#i may have to come back and do this one because i had a little bit of a struggle

[lowkeyerror]

Congrats on Your Divorce

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: Requested, fluff & smut, librarian!reader, divorced!Wanda, smut, fingering, thigh-riding, cunnilingus

Summary: You befriend Wanda, a regular at the library you work at, after learning about her divorce. The friendship becomes something more one day when you come over to help her with her sick kids. As your relationship progresses you even talk about buying a home together, which leads to a physical manifestation of how much you love each other.

An: It took me awhile because I got a little carried away. I hope I did your request justice 🙇‍♀️.

Masterlist

You enjoyed the mundane lifestyle that came with working at the library. There was a comfort that came with knowing that you worked in something of a community center. Being able to provide a service that for some was the highlight of their day. In this day and age having regulars at the library was a rarity, especially the adults. Kids would come after school for homework or for research purposes, but the adults were few and far between.

Technically it may have been weird that you had a favorite but you couldn’t help yourself. There was a woman named Wanda, she’d come once a week ask for a recommendation and sit there the whole day and read it.

She’d always make a comment or two on the book on her way out and it made you smile. It was good to know she appreciated your picks. Though there were other staff members she only really asked you.

When she missed one week, you found yourself discouraged. One week turned to two and so forth until it had been a month since you saw the woman.

“Y/n, it looks like your regular is back. She might need a little assistance,” one of your coworkers approaches you.

“What are you talking about?”

They give you a look that says ‘seriously’, “Ms. Recommendations, she’s in the non-fiction section looking a little worse for wear.”

You nod and make your way over to the section. There you find Wanda. Your coworker was not exaggerating. She looked so fragile as if she was just waiting for the tears to fall. She was staring at the books, but it was easy to tell that she wasn’t really reading anything.

“Looking for anything in particular,” you say softly, trying not to startle her.

She seems to snap out of her trance enough to try and answer you, “No, not today.”

It felt like she was speaking on autopilot. If it were another guest, you would’ve let her be, but this was Wanda. Perhaps it was a bit para-social but it felt like you knew her better than the average customer.

“I- I don’t mean to overstep, but are you alright?”

She lets out a tired sigh, “That obvious?”

You attempt to back track, “No… uh it’s just I haven’t seen you around in a while."

She looks away for a moment, “ Yeah, I um got a divorce. So I’ve been a hermit as of late.”

“Oh, congratulations.”

Wanda can’t help but laugh at your words, “Most people have been saying they’re sorry to hear, but congratulations? It’s kind of refreshing.”

You shrug, “Well I don’t think divorce is always a bad thing. It’s hard for sure, but it’s better than staying in a situation you don't deserve.”

“What if I was in the wrong?’ Her eyes are glued to the floor as she speaks.

“I may be overstepping again, but I doubt that's the case. You don't seem like the kind of person,” your tone doesn't make her argue, instead a look of relief crosses her face.

“I'm not,” she says taking a deep breath.

You smile at her, “Then it’s their loss.”

She smiles back at you, “I guess you’re right.”

Glad to have made her feel even a little bit better, you begin to leave the aisle she's in. You dint get far before there’s a gentle tug on your wrist. You turn back to stare into Wanda’s warm green eyes.

She’s nervous as she speaks, “I don’t know if I’m too old to be doing this, but fuck it. I could really use a friend right now and I was wondering if you’d be open to getting coffee or something, whenever you’re free.”

You stare at her for a few seconds before nodding, “I’m off in about 15 minutes, there’s a café a few blocks over that I think everyone should try at least once.”

Her excitement builds up in her features. She clears her throat to hide it, “I’ll wait for you by the YA novels?”

“Sounds perfect.”

From that day on Wanda wasn’t just a regular customer anymore, she was your genuine friend. She was also one of the sweetest people you had ever met in your life. She was unbelievably strong too.

The details of her divorce were quite messy. A touch of infidelity here and there, mixed with a custody agreement was a recipe for disaster.

You always offered to be there in any way you can’t for. She usually turns down your more serious offers for help, and sticks to fun small outings. You can tell that she’s somewhat embarrassed by her situation, but you don’t think there’s anything she should be embarrassed about.

“Y/n, I know I said I was free to go out today, but Tommy is sick and Billy isn’t doing that great either, can I give you a rain check?”

She called you and you could hear the tiredness and distress in her voice, “Let me come over and help you, Wands. Two sick kids is rough work, I know you could use a hand.”

She’s silent on the line, but the coughs and sinus filled conversation doesn’t stop.

Wanda sighs, “Okay, do you think you can bring me some medicine? I’ll text you some ingredients I need for soup too if that’s alright?”

“Whatever you need, I’ll see you in a bit,” you say simply.

You follow through on your word picking up various cough, cold, and fever medicines along with some cough drops. You nearly forget about the stuff for the soup, until Wanda texts you something she left off the ingredient list. After picking up everything you head to her house.

You’d been to her house before, but never when her kids were there. You had seen them with her a few times at the library, but back then you didn’t quite deduce that they were her children. It feels so obvious now, but Wanda was definitely a young mom in your opinion, or at least she looked like one.

You rang the doorbell and waited with the groceries in your hand. It took a moment but eventually the door swung open revealing Wanda. Though your hands were full, she’s the one who had bags under her eyes. She looked as though she would fall over any second.

“You’re a godsend Y/n,” she tries to take the bags from your hands but you don’t let her.

“And you’re sick too, here I figured this would happen,” you rummage through the bags and pull out a medicine that’s for adults.

“It’s drowsy.”

You nod, “I know, I figured you need the rest anyway, let me handle its.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Are you crazy? You think you can handle my two kids and me on your own?”

You smile at her, “You underestimate me, Maximoff. Let me show you what I can do.”

“We’ll see, but first come meet them properly.”

You sit the bags down in the kitchen, opting to take the medicine upstairs with you. She takes you to their room.

Tommy is propped up in his bed watching as Billy plays videogames from his spot on the floor.

“Tommy, Billy, this is my friend Y/n. She’s going to help us out today,” Wanda introduces you.

“The library lady,” Billy sounds congested as he speaks.

You nod your head enthusiastically, “ Yep, that’s me. I heard you boys were sick, so I brought some stuff to make you feel better.”

Tommy gags, “Ew medicine.”

You sympathize with him, “Ew is right, but it’s worth it I promise. In fact, I’ll sweeten the deal, you guys take your medicine, and I’ll make you the best soup of your life in return.”

“Better than mom’s?” Billy questions.

“ 1 million times better,” you egg him on.

Tommy is more hesitant, “I don’t know.”

You get closer to him, crouching so you can meet his level, “How about when you’re feeling better, we go out to the arcade and get some ice cream too.”

That seems to be enough for the boy, “That sounds awesome.”

While you’re chatting with them Wanda starts to prepare the medicine cups for the boys. They take the medicine with all the dramatics that children do.

“Ok, we’ll be back to check on you guys, shortly. Billy, get some socks baby. Tommy stay under the covers sweetheart."

The both of you exit the room and head back down the stairs. Wanda moves to start unloading the groceries, but you stop her.

“If you’re not going to fully rest, at least sit. I can make the soup,” you point to the barstools she has in her kitchen.

“Are you sure? I can help-"

You block her from opening the next bag. She looks into your gaze, which holds no feeling of malice or resentment. Instead she finds a warn and tender look behind your eyes.

“I’ve got it.”

She listens to your directions and takes a seat

She watches as you prep the ingredients, ever so often asking where she keeps certain things. Otherwise there is a fluid motion to your movements in the kitchen.

“You know you don't have to take them to the arcade just because they took the medicine, right?”

You pause slightly from chopping vegetables to look up at her, “I probably should’ve asked if it was okay with you first, but I don’t mind taking them. They seem like good kids, which isn’t a surprise at all considering they’re your kids.”

She beams at your words, “They’re a little more docile in this state, but they can be a handful at times. We haven’t really had a big outing like that since the divorce, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

“Then consider it done, as soon as they’re better let me know. We can all go out and have some fun.”

Wanda can’t help the feeling she gets hearing you talk so nonchalantly about going out with her kids. It’s something like a spark, that she hasn’t felt in a long time. She takes this time to really look at you, you’re stunning. Truth be told Wanda had always found you a little attractive, but she wrote it off as you just being conventionally good looking. However now, with you standing in her kitchen cooking for her and her kids. She’s starting to think it’s more than that.

“Do you like children, Y/n?”

“I have a soft spot for kids, it’s partially why I chose to work at the library. I had kind of a rough upbringing as a kid. It was just me and my mom, and money wasn’t all that great, but I remember her taking me to almost all the community events they hosted at the library. We spent a lot of time there. When I was old enough to go on my own, it was rare that I didn’t go. The library is such a haven for kids it’s one of my favorite things about it.”

Wanda felt herself melting under the sincerity of your words, “That’s really sweet.”

You start cooking down the vegetables before you answer, “Yeah, if I wasn’t so crazy about the library, I would’ve been a chef. I actually applied to a few culinary schools in high school, pretty ambitious but I had won a few competitions. I had offers and full ride scholarships to some of the best schools out there, but I chose to become a librarian instead.”

Wanda tilts her head to the side playfully, “So you weren’t just talking shit when you said you’re going to make a soup 1 million times better than mine.”

You laugh, “Technically I’m using the ingredients that you told me to get, so it’s more like our soup. I’m just tweaking a few measurements and cooking it a little different. It’s like a group project, if you will.”

Wanda laughs even harder, “You’re so full of shit.”

“Language, there are children present.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “They’re upstairs."

“Children have super good hearing Wanda, trust me, I’m a librarian.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle. She watches as the soup comes together a lovely aroma fills the kitchen, her mouth waters at just the smell.

“It smells delicious.”

You motion her over to the stove next to you. She scurries over, which makes you smile. She looks utterly adorable and ethereal at the same time. You began to notice it over the last few times you had hung out. Wanda was simultaneously the cutest and the most beautiful woman, you think you’d ever met in your life

“Taste,” you hold a spoon full of soup up for her.

She hesitates a little, but decides to just eat from the spoon while you hold it. Her eyes close as the flavors dance on her tongue. She lets out an involuntary moan, that has her blushing as soon as it leaves her mouth.

“Oh my god, that’s the best soup I’ve ever had in my life,” Wanda stares at you in awe.

“I hope the boys think so too.”

Wanda helps you fill the bowls for them, “They’re going to love it.”

True to her words the boys devour the soup going as far as to ask for seconds. Neither of you can deny them another bowl. Once they eat, you can see the food working in tandem with the medicine to tucker them out. Before they’re completely out of it you and Wanda get them ready for bed.

It feels more normal than either of you expected. By the time you’re done, both twins are now in bed. The tv plays something at a low volume, but you and Wanda are both aware that the kids will likely be asleep as soon as you leave the room.

When you leave you head back to the kitchen fixing 2 more bowls of soup for Wanda and yourself. You eat amongst each other with small chatter, but it’s comfortable. When you’re done, you almost have to fight Wanda to allow you to do the dishes.

She pouts, once again sitting at the barstool watching you clean.

“You haven’t let me help this whole time,” she whines.

“I’m here to help you, not the other way around,” you remind her.

Wanda places her hands on her hips, “But if you’re doing everything, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just sit there and look pretty,” you say without thinking.

Wanda feels her face heating up, losing track of how many times it has happened today alone, “Look pretty, huh?”

You can feel your ears heating with embarrassment, “oh I- well.”

“Oh my god are your ears turning red, that’s literally adorable. Are you flustered, Y/n?” Wanda teases.

You glare at her with faux-anger, “My ears? Your cheeks are just as red.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

You wash your hands, quickly drying them before approaching her. You keep walking until there is virtually no space between the two of you. You look down at her, you don’t stop your eyes from dropping to her lips.

“Oh really?”

She looks up at you, her cheeks indeed, red like you had mentioned.

“And if they were?”

“Maybe I’d say that it’s adorable,” you use her words against her. “Or maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Her eyes dart to your lips.

You look back into her eyes, “Maybe, I’d kiss you.”

“I’d like that.”

That was all you needed to hear. She met you halfway and, in an instant, you were kissing. Your hand rested on the small of her back, while her hands locked around your neck. It was cliché but it was cute. The kiss itself was respectable, but still filled with a feeling of longing.

Wanda’s hands drop from your neck to lightly push you back, “I’m divorced with two kids Y/n-"

You stop her before she can even rant, “I know, Wanda. I’ve been here, maybe not the whole time, but most of it. I don’t care that you’re divorced and I’d love to get to know your kids. I’d love to get to know you better.”

“I feel like you already know me, Y/n. We’ve been friends for over a year now. We’ve spent so much time together, I’m just surprised you’re not tired of me yet.”

You take her hands in yours, “I could never get tired of you. I’m quite literally asking for more. Let me take you out some time.”

“Are you sure?”

It’s bold, but you place a quick kiss on her lips, “Positive."

From there things just seem to fall into place. You kept your promise to the boys, taking them out when they recovered from their sickness. Wanda was impressed by how well you mingled with them considering her ex always seemed to struggle to relate. However you, had no problem tapping into that childlike like amazement that the kids felt.

Soon after that outing, you and Wanda went on your first real date. You took her out to a nice restaurant. It was an upscale establishment, the prices weren’t even on the menu. Wanda tried to fret about how she didn’t know if she deserved this kind of treatment, but you always reassured her.

You believe she deserved the best and as long as you could give it to her you would.

It only took 4 dates before you asked her to be you girlfriends, not being the best at waiting. Luckily for you she agreed and truth be told if you would’ve asked her on the first date she probably would’ve said yes then.

At this point you’ve been dating for a little over a year. The twins are with their father for the weekend, and Wanda is staying over at your apartment.

The two of you are on the couch. She’s resting in your arms as you watch tv, “Wanda.”

She looks up, “Yes, detka.”

“How attached are you to your house?”

Her eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You hold her gaze, “Is it crazy if I say that I want us to live together?”

Wanda plays with your fingers, “No, I don't think so.”

You kiss her forehead, “It’s just a thought.”

“You want to buy a house?”

You nod curtly, “We don't have to leave the area, I know the boys have school and I wouldn't want to pull them away or make them start fresh or anything, but I’ve been looking at some homes in the area. Something a little bigger, Billy and Tommy could both have their own room and a huge backyard. Maybe a dog, in the future.”

Wanda cups your face gently, pulling you down to kiss her, “I would love to buy a home with you Y/n.”

“Really?”

Wanda kisses you again, “Really.”

“I love you,” your eyes softening as the words fall from your lips.

“I love you too.”

Your lips are connected again, this time neither of you break the kiss. Instead Wanda shifts in your lap to straddle your waist. Her hands playing with the tiny hairs on the back of your neck. Your hands start at her thigh but end up sliding up to her hips, and soon your fingers are in contact with the cool skin of her stomach.

You aren’t able to stop yourself from kissing down her jaw. She moves her hair and cranes her neck to give you more access. Your teeth sink into her neck only for your tongue to soothe the skin. You suck the spot tenderly, causing little whines to emanate from Wanda.

“Y/n,” your name is breathless on her lips.

She doesn't have to say anything else for you to stand up with her still in your arms. You carry her to the bedroom. Once you’re in there and her feet are on the floor, you pull her shirt off. Yours follows after.

Wanda feels herself getting wet under your gaze. The way you take in her bare chest, eyes blown with want. While you stare she gets rid of the rest of her clothes. You eagerly do the same.

You pull her flush against your body. Skin heating upon contact.

“You’re perfect,” your thumb toys with one of her nipples.

Your head dips to take it into your mouth. You suck lightly, ever so often slowly fanning your tongue over the nipple. You do the same to the other nipple, while your hand cups her warmth. You moan at her wetness.

“ I need you,” she whispers.

You kiss her tenderly, backing her onto the bed. You’re gentle as you ease two fingers into her. She arches her back slightly, and her kiss becomes sloppier.

You’re in no rush as you slowly build pace. Her finger nails dig into your back.

“More please,” she buries her head in your neck.

You begin pumping at a faster pace, using your thumb to stimulate her clit. Her ragged breaths in your ear only turn you on even more.

You jolt as you feel her hand in-between your legs. Her fingers play through your folds and you hear her gasp in your ear.

“All for me baby?”

You nod, “All for you, Wands. Can I taste you, baby?”

“Fuck,” Wanda murmurs.

She pulls her fingers from you, signaling for you to suck them. You take them in your mouth, swirling you tongue around the digits, high off of your own taste.

Once her fingers exit your mouth, you maneuver down her body. You momentarily take your fingers out of her. She doesn’t have time to complain before you’re sucking on her clit.

“Holy shit,” she entangles her hands through your hair.

You keep eye contact with her as you lick, suck, and slurp her pussy. She throws her head back, taking her lip between her teeth. You can see sweat illuminating her body.

Soon you add your fingers back and you can feel her approaching her edge.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she keeps repeating the mantra as she reach her peak.

You don’t stop when she cums on your tongue, only slowing your motions, to help her come back down.

“You did so good for me baby,” you say kissing up to her lips.

She shifts so her thigh is against your dripping cunt, “Your turn, my love. Use me.”

You see her flex her thigh, which causes you to moan, “Fuck, Wanda.”

Your hands rest on her shoulder as you begin to grind down on her. Her hands are on you, but the movements are all yours. Wanda watches with blown eyes as you fuck yourself on her thigh. Her hands climb up your sides to massage your breasts. You bite your lip as her fingers play with your nipples.

Wanda sits up slightly, just enough to get her mouth on your body. She sucks on near the top of your breasts, trailing hickeys across.

“I love it when you make a mess on my thigh, cum for me, moya lyubov.”

You cum all over her thigh. Her arms wrap around your midsection holding you steady as you shake. Her head rests against your chest, listening to your wild heart beat return to normal. She places a delicate kiss on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

You kiss the top of her head, “I love you too.”

Once you’re both cleaned up, you settle in bed for the night. You’re start out as the big spoon but soon Wanda turns to face you.

“I was so scared before you came into my life,« she admits.

“Wanda-"

She shakes her head, “Let me finish. I was so lost, I didn't know what to do, if there was anything I could do to feel like myself again. There were so many days I went through thinking I was unlovable. Then you show up, and all of those feelings and thoughts just leave. I’ve never felt so cared for. You make me remember all of the things I love about myself. You make love seem so easy, it feels obvious when you’re with me. I’ve never experienced a love like you’ve given me and I need you to know I love you too. I’ve never felt what I feel for you with anyone else.”

Wanda starts out loud and sure, but by the end her voice is quiet. She doesn’t break eye contact, fighting against her insecurities.

There are no more words shared between the two of you. Wanda kisses you with everything she is feeling and you return her fervor. She pecks you again before burying her head in your chest. You hold her tightly in your arms wondering how you ended up being so lucky.

Her words make emotion swell inside of you. Your voice cracks when you speak, “You are the love of my life. I was doing alright before, but you and the boys are truly everything I’ve been missing in my life. Getting to be with you, a part of your family, it means everything to me Wanda. Thank you, for letting me love you.”

[gyaruhana]

hii I was js wondering if u cld write some headcannons or a scenario for yandere myung gi (player 333) nothing specificc

Myung-gi/Player 333 - Yandere Headcannons

Synopsis: Headcannons of Myung-gi liking you just a little too much.. (okay, it's way more than a little)

A/N: cute idea i like !!

Warnings: obsessive behavior, yandere content, kidnapping, murder, stalking

➠ Yandere Myung-gi is such a good thought..

➠ Likely watched you from afar at first but not in a stalker-ish way

➠ Moreso he'd stare at you if you were nearby and think about how you are so very pretty

➠ although, to be fair, he did find all your social media profiles when he got home but that was the most of it !!

➠ he only got obsessive when he saw you talking to some guy and felt quite angry

➠ from there he started stalking you to your house, to your job- everywhere just to make sure no one else was pining after you.

➠ if someone was, he'd leave a very ominous message about staying away from you or harm would come to the persons family

➠ Of course, it was all just threats to scare people away.

➠ eventually, he wormed his way into your life with a cute smile and a flushed face

➠ you could never think he was a bad guy because he seemed so cute and genuine when he asked you out

➠ That was a mistake

➠ You agreeing to go out with him made his obsession with you a million times worse

➠ First time he went to your house he may have, or may have not, stolen your underwear and uh.. you could guess what he did with that when he went home.

➠ He just really likes your scent okay !!

➠ In front of you, he's a total sweetheart. Behind your back, he's fucking crazy

➠ the first time he killed someone was when a guy flirted with you after Myung-gi left you alone for just a moment

➠ something in him just snapped that day and that guy who had the audacity to come close to you was now in his room, tied up, and having his fingers cut off one by one

➠ Cut the guys tongue off as well before killing him because he wanted the guy to learn a lesson about daring to talk to his girl like that

➠ from then, he didn't shy away from killing people who even looked at you

➠ you were unaware about what he was up to because he was so very careful when cleaning up

➠ You didn't figure it out until it was far too late and he had you in the palm of his hand

➠ When he finally admits what he's done for you (or you find out and confront him), he's begging you to stay

➠ He'd really rather not hurt you at all

➠ But if you try to leave he's quick to knock you out

➠ absolutely does kidnap you and apologizes over and over again while saying that he's doing it for your own good

➠ overall, very protective and wants you all to himself

"I'm really sorry, baby, but you were trying to leave me," he spoke with an apologetic tone as his thumb gently stroked your cheek. Your hands and legs were bound to a chair as you struggled against it, tears filling your eyes. The sight made Myung-gi's heart ache but he knew this was for your own good. He couldn't let you leave him - not when you were soulmates. "Don't cry.. I'll keep you safe from everyone else,"

[puckinghischier]

Going off the exes to lovers w/ Quinn…

You guys are still in the same friend group so sometimes you still have to see each other during gatherings or in passing and it’s just little things that Quinn does or says that makes you realize you never fell out of love with him. Like he knew you were coming out on the boat for the day with them so he stocked up on your fav snacks to put on the boat. Or maybe he heard you were sick from his brothers so he insta carts stuff to your house. Just things that makes it blatantly obvious that he still cares.

oh he’s using every opportunity. you drank too much and need a ride home from the bar? he stopped drinking the second you ordered your third drink.

you mention in a gc you’ve been craving a certain type of food? it shows up at your door in an hour.

your friend mentions that you’ve been feeling homesick lately? your parents, somehow, mysteriously, found the money in their budget for a couple of place tickets to see you.

he would be so subtle, so nonchalant with it you don’t even notice until you look back. it’s like he never left. he’s always just…there. waiting.

it’s not like the two of you had some big, blow out break up. it was more so like you still loved him, but you needed to love yourself more. so you’re still friendly. you still speak when in groups together and you still frequent games.

but it’s like his presence in your life never really faltered, even though the absence is what you said you needed.

so one day, when you pretended to order drinks, you noticed the way his glass stayed empty as long as yours stayed full. you mentioned in a gc without him you were craving italian food, and for once, it never showed up.

you kept noticing all the things he was still doing for you, and against your will, your resolve cracked. you knew he loved you, and you still loved him, but you figured he’d quit paying attention after awhile.

but he never did.

and when you confronted him about it? well…he didn’t even deny any of it. he admitted to it like he was saying the sky was blue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well, why would i stop? you need someone to look after you, and i don’t trust anyone else to do it, so why stop doing what i love for who i love?”

his words were like a punch to your gut, because why, why couldn’t he have just said those things when you two were together?

