#i spend every day lately torn between do I need to go to hospital or am I just unfit and anxious

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Not to continue my recent trend of oversharing on tumblr dot com, but I am very much struggling not to feel like I'm doing everything in my entire life wrong at present

[tired-teacher-blog]

Title : My savior/ My demise

Chapters : (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

Status : Completed

Characters: Dabi/ fem reader (with a healing quirk)/ other mha characters' appearances

Genre : Angst/ fluff/ Romance/ NSFW in later chapters/ Tragidy/ contains manga spoilers

Summary : Your once calm and peaceful life takes a surprising turn to the unexpected when you meet the infamous villain Dabi. What will happen when you discover a side of him that no one else knows? A side he only shows when he's with you. Will your story have a happy ending?

Please do not read if you're a minor!!

Note : This is loosely based on the manga as I had to tweak some of the events to fit this plot. No major changes though, just a bit to include you in the story.

Explaining y/n's quirk: You have a healing power; you're able to extract people's pain, illnesses, injuries and everything in between with a simple touch. You're able to activate and release your quirk at will because using it for long periods of time without rest weakens you.

This chapter is NSFW/ +18/ for mature audience only!!!

Masterlist

Ao3

Previously

You were left there, for the second time with a mixture of emotions that you had no idea how to deal with.

He was so unfair.

Chapter 3 :

How long has it been? Two months? Maybe three? You couldn't tell anymore, neither did you want to bother counting. Your memories of him were getting more and more distant each day that passed.

Did he really come to see you that day? Did you sit on the river side and have dinner together? Did you actually.. kiss?

You brought your fingers to your lips as the thought crossed your mind, but you knew you couldn't afford clinging to the idea of "possibly" seeing him again. What were you really hoping for? Wasn't it for the best that he stopped showing? It was your chance to move on.

You shook your head and slapped your cheeks trying to get back to reality. It was time for dinner anyway so you had to get your ass off the couch, march to the kitchen and fix yourself something to eat before trying to get some sleep.

It was way past midnight when you finally decided to retreat to bed, and once again you were unable to sleep peacefully. You tossed and turned in every which way but to no avail. It was irritating and you couldn't spend another second in bed so you decided to watch some TV instead. Thankfully the next day would be your day off so staying up a little late wouldn't be a problem.

You absentmindedly switched through the channels until something caught your attention, it was breaking news of a villain attack near the hospital you worked at. You increased the volume and watched closely.

You were looking for him, you couldn't even deny it anymore. The scene was chaotic: villains and heroes going at it and holding nothing back, but where was he? And why were they fighting near the hospital? Were your coworkers at the night shift alright? Were the patients safe? Surely the heroes will never let anyone get hurt. But what about him? Why was he not there?

And without even thinking, you tossed your jacket over your sleepwear and rushed to the door.

You only managed to take a single step outside before bumping into a hard surface and nearly losing your balance. You looked up quickly and..

_"T.. Toya?"

_"Going somewhere?" He smiled weakly. He was beat up, injured and bleeding, clothes torn and struggling to stay on his feet.

_ "You're hurt!" Seeing him like that freaked you out.

He didn't answer you, and instead leaned his head on your shoulder. You froze for a second, but hugged him soon afterwards.. you missed him so much, but that could wait, you needed to treat his injuries first.

About an hour later, he was all bandaged up and resting on your couch.

_ "Thank you y/n, you saved my life." He sounded kind of sleepy. "You have an amazing quirk."

_ "What? N.. no, you don't need to thank me for that. And besides, using my quirk is a part of my job." You didn't mean to sound flustered, but you were never one to know how to hide your feelings, "you should get some rest, I'll lend you my b.. bed tonight, the couch is too small for you."

_ "I'm sorry." And you couldn't understand what he was apologizing for exactly, so you simply nodded and helped him to your bedroom.

You had too many questions and didn't even know where to start, he saw your confusion.

_ "You must be wondering how I got your address."

_ "Among other things. But that's not important right now, just go to sleep and we'll talk in the morning." You bade him goodnight and turned to leave the room when he clasped your wrist and stopped you from doing so.

_ "Can you stay with me? Your bed is big enough for the both of us."

_ "W.. what? What do you mean? How can we.. we don't really know each other that well and you're injured, we can't!"

_ "What were you thinking? I only asked you to sleep next to me instead of your tiny couch."

_ "I.. I know.. and I wasn't thinking anything weird!" You weren't convincing anyone, but he chose not to tease you about it.

You shrugged your jacket off and stood awkwardly.

_ "It's fine, I'll just turn to the other side so you don't have to be uncomfortable." He said as he rolled around facing the wall.

It took you a few minutes to slowly climb in bed and face the opposite side.

You never thought your boring night would get interesting. You were -understandably- unable to sleep, and your brain rewinding those recent events didn't help either.

The bed shifted under you, and your eyes widened.

_ "Hey y/n, is it alright for me to turn around?"

_ "Ye.. yeah, it's alright." You answered with your back still facing him.

You felt him moving closer to you until his warm breath was caressing your nape, and you tensed up.

_ "y/n, can I confess something?"

_ "W.. what?" You seemed unable to utter your words without stuttering.

_ "I can't get you out of my head, I thought that distancing myself from you would help but it didn't, so I kept coming back and watching you from afar. You deserve to be with someone as good as you are. I'm only a villain, and my faith is already sealed."

You couldn't listen to that anymore, so you jumped up and turned to face him, eyes welling up:

_ " Then why did you come back?!! I finally made my peace with not seeing you anymore! Aren't you a little cruel?! You show up after heavens know how long, to tell me this crap and disappear again?!" You sobbed your eyes out and hid your face behind your shaky hands.

Dabi said nothing, he couldn't say anything.

He moved even closer to you and hesitantly dragged you into his embrace. You stayed like that until you managed to calm yourself down.

_ "It's because I'm selfish. That's why I kept coming back." He finally answered your question.

You still had a lot to talk about, but you wanted something else at that moment.. you wanted him.

You pulled away placing your hands on his exposed chest and moved slowly to lock your lips with his. He didn't miss a beat and trailed his arms around you pulling you closer to him.

You sighed in both agony and delight, and felt his tongue gliding along your lower lip before sliding in your mouth to dance with your own.

Your hands moved from his chest to his neck and up to his hair where your fingers played with his locks. He groaned against your lips enjoying the new feeling, and pushed you on the bed before hovering over you. He looked at you hesitantly as if waiting for your permission to carry on, and you responded by smiling shyly.

He kissed your forehead and then your nose all the while sliding one hand under your shirt and moving the other downwards to guide your legs apart.

You were obedient and did precisely as he wished, because you had been dreaming about that moment for way too long.

You closed your eyes relishing the feeling of his rough hands roaming your body and his lips trailing soft kisses on your neck.

His fingers reached your breasts and you gasped in surprise when he suddenly flicked your nipples.

_ "I'll remove your shirt now, is that okay?" His raspy voice only added to your yearning.

You nodded and lifted your arms up impatiently waiting for the piece of garment to leave your body.

It was embarrassing, you weren't gonna lie, but it felt warm and nice, and right.

You pulled him back to you hungry for his lips to touch yours again, and you felt him exuding the same desire. He rolled his hips against yours agonizingly slow and you twitched at the feeling.

One of his hands traveled down to your shorts, and before doing anything, he asked:

_ "Are you sure about this? Do you wanna carry on?"

_ "Yes, yes I do. Please don't stop.." You practically whispered your response, but he heard you loud and clear, as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down together with your panties.

You were completely exposed underneath him, so you wrapped your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to take cover.

_ "You are beautiful y/n, I can't believe you're letting someone like me touch you." His icy blue eyes stared into your soul.

_ "No, don't say that. I already told you last time we met, I see more in you than a mere villain, so much more. Even if you've done unspeakable things."

_ "You are the only person who has ever looked at me without flinching or running away." He seemed sad and it broke your heart.

The only thing you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and pull him gently to place a kiss on his cheek. You lingered there for a moment until you heard him chuckle.

_ "You are something else y/n."

You said nothing, and simply let your head fall back on the bed sheets smiling brightly at him.

He sat up unbuckling his belt and removing his pants along with his boxers.

You were both completely naked except for the newly applied bandages on his chest.

You gently traced your finger tips along his scarred skin.

_ "Does it bother you?" He asked while searching for any hint of hesitation in your expressions.. He found none:

_ "No it doesn't, but it hurts me to know you're in constant pain."

He didn't answer, instead he pecked your lips and moved down your neck to leave a trail of wet kisses until he reached your breasts where he licked your nipples one by one elucidating a quiver from you. He smirked at your reaction, and you could feel his hands moving down your body to stop at your hips, his kisses too carried on downwards covering every inch of your tummy.

You closed your eyes and ran your fingers through his hair.

A moan escaped your lips when you felt his tongue teasing your clit and your fingers tightened their hold on his locks:

_ "W.. wait.. Toya, aaahhh not there."

_ "What's wrong gorgeous? Are you embarrassed?" He teased you before placing gentle kisses on your thighs.

You reached for the pillow desperately seeking to cover your face but he was faster, he pinned your arms over your head and gazed at you with half lidded eyes:

_ "No y/n, let me look at your face, I wanna see your expressions change when I touch you." He whispered before sliding a finger between your folds and moving it in circular motions, all the while studying your expressions.

You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lower lip to prevent the whimper threatening to come out of your mouth. It was embarrassing enough and you didn't want to add weird noises to the mix.

That didn't seem to please Dabi, he wanted you to let everything out, so he slid his finger inside you and kept rubbing you from within.

That seemed to do the trick; your eyes flung open and a whine escaped your lips.

_ "uhhh.. Toya please, if you keep doing that.. I can't.." You were unable to form a coherent sentence, but he knew what you meant.

_ "Go ahead angel, don't hold back." He whispered in your ear before sucking a bright red mark right above your collarbone.

You started squirming underneath him and he felt you tightening around his finger before fluttering uncontrollably and finally falling limp.

He smiled watching your heaving chest and your flushed face:

_ "Tired already? Do you wanna stop?"

_ "No, I just need a moment." You answered him while still struggling to catch your breath.

He kissed your temple, and then your cheek before caressing your lips with his and whispering against them:

_ "Whenever you're ready gorgeous."

_ "I'm ready, and I want to do something for you."

You responded and moved your hand down to his hard cock encircling it with your fingers.

He was startled, so you took advantage of the situation and pushed him on his back before settling yourself between his legs and taking his dick in your hand again. You were surprised at your boldness, this is something you have never done before, but you were strangely okay with it.

You looked up one last time before slowly pushing your head down on him. You felt his fingers running through your hair and you heard a groan escaping his throat. You felt confident so you tried to take a little more of him in your mouth, but it was hard for you and you ended up gagging.

He immediately lifted you up to see if you were alright:

_ " Hey, hey it's okay you don't have to do this, you're obviously not used to it."

_ "I'm fine I can do it." You sounded like stubborn kid.

_ "alright but take it easy." He sounded amused and you blushed.

You gathered your courage one more time and tried again, you went slowly at first and used your hands to stroke the part your mouth couldn't reach. You didn't know if you were doing good or not, so you looked up at him searching for a reaction.

You almost bit down on him in surprise; his eyes were blurred with lust, his lips parted and his chest heaving. He smirked when he saw your expressions:

_ "You're doing good baby, your mouth feels amazing."

His words motivated you to do more, so you used your tongue to fondle the tip.

_ "Stop stop stop!" He urged while lifting you up and guiding you to him.

_ "Did I do it wrong? Did you not like it?" You were disappointed.

_ "No baby that's not it! It's quite the opposite, I liked it so much that I was about to orgasm just now, but I didn't want that to happen just yet."

You understood exactly what he meant, and you blushed at the insinuation.

_ "Ye.. yes okay, but umm.. you're injured, so.. how, unless.. I mean I can, if you want to.. I will.."

You made absolutely no sense and you were shocked that he could crack your code:

_ "You wanna ride me? I'd love that."

He sat up leaning his back against the headboard and pulled you on top of him.

You steadied yourself by placing both hands on his shoulders, and he grabbed your hips guiding you down his length.

You pushed yourself down slowly trying to adjust to his size, and he didn't rush you.

His fingers stroked your sides, silently encouraging you to keep going. It took you a while to finally take him all in.

You sighed and placed your head on his shoulder. He traced your back gently and kissed your neck before whispering in your ear:

_ "Whenever you're ready angel."

You lifted your hips up and pushed down again moaning his name loudly in the process.

You picked up the pace after a few slow thrusts and he helped you by effortlessly moving you up and down his dick. Your whimpers filled the room as he kept rubbing that sweet spot inside of you.

You leaned back arching and allowed him to take over.

Your bouncing boobs enticed him and he latched onto them licking and sucking and biting. All you could do was entangling your fingers in his hair and cry out his name. You were so close and so was he.

His hand traveled down to your clit where he teased you mercilessly. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down on his dick as you finally climaxed. You slumped over his chest trying to catch your breath.

He pulled out of you and gave himself a few pumps before cumming all over your sheets.

He leaned back and brought you in with him.

_ "Don't leave me again, please." You finally managed to speak.

_ "I promise you I won't. I left the mission so I could come see you didn't I?"

You didn't believe him entirely, he had always left you behind, but you wanted to trust him this time.

You hugged him closer and allowed your eyes to finally close. It's been a long time since you had a good night sleep.

Will you be here in the morning?

You didn't know when you dozed off, but when you opened your eyes you were fresh and clean and you weren't by yourself, he was there too, hugging you close same as the night before.

You smiled and kissed him on the lips careful not to wake him up.

He didn't leave, he kept his promise.

(To be continued...)

[dead-fandom-imagines]

For real, what would nacho do if he had a s/o who tended his wounds (like in that episode he was shot in) what would reader do? How would he feel to know someone cares for him that deeply?

I mean, given the fact he’s been shot, there’s only so much untrained civilians can do. I’m sure you can try your hardest to ease those pains and get him back on his feet. In that episode, we do see him getting “fixed up” with a couple of stitches and bandages to the point where he wouldn’t need to go to the hospital, but it doesn’t mean it’s any better. 

He would try to persuade you he’s fine, when he’s clearly not. Skin as white as paper, that sickly green tint to his cheeks glowing in the light and emphasized by the New Mexico sun, how those bandages puffed underneath those wrinkle-free shirts and clung to those tightly stitched wounds with every breath.

Ignacio would do his best to assure you he’s okay. Despite you being able to hear his labored breathing and see those stiff movements late at night, the painkillers dwindling with every passing hour, how he spends those moments in the bathroom every so carefully pouring rubbing alcohol on his chest to prevent infections with the slice of air being sucked through his clenched teeth. He’s okay, really, and it seems he’s trying to convince himself as the days go by.

Eventually, with enough pressure, I’m sure you could convince him to let you help. He’s not as cocky and defiant as some of the other characters, allowing him to showcase his true self around those he really trusts. He’s a little bit terrified, the façade of a deadly cartel member chipping away as his fingers settle along the string of stitches. He knows he could have died, how he bled on that hot tar with the sand settling on his back, his head soaked in red, his shirts torn and left in tatters from the storm of bullets that had rained on him. 

You try not to notice the wobbly lines of where the needle pierced into his chest. The very places you once left loving kisses  had now been coated with dried blood and scars that would never quite heal. The shakiness of your own hand matching his heavy breathing while you washed those wounds with the lightest touch you can conjure. 

The two of you would fear for the future as he clings to your fingers, giving you a lightly pressed kiss on your knuckles. A whisper of a thank you in your skin as the sun faded into night. 

He knows it’s hard to find someone he can trust, between the Salamanca family, Fring, the Don, he knows he can always come back to you.

Your his home, his comfort, his safety, and he can’t imagine being anywhere else in a time like this. 

[6sakusa]

‘8 hours’ part 2, suna rintarō.

a/n : here’s part two of 8 hours since it was highly requested <33

warnings: angst, implications of toxic relationship, vomiting.

part 3

your eyes glazed over your phone in the dead of the night as you heard the familiar buzzing sound ring throughout the room, forcing your eyes open. you weren’t exactly sleeping and you hadn’t been for the past two weeks since you had walked out on your now ex-boyfriend suna rintarō. you’d often found yourself hoping- no, praying that he was doing okay, that he wouldn’t be missing you too much and that he was holding up well. but night after night you’d find that this wasn’t the case as he’d consistently spam text or call your phone. and day after day you would ignore his messages, never bothering to call back.

this time they read ‘please talk to me, i just want to hear your voice one more time.’ and you could swear you heard your heart break in your chest. you hated not being around suna, not being able to bathe in his warmth as he pulled you closer against the bed. not being able to pester him into doing his makeup out of pure entertainment. not having him teach you how to play call of duty on his ps4. not being able to feel his lips against yours. not being able to run your fingers through his hair. all things considered you were sure that hell existed, because you were living in it.

your stomach ached dully as you struggled to swallow the lump in your throat, fighting the urge to pick up the phone and tell him every single emotion going through your head right now. how much you loved him and how badly you missed him. but alas, you knew what was better for the two of you to be apart even though the distance made you feel like you were splitting in two, it was as if one half of your soul had been torn away from you leaving a lifeless void, an abyss that was so wide you were sure it would never be filled.

you sighed grabbing your phone, biting down on your lip as you clicked down on your now ex-boyfriends contact. your breath hitched as your eyes fixated on the block button, your fingers visibly hesitating as you knew this would truly mean the end as you reminisced on your relationship with the male.

two years ago.

“here, this is the drink you like right?” suna approached you, the both of you had gone shopping in the mall after school together. his excuse was he needed to buy new kneepads and didn’t want to go alone but truly he was asking you to spend some quality time together. even though the two of you had been dating since your second year of high school and you were here with him, in your third, he still remained hesitant in expressing his feelings. this meant that you would usually initiate romance including dates.

you turned to him with a smile, inspecting the contents of the beverage as you realised he’d memorised your favourite starbucks order and you couldn’t help but chuckle along with your words of thank you. “what’s so funny?” he deadpanned knowing that you were mocking him for being some what sappy, he didn’t mind though. the truth was he was very sappy and very in love with you, regardless of if he would openly admit it or not.

“you’re just so cute rin.” you leaned in wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling as his face visibly flustered a light shade of pink. in all honesty, it wasn’t that he was necessarily nervous around you, he was more starstruck. everytime you did the littlest things he couldn’t believe that you were his. often he had wondered how he’d gotten so lucky to find you, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen with a personality fit for his own and a shared sense of humour and interests. you were his whole world.

in a desperate attempt to divert the attention off of him he turned to peer into the window of the shop you were looking into before he had arrived. “do you like them?” he was referring to the variation of rings on display with prices that ranged from one hundred to seven thousand. some were decorated with different types of crystals and rocks and even diamonds which drove the price up by a mile. “they’re beautiful.” you whispered as your eyes glazed over the collection.

