#i’m on the train home and i’ve tried posting this six times already whenever there’s a touch of 4g/5g in the scottish wilderness

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Mercury Roadrunner's Interview about Freddie Mercury with Peter Freestone – Part II

Thanks very much to Mercury Roadrunner (Pavel Strashnyy) for letting me share his amazing interviews! Originally shared here.

Check the tag "MR interview with Phoebe" to see the other parts. Here are the 3 main topics of this interview, beginning of each topic is written in bold:

1. Language skills

2. Music videos, Garden Lodge

3. Celebrity friends, leg damage story, Joe Fanelli, relationship between band members, Freddie's last days

PS: So here is our second part and the first topic is about Freddie’s language skills:

Did he actually know only the English language or did he also know the Gujarati language or any other languages?

PF: When his parents were in Garden Lodge or if he called his mother on the telephone, he only spoke English. I suppose, he must have understood Gujarati, because, okay, in the school he was taught English, but before the school, when he was in Zanzibar and he would have been with is parents, so I would have thought they would have been speaking in Gujarati.

He had about twenty words of German after living in Munich for so many years. He couldn’t speak German, but I think he understood the language, if he was paying attention, because most of the people around him were talking English, so he never really had the need to learn German. Although, saying that, one of his partners, Winnie, was German and did not speak a lot of English, but then he had Barbara to do the translating.

PS: The second topic is about a very special song “Mad The Swine”, which was recorded in 1972, but was released only in 1991 as a B side of “Headlong” single. Why, after so many years, Freddie decided to come back to it and release it?

PF: Freddie knew that “Innuendo” was going to be his last complete album and I think that this song had a special place in his heart, there were something about it, and as far as he was concerned, it never got an airing he felt it deserved and the rest of the band was happy to put it on.

PS: I mentioned the “Headlong” song and you can be seen in some archival footage of making of the “Headlong” video, you help to lay the Queen members on the shelves. What are your memories about that day?

PF: I was just there to help them. When they are making a video, they don’t need someone to take care of costumes, because there is a costume person, there is a makeup person, everybody is there to do something. And so I was there for Freddie, looking after him, and it just seemed natural to help out. And the band would feel more comfortable if that was someone that they know who would help to put them on the shelves rather than some technician turning up and trying to do it. And this moment with selves wasn’t’ planned. That wasn’t in the storyboard, it’s just that they saw it, there were four shelves so they just thought “Well, why not? Let’s do something crazy”. And the idea must have come from the band member, because Rudi would have seen all the possibilities when he was checking out where they were going to be doing the filming, and if he had thought of using the shelves, that would be one of the ideas put in the beginning.

PS: There are also some parts where we can see you in “The Great Pretender Extended Version” video - can you remember anything about it?

PF: It was just a big long laugh. There is not one part of the making of the actual scenes that they are not laughing and smiling. Roger, Peter and Freddie – they just clicked, it all worked. Nobody had to be bigger than the next one, nobody had to take the spotlight, and they just were there, having a good time.

PS: What is your personal favourite memory from that day?

PF: Personally, for me it is watching the recording of the six girls –you know, both of the backing group were girls, they were wearing two different outfits – and watching the recordings, when they were recording the one group of three and then the other group of three, the costumes they got in to and what they did – you couldn’t help but feel really-really happy. They were actually standing on the same platform when they were recorded. And then, of course, they used computer graphics to put two different groups on the screen at the same time. Just watching three of them there on the platform, waving their hands goodbye, it brings back the memories of those groups of backing singers in the sixties.

PS: What are your memories of making of the “Breakthru” video?

PF: I remember that it was probably the hottest night of the year, no sleep, because it was just so hot and humid. They had a huge problem with the opening scene, and they shot that last in fact. But they had a huge problem because when the engine went into the tunnel it caused air pressure so that that polystyrene wall burst out a long time before the engine arrived. So they tried it earlier on and that’s when they found that that’s what happened, and then they had to do playing around with it during the day, there was people doing that while the rest of the filming was going on, and then they had to sort of re-do it and it was the last shot. And the engine was actually already in the tunnel before it started getting up a bit of speed. And it wasn’t going as fast as people think it does, so that it looked right. It was a fun day. Only the band and the actual film crew were allowed on the flatbed, where the band were performing, because of the way it was being filmed, you could easily be in shot, so the less people that were there – the better. John was having a ball, I remember him laughing a lot, he was enjoying himself. And there was a normal carriage, like a dining car, but old, 1930-1940s, and that was where we would have food and drink. And it was wonderful. It’s a working old train line, it’s a tourist thing, but it’s great, it’s really-really nice and it’s not that far away from London. And Freddie was enjoying the shooting. I was surprised when I saw what he was doing on that flatbed, he was leaning over the edge as the train was going along, but again, it looks faster than it was. It really was only going at about 25-30 kilometers an hour. But it’s made to look as though they are speeding along.

PS: And what was the very first Queen video you were presented on?

PF: The very first video that I was involved with was “Save Me”, because it was shot during two shows of the “Crazy Tour”, I think it was at “The Rainbow” and it was shot at “Alexandra Palace”. Because it was the mix of the live action, the cartoon girl, the bird – and that was the hardest thing – to get Freddie to almost catch the bird, the pigeon. They had to re-film it for about 15 times. And it was where David Mallet, the director, fell of the stage into the orchestra pit. Everybody panicked for a few minutes, but then he stuck his head up “Oh, I’m alright”. It was about 2-3 meters he felled. And then followed all the post-production with the girl, with the cartoon, and how they blended the live pigeon to become the cartoon one and all that sort of work – all of it was done afterwards and it was done before Christmas 1979.

PS: And what was the very last Queen video you were presented on?

PF: “I’m Going Slightly Mad” video. I remember the penguin on the couch moment. Actually most of all I remember the way Diana was with Freddie, because she just took such a good care of him, she had special thermal underwear made for Freddie, because right from my meeting with Freddie in 1979 I remember the easiest thing for Freddie was to feel cold. And it only got worse the more sick he got. And she had special thermal underwear made for him that went underneath the shirt and the suit. She just was there for him all the time and it was just wonderful to see.

PS: And did Freddie usually have cold hands or he had normal temperature of hands?

PF: He could have normal warm hands, but often they would be cold. So maybe he could have a blood circulation problem.

PS: Can you remember something about the shooting of “I Want It All” video?

PF: I don’t think I was at that one, because that would have been Joe, Joe Fanelli would have been there, because we sort of took in turns – he would go to one, I would not, I’ll do all the stuff at home, then I would go to one and he would stay at home.

PS: And it was also the same for you take the turns in concerts?

PF: No, I was on tours with Freddie from 1979 till 1985 and then Joe took over from the last part of 1985 and 1986.

PS: And why you stopped going on tours and Joe took that part?

PF: Because Garden Lodge had been completed and to keep the insurance cover someone had to be living there, so I got to live there. I moved in six months before Freddie did. And Freddie moved in in the middle-end 1985. Because what we did was – Freddie was at Mary’s home and Terry and I took Oscar and Tiffany away from Stafford Terrace. Because Freddie was supposed to move in and he kept putting it off again and again, he said “I’ll do it tomorrow”, “I’ll do it at the weekend”, there was always a reason, an excuse, so what Terry and I did – we went and kidnapped Oscar and Tiffany and took them to Garden Lodge. And then, when Freddie went home and he was looking for the cats, Terry said: “No, they are not here, they are at your other home” – and Freddie moved within two days.

PS: And what was it like living with Freddie in Garden Lodge? What are your first memories of start of living there?

PF: At that point I was living above the kitchen. Joe and I had rooms that were above the kitchen, just up those stairs. And it just felt strange just to be living in that house. The thing is, I’ve been living with Freddie for years, because whenever we were in hotels it was always a two bedroom suit, so I knew how he was, what he would do, what he needed in the morning, how the moods could change, that was all standard, that was all normal. The difference was being in the luxury of Garden Lodge, knowing that it was a house, not the hotel, and the fact that he had made us promise, both Joe and myself, that we would treat this place as our home. It wasn’t just work and somewhere to stay because of work – it was our home.

Some houses have energy, they have a feeling, and while Freddie was in Garden Lodge it was a really warm, friendly house.

PS: And the atmosphere in the house changed almost at the moment Freddie passed away, right?

PF: Literally. For me, while he was still alive, even in those last minutes, it was still the same house, but literally within minutes, while we were waiting for the doctor, it just became bricks and mortar, it just became somewhere to sleep, somewhere to live.

PS: You mentioned living together with Freddie in hotels, but do you remember living with Freddie in some flats or houses before Garden Lodge?

PF: We were living in his apartment in New York. The way it was set up there were two bedrooms, sitting room, dining room, kitchen, a maid’s room and a sort of TV room.

And later we lived together for six months in Los Angeles. Recording “The Works”. They rented the big house for Freddie. A nice house, big-big house. It belonged to a doctor, who just constantly rented it out to stars, who needed somewhere to stay while they were filming. Elizabeth Taylor apparently stayed there, George Hamilton was there, lots of different film stars used it. It was a big house in nice big gardens, it had a swimming pool, had a tennis court, you know, it all the things you need.

PS: And it was actually two of you living there together?

PF: Yeah, Freddie and me. And Terry was there too, to drive.

PS: And speaking of Freddie’s New York Times, can you actually remember what was his the most favourite part of the city?

PF: Most evenings he would end up down on Christopher street, which is down near Greenwich Village. Because there were bars around there, clubs around there, restaurants around there, everything was there in that area, in the West Village.

PS: Our next topic is about Freddie Mercury and George Michael; we can see them together at “Barcelona” album launch party and Queen 20th anniversary party – do you remember the interaction between them?

PF: They actually met up at Live Aid, after it finished. We had to stay in the bar, because there were absolutely no way any cars were going to get out of the stadium area, because of the traffic and everything. And that was the very first time that they actually met. Freddie admired him, he thought George had a great talent both in writing and in singing, but there was no special friendship, because Freddie didn’t create big friendships with other musicians. He preferred, so to say, normal people. And also he enjoyed actors and actresses, their company, more than other musicians, because the way he felt, most musicians just wanted to talk about music and he had many more interests. So, yes, if Freddie and George were in the same place, then yes, they would meet up and they would chat about what was going on in their lives, but most of it was always about work. Their conversations would always be like “what was the tour like” and they would laugh, because they would make jokes about what they had been doing. Freddie could make a joke out of any situation. He didn’t tell anecdotes as such, but he could see something and he could make a joke out of it.

PS: As you mentioned Freddie having friends among actors and actresses, could you remember some of them?

PF: Anita Dobson, Debby Bishop, Carol Wood, Pam Ferris, Susannah York. One he would like to have met and she lived literally just across the road, but it never came, was Diana Rigg. And he was incredibly happy when I gave him an autograph from Honor Blackman. I met her and I said “Could I have an autograph, please”, she says “yes, of course, who’s it for?” and I said “it’s just for my friend, Freddie”. And he was overjoyed with it and he kept it in his bedside drawer.

PS: And who was his favourite actors?

PF: Franco Nero, James Mason, Laurence Olivier. And he got to meet him, so that was another of Freddie’s absolute joys. Dave Clark took Freddie to dinner at Laurence Olivier’s house. It was when they were working on “The Time” musical.

PS: And it was actually very last Freddie’s live performance, can you remember something special about it?

PF: Yes, April 1988. I just thought how amazing it sounded. We all heard “In my defence” before, but when he did “it’s in every one of us” as a duet with Cliff that was absolutely amazing. We had goose bumps. And then after the performance we went to Cliff Richard’s dressing room, sitting and talking there.

PS: And you said that Freddie didn’t have many friends amongst musicians, but could you remember something special about Freddie and Elton John’s friendship?

PF: They first met back in 74/75, when Queen were managed by John Reid and in those days both of them were constantly touring so they could rarely meet up. But every now and then Queen would have just done the show and Elton would be performing the next day, so he was already in the hotel and we would meet up and go round, sitting in Elton’s room talking. And then for about a couple of years after Freddie’s diagnosis they didn’t see each other, but then Freddie told Elton about his status and for the last year and a half Elton would regularly come to Garden Lodge. And in Freddie’s last two weeks Elton would ring us, say what time he would arrive, so that he wouldn’t be seen arriving, he wouldn’t come through the front door, and we would let him in through the Mews in his mini, so nobody knew he was there. He had to go to Paris to record, so he gave me all of the numbers: hotel number, the studio number, his mobile number, his assistance’s mobile number, all the numbers, just to let him know when it happen, because he knew it was going to happen. And at the very last time he came to Garden Lodge, he drove in one of his Bentleys and parked it right outside the front door and the press were running over to him asking “why are you here?” and Elton just turned around and said “I’ve come to see my friend”. And that was it, he just came in and they sat and talked. And when Elton came, it was really just Freddie and him in the room, just talking.

PS: And what was the story about Freddie getting his leg damaged in Munich?

PF: Freddie, when he had a few drinks, he would pick people up, just lift them off the floor, to show how strong he was. So Freddie had picked someone up and then someone next to him bumped into his knee and the ligaments tore, because instead of the way it was supposed to bend the knee bend the other way. Freddie then dropped the person he was carrying, he was screaming in pain and we had to go and get it set. When Queen filmed “It’s A Hard Life” in the end of the video, you can see him favouring the leg.

PS: And as you mention “It’s A Hard Life” video, Freddie’s friend Barbara Valentin stars in this video and she was a star in films of Rainer Werner Fassbinder – did Freddie ever discuss his films with her?

PF: Yeah, because she had videos of them. Freddie did meet Fassbinder once. They were in the “Deutsche Eiche”, which was Fassbinder’s favourite restaurant, he was always in it in Munich. And Barbara would take Freddie there every now and then. So Barbara introduced them to each other, they talked a bit, but they were there for lunch, it wasn’t a planned meeting or anything like this.

PS: And what film directors Freddie admired?

PF: Vincente Minnelli, George Cukor, the directors of the 40’s-50’s.

PS: What are your memories of Joe Fanelli?

PF: He was American. The first time I met him his relationship with Freddie was just finishing, this was in 1979. But he stayed in London and worked a lot in London. He was working in different restaurants. He was an amazing chef. And they kept in touch over the years and that’s why when Garden Lodge was finished and someone had to be there, that’s when Freddie thought to bring Joe back. And it worked, because Joe used to go to the gym all the time and he was taking care of himself, which he didn’t do so much when he was with Freddie. He was great. He was amazing on the computer. Computers were just starting, but Joe could write programs and things. Freddie’s favourite programme on television was “Countdown”, which is where they pick out seven letters and you have to make the longest word you possibly can out of those seven letters and then there’s also the numbers thing as well – and Joe created that on the computer for Freddie so that he didn’t wait for it just on the TV. He was fun, and he was good; it was good working with him and most of the time we just got on so well. Garden Lodge would not have been the same without him.

PS: And you mentioned Joe programming “Countdown” for Freddie so Freddie could actually play this game on computer?

PF: Well, no, he couldn’t, but he could sit there and Joe would do the computer. The computer was bought by Freddie for Garden Lodge and it was set upstairs on the musician’s gallery in the big sitting room.

PS: How would you describe the relationship between Freddie and other Queen members?

PF: They were all close to each other, but in a different ways.

Freddie was close with John. John was the new boy, he was the last one to join, he was the youngest, and Freddie just felt protective. He wanted to protect him a little bit for the dangers of rock’n’roll. But then John got married, had Veronica, so he had the security of home, and John was not around Freddie as much, but it didn’t stop the friendship because of what happened at the end. John just decided to finish because Freddie wasn’t there anymore.

With Roger it was a different friendship. And a very good friendship, because both of them had similar personality trait, they both enjoyed a good drink; they both enjoyed a good party.