“quinn, it’s not that simple. you just weren’t…there.”

that? saying he was never there? that made him angry. because while he may not have been physically there, he was always there.

“that’s bullshit. that’s bullshit and you know it. yeah, i might not have been able to be with you all the time, but don’t ever fucking tell me i wasn’t there, y/n, because i’ve always only ever been there.”

he points to your chest as he says it. his outburst surprises you, but it makes you think.

yeah, maybe he was gone all the time, but somehow your car always stayed cleaned and serviced, without you even realizing. maybe he was in a different country most of the time, but there was never a lack of fresh flowers in your apartment. maybe he wasn’t able to be on his phone all the time, but your voicemail was never empty, sweet recordings littering the inbox.

so yeah, maybe he wasn’t always there, but he was never really absent, was he?

as you stand there looking at a red faced and angry, but mostly hurt, quinn, you think…maybe he’s always meant to be there, clouding your thoughts and filling the ache in your chest you forced him to leave.

[bbokicidal]

where has the time gone? | [SKZ]

genre: angst pairing: skz ot8 x reader warnings: major character death in every scenario <- read at your own discretion

may flowers grow in the saddest parts of you.

1 year, 2 months, 14 days.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Chris coos as his hands gently tighten around the bouquet pressed into his chest. There's a soft silence that falls between the two of you and he can't help but smile, knowing it's unavoidable when he's at a loss for words - and he's the only one who can speak. "I brought you these. I remembered they were your favorite," the plastic crinkles under his fingertips, slowly moving to kneel down and hand the bouquet over. The damp grass of the early morning stains his jeans and yet he can't bring himself to care when the feeling is nothing compared to the overwhelming cold of not being able to hold you in his arms. His breathing is stuttered, shaky and warm as it leaves his lips. A hand places gently atop the heavy stone in front of him; Your name engraved with your birth - and death - date. Already over a year ago... "I wish you were here with me."

1 year, 27 days.

Minho's lip curls into his teeth and he bites down. He was grateful your mother let him in here whenever he needed it; Showing up with no warning only to be let in with warm hugs and soft welcomes, whispers that he could stay as long as he wanted. Your childhood bedroom was so... inexplicably you. Books, games, an old television, and lots of old knick knacks like a doll here and there or a blanket now stained with wear and tear. He knows your mother wouldn't mind if he touched things, moved stuff around or maybe even cleaned it up a little. But he wanted to leave it the way it was when you last touched everything. He felt that if he disturbed the peace the room brought him, your spirit would be gone for good. The closest he came was letting his back rest against your bedpost as he sat on the ground and took it all in, eyes swelling with tears. He knew he needed to stop coming here, stop disturbing your family with his presence, but he didn't want to let go.

1 year.

Changbin's hands wrap tight around the balcony railing. The metal was stained with the cold and it bit at his palms and fingertips, gnawing at him to let go. Though truth be told it didn't bother him at all - He was too busy overlooking the city lights surrounding his hotel room. He knew he'd be here a year ago today; But he was supposed to be here with you. On your anniversary together, celebrating and drinking wine, eating chocolates, tangling your limbs together in the bed and enjoying each other's presence in the city of love. But because he was stupid and offered to take you out for drinks later in the evening, a year ago today, you weren't here. The memory of the driver, intoxicated and bleary, ramming into the front of the company car makes his hands tighten around the railing in anger. Who was he to take you from him? What made him hate his life so much that he had to take another's instead? Changbin seethes on the instead, jaw clenched and tears pouring down soft cheeks usually filled with small smiles. He lets out a breath; slow, tired, pissed. But he knows that you would want him to enjoy his time in Paris even if he'd gone with the others because you weren't around anymore - so he'll do his best to relax and have fun while he can. Even if the overwhelming guilt is forever lingering.

10 months, 19 days.

"It hasn't even been a year and you're asking me to get over it." Hyunjin sobs as he pushes his palms into his eyes, fingers curled tight into fists and body wracking with his cries. "I can't just forget about them! I don't know what you - expect from me!" He can feel someone's arms wrap around him from his right and he knows immediately that it's Felix, curling up close to him and pressing his cheek into Hyunjin's shoulder with a frown. He knew Hyunjin was more angry than anything about your passing - knew that he wasn't ready to quit mourning just yet. But he couldn't keep letting it show during interviews, on stage, or during other performances. Hyunjin cried when he realized you weren't backstage to cheer him on at concerts, or had angry outbursts when anyone would talk about you and joke about things you use to say or do because he thought of it as them slandering your name even if it was a simple discussion. He couldn't stand people laughing at the memory of you because what was there to laugh at? You were dead. And with your passing, a part of him that was lighter, giggly and... happy - disappeared as well.

not yet corpses; still, we rot.

8 months, 4 days.

Jisung sits with his head down on the desk, arms thrown over the back of his head and fingers grasping hard at his hoodie sleeves. The song that plays over the studio speakers is one he had produced almost a year ago now; a softer melody, something close to "13" - a song you loved more than any of the songs that came out on their albums. He never told you - he never got the chance to - but he'd been making the song for you. Back then when you'd heard it there were no lyrics - just a sweet instrumental that made you feel like you should be dancing in a ballroom to the music, or like you belonged in a romance movie with the song playing in the background. But now... Now, he'd integrated the words he'd meant to say to you all along.

"If everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light. (-Rumi)"

3 months, 5 days, 13 hours.

Felix's head felt heavy. Clouded. Dull. Broken. How long had he been on hiatus, now...? How long would it continue? Was he letting his fans down? Oh, right now he.. truthfully couldn't be bothered to care. As much as he adored them, everyone, he felt like he had to put himself first - even if it meant disappearing from the Earth for a few months so he could grieve the loss of his favorite person in the world. He'd returned home only a few days after it had happened, giving the boys little time to see him before he left for Australia to be away from the scene of the crime. He knew it was a freak accident, knew it never should have happened, but he also knew that if he had been two steps closer, an arm's length away - you might still be with him right now. Everything would be okay. You'd be back in the dorms cuddling or baking together, smacking each other with flour and making a mess so big even Seungmin couldn't fathom it. Or maybe, if he'd been too close to you in that moment, both of you would be gone. He shouldn't be thinking it, but... maybe that would have been better than living in a world without you.

27 days.

Seungmin wasn't sure how to feel. He was one of the group members known for being quiet, minding his own business and being a bit stoic compared to the others. But this behavior was... new. The way his jaw clenched at every mention of your name, or the way his body tensed and his hands curled into fists when he saw pictures of you. He felt an overwhelming frustration each time someone brought you up in conversation, feeling as though speaking about it would make him relive the memory of seeing the moment your body collapsed into nothing. Seungmin hated everyone who spoke about you even if it was in a positive light because he didn't want them to keep bringing you up - every mention of your name made his heart tighten in his chest until it felt like he was suffocating. And it pained him even more that people thought he wasn't grieving. Because he wasn't openly crying in public or speaking about you to the masses of media. He saw the way people spoke about him online, calling him a liar, a fake; Saying his love for you was never real. So in dealing with all of his emotions, Seungmin went home every night and laid in his bed, face buried down into his pillow. He let it build up, let the tears finally flow from his eyes, and screamed into the memory foam so loud that Felix could hear it from the next room over while gaming. He'd sob into the pillow until his throat was raw, curling up around himself and pulling his blanket over his head. People were talking about you, and now about him, too. And he didn't know how to handle it.

16 hours.

Jeongin sat in silence, but his head screamed every fews seconds for him to do something. There, on the couch in his dorm, Jeongin sat stiff with his hands digging into his knees as Chan sat nearby - rubbing gently over his back and quietly talking about how they could make arrangements, celebrate your life even if you were gone; But Jeongin heard none of it. His ears were ringing; a constant, nonstop screech that pained him to sit through, all while his thoughts were whirling around in his head like a raging dust storm that clouded all other thoughts of peace and contentedness. Get up. Go to them. Go to the hospital. Go identify them even if it's not your place. Get up. Go to the hospital. Get up. Get up. Go to them. Go to them. Go. Anywhere. Away. Go away. Go away.

He choked, and Chan stopped talking. He watched as Jeongin's eyes finally welled with tears. It was one of the only times Chan had seen Jeongin so emotional with tears pooling down his face in heavy streams of grief, his chest jerking with every breath until he was breaking down in his Hyung's arms and allowing himself to be held. Even if he went to you, you wouldn't be there. You wouldn't be smiling at him, greeting him with sparkling eyes. He would never see you again. He would never hear your voice again. And how was he supposed to live with that?

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[starlight-sev]

A View From Above (Severus Snape x Reader)

Or, that time you shared New Years Eve with a kindred spirit.

A/N: Happy (belated) holidays! I hope this season treated you well. This is a gentle, fluffy one, a hug in writing form to anyone who may find the holidays to be a struggle. It’s not always an easy time, and I’m thinking of you ❤️

The cold night air bit at your cheeks as you nestled yourself further into the nook of the Astronomy tower. It may have been cramped, and not to mention near freezing, but it had one of the most beautiful viewpoints in the entire castle.

And not to mention the quiet. This was the only place you were able to clear your head properly.

“You’re not off at the party with the rest of the staff.” The sudden remark nearly made you jump, despite being quietly spoken. You shifted in your little corner, looking up to find Severus standing a few feet away. He wore his trademark stern expression, but for a split second you could’ve sworn he was biting back a smirk.

“I thought you were a student, the way you’re all crammed up in there.” Severus nodded to your little corner, and this time a tiny smile did make it to his face. “I was ready to take points away and send you to detention in the morning.”

You snorted, pushing yourself up out of your corner to properly greet your coworker. While you wouldn’t go so far as to call Severus your friend (he’d have your head if you did, probably), you felt… comfortable around him. It was more than could be said about the other staff.

“Drew the short straw and got put on patrol, I guess?” You asked, stretching your legs a little as you moved to lean against the guardrail of the tower. Severus followed suit as he settled in beside you, scoffing.

“They’ve come to know over the years that I never attend Dumbledore’s bloody holiday parties. Since I don’t go, I get patrol duty. It’s become… an unspoken rule.”

Severus paused, gazing curiously at you.

“Had I known you wouldn’t be attending tonight’s party either,” he continued slowly. “I would’ve volunteered you for patrol tonight.”

“Why?” You retorted with a small laugh. “Missing out on the festivities now, after the fact?”

“No,” Severus drawled. He rolled his eyes at you, but you caught the small huff of a laugh that left him. “It would be nice to celebrate the new year in peace. Alone. Like you’re doing now.”

“Well…” you thought for a moment. “You can stay here with me. I won’t say a word, it’ll be like you’re alone.”

As you looked out at the lake, you caught Severus turn to gaze at you properly out of your peripheral vision. Heat crept up to your cheeks, and you kept your gaze on the water below.

“You went away for the holidays.”

You blinked in surprise, finally turning to meet Severus’s gaze.

“I’m surprised you noticed I was gone.”

He nodded. “But you came back early. classes don’t start for almost another week.”

Despite the constant statements, your co-worker’s dark eyes were filled with questions. You usually appreciated Severus and his matter-of-fact nature, but things were feeling… too close.

“My family.” You sighed, not wanting to go into too much detail. “The holidays are hard. I go visit because I have to, but this year was too much.”

You braced yourself for more questions, but to your surprise Severus simply nodded.

“The holidays are godawful.” He murmured.

“Is that why you never go home for Christmas and New Years?”

Severus pressed his lips together in a thin line. Now he was the one to keep his gaze on the lake below.

“Let’s just say, I’ve burned many bridges over the years.”

You gazed at him, watching the way memories of his past left a murky darkness in his eyes. You shuffled over a bit more, instinctively wanting to provide some sort of comfort, to let him know you understood. To your surprise, Severus didn’t step away.

“Want to know why I come up here?” You asked softly. Severus raised an eyebrow in question.

You beckoned him back over to your little corner a few feet away, and crouched down to the small window.

“Here, squeeze in,” you murmured, tucking your knees in and wrapping your arms around your legs. Severus glared at you skeptically.

“You’re much smaller than I am.”

“Oh, stop it. You’ll fit. Come on. Just tuck your legs in a bit.”

A ragged sigh and an unintelligible grumble later, Severus was crammed into your little spot beside you. You were surprised at how warm he was, despite the cold air that drifted around you.

“See there? Down there, to the right?” You pointed through the window to a far-away cluster of tiny lights. “It’s a village. Right at midnight, they set off the most beautiful fireworks. From here, they’re so small, it’s like watching them from space almost. It’s nice, without all the noise and chaos of actually being there.”

You glanced quickly at the time and smiled. “It’ll be midnight soon. Not much longer now.”

“You can’t- argh, my leg-” Severus cut himself off as he shifted positions, trying to fit beside you comfortably. Your knees knocked together and you tried your best to shuffle in further to give him a bit more space. Your hands brushed together as a result, and you fought to ignore the way your heart jumped.

“You can’t see this from anywhere else more comfortable?” He asked, his voice strained. You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle.

“No. The lookout doesn’t stretch this far. If you’re lucky you’ll maybe catch one or two fireworks if they go astray, but this is the only place where you can see them all.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, save for Severus shifting every now and then to keep his legs from cramping up as he sat beside you.

“Have you ever been kissed on New Year’s?” You murmured softly, resting your hand against your cheek. The look of surprise on Severus’s face mirrored your own feelings as you realize what you just said. You expected Severus to scoff at you in his usual tone, but to his surprise he shook his head.

“No. I suppose going to parties would’ve certainly helped with that, however.”

You held back a laugh, only to let it bubble up as Severus glanced at you with perhaps the only warm smile you’d ever seen him show.

“And you?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “But it was… odd. It felt forced. We were both drunk.”

“How romantic.” You laughed once more at the sarcasm that was evident in Severus’s reply. “You’re really selling the tradition from how you’ve described it.”

“You’ve really never been kissed at midnight?”

“Was my first answer not clear enough?”

Despite the biting reply, there was laughter in his eyes.

“No, just… I’m surprised, that’s all. It’s something everyone should experience just once.”

“So is getting hungover, but you don’t see me scrambling to experience it ever again. Besides, who are you to talk? You just said your New Year’s kiss was awful.”

“I never said that!” You protested, only to receive another signature glare. “It was just…”

Severus snorted. “Certainly wasn’t good, from the sound of it.”

“Okay fine,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. “It wasn’t good. But it wasn’t awful either.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

You laughed, elbowing Severus teasingly. To your surprise, he nudged you back gently.

“I’m glad it was you that found me up here.” You murmured, pulling your knees a little closer to your chest. Severus gazed at you, smirking.

“Why? Filius or even Minerva would’ve enjoyed this spot. At least they would’ve fit.”

“Not that.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just… you’re the only one I feel I can be myself around. Like now. I’d never be able to talk about this kind of thing with anyone else.”

Severus gazed at you silently, his eyebrows knitting into a tiny frown as he processed your words.

“Sorry. That came out of nowhere.”

“Don’t apologize.” He replied softly. He didn’t say anything more, but there was a comforting warmth that filled his eyes. No words were exchanged, but you felt as though you understood.

A tiny spark flashed in the corner of your eye, and you glanced out the window as tiny fireworks bloomed in the distance.

“Oh.” You gasped softly. “We missed the countdown. It’s midnight.”

“Mm. So it is.”

You turned your gaze to Severus, whose gaze was fully absorbed in the fireworks. The conversation from a few minutes earlier ran through your mind, and you leaned forward to press a tiny kiss to Severus‘s cheek. He gazed at you, bewildered.

“Happy New Year.” You managed to squeak out. The shock faded from his eyes, and it was replaced by that familiar warmth as he softened. Severus dipped his head respectfully in acknowledgement.

“Happy New Year.”

The two of you sat together in silence, watching the fireworks. Then, to your surprise, Severus tapped your arm lightly.

“This, us tonight, stays up here?”

To your surprise, it wasn’t a statement. You could see there was a bit of nervousness in his eyes. You nodded.

“Yes. Of course. This is our secret. Why do you ask?”

The air felt heavy for a moment as Severus paused in thought, before closing the already-small distance between the two of you. He pressed his lips softly to yours, caressing your face with both of his hands. In the back of your mind, it hit you that he was gentle and calculated in literally everything he did, not just potions. It made your head spin, and your heart race.

The fireworks were over by the time the two of you pulled away. Severus let his gaze fall away, but you caught his hands in yours before he could pull away completely. You squeezed his hands reassuringly to let him know it was okay, and he returned your action with a kind smile.

“Hopefully that… wasn’t as awful as your last New Year’s kiss?”

You let out a giggle, and felt a rush of pure joy run through you as Severus shared your laughter.

“That was, by far, the best. And hopefully not the last?” You added shyly.

In response, Severus leaned in and kissed you again.

[palmerzy]

I love reading your blurbs, and I have had this thought. Spence is a munch, we know this. also based on the blurb about him loving the readers mouth

I'm just thinking, Spencer and 69ing?

thank you anon!! munch spencer + oral (receiving) fixation spencer is a heavenly combination, let’s be real. this is a little shorter than usual, but enjoy nonetheless ‼️

ps: if you’ve sent in a request, i promise i’ll get to it, but i have 20+ at the moment so it may take some time, as much as i’d love to be able to sit down and write for hours, i simply cant :(

NSFW! - explicit sexual themes.

the pair of you would definitely prefer to do it with spencer beneath you, just so you have more control over how much of him you take into your mouth. plus, what vice would spencer find more sufficient than having you sit on his face whilst your mouth is working him too?

he’d be a little skeptical over the whole idea at first, because he likes to see your face when he’s between your thighs, or when you’re between his thighs, and he likes to see your reactions. but that first time he felt your muffled moan around his cock whilst his tongue teased at your clit was practically heaven on earth, and he’s been an advocate for sixty-nineing ever since.

once he realises how good it feels for the both of you, it’s probably your go-to foreplay act. he’s so eager, laying back on the bed with his hands out, ready to grasp onto your ass for nothing more than leverage, of course, as he buries his face into the paradise of your nectar.

as someone who loves giving and receiving equally, he’s certain if the afterlife is real, this is how he wants to spend it. with you on top of him, your hips grinding against his face whilst you take all of him into your welcoming throat, nails digging into his thighs, his own hands groping desperately at your backside.

spencer also strangely finds it comforting when the two of you are like this. his world narrows down to you, how you feel above him, and nothing seems to matter when your mouths are occupied by one another, both of you seeking the same thing - to make the other come. he thrives on the idea of working together like this, of exuding your passions through a few strokes of your tongues, until he realises he’s making it deeper than it is, and he snaps back to reality, lips encasing your bundle of nerves.

he tries his best to not take his mouth off of you, but sometimes a certain swirl of your tongue or hollow of your cheeks has his head tipping back, hips fighting the urge to buck up into your mouth. “fuck, that’s perfect, don’t stop, mmph, gonna keep tasting you, i promise,” he’d whine, never one to back down from a promise as he’d lift his head again to bring you both to the brink.

spencer mimics your movements sometimes - a swirl of your tongue around the tip of his cock would earn you a swirl around your entrance, or your clit. if you ever added your hand into the mix, wrapping around the base and squeezing lightly, he’d lift his own hand, fingertips teasing at your entrance until he’s plunging them into you as he slurps at your folds.

he occasionally accidentally bucks his hips, hearing you gag around him, with the feeling having his eyes rolling heavenward in an instant. he’s cautious, though, and he doesn’t want to hurt you in a position where he can’t see how you’re doing. he can feel every tiny touch of your tongue against his cock, though, and being able to taste your sweetness in tandem has his balls tightening up quicker than he’d like to admit.

coming like this is probably one of the most enjoyable things for the two of you. having spencer squeak and whimper into your clit as he suckles it with desperation before thrusting up just once, emptying his release into your throat, is enough to spiral your own orgasm. it pretty much plays out like that every time, coming in unison or one after the other. he’s drunk on the feeling of your pussy clenching around his tongue, gushing your release, and he’s eager to lap up every drop - just as you had for his.

[notrebdomine]

Eric Harris medication

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

As most people know, Eric was on Luvox, but before Luvox he took Zoloft. "In a visit to his general physician, Eric's medical records indicate "possible depression" and "mild/ minimal depressive symptoms." In small words, both (Luvox and Zoloft) are SSRI, or "selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor." It increases the amount of serotonin, sometimes called the "feel good" chemical, in the brain.

The first Luvox prescription listed by Breggin comes on April 25, 1998 for twenty-five milligrams. It was doubled to fifty milligrams just over a month later, and doubled again another month later, in early July. Breggin writes that three and a half months before Columbine, the prescriptions indicate Eric's dose was increased. Breggin also writes that on March 13, 1999, just over one month before Columbine, the medical record notes, "It's 'OK' to increase the dose to 200 mg. per day."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

His point of view about taking medication

Eric would go through periods of taking his medication and going off of it. Below is a journal entry that he wrote in regards to his thoughts on being put on medication.

"My doctor wants to put me on medication to stop thinking about so many things and to stop getting angry. well, I think that anyone who doesn't think like me is just bullshitting themselves. try it sometime if you think you are worthy, which you probably will you little shits, drop all your beliefs and views and ideas that have been burned into your head and try to think about why your here. but I bet most of you fuckers cant even think that deep, so that is why you must die. how dare you think that I and you are part of the same species when we are sooooooo different. you aren't human you are a Robot. you don't take advantage of your capabilities given to you at birth. you just drop them and hop onto the boat and head down the stream of life with all the other fuckers of your type. well god damnit I wont be a part of it! I have thought to much, realized to much, found out to much, and I am to self aware to just stop what am thinking and go back to society because what I do and think isn't "right" or "morally accepted" NO, NO, NO, God Fucking damnit NO! I will sooner die than betray my own thoughts. but before I leave this worthless place, I will kill who ever I deem unfit."