“i’ll get you one someday when i marry you.” the words slipped out of his mouth. it wasn’t his intention to think outloud but when he was around you it was almost as if he couldn’t function properly. every aspect of you was just so breathtaking to him and he couldn’t even coordinate himself properly.

you flaunted one of the biggest smiles he’d ever seen from you as you registered his words, turning to face him you brought him into an embrace so full of love that suna could feel your very emotions in that moment.

“promise me.” your voice was muffled against the fabric against his chest but he heard those two words distinctly as ever. “i promise i’ll buy one.” he chuckled against your hair, marvelling in the feeling of every strand that went between his fingers as he memorised the name of the store ‘lacrimosa’. “no, that’s not what i meant.” you pulled away, the atmosphere around the two of you growing more serious as you looked him in the eye.

“promise me you’ll marry me.”

“i promise.”

tears brimmed in your eyes at the memory, the strings of your heart were being toyed with every single time you saw his face in your mind. you weren’t sure which one of you had broke the promise, was it him for driving you away out of neglect or was it you for finally ending things? it wasn’t something that you wanted to ponder over but you couldn’t help but let your mind run wild.

you gritted your teeth, attempting to knock the thoughs out of your mind. your stomach began to twist and you grew nauseous contemplating on how the rest of your life would be without the boy you’d been in a relationship with for three years. you were sure he’d be losing his mind if he could see you now, legs weak as you ran to the bathroom, one arm clutching your stomach as the other held up your hair, body growing limp as you were sprawled out over your sink, violently vomiting with an aching throat.

this was probably the worst time to be alone, tears pricked your eyes as you wished someone, anyone.. suna could be here right now. and your wishes were granted, perhaps it wasn’t the particular person you wanted but your neighbor knocking on your door after hearing your struggle was sufficient enough for you.

you’d known her ever since you’d moved in as she greeted you with a freshly baked tray of cookies and her entire life story accompanied by a late night glass of wine. and her friend status was paying off right now as she barged into your apartment after you hadn’t replied, unable to find the strength to, if only you could voice it you could, how much you appreciated your neighbor akari suzuki.

“y/n? are you in here?” she rushed into your bedroom but was met with it empty and her wondering if she was just hearing things. but surely you wouldn’t leave your front door unlocked if you weren’t home? you weren’t usually forgetful but then again your area did have a low crime rate so it wasn’t a necessity per say. however she still contemplated over the different things that could’ve got you so distracted that you’d forget such a simplistic task.

she turned the corner of your corridor bursting into your bathroom as your eyes followed her lazily, her jaw dropped at the sight of you. “y/n whats going on? are you okay?” she asked before glancing at your sink and the realisation of how silly that question was slapped her hard and fast in the face. “oh my god.” she rushed to your side, pulling you backwards so you could pour your weight onto her instead of struggling to stay upright.

“can you walk? come, i’ll take you to the hospital.” she panicked, stabilising your body with hers at your lack of responses. even though you could hear her talking her voice was just so muffled in your mind, you couldn’t distinctly understand what she was saying, and at this point you were barely on grips with reality. but one thing you did understand is how much you appreciated akari indeed.

a/n: heYY my loves <3 originally i hadn’t necessarily planned to write a part two for this piece, but since you guys wanted one i have delivered. now there’s definitely going to be more than two parts and i’m kinda considering turning this into a mini series but i’m not sure yet.

[sassyhobbits]

16. "I can't believe you're making snow angels at a time like this!"