And with Brian, of course, they were friends, but Brian was much more serious and Freddie was much more of a laughing person than Brian. Brian thought about things so much. But Freddie knew that he would never find anyone better than Brian to help him with the music.

PS: We know that Brian and Roger visited Freddie in his last days, but we never heard of John visiting Freddie.

PF: I don’t think John was prepared to see Freddie looking like he did in the last days, but John came and visited Freddie before those last two weeks. I know that he did come to the house, but I don’t think he could accept seeing Freddie the way he was in those last weeks.

PS: Freddie started to get a lot worse in those last two weeks?

PF: For the last two weeks Freddie hardly ate, he hardly drank. He was taking no drugs that were keeping him alive anymore, he was taking painkillers, and that was it.

PS: What was the reason of Freddie’s last visit to Montreux?

PF: He just wanted to get away from London. He wanted to have a little bit of peace and quiet away from all the press. He had that apartment in Montreux, so he went there.

For the last two-three years of his life he would be there every other month for a couple of weeks. There was no feeling of “this is the last time I’m going to Montreux”, that wasn’t part of his mentality, he only decided that this was the last visit when I called him, because I wasn’t with him, Jim, Joe and Terry were with him at that time, I was in Garden Lodge and I rang him and I said: “Look, just so that you are aware when you come home, that there are press outside the house 24 hours a day. In the nighttime it’s down to about four or five and in the daytime it’s up to about twenty”.

And that’s when he decided that when he went into Garden Lodge, coming back from Switzerland, it would be the last time, because he knew that he would never be able to get out again.

PS: And how long was he there for the last time?

PF: For about two weeks.

PS: And how do you remember him when he came back?

PF: He was sort of happy, but he was a bit withdrawn, because he had made the decision that when he came into Garden Lodge, it would be the last time, that he would never leave it again. He already had decided that, so, of course, he was a little bit more thoughtful, more inward thinking rather than being laughing and all that. But still, even in those two last two weeks there were still times when he would laugh, because he never wanted sad people around him.

PS: What are your last memories of Freddie?

PF: Since he got back from Switzerland on the 10th, he basically stopped eating and drinking. He would have a little bit, but that’s it. So, of course, he was tired, he had no energy. Most of the time he had short sleeps, short sleep –wake up, short sleep – wake up.

In those last two weeks, except for his needs, the only other time Freddie left his room, was when Terry carried him downstairs, on the Wednesday, 20th of November, because he just wanted to look around the main room, he just wanted to have a last look at paintings, at the crystal. He just wanted to spend some more time in that huge room where he felt most comfortable.

The last week of Freddie’s life he was actually never alone, because between Joe, Jim and myself, we would spend twelve hours with him and there was always one of us with him. We did the shifts from eight in the evening till eight in the morning. The last time that I was with him was on the Friday night. And on that Friday night I got there just before eight o’clock. And, you have to remember, that at eight o’clock the statement was released to the world that Freddie had AIDS. The thing is, those hours I was with him, he was the most relaxed I had seen him in years, because there was no secret anymore, the whole world knew. And he would just talk about anything, he would be in bed, I would be sitting on the bed next to him and I would be just holding his hand. The television was on, just for some noise, he would talk and he would go to sleep and talk and go to sleep. And we talked about silly little things, nothing really serious, and nothing like “we knew everything was coming to an end”, there was none of that. He could still talk fine, his mind was together, he just was very-very tired.

But, I think, because the statement had been done, I think Freddie felt that it was time for him to go. Because it was coming up for eight o’clock and I think it was Joe coming in at that point, Joe was coming at eight, and I said to Freddie something like “Look, okay, I’m going now, Joe is going to be here, but, of course, I’ll see you, I’ll see you soon”, he said something like “uhum, yeah, yeah”.

And then he just took my hand, looked me straight in the eye and just said “Thank you”.

And I will never know, whether he already decided that we would never meet again and was thanking me for the last twelve years, or if he was just thanking me for the last twelve hours.

But I have a feeling that he already knew that we would not see each other again.

PS: Do you remember when you for the very first time understood that you are not just working with Freddie, but you are becoming friends?

PF: That really started from the very-very beginning, because we didn’t have to always talk to each other to know what he wanted. I understood him. Because of our similar upbringing in boarding school in India I knew why he reacted in some ways, why he did things, I knew it, it was just instinctive and it made everything very-very easy for him and for me. Maybe it became more intense when Freddie started the time out of Britain, because we were going to be together 24 hours a day, so you have to be friends. And for me, it was the easiest thing on earth to be friends with Freddie. I never thought about Freddie, The Superstar. I was thinking about Freddie, my friend.

SPECIAL THANKS TO VALUREX FOR CONTRIBUTION AND ASSISTENCE

[winterfluffs]

Santa Isn’t Real.....Right?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: Someone has told your daughter that Santa isn’t real. Your husband is not too pleased. 

Warnings: Mostly fluff. A couple of swear words. Tiiiiiiiniest bit of implied smut.

Word count: 2.4k

Author’s notes: Thank you all so much to the people who have liked or reblogged the first story that was posted (I have now figured out how to make a cut!). It really means a lot!  This drabble, one-shot - whatever you’d like to call it was so much fun to write; just in time for Christmas! I hope you all like it as well. Also, it is a LONG one. 

Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy Holidays!

(* “Honey, go to bed.”)

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” A voice boomed through the halls, heavy footsteps quickly stomping through the quiet compound. 

“Shit. Hide.” Clint Barton's eyes widened as he looked around at the people spread out in the living room. The heavy footsteps came quicker causing everyone in the room to run back to their rooms fear of what was going to happen.

----

 “Daddy!” A tiny teary voice cried out from the hallway. 

Bucky Barnes groggily opened his eyes, his ears immediately picking up on the soft crying. “Whsm?” He grumbled before sitting up and rubbing at his tired eyes. It was only 2 A.M. and he had just gotten to sleep an hour and a half ago. 

“Buck?” He felt you stir, your hand reaching out to pull his body back to yours.

“Daddy.” The soft crying was closer, coming from the doorway of yours and his bedroom.

“Belley?” you mumbled sitting up next to Bucky. A yawn escaped both your lips as your sniffling four-year-old daughter crawled up the bed. “Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“Daddy.” Isabelle looked at her father with tear filled blue eyes, her bottom lip quivering as Bucky wrapped his arms around her. 

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s here.” He cooed sweetly in her ear his vibranium hand making slow comforting circles on her back. 

You watched as Bucky whispered sweet words in your daughter’s ear in an attempt to calm her down from whatever had shaken her; your heart ready to burst with love at the sight. 

“Belley, tell daddy what’s wrong.” He cradled her close, rocking her in a comforting sway. 

“Santa isn’t real!” the little girl sobbed, her tiny hands wrapping around her father’s neck while she cried into his chest. 

Bucky's jaw clenched as he looked at you with slight worry. James Barnes had always been beautiful to you; but right now, seeing his jaw clench and already knowing what was going through his mind, he was breathtaking. He was in protector mode – a way he had always been with you but became even more fierce when your daughter was born. The day he found out you were pregnant he swore no one would ever hurt his little girl. Ever. And if someone did, he would make them pay.

“Baby, what do you mean Santa isn’t real? Of course Santa is real.” You joined your other half in trying to soothe your daughter’s tears.

“No! Santa isn’t real!” she spat back at you before clinging back onto her father. 

Your mind went back to the day you both found out you were expecting. Bucky knew, without a doubt, the baby would be a girl; his princess, a complete daddy’s girl, the spitting image of the dark-haired, blue-eyed man that had stolen your heart.

 And she was. 

From the moment Isabelle Marie Barnes made her entrance in this world she had her father wrapped around her little fingers. Everything Bucky did was for you and your little miracle. All the late nights staying up to finish a report, the even later nights spent training, his reluctance to do missions that would take him away from home for too long – it all was for you and your baby. 

Bucky refused to be a dad that wouldn’t be there for his child, and to yours and Bucky's surprise, the rest of the team had agreed as well. Steve and Tony especially. 

You blinked away the tears that were forming in your eyes, shaking off the sudden emotions to hormonal changes due to your being six-and-a-half-months pregnant with your second child.

“Baby, you need to tell me what happened.” Bucky’s jaw twitched again. You saw the anger forming in his eyes and placed a loving hand on his arm, squeezing it slightly. He looked at you, his resolve coming undone as he met your gaze. “Honey, Santa is very real. How else do you think you get presents on Christmas Eve?” he spoke quietly, deep blue eyes looking into even deeper bluer eyes.

 Isabelle stayed quiet yet looked between you and her dad. “Sweetheart, did you have a bad dream?” you moved her long tangled dark hair away from her face. She looked so much like her father your heart ached. 

Isabelle shook her head pouting while doing so.

“It’s okay, baby. You can tell mommy and daddy what happened. We won’t get mad.” You smiled at her yet gave your husband a stern look. The super soldier rolled his eyes then kissed your little girl’s hair, his head resting on top of hers. “Right, daddy?” 

Bucky shot you a look then sighed heavily. “Mommy and daddy won’t get mad, sweetheart. We promise.”

Feeling slightly better at your admission, Isabelle sat down on her father’s lap, her tiny fingers running along Bucky’s vibranium arm. “I was in my room when I heard a noise.”

“Honey, that was just daddy going to bed.” Bucky let out a loud laugh, the tension instantly gone from his face.

“Daddy, let me finish.” She looked back at him with a stern look. The same look you always gave him whenever he was teetering the thin line between being stupid and wanting to sleep on the couch. 

“Sorry.” You both hid a smile; you still in awe at how formal your child was at the age of four. Maybe it was the enhanced serum in her veins, or maybe it was just your thickheaded stubbornness, but your daughter was an absolute force to reckon with. So much so that she even gave Black Widow a run for her money. 

 “I heard a noise and went out to see what it was.” She sniffed, her head resting against Bucky’s chest.

 “Honey, you know you should have been in bed.” You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted.

“Mommy. You promised.” Her dark blue eyes landed on you.

“Yeah, mommy.” Bucky smirked giving you a playful look. You rolled your eyes yet couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I went out in the living room and saw someone taking presents from the tree! I asked if he was Santa and the man said that Santa wasn’t real.” Isabelle’s bottom lip quivered causing your heart to ache.

Bucky’s face had gone hard. The twitch in his jaw told you everything you needed to know. 

“Honey, Santa is most definitely real. Right, daddy?” you urged your husband to smile, pleading with him not to say anything. 

“Yeah, baby. Santa’s real.” He spoke lowly, his eyes focusing on the open door.

 “How do you know, daddy?” Isabelle looked up hope filling her pretty eyes.

“Oh, I never told you before?” he snapped out of his trance and looked down at his daughter.

“No! Tell me what! Daddy!” she bounced in his lap; her previous worries quickly turned into curiosity.  

“I’m going to tell you but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone.” He whispered.

“Not even mommy?” her eyes widened.

 “Mommy already knows.” He gave you a smile as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“What I’m about to tell you is very important. You have to promise me you won’t tell a single word to anyone.” 

“Not Uncle Steve?”

“Not Uncle Steve.”

“Not even Aunt Tasha?!”

“Not even Aunt Natasha.”

Isabelle looked up to face her father, the look of awe and wonder etched on her brow made Bucky almost break. He loved nothing more in his life than you, your daughter, and the little one growing inside of you; his heart clenched at the thought of any of you ever being unhappy. 

“Okay, daddy.” Isabelle nodded her head seriously. 

Your husband kissed you on the top of your head with a smile before turning back to your daughter. “I know Santa is real because I’ve seen him myself.” He whispered causing Isabelle to gasp out loud. 

“You…..ve seen Santa.” She whispered, her little mind spinning with the newly found news.

“Sure have. One Christmas Eve I was coming home late from work, even later than it is right now, and when I opened the door, there was a big man in a red suit with a long white beard. He had the biggest sack of presents I have ever seen. I tried to sneak away but he caught me.” Bucky’s eyes widened to match his daughter’s, her little body clinging to his every word.

“What happened next?”

“He looked at me and said, ‘James Barnes, I know what you seek in life, what you have always sought out. By midday today you will have found what you are looking for.’ And then with a smile and a wink, he flew up the chimney.” 

“Wowwwwww!” Isabelle gaped in disbelief. Her daddy! And Santa Claus! Clearly Santa was real because daddy knew everything and she also knew that daddy would never lie to her. Of course Santa was real! There was just one thing still bothering her. “Dad, what did Santa mean when he said all that weird stuff to you?”

“He meant that I would find mommy. He gave me your mommy. And then he gave me you. My best girls.” 

You looked up to find him beaming at the both of you. Your heart burst with love for him and your little family. Your one true love and happiness.

“I think it’s time we all get back to bed. We don’t want to miss Santa!” You gasped suddenly. “I think I hear footprints on the roof!”

“Oh no, mommy!” your little one gasped and flew off the bed racing down the hall to her bedroom. 

“I love you, Barnes. Thank you for always taking such good care of us.” You whispered your eyes meeting your husband’s.

“I love you, doll. More than you both will ever know.” He smiled and kissed you gently. “Let’s go make sure she’s actually in bed.” He laughed while wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you close as you walked to your daughter’s room.

----

“Night, munchkin. Olive you.” Bucky kissed his daughter’s forehead then pulled away with a smile. 

“Olive you, daddy.” Isabelle giggled while hugging her favorite stuffed animal to her. 

“Tuck the little one in and I’ll meet you back in bed. I have something to finish first but I’ll meet you straight back there.” 

“Babe, you aren’t going to do something stupid.” You gave him a look. That same look your four-year-old gave him just a little while ago. When your husband refused to meet your eye, you tried again. “James.” His cool blue eyes stared back into yours, a hint of threat still clouding his vision as he quietly cursed himself for inability to hide his emotions from you. “Baby, please.” 

Bucky sighed then nodded. He hated to love when you used his first name to get him to calm down. No one else had that power over him, and there was absolutely NO ONE else allowed to call him by his first name other than you. And maybe Santa, if Isabelle was asking. 

“Thank you.” You mouthed before turning to your little one. “Night, baby.” You kissed your daughter’s head with a tired smile. It was just past 3 A.M. and you wanted nothing more than to slip back into your warm bed, your arms around your husband as the both of you drifted off to sleep. “I love you, kiddo. Get some sleep.” 

“I love you. Night, mommy.” She yawned sleepily. You quietly shut the door and went to turn back to your bedroom. You were halfway down the hall when you knew something wasn’t right. And then you heard the yelling. You swore under your breath and ran to the main living room, hoping you would be able to stop your husband before it was too late.

----

“Who told my kid that Santa isn’t real?!” Bucky Barnes’s deep voice boomed through the quiet compound, his footsteps heavy and quick.

 “Shit, shit, shit!” Clint swore as he tripped over himself as he tried to reach his room before he was caught. 

“If I find out –“ Bucky stopped himself mid-sentence his eyes sweeping over every inch of the room. “Barton, if it was you - so help me God! You had better run for your life!” 

“Bucky! *Дорогая, иди спать. [ Dorogaya, idti spat’].”

Bucky turned to face the voice that had just spoken out. A surprised look overtook him for a moment before he started to laugh. “Since when do you know Russian?” he smiled and walked over to you, his previous mission already forgotten as he slipped his arms around your waist.

“Since I married a really sexy Russian Sergeant. Had to know all those dirty words he was moaning in bed.”

“I’m from New York.” He moaned against your lips, pulling your body closer his striking blue eyes staring into your own. 

“Still moan dirty Russian things in bed.” You smile and bring your lips to his. Bucky held you there loving the feeling of how close you two are. “I love you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I love you, Mrs. Barnes.” He smiled while hugging you close. “Let’s get to bed. Don’t want to be awake for when Santa comes.”