Original from his journal, page #6 ↴

In reality, many of Eric's views were a result of his mental health problems, so in that way, he was right that the medication may change his views, but failed to see that it could be a good thing. He also says in one of his personal tapes, "When I don't take my medication it makes me angry. It's working."

He had some problems with the military concerning his status of medication as well, lying about or simply not mentioning his taking of anti-depressants to his recruiter during his medical examination.

[formulawolff]

celebrity — l.h.

pairing -> fem!reader x lewis hamilton

word count -> 2.2k

warnings -> lewis in bf mode, slight angst, cursing, alcohol usage, marijuana use, sexual innuendos, lewis is a FLIRT, reader is slightly insecure, some tears, hurt + comfort (THE BEST TROPE EVER)

a/n -> i am well aware this is not in the garage, but i just can’t stop thinking about this concept. i hope i did it justice!

“you look beautiful.”

heat flourishes into your cheeks, your palms clamming as his hand drifts toward your thigh, grasping the heated skin. he flashes you a smirk as his thumb delves underneath the fabric of your gown.

“easy there,” you murmur, head connecting with his shoulder, “we don’t want to be late.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“i think a few minutes wouldn’t—“

“lewis.” you tut, and he picks up the way your eyes roll in the rear view mirror, “i’m already an anxious wreck. now is not the time.”

“i’m just trying to put a smile on that sweet face,” he counters, yet his tone is light, “you’ve just been so uptight today. all i’ve seen for hours is that tight-lipped frown. the one you wear when you’re dreading something or super worried.”

you shrug, gaze darting toward the passenger window, “i just hate work-related events. especially around the holidays. why do they even matter?”

as fate would have it, your boyfriend, lewis hamilton, would be accompanying you to a gala hosted by your agency. it was the annual holiday ball, where all of the employees were invited to dress their best, encouraged to bring along a plus one.

due to lewis’ hectic schedule during the year, it was difficult to find a window of time to see one another. add in a time zone difference along with your own line of work, and it was almost impossible.

however, lewis made no exceptions when it came to you.

if it was something involving you, he would find time.

no matter what.

and just a couple of days ago, he flew into chicago, so that he could be with you for all of the holiday celebrations. although you had only been dating for about a year, you knew it was time to introduce him to not only your family, but your coworkers as well.

so what better way to introduce him than a work-related party?

yet, it wasn’t that easy.

lewis was no ordinary man. he was a seven time world champion, a highly decorated and coveted athlete in his sport. he spent his weekends driving at speeds well over two hundred miles an hour. he was sponsored by tommy hilfiger, owned a brand, and was even knighted.

he was well-known all around the world, even by those who were not formula one fans.

everyone knew sir lewis hamilton.

and what the world didn’t know, was that he had a girlfriend.

an american girl, merely twenty-three years old.

so naturally, you were a little apprehensive about tonight.

especially if people started to snap photos and post them.

that aspect was the most terrifying part of it all. what would people think? what would his fans say about you? what rumors would the tabloids and gossip pages spin?

how would people perceive you? how would they see your relationship with lewis? would they hate you? like you? think you’re pretty? what if lewis broke up with you because you weren’t good enough for his fans?

what if?

what if?

what if?

his hand squeezes your thigh, bringing you back to earth, “they’re important because your coworkers are like a second family. i know that sounds corny, but it’s true, especially at an agency like yours.

you guys see one another for nearly forty hours a week. i think it’s only fair you attend one work-related event. even around the holidays. who knows, some of your coworkers may not even have a family to come home to. so that’s why they enjoy events like this.”

letting out a huff, you shift your body to your right, in the direction of the window. a brassy chuckle rumbles in his throat, flowing from his plush lips.

“you know i’m right, love. that’s why you’re pouting over there.”

inhaling a sharp breath, you then exhale, shaking your head. the words are low, barely a whisper.

“maybe it’s because i don’t want everyone at work knowing about my private life.”

“oh baby girl,” lewis hums. you feel his grip on your thigh tighten, “is that what’s been bothering you?”

“y-yeah.”

your lower lip trembles, promising of tears. the golden lights of the city morph together as your vision blurs, the car soaring down lake shore drive. a steady hand dials the volume of the music down, his arm intertwining with yours.

just for a second, you feel his eyes pull away from the road, taking in the way you’re practically clinging to him, desperate for some comfort.

“talk to me love. tell me what’s going on.”

“i-i just,” you stammer, choking back sobs, “i just don’t like how my worlds are colliding. it makes me scared because it feels so… so… serious. i am terrified that you’re not going to like it here. or that you’re not going to like me.. the real me. and i just don’t want you to be bothered all night by people gawking or pointing or whispering.”

before you can even register what’s happening, lewis is pulling into the venue. as he places the car in park, waiting for the valet, you notice his jaw tighten, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

his brows are pinched together, his lips slightly pursed. his body shifts, the chain resting on his collarbone glittering in the low light. his chest heaves, almost as if he was panting, fighting something he couldn’t quite control.

almost as if his inhibitions were crumbling away by the second.

fingers curl around the base of your neck, pulling you in close. lewis cocks his head, tongue running along his lips as he studies you.

your pupils are wide, irises slightly glossy from the tears and the half-smoked joint tucked away in your clutch. your lips glimmer, shiny from the new lip oil he bought.

it was a shade he picked out hours ago, one that suited you oh so perfectly. he was satisfied with that pick, as it brought out colors in your eyes he never had noticed before. they were absolutely stunning, nearly pulling him in as he slowly fell further and further under your spell.

your hair was swept into an elegant style, one that you had never worn for him before. the way you managed to pull just about anything off left him speechless, struggling to find the words as his gaze wandered.

the gown clinging to your frame was stunning. it was a simple black piece adorned with crystal detailing on the bodice, sleeves, and skirt. it was a piece by elie saab, one of the top designers in the realm of gowns. very slyly, he was able to get your measurements one day on a whim, sending them over as quickly as possible.

he researched dozens upon dozens of gems and crystals so that he could find colors that reminded him of you. it was a gown that took months to perfect, as lewis started the moment you texted him about the event. he even had it flown over to the states with him, just so that he knew it wouldn’t get misplaced or damaged.

it was a one-of-one piece, made specifically for you and only you.

and to lewis, that was priceless.

he couldn’t tell you that, though. it was his little secret, meant to be divulged when he felt the moment was right.

“lewis,” the way his name falls from your lips is enticing, dripping with a sweetness he found himself addicted to, “they need to park the car.”

“oh,” he blinks, realizing that the attendant was waiting right outside, “shit. sorry.”

gritting your teeth, your can feel your heart thudding as lewis slips out of the car, chirping a greeting to the attendant. he makes his way around the front end, opening the door on your right.

he offers you his arm, bearing a wide smile. one of his trademark grins that nearly had you melting, your knees buckling as you took a step forward.

the agency you worked for was able to rent the art institute for the evening, transforming it to a wondrous winter-themed ball. all around there was a warm glow from candles, illuminating the vast space with golden light. people mill about, laughter intermingling with the clinking of glasses and music.

as you cling on to lewis, you feel your muscles tense, the pit in your stomach only growing by the second. fuck, there were more people than you expected. and of course, heads were starting to turn. ducking your head, you avoid any eye contact, hoping that lewis locates your table as soon as humanly possible.

this was just too much.

“easy there love,” his mouth ghosts over your ear, “i got you. i promise.”

“as long as you promise,” you mutter, shrinking slightly as you pass by a few people from the agency. there are a few gasps, hushed murmurs erupting as he manages to find your table, pulling your chair out.

“lewis, they’re staring.”

“let them."

in that moment, you want to sink into the chair. maybe even into the floor. beside you, lewis takes your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. he brings your knuckles to his lips, peppering them with tender kisses.

"you want a drink? it may help."

exhaling a shaky breath, your eyes dart around, noticing a cluster of your coworkers approaching the table. yet, you feel his attention remain solely on you, paying no mind to the women starting to swarm around. his fingers massage into your hand, his shoe pressed against your heel.

"why didn't you tell us you were dating a celebrity?"

"you're dating lewis hamilton? how long have you been dating? how did you meet?"

"i can't believe you didn't share this with us!"

lewis' head tilts upward, dimples forming as he flashes them a dazzling smile, "me? a celebrity? i'm not so sure about that. you may have me mistaken for someone else."

"no," your coworker, vanessa, shakes her head, "i know exactly who you are. you're sir lewis hamilton. seven-time formula world champion."

"how did you manage to land him?" another one of your coworkers arches a brow, "because never in a million years would i have--"

"i'm with her because i love her," lewis cuts in, his kindness rapidly dissolving into a polite yet firm tone, "it shouldn't matter what she does for work, or if she's an influencer or model. fuck, she could be unemployed and i wouldn't care. i love her for who she is. that's how she 'landed me.' she's absolutely wonderful. now, if you'll excuse us, we're going to go over to the bar."

your coworkers' eyes widen, their mouths clamping shut as lewis dips his head, motioning for you to get up. his hands grip the back of your seat, tugging the chair toward him. rising to your feet, you take his hand, fighting to maintain a straight face.

once you were out of earshot, lewis clears his throat, "how about we ditch this and go out to eat? how does that sound? we could go to that one restaurant you have been begging me to take you to."

"are you sure?" you press, "i don't want to make you feel as if i dragged you all the way out here only to stay for--"

"don't worry about it love," the driver leads you toward the exit, carefully discarding his suit jacket, "here, you'll need this. it was a bit nippier than i expected out."

as he drapes the jacket around your shoulders, you can't help but feel your heart swell, bliss rippling in your chest. taking your clutch out of your grasp, he holds onto it, clicking his tongue.

"a beautiful woman like you should never have to hold her bag. let me flag down the valet, and then we can go out. just you and me, yeah?"

the corners of your lips twitch, curling into a meek smile, "i would really like that."

"then it's settled," fishing his phone out of his pocket, his eyes scan over the sign resting on the podium, dialing the number for the attendant, "just so you know, people may snap some photos while we're out. are you okay with that? is it going to bother you? if so, then we can just go back to your place and order some--"

"i think i'll manage," you can't help but giggle at his concern, "as long as you hold my hand, i'll be fine."

"oh my love," a hand drifts toward your cheek, cupping it. the pad of his thumb caresses your cheekbone, the driver's heart fluttering as you nuzzle into his palm.

"your celebrity boyfriend loves you very much. you know that?"

"i do," you nod, "and i love my celebrity boyfriend. oh so much."

lewis leans in, his lips nearly on yours. his eyes lock with yours, his nose studs glinting as your head instinctively tilts back, anticipating what was to come next. he catches the shimmer of stars bursting in your depths as the tip of nose brushes yours.

"i'm not sure how much longer your celebrity boyfriend can contain himself. especially when you're so fucking stunning. i can't bear it a second longer. i need you."

"then kiss me," you counter, "and if someone sees, oh well."

"oh yeah?" he taunts, "you want someone to see?"

"maybe," heat rises in your cheeks as his lips tease yours, "maybe it's time that people know lewis hamilton has a girlfriend."

a chuckle rings out, lewis bringing you closer as the valet turns around the corner, the car approaching closer and closer.

"oh my love, i think it's time the entire world knows."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[buck-star]

Picking you up

Picking you up out of the dirt, when he finds you by yourself between the trash behind a restaurant. Why not trusting him and getting a nice home and the warmth you’re looking for?

Pairing: Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Bunny (BunnyHybrid!Fem!Reader)

Wordcount: 2.855 Words

Warnings/Tags: Dark content, violence, homelessness, talking about punishments, abusive past relationship

Authors Note: Lloyd and Bunny were already mentioned in “Realisation”. So thought they could be introduced. Thanks to @holylulusworld @thezombieprostitute for letting me share all the thoughts with you.

Events: Fandom-Free Bingo: Book Edition [O1 | “That’s it sweetheart” | @fandom-free-bingo], Fandom Free Bingo: Gingerbread Edition [Alternates 2 | Regretting a wish | @fandom-free-bingo]

Masterlist | Sweet side of darkness (SSOD) Masterlist

The sun slowly goes down behind the buildings of the city, the sky painted in a beautiful orange-red color. There aren’t many people around anymore; most of them are sitting at their homes, probably at the table, eating and talking to their families.

A soft whimper escapes your lips when you look over the street toward the house you’re admiring every day. The little boy just went inside with his dad, the mother preparing everything for the dinner, while the sister’s laugh matches the one of the little boy once they are home.

It’s long ago that you had a moment like that, long ago that you felt the warmth and love of a family. After your ex and you moved in together, your family distanced themselves further and further — it may have been because your ex-boyfriend made sure to keep you just for himself and tell you lies about your family.

However, once they didn’t care any longer, he humiliated you in front of everyone; he cheated on you before he threw you out and left you to yourself on the street.

Now you’re living between the trash in a dark alley behind a restaurant. At least you get enough food every day. But the loneliness clawing at you more and more, the want to belong somewhere, to be loved as the one you are — as the hybrid — you are getting more present the more you watch the families laughing and interacting so lovely and happy with one another.

It’s only when the backdoor of the restaurant swings open that you turn your head to look at the scene. Your bunny ears swinging slightly — they aren’t too long to annoy you, but long enough to swing with every move you’re doing.

A man is thrown out of the door, slamming into the wall of the house opposite. Your eyes widen, and you try to push yourself further into the corner of the garbage can and the wall of the house.

Another man follows out of the door; he’s wearing tight white pants and an even tighter shirt that defines his well-trained muscles in his chest. He has short brown hair and a moustache perfectly framing his top lip.

The man with the white pants grins, a low, dark chuckle leaving his lips as he takes another step into the dark alley and toward the man who’s still pressed into the wall. “Good to see you here, sunshine. Thought I had to look more in the underground to find you.”

You notice the white pants man pulling something out of the back of his pants — a knife. You shriek; your eyes go even wider when his head turns to you and he looks you up and down. You immediately press your hands on your mouth, your bunny ears covering half of your face. Maybe he will ignore you; maybe you can tell him that you haven’t seen anything, mayb—.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin. You’re going to have some fun with Kemp; he loves having fun with bad boys. I have to do more important things,” the man in the white pants says to the other man. His expression shifts when the name ‘Kemp’ slips past the white pants man.

“Think you can steal our hybrids and sell them yourself?” Another voice comes from the exit of the restaurant. You only listen to them, still covering your face with your ears. The man whose name is probably Kemp and the man in the white pants have obviously been trafficking with hybrids, and it makes your stomach drop.

White pants man has seen you; will he get you and sell you too? You curl yourself further together, pushing as much as you can into the corner, and maybe the man isn’t interested in you then. You’re a dirty, homeless hybrid; they couldn’t make much money with you, could they?

“Hi, little bunny,” a voice coos; to your surprise, it sounds soft, and you dare to move your ears a bit to the side to peek through them. In front of you is the man with the right white pants; he’s kneeling down, and a smile curls up his lips. A smile that doesn’t look as sadistic as it used to be as he walked out of the restaurant. “You’re a shy little bunny?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whimper, your hands still covering your mouth so your voice is still a bit muffled. Lloyd almost groans when you call him that; you’re so obedient. He nods; a flash of possessiveness is visible in his eyes before his expression turns soft once more. “P-please, I haven’t… I won’t tell anyone, sir.”

“I know you won’t, bunny,” Lloyd says with a now darkish grin once more. You’re shivering, your bunny ears covering your face once more. The white pants man chuckles low in his throat.

Lloyd waits already a while for his perfect hybrid, a girl that’s obedient but a little slut for him. His housewife and fuck toy, someone he can come home to and doesn’t have to be just sadistic but can also wrap one in his arms and just enjoy a nice movie night.

“Please, sir. I will be good,” you whimper once more behind your ears and hands. Fear growing in your body, and it shows in your trembling form and your hiding behavior.

“I know you will. Bunny?” Lloyd asks, his voice softer again but with an edge of dominance. You’re wondering how he can switch from terrifying to sweet within seconds. But as long as he keeps his soft side with you, you don’t mind him, right?

When Lloyd notices your ears moving again and allowing you to peek through them, he chuckles softly. You’re his perfect little bunny, sweet and shy, obedient, and if you’re not a little slutty girl yet, he will turn you into one.

“Did someone train you, Bunny? You’re such an obedient little girl,” he continues, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you. You nod softly, and your ears swing softly, causing a soft chuckle to escape Lloyd's plump lips. “Yeah? Who trained you?”

“M-my ex. H-he… He said if I’m bad… h-he would put me in the basement,” you reply, recalling the memories from years back where he threatened you whenever you didn’t do as you were told. You quickly learned your place; the spankings were rare but better than the darkness in the basement you feared so much. He knew; that’s why he used it to his advantage. He used to put you in the basement until you begged him, until you kissed his feet as an apology for disobeying. “I-it was so dark and cold in the basement…”

It’s ironic; you’re now living in the street, no matter if it was wet and cold or sunny and warm. You find security between garbage cans, and the only light source is the lamps that turned out at some point.

“Aww, little bunny, scared of the dark. Whatcha doing out here at this time then?” Lloyd asks, looking around at all the trash. It looks like a little sleeping place where you’re sitting, between some pizza boxes.

“I—I…” you mumble, interrupting yourself. You feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Your ears twitch, but this time, before you can cover your face once more, Lloyd brings his calloused hand to them and pushes them out of your face. You whimper, trying to hide yourself, but he keeps them behind your head with one hand.

“You, what, bunny? Don’t hide yourself when you’re talking to me; that’s not polite, is it?” He asks, his voice low but still soft. His grip around your ears tightens a bit when you stay quiet. It doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable, but it’s enough to make a point that he’s in control.

“I sleep here,” you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. Lloyd nods; he knew it, but he wanted to hear it from you. Why else would a little bunny like you be in that dark alley between some garbage. And it underlines once more that you’re the perfect little girl for Lloyd.

Lloyd nods, getting up and turning his head to look at Steve and the other guy. Kemp has everything perfectly under control, the man pressed between him and the wall while he grins at him. Then, Lloyd turns back to you and grins. “Get up.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden demand and the change in his voice. The slightly soft edge in it is now the cold one he used before with the man. You back away, shaking your head slightly.

He narrows his eyes, the stare on you intense while the smirk fades from his lips. Lloyd reaches one of his calloused hands out to wrap it around both of your bunny ears and yank you up.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he growls, the softness from before turned into a coldness. The grip around your ears tightens, and you whimper. “You were such a good little bunny, so why don’t you keep behaving like one for me, huh?”

“L-let go, please; I-it hurts,” you whine, keeping still to soothe the pain he’s causing with his tight grip around your ears. He chuckles, loosening his fingers a bit but holding your ears still firmly to make sure you obey.

Lloyd takes a step further into the dark alley and toward the other men, pulling you with him. You take a shaky step too, following him so he won’t pull your bunny ears again. You have the urge to stroke your ears, to make them feel better with soft touches, but you don’t dare to do anything Lloyd hasn’t asked for.

“S-sir,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. The man turns his head to you, looking down. You’re looking so small and vulnerable, your body shaking, and he growls low in his throat. He loves how tall and strong he is compared to you.

“Yes, bunny?” He asks, leading you further to the other men. Kemp has the other man still pressed against the wall but leans back and releases the other after a moment with a grin. You watch that man’s legs shaking and trying to steady himself with his hands against the wall behind him.

“Please, your grip is too tight around my bunny ears,” you say quietly, not wanting to upset Lloyd. He nods but doesn’t change his grip around your ears. He pulls you further through the dark alley. Your smaller steps cause him to pull your ears further; it almost looks like he enjoys your little cries and begs for him to release your bunny ears.

Lloyd stops next to Steve and the other man, pulling you to his side. He lets go of your ears, and you immediately back away from him. The man rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly before he turns his attention back to Steve. “And?”

“He doesn’t want to talk… insisting on not having tried to steal our hybrids,” Steve answers, his hand firmly wrapped around the other man’s throat. Lloyd groans in annoyance, then he nods slowly. “Want to take him there? And the bunny too?”

“No, the bunny comes with me. But you,” Lloyd says with a sadistic smirk on his plump lips. He feels almost a bit disappointed that he misses the punishment of the man who tried to betray them, but he found you, his cute bunny, and he wants to take you home more than punishing that man. “You will have lots of fun with Steve. He will have lots of fun with our betrayer, won’t you, Kemp?”

Lloyd turns around to look through the dark alley, his eyes scanning every little inch of it. He rolls his eyes. You really think you can hide from him. With a nod he walks through the darkness, a sarcastic grin on his face the further he walks through it.

“Come out, come out, little bunny,” he says, his voice low as he looks at the place he first found you. But there’s no hint of you. Lloyd groans, frustrated; he doesn’t mind a good little game, but right now he’s not in a mood for that. “I’m gonna find you, and you won’t like it then. So you better come out now, bunny.”

There’s still no hint that you’re still in that alley, but luckily for him, you walked in the direction where a wall comes. So you can’t escape him even if he has to rummage through all the trash to find you — he will.

“I’m gonna count to three, and you better thank me for being so patient with your little disobedient ass, bunny,” Lloyd growls darkly, stepping further through the alley. He’s feeling satisfied that you disobey; as much as he loves your obedience, he loves the thought of training you even more. “One.”

He keeps walking; his steps echo through the darkness. You flinch with every thud of his expensive shoes. You push yourself further into the corner you are in, curling yourself together while you listen to his steps.

“Two, bunny,” he says loudly; there’s a hint of amusement in his voice, but you don’t trust it. He was sweet earlier, and then he turned mean; he can change his voice, but he’s still mean.

Lloyd’s steps get closer, but to your relief, he walks past where you’re hiding. A soft sigh escapes your lips, and you lean back a bit. You keep listening to him, waiting for him to walk further so you can get out of your hiding spot and run.

“Three,” he says, his voice suddenly so close, and you shriek when his face appears in front of yours. His blue eyes glistening with amusement as he reaches out to grab you — to your surprise — softly by your shoulder and pulls you out of the trash. “There you are, bunny.”

“P-please don’t hurt me,” you whimper, freezing in your spot when you notice his eyes wandering over your face. He takes in every little detail, enjoying himself. You’re shivering, and your legs shake so much that you feel like they give in and you fall down, but Lloyd wraps one of his thick arms around your waist and pulls you close to his chest.

His scent is sweet, still manly, and you feel yourself leaning into him a bit more. Lloyd smirked, his expression turning more soft again, and while he holds you close, he brings his other hand to your side, running it up and down.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, bunny,” he replies softly. ‘Not yet at least.’ Lloyd adds in his mind. He feels your nod against his broad chest, and he starts walking with you close to him back to the restaurant to get out home. “I just want you to be good, my obedient little bunny.”

