran through the yard. 

Mia was an overachiever much like herself. She was running before she could crawl. Mia was stubborn like her father when she looked disgruntled, she looked a lot like her dad. She was a lot like Oliver in so many ways, and Felicity loved that. 

Oliver loved that she was already showing signs of being smart like her brother and mother. However, what he really loved was that Mia looked so much like Felicity.

“Hey,” William appeared at her side. “I was going to run into town. I’m meeting Derek.”

“Are you going to be bringing him to dinner with the family soon?” Felicity turned her gaze to William. 

William flushed. “He’s just a friend.” 

A few weeks after William moved back home with them, he had come out to Oliver and Felicity. He had been nervous and scared of their rejection, of being shunned by both of them. His own grandparents hadn' taken it well when he told them before coming back home to live with his dad at Felicity. He was happy that he had been worried for nothing. Neither Oliver or Felicity had shown anything but love and acceptance. 

“I used to say the same thing about your father and look at us now, married, and two children and I couldn’t imagine loving anyone the way I love your father,” Felicity responded. 

“I doubt I’m going to find the person I want to be with for the rest of my life at fourteen.” William shook his head. 

“If it gets past the friend stage, I expect to meet him,” Felicity stated. 

“I will, I promise. I was wondering if I could get some money? We were going to see a movie and then hit the arcade after.” 

Felicity looked at him. “Are you going to be home by curfew?”

“Yes,” William answered. “I’ll be home by eleven.”

“Alright, c’mon, I got you covered.” Felicity led him inside, and after getting some money from her wallet, she handed it to William. 

“Thanks, Felicity,” William pressed a kiss to her cheek before grabbing his jacket and disappearing out the door, Felicity moved to the kitchen and looked outside, laughing when she saw Mia on top of Oliver's shoulder, her small tiny arms extended to the sky like she was reaching for the world. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Oliver stared at his baby girl, his love for her washing over him, leaving a warmth inside his chest; he only ever felt when he was at home with his family. 

A desire for more children hit him and not the first time, maybe it was time he talked to Felicity about it. See where her head was at regarding expanding their family beyond William and Mia. 

He leaned over Mia and pressed a kiss to her forehead and tucked her in before leaving her in her room, carrying the baby monitor back out into the kitchen finding Felicity rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a strawberry and banana yogurt. 

He handed her a spoon as she closed the fridge. 

“Thanks, did she go down easily?” Felicity asked, opening her yogurt and spooning out a bite. 

“Yeah, out like a light. I don’t think she’ll be back up for a few hours.” Oliver smiled fondly. His little girl was full of energy, but once she tired her self out, she was always down for a few hours. “I thought we could use the time to talk about something I’ve wanted to discuss with  you?”

“Yeah, what’s on your mind?”

“I know when you first got pregnant with Mia, we hadn’t planned it but it worked out, and William was are first experience being parents, and I know we struggled at first, but I like to think we have this parenting thing down at this point.”

Felicity tilted her head at him, wondering where he was going with this. 

“What I’m getting at or what I’m trying to ask is, what do you think about having more kids? Trying for another baby?”

Felicity set her yogurt on the counter. “We are not trying for another baby.” 

Felicity could have hit him, and it would have hurt less than her answer, he flinched. “You don’t want to try for another baby? Is building a family with me that terrible?”

Felicity’s eyes widened, realizing how her words must have sounded and groaned. “That’s not what I meant. Oliver, we can’t try for another baby because I’m already pregnant.”

Oliver’s face lit up, his lips pulling up into a hopeful smile. “What?”

“I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to tell you. I found out two weeks ago, I wanted to surprise you-”.

Oliver cut her off with his mouth on hers, his hands on her hips, pressing her against the counter. 

His mouth traveled down her jaw to her neck before he dropped to his knees at her feet.  Oliver pushed her shirt up and placed a soft kiss against her belly. 

Felicity smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. “So as you can see, we can’t actually try for another baby when I’m already carrying precious cargo.”

Oliver grinned up at her and stood, enfolding her in his arms, her body pressed flushed against his, his lips claiming hers. 

Felicity moaned back in her throat, parting her lips as he coaxed her mouth open, his tongue slid along hers.

Oliver loved that quiet moan at the back of her throat, and he loved more when it got louder, more raw, and desperate with need when he was moving deep inside her.

He needed to be with her right now. He pulled back, barely a breath away. "I know we already created another baby, hopefully, another girl."

Felicity laughed. "What about a boy? Don't you want another son?"