“I’ll be right there.” You kissed your husband and patted his butt with a smile as he walked off. You went around turning out the lights stopping at the beautifully lit tree when you heard a door creak.

“He’s gone, Barton. You can come out now.” You called out into the darkness with a laugh. “You owe me.”

“Oh, I’m not Clint, Mrs. Barnes,” a voice replied with a chuckle in their voice. “But I am sure he will still say thank you anyway.” The voice chuckled again; this time louder, deeper causing your eyes to widen. 

You hurried down the hall, trying your best to keep quiet until you reached your room.  

“Babe, what are you doing?” Bucky sleepily looked at you as you ran into the room and dashed under the covers.

“I think Santa is in our living room.” You whispered into the dark. You felt your husband chuckle, his body warm and inviting as he pulled you in closer.

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day and our little one will have us up in only a few hours.” He yawned cuddling into your body.

‘Maybe I am going crazy.’ You shook your head with a smile as your eyes slowly began to close. Just before you drifted off you whispered a goodnight to Santa almost feeling silly to be saying the words out loud. 

Just then you heard a woosh and with a small chuckle a voice said, “To all a good night!”

[yuta-nakamots]

Walk You Home - l.jn

Pairing - Idol!Jeno x Idol!Reader

Genre - Fluff, friends to lovers, kinda crack-ish

Warnings - None (please feel free to let me know if I should add any though)

Summary - You met Jeno when you were a trainee and he had lent you his shoulder to cry on. He became one of your closest friends and one of your best supporters, eventually merging the two and becoming your best friend. Your friendship with Jeno was something you wouldn’t trade for anything, maybe aside for an actual relationship with him.

Word Count - 8.3k

A/N - this is inspired by a dream i had two months ago so it’s not really the best storyline lmao but let me know what you guys think. character inspo drawn from @t-aeycng​ as Soojin because she is truly a wonderful person and you should definitely check out her work as well

You ran up the stairs, stepping onto the stage overlooking the sea of fans, the largest audience you’ve ever performed in front of. You looked away from the crowd and your eyes instead settled on Jeno’s face, wanting nothing more than his comforting frame against yours but that was something you didn’t think you would ever tell him.

Three years ago, when you first joined SM Entertainment, you had left your home country in hopes of pursuing your passion of getting to perform in front of thousands of people. It was spring when you first arrived, you thought it was quite fitting as you were beginning a new chapter of your life just as the Earth was too. When you first came to Korea, you had little knowledge of the language and culture and were immediately labeled as an outcast among the other female trainees. They didn’t exactly mistreat you in any way, they just didn’t include you in activities because they didn’t know you or have any way to communicate with you.

You spent your days holed up in practice rooms and even on the days where you had training sessions with the other girls, most of them barely made any effort to talk to you, excluding one person. Her name is Soojin. From the time you first saw her, you knew she was going to be popular. She was beautiful no matter what angle you looked at her from and she had a personality to match.

After a particularly difficult dance class, all the others had left for the cafeterias, talking about how the teacher was so harsh this time around. The only ones left behind were you, packing up your things, and Soojin who was still practicing what you were taught that day. Right as you were about to leave, she called out your name.

“Do you want to eat together?” She asked, speaking slowly and carefully enunciating her words so you could understand. You were frozen in shock and all you could do was nod your head and shyly say yes.

From that day on, Soojin was essentially your guardian angel. She made sure to introduce you to everyone and include you when they went out together, she helped you develop your language skills and taught you how to get through the weekly tests the trainees were put through. You clung to Soojin the way a baby cub does to its mother.

During the holidays, she told you she wouldn’t be staying at the company and instead, going home to her family. She graciously invited you over, to which you declined, not wanting to embarrass yourself and your elementary speaking skills. You were unsure how you’d function without her, but you’d soon become grateful for that week because that was when you met Jeno.

It was already 9pm yet you were still in a practice room, not quite able to perfect a run in a song you were preparing for the weekly exams. You were tired and lonely, feeling more homesick than ever now that you were left on your own without Soojin to comfort you. You sat down, deciding to let yourself rest for a few minutes as you scrolled through social media and saw your friends and family posting pictures of their festivities together, causing tears to escape from your eyes and you let yourself fully break down, feelings of loneliness and yearning tearing at your heart.

You didn’t know how you missed the sound of the door opening, but suddenly there was a warm hand on your shoulder and a simple “hey” spoken from someone with a warm and rich voice. You looked up and immediately froze on the spot. You had seen other senior artists around the company before but they had never talked to you before, as you were only a trainee and they probably didn’t even know your name, yet here was Jeno, squatting down in front of you, his eyes searching yours to find the reason why you were crying all alone in a practice room.

“Are you okay?” That was all Jeno asked, his hand leaving your shoulder as he sat down in front of you. He waited for a bit as you tried to calm yourself down and dry your tears. “I’m Jeno, but I suppose you already knew that. Your name is?”

“Y/n,” you said, your breath almost catching in your throat as you involuntarily hiccuped, “I’m a trainee and I’ve been in Korea for six months” you told him, just as Soojin had taught you.

You saw Jeno’s features soften as he started to piece together why you were crying. “Your Korean is pretty good for coming only six months ago,” he said before continuing on, “but you shouldn’t be crying alone in a practice room.”

You looked up at him, telling him that usually, you’d be with Soojin but she went home and you’re not really close to any of the other trainees. He nodded his head, seeming to understand your message through your basic Korean. “I really would like to stay and comfort you, but my members are coming soon because we have to practice for one of the end-of-year festivals.”

You pushed yourself off from the ground to unplug your phone from the stereo and pack up, understanding where he was going with this but he followed you, not yet done talking. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like to give you my number so you can contact me whenever Soojin’s not around.” You turned to face him, shock evident on your face. “You won’t be bothering me, I promise,” Jeno said, trying his best to reassure you, “aside from practicing and performing I really don’t do much so you’d be welcome to text me anytime you want someone to talk to. I’d hate for you to go through this alone.”

He fished his phone out from his pocket, opening up a new chat and handing it to you, “here, you can even send the first message so you know that it’s me.” You accepted his offer and typed in your own number along with a short message to let you know it’s Jeno and hit send before handing him back his phone, feeling your own buzz in your hand, and light up showing the message you had just sent.

Unknown Number > y/n 9:15pm: Hello, this is Jeno

Jeno helped you gather your belongings and walked you to the door, even holding it open for you. You gave him a shy ‘thank you’ before stepping out into the hallway and he smiled at you saying that he’ll text you once his own practice is over not even a second before sound of his members coming down the hallway can be heard from their obnoxious yelling and giggling.

Jeno kept his word and as you were getting ready for bed that night in the empty dorm, you received another message from him.

Jeno > y/n 10:31pm: Y/n I just ended my practice and I’m heading to my dorm now. What are you doing?

Y/n > Jeno 10:32pm: Thinking about my next exam. They’re difficult.

Jeno > y/n 10:32pm: Ah, I remember those 10:33pm: I didn’t like them either but it feels good when you look back and see your progress

You maintained the conversation until he told you he arrived at his dorm building, to which he told you he’d text you after he washed up and ate dinner. He indeed texted you, but you were already fast asleep, the crying from earlier finally catching up with you. From then on, not a single week went by where Jeno didn’t text you.

Jeno always made sure to check up on you after an exam, asking how you did, encouraging you when you didn’t do so well, and praising you when you did do well. He even treated you to dinner a few times to congratulate you whenever you earned a B or better. He was pretty much your stand-in Soojin for whenever she was gone or got too busy with other things. He was just as patient as she was when it came to teaching you Korean and explaining things to you, his signature eye-smile showing whenever you repeated a new word back to him.

Soojin was surprised when you told her about your new friend when she came back to the dorms, almost kicking your door down in her excitement to see you, but she later held your hands in excitement saying “I can’t believe my y/n made her first friend on her own! And it’s Jeno! THE Lee Jeno from THE NCT Dream of all people! Maybe I should leave you more often” she joked before flopping down on your bed next to you to hear more about your relationship with Jeno.

Within another year and a half, you had debuted in SM’s newest six-member girl group, with Soojin as your leader, and Jeno wasn’t shy about showing his support for your group. When you coincidentally promoted alongside NCT Dream, he always made sure to wish you good luck before you went on stage and gave you tips after monitoring your performance. On one of the music shows, Jeno and the boys had won first place and they all insisted on keeping you and your group on stage with them.

Jeno’s face lit up when you danced the chorus of the song with him and he burst out in laughter when you imitated his own rapping part. There was something about you, the way you smiled as you clowned him, the way your eyes shone when he complimented your dancing. Jeno was beginning to fall for you.

Fans of both of your groups had noticed your close relationship, and though dating rumors were inevitable, most of them found the two of you to be quite cute together. You had seen a few of the compilation videos they had made for you and him though you only watched a handful of them and never dared to show them to Jeno, not wanting him to get the wrong idea because unbeknownst to him, you were falling for him too.

When the next SMTown concert was announced to be in your home country, you were overjoyed at the thought of being able to go home after two whole years away. You immediately texted Jeno to express your excitement and he matched it, jokingly telling you that he couldn’t wait to meet your friends and family.

A few days later, Jeno texts you asking if you’re free to hang out.

Jeno > y/n  4:38pm: are you free on Wednesday night? 4:38pm: Jaemin wanted to go grocery shopping after practice 4:38pm: Soojin said you guys are running low on toiletries so you can come too if you want

y/n > Jeno 4:47pm: yeah I’m free but I have practice on Wednesday night too

Jeno > y/n 4:50pm: really? What time?

y/n > Jeno 4:51pm: I think Soojin said 7

Jeno > y/n 4:51pm: wait really? That’s when I’m supposed to have practice I think 4:52pm: Renjun and Jisung both said 7 as well 4:52pm: did they tell you which room you’re in?

y/n > Jeno 4:54pm: I think it’s the basement one 4:54pm: don’t know why they have us in that huge one though

Jeno > y/n 4:55pm: no way! We’re supposed to be in the basement too! 4:56pm: do you think they mixed up our schedules on accident?

y/n > Jeno 5:00pm: I just asked my manager, he said that’s the one we’re supposed to be in

Jeno > y/n 5:01pm: that’s what mine just said too! 5:02pm: y/n, do you think...maybe...just maybe…

y/n > Jeno 5:02pm: what, Jen? just say it lol

Jeno > y/n 5:02pm: we’re working together for a performance?!

When you arrived at the basement practice room, the largest one in the building, sure enough, Jeno was in there waiting for you along with the other members of Dream. You ran to him and hugged him out of the sheer excitement coming from the idea that you’d be getting to perform together.

You and Jeno were so overly happy that it made Haechan gag while Jisung plugged his ears with his fingers and made a pained face at Chenle. However, your hug had the opposite effect on Jeno. He felt a burst of butterflies rise from the bottom of his stomach and he excused it as simply being excited to perform with you after having seen your hard work through your trainee days.

The dance your groups would be doing has a little bit of a darker sexy vibe which was something your group had never tried before. While it was something completely new to you, the boys had already done it before so they had fun showing you guys the right expressions and laughing as you and your members tried to copy them.

The type of dance was a little more provocative too and it wasn’t exactly your forte but you tried your best. You caught Jeno looking your way a couple of time but you figure he’s just trying to make sure you’re doing okay. Eventually, you give up trying on your own and you turn to go ask him for help during a break, slightly surprised to see that his eyes were already on you.

“Jeno, I don’t get that one move, the one that goes like this” you say and show it to him, his eyes glued to your figure as he tries to analyze what you’re doing.

You saw his tongue peek out from between his lips, a common habit of his when he’s really thinking, which doesn’t happen very often. “I think you’re being a little too loose with your movements, try tense up your arms and do it sharper” he explained, showing you through his own example.

You tried it again but you could tell you still weren’t doing it right from the way he sighed and moved to stand behind you. You felt the warmth from his chest seeping through both of your shirts and you had to fight the urge to just lean back against his strong shoulders but luckily you’re snapped out of your short daydream by Jeno’s hands wrapping around your wrists to guide your movements.

He ran through it a couple of times and you quickly caught on thanks to his teaching. Just as you turned your head to thank him, Jeno wrapped his arms around your body, embracing you in a hug and bringing his head to rest on your shoulder. Shocked by the close proximity of your faces, you both jump away from each other and start apologizing as your cheeks start to heat up. Fortunately, you were saved from your embarrassment when you hear Soojin calling everyone back from their break and you scampered away to stand with your members.

The head choreographer began pairing people up and you almost let out a squeal when she said you and Jeno would be together. There were no intimate portions of the choreography except for one short moment when you had to stare him down as you circle around each other as if you were ‘two lions about to fight’ as Haechan had explained it.

You and Jeno couldn’t help but giggle and make faces at each other every time that part comes up until both of you got yelled at and caused everyone to have to do push-ups as a punishment, angry glares being cast your way from your members.

The next time that part came up, you’re just slightly startled when Jeno completely switches to his performance mode and looks at you with a sultry glint in his eyes. You’ve seen this look thousands of times before while he’s up on stage whether it be from the sidelines or through a screen, but there was something different when you see it up close and you know his eyes are on you.

You took it as an opportunity to learn from him and try to give him the same gaze back during the following run through and when his eyes meet yours, you see them instantly shift away to somewhere behind you and you let out a slight smirk, finding it amusing how Jeno could still be so shy when you’re merely copying his own actions.

During the final run of the day, his gaze locked with yours and doesn’t wander away for even a second, almost as if he’s challenging you to look away first. You had to remind yourself that it’s just an act that he’s putting on for the sake of the performance, he’s not actually challenging you, though you almost wish he was. As soon as it ends, you’re broken out of the trance that is Lee Jeno himself while he went straight to his members, not even bothering to talk to you and give you feedback like he usually did.

You didn’t know what just happened, but you could feel there was now some sort of tension separating you and Jeno.

As all of you were monitoring the run on the large TV, Renjun laughed while saying “Jeno and Y/n look like they’re about to fight.” Your members giggled at his joke and one of them even calls it a ‘lover’s quarrel’. You didn’t dare look over at Jeno but you could feel his now-familiar gaze locked on you.

As your groups continued practicing together and the concert drew closer and closer, the tension between you and Jeno only grew worse, neither of you interacting with each other aside for during the dance itself. You found yourself itching to talk to him and tell him about the cute hat you saw in a store the other day, or how Soojin almost burnt the kitchen down while cooking dinner the week before. You didn’t have the guts to talk to Jeno, not when his jaw was squared shut and he wouldn’t even look at you unless it was during the dance.

During a break in one of the last rehearsals in Korea, you were playing around with your members and trying to do different tricks like backbends, roundhouses, aerials, and such. You knew these were Jeno’s specialty and you were taken aback when he didn’t come over to show off his skills and instead Jaemin did, though he was nowhere close to being as good as Jeno as he clumsily fell over from the handstand he was doing, causing you to have a fit of laughter.

Jeno doesn’t know why he feels so upset to see you laughing because of his groupmate and he especially doesn’t understand why he feels angry when Jaemin tries to spot you as you do a handstand and end up falling and dragging Jaemin down with you, both of you almost scream-laughing as your bodies lay tangled with each other.

It only gets worse when later that week, as Jeno is eating dinner with the other members, he sees Renjun’s phone light up showing a message from you telling him to enjoy his meal. Jeno didn’t even know the two of you had exchanged numbers and it was starting to drive him insane when your name kept popping up on Renjun’s phone throughout the night and not once on his own.

Renjun catches him staring, to which he leered, “what, lover boy? Are you mad that you can’t keep y/n all to yourself? Just relax, I’m only texting her to learn some phrases before the concert.” Jeno didn’t respond, not wanting to expose the fact that he didn’t even have you anymore, best friend or not.