You nod once more, pushing yourself further into Lloyd’s side while you walk toward where Kemp is still standing. He grins at you, nodding toward Lloyd as he grabs the other man — you don’t know about, except that he stole hybrids — by his neck and pushes him into the restaurant.

Lloyd leads you to the exit as well, stopping just before you walk in. “You have to be good now, bunny. Stay by my side and look down, get me?”

“Y-yes sir,” you mumble and look down. Lloyd smiles, satisfied with you obeying him, and takes your smaller hand in his. Then he pulls you with him into the restaurant. You hear some gasps, feel some eyes on you, but you do as you’re told and keep looking down. You squeeze Lloyd's hand until he strokes his thumb over the back of your hand to calm you down.

The walk through the restaurant isn’t too long, but with all eyes on you, you feel like it��s going on and on while you’re like a trophy. When you finally reach the door, you notice two big SUVs in front; your mouth drops open, and you look up to have a better look.

“That makes it two,” Lloyd says more to himself than to you. He pulls you to one of the cars, opening the back door for you to get in. “That’s going to be fun, my little bunny, a good old punishment for the disobedient little bunny you are.”

With that, he shuts the door of the car, and you notice a clicking. The door is locked, and there is no escape for you from that man anymore. You shiver; your eyes widen as you watch him get into the driver's seat. That sadistic smile back on his face when he sighs in satisfaction.

“No more disobedience, or I need to teach you manners. And you already deserve a good punishment for running from me and for lifting your head when I told you not to, didn’t I, bunny?” He asks, even though it wasn’t really an ask; it was more a statement. Lloyd leans further back in his seat and starts the engine, tuning in the music and humming softly to it.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @blackhawkfanatic @hisredheadedgoddess28 [add yourself]

[thesharktanksdriver]

Magical girl y/n christmas canons?

Tinsel, magic and hot chocolate (platonic)

Sorry I released this after Christmas i have written so much that there’s a huge delay whenever I type on this on this

Christmas headcanons babyyyyyyyyy let’s goooooooo

Anyways Merry late Christmas

Masterlist

Christmas wasn’t much of an occasion for you before you were adopted by billionaire philanthropist playboy Bruce/Brucie Wayne

When you lived on your own Christmas was a luxury you could hardly afford to yourself

Maybe if you had a few crumpled dollars saved in the back of your pocket you’d splurge on a hot chocolate at a stand somewhere

Or you’d have a second cup of instant ramen

But besides that there wasn’t much to celebrate besides the fact that with Christmas came winter and that brought the cold

The old apartment you had didn’t have much heating on account of the busted windows, decaying door and fluctuating power

So winter had alway been a life or death scenario every year

The fear of going to sleep and simply not waking up had been to prevalent to enjoy winter

Snow and ice loosing their beauty in the face of the real potential of dying

You couldn’t appreciate the leisure of affording skates to glide across the ice, of dancing and sliding with family or friends at a rink

Couldn’t come to see the beauty in the snow glimmering like thousands of diamonds under sunlight, of laying in its soft cushioning to make snow angels or snowman’s

Before all of this you couldn’t

Not when you had to survive not only for your own sake

But for the sake of your universe at large

Because if you died the shadowmites would eat and destroy everything

Everyone

All the happy families that pass you by on the street as you adjusted a ratty falling apart hand woven scarf would die

As would the kind older vendor who gave soup out to all the unfortunate during the season

The man who dressed as Santa to bring joy despite the fact that the kids in the shitty parts of Gotham didn’t Believe anymore

A store clerk who slips an extra candy cane in your bag when your not looking as a small surprise

The hero’s of the city who worked perilously on the holidays

For the villains you somehow gained the affection of

Croc in the sewers who lets you sit down on your breaks by the heater you’d dug up from the trash, a gift from last year he treasures for both its practicality and sentimentality

Mr Penguin who gives you the extra food from his Christmas banquet you’re invited to, the way in which he may or may not have tried to insist you take a fur coat a customer “conveniently” left behind with the tag still attached

Ivy and Harley who make you scarves and mitts they knitted by hand, the fun brightly coloured yarn held together by love and dedication that helps you get through the winter’s harsh nights

Mr freeze who seems content this season to have some company in his loneliness if even for a few minutes, and though you can’t appreciate the cold like he can due to its threat to your well being you can appreciate the beauty of Gotham blanketed in glistening snow instead of the dreary smog

Riddler who gifts you a bright green wrapped present that is opened with a riddle, inside being a few books that be personally thought were good

Catwoman who ends up gifting you a large throw blanket with a kitschy picture of a cat that helped you survive the long cold nights

But this is all before your adoption

After, it’s much different

Decorating

Christmas at the Wayne’s and winter all together now is a much different experience

For one the decorations

The most you could do was a small little Charlie Brown tree, you’d decorate them with the little bootleg magical girl figure you got from thrift stores or dollarama’s

But somehow Alfred on the first day of December had the entire manor furnished

Garlands lining the walls with Christmas lights and ornaments hanging off them that shine in the warm lighting of chandeliers

Statues and figurines of Santa and his elves on tables, poinsettia’s in the decorative vases dotting the halls

A massive fresh cut Christmas tree hang up in the main living room, the fireplace lit nearby with stockings hung up on the mantelpiece

Each giant sock individualized in different colours and hand stitched with the occupants names

Bruce’s is midnight black, Dick’s is a light blue, Jason’s a traditional bright red, Tim’s a pretty Maroon , Damien’s a forest green, etc

Yours how hangs there as well, your favourite colour in velvet and your name etched in pretty cursive in sparkly thread

The scent of fresh baked cookies and gingerbread wafting from the kitchen whilst pine and cinnamon linger elsewhere

Eventually you’ll even help Alfred in decorating your room to watch with the Christmas decorations of the entire manor

Helping him hang crystal snowflakes that create rainbow infractions from sunlight streaming in from your window, little reindeer figures being added to your bedside

Maybe even a Christmas hat placed atop one of your plushies

Alfred, according to the rest of the manor residents goes ham for all holidays

Christmas, Halloween, Easter, birthdays, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day, you name it and he has an entire garages worth of decorations neatly stored away in boxes that he’ll somehow unpack overnight and have half the manor done within 5 hours

A feat truly unprecedented consider this place was a maze of hallways with at least 150 rooms that you’d counted so far

All of which were decorated in some sort of Christmas attire or theme

One was Santa themed, another Christmas tree themed, the one down the hall somewhere was frosty the snow man and a different one was filled with memorabilia from the old stop motion Rudolph films

Somehow them the British man was able to get his hands on some of the spare genuine figures used for that film (and the other ones from the sequels)

All of which now have a correlating Wayne manor resident

Alfred of course is Sam the snow man from that film, umbrella and bowler hat going all too well with him

Apparently when Jason was younger he begged for his to be Rudolph, a fact Bruce nor Dick ever let him live down

At some point during the first weeks of December the entire family gathers to decorate the tree

Quite honestly you thought you’d just hang out in your room while that happened since you had no idea what to really do

Your tiny “tree” didn’t have any traditional ornaments, only your figurines

But not even two minutes after the decorating supposedly started Damien basically kicked down your door with Jason and dragged you to join the tree decorating

Turns out no one can escape this fate

And they all refused to start without you, especially since this would “be your first year to witness the decoration war”

You quickly learn what that means when half the family is arguing on what colour scheme the tree should have

It’s basically an all out war while your sitting beside Damien who looks on

By the end of it all red and gold wins by a smidge

Mostly due to the fact Alfred got accidentally friendly fired by Dick and decided for everyone

You’d never seen Dick so afraid in your life, he looked ready to write his will in that moment

But once that’s finished the decorating actually starts

There’s no real strategy to how they do it

Tim tries to make a plan but it quickly falls through when the others began grabbing random bits and bobbles to hang on the tree

Red and gold balls of glass, old and delicate

Other ornaments of stuffed bears, cups of hot cocoa, a plate of cookies and more

You gravitate mostly towards these ones, the unique ornaments you’d used to see in store displays but could never afford

Ones you’d wish to have but could never hold

The others seem to catch on to this quickly, since they basically give you the box holding them all and hoisting you up to decorate the high points of the tree you couldn’t reach

This almost becomes an argument too when Dick complains that Jason is hogging you

Damien steps in immediately after literally swooping down from nowhere with a grappling hook to take you and bring you to the other side of the tree

All the while stating that once more he’s your favourite sibling

You can’t say he’s wrong when he objectively isn’t

Along with the fact he looks so genuinely happy over the fact

Once the tree is finished all that’s left is the topper

The crowning moment of the tree

With how everyone is looking to you your not surprised when Alfred hands you the crowning piece

They had several out while debating the Christmas tree and one stood out to you

It wasn’t the traditional star, it was a pretty angel

With white feathered wings and flowing brown hair atop a red velvet dress lined in gold

She just stood out to you from the bunch, of course this house full of detectives would notice you gazing at her for 20 minutes admiring the detail

Bruce is the one who lifts you up to place the angel

The only one so far who’d yet to help you reach the top

His hold gentle and stable

Smiling up at you urging you that it’s all alright

That you get to place the most important piece

You can’t help but feel a bit hesitant with all the attention on you on such an important moment

You’d never done something this before

Not for real anyways

You didn’t think topping your dinky tree with the only good figure you had could count

But now your crowning a real Christmas tree

With your family, all of whom look up at you cheering you on

It feels so overwhelmingly nice and cozy

You’d never thought you’d feel this during the season you’d dread

But here you are, lifted to reach atop a giant tree and placing an angel atop it all to look after you all until winter goes

Like the angel you feel the responsibility to drive out all evil forces to protect those in this mansion

The family who cheer loudly when you place her at the top and practically tackle you in a hug when your put back down on the wooden floor

As everyone celebrates you can’t help but look atop the tree

The angel looking down at you whilst Rigel slumbers atop your shoulder

Only being brought back when his nose nudges your cheek, turning your attention to your group of rowdy brothers who beckon you for yet another Christmas activity

Christmas baking

Once upon a time ago many years back you were able to afford a gingerbread house

It was after a few weeks of scrounging for money in wherever you could find it

Spare quarters and loose pennies making up the total of 15 dollars you’d decided to splurge on the cookie house

It didn’t end up looking good but didn’t mind at all, not when you’d feasted on the spare gumdrops that were hard and sour

Or the too sweet icing in a small plastic packet

On Christmas Day you’d eaten the house itself as your gift that year

Dividing it into small pieces to save for later as your future meals and snacks for patrols

Along with sectioning out some for Rigel who insisted you take care of yourself before them

This year though at Wayne manor baking Christmas goods is much less of a luxury and more a constant during the Christmas season

Alfred, you’ve quickly come to learn even before being adopted, was a baking god

That man could bake things you’d think would be served up to the gods on an alter

From his mouth watering cookies to his baked Alaska that nearly made you cry

His skills were no match

And during Christmas he apparently went crazy with baking

Chocolate chip Cookies galore, gingerbread made by hand, candycanes someone made by hand despite the long procedural process of kneading the sugar, sugar cookies with hand made icing that he piped into snowflakes and mini versions of the batfamily

The work he did was no joke

As was his “no one baking but me” policy after everyone else in the family somehow almost set the kitchen on fire

Yeah everyone else in the family was banned after trying to help him one year

Wayne manor nearly burnt down and now only your allowed there with him

Though you guessed that may have also been because he wanted to spend time with you

Something you can’t fault him for since you also like spending time with him as well

Since your new to baking Alfred is a guiding gentle hand

He shows you how to measure out ingredients correctly

Kneed the dough just enough

Pipe icing on cookies

Even let’s you nibble on the spare cookie dough and chocolate chips

Something he makes you keep a secret lest the others in the house get jealous

Throughout all the baking Alfred talks with you about all types of things

He asks you about your Christmases before this

Talks about being in MI6 and raising Bruce

Quietly probes you for Christmas gifts you’d like

Let’s Rigel perch around his shoulders and around his neck like a scarf

It’s all heartwarming and cozy

Especially as he seems so genuinely happy that this year you get to experience a proper Christmas

Not alone in a dingy apartment

But instead surrounded by friends and family

He seems all too proud when your both done with baking and made delectable sweet treats

He seems even more proud when the extra you made end up in containers that you say you’ll hand out to some friends

Thankfully he doesn’t ask when later that night you go out on patrol with a little basket and Christmas cards

He just tells you that if needed he’ll make more

It seems even villains can’t resist his cooking

Especially not with how Croc gobbles down the entire container or how Harley begs for the recipe

Riddler not one for chocolate chip cookies but enjoys the ginger snaps and shortbread cookies you bring instead

Mr.Freeze who quietly thanks you for the sugar cookies made to look like nutcrackers and ballerinas, something he said to you once before that Nora loved during the season

Two face and Harvey seem nostalgic, it makes sense considering Harvey’s friendship with Bruce

He’s been over at Christmas before his decent

When he asks how you have the recipe you just say that an old man asked you to deliver them to him

For the first time in the season you see him melt ever so slightly

He doesn’t need to say thank you, not with how he pats your head and tells you to stay warm

When you go off he hands you one of the cookies

Something you can’t help but smile gleefully at

Later that night you make sure to make extra for the next delivery along with little gingerbread men

All of which are decorated to look like the receivers of the delivery

Ice skating

You’d never learned to skate mostly because you could never afford skates

Public rinks were open during the winter in certain part of Gotham, typically the nicer areas though near crime alley you’d seen a few smaller opens opened up for kids

Though you’d never had the time to go to one

Sure, you could glide across the ice without the needed equipment but it wouldn’t be as fun. And sure, you could technically use your transformation powers to make yourself a pair of skates

But that would be a waste of your limited powers for something so trivial

And it was a skill not typically needed, it’s not like you were fighting Mr freeze on a month to month basis

So you bite your tongue and would continue on when seeing a rink on your way back to your old apartment

Eyes lingering on the families teaching their young ones to skate

To the pretty ice skater dancing as if she were a ballerina

To the group of friends off to the side enjoying a cup of hot cocoa from a small stand nearby

Still too overpriced for you to afford nor enjoy without risk of not affording rent let alone heating

The minute Dick learned this he was already off taking you to a sports supply store and having you try more skates than you’d known existed

From more heavy duty to sleek and petite

He has you try them on

Finding whichever was more comfortable to your feet before you finally settled on a pair

But even after that the shopping wasn’t done

He bought pretty ribbons to replace the laces, skate guards and blade covers

And then off you were suddenly at a rink with him guiding you along the ice

Quite honestly the spectacle of people watching the two of you and awing at the scene is a tad bit embarrassing

But Dicks genuine enthusiasm makes up for it

Though it doesn’t make up for the fact that you’ll be seeing his ass picks later on

Because god, why does he have to give them more fuel to the fire

You’d tried multiple times to get him to stop bending down and hunching over

But he seems to occupied in teaching you to notice the rabid clicks of pictures being taken behind him

Once you get a slow hand of it he takes your gloved hand and lets you take the reigns

Letting you chart the course across the ice

Past equally happy families that have the same smile that he does

Pride gleaming in it like a unyielding fire

Apparently back when he was apart of the circus he sucked at skating he admits

He could do acrobats 20 feet in the air just fine but had two left feet when it came to the ice

His parents never got frustrated though, neither did Bruce

But they one day said that he’d get it if he put his heart into trying again and again each winter

And that he’d be good enough to one day teach someone else as well

He remarks with a smile that it seems they were right

He says this all the while he stared into the overpriced hot chocolate with whip cream

Little green and red sprinkles in his as well as your own cup

Silently you smile and take his hand to go out on the ice once more when he’s finished his drink

You think that Mr and Mrs Grayson would be proud of him

Though you don’t need to say that aloud when his smile says it all

(Unfortunately you we’re right about the ass shots flooding your feed, though it was also mixed with people gushing over how adorable the scene was and how cute you are. You don’t open social media for the next couple of days for various reasons, your bashful expression is poked at by Damien who says he can hunt down the users if you’d like)

Gift shopping

Buying gifts for others was yet another luxury you couldn’t typically afford

So you used to scavenge for things

The heater for croc is a good example

As are the pots you then hand painted for Ivy and Harley

This year though it’s a bit overwhelming as Bruce takes you shopping for gifts

Store after store

His obsidian credit card that he pulled out for nearly everything you so much as dare to look at for over 5 seconds

The guilt that he’s spending his money for you

So far you’d picked out good gifts for everyone else

Even going as far to get some for Titus, your….non law-abiding citizen friends and some for the justice league

But you were still unused to it all without looking at the price tag

Something Bruce all but basically banned you to do and just said to put anything in the cart

And by Anthony he meant anything

You were staring too long at the car displayed in the mall and he nearly took you to a car dealership to buy you one

And then went on about customizing it for your or that persons taste

You sure anyone would like Ferrari but your not quite sure how you’d explain buying one to the receiver

Throughout it all Bruce looks more content than you’d thought he’d be when your spending his money

Sure, he’s a billionaire but typically they like to save and horde money, not freely spend it n frivolous things like this

But it seems Bruce had been the outlier

Maybe he’s always been

You’d gotten to Gotham academy because of his scholarship programs before he knew your existence

Certain parts of Gotham were in better state due to the Wayne corporations work and job listings

The Martha and Thomas Wayne fundraiser each year raised millions in charity

It’s still all so weird

But you have a small moment of clarity when entering a small anime store

Bruce chats up the worker at the counter, pulling out his Brucie persona

And he lets you reign free to buy stuff

You browse the figures, even finding a few you’d like for yourself that your almost 100% sure he’s gonna ask the owner to hold and have Alfred pick up later

But then you get to the dvds section

And in the bottom shelf you find old VHS’s

Your finger grazes across their spines alphabetically

And then it stops on a pretty pink one

It’s old and slightly faded

But you know this one by heart

This was one of your old sailor moon’s VHS’s, the one that you played so much that it eventually stopped working

The box was the only thing left of the thing, there was no use in keeping a messed of tape

So you had to sadly throw it out

The memories flood back of that tape

The episodes you know by heart

The line delivery (a male voice mocks it and brings you to tears)

The cheesy voice acting (something a female voice complained about)

The night spent alone watching it before Rigel came along (the sense of feeling of overwhelming loneliness waiting for someone to come back)

Huh? Your reminded of something?

Your parents, you forgot you even had those at one point

The cold seeps through an broken window past the flimsy sheer curtains

You hear them moving stuff, muttering to themselves quietly as you sit in front of the old box tv

Their voices muffled and static, grating your eardrums in fuzziness

You hum along to moonlight densetsu as sailor moon appears on screen

When she strikes her pose you do so as well, mirroring the action with your pudgy hands

A thump alerts you away from the screen

Two blurred figures, your parents stand by the door

Bags beside them filled to the brim

“We’re going to get groceries, you now how to use the stove” to your 5 year old mind this was normal

You didn’t know someone your age shouldn’t be left alone for hours on end

Shouldn’t be able to use the stove

Shouldn’t look to the tv as your only friend and mentor in keeping you alive

It was sailor moon who taught you to show kindness to others

Mew mew showed you to protect your home

Sakura told you to love others no matter their appearance or gender

Utena proved girls could fight and be just as strong as men

It was Honoka and Nagisa from pretty cure who taught you courage

It was never your parents, it was the reruns and old VHS’s you watched until they couldn’t play anymore and you knew the episodes by heart

You remember those shows so clearly, each episode and line delivery

And yet you couldn’t remember your mom or dad besides the one memory

They were so insignificant in the few years of your life they’d been in

And it’s that night watching sailor moon they left you

Abandoned you in a ratty apartment that they were gonna be kicked out of for not paying their bills

Left you to watch your only good facet in your life

Magical girls

Except now you imagine the memory differently

Your watching your sailor moon but there’s no shuffling in the background

Not the sound of them preparing to leave

Just silence before you feel a presence beside you

Turning your head you see Bruce, sitting beside you

Though now instead of kneeling on the floor your in the private theatre in a comfortable leather chair

The night he surprised you with getting your favourite series to play in it

And even if he didn’t understand the plot or what was going on he watched with a smile

He watched beside you, not once leaving your side

You pick up the old vhs with a nostalgic smile, thumb trailing down the back to read the episode list

The ones you remember by heart

Like by line

You put it back knowing somehow it would end up in your stocking this year

You wonder if the rest of the family would enjoy watching as well even without any context to the show

playing in snow

You used to hate the snow, and ice and all things cold except for Mr freeze and the cheap Dairy Queen Sunday’s you bought in the summer to cool down

But besides that you couldn’t stand it

You could play in the snow without risk of getting sick

Your winter boots already holes and your mitts were falling apart as it was

If you made snow angels or made snowballs you’d be left wet and cold

And there was nothing at the apartment to really dry you

Unless you wanted to waste Rigels magic to do so

And that wasn’t an option when every night you were breaking a rib or snapping your arm again

It seemed during Christmas as well Shadowmites got worse

For the season of giving and love there sure was a lot of hated that they feed off of

And unfortunately you were at the brunt end of it all

They gifted you broken bones and bloody scratches

So if others considered you a Scrooge for not liking the season you had every reason as to why

Not to mention by the end of your fights you were freezing and drenched

An even worse combination when bleeding and stumbling on a broken foot

Ba humbug

So when Jason takes you to go tobogganing your less amused than an average kid should be

To be fair your not exactly and “average kid” with the whole magical girl powers and all

But still, he had expected a bit more enthusiasm and less confusion

Safe to say Jason is a bit like Dick realizing you never learned to skate

Though unlike Dick, Jason can acclimate as to why

Growing up in crime alley was a lot like your own childhood

But back then he had friends, other kids to play with in the snow

He knew what fun it could bring because of that but you didn’t

And he decides to try and fix that

So throwing you your snow boots and zipping up his coat he all but almost drags you out the manor

A sled in hand while Rigel curls up around you like a scarf

His boots thumping through the snow creating satisfying crunches

Wayne manor’s grounds were huge, and unknown to you was that it also had a hill

Like a proper hill hidden behind dead shrubbery and snow covered trees

Something Jason shows off with a proud smile

He sets up the sled as you admire the view

It looks more like something from one of those old 2 million dollar paintings kept in a private collection away from the public

You see Gotham dusted in snow, refracting light creating a diamond-like sheen across the city

Snow falling around framing the entire world

It’s pretty in a way you handy really seen before now took a moment to enjoy

“Hey! Hop on”

Turning around you see Jason on the sled patting the spot in front of him

With a small nod you slid into the spot, settled comfortably between his legs as he wretched his arms past you to grab the reigns

“Ready?”