"I have William, and the world doesn't need a mini Oliver. It needs another mini Felicity." Oliver pressed his lips to her neck, leaving a fire in his wake. 

Felicity let out a moan as he sucked on her clavicle. “Lucas, if it’s a boy, his name is going to be Lucas.”

“I think we should practice making babies.” Oliver dragged his teeth across her skin, making her gasp. 

“I think the fact that I already have our third child growing inside of me proves we don’t need the practice.” Felicity's reply was breathless as she arched into his mouth. 

Oliver’s left hand slid around to cup her ass, gripping tightly to the flesh that he loved so damn much. “Maybe so, but practice makes perfect.” he wrapped his other hand around her waist and lifted her. 

Felicity gave a surprised laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck and tightened her legs around his torso. She pressed her mouth to his kissing him thoroughly, trusting him to get them to their bedroom. 

Felicity tugged at his shirt as soon as he lowered her to her feet. Oliver quickly ripping it over his head before reaching for her shirt and lifted it over her head and tossing it aside. 

Oliver wrapped his arms around her and lifted her, moving forward, he laid her back on the bed, covering her with his body. 

Felicity tilted her neck as Oliver placed a trail of hot kisses against her skin, traveling down to her chest, her hands moved between them, reach to unfasten his pants and reached her hand inside to stroke his hardening length. 

Oliver groaned, he reached behind her unfastening her bra, freeing it from her body, he kissed a path down her stomach, lingering to place a sweet kiss to her navel, before tugging down her yoga pants and panties. 

Felicity complained as he moved away from her hand and stood from the bed. “Patience, honey.” 

Felicity only grunted in response, running her hands along her body. “I don’t have patience when it comes to having you buried inside of me.” 

Oliver groaned as her words sent all his blood rushing to his dick, he pushed down his pants and boxers, kicking them free. 

Felicity’s eyes darkened with want as she watched his erection bounce free from the confines of his pants, he was hard and flushed red with a drop of precum, escaping the tip. 

She licked her lips slowly. It would be so easy to sit up and take her husband's cock in between her lips and suck him dry, savoring his taste on her tongue. 

“Later,” Oliver’s voice was rough with desire. He knew that look in her eyes, and he loved it when she got him off with her mouth. It turned her on just as much as it did him and it was no secret how much he loved having her legs wrapped around his head as he sucked her juices, but right now he didn’t want oral sex. He wanted to make love to his wife. He wanted to be one with her in every physical way possible, and he wanted to shower her in his love. 

He moved back over her, his hands smoothing up her calves, curling around her thighs, hooking them around his hip, his length pressed hot and heavy against her, the head of his cock bumping against her clit. 

Felicity’s hand slid over his shoulders and down his back, to his ass, squeezing his cheeks encouragingly. 

He gave a groan and reached between them, slipping a finger along her slick flesh and inside her entrance, and he almost sighed in relief at the heat he found there. She was wet, so fucking wet and ready for him. 

Oliver reached between them, grabbing his cock and lining himself up with her entrance, pushing only the head inside, not going any deeper. 

Felicity whimpered, she needed more, she needed him filling her. She tried to push at his ass, but he was immovable. “Oliver,” she pleaded, desire consuming her. She needed him inside of her. NOW.

Oliver groaned. “I know.” he reached behind him, his chest pressing more against hers and removed her hands from his ass. Felicity gave a whine of protest, but it faded on her lips as he took control of her mouth, his hands smoothing up her arms, until’s their palms were flat and their fingers laced. Oliver pressed their hands into the mattress above them as he surged his hips forward, burying his length inside her welcoming body, she wrapped around him like a glove. It was perfect. 

She was perfect. 

Felicity moaned from deep in her chest as he filled her in slow, deep penetrating strokes, his pelvis grinding against hers, she locked her legs tighter around him, her heels digging into his ass, pushing him forward. 

Oliver broke apart from her with a groan, watching in awe at the raw pleasure on his wife's face. 

Felicity's eyes were closed, head tilted back, lips parted on a breathless moan. Fuch she was gorgeous even more so when they were together like this. 

“Look at me.”

Felicity's eyes snapped open, his voice was dripping with sex and had her clenching down on his hard length. She stared into his blues eyes that were looking at her like she had the answers to the universe like she was everything good in the world, and he couldn’t believe she was real. It was looking that always had her heart thundering in her chest in the best way possible. 

“I love you.” 

The words were said with such intensity Felicity swore she felt them in her bones. 

“I love you too.” She breathed. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I never will.”