and here we have the ONS christmas special!! my last xmas fic this season and i hope you all enjoy! have a great holidays everyone!! <3

~~~

Aelin Galathynius loved Yulemas.

She loved the smells, the sights, the foods. She relished in spending time with her closest family and friends, giving them gifts she knew would make their faces light up. She loved laying by the fire and reminiscing.

This was Aelin's third Yulemas with Rowan. She fell more in love with her husband everyday, and always enjoyed spending the holiday with him. The only thing that she could have wished for this year was that their daughter had decided to join them.

Aelin was heavily pregnant. Their daughter was about a week late and Aelin wanted her out, out, out already. It wasn’t only that her feet were always swollen or her back ached constantly, but also that Rowan had become terribly overbearing. There wasn't a single thing Aelin tried to do that her husband didn't attempt to do for her before she could. At the beginning of her pregnancy, she enjoyed it. She liked when Rowan would grab the remote or get out of bed to fetch her slippers if she asked. But by now, it was beginning to lose its charm.

It was Yulemas eve. The palace was filled with their friends and family. They had even invited some of Rowan’s cousins to Orynth. Arlene and Isolde were excited to enjoy their first northern Yulemas. 

They had all spent a few hours lounging in the parlor, indulging in wine and other spiced holiday drinks. Aelin sipped on a hot chocolate, cuddled into Rowan’s side, his hand a steady weight on her belly. It had all been wonderful, but after a while Aelin began to feel a bit warm with the fire and the bodies stuffing the cozy parlor

"Hey, Ro?" she whispered to her husband.

"What is it, Fireheart?"

"Will you take a walk with me?"

He smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

He helped her off the couch, grabbing her boots and her coat and helping her slip them on. No one noticed when they ducked out of the parlor, walking down the halls towards the entrance to the gardens. 

They had become a wintry wonderland in the recent days, covered in a fresh blanket of soft snow. The night was silent, the sky clear and beautiful. Aelin held Rowan’s arm tightly as they meandered slowly over the snowy path. 

Suddenly, Aelin hissed in discomfort, placing a hand over her huge stomach as their baby girl fussed.

“Is everything alright?” Rowan asked, brows knitted in concern.

“Fine,” Aelin assured him, not wanting him to go full mother hen mode. “She’s just making herself comfortable, apparently.” 

Her husband sighed heavily. “It seems she likes it in there.”

“Well, it’s cold as hell out here so I don’t blame her.”

Rowan released a bark of laughter. “I was hoping she’d be with us by now.”

“Me too.” Aelin pouted down at her belly. “I had some adorable little Yulemas outfits for her.”

“I know you did, love.”

They continued their trek through the gardens, admiring the lights that had been strung up and other holiday decorations. Aelin always enjoyed decorating the palace. It was one of her favorite parts of the season. 

The princess was just about to suggest they go back inside when she felt something strange. A sensation she had never endured before; a little pop followed by something decidedly wet between her legs. Aelin didn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize what, exactly, that feeling was.

"Rowan?" she rasped, tightening her grip on her husband's arm.

"Hm?"

"My water just broke."

"Your water just what-?!"

Rowan’s head whipped towards her, eyes wide in shock. In his bewilderment, her normally graceful husband wasn't watching where he was going, stepping on a slick piece of eyes. His feet flew out from under him, tumbling back into a fresh bank of snow.

Despite herself, Aelin released a laugh. Rowan leaned his head upwards, flakes scattered in his slicer hair, arms spread on either side of him like a star.

“I can’t believe you’re making snow angels at a time like this!” the princess cried playfully. “We’re having a baby!”

Rowan blinked once, a slow smile spreading on his lips. “We’re having a baby,” he repeated in a whisper. “We’re having our baby!”

Aelin could only grin.

…

It didn’t take long to head back inside and gather the things they needed to make the trip to the hospital. Aelin had thought Rowan was being ridiculous earlier, but it was nothing compared to his actions now. He was everywhere at once, not allowing her to pick up anything or even open a door for herself. Yet, Aelin was too nervous to even really scold him about it. 

She and Rowan were already getting into a car in the garage by the time they let their other friends and family know what was happening. Before she knew it, they were on the way to the hospital.

Aelin knew that she likely still had a fair share of time before things would get serious, but her mother had faced many complications when giving birth to her. Aelin’s entire family had agreed to play it safe. 

There was a private, secure suite waiting for Aelin by the time they pulled up to the hospital. She was only just starting to feel the first of her contractions when she slipped into the shapeless hospital gown. 

Aelin spent a few hours speaking with nurses and doctors, getting poked and prodded and questioned. She spoke with her friends and family over the phone, convinced Rowan to read to her even though her husband seemed much more nervous than she did. 

As the night wore on, Aelin’s contractions grew stronger and more frequent. A little after one in the morning, the doctor came in and informed her that it was time to start pushing. It was then that Aelin felt those first twinges of fear. 

“Rowan?” Aelin squeaked, looking to her husband who was seated beside her.

He reached out, brushing a strand of her hair from her sweaty forehead. “What is it, Fireheart?”

“I’m scared.”

His lips tightened a fraction of an inch, grabbing her hand and giving it a firm squeeze. She could see in his eyes that he was frightened too, but he would be strong. Strong for both of them, and the little girl they were waiting to meet. He leaned close and kissed her flushed forehead. 

“I’ll be here every step of the way, Aelin. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

…

The birthing process wasn’t easy, though no one was expecting it to be. Aelin felt as though she was being torn in two, her throat raw from screaming in pain. Even through the haze of the agony, she could tell that Rowan was beyond stressed and seeing her like this was likely shaving years off his life. It was a good thing his hair was already silver, because this experience probably would have turned his hair gray anyway. 

Still, he was nothing but supportive: whispering words of encouragement, letting her grip his hand as tightly as she needed, dabbing her sweaty forehead with a cool cloth. 

It was the wee hours of Yulemas morning, the sky turning a buttery yellow as the sun rose above the jagged peaks of the Staghorns. Aelin was beyond exhausted. She had been pushing and screaming for hours. All she wanted to do was sleep.

A ragged cry tore from her throat before slumping back on to her pile of pillows, tears streaming down her cheeks. 

“I’m so tired,” she sobbed, voice hoarse and crackling. “Ro, I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, love. You’re doing so good. You’re almost there.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Yes you can, Aelin.” Rowan squeezed her hand tightly. “You’re the strongest person I know. Just a little bit longer. I know you can do it.”

“He’s right, princess,” the doctor said from his position between her legs. “Your daughter’s nearly here. Just one more big push. Can you do that for me?”

Aelin clenched her jaw and nodded. She had survived much worse than this. She could do anything. The princess sucked down one last deep, bracing breath, preparing herself before giving a mighty push.

Aelin wailed as she put everything she had in her into this last push, sure she must have been breaking the bones in Rowan’s hand with how hard she was gripping it. 

And, where one cry ended, another began.

A shrill shriek that did not come from Aelin filled the air just as her own voice failed her. Her strength left her body, collapsing against the pillows just as she saw the doctor hand a screaming, bloody, wiggling thing to the nurse.

Her daughter. That was her daughter. 

Aelin forced herself to sit up straighter as the nurses carried a bundle of pink blankets towards her before carefully placing it into her arms.

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing as Aelin held her daughter in her arms for the first time. Her face was red, and her little face was pinched up as she cried, but she was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

“Hi,” Aelin rasped, giving another tiny sob. “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Rowan was a warm presence at her side, looking down at his daughter in wonder. “She’s beautiful. She’s perfect.”

“I’m so in love already it doesn’t feel possible.”

The doctor smiled at the little family before them. “Have you picked out a name for the little princess yet?”

Aelin nodded, tracing the shape of her daughter’s nose. “Eliora. Her name is Eliora.”

The doctors and nurses took a few steps back, giving them a bit of privacy as they grew acquainted with one another. 

“Happy Yulemas, Eliora,” Rowan whispered to the newborn. 

“It is Yulemas, isn’t it?” Aelin asked. She had lost track of time during the birthing process. “It looks like we’re gonna have to wait to do presents.”

“No offence, Fireheart, but I don’t think you can out do yourself now.” He ran his fingers over Eliora’s silvery-blonde hair. “This is the best Yulemas gift I’ve ever could have asked for. Thank you. I love you. I love you both so much.”

Aelin looked up, beaming and kissing Rowan quickly, scooting over so he could sit beside her on the hospital bed. He perched himself on the corner, tucking Aelin under his arm and holding both her and their daughter close.

Now Aelin Galathynius had another reason to love Yulemas.

[some-dr-writings]

Nekomaru, Kazuichi and Gundham’s Tsundere S/O got into a fight

Nekomaru Nidai:

·       “Y/N!?” “Ah, it’s you. I’m surprised I didn’t hear you already. Surprised you weren’t talking as you always are.” You huffed, glancing away from your boyfriend, wiping blood off the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. You sat on the ground, leaning against the back wall of the building. Your face was covered in bruises, and your clothes were completely disheveled, scuffed, slightly torn, with smudges of dirt smeared across it. Nekomaru kneeled before you, gently yet firmly he held your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, just barely tilting our head. “Sloppy, how did they get this kind of damage on you? Did you lose focus?” “Tch, you should see the other guy. I still got in a few hits. Good ones too.” “… Hmm, come. I’ll patch you up and we’ll strategize! I’ll even give you a special variation of ‘IT’!”

·       “It’s not like you to get into fights like this.” You simply watched; eyes unwavering from Nekomaru as he wrapped a small ice pack around one of your many bruises that littered your body. “Are you feeling ill? Even the smallest of bugs can affect an athletes’ judgement! Even sleeping in slightly later can be a sign! Though… I don’t see anything wrong with you.” Then his gaze met yours. “It’s mental.” You glanced away signaling to Nekomaru that he had hit the nail on the head. You were speaking a lot less than usual, just a few snarky comments. Before he could get a read on what it was you mumbled something. “What? If you’re going to say something, say it with conviction! No holding back!” He then roared, likely being heard for miles around as evidenced by your ringing ears and the sight of many flocks of birds suddenly taking flight, far beyond the window and even the walls that surrounded the school. “Those assholes were talking shit about you! Spewing insults and rumors they had no idea of!” “So, they took your temper to their advantage, no wonder you’re so beaten up.” “I’m not a fighter so it doesn’t fuckin’ matter anyway!”

·       Standing up Nekomaru smiled, placing the supplies back into the first-aid kit. You flinched, feeling the heat raising to your cheeks. “I-it wasn’t for your sake, dumb butt! As if I’d let some trash speak poorly on anything related to me. As if I’d date anyone less than perfection.” Then your cheeks completely flushed red as you froze for a moment before suddenly abruptly standing up. “A-any way! I’m… Going… somewhere! T-TO TOWN! TRAINING, PARKOUR! DON’T WAIT UP!” Before you could dash out the room you felt a hand place itself on your shoulder, his other hand cupping your cheek, turning you to face him. He then smirked, leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you too. But!” He then took a step back. “If you’re going out to sweat out your emotions, you’ll need your manager there, so I’m coming along too!” “O-okay, fine whatever, you can come along, I guess…”

·       Nekomaru couldn’t help but adore seeing that ever darkening blush, as you tried hiding your face, concealing that wobbly smile, even if you were absolutely failing to do so at this point. No matter what, he’s was going to be by your side, supporting you however he could, whether you wanted it or not! You were his partner, and he was determined for you to keep being amazing, to surpass him in every way!

    Kazuichi Soda:

·       “Hmm? Two thirteen!? Where did the time go!?” Kazuichi nervously ran a hand through his hair, seeing how early it was, meaning he had worked nonstop through the night. He quickly set about packing his tools and other supplies, fretting about upsetting you by messing up his sleep schedule… again. He especially felt guilty for how much effort you put into helping him live a little healthier and not spend so much of his time tinkering that he keels over from malnutrition or lack of sunlight.

·       Rushing to the house he tripped over himself when dashing out of his workshop, crashing into a wall in the process. It was… a rather chaotic crash, hearing a deep, resonating crack through his head. He winced feeling his nose in great pain, something cascade from his nostrils. He also noticed how he suddenly couldn’t smell anything; not the rain, or metal, not even motor oil though he had gone nose blind to it long ago. “Oh, shoot.” The guilt only piling on, now he was going to worry you senseless. This was just… fan-freaking-tastict.

·       The very least he could do was not wake you so early in the morning. Though trying to hide this would only worry you more so he’d tell you about what happened after you had woken up. As quietly as he could Kazuichi slinked through the house, tiptoeing into the master bathroom.

·       Suddenly a pair of ear splitting screams pierced through the air. “Kazu-baby!?” “Babe!? WHY ARE YOU BLOODY!?” “WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR FACE WAS RAN OVER BY A TRUCK!?” The last thing Kazuichi expected to see when turning on the bathroom light was you in the room when it was dark. You both were panicking, you holding Kazuichi’s face, examining his bloodied nose, as Kazuichi held your face noticing how strangely your nose matched his with that red gushing from it. You also had a lot of cuts and bruises riddled in your flesh to match it.

·       After fretting over one another, making sure any and all wounds were patched up, you and he sat side by side on the end of the bed. “What happened to you!?” “Well…” You sighed, your features seeming to grow heaver at the mere thought of whatever happened, sending a deep pain to shoot through your husband’s heart. “I was out for my nightly jog. On my way back home though I was mugged. I managed to escape but this person thought it was a good idea to just keep going after me, so I kept just jogging for a while, even after I thought I lost them, I… didn’t want to lead them home so I just kept going and going, and… I… had been through enough tonight and I didn’t want to deal with the police so I… I skipped going to the hospital. But I didn’t want to wake you up, so I decided to try patching myself up with the lights off.” “Y/N!” You hated seeing the worry in Kazuichi expression, so you immediately took his hands, squeezing them tightly, interlacing your fingers together. “B-but I’m okay! I swear! But what about you? I thought you’d be in bed by now.” “… Uh… I was working, realized how late it was and tripped into a wall when rushing back into the house-“ “Oh. My. Goodness. I’ve married an idiot!” “But what you went through was more important! How are you feeling? Are you sure you’re alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?” “No, no, I’m fine! But Kazu-baby, you need sleep if you smashed into a wall with enough force to break your nose! Come on, let’s just get to bed.”

·       Neither of you got to bed that night, too worried about the other to do so. “Hey, Babe… Want to just cuddle and watch a movie? I…” “… I could really use that tonight. And maybe we could just have a cat nap in the day.” “Heh, yeah. A day lazing around with you sounds fantastic.” So gently he kissed your temples, scared of hurting you, but needing to show you in even a small way how much he cared.

    Gundham Tanaka:

·       With a groan Gundham stirred from his rest, realizing his phone vibrated so much it had fallen off the bedside table, screen side up, lighting up the whole room to which Gundham hissed, shielding himself behind the quilt and sheets. Slowly he crept out, reaching his hand over the bed, patting the ground till his fingers felt that smooth device. Squinting his eyes, he saw he had gotten many messages from you, but the last one simply said ‘never mind. You better not wake up because of this.’ Well… too late for that. Almost every message was a variation of ‘please pick me up’, but then the last few realizing that because you were texting him to pick you up because the buses didn’t run this late, Gundham would probably be asleep by now. Stiffly he sat up, lightly stretching before going to the closet.

·       Walking into the rain, that soft pitter-patter that surrounding him caused him to wonder if by chance it was raining where you were… Just in case he brought a second umbrella, keeping it tucked under his arm… It was also rather chilly out so he brought an extra coat… He also wasn’t sure if you had brought any shoes suited for rain and puddles, so he brought a pair… And from the texts it seems you have been up for a while so perhaps you’d be hungry, so he also brought some leftovers in a small container with him… And maybe- Gundham abruptly shook his head at his own behavior. He needed to get going, not constantly going and in and out for something else… But maybe- “No! Enough of this!” With renewed conviction he strode down the sidewalk, not looking back.

·       It was a rather long walk to be sure, it’d take an hour by train or bus so Gundham jogged along, occasionally checking his phone to make sure he was heading the right way. The Devas huddled in the scarf, snuggled into Gundham, concealing themselves in that warmth, a few occasionally chattering. “I agree, this is entirely too strange, but that’s exactly why we must make haste.” The splashes of his feet against the puddles rippled and warped the reflection of those bight city lights that were drawing ever nearer as Gundham dashed past.

·       Once at the edge, where the streets and towering buildings met Gundham had looked down for but a moment, checking the apartment address when two of his Devas poked their heads out of the scarf, sniffing the air as one lightly nipped his neck. “Huh? My love is…” With a firm nod he began to follow their directions and dropped the phone into his pocket.

·       “Y/N…” You didn’t move, simply glancing at him for a moment. “I told you not to wake up.” Your voice was so horse, so quiet, that even the softest patter of the rain drowned your voice out, Gundham had only understood your words being your Soul’s mate, having been with you for so long he could have predicted it should he have tried too. There you laid, curled up into a ball, hugging your knees to your chest on a bench in the park, under the dead light of a lamp pole. Gundham kneeled before you, holding out the umbrella, himself getting out from under it’s protection in the process before opening the second one for the Devas and himself. You sighed, sitting up. “Since you’re here anyway, I suppose I’ll accept your company. Not that I needed it, I, I’m fine… Just… forgot the time is all.”

·       That little blush that dusted your cheeks suddenly flared up feeling the warmth of the coat that surrounded you and seeing the small container of chicken teriyaki held out before you. “T-the hell did you bring this for?” “Nourishment is a necessity for building up strength, and we have quite a ways to traverse before we’ll return to our domains.” With trembling hands you took the container. You took a bite, slowly chewing it, taking in all the flavors… You tried holding it back, but quickly those tears mixed in with the rain that dripped down your cheeks. “it’s not good cold…”

·       The tears that came pouring out, through hiccups and sobs you shoveled in bite after bite, all the while, Gundham taking off his coat and scarf, draping them over you. “Why, W-why do I even try anymore? I do everything they want, and they STILL blow up in my face! Why does mom always take their side!? I try to get along with her new partner, but they just never will try with me! AT LEAST I’M TRYING TO MAKE FATHER’S DEATH EASY ON HER, SO WHY DO THEY HAVE TO MAKE THINGS SO DIFFICULT!? WHY IS MOM WITH SUCH A JACK ASS!? WHY… why can’t I have my mom back? Why does she have to glom onto that fucking jerk!? Can’t she see they’re just taking advantage of her!? I… why? W-why.” Even as you hugged yourself, leaning forward, he didn’t dare move as you rested your head against his shoulder.

·       Not saying a word you sat up, only now noticing the rain boots that were placed before you. As you placed them on, Gundham closed one of the umbrellas. He stood closely beside you as the pair of you walked along. “… you didn’t have to come.” “I know.” “It must have been a real pain to get up so late.” “It was.” “And to walk all the way out here.” “Jog.” “That’s even worse.” “It certainly was.” “… thank you.” “…” A light pink dusted his cheeks as he took a step closer to you, now shoulder to shoulder. Though exhausted and feeling like you were on the edge of both blowing up and collapsing, the gesture pulled at the corner of your lips, drawing a soft smile from you.

[lilyvandersteen]

The Christmas Guest Chapter 10

Author’s Note: Here’s Blaine’s point of view of the kiss and what comes after. Fluff galore. Enjoy!

Read Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 and Chapter 5, the Interlude, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 and Chapter 9 here on Tumblr, or read the story on AO3 or FF.net.

Chapter 10: Part of the Family

As soon as Blaine’s lips touched Kurt’s, he felt Kurt freeze for a moment, but just when he wanted to draw back and apologize, Kurt let out the softest sigh and melted against him. He also started kissing back, and held Blaine as if he’d never let go again. It made Blaine completely forget where he was and why. All that existed was Kurt, and how he felt, and how he tasted, and how he made Blaine’s head whirl with the simplest touch.

Blaine had no idea how much time had passed when the two of them were jolted apart by another party-goer, but it was not nearly long enough. He blinked hazily at Kurt, who looked as kiss-drunk as Blaine felt, and then at the people around them, who were… counting?

Oh. Right. New Year. Oh, brilliant, then we can kiss some more!

As soon as everybody started yelling Happy New Year, Blaine kissed Kurt again, reveling in the fact that he could, and that Kurt seemed to welcome his attentions. They needed to talk about this, yes, but first… First, he was going to enjoy this!

Again, he had to stop before he was ready to, this time because one of Kurt’s friends took offence to their PDA. They were quickly defended by Kurt’s other friends, but Blaine could tell Kurt felt uncomfortable, so he didn’t protest when Kurt wanted to go home, though he was a bit apprehensive about the conversation they would be having once they were back in Kurt’s room. Had he overstepped Kurt’s boundaries without realizing? Had Kurt only kissed back to keep up appearances? Surely, Blaine couldn’t have misread the situation that badly?

He chanced a quick glance at Kurt, who hadn’t said a word since they left the party, but his face was unreadable. He was shivering, though, and at once, Blaine’s preoccupations flew out of his head and he only thought of warming up Kurt.

In thanks for his efforts, Kurt sent him a glowing smile, which kept Blaine going until they were back in Kurt’s bedroom, putting their pajamas on, still in silence. By the time Blaine slipped into bed, his skin was skittering with all the feelings and words cooped up inside of him. As he cuddled up to Kurt, he couldn’t keep it all in anymore, and he burst out into an apology – right at the same time as Kurt started talking.

Well, not so much talking as asking for an explanation. Which was only fair, of course. Only… What answer did he expect? Could Blaine be honest and tell Kurt he’d tumbled head over heels in love with him? Would he dare?

Blaine hedged a bit, but Kurt pressed on, and his resistance crumbled. He could no more lie to Kurt than he could to himself. And maybe it was crazy to feel this way about someone he’d only known for a few days, but if by some miracle, Kurt felt the same way, maybe they could try dating for real?

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Kurt’s lips found his, and his heart leapt happily. Yes!

K&B

When Blaine woke up the next morning, Kurt was still deeply asleep, his head on Blaine’s bicep and his arm thrown over Blaine’s chest.

Blaine smiled up at the ceiling, happier than he could remember ever being, and enjoying this quiet private time holding Kurt in his arms.

This Christmas break had been nothing like he’d expected, but it had been everything he needed. Relaxing. A slice of home and family. Scrumptious food and fun pastimes. And most importantly: Kurt.

My boyfriend.