His eyes shine and you see the faintest tinge of green mixed in blue

You nod grabbing the reigns as well

He smiles and scoots the sleigh to the edge

Letting gravity do the rest

The sleigh starts its descent down the hill, gliding across the snow picking up speed

It’s a bit bumpy

A bit scary

But you hear Jason yell in excitement and your voice joins his in symphony

Before crashing down to the bottom and falling off the sled into the snow nearby with a audible thump

Almost immediately your older brother searches but finds you laying face up in the snow with a smile

A laugh tumbling out your mouth all the while Rigel chitters in a similar manner

Jason flops down beside you

From the hill when you go back down again you see both his and your snow angels side by side

Gift wrapping

You couldn’t wrap for shit, that is something you knew very well when one year you tried

Keyword tried

To wrap up a present for Rigel with scraps of wrapping paper you found in a garbage somewhere

It looked more like a Picasso painting of a wrapped present than a present itself

But unlike wrapping presents you could tie bows

Something Tim couldn’t do

You’d seen him try for 30 minutes and it looked….well it looked bad

It looked like a snake strangled itself to death

Or a noose trying to hang itself

Plane and simple its atrocious

But combining your skills together you both are actually competent

So the two of you decided to team up to create the wrapping league

Even if said league was more like a duo than anything

And was less about end of the world scenarios and moreso just about competently wrapping gifts

But to be honest it’s just fun hanging out with Tim

He’s just someone who knows just about everything due to unlimited internet access

Which could be for better or the worst

But that’s either which way

Tim knows all the shows you talk about no matter how obscure

Apparently when Bruce was researching you Tim had convinced him watching all seasons of sailor moon was for research purposes

As was watching nearly half of all the pretty cure series

And madoka magica

And mew mew

And- you get the point

How he did this? Being delirious to the point Bruce just agreed to anything he wanted so long as he promised to sleep for a good 12 hours

And so for a week straight the home Wayne theatre was his for the taking

For “research” though to anyone who looked in it was mostly definitely for his own viewing

But because of that no matter what show you mention he has watched it

There’s no awkward explaining of the plot

Nor the fact midway through you’d typically stop since most by then would just awkwardly laugh and say they’ll check it out which was code word for “haha no that show sounds weird as shit and I won’t touch it with a 20 foot stick and your weird too stop talking already”

Tim has seen it already and passionately talk to you about it for half an hour straight with no breaks between either of you

Tim is unabashed in his interests

Whether that be 16th century poetry or the most obscure damn show on the internet he picked up for funsies

Tim can and will talk about anything

Andrew with passion too

There’s no awkwardness when you speak to him

It’s just a genuine conversation and interaction

He talks about his favourite episode and characters

His most hated

Favourite scenes or fights

Fan Theories and his own

It feels validating

Because you know he isn’t judging you

He’s just genuine

That’s a lot more than any present you wrap

Your not sure if he knows that though

By the time either of you have wrapped the presents neither of you know that partway in Alfred began to secretly wrap to give you both more time to talk

Opening presents

Christmas morning used to be a morning of quiet

You’d wake up with Rigel and make yourself a small meal and enjoy the day mostly relaxing or preparing for the night when you’d inevitably go out to kill Shadowmites

This years Christmas morning is very different though

Your awoken at 8 on the dot in the morning by Damien who’s standing at your bedside in what looked to be a hand knit sweater

Before you have time to wake up (especially since last night was long as hell) you have a similar sweater shoved in your face

It’s your favourite colour much like the stocking Alfred hand made

So it’s safe to assume he somehow had the time to knit this as well

The shimmery white yarn creating intricate patterns of snowflakes and bunnies frolicking in the snow

Still clad in pyjamas and throwing on the sweater Damien all but drags you from your room and through the long hallways

Feet only clad in socks slapping against the wooden floor

Exhaustion slowly leaving you when your handed a cup of hot chocolate by Alfred

And seeing the absolute mountain of presents stacked under the tree

It’s an mind blowing amount (at least to you)

A sea of patterned paper and bows gleaming under the chandelier light

Stockings stuffed to the brink above a already lit fire

Alfred waiting expectantly on a cushioned chair, old eyes lighting up when seeing the sweater your wearing

By now the others slowly start to trickle in

Bruce looking equally as tired as you in a silk robe topped off with a Christmas hat with a fake beard

Jason not too far behind pushing Dick and Tim out the way

Dick and Tim nearly eating shit on the carpeting because of Jason

Everyone wearing similar sweaters

During the ordeal of opening presents you hand out the ones you’d bought for everyone

A certain sense of satisfaction and nervousness flooding you as you watch their reactions

You’d gotten them many gifts for each but there was one main gift for each you’d spent some time finding (or in one case working on)

Somehow you’d gotten a first edition copy of Moby dick for Jason which resulted in your being thrown in the air and given a back breaking hug

For Dick you scrounged up old “flying Graysons” circus posters at a few vintage stores, somehow you’d gotten another reaction like Jason

In which you nearly ended up air-bound if not for Damien

Speaking of which, for Damien you called in a favour from Klarion for a duel gift to get a rare sapphire encrusted sword Al apparently lost a millennia ago

Apparently it was in some desert beneath 300 feet of sand

Tim got a vintage camera he’d been eyeing for a long time but hadn’t been able to find

For Bruce instead of buying him something you opted to make him something instead

Compared to some of the other gifts it’s simple but you made him a scrapbook with the help of Alfred

It complied everything from his adoption of Dick to you

Every page was themed and included things like dried flowers to old tickets and stickers according to theming

It’s a behemoth of a book

Practically took up 3 months of work when not busy with school or patrols or when Bruce wasn’t around

But it ends up being perhaps the most heartfelt gift of them all

Bruce hugs you?

It’s a weird thing, especially when you swear you almost see him cry

He holds you close to his heart

Alfred insisted you didn’t get him anything but you end up with a similarly handmade gift in the form of recipes written on parchment and bound together in a beautiful ribbon

When asked you simply say you got it from a friend, specifically Mrs.C

And then it comes time for your own presents

And it’s a bit overwhelming

So many boxes wrapped in elegant paper addressed to you

All tied together with pretty bows and streamers

Box after box is handed to you as Damien sits by your side

You’d haven’t even opened any yet and everyone is fighting amongst one another on who’s you should open first

When all of a sudden Damien reveals you’d already opened one

Much to everyone and your own confusion

Except for Alfred who smiles alongside the Al Ghul

Damien points to your sweater

And it sets in for everyone

Turns out he made the Christmas sweater

Not Alfred

When the butler was beginning work on yours Damien insisted he wanted to make it for you

So Alfred obliged and taught him how to knit through the past couple months and make the design

It explains the bunny’s on the sweater

Alongside why he one day came to you holding up several shades of yarn and asked which was your favourite before scurrying off somewhere

After that more presents are opened

Damien smirking and glaring with pride as Tim, Jason and Dick hand you more presents

Unsurprisingly a lot of it is magical girl based merchandise

Though it’s also mixed with a plethora of things like clothes, plushes, books and even some jewelry

From under the tree you even get gifts from a few justice league members

And you some from a few villains as well that Bruce explained stopped him last night and demanded be given to you since you were off duty this Christmas

Though by how you keep repeat rubbing your eyes it seems less like it

“You alright there?” Dick asks as he hands you another present from under the tree, another figurine to add to your growing collection

“Yeah, I’m really tired from last night” you explain rubbing the back of your neck making the rest of the family look at you in confusion

Jason speaks up first, “but you weren’t on patrol last night? We all told you to take Christmas off”

“I wasn’t on patrol…or at least a traditional one” you explain pulling up your phone, it was still weird getting used to this stupid thing. Too many apps and buttons for your taste.

“What exactly does that mean sister?” Damien prodded as you pulled up a picture on your phone.

Holding your phone up the rest of the family goes silent, there in picture form is you in a magical angel ensemble with a halo wings and all but it’s where you are that’s the most interesting. In the background of the picture is a bunch of reindeer attached to the vehicle you were in, the further most deer emanating a red light from its nose that helps light the way through the snow raining down from the heavens as the rest navigate overtop Paris and the Eiffel Tower.

The silence is broken when everyone but an unsurprised Alfred at the top of their lungs begin demanding answers to an obvious question.

????

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the enormous house not a peep was spoken not even a mouse

The family was out all but you, a little girl tucked asleep in her room

But by the stroke of midnight something a tap tap tap rattled you from your sleep

And by your window there stood a man on his sleigh

20 feet up in the air because your room was on the second story floor

A jolly man in red, the one and only Santa Claus tapped at your window and-

Yeah…enough with the rhyming stuff this is getting difficult

So yeah, last night imagine your surprise when you woke up to find Santa tapping on the glass of your window

The jolly iconic man in white and red waving you over to open it

When Santa entered through the window he sat down and asked for you help

Apparently the shadowmites were something even he couldn’t exactly deal with

And when he’s dealing with delivering presents it’s not exactly nice being knawed on by shadow creatures

So he implored your help to make sure Christmas went smoothly this year

And how could you say not to an offer like that

So transforming into your magical outfit you decided what you’d do for your theme

And picked an angel, specifically a snow angel based on the snow angels you’d made with Jason and the angel atop the Christmas tree

Because you’d be looking over everyone just as she did

And so you hopped on Santa’s sleigh and got to work with him delivering presents

Quite honestly delivering presents with St.Nick is quite a fun job

He’s warm and friendly, answering your questions and laughing with glee when explaining stories to you

The reindeer are equally friendly

On the occasionally breaks taken for cookies and milk you get to pet them

Rudolph affectionately booping his nose against your own or Cupid having you readjust her bows attacked to her antlers

A feat according to Santa was something few were allowed to do

And Rigel who sat in Santa’s shoulder

The two talking like old friends

Which implied that Santa was some sort of godly being like him

Which…honestly tracks of your honest

How else would he be able to do this in a single night?

Let alone the fact he had a magical bag containing all his gifts and letters

Along with a list that magically tells him if someone was good or bad within the span of a year

So yeah, safe to assume he’s some sort of god

Maybe like Alfred

Off into the night sky you go, taking a seat beside the gift giving man as he handed you his list to read aloud

A check mark beside a name signifying if they were good and a X for if they were bad

Most names you didn’t recognize as you expected

But a few make you pause

And makes you pull out from the magical bag beside you the gifts you’d been holding for said somebodies

Apparently the sack contained Santa’s gifts and the gifts of anyone during Christmas

Yours included

And Santa just laughs in joy when you ask if you could deliver your own presents as well

John Constantine nearly choked on his cigarette when you appeared at the house of mystery with Santa in tow

The living house shifting around the two of you as you climbed down the chimney with your gift in hand

He can only take it wordlessly before you and Santa climb back out like nothing happened, the house of mystery even creating bricks for proper footing on the way out

For the house you also leave a gift in the form of a pretty wreath for the door

A shudder waves back and forth as you both fly away

Klarion in his own personal realm before you and Santa came crashing in politely with a knock on an inter dimensional door

Because of you this year he somehow worked his way onto the good list

The bottom if the good list but still on it regardless

And thus got more than a chunk of coal for his efforts from Santa

Plus your gift to him of the limited edition 2016 discord and fluttershy figure

Later on in the night when you both fly past Clark he does a double take and seems like if he was Wondering if he was hallucinating

In Atlantis you leave a gift for Arthur under a Christmas tree shaped out of coral

Though themyscira doesn’t exactly celebrate you and Santa do leave a gift for Diana and some of the Amazonians

In Gotham beneath a small Charlie Brown Christmas tree you leave to Waylon a new heater plus Santa’s gift of a heated blanket

You leave something for Harley and Ivy plus some new toys for bud and Lou beneath their freshly grown Christmas tree

Santa even takes you off the planet to do a tradition of his that he did ever year

Aka giving coal to some guy called darkseid

He sounded vaguely familiar but besides Gotham villains you didn’t pay attention beyond that

Apparently he’s at the top of the bad list each year

You wait on the sleigh for when he delivers the coal

But watch as laser beams try to shoot you both down as Santa laughs at whoever shoots them

Even when the beams twist and turn and try to keep up before eventually stopping

But it’s eventually through most of the night that you realize something

There were barely any Shadowmites at all

At least not enough for Santa to be worried about and employ your help with

So it brings up the question, why were you brought on to help this year

And it’s a question the old man answers quite easily as you both sail through to the North Pole for a small pit stop

“Well young lady I thought I’d give you a bit more of different type of gift this year” the jolly old man explains rubbing his long white beard tangled with a few candycanes and cookie crumbs. His grin is unrivaled as is his moustache that’s curled like an old cartoon character, giving him a fun air of whimsy.

“What do you mean?” You end up asking, looking to him in confusion

He smiles, digging out his magic bag some letters that he hands to you. Each are from a different sender but almost all from Gotham, or surrounding area’s. When you read them you begin to understand. Each are addressed to Santa from numerous different people, some are kids, some adults, but all ask for one thing this Christmas, and it’s that you have an amazing Christmas this year. In each letter they detail how you saved them or helped them in some capacity, and that this year instead of a gift for themselves they wanted to give you something.

But that isn’t all, more letters begin to pour out the bag as the sleigh glides atop the Aurora borealis. More and more letters than you could count on your own, all detailing that they wanted you to have a merry Christmas. they fly past but you hear their contents as they fall into the green glow of the aurora which after a moment create phantom memories of the writers form, shimmery wistful versions of them made of greens and purples reading out their letters.

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice that every year you worked hard on Christmas just as I did” the old man tuts, patting your head before going back to guiding his reindeer “though the difference between you and me was Christmas spirit. Though, I can’t blame you for not having it considering circumstance. But year after year of those letters asking for you to have a good Christmas as their gift, and there wasn’t much I could give to do that. So what better to do than give you something a bit different instead? An experience can still be a gift can it not? Especially when it gives you the Christmas spirit you long missed out on”

What he says makes you pause, year after year implies that ever since you began being a magical girl he’d gotten letters asking for this one Christmas wish. And it was yearly that others asked for you to be happy during this holiday, you of all people.

You’d never really understood Christmas until that moment, and it hits you all at once

When you dry your tears into the soft red velvet of Santa’s coat he doesn’t say anything, he just holds you close saying that “you of all people on my list deserves a very merry Christmas ever year my dear”

“And that’s how I ended up exchanging recipes with Mrs claus and ended playing black jack with krampus” you explain showing more photos to your increasingly mortified family

“Well…I….you know what I don’t really know what to say to this” Bruce mutters completely stumped as the others don’t look like their faring any better

If they thought this was weird your not sure how your gonna explain meeting the personification of dreams named Morpheus and also befriending him

But maybe that was a bombshell for another time

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello Aubrie! Goood, I love your writing so much, and I couldn't wait to send in another request!

Could I ask for Eyeless Jack and his s/o going on a date day? How it would look like and all that? (can be sfw/nsfw)

I decided to keep it just SFW this time as I was just in a fluffy vontent mood today, but you can feel free to request date night specific spicy stuff with EJ next time if you'd like :) I hope you enjoy, I'm extra tired today so my writing may be different but I had a need for EJ fluff

Your date day actually ends up being a date night with this one, as your boyfriend is nocturnal, however, he gets up a bit earlier than normal if the two of you want to spend a "day" together. Normally waking at about 6:00 pm, Jack will get up around 4:00 on a day the two of you wish to spend together. He'll spend a little while waking up, curled up in bed with you, discussing things you want to do, getting ready to go out with you, just waiting for the sun to go down more so Jack can handle being around the light (as he can't handle visibly bright light very well, hence the nocturnal part :p).

He'll make sure you get something yummy to eat for dinner, and that's usually your first spot on your date nights. The Underworld is full of restaurants that operate 24/7, so he'll take you out to eat at whichever place you'd prefer to go to, and you'll both sit and talk for a while over food. Even with the nocturnal citizens out and about, the Underworld is a lot more quiet at night, so Jack enjoys walking through it with you, enjoying the peace of it. The two of you might window shop a bit, going into any stores that catch your eye. I think if it's warm enough you two have a tradition of getting ice cream together, because there are places that serve a mix of demon and human appropriate flavors, so you can get whichever flavor you'd prefer, and EJ can get his go-to blood ice cream so he can enjoy it as well. Following that, Jack always loves taking you for another walk, this time through the forests of the Underworld. The air is nice and fresh, and the creatures running about are usually attracted to Jack, so he always gets excited by the chance to tell you what the different animals are, and because they trust him so much you can even pet them while they sit contentedly beside him.

It's not until either the sun starts coming back up or you start to get too tired that the two of you finally begin to make your way back to the mansion together. Once you get back, Jack normally prefers to enter relaxation mode with you again. You'll take a relaxing shower together, and then put on some perfectly fluffy, soft pajamas (Jack is a connoisseur of comfortable fabrics), and curl up in bed once more. Some nights you guys might put on a show in the background, or some music, or anything you're in the mood to watch and just sit, and cuddle to the background noise. However, there are also nights like tonight, when you snuggle up and read together. It always starts with both of you reading your own preferred books in silence, but then usually one of you grows more tired faster than the other (usually you, as it's generally 5:00 am by this point), and the other person will read their own book aloud for both of you. Days like these generally end with you fast asleep in Jack's arms due to your need for sleep overcoming you, and Jack will always chuckle and set his book aside, before pulling you into his chest, and finally falling asleep himself. You usually always wake before him, unless you sleep the whole day away (sometimes Jack also just refuses to let you out of his arms on purpose but shhhh it's fine, it doesn't matter), but post date day snuggles are also mandatory in this relationship, so really, date days are like two days in one because you've gotta recoup your energy from staying up so late. Even if the two of you just spend a date day curled up inside playing board games or reading, or even just silently snuggling up, Jack doesn't mind, so long as he gets to spend as much time with you as possible, anything is fine in his opinion. He's just thankful to have you there with him.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Blabber Mouth Hydro Men

Return to File

Recovery date: January 5th, 2025

Description: Hey I just had an adorable idea from the anime tadaima okaeri, specifically the ending of episode 3, where the main characters discovered they were going to have a second child because of their first born, so I was wondering how would the genshin impact men react to this kind of situation

Notes: CW brief mentions of fertility issues on Childe's end, accidental pregnancy in Neuvillette's This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions. Reader can carry children but no pronouns are used.

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Childe

Man is overjoyed you’ve got one kid

Honestly wasn’t sure he could have them, between Abyssal contamination and the overall abuse his body has withstood

Plus his delusion

When he found out you were pregnant the first time, he actually cried

He wishes he could be with you two more often, but he has a duty to the Tsaritsa

And of course, now, to create a better world for your little one

It’s when he comes home from Fontain, all battered and bruised, that you find out you’re pregnant with your second

You join them and your kid starts talking to your belly about the story

Ajax, remembering how is own siblings did that before the birth of the next, immediately asked if you were pregnant

You jokingly scold your child for spoiling the surprise and Ajax pulls you into a big hug, crushing your child in the middle

You’re worried he’ll pull a stitch, and your child is complaining about being squished

But he’s ecstatic, he always wanted to give your kid a sibling… or twelve

One more is a good start though

Ayato

Children were always in his future, and until he met you he didn’t really care about that fact

Then you got together and he saw having children as more than just a duty

He’ll admit, having your first may have partly been due to political pressure

But he would never make you do anything you didn’t want to, he vowed that on your wedding day

Uses you and your child to get out of work, saying stuff like “you wanted me to have an heir, and now I have more duties to attend to”

It’s on one of these days where you three are at a children’s festival

Your child is looking at a bunch of toys and picks out a Sumerian made plushy from a traveling merchant

The kid comes back and presses it against your stomach, making a kissing sound

Ayato remembers how is mother told him he did something similar when she was pregnant with Ayaka

So he hugs you a little closer and kisses your temple, not one for making big scenes in public

You’re of course baffled because, really? This is how your husband finds out

When you get home he sends your little one off and asks if there’s something you’d like to tell him

Tease him a bit, saying you don’t know what he’s talking about

He’ll kneel down and kiss your stomach, thanking you for everything you do for him

Neuvillette

Doesn’t really think about having kids

You have the Melusine, and when he briefly considers having kids he quickly decides it’s a bad idea

Prepares to tell you as much if you bring it up, he’s a dragon who knows how that would work if it could at all

Well surprise surprise, it does

He’s worried all throughout your first pregnancy, but it winds up being fairly similar to a human pregnancy

You’ve always been on the same page that you’d like kids, it was really just the pregnancy that had him worried

So you two are happy with one

Neuvillette comes home from work one evening, and you greet him at the entrance with a kiss

Before he can call out to your kid, then come running in and he picks them up to kiss them on the cheek

Then they insist he kiss their sibling, and his brain stops working

He thought his senses were overacting, but no if your little one thought the same

Give his brain a second to restart, then it starts raining really hard outside

Happy tears of course, nothing could make him happier than knowing you’re about to have another little one

And this time he’ll be less panicky during the pregnancy, so he can enjoy the moments more

[panlight]

I remember seeing a post once about how Bella's only really ~selfless~ when it comes to the Edward/the Cullens and i honestly agree.

even if midnight sun supposedly gave more moments of bella's told ~kindness and selflessness~ in the main books where they're actually from HER pov there are still plenty moments where it comes off otherwise.

She only really gets close to jacob just to have him tell her about the legends, so she can figure out more about edward/his family, to which in MS Edward gets this ✨brilliant✨ idea to use that as a "justification" to slaughter a tribe that already is willing to allow his family in their area despite having EVERY right to not welcome them due to what their kind can do to their people. so that's..fun :) (actually speaking of MS, I can't get over how edward is bitching about billy being rightfully leery of them and hates how he sees them as monsters despite saying the same things to Bella whenever he wants to convince her of how dangerous their relationship/her choice to be a vampire is. lol)

In new moon, she only decides to reconnect with Jessica mainly to "get Charlie off her back" and when Jessica gets rightfully upset that she nearly got into trouble approaching some shady guys in a bar, Bella sees Jessica as "having gone to the dark side". Like?? Bella, your lucky she even still bothered to hang out with you after giving her the cold shoulder for months. And the first time you two hang out, you nearly endangered yourself AND her all because you wanted to see a figment of Edward in your head.

In fact! While I like Jacob's friendship with Bella in new moon (idc if people said it was boring because "no vampires"; the platonic chemistry bella and jacob had was 👌👌) the fact was Bella's original plan to see Jacob was to get him to fix the bikes so she can keep seeing "Edward" in her head.

I remember being irritated at Bella mostly at the end of New Moon, tbh. A moment that stood out was when Charlie was mad at Edward for leaving her behind and what he did to her (as a good father SHOULD) yet Bella threatens him to leave home if he won't ease up on edward as if he's the one who doesn't get it?? Bella sucks in that scene because earlier she LEARNS how hard it was for Charlie, seeing her like that and trying every possible way to help her (only for Bella to reject it each time) and yet he's expected to deal with the same guy who, from his perspective, broke his daughter's heart like nothing happened??