Felicity's words washed over Oliver like a balm, and his mouth found hers in a slow heated kiss that had her toes curling as he moved inside of her. 

Oliver kept his thrust slow but deep, their moans and pants filling the room as he made love to her. 

When they finally reached the edge of their pleasure, they fell over together in an orgasm so intense, Felicity's vision went white, and Oliver barely was able to keep himself from collapsing all his body weight onto her. 

He rolled onto his back, pulling Felicity wth him and she rested on his chest, his arms securely around her. 

“Wow.” Felicity murmured. “You love me.”

Oliver gave a happy laugh and kissed her temple, their skin was slick with sweat. “Always.”

Felicity pressed a kiss over his heart. “Always,” she murmured as she slowly started to drift off. 

Hopefully, they could get an hour of sleep in before their little girl decided it was time to wake her parents. 

Oliver watched as Felicity drifted off, his hand rubbing up and down her back, before settling on her hip, enjoying having his wife in his arms, smiling softly knowing they were slowly expanding their family.

A feeling of peace filled him, knowing the grim future that his son and daughter had come back to change had been rewritten and his family had a better future waiting for them, one they deserved.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

16 years later

Mia set down the stack of presents she was carrying and looked up at the sound of her older brother’s voice. 

William walked into the yard, his boyfriend Arron was next to him with two presents. 

“I come bearing gifts.” Arron declared. 

“I would hope so, you can’t show up to a birthday party without gifts,” Lucas stated, passing Mia a soda. “I mean you could, but you’ll have two angry 7-year-olds on your hands.”

Mia gave a smirk, shaking her head. Lucas looked just like their father, same blue eyes, same dark sandy blonde hair but their dad swore up and down that his teasing and playful personality reminded him every day of his best friend, Thomas Merlyn. 

William chuckled. “Tommy and Nate or not that bad.” 

“Says you,” Lucas stated. “You’re not the one living with them and having them follow you everywhere you-” Lucas gave a sudden grunt as a familiar body jumped on the back of his back and a pair of familiar lips pressed to the side of his neck, he instinctively reached behind him gripping a pair of thighs. 

“Who are you kidding, you love your little brothers.” Sara Diggle stated lips pulled into a grin, she was latched onto him like a monkey.

“Not when they won’t leave me alone when I’m trying to get some alone time with my girlfriend.” He turned his head and placed a kiss on her lips. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Sara grinned, placing another kiss to his lips. 

“Cut that out, are you’re going to pay for my therapy, Luc,” Connor said walking over to them with two drinks in hand, he handed one to Mia and sipped at the other one. 

Sara laughed at Connor. “Where’s JJ?”

“Over by the Grill, hitting on Veronica. Again,” he answered. “

Veronica looked a lot like her mother, Thea but she had her father’s Roy, personality. 

 Lucas snorted, sharing a laugh with Mia. No matter how bad Veronica shot him down, JJ never gave up, but personally, they knew Veronica like their little dance, It was her own personal brand of flirting. And, thankfully there wasn't that big of an age difference between the two. 

The Diggles and the Queens had remained a close-knit family through the years. With a two vacation every year, birthday and holidays and special occasions and when then Diggle moved to Bloomfield 10 years ago almost every Saturday, they got together for their weekly family barbeque. 

No family event was complete unless every Diggle and Queen were in attendance. 

“Will!” William turned to see a blonde little girl no older than four running across the field, Donna, hot on her heels. 

Will grinned and caught his little sister Madlynn in his arms as threw herself into him. “There’s my favorite little sister.”

Donna caught up to them, hands on her hips. “What are you kids all gathered around for?” she grinned eyes lighting up. “Are we gossiping?” 

Mia scoffed. “We don’t gossip, grandma.” 

“Yes, we do,” said Willam. “We were just finding amusement in JJ being turned down by Veronica.” 

“Well, he has good taste.” Donna approved. 

“Bubbee!” Donna turned to see twin boys, running toward her. “Hey, what’s the rush?” She asked when they grabbed her hands, pulling on them. 

“Dad burnt the cookies, and Mama needs you to help her clean up and air out the kitchen while he goes to the store for ice cream.”

“Gross,” Mia scrunched her face up. Whenever her father burnt anything, it was her mother’s fault. 

She lost count of how many times she, William and Lucas had walked in on their parents making out in the kitchen like they were two teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Donna gave a laugh. “Well, maybe I could go to the store and take over, and your parents could just go have se-”

“Bubbee!” William exclaimed as Lucas and Sara lunged forward to cover the twins' ears, Mia doing the same with Maddie, each making a disgusted face. 