He finished eating and excused himself from the table, leaving to go wallow in his own self-pity because he had unintentionally broken your friendship. He had realized his own feelings for you during that one dance practice but proceeded to distance himself from you out of fear that acting on his feelings would ruin your relationship, leading to the exact opposite to ruin it. Jeno cried himself to sleep that night hoping that the phrase ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ would hold true on your end, that you were missing him just as much as he was missing you.

The next time you saw Jeno was at the airport when all the company was getting ready to leave for your home country. He was wearing a simple outfit consisting of a plain black t-shirt with his black joggers along with a black snapback and his glasses to complete his plain yet oh so attractive full black outfit.

You were sitting in the lounge area with your members and one of them pointed him out and commented on how good he looks. You glanced over just in time to see him momentarily take his hat off and run a hand through his soft, light brown hair before placing his hat back on his head.

You felt a slight shiver go up through your spine as you watched him do such a simple action yet you were unnerved to hear that one of your members found him attractive even if you did too and you knew thousands of his fans did as well. Maybe distance made your heart grow fonder of him, given all the time the two of you spent away from each other and just wanting your best friend back. A few minutes later, after zoning out for a while, you were brought back to reality by your phone vibrating, showing three messages from Jaemin whose number you had gotten through Renjun.

Jaemin > y/n 8:16am: what rows do you guys have? 8:17am: we have 13 and 14. I’ll be sitting with Jisung 8:17am: he overpacked his snacks so now I have some of them. You’re more than welcome to come over and help yourself to them

Y/n > Jaemin 8:18am: we’re 16 and 17 8:18am: i’m not that hungry right now but I just stop by during the flight

You indeed took Jaemin up on his offer about halfway through the flight when your members were complaining about not liking the food being served. You mentioned how Jaemin had snacks he didn’t mind sharing and they immediately begged you to get them from him. You had forgotten to wear a hoodie so you were snuggled into the airline blanket for warmth, not wanting to leave your spot, but you ultimately lost a game of rock paper scissors so you had no other choice but to shake off the blanket and brace yourself for the cold.

As you trudged your way up a few rows, you easily find Jisung due to his large frame, though he was asleep while Jaemin was nowhere to be found, presumably having gone to the bathroom. You didn’t even bother looking around you to see where the other members were, your only goal in mind being the snacks in Jaemin’s bag because the quicker you found them, the quicker you could go back to your warm seat.

You opened up the overhead compartment and spotted Jaemin’s bag, though it was almost out of your reach. You raised yourself onto your tip-toes as you struggled to reach it when suddenly there was a warm hand on your waist and someone against your back. You froze, watching as the stranger easily grabbed the backpack and brought it down safely, handing it to you.

You turned around only to find Jeno looking down at you. It felt like a whole minute passed as you both just stared at each other, neither of you wanted to speak first, when really only a few seconds went by before Jaemin came walking down the aisle.

“Ah, y/n, you came!” He exclaimed, taking his backpack from your hold and unzipping it, “Sorry, I was in the bathroom, but I’m glad you were able to find my bag” he said, opening it up and showing you all the snacks he had. “Did you want some too, Jeno?” he asked, noticing Jeno’s presence behind you.

“No, I just came by to ask Jisung something,” he stated, “but I’ll come by later since he’s asleep” he said, already turning to walk back to his seat.

Once he was out of earshot, Jaemin sighed before telling you, “he’s been acting really weird lately. Even in the dorms, he’s all quiet and moody and none of us know why.”

“Maybe he’s on his man-period” you quipped while you took a few snacks from the bag while Jaemin rolled his eyes at your immature joke. You thanked him for the snacks and made your way back to your group members who were overjoyed when you handed them the bags of chips and dried fruit, all the bags opened within mere seconds. You only ate a bit, preferring to wait until you got to the hotel where you could eat room service food instead.

About an hour later, Soojin, who was sitting next to you, got up and told you she was going to the bathroom. You hum in response to let her know you heard. Not even a whole minute passes by before she sits back down next to you. You looked up from the game on your phone, asking her “did you even wash your hands-”, but you stopped midsentence when you realized you were looking at the face of Jeno, not Soojin.

Before you could say anything else, Jeno already blurted out the words, “I’m sorry.” You were still in shock, continuing to look at him with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Jeno continued on anyways, “look I know I’ve been really cold and distant towards you for the past few weeks but that’s because...because-,” you noticed him fidgeting with his hands and you shifted in your seat to face him and look him in the eyes, “because I have feelings for you” he said, his words coming out almost too fast for you to process.

“Y/n, I didn’t want my feelings to ruin our relationship because I truly do treasure what we had, or had, as best friends, yet I allowed myself to break us apart somehow and I really do feel like shit because of it-”

“Jeno, it’s okay-” you began, cutting him off.

“No, y/n, it’s not okay,” he interjected, resuming his previous thought, “especially since you are finally returning home after two years away, I want you to be happy during this time,” his hands now shifting to play with a loose thread hanging from his shirt, “and I want to be able to be with you and share that happiness because I still remember the broken-hearted girl who was crying by herself in the practice room from homesickness.”

“Jeno, I...wow, I don’t know what to say” you mumbled, letting yourself fall into your seat, your thoughts running wild in your head.

“I know this is extremely sudden, but I just want our old relationship back. I want to stand by your side and watch you smile. I won’t even bother asking you to be my girlfriend because I know you’re going to reject me so don’t worry about that” he stated, dejection obvious in his voice.

Your head snapped up to face him, “what if I told you that I wouldn’t reject you?” Now it was Jeno’s turn to be stunned speechless. “I need some time to think this, to think us over” you confessed, motioning between the two of you to get your point across. “I need time, but I’m willing to be friends first before anything else” you conclude.

Jeno was wringing out his hands and picking his nails while smiling as he whispered “thank you” before he froze when you pulled him into a hug.

“I missed you” you murmured into his ear.

Jeno allowed himself to sink into your embrace before telling you “I missed you too.”

Both of you stayed there, enjoying the feeling of finally holding each other after being apart for so long until you pulled away to grab your phone just as it was about to slide off your lap. The display lit up and you realized you’ve been talking to Jeno for well over ten minutes, which made you worry about Soojin as she still hasn’t returned from the bathroom yet.

“I think I’m gonna go check on Soojin” you said, taking the blanket off of you as you stood up from your seat.

Jeno grabbed your hand before you could step out into the aisle. “She’s in my seat with Chenle,” he reassured, “I ran into her when she was leaving the bathroom and I asked her if she’d be okay with staying with Chenle for a bit while I talk to you.” You peered over the rows in front of you, and you found Chenle’s blonde head indeed next to your leader just as she playfully shoved him, no doubt playing that kart rider game everyone was obsessed with recently.

As you sat back down, relieved at knowing Soojin was okay, you shivered due to the few seconds you were exposed to the cold air hitting your skin as you searched for her. You do your best to steel yourself and not show Jeno that you were cold, knowing that he’d scold you, but he already knew you’d be cold when he saw you in the airport only in a t-shirt and leggings.

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” he says, more of a rhetorical and sarcastic than anything, answering his own question muttering “of course you are” as he leans back to take off his hoodie, unintentionally flashing you his abs in the process causing both of you to shy away from each other as he hands you your saving grace of the flight. You gratefully took the hoodie from him, letting out a sigh of relief when you pull it down over your body and feel its warmth made from Jeno’s body heat.

Jeno stayed with you for the rest of the flight and only leaves to go back to his seat when the flight attendant announces that the plane will be landing shortly. Luckily, your members were asleep and hadn’t witnessed your exchange with Jeno but they knew something was up when they saw you in the hoodie you certainly did not have on earlier.

Soojin smiled at you as she returned to her seat, buckling herself in while telling you “I’m glad you and Jeno are talking again. Not gonna lie, it was pretty awkward during rehearsals.” She only chuckled when you shrunk into the hoodie, pulling the strings of the hood closed over your face to hide your embarrassment.

By the time you arrived at the hotel, you were dead tired. You just wanted to shower and go to sleep which is exactly what you do once you reach your shared hotel room with Soojin.

You crawled into your bed, freshly showered and already half-asleep, ready to succumb to your exhaustion. Right as you were about to doze off, you heard your phone go off, pulling you out of your near-sleeping state. You reached around for it and turned it on silent once you got your hands on it, reading the notification that had rudely awakened you.

Jeno > y/n 12:13am: You looked really tired earlier so I’m pretty sure you’re already sleeping, but I hope you rest well. Only one more rehearsal tomorrow (today? Because it’s already midnight??) and we’ll be performing in front of your friends and family the day after! Let’s do well :)

y/n > Jeno 12:16am: I was almost about to fall asleep but I’m not mad only because it’s you 12:17am: Let’s show them the most powerful best friend duo in the world

You saw that Jeno had immediately read your message but you didn’t bother waiting for his response, already drifting off to sleep once again, though you wouldn’t have gotten a response anyways because Jeno thought you just friend-zoned him.

From the start of your day, you were already swamped with activities, shooting tons of videos in your native language to thank your fans and prompt your group while also being an in-house translator for your other members as they shot their own individual videos. It wasn’t until after the full rehearsal started that you were finally allowed some time to slow down and rest. Your group had already finished the first performance in the show and now you were in the on-deck area waiting for NCT Dream to meet you guys for your short joint rehearsal before going on stage.

You heard them coming before you even see them, the infamous “hi everyone! This is Haechan cam with 37.5% viewer ratings” greeting ringing out from the hallway. You and your members didn’t know he’d be filming so you hadn’t done anything to take care of your appearances like hair and makeup but all of you respectfully stood up to greet him and the other Dream members.

Your members grumbled amongst themselves as Haechan left the camera filming during your on-stage rehearsal, saying how they hoped this section wouldn’t get aired because none of you looked good without your hair and makeup done as you all fell into formation. You hadn’t noticed Jeno’s presence behind you, “I think you look nice, don’t let the girls tell you otherwise”, his short affirmation startling you, barely having time to shoot him a quick smile before the music started playing.

You didn’t bother doing facial expressions since it was only a rehearsal and you already felt so drained. When it came time for the dreaded eye contact portion with Jeno, you were expecting the normal fierce look but instead, you were met with his eyes smile as he made faces at you, almost making you laugh. Jeno’s heart fluttered when he saw the grin you were holding back, happy that he was able to brighten your day, even if it was only for a few seconds. If this was all he could do to lift your mood, then that was what he would do.

The previous night, Jeno had convinced himself that no matter what happens between the two of you, friend zone or not, he was going to make sure you were happy and fully enjoyed this short trip because you deserved it. You were home, and home was the whole reason why he had met you crying in the practice room on that fateful night. He told himself that he’d deal with his own unrequited feelings later but for you, he’d temporarily push them aside so he could watch you flourish in the place you loved so dearly.

Bringing you back to the current moment, as you walk out across the stage alongside your members to meet the boys of Dream in the middle. You look into the ocean of people, admiring the colors of the lightsticks and their almost hypnotizing effect paired with the screams from the audience.

You are beyond nervous, Jeno could tell that much from the way you struggle to find his face, even more so to meet his eyes. During the performance, when you again gazed over at him, ready for his predatory look, you saw another batch of his funny expressions, though this time you didn’t try to hide the smile that crept onto your face as he ruined his image.

To Jeno, he doesn’t care about all the bad pictures he’d see of himself or the whooping he’d get from the performance directors later. He was willing to endure it all if it was for you.

By the end of the concert, you were spent, all your energy thrown out of your body from dancing and rapidly switching between languages to translate all too frequently. When you joined all the senior artists for the final stage, you let your body go on autopilot as you wandered around, trailing behind your group as you tried to read all the signs and banners the fans were holding up.

You were lost in your own world until you felt two very strong and familiar arms wrap around your waist, almost scaring you enough to jump off the edge of the stage. You hear Jeno’s laugh from behind you and you whip around ready to beat him up for nearly shoving you off the stage but you stop in your tracks when he extends his arms out to show you a large banner of your country’ flag with the words “We Love You Y/N” stitched onto it.

You felt your heart swell with pride as you immediately took the item from Jeno and turned to face the audience, doing your best to hold it up, though your arms alone weren’t enough. Jeno grabbed the end of the flag that was almost touching the ground as he laughed at you while helping you to fully show the flag and thank the fans.

After you let them take a few pictures, you wrapped it around your shoulders and happily skipped off to rejoin your group, Jeno hot on your tracks as all the artists go into a line to do the final bow all together. As you ran past your members, Jeno snatched onto you, pulling you into the line right where your two groups met, lacing his fingers with yours as you both raised your arms up to bow to the audience. If only both of you could feel what the other was feeling, you’d know that the tingle of excitement you both felt was not one-sided.

When everyone came together for the group picture, you ended up getting smashed between the countless members of NCT alongside Soojin whose hand you had grabbed onto during the bow. As the cameraman started to count down, you were suddenly lifted into the air, feeling hands on both sides of your hips. You looked down to see Jeno on one side and Soojin on the other as they held you up, causing your smile to grow wider just in time as the camera flashed.

After they put you down, you turned around and caught Soojin leaning it to whisper something into Jeno’s ear, a simple “I will” was all he said in response. Once Soojin had already walked away, you were about to ask Jeno what she said, but he acted faster, almost aggressively pulling you into a back-hug with on arm around your waist, the other being used to wave at fans and point out the signs with your name and pictures on them.

You don’t know if it’s the close proximity of your bodies or simply the excitement from being able to pick out your own fans and thank them, but you felt a rush of adrenaline as you walked with Jeno. You looked up at him, admiring his side profile, finally understanding why his fans always called him a prince as you felt your palms grow sweaty and your heart skip a beat. Maybe you had just realized your own feelings for Jeno.

Once the two-day concert was over, you stop by at your manager’s hotel room to ask if you were allowed to go out for the day, the urge to visit your hometown feeling stronger than ever. He graciously said yes, telling you to let him know if you needed any help and to be sure to take someone else along for safety measures. You thanked him and ran off towards the elevator, hitting the number of the floor you knew Jeno was on rather than heading back to your own.

You excitedly jogged down the hallway to his room and knocked on his door after double-checking his text message to make sure you had the right room. Jaemin opened the door, greeting you with his loud “ohoho!”

“Jaemin shut up, oh my gosh,’ you gasped, not wanting someone to file a noise complaint, “I’m here to ask Jeno about something.”

Jaemin pulled you into the room while yelling “yah, Jeno Lee, your girlfriend is here!” much to your embarrassment. Just as you were about to whine at him and deny Jaemin’s statement, you saw Jeno shoot up from where he was lying on his bed, grabbing the blanket in a failed effort to cover his naked torso and he flung himself off the bed, looking for a shirt to put on. You swear you could see a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks as he rummaged through his suitcase but you don’t know if it’s from the lighting of the room or if he’s actually blushing. You choose to believe the first option, not wanting to give yourself false hope.

You sat down on Jeno’s bed as you asked, “do you wanna go out with me?” to which Jeno froze in place as he tried to process your words. “I mean, would you like to go and spend the day with me because I want to go home and show you where I grew up” you blurted, quickly rephrasing your words as your own cheeks began to heat up.

Jeno only grunted a response, letting you know that he did want to go with you as he threw a shirt over his head. Jaemin let out a laugh of excitement while clapping his hands and squealing “eeheehee my babies are going on their first date together! Make sure to bring Nana some delicious snacks!”

“Yeah, we’ll get you the strawberry ones you love so much” Jeno said, causing Jaemin to pout as he flopped onto his bed. Before Jaemin could pester either of you any further, Jeno was already grabbing his things and pulling you out the door.