Oh, it felt good to think those words and know they were finally true. It felt so right. Like it had from the very beginning, when Kurt sat down next to him on the plane, and Blaine had smiled at him as though they’d known each other forever.

Well, maybe in another life they had.

Blaine heard floorboards creak, and a second later, Burt’s head peeped in.

“Good morning!” Blaine whispered. “And Happy New Year!”

“Kurt still asleep?”

“Dead to the world.”

“Glad you got home okay. Did Finn’s girl sleep over too?”

“Yes. We were all exhausted.”

“That late?”

“Just after midnight. That’s late enough for me.”

Burt hummed in assent. “Well, come down to breakfast if you can pry Mr. Koala loose. Carole’s making blueberry pancakes.”

That made Blaine’s mouth water. He looked down at Kurt sleeping peacefully, and then back at Burt, torn.

Burt chuckled. “Or not. You can always whip up a batch yourself later, if you want a bit of a lie-in. But no shenanigans, you hear me?”

Blaine nodded, and the door closed again.

Blaine closed his eyes and softly stroked Kurt’s hair.

“What time izzit?” came a sleepy inquiry.

Blaine smiled and told Kurt, “Way too early for you. Go back to sleep, sweetie.”

Kurt curled into him like a contented cat, rubbing his head against Blaine’s hand. “Feels good when you do that.”

So Blaine kept up his gentle caresses until Kurt’s face went slack, and he nodded off again himself a while later.

By the time they made their way downstairs, it was past ten o’clock, and Blaine’s stomach was rumbling in protest.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” said Carole. “Burt’s off to work already, and Finn finished all the pancakes, I’m afraid. I swear he’s got some sixth sense for food cooking. Always shows up seconds after the pan starts sizzling.”

Kurt yawned. “No worries, Carole, we’ll fend for ourselves. Are there still eggs?”

Twenty minutes later, Finn came into the kitchen, sniffing like a dog. “Is that cinnamon toast I smell?”

Blaine hid a smile. Carole had spoken the absolute truth. Finn had shown up not even a minute after the first toast had hit the pan.

Kurt swatted at Finn with the spatula. “Out! Yes, it’s cinnamon toast, and no, you can’t have any. You’ve already had breakfast, and you finished your own as well as ours, says Carole.”

“I was hungry!”

“Well, now WE are hungry and don’t want to share. Clear out!”

“Aw, come on!”

“Maybe that works on Cathy, but not on me. What did you do, swipe half of her pancake while she was talking to Carole?”

“No! She had a whole one herself. And then she let me finish her second one.”

Kurt fake-swooned. “Aw, true love! Where’s Cathy, anyway?”

Finn pouted. “She went home already. Said she still had tons of work to do. Lessons to prepare. For next week.”

“Well, at least one of you takes their studies seriously. Why don’t you take her good example and get some work done as well? Not much else to do, ‘cause Puck and the other New Directions will be hungover, and Blaine and I will be packing because we’re going back to New York.”

“Hang on, you’re leaving today?”

That was news to Blaine too. His plane ticket back to New York was for two days later, as he didn’t have class until Tuesday afternoon. Still, he could try and get his flight rebooked. He just wished he’d known a bit earlier.

As soon as Finn had left the kitchen, Blaine asked Kurt what flight he was taking, and then spent a good half hour on the phone to sort things out. When he hung up with a triumphant smile, having scored not only the flight but also the exact seat he wanted, Kurt shook his head, smirking.

“When you start pouring on the charm, I don’t think anyone could say no to you if they tried.”

Blaine cocked his head to the side and moved a bit closer. “Hmm… You can’t say no to me? Now that’s interesting…”

Kurt squeaked in apprehension  – actually squeaked, and Blaine grinned.

Kurt’s chin went up. “I’ll learn to say no. So there. I’ll become immune, after a while.”

Blaine’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t be too sure, if I were you.”

“Oh, hush you!”

“Make me.”

And then he lost both his words and his grin when Kurt grabbed his head and kissed him.

They didn’t stop kissing until Finn came stomping into the kitchen looking for a snack, and asked, “Weren’t you going to pack?”

When Burt drove them to the airport that evening, he looked at Blaine in the rear-view mirror – they’d opted to both sit in the back again – and asked, “So are you sad you didn’t get to spend the holidays with your own folks, bud?”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand, looked at him with all his love showing, and answered, “Not a bit. I had a marvelous time. Again, thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Happy to have you, kid. Feel free to tag along every year from now on. We’ve all accepted you as part of the family.”

Blaine felt ridiculously close to tears, even as the corners of his mouth curved up, and could not manage a response. It made him happy to be so accepted, yet he felt guilty, too, for deceiving Burt.

Kurt kissed his cheek and announced, “Good, ‘cause Blaine is here to stay. Though, Blaine, I do want to meet your family too, someday.”

As soon as Blaine could strings words together again, he promised, “You will. We can go see my parents this summer. And Skype with Cooper one of these days. Though… I apologize in advance for all the ridiculous things Cooper is going to say.”

“Brothers,” Kurt nodded knowingly.

Kurt hugged his father tightly at the airport. When he let go, Blaine held out his hand for Burt to shake, but instead, Burt wrapped him up in a bear hug, too.

“Take care, kiddo. And look after Kurt for me, will you? Make him eat enough and sleep enough and have some fun in between all his work.”

“I will. I promise.”

Burt let him go and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. Wouldn’t mind having you as my son-in-law one day.”

“Daaaaad!” Kurt moaned.

“What, like you haven’t planned the wedding already in your head?”

Kurt looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor. “Dad, please! Do you want Blaine to run for the hills? We’ve only just become boyfriends!”

Well, isn’t that the truth… But I can totally picture myself married to you, so I’m not running anywhere but into your arms.

“I don’t think Blaine’s the kind to be easily scared off. He let us kidnap him when he didn’t know us from Adam, didn’t he?”

Both Kurt and Blaine gaped at Burt.

He chuckled at their gob-smacked expressions. “I heard you, kid. Inviting Blaine ‘as a friend’ because he’d been nice to you on the plane. I saw you making goo-goo eyes at each other. But Blaine didn’t dare say yes. So I made him come with us. And I don’t regret it. Do you?”

Kurt closed his mouth with a snap, and shook his head slowly, his eyes misty and his smile radiant.

Blaine shook his head as well. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

[enbylovebird]

"don't you remember?"

hawks x gn!reader bullet fic.

tw: mentions of injury, memory loss.

(your quirk will be revealed, don't worry!)

the past few days have been... interesting

if a bystander were to narrate what's happened to you, it would be like everything has grinded to a screeching halt

one minute you were finishing up an assignment in a small café near your apartment, and the next, you were waking up in a hospital with a headache threatening to split your skull in half

to you, though, it doesn't feel like that. you can't remember what you were doing prior to being woken up by the harsh white lights of the hospital room.

you just... showed up here.

thankfully, you don't have to sit alone with no one to answer the hundreds of questions that are now knocking against your skull

there's two men at the door of your room. one of them has on what seems to be a white coat and a stethoscope and the other has... crimson wings.

his jacket looks warm and he's wearing headphones around his neck, and from where you're lying, his expression looks forced. forced into what specifically, you can't figure it out. but it's forced.

"um," you barely manage to hum. both men are at your side in a flash, their eyes wide with relief and concern. "where am i? what happened?"

the stethoscope man (doctor, your mind helpfully supplies) mutters something to the wing man (name unknown, your mind helps you again) and jogs out, leaving you upright with the man with wings.

"where is he going?" you ask. god, it feels like someone is taking a crack at your skull every time you speak.

the man with wings seems too overwhelmed to even speak. he's just scanning your face with teary eyes, his shoulders slowly rising to his ears. a watery smile shakes his lips, and you think, for just a second, that he's incredibly pretty.

his eyes are an amber... no, golden color, and they're trained on you and you alone.

you don't know why he's crying, though. over you, no less.

"are you okay?" you ask.

the pretty bird man lets out a shaky chuckle. "am i okay, they ask." he repeats your words. it's not mocking. he seems torn between laughing and crying, but before you can pin down what he's going to do, he grabs your hand and leans forward, resting his head on the bed.

his wings are folded against his back, but you swear you see the feathers individually relax. "you have no idea how fucking worried i was, pretty bird." his voice is muffled by the sheets, but you hear him clearly.

"pretty bird?" you voice your thoughts. if anything, he's the pretty bird here. you don't say that part.

there's a heavy silence before you feel a warmth entering your body. it's coming from where the two of you are connected by your hands. you're not sure how or why, but you feel tears start to build in your eyes as well. you let out a broken sob against your will.

confused and scared, you wrench your hand out of his grip, the two of you now upright and staring at each other with wild and hurt expressions. the pain in your head is threatening to make you black out.

"y/n?" the bird man calls, his feathery eyebrows knit together. "what's--?"

a million questions are running through your head, but only one manages to slip past your lips.

"who's y/n?"

at that moment, the doctor returns with a few nurses. they sort of push the bird man out the way with their doting over you, but you comply. they inject you with something and it makes the headache subside enough for you to relax your shoulders.

it's a crazy few minutes, but once the other doctors leave, it's just you and the two men from before left.

and boy, does he drop some news. (at least you figure by the bird man's reaction. you're just going through the motions here.)

"the villain in the attack had a memory wipe quirk." the bird man recounts easily. "at least that's what the heroes on the scene told me."

"and they were right. that particular person can wipe select memories from people they target. if you're caught in the crossfire though, there's no telling how much you could forget." the doctor looks at you then, his eyes sympathetic. "it would appear that y/n here was caught in that crossfire."

the bird man goes tense. you can see it. "so you're telling me that they--"

the doctor sighs. "y/n?"

you figure that he's talking to you. "is that what my name is? that's a pretty name." you muse. "but um... do you mind explaining who i am and why i'm here?"

you think that your question is innocent and well-placed, but the atmosphere says otherwise. the doctor turns away from you to look at the bird man.

"hawks, i understand that we are sworn to confidentiality with our patients, but i need you to tell me your relation to this person."

the bird man -- now designated as hawks -- looks between you and the doctor before leaning in and whispering the answer. you pout, wanting to know why exactly you couldn't head the answer.

the doctor seems shocked. "really? well, you have my word that no one will know. in any case, y/n here is actually fine. they were just hit with the stray attack. a few cuts because of broken glass, but nothing serious. they can actually go home in a day or two, but you need to take it slow with them. there's no telling what the memories could do to them. that is.. if they remember."

the "if" makes hawks clench his jaw. he looks at you, his expression unreadable. "thanks, doc." he seems to hesitate before sighing. "i'm actually going to go finish up some paperwork, so..." he doesn't take his eyes off you. "i'll be back. promise. see you in two days."

and just like that, you're alone again. you're alone with far more questions than answers.

the next two days are lonely, to say the least.

not all that lonely, you guess. nurses come in and even a hero nurse as well. she explains your quirk -- empathy.

through physical contact, you can feel the emotions of whomever you choose. you can also share what you feel with the person you touch. you suddenly remember when hawks held your hand. you may not have it under control, but at least you know what it is.

the day of your discharge comes, and hawks looks to be dreading this moment. like he's grappling with something. you figure that he's a hero and he must be antsy to get back to work. you offer him a reassuring smile when he shows up.

"if you're worried about me being in pain, trust me, the bandages are nothing, okay?" you try to cheer him up. it clearly doesn't work. he gives you a tight smile.

hawks doesn't say anything the entire way home.

he actually doesn't say much for days. it's mostly just strange looks and clenched jaws. he always avoids touching you.

you two don't live together, but as you spend time at home piecing together your memories, you notice that there's a lot of indication that you have a male partner.

you find big t-shirts and hoodies that personally don't ring a bell, but smell way too familiar. you find shampoo, conditioner and body soap that clearly don't belong to you, and even a jacket that looks a lot like--

after the second week of the silent treatment from hawks, you call him, clearly fed up.

he shows up in no time at all, as you expected. after doing some research, you learn that he's the number two pro hero. he's one of the fastest people in the world if he tries hard enough. him showing up at your apartment within minutes of contacting him wasn't surprising.

"you called?" he says as he lands on your balcony. the first words he's spoken to you since you were discharged. "is everything okay?"

you dump everything you found at his feet. you know you don't talk to any other men, and he's literally the only person you can think of. "what's this?" you ask.

you aren't sure why, but you're rather pissed.

hawks raises a brow at all of his stuff now at his feet. "why are you doing this?" he asks in response. he picks it up with a few feathers and guides everything back to their places. "what're you dumping your stuff on the floor for?"

"it's not my stuff! that's the problem! it's yours!"

you bring a hand to your head. "why are you everywhere? why are you so important to me? why won't you tell me anything?"

hawks just watches as you practically have a meltdown. you start to breathe heavily, but rather than say anything, he just extends a hand. you know what physical contact does, and you just look at him.

"just... touch me, y/n. activate your quirk." he has that serious look in his eye and a sad smile on his face.

you do as he says, and what you feel makes you recoil.

you feel... everything. you feel the late nights, the nausea that kept you up at night as you waited for hawks to come home. you felt the lazy sundays when you two would sing old classics and make breakfast. you felt the christmases you spent together, flying high in the chilly hair. you felt the fights, the kisses, the fleeting touches. you felt the infatuation, the love.

you look at hawks -- no, keigo -- wildly.

"what... what was that?" you ask breathlessly. "keigo, you--"

at the sound of his name, keigo just pulls you close to his chest. his feathers are shaking, and so are his shoulders.

"don't you remember?" he says after a minute. "tell me you remember, songbird. tell me you remember something -- anything."

you do. oh, you do. but it's so much to process.

"we clearly have some catching up to do, huh?" you mutter.

a dry chuckle. "yeah. yeah, we do."

you pull away from keigo, looking him in his now red eyes. ah, there he is, you think. there's the man you fell in love with.

"well, hi." you extend a hand. "my name is y/n. and yours?"

keigo sniffs and gives you a crooked grin. "the name's takami keigo, but you probably know me as hawks." he shakes your hand gently, his grin softening as he sees the way you can clearly feel his emotions. "don't tell anybody that though, please."

"your secret's safe with me, keigo."

[shoutaaizawas]

Can I request a Shinsou villain!au (where he is a hero and reader a villain) with: “how is this my fault?” And if you can choose 2: “do you even love me?”

when i say thank you for this request i really mean it, omg this idea got me so excited.

↳ shinsou hitoshi x reader → falling down

event: au prompts summary: it was just a mission, get close to shinsou and get information. how did it ever get this far? word count: 2.6k+ tags/warnings: angsttt, i’m sorry, but it has a happy ending a/n: wow this got out of hand but i really loved this idea so much. might eventually do a follow up piece.

What if? What if things were simple. If you were a normal woman and he was a normal man. If the biggest problem in your life was picking where to eat for dinner? But things never were that simple were they?

You were a villain that was something you had always been okay with. You had your reasons that you felt justified in being one. The hero association had torn apart your family it was only right that you got your revenge. That’s how you ended up with the league of villains.

What you hadn’t expected was being used as a double agent. They needed information and your face wasn’t known to anyone as a villain. You were the perfect fit.

Shinsou Hitoshi was a risky pick but he would have the best information. So they set it up. It was like a movie, the classic meet-cute. He saves you from a villain attack set up by the League.

The next day you bump into him at the local coffee shop quite literally. Coffee is all over your new shirt and he’s a gentleman. He offers to pay for the shirt and buy you a new coffee even though it was you who bumped into him.

At first, it seems like it might be easy, becoming a part of his life. It’s not hard to get him on a date. No, it’s when you try to get closer. Building that intimacy and trust is not easy.

Shinsou tells you about his childhood, how he struggled with his quirk. People bullying him calling him a villain. How cruel they were to him and how he felt like he could never trust anyone. You could relate to how he felt, you had a similar childhood.

You suppose that’s when things started falling apart. The sting of guilt in your chest surprised you, it had been a long time since you felt bad about anything. You worked hard to burn the guilt out of yourself but you hadn’t worked hard enough evidently. The thought of gaining his trust that was so guarded from the world made you sick. You pushed it down. This was a job. This was for your family.

“The world doesn’t have to be so cruel, you can trust me.” Your guilt was understandable what wasn’t was the fact you wished that they were true.

Slowly but surely he fell for you, any time he had free was with you. Date nights were common but he preferred spending nights at his place cuddled up playing video games with his cat wedged in between you.

“I have a hard time sleeping but when you’re here I have no problem.” He said into your hair as you rested against his chest.

Wrapped up in his arms you felt so safe and loved, listening to his heartbeat. Safe wasn’t something you had felt since you were a child, something that had been taken away from you a long time ago. It was a distant memory.

Since you lost your family you lived on the streets, barely making it through. Stealing was the only way you had been able to survive. When you were a teenager you were thrown into prison for your thievery. What kind of hero saw a starving kid and threw them away?

By the time you got out you had fully realized your purpose in life, the hero association had been the reason for your family's death. Heroes had only every hurt you when you needed help the most. If life wanted you to be a villain then you would be and you’d burn to the ground the organization that had taken so much from you.

Even among villains, you didn’t feel like you fit in. You were constantly watching your back waiting for danger. You had long given up the concept of a safe home where you were cared for.

But laying in Shinsou’s arms was a taste of that life you craved underneath it all. What you wished you had all along. But you were on a mission, he was your target and if he knew the truth about you he would hate you to your core.

A tear ran down your cheek in mourning of the life you’d never have.

Shinsou had gotten hurt at work, you rushed to the hospital and stayed by his side. When they released him and you stayed with him at his apartment helping him while he healed.

His arm had been broken leaving him pretty helpless with things around the house. He protested but you stayed with him cooking for him and cleaning up around the house. It was nice, it felt so unfamiliar and comfortable at the same time.

Sitting on the couch, Shinsou resting between your legs, you softly ran your hand through his hair as you watched TV. He leaned back, looking up at you with gentle eyes.

“Thank you.” He said. “For being here for me.”

“Of course,” You said. “I’ll always be here for you.”

In moments like these, it was easy to forget everything else. To pretend that your life was perfect. The way he looked at you made your head swim, your heart melt. He trusted you, cared about you, maybe even loved you. That made you happy until reality hit and you realized you had him right where the League wanted him.

It had been a perfect night, Shinsou took you out for your six month anniversary. After a nice dinner, he walked you through the park, standing underneath a gazebo lit up he gave you a stunning necklace.

“I just want you to have something that shows just how much I care about you.” He said, looking down into your eyes with his intense purple gaze.

“I-” You were choked up, the emotion in his voice was overwhelming. How you wished that you were normal and this was a normal happy relationship. You were suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to cry but you disguised it as happiness. “I love it, ‘toshi. Thank you.”

Shinsou leaned down wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You cared about Shinsou Hitoshi far more than you were ever supposed to.

He dropped you off at your apartment and as you walked inside you were met with a familiar face. Dabi.

“Wow, what a beautiful necklace. Your boyfriend must really like you.” He said in a teasing tone. “You looked real comfortable out there kissing him like that, too comfortable if you ask me. I know we picked you to play the part but something tells me your not that good of an actor.” He said circling you.

“It’s none of your business how I get things done.” You shot back. You didn’t like the tone in his voice.

“Which is why I’m here, what information do you have?” He asked.

You had been able to gather a small amount snooping around his place. It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the league but it would keep them at bay for now.

“I’ll be leaving but a word of advice. I wouldn’t get too invested if you ever feel like running away to play house forever with your purple boy it would be very unfortunate for the both of you.” He threatened as he stepped out the door. You wanted to yell at him but that would only further his suspicion.

But one thing was true, you were in too deep. You loved Shinsou Hitoshi.

This was bad. You had been on another task for the League, it was supposed to be simple but everything went sideways. Shinsou had been there and now he was chasing you down.

He didn’t know it was you, of course. Your villain costume kept your face and hair hidden away but if he caught up to you. If he found out who you were- No. You wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t know. You could imagine his hurt expression and it made you sick. You had to get away.

Thankfully you had an advantage, you knew how is quirk worked. You knew to keep your mouth shut no matter what you heard so you’d avoid his mind control. That didn’t get rid of the fact that he was athletic, more athletic than you it seemed because he was gaining on you.

Turning down an alleyway you hoped to lose him but he followed and unfortunately for you it was a dead end. You prepared to scale the wall in front of you buy your foot was caught and you slammed into the ground as he pulled you back with his capture weapon.

“Gotcha.” He said as he approached you with a confident smile, his mask resting around his neck. The capture weapon was now wrapped around your waist, pinning your arms to your side as he got closer.

You struggled, desperate to get away. This couldn’t happen. No, this was the nightmare you had been having for months now.

Shinsou now stood over you looking down at you.

“Now let’s get rid of this.” He said grabbing at the edges of your mask.

“No-” You screamed out but it was too late. The mask was pulled up, leaving your face bare and your identity out.

Shinsou’s eyebrows drew together, eyes wide, and mouth open. The look of confusion, then denial, then heartbreak.

“You-” He stuttered out. “No, this isn’t right.”

“’Toshi, I swear I can explain.” You begged, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone was biting, you had never heard him so upset much less have it directed at you. “You’re a villain-” He started then stopped as if he couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” You tell him, suddenly you wished all of the times you doubted what you were doing you had stopped and told him the truth. Told him what happened, why you did everything, how you wanted to leave your life behind and start a new life with him.

“You didn’t want to hurt me!?” He yells and you flinch. “You were using me? You work with the League, don’t you?”

“They wanted information. They assigned me to get it.” You say softly, it makes you sick admitting it to him.