Donna laughed at their reactions and walked away with the twins. They got so flustered like their mother. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A course of Happy birthday ranged out through the backyard, everyone gathered around the picnic table, as the candles burned on the cake that Felicity had specially ordered. 

It was a Green Arrow cake. Exactly what the boys had wanted. Oliver was more proud than he could ever say that he was his sons' favorite hero even if he was no longer the Green Arrow and had left that life behind. 

The kids were more excited about eating a piece of their cake and blowing out the candles. He was sure they got that from Felicity, she enjoyed her sweets. 

Oliver got distracted, standing with his wife. They were going to start opening presents soon. However, he was entranced by the small dollop of icing on the corner of his wife’s lips. 

“Oliver, you’re staring,” Felicity said pointedly, moving closer to him. “Why?”

“You have a little bit of icing on the corner of your mouth.” he pointed at where the dark green icing was. 

“Oh,” Felicity cheeks pinked, and she reached her hand up; however, Oliver caught it in his, locking their fingers together. 

“No, let me.” Oliver leaned forward, pressing his mouth against the corner of her lips, his tongue swiping out to clear the icing away. 

“Oliver.” Felicity laughed.

 Oliver grinned. “You know how much I love dessert.” his eyes twinkled. 

Felicity smacked at his chest with her other hand, though her smile was filled with love. “The dessert you love you can only get when we’re alone.”

Oliver’s eyes heated and he slipped a hand behind the nape of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss that had Felicity’s head spinning and heat coiling in her stomach. 

“Mom, Dad, cut that out!” Lucas groaned in complaint. “There are literally a ton of people around.” 

John clapped him on the back. “Relax. They still got their clothes on, and their hands are where we can see them that’s more than I could have asked for over the years.” 

Roy smirked. “Your parents being unable to stop being lovey-dovey is the reason why you have so many siblings." 

“Therapy.” Lucas deadpanned. “We're all gonna need therapy,” he waved at himself Willam and Mia. “All the therapy one can get for the rest of our lives. Can’t you be like normal parents for one day and not act like teenagers who can’t control their hormones? William, Mia back me up here?”

William and Mia shared a look. Yeah, it was gross seeing their parents make out all the time, but it was also sweet, and it was a whole lot better than a life they were able to remember for two years now. 

A life where Mia grew up without her father or brother, where she was an only child and her mother were isolated, guarded, alone, devoid of real happiness or joy. A life where William grew up, not knowing he had a sister and beliving Felicity and Oliver had abandoned him. 

No, the life they had now was a whole lot better than the one they went back and fixed. 

“They're happy,” Mia said, looking at her parents. “And so am I.” 

“Me too.” William agreed, nudging her with his shoulder. 

Mia fought a smile, focusing on her parents. Her father looking at her mother like she was the whole world and her mother looking at him like he brought life to hers. 

It was beautiful, and everything Mia wanted for their family. 

When she felt William's hand circled her wrist, she allowed it. They were the family they were always meant to be, and having her brother share this with her meant more to her than she would ever admit. 

William smiled, thankful that for once his life worked out just the way he wanted it to. 

Oliver locked eyes with his kids and smiled. He wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for them. He may be a hero to his family, but to him, they were the heroes. They saved him from a short life filled with misery, and he couldn't be more grateful because now he got to raise his children and grow old with the love of his life. 

He couldn’t ask for more. He already had everything he needed in this life. He had his family, his kids, and he had Felicity, the love of his life, and he was truly happy. More than he ever thought was possible, and if this life had taught him anything, it was to never take things for granted and to hold on to your loved ones. 

He didn’t choose to save Kara and Barry, and some people hated him for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret his decision as he looked around at his family, his wife pressed into his side. 

His family deserved to be happy, and so did he and he wouldn’t give that up for the world. 

He leaned down, pressed a lingering kiss to his wife temple, and whispered. “Thank you.”

Felicity looked up at him, cupping his jaw. “For what?”

“For choosing to love me when I didn’t even believe I deserved it or that I was even capable of it.”

“There was never a choice in loving you, Oliver Queen. You were in my bones from the moment I meant you.”

Oliver smiled, and it was breathtaking. “I love you.” 

Felicity stretched up, pressing her mouth to his, showing him with the tender kiss that she felt the same. 

Oliver tightened his arms around her and held her close.

This was the life he chose, and it was the life Felicity, his family deserved. He was happy, but more importantly, his family was happy. 

Felicity was happy. That was all he ever wanted.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you like this one-shot. 

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