On the elevator ride down to the lobby, Jeno asked “so where exactly are we going today?” You pulled your phone out of your pocket and showed him pictures of your favorite restaurant from you old neighborhood as you searched up the directions on google maps. You started telling him about all the memories you had there and how good the food was, and though Jeno was listening to you, he was really only paying attention to your face. He loved the way the edges of your crinkled when you smiled, the was your eyes shone when you talked with so much excitement.

Once both of you were in one of the company vans and you had already given the directions to the staff member who’d be driving, you decided to take a nap in your seat, already dozing off before you had even left the hotel parking lot. Jeno took a moment to admire your sleeping form next to him, finding you just as beautiful as when you’re awake. He took a few pictures of you, not wanting to let this moment go to waste before he too allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

You woke up to Jeno gently shaking you and telling you that you’re outside the restaurant, your half-asleep state barely even remembering which country you were in. You took a few seconds as your brain started functioning again and you wasted no time in yanking the door open and thanking the staff member as you jumped out of the van, Jeno following your actions as you nearly ran into the restaurant.

The second you set foot through the entrance, the sounds and the smells brought back so many memories and you almost teared up though you quickly brushed it off as you switched into your native language and asked the hostess for a table for two. As you followed her through to all so familiar restaurant, Jeno looked around, admiring the artwork scattered across the walls as he said the phrase ‘so beautiful’ in your language.

You whipped around when you recognized the words he just whispered, “how do you even know how to say that?”

“Oh, I uh, learned it for you,” he stuttered sheepishly, his hand going to scratch the back of his head, “I wanted to be able to talk to you and the fans better so I’ve been learning it on the side” he explained, a slightly awkward silence falling upon both of you as you sat down at the table, thanking the hostess as she handed you the menus.

The silence was quickly broken when Jeno started asking you about the different dishes, his mind overloaded with the foreign language, and all the different options. You tried your best to explain them to him, though he ultimately ended up just letting you choose his food for him, trusting your judgment more than his at this point.

Lunch with Jeno consisted of him being amazed by the food and cutely repeating phrases you were teaching him and you taking pictures and videos of him, wanting to save this moment into your memories.

Once both of your stomachs were full and you had fought with Jeno over who’d be paying the bill, Jeno won, of course, you took a breath of fresh air as you walked out of the restaurant, reaching your arms up over your head while yawning as you felt the beginning of a food coma start to take form.

You made Jeno call the staff member to pick you up and take you to another location you thought Jeno would like as you skipped down the road to one of your favorite parks. He ended the call after he sent the address of the park and ran to catch up with you. You heard him coming so you kept skipping along until he got closer and suddenly stopped, essentially brake checking him and cracking up as he slammed into you, nearly knocking both of you to the floor.

As you grab onto him to stop him from actually falling face-first into the floor, you interlocked your fingers with his and pulled him over to the playground you used to hang out at with your friends all throughout elementary and middle school. It stopped before high school though because this was also where you had your first heartbreak the summer before your freshman year.

One humid summer night, you were here with your crush and you had finally worked up the guts to ask them out thanks to the confidence of starting a new chapter of your life. You were undeniably broken when they rejected you and walked away without even bothering to tell you why. You sat on the swing set, allowing your tears to fall in silence.

You tell this story to Jeno as you sit at that same swing set, his strong arms gently pushing you forward every so often. “How about I make this place a happier memory for you?” he suggests, moving to stand in front of you, his hands grabbing the chains of the swing to stop your momentum.

You let confusion overtake your face as your feet settle on the dirt beneath the swings, fully stopping your movement and looking up at Jeno. “Y/n, I just want you to know how utterly thankful I am to have met you,” he began, making sure to hold eye contact with you, “you’ve brought so much joy and happiness to me without even knowing it and i’m glad to be your best friend. I would’ve never thought that we’d become so close due to our backgrounds but that’s what makes our friendship so special.” He pauses, trying to carefully piece together his next sentence. “I know I told you that I have feelings for you, but even if I can only stay by your side as a friend, I’m more than happy to do just that as long as you are happy-”

You abruptly stand up, cutting him off midsentence as you let your hands go to his which were frozen in place from where he was previously anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt. “Jeno, I’d like to give us a chance.” His eyes widened as he looked at you, not believing what he was hearing. “I’d like to give us a chance if it’s okay with you” you confess as Jeno smiles at you before pulling you into his embrace.

You hug him back, letting yourself get lost in his scent, your head resting on his shoulder. “Does this mean I’m your girlfriend now?” you ask, giggling into his chest.

You lean back slightly to see him nod as he said “Y/n, the girlfriend to the one and only Lee Jeno”, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. He still held onto you, not even bothering to pull away when he pulls his phone out of his pocket to answer a call from the staff member who’d be picking you up.

Once he ends the call, he kept his phone out to check the time and you felt all giddy when you see that his wallpaper is a picture from the concert of him and Soojin holding you up as if you were Simba, your laughter caught and preserved in time. “You know, Jeno, one day I’m gonna be able to hold you up like that” you muse.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t set your hopes too high” he teases. You were about to hit him but he took off running towards the company van.

You chase after him yelling “Lee Jeno, this isn’t how you treat your girlfriend!”

He only laughs as he shouts back, “best friend first, girlfriend second” causing you to roll your eyes as you continue to run after him.

A/N - this is inspired by a dream i had two months ago so it’s not really the best storyline lmao but let me know what you guys think. character inspo drawn from @t-aeycng​ as Soojin because she is truly a wonderful person and you should definitely check out her work as well

@nct-writers​

[punkgrogg]

Doorway Duo pt.2

Pairing: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader, Hybrid!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Hybrid!BTS, Non idol AU, fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy

Summary: Y/n was abandoned by her long time boyfriend and moves back home to help prepare for the baby. She’s surprised to find two unfamiliar hybrids at her house.

Length: 2,456 words

Notes: Sorry for the long wait, this summer has been one disaster and tragedy (my grandpa, great grandma, and college friend have all passed) after another but I’m almost finished with part 3 so I’ll be posting that in the next couple of days. 

Date posted: 7/26/2020

Pregnancy sucks.  My back hurts and my feet are sore after just a few hours walking. Not to mention the overall discomfort of my body swelling up to accommodate the new human developing inside of it. Luckily I only have about three more months of this left and I could finally hold my baby boy. Yeah, Hobi was right. He claimed that it was his hybrid genes that made him privy to this information but Kook calls bullshit- he and Tae had been hoping it was a girl.

In the past two months of staying back home, I’ve seemed to bond super well with the two new hybrids. At first, it was easy to become friends with Tae, he was overly friendly and followed me around after our first-day meeting. Once my baby bump became prominent I could keep him away; he spent most of his waking hours cooing at my stomach. I had to work a bit harder to get Jungkook to open up to me and all it took was a few weeks of calling Taehyung his nickname.  Apparently, he was just shy and wanted to be my friend also but he was jealous that Tae got to be called Tae. I called him Kook since then and all shyness flew out the door. He and Tae were both so energized all the time and both so caring. Today they insisted on accompanying me to the store because they didn’t want me to accidentally overwork myself. Hobi tagged along too, not wanting to be left behind at the house alone.

I was flanked by both Jungkook and Taehyung the moment we entered the store but this is something I've had to get used to.  Another thing I’ve had to get used to is that Taehyung was very touchy. His hands are always in contact with some part of my body and today he had wrapped his arm around my waist and his fingers traced small circles into my side as we strolled down the aisles. Usually, I wasn’t someone who liked to be held all the time but with Tae, it never bothered me, it was actually comforting most of the time. Hobi strolled a few feet ahead of us while he was bickering with Taehyung over the chips that were tossed into the cart.  The great chip debate happened every time we went to the store, Hoseok had a weird taste when it came to snacks and my other brothers and I had long gotten over it. 

Jungkook was hovering on my right- so close that our knuckles brushed as we walked- his presence a constant that I’ve become accustomed to these last few weeks.  He was back to his quiet guy persona, it probably would stay this way until we got home. Hobi thought it was funny when we went out in public together- said that Jungkook changes gear into high alert one I became a variable. It was hard for me to imagine him outside of the two versions of him that I knew, the quiet and shy versus the playful and relaxed.  At home, Jungkook was the one to cajole me into chasing him throughout the house but whenever I turn a corner too fast he’s there with arms outstretched to catch me. 

Taehyung too acted a bit differently when we went out, usually he was a bundle of energy and excitement that couldn’t be contained but in public, he seemed to change into a startling somber man who would then meld himself to my side once out the door. I guess this fed into his protective instincts as well.  Tae was the one who was most concerned with my well being in the house. He responded to every grunt and whimper I’ve made since I’ve moved in. He forced me into weekly self-care nights and rushed to prevent me from overworking myself no matter the task. I would think that it was charming normally but because of him, I’ve been banned from dish duty after accidentally cutting my finger after moving in. 

My parents had warned me that the three hybrids in the house might change a bit while the pregnancy developed but if I were uncomfortable then I should let them know right away. Hoseok was the same Hoseok as ever- a beam of sunshine in my monotonous life. He has spent increasingly more time outside of our house - going on dates with some mysterious guy. He has stopped teasing me a much this past week or two and instead teases Jungkook and Taehyung twice as much. Jungkook and Tae have obviously turned into my pseudo bodyguards and that can probably be chalked up to their hybrid instincts. 

Why else would these two hang onto me so closely?   I thought to myself as I focused on a sign for a buy one get one half off deal for oatmeal. Dad liked oats in the morning but there didn’t seem to be any of his favored cinnamon flavors. Taehyung suddenly ripped me out of my peaceful bubble by tugging me into his side abruptly. Jungkook stood in front of me while I could hear Hoseok apologize profusely. Both Taehyung and Jungkook had their faces twisted into scowls as they peered down at the man huddled on the floor. He looked familiar.

His curly blonde hair seemed to be what struck me with a name on the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t quite place him, how many blonde men did I know? Not many other than that Jimin guy Hobi brought around since high school. I couldn’t place him until he glanced over where I was peeking out over Jungkook’s shoulder. His eyes were blue, an icy pale blue that was the same color as his. This was Henry’s little brother. Was it Darren? Or maybe David? It was hard to recall as Henry was coles with his family. Especially after their parents divorced and He had been the only child to go live with his dad. I had only met David a few times over the almost six years we had been together. 

“Y/n?”  He asked, his eyes lighting up in recognition. Hobi- who was interrupted mid apology for ramming into him with the cart- looked back at me with inquisitive eyes. Taehyung tried to pull me closer to his side but this once I resisted and stepped from the overwhelming protection of the Duo. 

“David? Last I saw you, you were a scrawny little beanpole.” I teased light-heartedly as I stood next to Hobi. David’s cheeks flushed as he stood up and straightened out his clothes. 

“Uh, well, I grew up. It’s been three years so how’s it been going? Henry said you guys split up.” His eyes seemed to be glued to my stomach. My stomach was big, especially for how far along I was at only six months of my pregnancy but I was already passing the size of a watermelon. My hands came up to cradle my stomach. 

I forced a smile, “Yeah, we did. It’s been about six months, I think? I’ve been doing good though.” 

It was then that my blood ran cold. Rounding the corner behind David was the man I never wanted to see again. Henry.  These last few months haven’t fully rid me of the sting of abandonment and no matter how much I’ve been coddled - it could never erase the pain and loneliness that I’ve had to overcome. I could feel my brother tense up beside and his threats to ‘rip out his throat’ came ringing in the back of my head. I calmly reached out and held onto his forearm gently.

Henry’s attention was fully focused on the bakery box in his hands and he only glanced up at his brother. He quickly did a double-take when he noticed that there were five looming figures instead of just the one. He skimmed over the group of strangers until he locked eyes with me. His feet took root and held him back a few feet away as he gawked. 

“Baby? That's my baby?” he managed to choke out while his eyes bugged out of his head. David’s jaw dropped and suddenly, with both their gazes trained on me, I felt so much smaller than just a few moments ago.  I could feel panic clawing at my throat as it rattled its way out of my chest at the sudden turn of events. That’s until a warm firm hand grasped onto my elbow as the familiar towering presence materialized behind me. Jungkook. His hold quelled my panic almost instantly. I fixed a terse smile at Henry, my face changing a calm disposition.

“No. You were right: there was no way it could be your baby.” I could feel the acid dripping from my lips as I forced a saccharine sweet smile at the asshole.

Henry’s face quickly snapped out of the shocked expression, almost as quickly as his face took on a reddened hue. “So you were a fucking whore and got knocked up by some hybrid? Should have known, your family is way too close to those fucking freaks.” He kept his eyes trained on Jungkook’s hand holding onto me.

“Oh, I knew you were a piece of shit the first time she brought you home.” Hoseok laughed unamused. He abandoned the cart only to stalk towards Henry, stopping with barely six inches left between the two. “The only thing keeping me from tearing you limb from limb right now is the fact that she begged me to, One more comment from your limp-dicked self will be more than enough to break my self-control. This is the last time you’ll ever speak to her or her children. Understood?” Henry nodded quickly with a face painted in fear. 

Taehyung stepped forward and turned the cart around. Jungkook tugged me along and rubbed his hand on my arm in comfort. Tae swiped a few boxes of snack cake of the shelf as we hurried away and a sudden ringing sound of a slap rang out through the aisle.  No-one turned around. As we approached the lines for check out I could hear the squeaking of Hobi’s sneakers as he ran to catch up with us.  His hands replaced Jungkook’s as he tugged me into his chest. 

He tucked my head under his chin and held me tightly, so tight that he managed to squeeze out the few tears I was managing to fight back. He only tightened his grasp as he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. He let go momentarily to wrench his wallet out of his back pocket so he could exchange it for keys from Jungkook. He pulled me out from under the judging stares of the cashiers and led me to the parking lot. As we neared the car he hugged me closer to his side so he could press his cheek against the top of my head. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. 

“No. I’m sorry I let you be with that asshole. I failed as a big brother.” he sighed despondently and I could feel the guilt twisting my stomach into knots.

“No, you’re the best one I got. I’m sorry he said that about you, I’ve never heard him say anything like that before. I love you Hobi, you’re my sunshine.” I cried as I held onto his shirt.

“I know you don’t think of me that way or the guys. I can remember you fighting punks like that at the park growing up. His dumbass will never affect how much I love my snot-nosed baby sister.” he pulled away and leveled me with a soft smile, forcing me to return one. 

“Did you hit him? You could get in a lot of trouble.” I bit onto my lip as I imagined the terrible consequences. He could lose his job at the shelter. He could be marked aggressively by the government and taken away. He could be arrested.

His warm soft hands squished my cheeks as he made me face him. “Aw, is our little Y/n worried about her big brother? Don’t worry my princess, bubby didn’t hurt him. His brother slapped the socks off him. I was shocked.”  His blinding smile finally returned and could hear a cart being pushed behind us. I turned to see Taehyung standing on the front of the cart with a big smile as he waved to us; Jungkook was running full speed at the handle of the cart. 

I laughed at the two idiots as they barely managed to stop before crashing into my car. Taehyung’s hands flew forward to brace himself against the trunk. Jungkook laughed heartily as Taehyung started to yell at him for almost squishing him. 

“Kook, are you driving us back?” I asked to save him from the snow leopard. He nodded as Hobi tossed him the keys. Kook popped the trunk while Hobi and Tae tossed in the few bags of groceries. Jungkook steered away from the cart and we all filed into the car wordlessly. I was in the passenger seat with Hobi behind me. There seemed to be a heavy curtain of silence surrounding us all. 

“Taehyung, Jungkook, I’m sorry for what Henry said.” I pointedly kept my attention at the fast-changing scenery. They were both silent until I could feel hot breath against my neck. A chin rested on my shoulder while a nose pressed itself between my ear and jawline. 