You never wanted it to come to this but in hindsight what else was going to happen? People like you didn’t get happy endings no matter how much they wanted them.

“I was just a mission for you.” He says almost in disbelief. “It trusted you. You listened to me pour out my heart time after time and you played the part of the perfect girl and fed me lies!”

“You weren’t supposed to be so nice.” You start. “Heroes are evil, that’s all I’ve ever know since I was a kid. The hero association tore apart my family, heroes punished me for trying to survive. They’re all monsters.”

Tears are burning in your eyes now, your breaths heavy as emotion overwhelms you.

“But then I met you and I thought you were just good at hiding it.” You continue. “But you weren’t, you were genuinely good. You care about people and helping them. I hated heroes so much but every single day you tore that hate down with everything you did. If you weren’t so selfless and kind. Why did you have to make me question everything I ever thought about the world?!”

Tears are running down your face now. Your world had been turned upside down by Shinsou Hitoshi. You knew what the world looked like but after knowing him you questioned everything.

“How is this my fault?” He asks, using everything in him to not let his tears fall. He takes a shaky breath in trying to process your words. “Tell me this, did you even love me?”

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.” You said through your tears. “But everything I said to you, I meant. Every bad day I helped you through. Every touch, every hug, every kiss. I meant it all.”

Shinsou stares at you and you can tell he’s trying to decide if your lying or not.

“What made you hate heroes so much?” He asks, trying to keep his tone even. “Please tell me you have a good reason, I can’t bear thinking the woman I fell in love with is some thoughtless monster.”

Fell in love with? The statement makes your heart flutter than drop. He loved you. Loved. There was no way he could love you after everything you did to him. The betrayal you left him with.

“My parents were heroes. They got in too deep with the commission and when they disapproved they were killed for it. They put me in a foster home but they were cruel. I ran away grew up on the streets but I had to steal to stay alive. I hated it so much but I was so hungry.” It’s hard not to tear up more remembering your childhood. “When a hero caught me I was thrown in jail. When I was in there I realized that I didn’t want to be a good person, I wanted revenge. So I joined the League to do that and then they assigned me to this…”

Shinsou’s eyes had softened over the course of your story.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice thick with emotion as he kneeled down to get to your level. The capture weapon around you loosened but you didn’t move a muscle. “You didn’t deserve any of that. It’s not fair.”

“I promise you, everything I felt with you it was real. Everything I said to you about how I felt I meant it. I’ve never loved someone, I’ve never felt so safe around another person. I’m so sorry for hurting you, I’m a monster. I don’t know how to make it up to you.” You cry, looking down.

What you don’t expect is the soft hand at your chin pulling your gaze up.

“You had a hard life. Most people would make the same choices you did. That’s behind you, if you want to change you can.” He said. You didn’t believe his soft tone. “If you leave everything behind, the League, your revenge, I’ll help you. We can deal with what happened to your parents the right way, were no innocents get pulled into it.”

“W-Why? Why would you help me after everything I did to you?” You ask.

“I love you,” His words make your heart skip a beat. “I want to help you and I will but only if you promise me you’ll turn away from it all.”

“That’s all I wanted.” You say, tears running down your face yet again. “I just never thought you could forgive what I’ve done.”

“I forgive you, just don’t do it again.” He teases with a smirk. You let out a laugh that sounds more like a sob.

“Thank you.” You sob reaching forward to hug him. Burying your face into his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.”

His arms circle around you pulling you even closer. One hand holding the back of your head.

“I love you.” He says. You look up at him with watery eyes, tears leftover in his as well.

“I love you so much.” You tell him. He leans forward catching your lips in a kiss.

As he holds you in that alleyway it hits you. Things are going to be okay, they may not be easy but you know Shinsou will be by your side through it all. You know that you’ll get the safety you craved, the loving home you always desired. And that’s how you know it’ll all turn out alright.

[kitkat1003]

On the issue of Mortality

AO3 Link

MK chose to be mortal, to be vulnerable, for the time being, and Monkey King is fine with that.

On the surface, at least.  Now he has a successor, one that he likes, and he’s vulnerable????

Yeah, he’s never going to sleep easy again.

(Or, 11 chapters through season 1 about Monkey King, and anxiety his successor gives him.  Who knew being a dad teacher would be so hard?)

Chapter 1: Picking a successor

(Or “Look, I’m gonna come clean.  Um...I’ve been kinda watching you”)

When Sun Wukong—the Monkey King—decides he needs a successor, it isn’t an easy decision.  For one, he refuses to admit why.  Because that would mean confronting it all and he doesn’t want to.  

He needs a successor because he wants one.  Who doesn’t want to retire?  It’s not like he’s spent hundreds of thousands of years in technical retirement, waiting for the Demon Bull King to return.  No, he’s been...super busy.  Yeah.  Turning Flower Fruit Mountain into a paradise has totally taken him…forever, and, like, he’s got lots of stuff to do.  He watches TV, once humans get electricity figured out.  Gets a computer too, once those things start popping up.  He gets a lawyer or two, yknow, keeping up with the times.

He’s...super busy.  He definitely deserves a retirement.

So all that’s left is find a successor.  Easy, right?

Well....

He actually starts looking when he hears whispers that the Demon Bull family is starting to get close to figuring out how to lift his staff.  So about a hundred years before Demon Bull King actually escapes.

He finds a few kids he thinks might work, but nothing happens, anyway, so there’s no point in interrupting their boring normal lives for nothing.  Besides, he doesn’t really see any of them with the spark of...something that he wants in his successor in any of them

He watches them grow.  Child to teen to adult, he watches, and then he leaves before they get too old because he doesn’t want to see the headstones.

He doesn’t understand why they have to be human.  Why they have to be mortal.  Why they have to be able to die.

Why he has to watch them die.

Years and years pass.  He gets lax, when looking for a successor.  Lax when it comes to keeping an eye on the Demon Bull family.

He does, on occasion, watch the town where his staff is.  It’s a pretty populace place, always buzzing with some sort of activity, which is both fun and boring.

One night, he watches a kid—no older than 13, he thinks, since he’s gotten used to watching humans grow and can gauge it pretty well—sprint down the street in the rain, wearing nothing but a ratty old hoodie, a shirt, shorts, torn up shoes, and a headband so dirty that even he can’t discern the original color.

There are three other figures chasing him, and he ducks into an alley as they sprint past.  Monkey King watches as the kid settles down, sitting in the alley, and pulling something out from beneath his hoodie.

A puppy.

“Hey there, little guy,” the kid’s voice is soft, and he scritches the tiny pup behind the ears.  “Sorry I couldn’t get your siblings, but they’d already been thrown in the lake—” the look on the kid’s face is nothing short of heartbreaking. 

Monkey King has plans for the group of thugs he saw earlier, if that’s what they were doing. Humans. 

“But hey, managed to save you, huh?  I’ll bring you to a shelter in the morning.  Someone will take you home and you’ll get loved to death.” Monkey King rolls his eyes at the saccharine display, but he wonders.

There isn’t a lot of crime in this city, with its advancements.  What’s a kid doing outside this late at night?

“I’d take you home with me, but mine’s more of a hovel than a place to live.  You can still see it, though!  C’mon,” the kid gets up, stumbling a little, and Monkey King notices that he’s favoring one leg, that the elbow of one of the sleeve’s of his hoodie is wet.

He follows.

The kid’s house is literally a shack made of a metal sheet wedged between an alley wall.  There’s a ‘bench’ that’s a slab of rock placed on top of more rocks, where a well loved sketchbook sits.

The kid sits on the bench, setting the puppy down beside him as he flips open his sketchbook.

“I’m gonna draw you, so I don’t forget, kay?” He pats the pup on the head, and then, using the smallest, most worn down pencil Monkey King has ever seen, he slowly carves out the puppy’s features, getting the soft tones of fur.  He keeps squinting, but Monkey King thinks that’s because all he has is the light of the lamppost for his vision.

This kid...is pretty darn good.

Monkey King watches for way longer than he would like to admit, and then watches as the kid pulls out a very worn blanket-substitute, curling around the puppy beneath it.

He frowns, but isn’t sure what to do about it.

So he leaves, and makes sure those thugs learn a thing or two about treating animals with respect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

This kid just keeps popping up in Monkey King’s peripherals.

He likes to people watch, and the kid will just appear from nowhere.  He’ll be running down the street, hanging out with this girl who looks about 3 economic classes above him. They’ll go to the arcade and play for hours, and she’ll pay for practically everything.

He decides he likes her, if she’s nice enough to do that for the kid.  Plus, he feels a familiar energy coming off of her, something he trusts.

They typically end their day at a noodle shop.  Pigsy’s?  The kid always pays there, with coins of various sizes.  The girl, when the kid isn’t looking, will slip the cook some more money.  They get steaming hot bowls of ramen, harass the cook, and eventually get half chased out, laughing all the while.

“You know you can stay with me, right?” The girl says, one day, when Monkey King is people watching (read: eavesdropping on their conversation.  It’s like his new favorite TV show, at this point).  Kid rolls his eyes.

“Mei, c’mon, your relationship with your folks is as strained as mine!  I wouldn’t want you to end up like me.  Besides, I’m fine!” he insists with the grin Monkey King has grown accustomed to seeing on Kid’s face.  

The information Monkey King gains from those two sentences is certainly something, and he ponders on Mei, the girl who spends her days as far away from home as possible.

Mei frowns.

“You still won’t show me where you’re staying.  Or explain why your clothes are all torn up!” She pokes him in the chest, and the Kid shrugs.

“Cause you wouldn’t like either of those things!  I can take care of myself!  Promise.” He rocks back and forth on his feet, all smiles.

Mei fixes him with a glare, before she sighs, relenting. “Fine.  But, if you won’t take my hospitality, you get my undying loyalty and free stuff!” She whips out a brand new red winter coat.  

Kid takes it slowly.

“It’s getting colder out!” She explains.  “And red just isn’t my color, you know?”

Kid slowly pulls the jacket against his chest, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, and then he smiles.  This one is smaller.  Less performative.  Monkey King didn’t realize that he’d been watching the kid to be able to tell the difference, but it’s not too hard to see.  Kid uses big smiles like a cloak, to hide what’s underneath.  The smaller ones-those are like the slivers of sunlight shooting out from an eclipse.  Wukong finds he prefers the smaller ones.

Kid wraps his arm around Mei’s shoulders.

“Thanks, Mei.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The days get colder, and Kid is still in that shack.  Monkey King finds out that Kid doesn’t steal for money.  Instead, he does little odd jobs for short change, and then looks for coins people have dropped.  Apparently, the city’s wealth has made people more loose with their change.

Mei drags him to warm places as often as she can, but apparently this time of year she has a lot of responsibilities, or “social events,” as she calls them, so she can’t be around as much.

Kid doesn’t seem to mind, shivering through the nights, curling himself as tight as possible with that jacket and shitty blanket, and Monkey King doesn’t know why he even cares, but...

He’s not cruel.  It isn’t pleasant to watch a kid suffer.

And then, Kid gets sick.  Like, delirious, fever sick, and he’s not getting better.

And Monkey King has told himself, a million times, that he would let Kid figure his own life out, but he ends up picking Kid up anyway, depositing him at the ever familiar noodle shop.

The cook drags the boy inside, and Monkey King doesn’t see Kid on the streets after that.

Good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kid starts working at the noodle shop, apparently, and he lives above the shop.  Slowly, he accrues random objects.  Sketchbooks, games, figurines, Monkey King comics?  He watches the show near religiously, and Monkey King is both flattered and weirded out.

A super fan, huh?  Okay then.

And when he isn’t working, or watching “Monkey King: The Animated Series,” or reading Monkey King comics, he’s begging the resident bookworm, Tang, for stories, which he then sketches out.

Monkey King actually goes through the sketchbook once, when Kid’s asleep.  Yup, Kid’s really, really good at this.  Monkey King actually thinks about stealing a drawing, but that would be both very obvious and also stupid.

So he lets it go.  He ought to look for his successor, anyway.  He hears the Demon Bull family is getting close.

He leaves Kid to his life and moves on to his own.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He can’t find a successor.  Somehow.  It’s like every person in this city (and it would have to be in this city, because you need to be close to the staff in some regard if you want to have a connection with it.  Being born near it, living near it-makes it easy for the energy, the chi, to find you) doesn’t want anything to do with hero business.  The kids he considers are too small, the adults too...boring.

And he’s getting pretty frustrated here, because he thinks he might just have to fight the Demon Bull King all over again, which, ugh.

And then, it clicks.

He’s watching Kid drive around town, delivering orders, and somehow the kid steers towards the construction site.  Toward the staff.

Of course.

God, it was literally staring him in the face.  He feels kind of dumb, now that it hits him, but whatever.  Not like anyone’s around to tease him about it.

He watches Kid waltz towards danger, music in his headphones too loud to notice the literal demon family, until Kid opens his eyes and sees the whole demon army there, and hoo boy, is this comical.

Monkey King wonders if they’ll succeed this time, in lifting his staff.  They certainly seem confident.  He’s kind of curious, kind of bored.  The whole ‘take our rightful place as rulers of this world’ schtick is super annoying, and Red Son’s voice is grating.

The light show is pretty nice, though, and then.

Then.

Demon Bull King’s a lot smaller than he remembers, but his voice is the same, as is his attitude.  Monkey King can feel Kid shaking and takes a quick sweep of the area.  Seems his successor is right above Red Son.

He smirks to himself, not that anyone can see considering he’s a bird right now.  

This is going to be hilarious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Kid touches the staff, Monkey King isn’t prepared for the feeling he gets.

It’s like he’s been the single Sun in an endless galaxy, surrounded by darkness, when suddenly another star appears from nowhere, throwing him into orbit with it.  The galaxy shifts, the light doubles, the darkness recedes.

Monkey King’s own center, his sun, feels red hot, warm, and tempered by years of life, with a spark of yellow and white in its center.  Kid’s is bright, brilliant golden yellow, more white than any color, bursting with energy.

That energy gets put to work pretty quickly, as the Kid fumbles his way out of the demon’s den, and Monkey King soars after him, watching the escape with a smile.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He doesn’t properly meet Kid until he gets shot all the way to Flower Fruit mountain.  After Kid escapes Red Son, he panickedly tells his friends what’s going on and tries to get there on his own.

Well, all the way is a bit much.  Maybe Monkey King had to catch Kid and fly him there, because Kid was looking half dead and Monkey King was a little worried, but that’s beside the point.  He leaves Kid on the shore, and follows him when Kid gets up.

He isn’t expecting the frustration, when he can’t be found, but he supposes that’s his cue.

Getting stepped on is unpleasant.  Guess Kid doesn’t like bugs.

God, the look on Kid’s face, when it hits him that Monkey King’s been watching him!  If he could frame a memory, that would be it.  Hoo, boy, is that going to be replaying in his head for a while.  Kid seems more bewildered than anything else, and the idea of being Monkey King’s successor doesn’t sit well with him.

Which, Monkey King doesn’t get that.  Who wouldn’t want to be taught by him?

But maybe he overestimates the kid’s spunk, his confidence, because waving off his worries doesn’t spur him on; rather, it seems to deflate him.

Ugh.  Why is being a teacher difficult?  It’s not like his teacher had a hard time with him, right?

Distantly, he thinks he can hear his master shouting at him.  He hops off his cloud, says just the right thing to get Kid pumped up, and watches him race off.

He considers just sitting back and not watching, but then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He isn’t actually sure what having a successor means, really.  How much their powers, their lives, would mirror his own.  A part of him was terrified by the prospect—could he even be known as anything special, if he was no longer one of a kind?

But there’s also something quite exciting about this.  The idea that your life is being rewritten, the story unfinished and yet also repeating itself.  The Demon Bull King is on the loose, with his army and family, trying to take over the world.

And only one person can stop him.  The Monkey King.

Kid’s powers are volatile.  He can feel them flare up from time to time, wildly flickering out of control.  A lack of self confidence, that might be causing it.  A part of him is annoyed by that, a part of him is relieved.  Far better to have to teach someone to believe in themselves than teach them humility.  He’s pretty sure he hasn’t learned that latter lesson all the way yet.

Kid vanishes into the Demon Bull King’s chest, where the staff lies, and for a moment, the new sun vanishes.  Monkey King feels the cold rush of space in its absence, and feels panic, even though he’s only known this warmth for a few hours.

But then, it bursts back into existence, as a familiar stone drops from the Demon Bull King’s chest, cracking open, and, well, it’s history being written the same way over and over again, isn’t it?

Kid has a flair for silliness, childish maneuvers.  He likes to have fun, and that’s the best part of the powers they share.  To be invincible, to have fun while saving the day. 

It’s a repeat, until, well, it isn’t.

The blow Kid takes makes Monkey King wince.  The body becoming invulnerable takes time.  It doesn’t just immediately show up.  Every second, Kid’s body is absorbing and meshing with the powers thrust upon it, but that doesn’t mean getting hit a mile by a guy twenty times your size doesn’t still hurt, at this point.

But Monkey King knows this is what has to happen.  Because heroes aren’t heroes if they never feel pain, never get hit.

Heroes, he thinks, as Kid tears himself from the wall he’s embedded in, as Kid stands, eyes ablaze, are heroes when they get hit and they get back up.

And Kid sure as hell does.

“I’m the Monkey Kid!” He shouts, like a battle cry, like a challenge, and Monkey King smirks.  Monkey Kid, huh?  It suits him.  And then, Kid slams the staff on the ground, and the world shifts.

A part of him is kind of jealous.  How come he never got a mech?!  Has that been a thing this entire time?  Another part is in awe of this Kid’s creativity, ability, at such a young age.

And seeing DBK get trounced again certainly keeps the jealous part of him quiet.

Kid’s got a nice group of friends.  Reminds him of his journey days, him and a rag tag group of idiots going around wreaking havoc and learning moral lessons at the end of it.  He’s glad Kid isn’t alone or on the streets anymore.  A strong foundation leads to a stronger ability to grow.

Well, he’d better get some sort of training regimen ready.  Or, at least, start thinking of some things to do to train this kid.  He’s sure at some point Kid is going to bug him for a lesson or two.

Somehow, the thought doesn’t bother him as much as he thinks it should.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

In the Eye of a Hurricane

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

He can hear his mom’s voice as he reads the letter, recognizes her handwriting in all its fancy loops and swirls. She tells Jack in the letter that she has been hiding a secret from him for years and doesn’t have the guts to tell him in person. Tim skims, tries to pick apart his mom’s long-winded explanations about living in fear of being found out, of the shame that followed her every day.

Tim can’t even begin to guess what she could be talking about until finally he sees it, clear as day in black ink.

Timothy isn’t your son.

Mom is dead. Dad is in a coma. Bruce is...here.

Tim is still getting used to the idea of a parental figure sticking with him for longer than a few weeks at a time. He keeps waiting for Bruce to turn a corner and disappear without a trace like he should, but it never happens. He stays by Tim’s side, offering support that Tim wasn’t even aware could be offered. It’s different, but it’s a good different. Tim only wishes that could be enough to wash away the grief. He takes it one day at a time, bit by bit, if only to keep himself from looking too far ahead and seeing the sea of loneliness waiting for him in the case that his dad never wakes up. Today he dedicates himself to handling his parents’ finances, sifting through the mess they left in the hands of their thirteen-year-old son. It’s eerie being in his dad’s office now, like he’s entering a tomb. Tim is searching for his parents’ insurance documents so he can get that dealt with and out of the way, then move on to the next project. Whatever takes his mind off of it all. It’s hard enough seeing his dad lying in that hospital bed every day, looking dead but not quite getting there yet. Tim opens the next filing cabinet, grabbing another stack of files and opening the first folder, only for an envelope to fall out. It’s not like the others, otherwise Tim would have put it back and disregarded it altogether. But this one is not a clean white envelope you would find in any office. This one is made of thick paper, yellowing at the edges with swirl patterns on the flap. Jack, don’t open this until I’m dead, it says in Tim’s mother’s handwriting.