In Eclipse, while Bella's moment with Angela helping her with the letters was nice (wish we got more of these small moments, especially if Angela was supposedly such a good friend to her), it's tainted with how it was mainly so she wouldn't have to confront Edward's anger (yikes) for her seeing Jacob.

Actually, most of Eclipse i really disliked how Bella kinda see's anyone that doesn't kiss ass to the Cullens or are completely okay with her despite how she treated them during her depression period as the "bad guys" (Bella's words on her classmates: "us vs them").

Honestly, Breaking Dawn was such a hot mess (though our little friend group may be revisiting the entire saga (which will unfortunately include BD) next year for it's 20th anniversary, so...godspeed lol) but the main thing that stood out was how she and the Cullens were just...willing to host all the visiting vampires over at Forks, these vampires who DO feed on human blood, and risk all the children of the tribe phasing into wolves. And ALL she has to say about either are "well, them feeding on humans makes me uncomfortable but oh well :( " and "with all these vampires, the explosion of werewolf population was inevitable :0" Tbh it's not just Bella in this situation, the Cullens in here really suck. There was NO reason they couldn't just meet somewhere else. I do partially blame Jacob for it too, because I *think* there was this line where he talks (to Edward iirc?) about how hard it is to be away from Ricochet, but dude! Just go with them! You don't need to endanger the younger people in your tribe! You of ALL people should know what that's like!!

So far that's all i have to say becus that's all I can remember (though that might change once our friend book club get together next year for the saga's 20th, where our memories will be much more fresh XD). it's just,,,UGH, I can't wrap my head with how Edward and Jacob go on about Bella being so ~selfless~ with Jacob even going on about how she's a ~martyr when really, her selflessness is either selective, or mostly just self-serving.

I really enjoy the Jacob and Bella friendship, too, but when you stop and think about it . . . it all started with her using him. The first time she awkwardly attempted to flirt with him to get him to tell her the 'scary stories' on the beach, and then in New Moon she shows up out of nowhere because she wants him to fix the bikes. Bella eventually realizes like "oh hey I genuinely like spending time with Jake," but it started with "what can I get out of him?"

And like, fine! Humans do that kind of stuff! We're flawed! It's just weird the narrative is demonizing Jessica for like, mostly hanging out with Bella to try and get some of Bella's instant popularity to rub off on her, but Bella gets a pass for her treatment of Jacob because Protagonist. Bella's allowed to be flawed, that's great, makes her more interesting, but the overall narrative is still like "omg so SELFLESS" and it's like, um sometimes?

And yeah I will always hate the Breaking Dawn feeding situation. There are so many better ways to resolve it. But I think SM ultimately wasn't really interested in the vegetarian vampire stuff beyond just needing a reason Edward and Bella could be together. There are fun things she could have done here if she like, cared. She's already established that Carlisle is buying blood. Maybe their guests would have found it delightfully amusing to be served blood in wine glasses or Esme could make like 1950s housewife blood Jello molds or something. OR there could have been arguments about it! Carlisle trying to persuade them, Emmett challenging them "bet you can't go a week on our diet plan!" Rosalie sneering in disgust. Siobhan testing her maybe-power by trying to see if she can will everyone to abstain. OR they were literally only there for like two weeks. That's the average length of time between hunting. The book kind of makes it feel like they were there for a long time, but the earliest showed up middle of December and the confrontation is on New Year's Eve. Also I can't get over the idea that all these people KNOW Carlisle. Some have known him longer than the other Cullens have! You don't go visit your devout vegan friend and expect to be served bacon cheeseburgers. You try the tofu stir-fry.

But SM didn't really want to get into it, so Bella doesn't super care. I personally think "it makes me a little uncomfortable" was just the laziest, least satisfying way to handle it. And the shifters just having to stand there and watch because oh well we need them to witness for Nessie and she's Jacob's imprint so she matters more than anyone else is, uh, not good. Especially when earlier in the SAME BOOK Sem straight-up says: "When blood drinkers cross our land, we destroy them, no matter where they plan to hunt. We protect everyone we can." Again, there could be interesting conflict here, but it would shift the focus from the Bella and Nessie stuff, so Bella just feels a little bad and we move on.

But anyway yeah I think Bella's the most selfless when it comes to grand gestures. She'll exile herself to Forks so Renee will be free to travel, she'll sacrifice herself to James to save her mom, she'll consider stabbing herself with a rock to distract Victoria and Riley to save Edward and Seth, she'll risk her life and dreamed-of eternity with Edward to bring Renesmee into the world. But in the day-to-day stuff, she can be just as selfish and manipulative and judgmental as anyone else. She's 'human,' even when she's not human anymore.

[omgahgase]

Charthur short

Charles breaks his bow and Arthur gets him a new very special one 🥰

hello there! sorry this lil ask took too long, and sorry that it's not short haha. i love the idea of arthur doing anything for charles bc He's In Love, so here's my take of their relationship before getting together. i hope you enjoy!

It’s a well-known fact in camp and by his friends and by just about anyone that’s asked Arthur for any help making anything outside his expertise of shitty knives:

Arthur ain’t no craftsman.

Yeah, he can chip away at a rock and wrap it around a stick then call it an arrow, and he can weave a basket—nothing else, though, that’s about as far as he can get without Jack or one of the girls aiding his helpless fingers—and, sure, he can tie up a piece of line to any broken branch and head on down to the lake with the world’s most God awful fishing pole, but the truth still stands.

If Arthur had to choose between crafting someone an item and not having it fall apart after its first use, or getting shot in the mouth…Well, then, Arthur’s making sure that bullet goes straight through his throat and out the back of his head.

So why, in God’s green Earth, is Arthur making a new bow for Charles after he broke his old one?

‘Because you love him,’ Arthur thinks, gentle in the same way his cheeks redden at the mere thought of Charles, in correction to Eagle Flies’ snarky, “I don’t know, you asked me for help,” that lights up a spark of irritation in Arthur’s gut, makes Arthur want to shove him off the log he’s perched on.

“This may be the most foolish thing I’ve ever done,” Arthur says, twirling the knife in his hand that’s speckled in his own blood.

He stares at the piece of chokecherry wood in front of him, the branch now thinner than when Arthur chopped it off and whittled it down to a poor, uneven shape that hardly resembles a stick let alone a bow. It took a little over a month to get the wood and then season it, this process he wanted to do himself because it’s special, Eagle Flies said, to put your emotions into a piece of Earth and ask the land if it’s okay to take a piece of its tree for his own desires—for Charles, his mind keeps saying. So he can’t screw it up unless he wants to start all over again. Arthur can’t afford mistakes, but his project laughs at him, it seems, and Arthur, finding himself comfortable in his frustration, wants to burn it.

“A fool in love is stronger than any beast or man he encounters,” Eagle Flies says, crafting improved arrows to Arthur’s right. He holds one up to his eye and stares down the line of it. “Your affection for Charles is deep, therefore, your actions are foolish.” He shrugs, and motions for Arthur to keep whittling. “Keep going. You're nearly there.”

“I almost lost a finger.”

“Your lover will thank you.”

Arthur feels his cheeks go from warm to uncomfortably hot. He tips his hat down over his eyes to hide the deep blush spreading over his face. “Charles ain’t my lover,” he mumbles, a correction to a hopeful assumption.

Eagle Flies only hums as he places his arrow in his pile and Arthur kinda wants to fire all of them into the distance just so his friend can feel an inkling of his annoyance. Arthur does understand that Charles will be grateful, however, no matter how shitty his new bow may turn out. Sadie gave Arthur the suggestion, said that it’ll take Charles months to construct a new bow while Arthur can figure something out and get a new one in his hands in less than that, and Arthur—with his squirrel brain that as of five months, two weeks, and six days ago (but, really, who’s counting?) hasn’t been able to keep Charles Smith out of his head—ran with it. He overestimated his abilities in the fine art of craftsmanship (and thinking with any logical parts of his brain when it comes to Charles) and damn near killed himself gathering everything he needed to make a bow.

Arthur sought out Eagle Flies not too long after Sadie planted the seedling of the thought in his head, asking him what it’d take to trade so he could get his hands on any materials ready for bow crafting. Eagle Flies, with a light in his eyes and a kick in his step, rattled off a list of items his tribe needed. Fresh berries from the West Grizzlies, wolf and cougar pelts, big game from The Heartlands, eagle feathers from the highest cliffs of Donner Falls. He even had to wipe out a few rowdy stragglers who were camped up too close to the tribe, something Eagle Flies said about his father not wanting to wander into outlaw affairs so Arthur best get the job done because it won’t be too suspicious if a Van der Linde boy does it.

After choosing his tree and setting it out to dry, Arthur spent the better half of the week hunting and gathering, putting his neck out on the line for anything that can make Charles a bow as good as the one he made himself, and by the time he had everything he needed in his possession, he was more bruised and bloody than a shitty bull rider at the state fair.

Arthur knows it’ll be worth it, though. If it means he can do something for Charles—and maybe crack a smile outta him, Arthur’s a greedy bastard down to his core and he needs to be on the receiving end of just one of Charles’ rare grins—then Arthur will gladly do it all over again.

He huffs, loudly, and gathers up the remaining incentive to keep going. Eagle Flies said he's almost done whittling, then all that's left is to string the sinew, and add little decorative designs along the shape of it because every bow is different, none is ever exactly the same. That’s what Eagle Flies told him when Arthur first started this journey.

‘Every bow is unique in its own way. Make it your own.’

‘But it’s not for me,’ Arthur had said. ‘I’m makin’ it for Charles.’

Eagle Flies only looked at him, wearing the same face Sadie wore when she gave him the idea. ‘Make it for him, then, but give a piece of yourself into every step. Put your emotions into your craft, and make it yours. Both of yours.’

‘Make it ours,’ Arthur reminds himself as he gets back to work.

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

One month, twenty-six days, and seven hours. That’s how long it took him to make a bow.

Arthur has more scars on his hands now than he ever did before he set out to make this gift, which granted him the full understanding of the saying ‘putting in the blood, sweat, and tears’ into something you love. Arthur loves Charles more than he thinks is capable of a man like him, so why wouldn’t he put in all his effort?

He’d do just about anything for Charles, that’s been established a long time, maybe even back then in Colter when Charles suffered from a burnt hand and Arthur did everything in his power to make sure he didn’t injure it any further. That was the start of it all, Arthur believes, and now in the present time, Arthur isn’t tending to his wounds anymore, instead, he’s tending to the ache in his chest telling him to do grand displays of affection. Like crafting an entirely new bow when Arthur is the shittiest craftsman from here to Blackwater.

Arthur sucks in a deep breath to steel the jitters in his hands, his fingers clutching at the leather wrapping of the bow like a lifeline, and walks a little way down to the lake’s shoreline. Flat Iron Lake ain’t that much to look at it in the daytime, the heat of Lemoyne making the sand feel like hot rocks and the water like a warm bath, but in the evenings, when the sun’s setting just right, a blaze sparks across the horizon, makes the bright blue of the water’s surface turn a flower petal pink, then a dusky orange.

It’s pretty, hell, Arthur would even say it’s beautiful, but he won’t. Nah, the most beautiful thing about the lake is when Charles stands at the water’s edge, his features painted in the ever-changing color of the sky, his hair long and wavy down his back, the outline of his frame strong, sturdy like a mountain, and just as gorgeous. He just stares out into the water, soaking it in, eyes soft in the setting sun, and Arthur can’t think of anything prettier.

Arthur swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, then, “‘Scuse me, Mr. Smith,” he calls.

Charles turns, his fair falling in front of his eyes when he sees Arthur, and, suddenly, it’s only them. Call it Arthur’s tunnel vision—hell, even call him crazy if it fits—but at the moment Charles fully faces him, the barest hint of a smile on his face (is he surprised? Arthur hopes so), the lake, camp, everything around them falls away.

“Hello, Arthur,” Charles greets, meeting him halfway along the shore’s edge. He stops just shy of a foot away, and Arthur has to resist the urge to pull him closer. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on that stagecoach job with John?”

“Nah, Martson can handle it.” Arthur clears his throat, then, before his brain can tell him to high tail it back to his tent, he thrusts out the leather wrapping. “I got somethin’ for you.”

Charles’ eyebrows knit together quizzically before he looks down as if just realizing it was there, his lips going all pouty in that way he does when he doesn’t understand something. “What’s the occasion?” He asks, gingerly taking the wrappings and undoing the ties.

“No occasion, Mr. Smith. It’s just—well, I thought that um—” Before Arthur can stop himself, his mind going from overly polite to ‘Don’t say anythin’ stupid,’ his mouth kicks into overdrive and rambles a string of words in a single breath.

“I know you broke your bow last time you went huntin’, and it’s hard tryin’ to find somethin’ like that in any ‘ol store, so I made you a new one—it ain’t as pretty as your last one—shoot, it probably don’t work much better neither, but I made it—for you—so I hope it gets the job done.”

Arthur’s head swims woozy by the time his words fall free, and his gut churns with anticipation as Charles looks upon the bow, his expression hidden by the shadow of the descending sun. Arthur’s feet are leaden to the ground, his hands trembling a shake so violent he hides them behind his back, and after a few seconds of agonizing silence, of Charles tracing the curved line of his new weapon with a delicate finger and tweaking the sinew strings, he lifts his head. Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You made this?” He asks, marveled, eyes the softest shade of brown Arthur’s ever seen on him.

Arthur clears his throat, manages a croaked, “Yeah.”

Charles just continues to feel it, grips over the leather wrapping of the middle part, and then, as if in a trance, his eyes land on the engravings just above. His thumb runs over it, gently, as if the bison might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You did this too?” His voice is so deep, so soft as if he’s speaking to Arthur in a dream that Arthur almost misses his question.

“Yeah. Eagle Flies helped, a ‘lil. Actually, he’s the one who taught me how to make it. I didn’t—I wanted to do it right.” The ‘for you’ threatens to barrel roll from his lips but Arthur swallows it down, forcing it to the back of his throat. “Bison are important to your family. So,” he shrugs, trying to pass it off as nonchalant when his body’s buzzing like a hummingbird.

Charles’ eyes land on the second engraving, a buck that sits just below the leather, and something in the way he spoke, like a gentle rustle in the grass, shook Arthur to his core. “Is this you?”

Arthur nods, steps a little closer so he can brush his fingers over the buck too, just shy of Charles’ own. “The lines took the longest. Almost lost a finger while doin’ it.” Charles chuckles, endeared, and he’s smiling, a small barely there upturn of his lips that Arthur wants to sketch and keep in his pocket forever. “Eagle Flies said to make it special, to, y���know, make it my own. It’s yours, though, but I still wanted to have a ‘lil bit of myself there. So it’s—it’s kinda like ours—in a way, I guess.”

Arthur bites his tongue, stopping himself from saying anything else that will make his face redder than a fire ant’s ass. He hopes the flaming rays of the sun can cover his blush, but even his luck can’t make miracles.

“It’s beautiful,” Charles says, so earnestly that Arthur’s heart drops from his throat and does a can-can number in his chest. “It’s like you’ll be with me wherever I go.”

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Charles,” Arthur counters, baffled by the thought that he wouldn’t follow Charles to the end of the Earth. If he asked or not, Arthur’s with him.

Charles stares at him, then, equally as mystified. “You will?”

As if Arthur would be anywhere else. “Always.”

It’s Charles’ turn to surprise him, then, by lunging into Arthur’s person with the force of a bolder. He hugs him tight, squeezes around Arthur’s shoulders, and tucks his face close to his ear. He doesn’t say anything, not until Arthur’s body catches up to his brain and he wraps his arms around Charles’ middle, holding on just as close.

“Thank you, Arthur. No one’s ever given me something like this, or ever treated me this nice before.”

“I will,” Arthur says, his voice muffled by the fabric of Charles’ shirt, but still holding so much weight to it that Charles steps in until the entirety of their bodies are pressed together. “You’re my friend, Charles. I would do anyin’ for you.”

Charles sucks in a sharp breath. “Thank you.”

They separate far too quickly for Arthur’s liking, the sun nearly gone behind the mountains and the moon already high in the sky. Charles continues to stare at his gift as if he can’t believe it’s actually his like he can’t imagine someone going out of their way to give him something as heartfelt.

(In the back of his mind, Arthur vows to break that train of thought, to make Charles believe he’s not just put on this Earth to hurt, but to live, and, hopefully, to love.)

But still, even if Charles likes it, Arthur still has to say, “Sorry if it ain’t as good as your old one.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Charles scolds, his eyebrows knitting together. “It’s perfect.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “You and I both know my craftsmanship is shit. You don’t even know how it shoots.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Arthur. You’re more of a wonder than you think you are.” He smiles, then, closed mouth and so sweet that his cheeks bunch up under his eyes, and Arthur officially goes dumb. “Come. Practice with me while we still have light.”

He brushes past Arthur, up the little hill towards the small clearing near camp. When Arthur doesn’t move because he’s too busy reeling at granted something so small and special, something no one else in camp gets to see, Charles calls out to him.

“You coming with me, cowboy?”

Immediately, Arthur is next to him, standing so close their knuckles brush and a spark shoots out somewhere in the distance.

“Always.”

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy decides what to do about Mosley, and Lizzie comes home.

Word Count: 6,249

Warnings: Insecurity, a very unhappy marriage, and references to polyamory.

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Chapter 5: The Thread is Ripping

“Which one is Mosley?”

Lucy and Ada were sitting in the observation booth, overlooking the MP’s benches. Craning her head to peer down at the men, Lucy gestured with her cigarette towards where Mosley sat, his head cocked as he listened to Tommy speak. 

“That one.”

Ada leaned forward, arms resting on the banister, eyes fixing on Mosley with a keen level of scrutiny in them that reminded Lucy and awful lot of how Tommy looked at someone when he was first sizing them up. 

Bringing her cigarette back to her lips, Lucy turned her attention back to Tommy, allowing herself a moment to just enjoy watching him speak. 

“I’m really not sure about going ahead with this meeting, Lucy,” Ada told her as they went to meet Tommy out in the hall after the speakers were done.  

“I know. But Tommy wants to hear what he has to say.”

“As if a man like that could have anything good to say.”

“All the more reason to hear it, then.”

“You can’t possibly be alright with Tommy considering working with him.”

“It’s just drinks, Ada. And he’s not considering anything with Mosley yet.”

Ada’s voice lowered, eyes shifting around to make sure no one was listening. “So what is he doing, then? Because I know my brother, and as bloody infuriating as he can be sometimes, I don’t believe that he actually agrees with any of Mosley’s more recent policies.”

A group of men dressed in fine, pressed suits walked past them. Lucy eyes them warily, waiting until they had passed before speaking. 

“Burying our heads in the sand when it comes to Mosley and the growing movement behind him isn’t going to help anyone. Better to get to know if he and this new party he’s supposedly forming are an actual threat or not.”

“So you can deal with it now?”

Lucy wetted her lips. “Better to kill it while it’s young than when it’s grown formidable and strong.”

She could feel Ada still watching her while she broke their gaze to look around for Tommy.

“Why did he even ask me here?”

Lucy looked back at her, weighed in her mind if it was worth telling her or not, and decided that it was. “Because Mosley scares him.”

Shocked silence met her at that. There was a shift in Ada, as she finally started to understand what they were dealing with. “Does he scare you?”

“Yes.” She finally heard Tommy’s telltale heavy footfalls coming up behind them, turning to find him approaching hastily. 

“Sorry, got cornered by a few people. Had to make small talk. Shall we?” He gestured down the hall. 

“Tommy, you made me your political advisor,” Ada said as they walked. “And as your political advisor, it is my official advice that you don’t meet with Mr. Mosley.”

“Yes, I know.”

They made their way into a dimly lit, crowded lounge, embellished by leather seats and chairs, each circular table adorned with a small red-shaded lamp. MPs and other political figures were gathered at tables or milling about, the lounge with its bar a common place for them to gather to discuss business or other dealings. 

Mosley was already seated at a table when they arrived, a newspaper held up to his face. He lowered it at the sound of their approaching footsteps, face breaking into a beaming smile that did nothing to hide the deadness of his eyes as he stood to greet them and shake Tommy’s hand. 

“And Miss. Winters, of course, wonderful to see you again.”

She forced herself to shake his hand, skin crawling the entire time that their palms made contact. His leering gaze was respitefully pulled quickly away from her as his attention shifted towards Ada as Tommy introduced them. 

She tried to hide how she inched a little closer to Tommy before they sat down.

From an outside perspective, it may have looked like the meeting went smoothly. But as Mosley continued to speak, Lucy felt her sense of unnerving grow.

“You know, I was rather hoping we might have this meeting alone,” Mosley said, eyes never leaving Tommy’s. 

“Lucy accompanies me to most of my meetings, Mr. Mosley, and my sister is my political advisor,” Tommy explained. 

Ada spoke up, explaining that she had advised Tommy not to meet with him, and Mosley’s attention turned directly onto her. Lucy was impressed at the way Ada met his dark, empty gaze without so much as blinking. When he brought his hand down with a crash onto the table, shouting in demand that the whiskey they’d ordered only a few short minutes ago be brought out now, his gaze remained fixed pointedly on Ada. A clear telegraphing of his disapproval of her presence. An attempt at intimidation. At frightening her. 

If Ada was at all frightened by the display, she did a marvelous job hiding it. The corner of her lips turned up on one side, and she shot Lucy a look of mild amusement at the childish behavior from across the table. 

Can you believe that shit, Luce? her eyes seemed to say. Lucy managed a smirk back at her, reaching into her pocket for her cigarettes. Mosley’s gaze was turned back fully onto Tommy, but not for one second did Lucy think that he hadn’t taken note of the quiet exchange between her and Ada.

Good. Better for him to know that they thought him ridiculous rather than that they were scared of him. 

He dodged making any direct confirmations that facism was where he was moving towards politically. Instead, he gracefully turned the conversation towards, of all things, Ireland.

Lucy took a considerable gulp from her whiskey, eyes darting towards Tommy. His face remained schooled into an expression that gave away nothing, but she could tell that he was thinking of the same thing that she was:

That voice, on the other end of the telephone line. An Irish accent, explaining how there were men in Belfast who wanted him dead. Men who Michael had been allegedly cutting deals with.  

Landmines, in their own fucking garden. But who was the gardener? Who planted them? It couldn’t be Michael, he had still been on a ship or in Belfast when they were placed. So who was it, then? The men from Belfast, or someone else?

And what the fuck did Mosley know about it, if anything? Was it just a coincidence, that he brought up Ireland now, of all times? Or was it an indication of something else?