“Why are you sorry? Did you teach him to hate hybrids?” Tae’s deep voice was just barely louder than a whisper but it echoed in my heart. I whipped my head towards him, my eyebrows pinched together harshly, only to see the grin plastered on his face.

“You know I don’t think like that. Don’t tease me like that, I was apologizing because you guys don’t deserve to be spoken to like that. You’re people; kind, caring people.” I glared at him with no heat while his smile only widened. 

“We do know, that’s why we weren’t mad. It's something that happens and we can’t help that we’re used to it. We were actually pissed at that asshat.” Jungkook harrumphed in agreement and I could feel the knot loosen in my stomach. 

“I’ve been trying to join Team Hate Henry since we moved in and Hoseok hasn’t allowed it. I bet Namjoon will let us in now.” Jungkook smirked back at Hobi who squeaked in protest.

“Namjoon cannot know that we met with him. He would actually kill him.” I interjected, my fear helping me envision Joonie in an orange jumpsuit. 

Jungkook side-eyed me before smirking at me, “ Would that be so bad?”

 Tag list! just let me know if you want added.

@jelly-fishy-babie @nomimits7 @littlewolfieposts

[rosy-cheekx]

Heat Without Warmth, Light Without Sight

This fic is for the @tma-valentines-exchange and was written for @barnabasbennett (pretty sure, at least!) AO3 link is in the source! Based on the prompt: rewrite episode 159 to feature Tim and Archivist!Sasha.

I’ve been waiting SO LONG to post this! I hope you like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One: Embers

The archives are quiet. So quiet. Sasha can hear the tick of the clock on her desk and the hum of the radiator she had brought in so many months ago, back when her biggest concern was how cold her Archivist office was. Before the idea of heat reminded her of Tim in oh-so-many painful ways.

The Unknowing had been…bad. Daisy had been imprisoned in The Choke, Sasha left unconscious and Basira forever changed. She had seen it, she told Sasha later, the way Tim had stood amidst the rubble of plastic mannequins and brick and mortar, unscathed as smoke billowed into the sky, silhouetted in greys and blacks. It was terrifying, she said, in a completely different way than the Unknowing had been. Basira described Tim as unstoppable in that moment, a train bulleting towards destruction and revenge, a rage in his eyes that only intensified when he saw the unconscious form of Sasha James, bruised and lying in the rubble.

In Sasha’s six-month coma, she had missed a lot. Martin had explained things to her; a sad compassion in his eyes as he stirred sugar into tea. Tim had fallen to the Desolation, The Cult of The Lightless Flame calling him home after they had heard about his sudden resilience to heat and flame. It made sense. Tim had experienced so much loss and destruction in his life, losing Danny and Jon (and, temporarily, Sasha) due to the machinations of The Stranger. His connection to the Desolation had probably been growing when none of them, not even Tim, had noticed. Sasha tried reaching out to him; Tim was still employed by the Magnus Institute after all, but he was sullen at his desk, the air around him smelling faintly of burnt hair and the iced coffees he used to love now simmering slightly in his mug. Sasha didn’t think he could’ve been any more withdrawn than he had been in the ramp up to stopping the Stranger. But here he was, prickly and cold and altogether uninterested in Sasha’s attempts to reconnect with him.

Sasha unfolds the letter, singed at the corners. She must have just missed him. Again. Her heart pounds in her chest as she reads the words, written the slanted, neat print she knew so well.

Sasha,

If nothing else, I will miss you. But that loss is essential, Jude says, to feeding the spark that binds us all. They think Agnes Montague’s spark passed to me when I decided my loss of life was more important than the survival of The Stranger and their ritual. Something about total commitment to pain, self-destruction, etc. There is some satisfaction in knowing how unhappy they are about it, especially Jude. I think she really wanted to be special. You’d hate her. Maybe it’s cliché, but I don’t think I’m coming back from this. It all began, and it all must end. Who knows? Maybe I’ll finally be able to quit.

I    You are truly unforgettable, boss,

Tim.

Sasha had seen so many of the people she loved fall to the fears of this world in which they find themselves trapped. The loss of Jon had come first, when the thing that Was Certainly Not Jon had stolen him away under their noses. This discovery had come with the loss of the heart of their office: Martin. Realizing he had been in love with a lie had broken something in him, and while Sasha did her best to show him compassion, she couldn’t imagine going through it all in his place. The nature of Gertrude’s death had shocked her; Sasha had known her, had seen such a strong woman she had been. To see (or rather hear) her death reduced to a few cowardly gunshots felt…inadequate. Daisy had become softer after surviving the Buried, kinder to Sasha, but there the Hunt was still there, deep in her. Basira and Melanie were fine, but evasive, suspicious, too eager to wield a knife. And now?

Sasha had no friends, no one she could truly trust, no one left besides Tim. She hadn’t stopped trying to care for him, to make herself available, but she refused to keep her heart open for someone so clearly eager to move away from it all, even if that was motivated by a cult of fire and destruction and pain. But that love she had for Timothy Stoker was still there, the idiot who took her out for drinks and dressed up as her once for April Fool’s and had them all over for Guy Fawkes Day (should she had guessed it then, his eyes illuminated by the pyre, drinking in the light and heat of the flames?) and insisted he cook for everyone whenever he got the chance.

Eyes sweeping over the letter over and over, she read the words, trying to hear each of them in his voice, feeling something in her gut twist as she read her name is his handwriting, in his voice, over and over. Tim had said it so many ways: with mirth, frustration, exhaustion, and warmth. There was still so much left to say. There were so many more ways for him to say her name, and Sasha wanted to hear them all.

This letter? This would not be the last time he said her name. Sasha James, the Archivist, would make damn sure of that.

-

Sasha is hurrying through the Institute when she almost collides with Elias Bouchard. His hair is unkempt, shaggy from his time in prison, but he is dressed immaculately, black dress shirt rolled to his elbows and a tie that seemed to shimmer yellow-green when it catches the light.

“You-Elias, what the hell?” Sasha takes an involuntary step back, hand ghosting to the letter opener she had instinctively tucked into her waistband.

“Save the effort, Archivist. I’m only here to help, after all. My sources say Tim has left?”

“Sources?” Sasha spits the word, fingers resting against the mottled blue handle of the blade. “Please. There’s no need to hide what you are anymore, Elias.”

“Hmm, very well.” His fingers drum patiently on his jaw, one elbow elegantly balanced on the opposite wrist. He looks too calm, too relaxed for the anxiety and anger thrumming its way through Sasha’s chest. “So, you don’t want to know where he’s gone?” Fuck. Elias’s eyebrow arches expectantly, eyes staring past her as he focused on what she could now recognize as what she called the Knowledge.

“Elias Bouchard, t̶̡̟̲͓̩̜̣͕͇̟̱͉̹̽̋̑̑̅̊͒́̔̂͠ͅe̶̝͍̜̲̘̙̤̰̬̞͒͗l̴̛͕̜̟̟̰͑̿̎̎́͛͌̽̆͆̓̋̾l̴̟̤͚͉͔̼̄̈́̆̌̏̇͝ ̷͖̙̠͕̜̮̬̟̝̰̫͍̆ṁ̶̨̗̮͍̖͍͖̱̟̍̽͜͝e̴̗̩͒̈́͛̊̽́̿ ̷̧̨̡̦̻̙͎̬̪̞͕͙͖̓͂͂͂͂̊̔̊̕̚͜w̴͈̖̦̒̾̀̽͑̓̑̎̂̇͗̂͒ḩ̸̩̺͎̤̳̰̘̱̣̍ę̵̫͚̖́̇͜r̷̢̘͍̣͚̠͚̫̦̭͌ͅͅͅẻ̵͓͖̆̀̒ ̵͇͕̱̬̻̖͔̲͇͇͊̓͊́̽̍̋̓̈́̎̿̆̕͘͝h̷̨̡̧̨̻̝̲̱̬̻͙̻͋́͒̈͆͛͛̒͂̉̈́̎͜e̴̡̪͓̘̳͇͙̪̠̳͈͔̳͕͗̓̉̎ ̵̢̡̟͍̬͖͔͎̹͇̞͗̓́́i̶̲̬̰͙̖̘̮̠̘̜̙̗̍̈́̀̌̔͌̊͋́̍͌̑̚͝s̶̞̱̥͚̽̔̏͠͝.”

Her voice echoes with persuasion, the smooth words rolling off her tongue before she could consider it. Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “He’s in the Desolation.” Elias sighs, seeming almost tired with her. “Honestly, Sasha, I would have told you without you needing to ask like that.”

She tunes him out, her own Knowing searching for Tim and landing her only with a burning inside her skull. She hisses her pain through her teeth and focuses back on Elias, who seems almost amused.

God, what a bastard. “Ȟ̶̡̱͈̖̱̱̱̤̮̖̳̬̆̿͐͛̾́͗͠͝͝ͅͅo̷̡͎̙̓͗̋̂͊̏̏̅̚͘͝ẅ̶̢̨̧̝̖͚̦̱̟̹̼͕͌͌͌̋̒̆͑̈́̓͛͠ ̶̱̩̜̖̫̼̰̐d̴̢͈͍̗̱̀̉̽͋o̷̢̡̫͈̼̺̹̩̥͕͕͘̕ ̵̢̭̦͍̬͖̪̹͍̬̝͝I̶͕̥̱̤̽̿̃̃̂͐̔͒̒̇̆͗̚̕ ̴̛̞̜̘̥͓̙̗̫̰̙̼̝̀͗͋̊́̕ḡ̴͈͈̗̜̦̇͐̏̿̾̅́̆̎̂̊̕͠e̷̡̡̲̘̞̟̤̗͓̺̱̣̘͐̆̈́̔̎̃͋́ṯ̶̨̺̜̪̺̼̼̟̽̽̍̾̊́͊́̒̕͘ ̵̢͔̟͈̘͚̫̩̭͑̃͘ͅt̸̪̊͛̽̀͒h̴̘̫̖̤̜͕̻̺̯̼̦̟͔̋̍̋̈̌̃͐̈́̍̋e̶̢̛͚͉͕͓̪̖̘͖͇͇̫̲͉̐̀̈́̋̄̃̆̽̃̍͊̓ͅr̵̨͍͖̜͕͈̱̤̤̭͈̳̯̜͈̆͒̾̎̓̓̀̐̈̀̂̉̕͠e̴̦̱̺͓̝͕̥͔̮̓͐͛̚?̸̛̝̞̦͈̦̿͐͌̂̌̆͂̆̔̋͗͒̊”

“Honestly, Sasha, you’re wearing yourself out. Timothy and Jude just left. They were in the library; I’m sure you can follow them. Let your mind follow theirs. Find the right string, if the Mother will pardon my analogy, and pull it. I’m sure they left the door open for you.” He winks, as if enjoying a private joke, and turns on a polished leather shoe, striding towards the Archives with purpose.

Sasha redirects her course and hurries to the library. Is this a trap? Almost definitely. But honestly, she doesn’t care. Rosie, head of the institute while Elias had been “previously occupied," had been the last to leave the Institute, Sasha Knew as she ran, clocking out at 18:02. The librarians and assistants were gone. It was just her. Well, she and Elias, certainly. She was already a pawn in this fourteen-way game of chess; she may as well take down some bishops if this was going to be her end. She has never met Jude Perry, but Tim was right about one thing: she certainly already hated her.

-

In the library, Sasha halts in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her. The heat is excruciating on her cheeks as she sees a blazed trail of singed books, paper, and manuscripts. The burning in her face and soul is caused not by any fire, but by the sheer anger that someone dared mar her memories of this library, where she had met so many of the people she loves. Loved. No, loves, she decided with certainty. Jon is gone, the true memory of him lost to everything but the errant polaroid, Martin is all but gone, a shell of the warm man they had known, and Tim is just out of reach. But despite all this, maybe in sheer spite of everything they’ve been through, Sasha still present-tense loves each of them.

It is that love, she thinks, that guides her now, more so than the omniscient Eye that paves her way to the Desolation, the scar on reality widening and opening for her before it swallows her whole, the library crumbling into ash around her.

One way or another, she was going to end this.

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future

What do you do

When everything you’ve done

Comes back to haunt you?

Group: ATEEZ

Superpowers AU!

Mutants, assassins, confronting the past! a little dive into the concept of  romantic soulmates! 

with OCs

Genres: Fantasy, Supernatural, Adventure, Angst, Implied smut, Fluff, Gen

Flashback-heavy

Featuring mentions of: Park Jihoon (solo), Chanyeol, Dean, Zelo

Warnings: Blood, gore, death, violence, character deaths

She has lived with guilt. Slowly remembering details of her checkered past when  interned at a sanitarium years ago. The sudden reemerging of a person she remembered dying and the resurgence of a powerful crime syndicate will have her trying to walk the line between the person she has become and the person she was once destined to be.

A/N: I wasn’t sure if I wanted to post this at all, but I guess it’s worth a try to increase my works on this platform again. The masterlist for this will be up shortly once I figure out/try and make a good graphic. Keyword: TRY (as I suck at photo editing)

Chapter 1. 

“As of today, the seven of you will become a unit, a covert unit. To put it simply, if I want someone killed, you will do it for me, if I want people killed, you will do it for me, if I want information, you will retrieve it for me, all in all, if I want something, you will get it for me, I am good they are bad,” A woman, whose face was obscured in the dark, told the seven people - six men and one woman, all of whom had vacant expressions and were staring into space. 

They were lined up in a padded room, a secret room in the sanitarium that doubled as a training room from the shelves upon shelves of sharp weapons on display at the very end of the room. She knew they could hear her, they just couldn’t speak. 

“Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho, Song Mingi, Jung Wooyoung, Choi Jongho, and,” A man said this time, his face also obscured in the dark, reciting each of their names before rounding on the sole woman in the lineup of people wearing sanitarium uniforms. “Lee Mirae,” the man was smirking in the dark. “The future of our program, you will lead this unit, your progress from all the training these past few years has been exceptional, near-perfect, I would like to think.” 

Mirae said nothing. “Quite an impressive one you are, Lee Mirae,” The woman spoke again. “It’s almost as if you were born for this kind of job. Changseok, what do you think? She is the most successful one we’ve trained under the program, right?” 

“Quite right, honey. Lee Mirae, you are the most successful experiment in this program of ours. It’s not hard to see why, you were born with the mutant gene,” The man seemed to stare at her. “Your own parents didn’t realize your true potential when they interned you in here, but consider this as a way to lead you to what you are destined to be. The most-feared mercenary the world has ever known. The mere sight of you will bring even the most powerful people to their knees, begging you to spare their lives.” 

Mirae still said nothing. Like the others, she could hear them, she just couldn’t speak. “You will be pulled out whenever we have a mission for you. This will entail traveling to faraway parts of the world. While you’re all built to be killing machines, I don’t think any of you are invulnerable to harm. But don’t worry, after every mission, upon returning, you will all be subject to electroshock therapy. Just enough to make you forget what you’ve done, where you went, and whom you might have killed,” The woman spoke again. 

They could hear her. They just couldn’t speak. “You are all ready for your first mission. It’s in Busan. You will be briefed on the way. It’s time to open Pandora’s Box.” 

The seven of them twitched in their places. As the man known as Changseok began to repeat the last two words, the seven of them continued twitching, tilting their heads as if hearing something that hurt their ears. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, forks scratching ceramic plates. When Changseok stopped, all of them stood still, a blank look in their eyes as if in a trance. “Remember, regardless of the weapon you pick, you are the true weapon.”

~ 

Seoul. 9:00 p.m. Present day.