Dad clearly didn’t obey orders (what else is new?) because the envelope has already been torn open. It’s crumpled at the corners, creased in places it shouldn’t be, as if Dad was angry when he stuffed the contents back into the envelope and locked it away in this cabinet. Tim’s first instinct is to read it. After all, Janet Drake is dead. She’s not here to scold Tim for going through what isn’t his, but that is precisely what stops him from opening the letter. This is from his mother—his mother who is now dead. And his dad is in a coma. Poking into their business...it feels wrong. No matter how curious Tim is, he can’t desecrate this letter. So he tucks the envelope into his pocket, careful not to wrinkle it. He can’t imagine what the letter must be about, but that isn’t very surprising. Despite being their son, Tim didn’t know Janet and Jack Drake any better than he’d know a gym coach or one of the housekeepers. He knew everything about their company and their lifestyles, but he never got more than a glimpse into who they truly were. Not until it was too late. The closest Tim would ever get to bonding with his parents were the rare nights on which Mom and Dad would sit with Tim on the sofa, watching Pixar movies until he fell asleep. Those were his favorite memories of his parents: his dad calling him “champ” and talking endlessly about the movies’ animation styles, Mom with her hair down and her makeup washed off, for once not caring about her appearance. Tim doesn’t know what the letter could possibly be about, but curiosity is a persistent thing. Days click by, switching off into nights in an endless cycle. Dad doesn’t wake from the coma. Tim isn’t sure if he ever will. Dick and Bruce hover around him like house flies, waiting for some kind of ball to drop. Maybe for Tim to break down, to cry, to mourn the ending of his world. Instead, all Tim can do is wonder about the letter. If it was so important, Tim would already know whatever it was, right? Maybe it’s a copy of his mom’s will. Maybe it’s a map to a collection of buried treasure that she never told anyone about. Maybe it’s a confession that she was secretly a supervillain and all of those trips she and Dad took were actually with the intention to rob every bank across the eastern seaboard. Tim keeps the letter buried under piles of school papers in his desk drawer, but it might as well be sending out a signal to him every minute, reminding him of its presence. He falls asleep night after night in his temporary room at the manor, listening to the letter rattle around in its drawer like a tell-tale heart. What does it say? What secret was his mother hiding? Is it about Tim? Is it about her past? Will it unlock some family conspiracy? Tim makes it almost a month resisting the siren’s call before he can’t take it any longer. He climbs out of bed one night, the floor cold on his bare feet. He grabs the letter from its hiding place and jumps back into bed where the shadows’ tendrils can’t reach. He pulls his blanket over his head, a shiver running down his spine as he clicks on his flashlight and sets the beam on the letter. He can feel the walls watching him, witnessing this desecration of his dead mother’s written crypt. These are the last words he will ever get from her. Tim opens the letter. He recognizes his mother’s stationery, the flower patterns at the top. Back when he was younger, Tim used to spin around in his mom’s desk chair and ask why she had special paper with her name on it. “Because important people like to stand out in their letters,” she’d say. “Why can’t you just use regular paper?” “Because regular paper doesn’t have your name at the top. You can’t feel official if you’re not using official stationery.” Tim thought about that as he spun. “You can if you write it in yourself. All you need is some crayons.” His mom chuckled and ruffled his hair. “I suppose you could do that too.” He can hear his mom’s voice as he reads the letter, recognizes her handwriting in all its fancy loops and swirls. She tells Jack in the letter that she has been hiding a secret from him for years and doesn’t have the guts to tell him in person. Tim skims, tries to pick apart his mom’s long-winded explanations about living in fear of being found out, of the shame that followed her every day. Tim can’t even begin to guess what she could be talking about until finally he sees it, clear as day in black ink. Timothy isn’t your son. He stops. Rereads the sentence. Then again. And again, trying to tempt the words into making some sort of sense. Tim doesn’t know how long he spends staring at those four words, his eyes glazed, before he tentatively starts reading again. Janet talks about how guilty she feels for not confessing this earlier, how she doesn’t want Tim to find out, how sorry she is that Tim isn’t the son Jack wanted him to be. That she disappointed him by giving him Tim instead of the “correct” child. Tim is going to be sick. He throws off the blanket and goes to the gas fireplace across the room, turning it on. He crumples up the letter and throws it in without a second’s hesitation. He watches it catch fire, the flames blackening the corners as they eat away at the letter until it’s no more than ash. This can’t be real, he tells himself. It can’t be. His dad… He knew. Dad knew all this time. They both did. Tim has been walking around, thinking he knew exactly who he was and where he came from. Writing his dad’s name on school forms and calling himself Tim Drake when he’s not even a Drake. Not biologically. How could they hide this from him? Did it never occur to them that Tim should know this kind of vital information? That it might literally reconfigure his entire life? Tim sits there on the rug, staring at the fireplace as the walls crumble around him. He can’t believe they kept this from him. Who doesn’t tell their own son that his genetics aren’t what he thinks they are? That somewhere in the world, there is a person walking around who has no idea he’s got a son somewhere. He probably doesn’t even know that Tim exists. The more Tim thinks about it though, the more it makes an odd sort of sense. His parents have always been distant, always treated Tim like they expected something different every time they looked at him. Like he was so entirely Other that they couldn’t help but be disappointed, no matter what he did or how hard he tried to get them to love him the way other kids’ parents did. He wonders when Jack found the letter. Was it given to him with instructions, or did he stumble upon it one day in Janet’s office? Did he confront her right away, or did he wait a while? Tim thinks back to three years ago when their marriage took its first sudden dip, as if they hit a wall out of nowhere. Could this have been the cause all along? Three years since the secret came out. Three years of arguments bordered by stony silences, flipping back and forth between moods whenever they weren’t on yet another long trip, trying to salvage a failing marriage. Tim used to assume it was his fault that his parents were never home—maybe there was something wrong with him that they didn’t want to see. Now it all makes sense. Jack has never acted like much of a father to Tim in the first place, as if he’s subconsciously known all along that there was something dividing him from his son. Because there was something dividing them, something deep in their DNA. Which, of course, begs the question: If Jack isn’t Tim’s father, who is? Parts of the letter were ripped, the ink smudged in places from what must have been scars of Jack’s anger at finding out his family was built on a lie. If Janet did divulge who Tim’s biological father is, Tim couldn’t find it in the letter. There are only two people in the world who can give Tim the answers he needs, and one of them is dead. The other one is close behind. He’s stuck in limbo. The days after the revelation pass in a haze. A haze of astonishment, silent questions, answers he needs but may never get. Tim keeps waiting for the universe to shift, because he just found out information that changes everything he thought was true about himself. He should be feeling something, right? Maybe it’s because he and his dad never had a real relationship anyway, so there’s nothing to mourn. There’s no deciding moment of what does this change? because there's nothing to change. He and Jack have been living separate lives for a long time now. This revelation just cements something Tim has known for years. He never had a father before. Why should it change anything that he still doesn’t have one now?

[Read the rest on AO3 because this one got kinda long.]

[starlitfaery]

Drabbles :: On the Events leading up to the Accident

A selection of drabbles set in my universe where Ken and Osamu are twins, focusing on his relationship with four important people in his life.

---------

Osamu

They met in the womb.

They shared everything but their names for the first half of their lives. They were happy, cheerful. Osamu worried over Ken at first, because he saw their parents worry and copied them, learning how to worry. At the time when they were still treated more or less the same, there was one thing that separated them.

Ken was the smaller twin.

Yes, like all twins, they were premature, but for a while, Ken was the one that no one thought would make it.

He was just

so

small.

He went to the doctor’s often enough that he even made a friend that was also frequently there.

Their first day of school, Osamu went and Ken was taken for another checkup. Just in case. That’s about when everything started going wrong.

The teachers noticed that Osamu was more than just advanced for his age (a fact that their parents had barely noticed at home), he was simply genius. Everyone started fawning over him, asking questions.

“What’s it like to be the smartest boy in the country?”

“What do you think you’ll be when you grow up?”

“You’re so smart, I’m sure you’ll solve this nation’s problems by the time you leave high school, right?”

And it was

fine.

It was fine.

Ken got it, he understood. He wasn’t actually sick anymore, just the occasional relapse. So of course his parents focused on the good news instead of the bad news that he would always have problems. Of course his parents throw their love to just the elder twin. Ken was alive and the doctors were no longer worried he could die.

So now Osamu got everything. Because there would be plenty time to give Ken love and affection once the cloud of fame passed.

They were just happy he was living. No other accomplishment Ken did mattered, especially if Osamu did it first.

That’s just how life was now and Ken would have to deal with it.

---------

Kouichi (& Kouji)

They met in the hospital.

He doesn't know exactly how old they were. He just knew that one second he was crying from being away from his mother. And the next, two identical faces were peering at his through the glass, a chair has been propped up next to it.

The three children put their hands on the glass, making faces at each other and smiling. None of them were good at words yet at all, but they managed with whatever words they knew best.

Then a tired nurse noticed the interlopers and quickly corralled them back to their mother, leaving Ken alone again, but much happier than before.

The next time he saw that face, there was only one and he managed to introduce himself as Kouichi (or, well, Ko'chi). And the other half of that pair was struck from his mind as Ken believed it had always only been just Kouichi.

They were fast friends. Sure Ken was stuck to whatever room the nurses put him in for the day, but when they realized that the two children were friends, they always made sure to bring Kouichi around.

One day, Ken remembered asking why another kid was in the hospital. Because he was so used to hearing adults say how sad it was that a child was sick. Part of him had begun to wonder if normally only adults got sick.

"Mama works here, and Grammy can't always watch me, so Mama brings me here and then I get to play with you!"

It was so simple.

Osamu was introduced to Kouichi the one time the older twin came with Ken to an appointment, introducing Kouichi to the world of twins.

And so they continued to spend their childhoods within sterile walls, beside a friend they knew they could count on.

They really should have traded phone numbers at one point or another.

---------

Miyako

They met in the schoolyard.

They weren't in the same class, much less the same year, but they were about the same size at the time. And when some cruel older kids thought they could pick on the scrawny kid, they ended up having to deal with both him and a helpful passerby that was happy to introduce herself to him.

Ken remembered his manners while covered in scratches and dirt, bowed his head, gave his first name and offered his thanks.

Then he ran away from her.

She spent a week looking everywhere for him in her year but never thought to ask the older kids.

She sat on the counter in her family's mart, swinging her legs over the ledge, and complained about this very annoying fact of her new school life to her parents who made sure to hum thoughtfully in all the right places.

Then Ken walked in with his twin and their mother and suddenly everything made sense.

She happily talked his ear off while his mother shopped and his brother gave her strange looks.

She stopped looking for him at school when he quietly mentioned that he tries not to stick out too much and just spends his free time at school near a teacher since then.

Of course, that just meant that every time the twins came by to buy this or that, she would talk his ear off while shopping instead.

Osamu never seemed to warm up to her but she lived for those small smiles Ken would give her when she told a particularly funny story.

---------

Ryou

They met in the classroom.

Ryou wasn't from Tokyo proper, and if the rumors and names the older kids called him were true, then Ryou wasn't even from Japan. But that didn't stop him at all.

Ryou walked into the classroom, giant smile on his face, introduced himself in pitch perfect proper Japanese, and immediately started chatting with Osamu, his deskmate.

Ken would watch them. See Osamu's lessening frown and Ryou's softening smile, and wonder how they could possibly act like they had just met when it was so obvious they must have known each other before.

It turned out they met in a chatroom for some computer nerds in grade school still.

Osamu wasn't even supposed to be on any of those chatrooms, their parents had explicitly forbid it for either twin.

When the teacher assigned a partnered project, Osamu of course allowed to work alone due to the assumption no one else would actually have anything to contribute to him, Ryou looked around before his eyes landed on Ken and he said he would work with him.

They ended up doing their projects at the Ichijouji house, Osamu still having a mild streak of protectiveness and not wanting Ken to be at some random person's house or be forced to walk home alone.

Their friendship never truly kindled until the time Ryou dropped by unexpectedly to pick up a left-behind textbook and they were pulled into the digital world.

There they had no choice but to become friends and partners in a war for a world that wasn't their own. Placing trust in someone that needed to have your back or else you could never go home.

---------

And so

Time would pass.

Ken would slowly get angry at this twin, wishing for his demise and not understanding why he couldn't just get a scrape of affection again from their parents.

Ken would be there for Kouichi when his grandmother would get sick, but when she died, Ken would be nowhere in sight, too busy dealing with his own dose of death and trauma.

Ken would distance himself from her once the accident happened, unable to bear seeing the street where he lost his twin without falling into a panic attack.

Ken would forget everything that happened in the digital world, believing it to be a fantasy he came up with after watching his brother and Ryou get close, a fantasy he made up when he relapsed.

Because that's what everyone believed when Ken, who had been happy and healthy one moment, suddenly became feverish, claiming pain where no one saw anything.

Osamu would worry quietly, wondering what happened to Ryou, but more worried about the stories on Ken's lips.

Kouichi would be alone as his grandmother told him he wasn't alone, he had a twin named Kouji that was taken away from him.

Miyako would tap her fingers on the counter of i-Mart, wondering why she had the worst feeling weighing down her heart.

Ryou would be gone, soon if not yet, learning that his enemy was meant to be his partner, torn between duty and what felt right.

Then the fever passed and Ken could stay awake for longer than a half hour at a time, could walk around with barely any help, could leave the hospital.

By this time, Ryou is officially gone from this universe, the memories of everyone that knew him slowly being adjusted to be a world where had never existed.

Osamu clung to fading memories even as he took Ken on a walk to the i-Mart, not noticing the truck until it was too late.

Miyako had been at the counter again, feeling dread in her heart she had raced to the door once she heard a terrifying sound, then she screamed for her parents and they brought her and Ken inside and wrapped them in blankets as they called the ambulance.

Elsewhere, Kouichi had known Ken was in the hospital, but he hadn't been allowed to see him, so he missed the memo that his friend had left, and instead focused on his new quest to find his own twin brother.

[ofstarsandfireflies]

You guys knew I was going to do this movie 😁

The notebook

Two people who truly love another are torn from each other. Years later, they find one another again.

Tony was eighteen and on holiday in South Carolina with his family when he first met Stephen Strange.

And his first impression wasn’t a good one when he pushed and shoved his way into Tony’s life, especially when he only did so to ask him on a date when he was already on one.

Saying no to this stranger didn’t make Stephen give up, no matter how many times or ways Tony tried saying it.

Even after initially agreeing just to turn around and say he changed his mind, Stephen still managed to con him into a date.

And Tony doesn’t know how he fell for it.

Or how he first begins to fall for Stephen.

Or even how they manage to stay together for as long as they do.

They would fight and argue and then kiss and make up only to find something else to argue about almost immediately afterwards all in the space of a single day, and to anyone else looking in, this relationship wasn’t going to last, but to them, it’s pretty much what they do.

And they love how the other can match their intellect, Tony’s coming from his years of schooling and tutoring and Stephen’s from the books he’s read in the library seemingnhow he can’t really afford to buy them.

They spend the days together when Stephen isn’t working, the nights together when Tony can get away, and when his parents find out Tony is dating a nobody, his mother wants to let it run its course while his father wants to end it, embarrassed how his son would choose someone beneath his class.

But Tony doesn’t care.

His parents might get a say in what school he attends, but they have no right to tell him who he gets to love.

Stephen doesn’t tell him how he should act or talk.

Stephen doesn’t dictate what he should or shouldn’t do.

Stephen wants him to be happy.

And Stephen loves Tony for Tony, not for his money.

And he’s serious about that love, taking Tony to a rundown old house by the riverside that’s his dream to rebuild.

Tony decides he wants in on this dream, stating he wants the house to be white with blue shutters.

Stephen promises, and the hours pass under a soft blanket as they explore each other’s bodies.

Mordo decides in that moment to come bursting in on them, telling them Tony’s parents have the police looking for him.

Outraged by his lack of freedom, Tony gets in an argument with his parents when Stephen takes him home.

The words exchanged between Tony and his father become so loud that Stephen can hear every nasty thing the man has to say about him while Tony is trying to defend him.

He knows he isn’t good enough for Tony.

He knows he can’t afford the nice things Tony is used to like the expensive clothes and meals.

He knows Tony deserves someone who can provide all those things.

But Stephen doesn’t want to break up with him either.

He loves him.

No one could ever replace him, nothing will ever change the way he feels about him, but he knows it’s for the best.

It’s just a summer romance after all.

Tony will be leaving at the end of it anyway.

But when he tells this to Tony, all he gets in return is anger and hurt, Tony taking upon himself to break them up seeming how that’s what Stephen wants, and tells him to just leave.

The next day, Tony finds out he and the family are going back home.

Needing to tell Stephen he still loves him, he races to Stephen’s place of work, but finds Mordo instead, who tells him Stephen is out.

Mordo tries to tell him it’s over, but Tony won’t hear it unless it’s from Stephen’s own mouth.

They just had a fight, like they always do.

It isn’t over.

Mordo leaves him with the hope that if Stephen wants to talk to him, then he’ll write him, and agrees to give Stephen Tony’s message that he still loves him.

And just like that, Tony is gone.

And Stephen doesn’t get to say goodbye.

So he takes Mordo’s advice and writes to Tony every day for a year, receiving no reply back.

With a heavy heart, Stephen writes the last letter as a farewell to Tony and the love they shared, sends it off, and buys the house he’d wanted to rebuild for him and Tony to live in.

Maybe if he can get it done, if he can finish it, then Tony would come back to him.

Tony is trying to get on with his life too.

In his third year of college, he meets Captain Steve Rogers, who wants to take him out on a date.

He’s a perfect match for him in every sense of the word.

Even Tony’s parents approve of him, something Tony never thought would happen.

And the night Steve proposes to him, two things happen.

Tony says yes.

And Stephen, having completed his house and gone to get very drunk because he still misses Tony, is in a terrible car accident that renders his hands useless to him.

The hands which held the books he could converse with Tony about, which built Tony’s house and wrote 365 letters, can do nothing now but cause him even more pain that his life already was.

By the time Stephen has been discharged from the hospital, word of his accident has reached the bigger newspaper companies, which publish a small article about how he survived somehow.

And Tony reads it, instantly feeling the pull to go to his side.

Even if Stephen turns him away, or they get into a bigger fight than the one they never got to reconcile, Tony has to go to him.

Steve doesn’t want to keep Tony from doing what he wants to do when he mentions about getting away for a while, and he doesn’t pry into the reason for this sudden decision.

Simply tells him to go do whatever he needs to do.

So Tony leaves.

He drives all the way to the house and stares at it.

It’s white.

Completely white except for the shutters, which are a beautiful blue.

Just like he wanted all those years ago.

Stephen hears Tony’s car and is stunned to see him standing there.

Tony’s just as stunned to see him, heart racing in his throat and causing his mind to go blank on everything he wanted to say.

They tiptoe around the uncomfortable situation they each find themselves in until Tony tries to offer his help around the place.

Remarkably, Stephen doesn’t push him away like he had with so many others.

No matter how much he wants to, he just can’t do that.

Not when all those feelings he knew were true seven years ago are buzzing through his veins.

The night wears on as they talk and drink and try to be friends and soon Tony is saying he should go.

So Stephen invites him around again tomorrow.

And Tony takes him up on that offer before he drives back to the hotel, making it back to his room in time to answer the phone, half expecting it to be Stephen.

Except, it’s Steve wanting to know where he’s been and what he did for the day.

Tony can’t answer him.

The next day when Tony arrives at the house, Stephen wants to show him the hiking trail he managed to clear up, and the deer that have no issues with being hand fed and petted, which Tony enjoys quite a bit until they hear thunder rolling in the distance.

They barley make it half way back when the rain comes down, soaking them to the bone.

And Tony can’t keep it in any longer.

Why would Stephen keep his promise about the house to him after all these years but not write to him?

Stephen tells him the truth. That he wrote him 365 letters.

With the truth out, Stephen isn’t letting Tony get away from him a second time.

And things are perfect.

Perfectly perfect.

So perfect that it’s too good to last.

With Tony spending every day and night with Stephen, he isn’t there to answer Steve’s calls, who goes to Tony’s parents for answers.

And learns about Stephen Strange.

Howard gets to Tony before Steve does and tries to talk some sense into his son, but decides instead to let Tony choose.

And Tony can’t.

No matter who he chooses, someone will get hurt because of him.

Stephen doesn’t want to lose him again but he also wants Tony to decide what he wants.

Not what Stephen wants, or what Steve wants or what his parents want, but what Tony wants.

And what Tony wants is Stephen.

Quotes

“Now, will you go out with me?”

“What? No.”

“No?”

“No!”

“No?”

“Hey pal, she just told you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, because I don’t want to.”

Stephen’s not taking no for an answer.

“Now, he is a nice boy. He’s a nice boy but he’s...”

“He’s what? He’s what? Tell me!”

“He is trash, trash, trash! Not for you!”

“Trash?!”

Howard and Tony fighting about Stephen.

“Why didn’t you write me? Why? It wasn’t over for me! I waited for you for seven years. And now it’s too late.”

“I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year.”

“You wrote me?”

“Yes!”

“You...”

“It wasn’t over. It still isn’t over!”

I love kiss scenes in the rain and our boys deserve one damn it!

“You’re bored. You’re bored and you know it. You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t something missing!”

“You arrogant son of a bitch!”

“Would you just stay with me?”

“Stay with you?! What for? Look at us , we’re already fighting!”

“Well, that’s what we do! We fight! You tell me when I’m being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you’re being a pain in the ass! Which you are! 99% of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. They have like a two second rebound rate and you’re back doing the next pain in the ass thing.”

“So what?”

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It gonna be really hard. And we’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I wanna do that, because I want you. I want all of you. Forever. You and me. Every day.”

You guys know I adore this scene.

Just Stay With Me -

At the age of eighteen, Stephen and Tony meet and fall into a summer romance.

Seven years later, Stephen and Tony meet and fall into a life long romance.

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5

Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9 Day 10

Day 11

[merakiaes]

Teardrop Tattoo - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: By @ugh-jalynn​

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: This one-shot is loosely based around the song “Coffin” by Jessie Reyes. It’s a bit angsty but nothing too bad. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes and as usual, translations are at the end. 

Wordcount: 3940

Summary: Relationships aren’t always a dance on roses, especially not when you’re dating a Santo. But in the end, you pull through, because you’d rather die than live without each other. 

Your mother had made sure to teach you very early in life that no relationship was a dance on roses, that when you and your significant other fought, it was important to remember that it was never you versus each other but rather the two of you versus the problem and that whenever you found yourself in an argument, it was important that you stayed on the same page and solved the problem together.

But it was easier said than done when the time came that you actually found yourself in a situation in which you needed to follow her wise words; especially when you found yourself in said situation pretty much every day.

You had known what you were getting into when you first decided to start dating a Santo; you had known that it wouldn’t be easy.

But things were getting out of hand and you didn’t know what to do anymore. 

You had been fighting non-stop over the past few weeks.