Enemies. Enemies in every fucking direction that they turned. Her skin prickled with that feeling of approaching, looming danger. Drawing nearer and nearer with every breath. 

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t relieved when Ada promptly stood, announcing that she was ready to leave. 

Mosley ignored her. “We’re looking for someone to begin a dialogue with certain elements in Belfast with whom we don’t officially have any dealings.” 

Lucy raised an eyebrow. She couldn’t help but find it a little funny how confident Mosley was that Tommy would be in any way supportive of his ideologies. And yet here he was, inviting him into his organization without seemingly even the slightest worry that Tommy would be opposed. 

It was often that she forgot that other people did not know Tommy like she did. 

Mosley did not seem dissuaded by Tommy’s gentle refusal of the offer. “It would involve a promotion.”

“Birmingham is my concern,” Tommy rose from his seat. Lucy mirrored him. “Ireland bores me.”

She and Ada couldn’t help but share a tiny smile at that. Tommy thanked Mosley for the whiskey, and led the way towards the exit. When she looked back while trailing behind him, it was to see Mosley watching them leave, a smirk pulling at one side of his lips. She turned her head sharply to face forward once more. 

“What the fuck was that about?” Ada asked once they were in an almost deserted hallway, a good distance away from Mosley and the lounge. 

“Ireland. It’s been Ireland’s day all fucking day long,” was all Tommy said in response, sidestepping her attempts to garner any more information on that subject. Instead, he started instructing her to go home and call her contacts from her time in Boston to ask about Michael. They drew aside, Tommy pacing back and forth, sounding off orders. Lucy watched him worriedly, sensing that something inside him was moments away from unraveling. 

“What are you talking about?” Ada asked, as he continued to ramble on about Mosley. 

“I’m talking about an empty chair, Ada,” Tommy’s voice was barely above a whisper. “My chair. My throne. People think that I’m gonna fall. They start behaving in a different way around you.”

“Who thinks that?” Ada had gone still.  

“They start to circle,” Tommy continued, as if he hadn’t even heard her. She shared an alarmed look with Lucy. “Who’s gonna take the throne, eh?”

“Tommy…” Lucy tried, reaching out a hand to him, hoping to pull him back from whatever dark precipice he was teetering on.  

“Linda, she wants some for Arthur…Aberama Gold…people in the north…Michael…” He seemed to only just then realize that words which he had not intended to speak had been pouring from his lips. His jaw hinged shut and he spun away, his back to her and Ada, clearing his throat while raising his cigarette to his lips. When he turned back to them, his expression was collected once more, the mask that had momentarily slipped once again firmly in place. He reissued his order for Ada to go home and make some calls. “I need to get back to Birmingham. Lucy.”  

“Yeah.” She made to follow him, as he was already moving with quick steps down the hall. 

“Lucy–” Ada grabbed at her arm, alarm clear in her voice. Lucy turned half back towards her, taking in the worried look in her wide eyes and reached out to squeeze her arm. 

“I’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

Ada’s lips pressed together, and while the concern still shimmered in her eyes, her shoulders relaxed a little. With a nod, she let Lucy go. 

She had to jog a little to catch up with Tommy, his steps more hurried than usual. Stupid short legs, she mentally cursed, shooting them a glower before quickening her pace. 

“Tommy…” she tried to get his attention, but he didn’t acknowledge her, and she decided not to try again until after they were out of the office and in the car, pulling out onto the street to start the trek back to Birmingham. 

“No one is taking anything,” she said finally, definitively. “I won’t let them.” When he didn’t respond, she looked over at him. Distress and paranoia was still etched onto his face, his eyes shifting around as if searching for unseen enemies. “Tommy?”   

“They’re all coming at us, Lucy.”

“Michael is a problem,” she acknowledged. “And so are the people up north. But I think Linda really just wants to get away. She’d sooner take Arthur back into the country than try to have him take your position. And you know that Arthur would never agree to usurping you. Aberama’s loyalty is guaranteed so long as we continue to support Bonnie’s boxing career.” She reached out to smooth a hand over the back of his head. “We’re alright. It’s mostly Michael and Mosley that we need to worry about now.” She watched his throat work as he swallowed, and she dropped her hand to instead rest on his forearm. “And, if any of the others do try to betray us, I’ll just kill them.”

He let out a small snort, looking over at her fondly. She was turned almost entirely with her side pressed against the leather seats of the car, body jostling slightly as they bounced along the uneven cobblestones. She cupped his cheek momentarily, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips. Some of the frantic paranoia had gone out in his eyes, and she relaxed at the knowledge that she’d managed to calm him down at least somewhat. He leaned into her touch, quickly turning his head to press a kiss to the center of her palm before returning his eyes back to the road. 

“What would I do without you, eh?” he asked. She pressed herself to his side, the physical contact doing wonders to calm both of them. And there in the safety of the shell of the car, she didn’t need to worry about anyone spotting them. Her head came to nestle against his shoulder, the material of his coat soft against her cheek. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking in regards to Mosley,” she requested. Tommy sighed, eyes remaining on the road while she rubbed a hand up and down his chest. 

“I don’t think he’s going to stop trying to get me to join his new party.”

“You’re not a fascist.” 

“Some in the family would say otherwise.” 

“Then they’d be wrong.” 

Tommy gave her a little peck on the side of the head for that. “I think he may be one of the worst people I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “And we’ve known some bad ones over the years.”

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he trailed the other through her hair. Being careful, as he always was, not to pull on any of the strands. “I have an idea. But it’s dangerous. And I’ll need to talk to Younger…”

She gave him a knowing look. “You want to do to Mosley and the fascists what you’ve been doing to Jessie and the communists.” 

“Yes.” 

“You think that you can stomach pretending to be one of them?”

“If it means stopping him.”

She nodded. Mosley was a monster creeping in the dark, waiting for an opportunity to pounce. Someone had to stop him. Might as well be them. They were probably some of the best equipped for the job, anyway.  

“You would be alright with it?” Tommy asked, and she smiled a little to herself at how he always sought out her opinion on things. 

“I’m happy with anything that wipes that smug look off his face.” Closing her eyes, she tilted her head to press a kiss to his neck. “You have my support. Always.”

“Thanks, love.” His hand dropped from stroking through her hair to wrap around her shoulders. “Have you managed to dig up anything on this Captain Swing yet?”

“Not much. Her real name is Laura McKee. She really is a commander in the IRA. That’s all our friends in Belfast have been able to find out, so far. I told them to keep digging.”

“Right.” 

They rode in silence for a stretch of time. 

“Are Lizzie and Ruby still coming home today?” she asked.

“Far as I know.”

“Maybe…she’ll be better now that she’s had some time away and gotten things out of her system.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” He sounded about as optimistic as someone who had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Lucy gave him a gentle pat in sympathy. His thumb rubbed back and forth against her upper arm where it was clasped. “Thank you for helping me with everything.”

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for.”

He pressed a kiss to her hair, and together they both turned their eyes to the dark road sprawling out in front of them.  

∗ ∗ ∗

When they arrived home, Tommy took all but three steps into the house, and was promptly collided into by Ruby when she came dashing into the entryway to throw herself into his arms. 

“Daddy!”

“Hello, my girl,” he hoisted her up so that her weight rested against one of his hips. Just the feel of her in his arms was enough to have the ache of missing her lessening. “How are you, eh? Did you have a good time at Uncle Arthur’s?”

She nodded, long dark hair swinging with her movements. “I baked brownies with Auntie Linda.”

“You did?”

“Hey kiddo,” Lucy stretched up on her toes to place a kiss to Ruby’s cheek after handing her coat off to Frances.

“Hi, Lucy!” Ruby beamed at her, and Tommy felt his heart swell. There was a time, he knew, that Lucy had been afraid that Ruby would hate her, given her complicated relationship with her mother. He couldn’t have been more grateful that wasn’t the case. He was pretty sure his sweet girl was incapable of hating anyone. 

Amazing; how something containing such kindness and purity could ever have come from him.      

The click of heels on the floor was his only warning to another figure approaching before Lizzie rounded the corner. Her head was held high, dress swishing around her ankles, hair styled meticulously in dark waves around her face. She did not smile when she saw him. 

Quiet stretched on between them all. Finally, he forced himself to awkwardly clear his throat. 

“Lizzie.”

“Tommy.” She said his name as if speaking the word was like swiping a razor along the inside of her throat. 

Swallowing, he set Ruby down on the floor, bending so that he was at her level. “Ruby, why don’t you take Lucy to the kitchens and show her what Aunt Linda taught you, eh?”

“Yeah! Okay!” She tottered two steps forward to latch eagerly onto Lucy’s hand and begin pulling her along. Lucy shot him a puzzled look, eyes darting between him and Lizzie. Clearly wondering what he intended on saying in her absence. 

Don’t worry, he pushed the thought to her gently. Something clicked behind Lucy’s eyes as she realized what this was all about. She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look.

Don’t be too hard on her.

I won’t. Promise.

She looked only half convinced, but let Ruby tug her away without complaint. Tommy waited until he could no longer hear the clatter of Ruby’s shoes on the floorboards before speaking.  

“Where’s Charlie?”

“In the library, finishing up his homework.” Lizzie took a step towards him. “Tommy, listen–”

“He overheard.”

She froze. “What?”

“He overheard what you said about Lucy to Polly and Linda. And then he got mad, and repeated it to her.”

Her lips parted, eyes widening. A look of mild horror settled on her features, and the sight of it brought Tommy an odd sense of relief. That was confirmation that she hadn’t been purposefully whispering poison into his children’s ears, then.

“Oh…” Lizzie said, throat flexing as she swallowed. “What did he say?” 

“He said that she’s just my whore. That everybody hates her.” The words tasted metallic as he released them, just hearing them again making him momentarily furious with her. But he breathed in deep through his nose and forced himself to remain calm. 

Lizzie looked away, down at the floor. “Shit. I’m sorry, Tommy. He was never meant to hear that.” She shifted from foot to foot, not really meeting his eyes. “At least it wasn’t that bad…”

“Not that bad!? He made Lucy cry!” 

Lizzie said nothing to that, still staring down at her shoes. Tommy shook his head, fishing into his pocket for his cigarettes. 

Wait.

He’d just swiped one across his lips when her words clicked, his face snapping up to bore his eyes into her.

“Fucking hell, what else have you said about her for that to be considered not bad!?”

Lizzie still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Are things between her and Charlie…?” she trailed off, pointedly not answering his question. 

Tommy studied her a moment more, lighter clicking to raise the flame to his cigarette before answering. “They’re fine. I managed to smooth things over. He was just having a tantrum; he didn’t really mean any of it. And he’s apologized.”

“Good.” The plain relief on Lizzie’s face had him considering her. For all her faults, she had always been understanding and respectful of just how much his children meant to Lucy. 

“You should never have said those things about her.” He took a long drag of his cigarette. “You need to apologize too.”

Her lips pressed together. “I’m sorry that he overheard that, Tommy, really. But…”

“But what?”

“But I’m not sorry for what I said.”  

His fingers tightened around his cigarette. “Why not?”

Her jaw clenched, chin raising. “Because it’s the truth, that’s why. Everybody despises her, Tommy. You don’t hear how they talk about her when they know you’re not listening. She’s nothing but your whore. Your mistress–”

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that–”

“I will talk about her anyway that I fucking please. I’ll do it out of the children’s earshot, but I won’t swallow my opinions just because it might hurt her feelings.”

“She hasn’t even done anything to you!”

“She’s fucking my husband!” Lizzie burst out. “She’s fucking my husband when she knows I’m not alright with it. You may have decided that she can do no wrong, but that doesn’t change the fact that she has chosen, over and over, for years, to hurt me by staying with you. I think that I ought to be allowed to be upset about that, and to say whatever I like about it when in the company of my friends and family.” 

“Lizzie–”

“I have let you two carry on as you have! I’ve let you do that, Tommy! Even though it kills me. I have…tried to be at least cordial with her. I know that I don’t always succeed, and I am sorry for that. And I am sorry that Charlie overheard. I’d never intend to turn the kids against her. But I have feelings, Tommy! I have to get them out somewhere. Better with Polly and Linda, rather than to her face.”

“Doesn’t seem to fucking work though, does it? All the hateful things that you say always get back to her eventually.”

“You know what? Fuck you, Tommy.” He saw some of the ice-cold contempt that had been blazing in her eyes when she left for Arthur’s days ago ignite once more. “I don’t want to hear it,” she started for the door to one of the sitting rooms. 

“Oi! We aren’t fucking finished here,” he moved to follow her, and she rounded on him.

“What more do you want!? I said I’ll fucking apologize! Now leave me the fuck alone! It’s the least you could do.”

“Why the hell did you come back then if you didn’t want to be around us, eh!?”

“Because your daughter kept asking for you,” she sneered furiously. “And I knew that sooner or later, you’d drag us back here anyway to have her close.” She took a step nearer to him. In her heels, she was taller than him, if only by an inch or two. “I didn’t come back because I’m no longer upset. Or because I forgive either of you. I don’t. I never will.”

“Forgive us for what, Lizzie!? For sticking to the agreement that the three of us made which you then decided to change your mind about?”

Her throat convulsed, and for just a moment, her eyes seemed to glimmer tearily. “We could have had an actual chance at being happy,” her voice suddenly dropped to a desolate whisper. “If she wasn’t here.”

He wanted to shake her. How could she not understand? He couldn’t be happy without Lucy.

“If you really believe that, then you don’t know me at all.”

Her bottom lip trembled, cracks beginning to form in the hatred molding to her face, giving way to heartbreak. 

Before he could say anything more, she whirled on her heel and stormed out the door.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie found Lucy sitting alone, head propped up on one hand while she considered the chess board before her. She was playing herself, Lizzie could see. Moving both the black and white pieces around the board. Trouble was curled in her lap, asleep. 

She hadn’t really spoken to Lucy since she and Tommy had arrived home. The kids had monopolized their attention for most of the evening; Ruby in particular was eager to play with Lucy and her father after going so long without seeing them. Lizzie had been fine with leaving them to it. In all honesty, she could use the break after having to manage Ruby mostly on her own. And after their conversation about what Charlie said to Lucy, she would rather have not been in the same room as Tommy anyway. 

He’d retreated into his office to take care of some business after they’d put the kids to bed, leaving her and Lucy to their own devices. 

Taking a tentative step forward, she forced herself to open her mouth. 

“Lucy?”

The redhead looked up, and Lizzie could see the wariness that immediately entered her face upon catching sight of her. It was a look that she saw crossing Lucy’s face more and more whenever they interacted. 

Lizzie supposed she couldn’t entirely blame her for that. 

She gestured to the chess board. “Do you…want someone to play with?”

Lucy blinked, that wariness still not quite leaving her face. “Sure.” She started to move the pieces back into their starting positions on the board while Lizzie took the seat across from her, examining the little carved pieces of black and white wood. Lucy had whittled and painted each one herself, along with the board. 

Once all the pieces were set up, she took hold of one of the white pawns on her side of the board, sliding it forward. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally forced herself to say the words when they were about halfway through the game. Most of her white pieces had been swept from the board by Lucy’s black ones. Not surprising. She had never taken to chess all that well. Usually, Lucy went easy on her. 

She felt Lucy’s large green eyes jerk upwards to stare into her face. 

“For what Charlie said. I didn’t…he wasn’t supposed to overhear that.”

Lucy looked back down at the board. She had one arm crossed over her chest, hand folded against the opposite bicep. Like she was holding an imaginary shield between them. “I figured.”

Lizzie nodded. At least Lucy’s opinion of her hadn’t sunk that low, then. “Still, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lucy kept her eyes focused on the pieces, moving her queen to take one of Lizzie’s bishops. “It worked itself all out. I’m sorry that Tommy got on your case about it.”

“He’s just protecting you.” She hated herself for being unable to wholly mask the bitterness that underlaid her words. A guilty look crossed Lucy’s face, her head dipping slightly and her shoulders drawing in as if bracing for a slap. On her next move, she pulled one of her bishops back, leaving her rook open for Lizzie to take with one of her knights. 

She wondered if Lucy had let her take the piece on purpose. 

“How were things at Arthur’s?” Lucy asked, clearly eager to change the subject. Lizzie hesitated. There were a lot of things that Linda had told her in confidence that she was not eager to share. Everyone knew that anything that was told to Lucy would make its way back to Tommy.

“Things aren’t good between him and Linda,” she finally settled on saying. 

“What’s she upset about now?”

Lizzie worried at her bottom lip. “Everything, really. Truth be told, going there wasn’t much of an improvement from being here.” She should have gone to Polly or Ada’s instead. But she had been afraid that both of them would try to talk her out of any ruminations she had about divorce. Linda, at the very least, had understood her feelings on that front. “Only difference was that I wasn’t the one doing the arguing.”

“Mm.” Lucy made a sound of sympathy, taking one of Lizzie’s knights with her remaining rook. “I am glad that you’re home.”

“You don’t have to lie.”

Lucy cocked her head. “I’m not. Look…I didn’t miss any of the fighting, but…the house feels empty without you and Ruby in it.” 

“We may not be here for very long.”

That wariness that had mostly melted away from Lucy’s face while they played returned. “What do you mean?”

Lizzie plucked up the little white envelope that she had set down in her lap while they played. She turned it over twice in her hands, examining her own looping handwriting of Tommy’s name scrawled in black ink on the back of it. Holding it between two fingers, like she would a cigarette, she held it out to Lucy. 

“Will you give him this for me?”

Lucy eyed the envelope as if Lizzie had just held out a hand grenade to her. She supposed in a way, that she had. She took it with her pale, lightly freckled fingers, handling the envelope gingerly while she examined it. 

“What…?”

“Linda and I talked a lot. We thought that writing down everything that we need to say would be better than actually trying to say it. She’s written one to Arthur. Well…technically I think that she’s written two. She hadn’t decided which one to give to him yet when I left.”

Lucy turned the envelope over in her hands, brows furrowed. “Lizzie, what’s in this letter?”

 She picked up one of the black rooks she’d taken, rolling it between her fingers. “Just make sure that he gets it, yeah?”

She could feel Lucy’s deep green gaze on her, could imagine the way that the irises shifted a little from side to side as they tried to decipher what was going on inside her head. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lucy nodded, slipping the envelope into the inner pocket of her suit jacket. Lizzie brought her bishop sliding across the board.

“Check.”

“I can send him to you tonight, if you’d like,” Lucy offered. Lizzie could only bring herself to look at her face for a fraction of a second before she had to look back at the chess pieces again. Anything to not have to stare at that sad, guilty look emblazoned across Lucy’s face. She shook her head. 

“I doubt he’s going to want to spend the night with me after he reads what’s in that letter.” 

Truth be told, a lot of the enjoyment from sleeping with Tommy had long since faded away. Physically, it was still good–the man was nothing if not very talented at what he did–but it was hard to ever fully enjoy herself when she knew that he would rather be with her. Lizzie could feel it, the disconnect between them a living, ever present thing in the spaces between them. Even when he was with her, in the most intimate of positions two people could be in, he wasn’t really with her. He always left all the important parts of himself in the other room, with Lucy.  

If only the little red head in front of her wasn’t around…

She shook the thought away. That wasn’t what she wanted. Not really. For all her faults, at least Lucy tried. Certainly more than Tommy ever did. It was her, who more often than not kept Lizzie company on nights like this one. When Tommy was too enthralled with his work to be bothered to pay her any mind.

In a way, it only made Lizzie more angry with her. It would have been so much easier to hate her if she had been cruel and unapologetic in her actions. 

For a time, at the beginning of her marriage to Tommy, Lizzie had hated her. She had hated her so bloody much, she nearly choked on it. But over time the feeling had…not quite faded, but scabbed over. It was hard to maintain hatred like that for so long. Especially when the person it was directed towards went out of her way to be so bloody nice and accommodating so much of the time. 

Sometimes it still returned, the scab ripping off for fresh blood and agony to flow forth. And with it, the poison inside her leaked out, boiling over to spill from her lips in the form of vile curses and words. Things she may have meant in the moment, but not later. Not after she’d gotten a leash back on the jealousy that raged in her heart. 

In those moments when the venom flowed forth, the looks that Lucy would give her, like that of a kicked animal, only served to make Lizzie hate her even more. Because how dare she make her feel guilty for hurting her? When she was the one who had hurt Lizzie first by stealing her husband. 

But can you really steal what was already yours? What was given freely? How could she say that Lucy had stolen Tommy from her, when he had never even been hers to begin with?

Her fury was directed at Tommy too, often even more so. She suspected that was by design, on his part. His attempt to shield Lucy from her wrath and the hurtful jabs that came with it as much as possible. Yet another expression of his oh so precious, undying love for her.  

Once she’d gotten it all out, the anger and resentment would scab over once more. It was in those moments that she grew as close as she could to accepting the arrangement between herself, her husband, and his lover. She and Lucy could even be considered something close to being friends.

And then they’d go through the entire cycle again. 

She wondered if the scab would ever fully heal. She hoped that someday it would.

What she would give, to be at peace with her life and her choices. To be content.

But she knew that a part of her, no matter how small, would always resent Lucy.   

“Do you mind if I also read it?” Lucy asked, drawing her from her thoughts. She’d moved her knight to counter Lizzie’s check on the chessboard. 

“That’s fine.” She knew it would likely make no difference what she wanted; Tommy would tell her its contents either way.

She moved one of her pawns a space up. 

Lucy moved her knight again. “Check.”

Lizzie moved her king, even though she could already see where the game was heading.

“You’re really thinking of leaving for good?”

She kept her gaze fixed on the chessboard, not wanting to meet Lucy’s analyzing eyes. “It depends on what he says about what’s in my letter.” 

There was a long pause, and she found herself wishing that Lucy would just move her queen and put an end to the whole bloody game.

“Lizzie, maybe if you just give things some time…it’s a madhouse right now, with the crash and Michael coming back…”

“I’ve been giving things time since the fucking wedding, Lucy. And he still hasn’t–” she bit down hard on the words before she could say them. He still hasn’t changed.

Lucy stared at her sadly. “You’re still hoping that someday he’ll choose you over me?”

“Just play your bloody turn, Lucy.”

She hesitated, and then slid the black queen across the board. “Checkmate.” Her hand retracted, going to fidget with the other in her lap. Trouble roused at the cease in being pet, raising her head with a questioning meow. “Do you want to play again?”

“No,” Lizzie rose from her chair. Divorce or not, she doubted she would have to wait long to be free of them. She had watched these past few years as Tommy slipped further and further out onto a precipice, his mind almost fully lost to his own ambition. And when he finally went over the edge, he’d take Lucy right along with him. She truly believed that he wouldn’t be alive within two years’ time.  