Five years have passed since the Seoul attack that changed everything. Almost everyone that was part of trying to stop it was gone, either dead or missing. Lee Mirae stared at the rain tapping on the windows of her apartment. It was now four years since the Utopian cult, the encounter that gave her a rude awakening, the encounter that made everything seem like a lie, the encounter where she lost her adoptive brother Jihoon. There was a memorial in place for the lives lost during those times, placed on the site where the Center for Paranormal Research once stood. 

This was no longer the place she once knew. Even the brightest colors from the lights by the river seemed to have a grey, almost black tinge to it all. For some reason, the place she called home was no longer as bright as she knew it to be. It was a lot darker, and it wasn’t only because of the constant dark clouds hanging over the city, but it was also because the crime rate was still at its highest. Gangs were rampant all over. Law enforcement couldn’t be trusted. It wasn’t hard for Mirae to realize how much things weren’t so bright and cheerful since the Seoul attack. It was never bright and cheerful. She just wasn’t paying much attention. 

Mirae was a mutant, and had the ability to manipulate energy. She turned the smallest things into extremely explosive projectiles, and she often did it with a deck of cards. Being an omega-level mutant, the fullest extent of her powers allowed her to turn into an energy being, aside from a healing factor that made her almost immortal, and it also slowed down her aging process. She was a fighter, gifted with many forms of combat, and she was often told by her adoptive brother that no one could beat her in any way, but she knew that wasn’t true nor was it going to be true. She often used a steel bo staff made for her by Junhong, one of the surviving tech guys from the attack, who also took it upon himself to make changes to some of her things, including her car and the windows of both her apartment and the record store she owned and operated. 

Her powers didn’t stop there. From the two big events that shook the city came her ability to trap souls into objects, usually her cards. This also resulted in a white streak in her hair that she never bothered covering up, not even when she tried to dye her hair. 

She heard the door open and turned around. It was her half-brother, Choi San, coming back from getting take-out at the nearest restaurant. San was a mutant like her, and was also gifted with the ability to manipulate energy, only he channeled it through his harpoon. His healing abilities were just as strong as hers, granting him near-immortality. San was also skilled in combat, and when they reunited, he was working as a mercenary for hire. He still was one. Like her, he also had a streak in his hair, a purple one that seemed to cover up the white that formed upon using his powers to their fullest extent. 

Mercenary. The mere word made her shake her head. That wasn’t her. If it was, then it was the old her. She was no longer under the control of her Utopian cult. The trigger was gone, taken out of her head. She knew this well. She was the one who drove the sword into the leaders of that cult, her own adoptive parents. 

“I’ve come back bearing meat, I figured we could grill some over the stove for dinner tonight” He said, holding up a black plastic bag. San tilted his head. “You had another dream, didn’t you?” He figured. 

“Yeah,” Mirae let out an exasperated sigh. She had trouble sleeping, knowing that her dreams would present her flashes of memories from her time at the sanitarium. Only this time, the memories she would have would lead her to wake up in tears as those memories were of Jihoon. Jihoon, whom she promised to protect with her whole life when he got out, whom she practically raised, and whom she ultimately failed to save. 

“What was it this time?” San asked, already bringing out a griddle pan to pan-fry the meat instead. 

“The first mission I had, or at least that’s what it sounded like, the usual stuff,” She replied, setting the table while he cooked the meat. 

San’s expression turned into that of concern as he glanced at her. It made him wonder how he could somehow help her get out of this, out of her inability to sleep. “I could get you sleeping pills if you need it,” He said carefully. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. Whether or not I take them, I still have those dreams,” Mirae shook her head, helping him out with cooking this time. 

“Hasn’t Junhong… tried to come up with something to help you? What about your friends? Chanyeol? Hyuk? Have they thought of helping you?” San’s tone was becoming increasingly concerned. 

“How can they? Hyuk’s not that powerful a telepath, what can Chanyeol do, burn my head? Ino… well, he’s too caught up in trying to manage his own powers to even try and help out other people,” Mirae answered. “Even if they tried, when the trigger was taken out of me, the psychic block in my head grew stronger, they can’t read my mind even if I wanted them to.” 

San frowned. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her either. “I hear you crying in the middle of the night sometimes,” he said, partly wondering if it was the right time to point it out. “At first I thought you were crying because you missed Jihoon, but over time I realized it was something else,” He quickly turned the meat over in time before one side burned. 

“I will always miss him. But every time I go to sleep I’m always haunted by what happened to me before,” Mirae muttered. “I’ll be fine, San. Really, I’ll be fine, I can cope with it,” She assured him. “Maybe some sparring will help clear my head. Want to spar with me later?” 

“Will you let me win this time?” San teased, in an effort to lighten the mood. 

“I can’t promise you that,” Mirae teased back. 

~ 

“I thought you said you were training yourself?” Mirae asked later on in the training room down the hall from their apartment later that night. She managed to put San down on the mat in less than a minute during their first try. 

“I was!” San argued, sounding frustrated as he got back up on his feet. “You’re just that good!” He pointed out, charging towards his sister, who easily blocked every strike he made while he did the same yet with a few maneuvers later, he was back down on the mat. 

“That’s not true, you’re probably just not training enough,” Mirae pointed out, helping him back up. 

“Hey! I really was!” San got back up. “Maybe we should just go through the obstacle course kind of training instead,” He said. Although he was frustrated at how he never seemed to be able to one-up Mirae, he couldn’t stay frustrated for long. He wanted to help her clear her head and he was determined to make it happen, even if it was at his own expense.  

“Deal. I would never fight you anyway, unless you need to because I might be hypnotized or something,” She assured him, flipping one of the switches to start the courses in front of them. Several dummies were already positioned at the end along with spiked gauntlets that were rotating. 

When Mirae flung a few cards towards the dummies in front of her, it signaled San to attack as well, his harpoon gun piercing through the dummy head and as the arrow pulled back, the head was nearly ripped off. The two of them rolled over to either side of the room, picking up the nearest weapon they could get their hands on: Mirae, her staff and San with a pair of nunchaku. 

They attacked the spiked gauntlets at the same time with their weapons, kicks, and punches. Their attacks seemed incredibly effortless and precise. San smiled to himself at how they attacked at the same time, and he could tell Mirae was smiling as well, some blood staining the backs of their shoes from kicking a little too hard and breaking the spikes off. When they reached the end of the course, they looked at the nearly broken down obstacles, satisfied with what they did. Mirae handed him a pair of shurikens and the two of them kicked each one towards the dummies that fell out from the ceiling. While San’s hit the dummies on the legs, Mirae’s hit them squarely on the chest and on the head. 

They hit high fives. “Close enough, but we did great!” San enveloped her in a hug with one arm. “One day, I’ll hit those dummies just as good as you did” He said, eyeing the shurikens on the legs of the dummies hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve always wondered why you don’t have guns in here.” 

“These weapons existed long before there were guns,” Mirae pointed out, retracting her staff. “And they’re a lot cooler to use,” She winked, making San chuckle. 

“Okay then, let’s call it a night, I’ve got a game to play and we’ll clean all of this up tomorrow, don’t clean it up, let’s do it tomorrow” San pushed her towards the doors before she could object. 

Mirae allowed herself to be led, still feeling the rush from their training session. As she set foot outside the room and into the hallway, she froze as she saw a tall man dressed in black from head to toe, wearing a mask and a fedora. She could tell he was looking right at her before he fled. The way he was dressed seemed familiar to her yet she didn’t know how, it felt a little too familiar as if she wore something like that before. He himself also gave off that familiar feeling. 

The man fled before she tried to follow, but as Mirae ran and tried to catch up by the elevator, he was already gone. San caught up to her. “What is it?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “Nothing, a stray cat got up here” She muttered. “Let’s go back inside.” 

San frowned. “We could’ve taken that cat inside, gave it food, it was probably hungry” He said as they turned back to their apartment. “We could’ve even taken it in for good, like a pet” He eyed her. 

Mirae shook her head again as they entered their home, taking their stained shoes off, revealing the bloodied socks they were both now sporting. She was still thinking about the man in black. Why was he so familiar to her? “You can shower first, I’ll go in after you” She said, heading to her bedroom. 

“Really? Okay then, I’ll let you know when I’m done” San raised a brow, sensing that something was on her mind. Not wanting to ask further, he went straight to the bathroom. 

~ 

“Remember our promise, okay?” Yunho choked, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth as Mirae tried to hold him. They were in the middle of a desert-like place, somewhere far away. “Remember it-I’ll look for you-I’ll find my way to you when either of us get out, okay?” He sputtered, looking up at her, eyes becoming glazed over. 

The strong wind hit their faces but Mirae didn’t care. Hot tears were streaming down her eyes as she held him, trying her hardest to stop the bleeding coming from his side but failing. “Mirae! Get back here! Leave him!” Hongjoong was yelling as they were on their way back into the military plane, trying to get away from the larger group of what looked like soldiers that worked for their target. 

“He’s a lost cause, you can’t save him, Mirae,” Seonghwa tried to pull her up but Mirae refused to budge. “You’re our leader, we’re not leaving without you” He added. 

“Go with them-go with them” Yunho sputtered. “I love you, Lee Mirae. I love you. Remember that” and his eyes closed, his form collapsing under her. 

More tears fell down the sides of her face as she held his lifeless body close. The pain she felt was slowly being replaced with rage, and as she saw the oncoming soldiers running towards them, about to fire their weapons, her eyes glowed red making all of them combust, exploding in front of her including the weapons they were carrying. 

Seonghwa and the others stared at the scene in shock. Tears were still flowing down the sides of her face as the glow in her eyes faded. He was gone. Yunho was gone.

~ 

Mirae’s eyes shot open in the middle of the night and she sat up. An overwhelming sadness came over her and before she realized it, tears were already flowing down her face. Her hands were shaking as she sobbed into them, She had forgotten his name, but he must have been someone important to her. Whoever he was, his death felt like a heavy blow, like her heart was being broken over and over. 

She had been dreaming about him a lot more lately. Mirae got out of bed and stepped out of her room, sneaking past the sofa bed that San was sleeping on and going to the kitchen. She still felt that overwhelming sadness as she took a drink of water, trying to wipe her eyes from the tears that managed to escape even as she felt like she had already cried her eyes out for the past few minutes. 

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how her time at the sanitarium was more than just a blur, more than Jihoon, more than the electroshock therapy sessions she often had to go under. Mirae figured she fell in love while interned, with the guy she was dreaming about, the guy whose face she was being made to remember. 

“Mirae,” San was already sitting up, looking at her with one eye open. “Are you okay?” He asked. 

“Go back to sleep, I’m fine,” Mirae assured him quietly. 

“It’s getting harder for me to see you like this, I can’t just go back to sleep,” San got up and made his way towards his sister. “What was it this time?” 

Mirae didn’t know how she could tell him. “Someone who isn’t Jihoon, dying in front of me, I killed a lot of people in return. I can’t remember his name, but I’m remembering his face more and more.” 

“Must be important to you, whoever they are” San said. 

“He must be. Otherwise I wouldn’t have killed all of those people in front of us.” 

San rubbed her back and wrapped an arm around her. “Like what you told me, sis. You’ll be okay. This is what’s helping you heal.” 

“I hope so, San,” She looked up at him, feeling the overwhelming sadness and heartbreak again. “I hope so.” 

San stayed up with her to keep her company for a little while more until she urged him to go back to sleep. Neither of them were aware that the man, dressed in black from head to toe with a mask and a fedora hat, was looking up at them from outside the building. 

[mermadrid96]

At 23 I had every reason to feel invincible. I walked out of post secondary already two years in my career field and paid off my debt. I had to keep moving. Get the apartment alone and continue on what I wanted to be my long journey of being someone worth remembering.

I don’t have any extreme addiction issues. Other than pot..that doesn’t count right? It probably does.

I just hold a deep sadness and obsession with suicidal ideation. The first time I tried to kill myself I was nine. I remember resisting the urge to jump in front of the subway long before that, probably 3 or 4 standing with my grandma going to church.

Like most, mental illness runs on both sides of my family. It’s true that you feel a sense of ease about letting yourself be ill when it’s already hereditary.

Distraction is the best way to manage most of my issues. Friends, movies, family. Working. I try to exercise and I’m sure doing that would help a lot more, but my main passion is sleep. Sleep is the closest to death us cowards of suicide can get. I dream a lot more now that I’ve been able to shake the constant weed smoking. I barely remember them and their usually shitty modifications of what’s happening in my world. But I’d take it over exhausted rest anyway.

When I got to Kingston in sept 2019 I was already sceptical. But it was easy to distract that away, new school new job new city to explore and a way to reinvent the version of myself I spent 23 years hating. Obviously, for someone so naturally fucking lazy and obsessed with the idea of being a tragedy headline, it didn’t work out. I went out and met people as usually encouraged by my friends back home. I got a job because I could not come off a lazy (I lasted one whole training shift before my sister let take the cop out I was giving myself) and I did my homework.

I’m not sure why I was so insistent on proving I could do this, when I already knew I couldn’t. Somehow, between touring the school and moving in six months later, I told myself every step of the way it was too late to look back. You’d be letting everyone down when you’ve finally earned a decent family title back.

It’s funny that sitting here at 25, almost finished with the youth therapy I transitioned to, I feel the same type of way.

I’ve gotten every therapist I’ve met with to beam with pride during sessions, something that is obviously more than necessary for me, I’ve been given the “stable label” by each psychiatrist, graduated each group therapy, and regained the family perspective of “she’s doing great now, actually.”

Falling back into needing more help than I did before isn’t an option. Letting small things like a credit card compromise, the death of a family pet or being in the middle of a domestic wasn’t an excuse to let your mental state become as fragile as it was.

The skills are on the papers, the binder is Color coded and you have the self help numbers now. You’re cured and everyone can get onboard with that. No one wants to get onboard with the heartache of watching a family member be shitty again. Or A friend that barely answers and is more selfish than the completely selfless person they chose to stay friends with through a hard time.

I do find a lot of what I’ve done will save me. But mostly, I know killing myself would save me. So where has any of this gotten me? Just in more debt than I ever was at the beginning, and three years behind my timeline, might as well just give in and let myself come to peace.

I’ve read more stories about established people who have gone through the same thoughts-with much worse circumstances- and their endings, while positive, aren’t what I see as happy. I mean- they didn’t kill themselves? And their not on an island alone with zero responsibilities or people to disappoint- so who cares? None these articles have left me satisfied. Just with a sense of reality; life isn’t great. And if you can’t handle your own shit well; you’ll probably have to go through it sober too.

A lot of my false worlds pictures me back in high school- being able to reinvent everything- getting more into the arts and then a college program that would actually make me money and was nothing close to the Hunan services sector; where all bleeding hearts come to die poor and with back problems. Enjoying things truly instead of not realizing 16 would of been the best opportunity I had to off myself. Immortalized before even living- a lazy cowards dream.

I keep hearing how much of my life o have left to figure things out, bc you know, 20s. But that’ll end in 5 years and then I’ll be asking what I’ve done to get where I want. Well I’ve napped and ignored a budget. Contemplated a lot and taken chances I didn’t want and missed ones that might of worked. Basically, always considering what if to the point where it’s wasted.

I feel full when I’m with my family, when I’m able to laugh with friends and when I’m able to think through these harder days. And, as any caring professional would say- when I’m enjoying my job. There is some truth to this being a profession and a passion. I’m proud of what I’ve done, but I can tell you I’d be just as proud of taking more vacations and a new front car bumper.

I also feel full when I can just cry uninterrupted, when I’ve accepted my plans for suicide and can let go of all conscious responsibility, when I’ve hurt myself, and whenever I don’t need to set an alarm to wake up.