You fought until the sun rose and by the time the two of you went about your days and your jobs, neither of you had been to bed, running on little to no sleep which was not a very good combination with the already existing tension and the fact that both of your professions required that you didn’t lose focus.

Money was tight for the two of you so you had been taking on extra shifts at the hospital all while he and Spooky were being worked to the bone by Cuchillos to clean up the mess Cesar had left behind with the Prophets.

You were both stressed, sleep-deprived, easily vexed, barely got to see each other and in all your angry glory, you blamed it on each other even though deep down, both of you knew it was only a matter of bad timing.  

But lately, it had started feeling like he was purposely avoiding you. You had been trying to spend time with him and he just came up with excuses as to why he couldn’t, every time.

He would tell you he was being sent out on a run or that he needed to take care of something for the Santos, and then when you would go out with your friends to distract yourself from the stress, you would find him drinking and laughing the night away at the same parties.

It wasn’t a big deal that it happened one time, but you were ashamed to say that it had happened more than once, and even more ashamed to admit that all of the fighting was making you doubt his loyalty to you.

At this point, you were living in a constant, never-ending, dark circle. 

You would fight and then one of you would take the step to apologize and reach your hand out to the one who was still drowning in anger. 

But when doing so, every time, the other wouldn’t be ready to let the argument go and pull the other down with them right back under the surface again.

And so it kept going, over and over again, almost like clockwork. 

You had reached the point where you didn’t know what to do to save your relationship anymore, or whether or not it was even possible in the first place. 

You were like water mixed with oil, a disaster just waiting to happen and a lethal mix always on the verge of exploding.

You were so angry at each other all the time that you rarely even remembered why you were mad in the first place and you found yourself at your wit’s end, constantly torn between your mother’s many life-advice.

On one hand, she had taught you not to give up on the people you loved, to be patient and work hard to keep your relationship together, even when it seemed like there was no hope.

But on the other hand, she had also taught you that people make time for those they care about. No bullshit. No excuses. No broken promises or false hopes for the future.

If someone was into you, you wouldn’t have to keep begging them for a text, call or quality time together. They’d take the initiative, themselves, if you were a priority.

She taught you that no person would ever be busier than someone who wasn’t interested in you and lately, Sad Eyes had been awfully busy and all the things he claimed to be busy with always turned out to be made-up.

All of it had made you so exhausted that you could barely bring yourself to be angry anymore. You were just… sad.

You were sad when you stared at your boyfriend of two years from your spot in the doorway, eyes following his every move as he moved around the room, getting dressed after his shower.

“What’s going on with you lately?” Your voice came out as a mere whisper, your cheek leaning against the doorframe and your eyebrows creasing together. “I barely even recognize you anymore…”

He didn’t even look up at you, putting all of his focus into turning his inside-out tank-top back out. “Yeah? You and me both.” He muttered simply, pulling the tank-top over his head and then wordlessly turning his back to you to put on his navy blue button-up over it.

Your jaw tensed and a breath left your nose in annoyance, but you kept your calm and pushed yourself off the doorframe, taking a step into the room and crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him put his golden chain back on.

“Don’t try to shut me out like that.” You told him sternly, shaking your head and glaring into the side of his face. “I’ve been here from day one. I know things have been tense between us for a long time now but this… This is something else entirely and I deserve an explanation.”

He turned around to face you, but he avoided you like you were the plague, walking right past you and out of your shared bedroom. “I need some time to think. I’ll be home later.”

You wasted no time uncrossing your arms and turning around to hurry after him, barely even able to keep up with his long, urgent strides. He was obviously in a hurry to get out of there, just like every day these past week and a half.

“Yeah, you’ve been needing a lot of time to think lately.” You scoffed at him as you jogged after him, managing to slide your body in between him and the front door right before he could grab the door handle.

For the first time since coming home the hour before, he had no other choice but to look at you, his eyes meeting yours and watching as your face pulled into a frown.

“Do you not want to be with me anymore? Is that it?” You asked quietly. “Are you tired of me? Do you not love me anymore? If that’s the case then I’d rather you just put me out of my misery now because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t-“

You cut yourself off, tearing your eyes away from his as a sudden wave of sadness overcame you. 

Above you, his cold eyes flickered with emotion at the sight as you continued. “I can’t walk around and pretend like everything’s fine when in reality, I’m mourning you even though you’re not even gone.”

A heavy silence fell over you, the only thing being heard being the clock in the kitchen and the various sounds of people going about their days outside on the block.

You kept staring into the floorboards under your feet for another good half minute before you felt a warm hand come up to touch your face, Sad Eyes’ fingers catching your chin and lifting your head up to look at him again.

He stared down at you, moving his hand from your chin to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. Then, he leaned his head down to yours and kissed you.

It was short, but it was more affection than you had gotten for a week so it was very well-appreciated nonetheless, succeeding in making you a bit happier, even if it was just a little.

“I love you and I want to be with you, none of that has changed.” He told you when you broke back apart, caressing your cheek just for a second longer before dropping his hand back to his side and taking a step back. “I just need to do a run for Spooky and then I’ll be back.”

And just like that, the bitterness returned to your body in a wave, just as quickly as it had gone away. “Yeah, it’s always runs for Spooky.” You muttered, looking to the side.

His hand reached out to take a hold of yours, causing you to look back up at him almost instantly. “I’ll be back before the hour is up.” He told you and you gave him a doubtful look.

“Do you promise?” You asked, and he nodded, eyebrows furrowing together slightly.

“Tienes mi palabra.” He nodded.

But he never came home.

An hour passed, and then two, three and four with no sign of him, leaving you home alone to nurse yourself back to a mediocre, temporary happiness with a movie from the hurt caused by yet another broken promise.

It had been around six in the afternoon when he had left the house and by the time the front door opened again, the clock on your nightside table was closing in on midnight.

You had kept occupying yourself with movies for the first two hours but after that you had turned off the TV, unable to concentrate any longer and breaking down in your bed.

After quite literally crying your eyes out, you fell asleep for… well, you didn’t really know how long and you didn’t have the energy to do the math, and then you had just laid there staring into your phone while you absentmindedly scrolled through your social media.

When you heard the front door unlocking and opening you looked up from the phone, listening intently to get an idea of what he was doing.

The sound of a bang reached your ears shortly after the front door had slammed shut again, followed by a string of hushed, Spanish curses and you instantly prepared for what was to come, sadly enough used enough to it to have it all down as a routine by now.

You locked your phone, putting it to the side and sitting up in bed to the sound of his footsteps closing in on your bedroom, watching as he stumbled through the doorway a few seconds later.

He was still cursing quietly under his breath, his eyes obviously not used to the dark yet judging by the way he was fumbling and stumbling around. But then again, that could have just been a result of the alcohol he had obviously consumed.

The mere thought of it caused your face to pull into a glare and your arms to cross over your chest. 

“Have you been out drinking again?” You asked before you could stop yourself, and watched as he near jumped out of his skin.

He obviously hadn’t noticed that you were awake up until then and you’d caught him by surprise by breaking the silence, causing his stumbling to become even clumsier.

But rather than turning to face you, he seemed to do the exact opposite, turning away from you so quickly you instantly turned suspicious.

“I’m not drunk.” He answered back bitterly, and you hummed in disapproval.

His voice wasn’t slurring so he was obviously telling the truth, but it was groggy, indicating that he had in fact been drinking. And the smell of beer only proved it, scent so strong he might as well have spilled an entire bottle over himself.

And what did you know, maybe he had. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.

“You’re not sober, either. I can smell it on you all the way from here.” You pointed out, watching his every move with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You told me you were just going on a run. You promised me you would come back home afterward. We don’t break promises.”

Your eyes squinted even further when taking note of how he was excessively avoiding turning to look at you and when he grabbed a pillow from his side of the bed, your body reacted almost as if out of instinct, moving out of the bed to stand.

“What are you doing?” You asked, rounding the bed as quickly as your legs could take you when he began walking out of the room again, pillow now clutched tightly in his hand.

“I’m sleeping on the couch.” He muttered back simply, not even sparing you a glance.

Your face pulled into a glare and you quickly rushed up in front of him, forcing him to come to a stop in order to not walk straight into you. 

“No, you’re not.” You glared, trying to get his eyes to meet yours but you couldn’t even get a look of his face with how quickly he had walked around you again.

“I need to be alone right now.” He kept arguing with you and that’s when you snapped.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, give me the fucking pillow!” You exclaimed, getting in his way again and reaching out to grab the pillow, tearing it out of his grasp with one, sharp tug and in turn, he slipped up, whipping his head around to face you with a glare equally as fierce as yours.

"I’m fucking tired and I want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for now, too?!" He yelled back, but his words barely even progressed in your brain, your eyes widening as you were finally able to see his face.

It was like all of the air left your lungs in that one moment, leaving you breathless and unable to progress anything around you.

All you could see, all you could think about, was the black teardrop now inked into the tan skin underneath his eye, the edges around the small tattoo still red and showing cleared just how freshly executed it was.

You had always been scared for him, the worry coming naturally with him being a gang-member and always being on the run from the law and the Prophets. But never, not ever, had you been this scared.

He avoided your wide, fear-struck eyes like his life depended on it, looking behind you into empty space, but now that the cat was out the bag, he made no move to further hide the reason for his previous avoidance.

"I thought you were just doing runs." You managed to get out through the thickness of your throat, swallowing in an attempt to calm your rapidly growing panic.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, too, his jaw tensing and his eyes glaring over your shoulder. "It’s never just anything with Cuchillos.” He answered lowly. “Shit’s been hectic with the Prophets lately. We needed to take care of it, keep the block safe."

"Baby..." You gave him a sad look, dropping the pillow onto the couch beside you and slowly reaching your hand out to grab his.

He ripped it out of your grasp in one swift movement to a start but you didn’t give up, reaching out for it again and this time around, he did nothing to stop you.

Slowly and cautiously, you took a step forward, and then another and then a third, pressing your chest against his and reaching your arms up to wrap them around his neck and by doing so pulling his face into your shoulder.

In turn, his arms slowly wrapped around your waist and he pressed his face harder into your neck.

His beard tickled your skin uncomfortably but you forced yourself to ignore the prickly feeling, holding him close and furrowing your eyebrows in thought as you came to the realization that his angry, snappy behavior suddenly made sense.

When he made a mistake, he knew it, felt it, tore himself apart about it. He lost sleep, didn’t stop thinking about it and beat himself up about it to the point where he would be on the verge of losing his sanity completely.

You didn’t know how you hadn’t seen the signs before but now that the cards were out on the table, it was all so insanely clear.

Sad Eyes had never been like the other Santo cholos.

Had he grown up poor with worse privileges and fewer opportunities than others? Yeah, everyone in Freeridge had. But despite all that, he had lived a good life.

He had a loving mother, two sisters that he adored to bits and pieces and up until his passing when he was seventeen, he’d had a good, solid father-son relationship with his dad.

He didn’t have a traumatic childhood with absent parents like Oscar and so many other Santos had. He wasn’t in the Santos because he had a legacy or family crest to live up to, or because he was roped in against his will.

The brotherhood, the strong bond of loyalty between ride or die brothers and the sense of belonging somewhere; of, despite all the laws being broken in the process, doing something good and being able to protect those he cared about, it was all the life he, himself, had chosen.

The law had never done anything to help him or his family when the governmental system had failed them so he didn’t give two flying fucks about whether he lived on the good or the bad side of the lawbook.

But still, he was so sincere, so gentle and so loving. He didn't mind robbing a bank or dealing drugs, but you knew he'd never really liked the violence that came with it.

The beatings he was sent out to do when someone disrupted the Santos’ plans, the beatings he'd been forced to sit through every time someone new was being jumped in… He didn't like it at all but it was out of his control and he had no other choice but to follow orders.

The only thing he did have control over was his killing count. He had never taken another man's life and he found great comfort in it, even if he would never admit that kind of vulnerability out loud.

But now that was out of his control, too, and you knew that now more than ever, you needed to follow your mother’s advice and put your differences aside in order to be there for him, hold up your end of the promise and stay by his side for as long as he wanted you to, forever and always.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much you fought, he never let you go to sleep wondering if you still mattered and you would be caught dead before you did that to him, too.

You might have been a fool for falling for a Santo in the first place but you loved him to death. You would rather lay lifeless and rot away in a coffin six feet underground than live without him, and if he was, against all odds, the first one to go, the coffin better have been made for two, because if he jumped, you jumped.

You had been in this shit together since the start, and no matter how severe of a crime committed on his part, that would never change.

But he was obviously expecting you to end it right then and there judging by the way he was standing, breathing, squeezing his hands shut at his sides and glaring into something further away in the room when you broke apart from the embrace, which only broke you heart even further.

You slowly raised a hand up to his jaw, watching as his eyes fell shut at the feeling of your touch, and supported the weight of his head when he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You whispered, and he let out a deep breath through his nose, his hands squeezing down at your sides.

“I didn’t want to scare you away.” He muttered back, his voice coming out low. “You’re the best thing I’ve got going in my life, even with all of the shit that’s been going on. I couldn’t lose you.”

Your heart tugged in your chest at his words and you swallowed, looking down. “When… when did you-“

“Last week.” He replied without missing a beat and you nodded.

“And that’s why you’ve been-“

“Yeah.”

Your eyes flickered back up to his to find that he was now looking at you with eyes full of regret. 

“I’m sorry.” He looked at you somberly and you instantly started shaking your head, raising your other hand to his other cheek.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Good people sometimes make bad decisions, whether it be by their own choice or by having it pushed upon them.” You assured him, turning your head down to hold his gaze when he attempted to break it. “They mess up and they let others down, but that doesn’t make them bad people. We all make mistakes, we all have flaws, it’s what makes us human, so don’t let one mistake ruin a beautiful thing. You know I’d stay by your side no matter what, so don’t push me away. Please.”

He stared intently at you as you spoke, the expression on his face unreadable. But he said nothing, so you continued, caressing his face soothingly .

“I can’t promise you a perfect relationship without arguments and differences but I can promise you as long as you’re trying, I’m staying. No matter what happens, no matter how deep you get caught up with the Santos. The only thing that could make me leave you is if I’m dead and even then, I know I’d find you, somehow, somewhere.”

You paused briefly, taking note of the way he tensed up when your touch neared the teardrop under his eye.

But he quickly relaxed again when you brought your hand down from his face to instead grab his hand, your lips tugging up in a small smile. “You’re my ride or die, remember?”

A moment of silence fell over you, the two of you just staring into each other’s eyes. And then he nodded, squeezing your hand back and leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. “And you’re mine.”

You nodded, mustering a small smile of comfort. And then you leaned your cheek against his chest, hugging him close and letting him do the same to you.

Your mother’s advice and words of wisdom had taken you so far in life but something she hadn’t mentioned was that sometimes, two people had to fall apart to realize how much they need to fall back together.

You’d had to learn that lesson all on your own and now that you had, it was going to be so much easier for you to handle everything that was going on, knowing that you would be able to get through any obstacle as long as you were together.

Come tomorrow morning, you would start fresh, and even if that turned out not to be possible with everything now obviously being about to change, you wouldn’t even consider leaving him.

You would rather live a miserable life full of crime with him than a miserable, safe life without him, because at the end of the day, he was your ride or die and you were his, as you had been ever since you first met.

Nothing was going to change that, especially not a stupid teardrop tattoo.

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

Tienes mi palabra – You have my word

Tagged: @babienay @firebenderwolf @chaneajoyyy @moanlightbaby @dolanackles @marvelously-flawed @ugh-jalynn @jazzwhitlockhale @joyrivh @socialistavocado @turn-diamonds-into-snow @shadow-of-wonder @bxmaaa @clemmingstylins0n @trublmr @fairygardenss @spookysnena @shxllxfx​

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I think the second half of this book is my best work yet. I know I always say this and that’s bc I’m always getting better -Danny

Words: 4,073

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty: St. Mungo's.

At five in the morning the mood hadn't changed much in the room, Fred had fallen asleep on her shoulder, George and Ginny were across, staring intently at some point on the wall, Ron kept his face hidden behind his hands.

Harry and Sirius would look around the room with a lost air, unsure of what their part in this whole thing was. Mel and her mother had the same worried expression, none of them was known to be patient, but they didn't have a choice, they were all waiting...

Mel was worried about Mr Weasley, but she was also worried about her uncle back in the castle, about Umbridge and how she'd react to the missing Gryffindor students... She was also worried about Erick, all alone and having to deal with the death of the man he'd admired his whole life.

That was all Mel could feel at its fullest lately, no happiness was lasting, no bliss was ever-present. Mel was in a constant state of worry and distress, part of it because of her own trauma, and because all around her there was simply no safe place where to hold on to.

Mrs Weasley came rushing through the door. Mel stared at the woman, trying to find any hints of the possible news. She didn't have to wait for long, though.

"He's going to be all right," The woman said. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred sat back beside her with heaviness, Mel pulled him closer with one arm and hugged him sideways, George and Ginny stood up and hugged their mother tightly. Ron finished his butterbeer, his usual colour slowly going back to his face.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius, standing up with newfound energy. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER! Oh, forget it, then. So it's breakfast for — let's see — nine... Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast —"

Harry got up swiftly and walked over to the stove, clearly wanting to be of use in a room where he felt he had no place to take. He was wrong. Mrs Weasley made her way to the boy and took the plates out of his hands, encasing him in a fierce hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry. They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis..."

Before Harry had a chance to reply, she let him go and turned to Sirius and Emily.

"Oh, I'm so grateful... They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... Of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas..."

"The more the merrier!" Sirius smiled openly at the woman. Emily nodded in agreement.

Mel knew Sirius loathed having to spend all his time inside the house, even with the company of Emily it surely was annoying, having nothing to do given the circumstances of his life.

"Sirius," Harry moved closer to the man and whispered something Mel couldn't quite hear.

Sirius gave the boy a funny look and followed him to the pantry. Mel felt the irresistible need to follow them as well, but she figured, whatever Harry wanted to talk about in private was not her business, not anymore. That much she'd said to him a few hours ago.

Fred stirred in his place and finally moved away from her grip, hastily cleaning his face before anyone could notice, Mel pretended not to see for his benefit.

"I'm going to help my mum with breakfast," She told him. "I'm happy your dad's well."

Fred nodded, half-listening to the girl. When she moved over to get something out of a shelf, she listened to Harry's voice coming from the little room next to her.

"Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad... Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all. You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —"

"It wasn't that. It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me —"

Dumbledore's words felt heavier than before, if Harry was truly affected by some kind of dark magic... it reminded her when Ginny started to act strange, when she'd been...

"Possessed," Mel whispered.

The door to the pantry opened abruptly and Sirius walked out of it causing her to jump, Mel directed herself to the stove, doing her best to not look back to where she knew Harry was currently standing.

She listened to Ginny's slow breathing unable to fall asleep. Her mind was replaying every moment of the last few months after the third task, trying to see if there were any hints that could point to a possession.

Mel thought hard about every time she had touched the boy, which to be fair, wasn't that many. Harry was acting up more often, that much was true, but who wouldn't after the hell he'd been through? Everyone had a limit, and Harry's got surpassed by a wide difference.

She didn't want to think about this, but she couldn't ignore it, not when it could lead to some of her friends getting hurt. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry, but once again, Ginny was absolutely trustworthy and yet she'd petrified Hermione without meaning to. It could've ended worse if it weren't because Hermione got the answer on time.

When it finally was time for lunch Mel followed everyone downstairs with very little energy. No one but Harry seemed to notice, and that only because he too hadn't slept. Mel was once again torn between her duty and her personal interests. On one side, she felt she owed to her uncle to pay close attention, but that meant staying as close as possible, and that was something she didn't want to do.

Maybe it wasn't about being close physically, maybe she just had to get closer to his head. That one she could do without having to spend time with him. Legilimency and Occlumency.