It startled her, a little, how the thought brought with it no sorrow or grief, but simply a feeling of deep, potent relief.  

“I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

That infuriating guilt was shining in Lucy’s eyes again. She had to bite down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at the sight of it. Despite everything, she had meant what she said to Tommy about trying to be cordial with Lucy. 

 “Lizzie, you know that if you ever wanted to, the three of us could…” Lucy trailed off, biting her lip. Not needing to finish the sentence for Lizzie to know what she was referring to. 

They’d made it clear that the offer was always open, if she wanted to share a bed with both of them again, rather than just Tommy. And she understood that, in a somewhat stunted way, Lucy’s offer was an attempt at comfort; at maybe even consolidation, for the situation that they’d found themselves in.  

“Not tonight, Lucy.”

She saw a flicker of disappointment cross Lucy’s features, but she merely nodded, clearly having expected the answer, not pushing it any further. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

She just got to the door before Lucy called for her again. “Lizzie.” She was still sitting at the chessboard, one hand trailing her fingertips across the golden rings she was wearing on the other hand she had resting on Trouble’s patchy black and orange fur. Her red-painted bottom lip was caught between her teeth. “Is there anything that I can do?”

Yes: Leave. And never come back. “No.” 

“But maybe–”

“Lucy,” she cut her off before she could say anymore, gesturing to the board. “Even when you go easy on me, it’s you who always wins.”

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[lethalchiralium]

Happiness [26]

chapter title: Burial Plot

a/n: i literally got the fucking writing worms the last few days. i have been non-stop. missus deserves everything because i say so and i love her. (i love you) 4.7k words

warnings: missus’s trauma and her reactions because of it. UNEDITED.

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It’s been at least two days, you were certain of that. There was a tiny window near the ceiling, shining light from dawn to dusk - the only light you were allowed while you sat in the cold basement, holding and taking care of a sick Mellie. You only slept for a few hours, wanting to listen and learn your captor’s patterns, which was what Simon always said to do.

One had heavy footsteps and didn’t do much, only went outside to piss and to smoke. Two liked to pace, he had lighter footsteps, he talked on the phone for at least twenty minutes every hour. Lloyd had loud footsteps, he was constantly talking to his henchmen or on the phone, the only time he wasn’t upstairs was when he came down to make sure you were still stuck with a miserable baby. Anger festered in your chest when you saw him, always bleeding through to the rest of your body.

The only route of escape you had was up the stairs and through the locked door. Then, you had no idea where to go from there.

Would it be better to follow the drive they take up to wherever you are? No, they could easily get in a car and grab you again. If there’s woods, you need to go into the woods.

You wiped at your face after you washed your hands in the sink of the tiny bathroom, it was nestled in the corner of the basement. It was getting darker in the basement, you had already changed Mellie again and tried to feed her but she refused. You were grateful that you were given more diapers than which you started, even if Lloyd handed them to you himself. You were more than desperate to hit him in the face, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. You gazed at yourself in the mirror, recognizing your face but not your eyes - fear had made its home there, terror a weight that has drowned many and you weren’t sure you were safe from that fate.

Footsteps above you again, it sounded like Lloyd. You moved out of the bathroom, the concrete beneath your feet was freezing to the touch but you barely acknowledged it, your eyes gazed upon the broken bookshelf beside the staircase. There was only two shelves, one broken and left inside of it. You’ve been looking at it during the day, thinking it may be loose enough to break free and be a weapon.

Creak, creak… click.

The sound of the lock on the basement door made you panic, you darted to your bed to pick up the sleeping Mellie - she barely stirred as you sat on the bed, holding her to your chest and watching your only exit. Your stomach knotted with anticipation, knowing Lloyd would be coming down to “chat” - to pry information about Simon out of you with a cigarette stained smile. Your hands shook, you were desperately gripping Mellie’s little onesie to try and stop it as Lloyd walked down the steps, his wickedly cruel painted on his face.

“Hello, sweethear’.”

A hand on your face made your eyes rip open, the roar in your throat grew louder and your weak arms instantly went to throw the touch off.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s-“

Your push was met with a grunt, “Get off me!”

You threw more of a struggle, you could hear thundering footsteps and you pushed harder. Fight, push him off, keep Lloyd away, away, away-

“Get her on her side-“

“I’m bloody tryin’, Price, she’s not exactly workin’ with me-“

A large hand pushed your hip down, your stomach pressed into the mattress and the same hand on your face cupped your cheek. Paralysing fear pulsed in your chest, your hands were wrenched behind your back. “Get off!” You tried to throw your elbows back, kick your legs, but another pair of hands held your legs down. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Darling, wake up, it’s me.”

All you could feel were burning hands, disgusting sweat against your face that were merely phantoms compared to this, but it was still terrifying. Your eyes screwed shut as if to hide from your attackers. This wasn’t something you could come back from, they’d tear your limb from limb and pluck the meat from your bones like the starved coyotes they were. Always staring, always wanting to poke, prod, and gnaw on any sliver of skin. “Please-“

Lloyd will kill you. He tried so hard, he’s trying again, he’ll do more than almost slit your throat in half, he’ll stab you, he’ll shoot you, he’ll-

“Watch it, Simon-“

Ice cold water splashed against your face and your eyes shot open, head twisted at an uncomfortable angle and all you could see was Gaz, kneeling beside your bed with a half empty glass of water in his hand. Pressure came from your back, your face, your legs, and you couldn’t move your head to look.

He leaned back on his legs, the sigh that escaped him sounded relieving. “She’s awake now.”

“Kyle?” The hands on your legs disappeared, the pressure on your back slid away, the hand on your cheek went from rough to soothing - it curled around your hairline and brushed the sweaty hairs back. You tilted your head a little to look back, a glimpse of blond hair entered your view. “Simon?”

“Right here.” So he’s the hand on your hair.

The water settled into the sheets before your face, the muscles in your body began to constrict and become almost brittle. The fight in your chest and mind was now long gone, a fleeting exposure to the normal fight or flight response. Fear nestled so deeply in your brain that it bled like a river when you were locked in that basement and nearly tortured. Muscles stunned into paralysis, tears flooded the plains of your cheeks. The nightmares kept getting more vivid, even worse each time, and you weren’t scared by the task force holding you down. Simon’s earned a myriad of scratches, you’ve punched Soap in your sleep, even cut Price’s face with your nails. Gaz was wise enough to be the one to wake you up, after many days of Simon doing it and you screamed so loud every time that the girls were terrified. Ice water was your idea, constraint was your husband’s - you didn’t blame him, the shock of the water would freak you out and you already feel horrible for the damage you’ve caused the family.

You’re already well aware of the exhaustion you bring too. Simon can’t leave you home alone anymore, the rest of the 141 sleep in the empty rooms in the basement just in case your husband needs help with you. Walking was difficult, eating hurt, your lungs out of breath at every turn, even thinking made you ache. He had to be nearly full-time care while he split his time up to take care of the girls, but his friends had stepped up there. It’s temporary, you kept telling yourself. You’d pay them back tenfold someday.

“Jesus, she got you good, man.”

“S’alright.” His gentle hand fled to your shoulder blades, shapes softly rubbed into them. “You alright, sweetheart?”

The sob escaped your lips before you knew it resided there, your eyes screwed shut as tears escaped. You couldn’t roll over to unpin your arm from your chest, your lungs couldn’t rise, and all you could see in your head was that room with the mold, the dirty sink, the bloody quilt, and the box you kept Mellie hidden in. Simon’s gentle rubs on your back did little to help, but it was something nonetheless. Nimble fingers tugged your hair from your face and curled it around your ear, soft words left his mouth as the sound of the bedroom door as it closed made you wince.

“It’s alright, love, you’re home.”

•••

He’s still breathing after you check for the hundredth time. A finger beneath Simon’s nose, his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt peacefully. He’s tired, you can see it in the way he’s grown sluggish the past few days. Your fingertips ghosted over the bruise on his cheek from where you hit him in your sleep, believing he was your kidnapper and attacker then trying to fight him off. His left hand was settled on his chest, his right arm nestled around you unconsciously. Peace was only afforded at night when you were awake and watching him, crying under the moonlight when you look at all the scratches and bruises you leave on his body. He never deserved this kind of cruelty; it was one you had vowed to protect him from. Yet, the same could be said about him to you.

Your cold hand cradled his jaw, your head finally rested against the pillow again. It’d taken so much of your energy to stay awake, to try and fight the nightmares off, but as you watched your husband sleep, you wondered if you could too.

Except, your bedroom door creaked open and your head snapped to look at it. The shadowy figure held the handle with one hand, the other arm held a shadowy lump. Your hackles relaxed, knowing just how tall your daughter was and you reached an arm down the side of your bed.

“Daddy?”

“It’s just me awake, baby. Come here.”

Winnie shuffled herself into your room, you could recognize the silhouette of her favorite teddy under her arm as she took your hand. You could barely make out her face, but the moonlight reflected off of her tears. Instantly turning on your side, your hand brushed them away.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

“You were yelling earlier.”

Your answer was immediate. “I just had a bad dream, Daddy took care of me.” An absent movement of your hand curled a lock of her hair around her ear. “I’m alright.”

She sniffled a little, her hand squeezed yours with urgency. “I had a bad dream too.”

Your heart sank, guilt began to gnaw again at your nearly empty insides. Soon it would have nothing left to digest. “C’mon, baby girl, lay up here with me.” You picked Winnie up with what strength you had left and pulled her into bed, nestled on your side. Simon needed his sleep, you decided, so you could handle this. Not that you have been lately, but you still could. Laying around and doing nothing for your children felt painful.

Winnie was quick to dig under the comforter and you nearly tucked her underneath it, and moved more towards Simon so she could have more space. Her hands gripped your loose shirt, her little face nestled on your shoulder and her bear uncomfortably shoved into your side.

“Did you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know… It was scary.”

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I’m sorry, baby. Was there a monster or was there-“

Her little hand reached up and touched your face, the numbness in your skin dissipated. “You were gone again, Mama, and-and I got really scared.” You met her eyes in the dim light, your hand brushed her tears away. Even now, you could see the true fear on your baby’s face.

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

A little cry came from her lips, “I thought you-you were gonna be like Mum Gr-Grace.”

The implosion of your heart in your stomach sounded like a thousand trains roaring right beside you, it made you nauseous. “No. No, baby, I’m not dying anytime soon. It seemed like it though, huh?”

A little nod.

“And I’m so sorry that it happened. Daddy did everything he could to keep us safe, but sometimes the bad guys are too sneaky. That’s how he got me and Mellie.”

“Uncle Koko got hurt.”

It wasn’t a good moment when König had come to see you in the hospital, his loud limp and hard time bending over. He had been shot three times in taking down a majority of the intruders and narrowly escaped death to try and protect you, which had failed. You had cried and apologized over and over, Simon squeezed your hand and the Colonel left swiftly. You cried for hours after that, sick to your stomach that he could have died for you - and it could have been in vain.

“I know. But he’s gonna be okay, just like me. I’m going to the therapist for help, you remember what a therapist is, right?”

“Yeah, they’re-they’re a doctor for your feelings.”

“Good job, duckling. And I’m getting better every day, even though I have those scary dreams too.” You took her chin in your grasp, “Winnie, I will be okay. It will take time, but I will be okay soon. Healing takes its time.”

“But… But what if Daddy gets taken too? What… What happens if Daddy can’t protect us anymore?”

“Well,” Your hand cradled her cheek as you rested your head against hers. “We have Uncle John, Soap, and Kyle. And if they can’t protect us anymore, I will. I protected your sister the same way I would protect you.”

“Then who protects you?”

“I will. Sometimes you don’t need anyone to protect you, but it’s nice to have it. It’s nice to know Daddy does everything he can.”

“But he…” Failed. Betrayed you. Left you to die.

“It was not Daddy’s fault, do you hear me? Get that out of your head. If he knew, it wouldn’t have happened.” You placed a kiss on her head. “You don’t need to think about that right now, Win. Your dream was just a dream, I’m home with you and Mellie and Daddy now. We can talk more about it in the morning, alright?”

Your daughter sniffled a little before she pulled her bear from between you, and tucked him into her elbow. “Promise?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your nose nestled in her curls. “I promise. Go to sleep, Daddy and I’ll protect you.” Winnie nodded a little before she moved to kiss your hand.

Sleep didn’t evade you then, your dreams were fleeting and unmemorable.

•••

Almost every surface in your house is covered in flowers. Wives of soldiers who served under your husband sent them, Hell, even a few of the nice crystal vases came from König’s wife, Karo, with a beautiful handwritten note expressing her relief in your return and dismissal of your guilt. My husband does everything for his friends and their families, you are and will be no exception. The card is kept on the side of the fridge with a magnet from London.

Speaking of plants, you have three extra houseplants that come and go at all hours of the day. You were grateful for the basement, you didn’t have to displace your children so the 141 could operate out of your home. Instead, they worked out of your way; always checking in on you and your daughters, which were often met with a wave and a simple “I’m fine.” You were sure Price hasn’t seen the inside of his own house since this whole ordeal started. There was never a moment where you were alone, at least two of the task force stayed home with you. Simon hadn’t been alone in days, you’re sure of it. Taking you to and from base for the military funded therapy they so graciously provided you, you suspected he had pulled many strings to get you in somewhere as quickly as possible. It’s a toll on him, he liked to be alone sometimes and there was nowhere he could hide - not that he wanted to, it seemed. He always had to be near you, touch you, something to make sure his presence was known.

You knew it well. It wasn’t hard to miss Simon’s lurking if you tried, nor was it easy to ignore his tired and injured face. Winnie found it entertaining to decorate his scratches and bruises with her Hello Kitty bandaids and kisses pressed to them, to which he smiled after every one. She’s five and smart, the biggest heart you’ve ever seen, and it almost makes you sick just how much like Simon she is. Kind, caring, expressive, and an overall love bug. It made you excited to see if Mellie would be the same, or the baby.

That’s right. The baby.

A back burner topic that you couldn’t think about too often since everything else felt more important than your pregnancy, like your life or Mellie’s. Your hand settled on the plush of your stomach below your belly button, unknown to Simon. He hasn’t mentioned anything since they ran tests in the hospital. Maybe ignoring it would make it easier if you miscarried, which you were almost sure of when you were in that basement. There was a lot of blood and you… the blur of it made your head hurt. Mellie cried, you… You believed the baby wasn’t definite, even when the doctor told you it was - with twelve weeks under your belt to prove it. There was no point for it to stay when it had every reason to leave, when you had every reason to say it wasn’t safe for your family anymore.

Someone had added newborn diapers and clothes to the weekly grocery run by Kyle, they were both quick to hide them away as if it would set you off. You found your gaze rarely moving from the show on the TV, kept warm by your blanket and Mellie. Exhaustion crept in every moment but you fought it, you could barely eat, barely exist without help. The only thing you were good for now was comforting your children and overthinking to Hell and back.

Mellie sniffled against your chest, you looked down at her to see her swiping at her little eye. You were quick to brush her hair back, her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at you, tears in her eyes. A kiss to her forehead and she hummed contently, her hand going back to holding her pacifier that she continued to suck on. Just a quick glance to you always calmed her down and any attempt for Simon to hold her ended with ear-piercing screams. Sometimes you felt bad for him, for everything he’s enduring for the sake of taking care of the family - but the little itch in the back of your mind couldn’t care at all. The hour of need he vowed to be there for came and went with no sign of him until it was completely over and you had saved yourself. Saved the child you had without him, then his friends had saved you. Not him. And that betrayal felt like your teeth that chewed your nails down to the quick - harsh and painful.

His hand is on your ankle, his thumb rubbed tiny circles through the blanket and a part of you refused to acknowledge the comfort it provided. At least just for this moment, your husband was in no way a traitor but in the dark recesses of your mind, he was enemy number one - the most wanted man, ready to be hanged for his crimes as if he had stolen the crown jewels. The piece of innocence you once had was now shattered into a million pieces and the irrational side of your brain only had one person to blame.

The rational divide in your body craved the sanctuary of his presence, knowing there was nothing he could do - stuck on base, running interrogations in Price’s stead. He didn’t even know anything had happened until Price called him from the hospital, which a part of you was angry at Price for. The blame shifted like branches in the wind, one could not exist without the other.

The peaceful side of your body craved normalcy. The broken and bleeding side wanted to break your hand in the wall and scream at them until your throat became raw.

The gentle rubbing on your ankle turned to a soft pat, your eyes refocused on your husband as he leaned forwards, peering at you. Your face began to heat as he stared at you, like he was able to claw his way into your head and hear every word you said. “What?”

“You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re staring at me.”

A sigh escaped your nose. “Didn’t mean to.”

His head tilted just a little, a couple strands of hair fell away from his face as he began to study you for just a moment. He sighed too, gently rubbed your leg and looked down at Mellie. “Not nauseous or anythin’?”

Your hand instinctively went to Mellie’s back, your fingers splayed out as if to make her look smaller. “No, Simon.”

His body minutely moved back, he sat up straight and wiped at his nose. “M’gonna go shower. Be right back.” Simon quickly stood and walked away, but not without gently patting your head as he did.

His footfalls were replaced by the sound of the front door closing and heavy boots, you craned your neck to see Soap appear. The paper bags he had were shoved onto the counter, he ripped his hood off of his head and wiped his eyes, blinked a few times, then looked at you. “It’s pishin’ a doon out there.” A slight tilt to your head and he sighed, “It’s raining very hard.”

“Why didn’t you say that then?”

“Ah did.” A chuckle left his lips as he peeled off his coat, placing it on the counter. “Ye 'n' yer Simon are too alike.”

“Why?”

Soap began to dig in the bags, “Ye both ask too many questions. Him more than ye, since I like ye more than ah do him.”

You hummed, your gaze moved down to Mellie again. She’d gotten bigger since the incident and her stay in the PICU; the cold didn’t hurt her much, thanks to the flannel you wrapped around her, as well as how fast Price and his small temporary team found her and then you. The image of the rock face still hadn’t left your nightmares and neither had Price’s terrified scream for a medic.

Sometimes it felt like he was your only friend in this birdcage that was once your home. The only one who understood because he was there, he wrapped up your injuries as they bled and oozed, he stared at what you did to your kidnapper. He saved your child’s life, he saved yours, and ferociously defended his decision to keep Simon in the dark. Price was your friend. Sometimes you hated him too.

A pan clanged against the stove and you flinched, Mellie grumbled a loud and angry, “Mama.”

You pulled the blanket farther up her back, even when it freed your freezing feet. “Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”

She shook her head, her button nose pressed awkwardly into your chest before she looked up at you. “Seep?”

You knew better than to get her to nap on you, a particular little thing she was. It took a lot of energy to push yourself up and stand, all while still holding Mellie. The tingling in your hands grew worse with every moment, so you needed to get her upstairs to bed before you could accidentally drop her.

No, you wouldn’t drop her. You can’t drop her. She can’t walk, she can’t do much of anything other than babble, she can’t…

You inhaled through your nose before breathing out. The pungent smell of the candle in the kitchen invaded your nostrils, it made you nearly gag at the smell you once loved. You remembered lighting it that night, you remembered…

“Are ye excited for the parties?”

A look to the kitchen was met with a smiling Soap, your eyebrows furrowed and your chin instantly tucked into Mellie’s hair. The bags were gone, he was starting to cook something.

“Parties?”

He held out a spatula towards you, pointed down towards your daughter. There was no look of confusion on his face, only excitement. “Mel’s birthday party and the baby shower. We’ve been workin’ on ‘em for the past few weeks-“

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice echoed from the stairs as he suddenly made his presence known, quickly shucking on an old black t-shirt.

Soap, the ever present beacon of excitement, chirped, “Hi, LT, I’m makin’ dinner-“

But you didn’t even look at Johnny when he spoke, your eyes bored holes into Simon’s wet hair. “I didn’t know you were throwing parties for that.”

Simon’s glare was harsh before it moved to you, softening immediately. “I was going to tell you when you were feelin’ better.”

Feeling better. Feeling better? For fuck’s sake. You’ve been ushered around this house like a 98-year-old grandma with a fall risk, you just minorly damaged your hands and one of your legs, you were fine. Why couldn’t they see you were fine? Price could. Price was your friend, he could see you were fine. Why couldn’t the rest of them? Why doesn’t Simon know? Why does it seem like he doesn’t know anything?

Your voice instantly rose, anger fire balled at him. “You know I don’t like surprises, Simon!” Does he? Does he know? What does he know?

He winced a little, his hand outstretched as he slowly walked towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be upset since you were-“

Think. Know. Understand. Notice. Does he do those things?

“That’s the problem.”

No.

“Come again?”

If he did, he’d have noticed the way you leaned back a little, half a step away as he grew closer. He would have noticed the way you held Mellie tighter, the way she squawked in annoyance as you did. He should have noticed the rage in you.

“I said, that is the problem.”

“What is?”

“You don’t think. You never think! Of course I’m not gonna get better with the lot of you hovering over me! I can do things on my own, I’m strong enough! I’ve been fine for weeks!”

Simon was a strong man, he didn't back down. That you knew, you expected his quick quip, “Your doctor said you should be takin’ it easy, love, that’s why-“

“I’m not weak, Simon! I’m passing all the tests with flying colors!” Spit flew from your mouth, your fingers gripped Mellie’s onesie like it was a lifeline.

You stared at Simon with wide eyes, ones that threatened tears. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the bruises you accidentally left him look so much worse in the light of the window. At any other moment, the sight of what you did to him would’ve made you look away. Now, you stared at him, made him look at you and what his broken promises have done to you.

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t need your fucking help! I didn’t before and I don’t now!”

“What the Hell do you mean by that?”

“You know what?” You looked towards Soap in the kitchen, who seemed to look frozen by your gaze, his eyes wide and shocked. “Thanks, Johnny, but I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going upstairs.”

“Sweetheart-“ His hand grabbed your wrist without warning, the one that held Mellie’s back. You almost instantly screeched as your brain went into shutdown - protect Mellie, protect her, protect her-

“Don’t touch me!” Simon ripped it from your wrist so quickly that it almost took you with him, but you kept your balance and held your squirming toddler closer to your chest. The air in your throat constricted, you struggled to breathe as you whimpered, “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Stop.”

Simon shrunk to a size that was too much like a man you didn’t know, a shadow of something inside his brain that made him seem like a frightened child. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t care at that moment. That little itch in the back of your mind became a gaping gash, and you could only see him as the man who let you get hurt. Who chose his work over your child’s life. Over yours. By God, you were allowed to be angry now. Your jaw clicked with how hard you pressed it together.

“Don’t.”