That afternoon they were meant to visit Mr Weasley, the trip could be useful, she could stand next to Harry and try to perceive if his energy had changed. It was hard work, and she couldn't fully trust in the little trick, but right now that was all she had.

An hour later and an awkward train ride with Tonks and Moody, she found herself entering 'ST. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries' through the glass of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

The things Mel saw in the waiting room were certified to give her nightmares, or at least, very peculiar fever dreams. A group of wizards and witches were walking around the rows of people writing down things on clipboards and asking questions about their symptoms. Beside her, she heard Harry asked Ron if those were doctors.

"Doctors?" Ron asked in a tone of bewilderment. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Hey, they're not nutters!" Mel argued. "Muggles can't heal each other magically, they had to find their own solutions..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rolled her eyes. "Look, mum's there!"

"Over here!" Mrs Weasley called from the line where she was standing.

Behind the desk, she saw the portrait of Dilys, the witch that was also inside Dumbledore's office. Mel timidly waved at her, the witch did a quick count to make sure all the Weasleys were there along with Harry and Mel and she discretely returned Mel's greeting, disappearing from her portrait right after that.

"It's these — ouch — shoes my brother gave me — ow!" A man at the front of the line caught her attention. "— they're eating my — OUCH — feet — look at them, there must be some kind of — AARGH — jinx on them and I can't — AAAAARGH — get them off —"

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" said the witch at the front desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

Two more people went before them, one worried father holding a little girl by the ankle, with fluffy white wings coming out of her back, and one man that was there looking for a wizard that apparently was confused to the point he was sure he was a teapot.

"Hello," Mrs Weasley said when they arrived at the front. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us — ?"

"Arthur Weasley? Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you. Come on, you lot."

They followed through the halls and Mel continued to look around curiously, she probably had a funny dreamy look on her face, because Ron nudged her side, smirking.

"What now, you're adding 'Healer' to the list of jobs you want when you grow up?"

Mel snorted.

"No! Didn't you see all the crazy things happening in the waiting room? I wouldn't get used to that! I'm afraid that even though I've spent years as a witch now, at heart I'm still a muggle."

"Give it time, Lady," George replied. "It's been like what, four years? You won't even remember your life without magic after a decade living like a witch."

For some reason, that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She loved being a witch, but her muggle life wasn't something she wanted to forget, especially when it had been the best years of her friendship with Harry...

Why did her mind insist on bringing Harry to every discussion?

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Harry and Mel immediately stepped back, but Mrs Weasley reached out to get Harry and the twins grabbed her by the arms, pulling her along.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you..."

"And there's no way you're staying behind," Fred said playfully. "Dad would love to see her daughter-in-law..."

"If you keep saying that you'll end up believing it," Mel warned him.

"I bet my parents would rather have you as a daughter instead of this bad copy of me," George teased.

"Who are you calling a copy, you idiot?" Fred reached to hit his brother, but George hid behind her. "Everyone knows I'm more attractive than you!"

"You two stop fighting!" Mrs Weasley hissed. "This is a hospital room! Please act your age!"

The three of them stopped, trembling with contained laughter as they reached Mr Weasley's bed.

"Hello!" The man called happily. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later..."

"How are you, Arthur? You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine, if they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," Mr Weasley reached for his wand, and with one wave he conjured a couple of chairs for them to sit on. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open... They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there," He lowered his voice and pointed to the man in front of them. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" Mrs Weasley turned to look at the man with wide eyes. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

"It's two weeks till full moon. They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him — didn't mention names, of course — but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage..."

"What did he say?" asked George.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up. And that woman over there won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

Mel's eyes stayed on the man laying ahead of them. The newborn werewolf, a man who was probably completely fine before being bitten. Was it really two weeks before the full moon? That wasn't ideal, she wanted to see her uncle, she was missing him lots already, and having half a week wasted because of his condition made her feel terribly for him.

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, you already know, don't you? It's very simple — I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred.

"No, of course not, the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got —"

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley.

"— got — er — me," Mr Weasley finished.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked George.

"That's my business," said Mr Weasley calmly, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in —"

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

"You heard your father," Mrs Weasley hissed, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur —"

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge. I can only suppose gold changed hands —"

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said George eagerly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!"

"Anyway," Mr Weasley continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?"

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, glancing at his father anxiously. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"There's no need to talk about that night," Mel said roughly. The tone she used was enough to quiet the twin, but Mrs Weasley added more to it.

"That's enough! Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside. You can come and say good-bye afterwards. Go on..."

Mel stood up and wished Mr Weasley as fast recovery, then she followed the rest of her friends back outside. Moody and Tonks went in, Fred spoke up.

"Fine, be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" said George, holding out the extendable ears.

"You read my mind," Fred grinned. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

They gave everyone an extendable ear, Harry's hand stopped midway, hesitant to follow through.

"Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life, if anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him it's you..." George insisted.

"Okay, go!" Fred whispered once they were all seated.

"...they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere," She heard Tonks voice, "it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," Moody replied, " 'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this..."

"Yeah, well," said Moody, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," whispered Mrs Weasley. "He said Mel used legilimency and found nothing unusual, but he's not so sure."

"Legilimency?" Moody said in a tone of mild surprise. "A fifteen-year-old having control over that kind of magic? No wonder why You-Know-Who wants her on his side!"

Mel gasped and Ron was quick to cover her mouth. So that was it then, Voldemort didn't want to kill her, he wanted to use her.

"...The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake... Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him —"

Harry jumped back, dropping the extendable ear and looking at his friends with wide eyes. Mel kept her gaze fixed on the door.

She wanted nothing else than to follow Harry's lead and hide in her room for the rest of the day, but as soon as she set a foot on the entrance hall, Ron caught her wrist and pulled her towards the twins' room, quickly followed by the rest of the young Weasleys.

"What?" She asked, though she already knew.

"You know what's going on," Ron said. "You knew Harry was ill before Neville had left the room, and you knew Umbridge was hurting him. Not only that, but you had the same bruises as Harry on the back of your hand!"

"How..?"

"Hermione saw it one day while you were still asleep," Ron confessed. "You have to tell us what's going on."

"I don't have the answers," She said tensely. "I can't tell if what they're saying it's true, I don't know if Harry's possessed."

"But you can tell other things, can't you?" Her friend insisted. "Last June, you had the same injuries as him in your arm, only that yours were bruises..."

She looked at the twins and Ginny, they were all staring at her. Now was as good as any other day, Harry didn't care about her telling them, but she had to be careful. Mel sat down on Fred's bed and told them everything.

Well, not everything. She began her story on the night of the third task, when the thin wall dividing her lifeline from Harry's broke apart. It was simple, really. They had been through so many near-death experiences together that the magic in their souls had merged, creating their strange connection.

Dumbledore had called it survival instincts, Harry's mind would look for her whenever he felt in danger, whether he wanted to or not. Not only that, but they were able to lend a bit of vital energy to each other if they were lacking some in a crucial moment.

The Weasleys listened with their mouths wide open, Ginny kept biting her nails, Ron looked awfully confused and would look at her and then the floor as if he could see Harry through it.

"That's why we fought," She said. "Harry doesn't want to force me to feel his pain. He thought that distance would help but I don't think we'll ever go back to normal. It didn't use to be this strong but ever since he fought Voldemort I feel more things now... I see more."

"But..." Ron frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "But it's not you in his body, right? Or Harry in your body?"

"No..." Mel hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I stay in my body and he stays in his. I just... it's like dreaming. You feel things, but as soon as you wake up, it goes away."

"But you've been hurt before," Fred frowned. "Ron said it just now, you get bruises, and last night when we got here, your nose was bleeding—"

"Those were my fault—" She started, but Fred shook his head in disbelief.

"How's that your fault?"

"The bruises happened because I didn't ground myself," Mel said. "Harry was going through a lot... he was dying. I had to give in a little so he could come back. I had to let him take whatever he needed..."

Her friends gave her eery looks, she let out a tired sigh.

"I know how it sounds, but I promise this is not hurting me more than it hurts him. This thing goes both ways, if I were the one hurting, Harry would feel everything. He... he would've done the same for me. You know he would."

No one talked against her, still, Ron had lots of questions.

"What about last night?"

"Last night," Mel look down, fidgeting at the idea of having felt something else than just Harry, but not wanting to scare her friends. "I was weak– I used legilimency for the first time, it drained me. I couldn't push Harry's feelings away, I just buried them inside. Which was a mistake."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked. "If... if it turns out he's possessed, what will that do to you?"

"He can't be," Mel sentenced, but her voice broke at the end.

"Have you felt anything strange?"

"I just feel Harry, even if he were struggling with something, I doubt I'd feel it. I only feel the things that belong to his soul."

"I don't get it," George frowned. "You saved his life last June and he blames you for the connection?"

"He doesn't blame her," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry's scared for her. You'd be terrified too if your best friend gets hurt every time you do. Harry probably freaked out when he found out he'd taken a bit of Mel's life. That sounds awful... But he would've done the same for you, and it was your choice anyway, I think you were brave for doing so."

"Maybe if you talk to Harry he'll understand," Ron offered.

Mel let out a bitter laugh.

"I've tried. As soon as he told me his idea— I've tried to tell him that this is not his fault. The best we can do is just ignore it and try to live normal lives."

"I don't think it'll fix it," Fred replied. "Things don't usually go away like that."

" I'm not saying I'll ignore it if he's in danger, you saw it last night, I was the first to arrive and help him. I like my new life, I like having more friends and I can't help but think that maybe..."

She stopped before saying 'I don't need him anymore', realizing it was something horrible to say.

"Maybe what?" Ron asked sharply, probably guessing what she wanted to say.

"Maybe it's time I stop treating Harry like a child and let him deal with this on his own. He keeps saying he can do it, so maybe I should listen."

"What if he can't, though?" Ginny asked. "What if they're right and... and he's..."

Mel got up. "I'm tired... can we please leave it?"

"But—"

"Sure," Fred stood up as well. "C'mon, we should help mum and Emily downstairs."

He shared one significant look with Mel, she wondered if he'd gotten a new revelation with this. Maybe he understood there was more to their agreement than just her wanting to get over a crush.

It was about wanting to escape from the constant reminder of being tied to someone against her will, someone who didn't want her around.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[theawkwardterrier]

to seek a newer world

Steggy Week 2k20, day 6 Prompt: Headcanons and fave moments

Summary: Lateness becomes a bit of a theme through the years.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents​ for organizing!

Steve was still on the couch reading by dim lamplight when Peggy came down at 12:29 a.m. She walked over, yawning, and curled into his side.

“Cutting it quite close again, isn’t she?” she asked into his T-shirt. He chuckled, put in his bookmark, and turned to kiss her head.

“I’m just waiting up. She still has another minute,” he pointed out. They silently counted it down together.

“And now she doesn’t,” Steve sighed. “She’s late. Officially. Again.”

“They both are. I peeked in on Will before I came down and he had pillows all lumped up beneath the duvet.”

Steve groaned softly. “And he’s already supposed to be grounded, too. Plus I’ll probably find that window screen torn up on the lawn in the morning.”

“What on earth made us think we were qualified to handle twins, I certainly don’t know.”

“Knowing how much personality got split between our two, I think even one might have been too much.”

She yawned again, shuts her eyes as she leaned into him. She actually had the weekend off, not even an emergency summit on the horizon, and had counted on it meaning at least one good night’s sleep. “Well, I do hope they’re enjoying themselves considering the chores they’ll be taking on in exchange for this. Washing the supper dishes for the next month, at least.”

“They already wash the dishes,” Steve reminded her, pulling her closer. He leaned his face into her hair. “And help with the yard, and make honor roll. They really are good kids, when it comes down to it.”

“I know that, and I certainly wouldn’t exchange them, especially considering some of the alternatives. I only wish that they would try to overcome the predisposition to lateness which you passed down.”

“Me? Sounds more like your genetics at work.”

“I think you’ll find that I have a reputation for punctuality,” she replied, “while you come up rather short in that department.”

A pair of headlights moved across the living room curtains, not stopping. Busy took the car tonight, but if her brother sneaked out, she would drop him off around the corner, let him jump the neighbors’ fences and slink through the back door, or try climbing up the house back into his window. (Sometimes Steve cursed what he passed on to them. Not often, though. Neither of them had ever had so much as a cold.)

"Maybe the lateness comes from both of us," Steve suggested, gesturing at their wedding picture on the side table. "We’ve certainly had our moments."

"Hmm," she said, though he suspected that was more tiredness than agreement.

In the silence, the brief creak of the upstairs window was especially pronounced, as was the curse Will gave when he fell through it. Apparently he’d made it back in decent condition.

"Pillows under the blanket, huh?" Steve laughed softly. "They really do think we’re idiots.” And he got up to have a talk about punctuality and punishment with his son.

Steve adjusted his shoulders against the headboard, licking a finger absently as he turned a page. The story was easy to get pulled back into quickly, which was good because—

“And the looks I get during meetings are absolutely unbelievable.” Peggy slammed her own book back into her lap, or what was left of it. “An emergency summit about China, and every eye pointed at my middle as if they’d never seen one before.”

To be fair, her middle was fairly spectacular these days, but if they couldn’t stay focused, out of politeness if not duty… “Assholes,” he agreed. “Turn over.”

She did unquestioningly, putting her book on the nightstand and allowing him to start in pressing the tension from her back. He knew well how to do it, as he should after months, after years.

“He’s late,” she growled into the pillow after a moment. “I can’t believe he’s so late.”

“The doctor said that first kids can be like that. A little reluctant to come out. Taking a little extra time to…” Steve paused. “Cook,” he finished after an awkward moment.

She sighed. “I know, and I certainly wouldn’t want an uncooked child. It’s still bloody inconsiderate of him to be so delayed. Making my back ache like this all day, and in the absolute depth of summer, too.”

“You think it’s a boy?” He smiled, despite the aggravation in her voice. They had the bassinet all ready, and dozens of outfits so miniature that sometimes he would simply unfold them, hold them in his palm, and stare in wonder.

“No daughter of mine would be so rude, I should hope.” She moaned as he hit a particularly good spot, lifting her face to the bit of breeze coming through the open window. Perhaps the rain which had been threatening might really come at last.

“Maybe she’s just being strategic, like her mother.”

“I’ll have to teach whoever they are better than that.” She sighed. “Strategy indeed. Not even out in the world and already biting the hand that—Oh!”

He sat up abruptly, book sliding to the floor beside him.

“Was that—?”

“Yes.” She touched carefully at the mattress beneath them. “Yes, I suppose it’s time.”

The bag for the hospital was right beside the bed. It swung from Steve’s hand as he patted his pockets a bit frantically to make sure he had his keys.

“Steve.”

He looked over. Peggy had put her feet carefully over the side of the bed, waiting for him to help her with her shoes. The look on her face was unfamiliar.

“Steve,” she said again. “What if I’m not ready?”

He wasn’t certain that he was ready either - they were so small, babies, and he didn’t exactly have experience - but he smiled for her.

“Then it’s a good thing this one seems to like to take it slow and give us plenty of time. We’ll be able to catch up.”

“Of course,” she said, then, determined, “Of course. We’ll catch up.”

“I’m fairly certain,” Peggy said, breathing hard, “that it will be quite humiliating when we get out of here,” but she pressed herself closer to him.

Steve suggested idly, “So maybe we just shouldn’t leave,” but even saying it, he knew it was impossible - and maybe not desirable either. “Not that I want to miss our own wedding,” he added hastily. He felt the silk of her dress under his fingers, thought about watching it spin as they had their first dance, about having a picture from today at home, hearing people comment on it - maybe even their kids one day... “I actually really want to be married to you.”

“More than you want this?” she asked cheekily, hands still beneath his suit jacket.

“I’ve heard a rumor,” he said, bending squarely toward her, “that we still get to do this after we’re married.”

“In closets?” she breathed, reaching close right back. “Closets are essential.”

“Wherever you want...”

And then his mouth was on hers, and he forgot where they were, what he’d been saying, had been thinking, until he felt her engagement ring pressed to his cheek. He pulled away, took her hand, kissed the knuckles. “Come on,” he said. “I have another ring to go with this one.”

She opened the door with practiced stealth, peering into the corridor of the community hall. They had only planned to spend last night apart, but between an operation gone wrong, Dernier getting lost in the city, and Howard’s persistent offers of “one last hurrah!” for each of them, it had been nearly a week since they’d last seen each other. It was no wonder that, when they’d each happened to come collect their thoughts in the back hallway, one thing had led to another.

Luckily, no one seemed to be around. Or perhaps less than luckily: some members of their wedding party were meant to be observant, with world saving responsibilities, and they hadn’t exactly been well-hidden.

“We’re late,” Peggy whispered as they left the broom closet behind. (Steve caught a mop by the handle and propped it back against the wall before shutting the door.) “We’re very late.”

“I know. We’ll probably hear about it in every toast.”

“And for the next ten years besides.” She stopped just before the set of doors which would bring them back into the foyer. She looked into his face, so easily familiar even in the dim light. “But I wouldn’t exchange it. We are who we are, and I quite like who we are.”

He looked back, so entirely thankful that he would have the chance to do that for the rest of their lives. “I do too,” he said. “Even if it means giving Jarvis a heart attack by ruining all of his planning.”

Peggy scoffed. “Ruining it? Simply a delay, darling. Which poor Jarvis might have counted into his plans anyway.” And she pushed open the doors, ready to get on with the next part, and all they’d get after.

“They’re late,” Steve said exasperatedly, though it was fairly obvious by now: their information had the handoff taking place at midnight, and it was already half past. He shifted in his seat - Peggy’s sedan wasn’t exactly tops for leg room, and they’d already been in place an hour.

“Well.” Peggy was clearly biting back a yawn. It’d been a full week of late nights, with this meant to be the last for a while; one more takedown, the final piece, and she’d have the next few days to rest. “Possibilities?”

“Our intel was wrong,” he started off.

She nodded. “Or they changed the particulars.”

“Could be tomorrow, or in an hour, or going on somewhere else while we sit here. It could have already happened.” The thought was too depressing to consider for long, the mood in the car already deflating and the two of them having eaten their emergency car snacks while following a tip-off earlier that week without a chance to replace them. Steve added, slightly hopelessly, “Maybe they got held up somewhere. Traffic?”

“Bridge club ran long, perhaps?”

“Let’s hope not. If these guys are able to sit around the same table playing bridge, they won’t need to handle incriminating material out in the open.”

She laughed, trying to give a gentle stretch as she did.

“Come here,” he offered hesitantly. “I can—” After a moment, she leaned back so he could knead careful fingers into her neck and shoulders.

"If they did play bridge together," Peggy said after a brief quiet, "I'd wager the best bottle in Howard's cellar that Dumont cheats." She gave a deep sound from the back of her throat; he pressed carefully on the same spot again.

"Wouldn't take that bet, but I'd guess Crenshaw probably cheats worse. He's the type - would steal from his own grandmother."

"He gets on quite well with his grandmother, actually. Flowers every birthday. His mother, on the other hand…"

Steve grinned. "Have I ever told you that you're very good at what you do?"

"You have, but it's certainly something I can hear more than once."

He brushed his fingers against the back of her neck. “You’re very good at what you do.”

“Not as good as I could be, apparently. Not tonight.”

“Hey, it’s not—” Steve started, hands bracketing her shoulders, but before he could continue, headlights flashed across the windscreen in front of them. The attached car turned into the alley they’d been watching. A second set of lights appeared at the opposite end. This late at night, the slam of the car doors was audible even where Steve and Peggy sat.

“Sorry we’re late,” one of the men muttered. “Traffic was worse than expected.”

“Got caught in the same,” someone said back.

“How inconsiderate not to have considered that in advance,” Peggy said, checking her pistol before she moved to open the door.

“You can tell them off once they’re in lockup,” Steve told her. “Pretty sure they’ll be timely after this.”

Expecting the plumber, Peggy opened the door still facing toward her overflowing sink.

“Excellent.” She glanced at the visitor for just an instant. “It’s right this—”

She turned back, sink forgotten. Steve Rogers stood on her doorstep.

“I’m late,” he said. “I know. I’m sorry.”

He had flowers in his hands. He looked...older, both more and less comfortable in his skin.

“You could never be too late,” she said. The words brought something pained to his eyes. She reached for his hand. “Do you know anything about unclogging drains?”

“Not a thing.”

“I suppose we’ll learn, then. There’s time.”