[cookinguptales]

A long post about having undiagnosed ADHD as a little girl. And how we all need to talk a hell of a lot more about Reaction Sensitive Dysphoria.

(cw: mental illness, childhood punishment, discussions of childhood self-harm & suicidal ideation)

When I was a little girl, I was a crybaby. I didn’t know why I’d cry all the time. I just did. Everything always felt catastrophic, even if it was just a disagreement over what to play with my friends. People called me manipulative. I got made fun of at school. I was sent to the school therapist. Hell, the only time I ever had to go to the principal’s office, I was in kindergarten and would not. stop. crying. I was literally sent to the principal’s office for crying too much.

(Note. How did I respond to that? I cried. A lot.)

Here are a few examples of things that made me feel like the world was ending:

Once I came home sobbing and my parents asked me what was wrong. Why was I crying? Because the other kids had called me a crybaby.

Once at daycare (around age six), some older boys were making effigies of their teachers out of play-doh and then smushing them and convinced me to join in. The minute I did, they told me that they were telling my teacher, which made me about lose my damn mind.

I was a voracious reader and often ran out of reading material. Once I sneaked some of my mother’s romance novels that she’d left in the bathroom for light reading. They were Very Adult. I was so scared she’d find out and scold me for reading sexually explicit books.

Now, my parents think these are kind of funny stories. They say that I was very cute. But in truth, I was a nervous wreck. My life was pretty good in most ways, but I’d have these moments that just felt like cascading catastrophes. Anytime someone criticized me or my work or my ideas, the sky would just come crashing down. I’d cry so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’d cry so hard I threw up. I grew out of the crying by about age nine, but that sickening feeling of failure never really left.

About 8 years ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD. Severe ADHD. I believe the doctor’s exact words were “I don’t even know how you graduated from high school”. They tried me on ADHD medicine but it made my heart go dokidoki so I just had to live with being unmedicated. I wasn’t told a lot about ADHD at that point, or how ADHD symptoms differ for women, so I just kind of assumed that it was just focus and that’s it. Brain fog wasn’t exactly new to me, what with my other illnesses, so I figured I’d just live with it.

But about a year ago, I learned about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which is a fairly common symptom of ADHD that no one ever told me about in my goddamn life! It essentially means that when you are criticized (or perceive something as criticism) by others or by yourself, your brain goes into absolute hyperdrive. You go from zero to “everyone hates me and I deserve that and probably don’t deserve to live too because I am just the worst” over like. literally nothing. And it’s not just like a mental thing you can train yourself out of. It’s characterized by actual physical pain. Y’all, I have anxiety and depression and this is not the same thing. This is your whole body seizing up and your brain going into a maelstrom that’s fairly similar to a panic attack.

Here’s the less cute side to all of those stories:

I had very few friends, and the friends I did have thought I was annoying and manipulative. The more I cried, the more kids stayed away from me.

After the Play-Doh incident, I cried for days. Days. And I was scared of my teacher for weeks. My parents laughed it off as a cute child thing, but none of it was cute for me. The older boys forgot about it by the next day, but it haunted my interactions with that teacher for weeks. It interfered with my education. I was a nervous wreck at school. I was so scared that she would hate me. That I’d be singled out in class. That I’d fail and my whole education would be upended and I’d fail out of school and my parents would hate me too and my life would be over. That’s... a lot for a six year old.

Those romance novels? That was a closely guarded secret that I kept for years. For literal years, I was afraid she’d somehow find out that I’d read those books. I would think of it when I was nine, ten, eleven years old and my whole body would stiffen up. I’d occasionally throw up. I cried about what might happen if my parents ever found out. Would they hate me forever? Yes, probably. They’d never love me again. I was a bad child. I finally told my mom about it a few months ago. I was 29. A small part of me was still scared I’d get in trouble. (My mom laughed about it; she was just like ‘wow, I should have put those books up higher’.)

When I was six, I went to an aftercare at a neighbor’s house for a while. (This predated the other daycare.) One day, one of the kids at aftercare didn’t get off the bus. The lady asked if anyone knew where he was. Trying to be helpful, I said I thought I’d seen him on the bus. (And like -- I really did think I did. But I was six and six year olds are uhhh not smart.) Surprise! He’d actually left school early for a dr’s appt. But she thought he’d missed his bus stop and spent like an hour on the phone figuring out what happened. And y’all. When she realized he hadn’t been on that bus, she was furious. When my other neighbor picked me up for my mom that evening, the lady told her that I was a bad child who’d purposefully lied to scare her. She said I wasn’t allowed to come back. And ohhh guys. I begged my neighbor not to tell my mom. (She did.) And then I begged my mom not to tell my dad. She was honestly kind of alarmed at how vehement I was about dad not knowing. (I was like a shaking, sobbing mess.) She asked me what I thought would happen. idk. Maybe he’d hit me. (My parents never hit me.) Maybe he’d throw me out of the house. Maybe he’d never talk to me again. He’d definitely stop loving me. I was so bad. So, so bad. I was a bad child. No one would ever love me. I was a worthless, bad child.

In short, I was hysterical.

When my parents finally talked to me about it, it was less of a talk about consequences and more talking me off the fucking ledge. They weren’t that concerned about the actual incident; they figured out pretty quickly that I’d just made a mistake. A temporarily scary one, but a mistake all the same. (I basically never misbehaved, so they were kind of confused by the whole situation, honestly.) But they were very concerned about my reaction to it. I knew they loved me, right? I knew that they wouldn’t hurt me, right? Why did I think that was a possibility?

I didn’t know. I still don’t know. It wasn’t rational. It was just my brain exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.

This is not a memory my mom laughs about. I think it really genuinely disturbed her. She’s still angry at that aftercare neighbor for doing that to me. As an adult, I realize that the person who actually fucked up in that scenario was the boy’s mother, who didn’t call to alert aftercare that he wouldn’t be coming. (Funnily enough, that boy’s mother was my first grade teacher -- the one I was so terrified of. Small town. I guess I was scared of her hating me, too.) But as a child, this wasn’t just bad. It was catastrophic. I genuinely considered hurting myself. I was six years old and I considered hurting myself. Suicidal ideation is often part and parcel with RSD. I’ve had to deal with that since elementary school.

RSD is real and it’s terrifying and it’s not unusual in children with ADHD. It’s still a problem that I struggle with. I’ve had friends not answer texts for a while and my brain just. assumes that I said something wrong. And now they hate me. Because I’m a bad person. And my whole body will shake. I’ll sweat. My stomach will roll. My chest will literally hurt like I’m having a heart attack. I still have to blink back those tears. Sometimes I’ll go for a walk to distract myself and burn off all that energy. Sometimes I’ll write a post like this. Sometimes I’ll just lie in bed. Shaking. Trying very hard not to think about doing Bad Things. It’s hard to say how it’ll go until it goes.

(Note: I’m okay right now! I was just talking about this with dad yesterday so I’ve been thinking about it.)

And this is not my friends’ fault! Or my family’s fault. This is no one’s fault. It’s just... mental illness, I guess. It’s hard to predict. Sometimes I can have a calm and reasonable discussion about my faults (which I fully admit exist) and sometimes someone disagrees with me on whether a tv show is good and my brain shits itself. (I’m dumb and stupid and this person probably hates me now! Because I didn’t love Avatar! Why did I open my big mouth? Now our whole relationship is ruined and I ruined it because I am a dumb relationship-ruiner!) Obviously, it gets worse when my physical and mental state is already fragile. I have a lot of chronic physical and mental illnesses, so like... it happens. But it’s very hard to predict, very hard to control, and all you can do is really talk yourself through it when it happens. Breathe. Focus on what’s real and what’s not. Distract yourself. Be as kind to your brain as you can because it will not be kind back.

Talk to people who love you. Try, whenever possible, to be one of those people.

idk. I wish I had concrete advice to finish this off. But it’s more just like... please learn to see the signs, especially in small children. I had far too many strong emotions for a child to figure out on her own. I really could have used some help. It’s too late for my childhood, but not for the other kids who are struggling with similar issues right now.

And if you read this and see yourself in it, do me a solid and talk to your doctor? Your brain might thank you one day.

[siriusmuch]

Friday I’m In Love | Chapter Six

series masterlist here

word count: 3k!!!

warnings: this chapter could potentially be triggering, it hints towards abuse. there’s nothing described or anything of the sort, but please be safe!

taglist: @interestingthingsthings@siriuslysirius1107@scaredofvscogirls @lizlil @themihala@mainstreambitchlife @phenylethyllamine @jellyfishbeansontoast @accio-rogers @blackpinkdolan @nickangel13 @witchywrter @tomshollandz​ please message me or send an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! if you didn’t receive a notification, it’s because i can’t tag you.

a/n: sorry about being gone for a whole month without posting a new chapter! anyway, you’re in a huge ride in this chapter. hopefully i can get chapters out at least once a week after this! :)

-

Things changed after the conversation. Slowly, your new normal included hanging out with the Marauders, much to the dislike of most Slytherins in your house. Regulus didn’t comment on it, although you knew he was hurt. After all, he had supported you all along, and you were practically running back to his brother.

You wanted to reassure him that its wasn’t like that, because it really wasn’t. No matter how much you loved Sirius, you were doing your damn best to get over him, and for good this time. You had more friends, and better ones. You spent your meals with Regulus, usually splitting seating in classes between him and Severus. After classes, you did your studying with Remus before hanging out with Regulus or the Marauders. 

You had wanted this for so long, and you plunged into it without any self-control.

The rest of November passed quickly, and as December slowly went by, you got increasingly nervous about heading home. Your parents hadn’t sent out any howlers, which you appreciated, but you knew they were watching. And you knew that you’d have hell to face when you got home.

Even with that thought hung above your head, nothing could bring your mood down. For the first time, it felt like you could truly appreciate Hogwarts like every other student.

“Are you guys heading home for Christmas?” You brought up, sitting in the Gryffindor common room. You knew the other Gryffindors were giving you weird looks, but no Gryffindor would mess with you while the Marauders were around.

“I’m heading to James’,” Sirius told you, and you nodded.

“I think my parents want to travel before things get any worse in the wizarding world,” Peter shared, and you smiled.

“I’m heading home, but I’ll probably be around James’ a bunch. What are you planning to do?” Remus asked. You shrugged, feeling the sinking feeling that you felt whenever your mind drifted to your family. You wished you had an escape, but you didn’t. Not like Sirius did, at least. It was going to be your first ever Christmas without your sister, and the thought of that was something you hadn’t truly processed yet.

“I’ll probably see Regulus a lot. My parents told me they’re hosting another party, so I might end up seeing Mulciber, maybe Severus and Malfoy too. A lot of the Black family, really. My parents adore them,” you sighed, “but I’ll have Regulus around, so it won’t be terrible. Merlin knows he’s the only Black I tolerate,” you joked.

“Very funny, (Y/L/N),” Sirius deadpanned.

“You’re going to be alright though, yeah?” Peter asked, and you shrugged.

“I hope so…” you trailed off, not wanting to share just how bad your family was. You were strong, and you could handle another Christmas with them. And then it’ll be back to Hogwarts, where you’d be safe.

-

You arrived at King’s Cross quicker than you would’ve liked, but a train ride spent with Regulus was a time well spent. You could practically feel his mood shifting as he prepared himself to see his family. Both of you started slipping into your personas of being the perfect child, and before you got off the train, you gave him a tight hug.

“I’ll see you soon, I hope. Write to me often, Reg, you know your letters get me through this.” He smiled at you one final time, and you kissed him on the cheek before getting off the train to face your parents. They had written you to tell you that they’d meet you at the station, and you were hoping they wouldn’t. Any moment spent away from them was a blessing.

Once you exited the train, it was easy to find your parents. They were talking with the Blacks, and you could see the Marauders from a distance away. You were able to meet eyes with Sirius, and you gave him the tiniest of waves before turning to face your parents.

“Mother, father,” you greeted simply. They turned to meet your eyes, and your mother opened her arms for a hug. You didn’t have any choice but to pretend — that was all this was. A game of pretend, a game of dolls, a game of house and the perfect pureblooded family. 

“It’s good to see you again, my sweet,” your mother said, but you could hear the coldness of her voice. Walburga and Orion looked at you with fake pitiful smiles, and you knew. You knew that whatever you’d face with this break would be terrible.

Letting you go, you took a few steps back before turning to the Blacks. “Hello.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could spot the Marauders looking over at you, and a lurch in your chest told you that you’d rather be with them. From behind you, Regulus finally joined you — you wondered where he went, although you wouldn’t ask till later.

“Hello, Miss (Y/L/N) and Mister (Y/L/N), and hi, (Y/N).” You smiled at him, relieved to be around someone you could tolerate, but also worried. Although your parents had a strong friendship with the Blacks, you wondered what would be so important that they’d be waiting for the both of you together.

“(Y/N), Walburga, Orion, and Regulus are going to be staying with us. We’ll be hosting the party the day after tomorrow, and there will be important news announced. You are to be on your best behavior, understand?” You nodded. “Good,” your mother brushed her thumb against your cheek, and you willed yourself not to flinch. Taking a look at Regulus, he shrugged, and you inwardly sighed. Whatever your parents had prepared, it wouldn’t be good.

-

“What do you think they’re planning?” You wondered, laying in Regulus’ lap. It was the day of the party, and the house had been chaotic for the past few days, everyone frantic to throw the perfect party to welcome the beloved heirs home. On the bright side, with the Black family here, your parents hadn’t tried talking to you about how you were acting up in school.

“No clue, but I think it involved both of us. Why else would we be staying?” You looked up at him, his eyes peering down at you. “And as comfortable as we both are, we need to get ready soon.”

“Right he is!” Your mother chimed as she opened the door. She looked pleased as she took in the position that you and Regulus were in, but turned to face Regulus. “You should get going, sweetheart, your mother is waiting for you in your room.”

You wished Regulus didn’t have to leave so that you didn’t have to be with your mother alone, but you didn’t protest. Watching as he left the room and closed the door, you turned to face your mother, who was rummaging through your (rather big) closet. “As you know, I’ve been preparing for this party for a while, and we’re so very lucky to have the Blacks on board. I thought things would’ve been complicated after Sirius turned out the way he did…” Your mother pulled out a dress before making a look of disgust, continuing to flick through the clothes.

“But we’re happy that things have worked out. You get along well with Regulus, right?” You nodded, brushing through your hair. Your mother felt the littlest bit motherly, and you indulged yourself in it, at least until it would get worse. “Good, good. I was worried that things wouldn’t work out after your little act at school, even though I know you’re still hanging around Gryffindors. At least two of them are pureblooded, even if they’re blood traitors.” You rolled your eyes. So much for that.

“Besides the point. We’re expecting a lot of you when you return to school. I know what we did over the summer had scared you, but it’s showing you reality. You’re one of us, now, my sweet. Anything you do now reflects on that, and I just don’t want you to get into trouble. Your father wishes the same, even if he never shares that.” Finally, your mother pulled out a green ballgown, one that was strapless and had a slit to show off your leg. There weren’t any sleeves, and you knew you couldn’t get away with wearing something over your arm either.

The Dark Mark sits on your arm, a painful reminder of just how deep you succumbed.

“I know it was early for you to get the mark, but we had to prove your worth. You’re already part of the sacred twenty-nine, and with Sirius turning out to be the way he is, we had to do something. There’s no doubt that Regulus will have to too.” Once you got changed, your mother pulled you to your vanity so she could do your hair. “I would’ve preferred you get the Dark Mark in your last year. But what’s done is done, and we can’t dwell on that.”

Every minute you spent with your mother felt like it’d never end, but by the end of her dolling you up, you looked like how you did for every other party. Except this time, your mother pulled out a thin long box, and you raised your eyebrows.

“This is my necklace. It’s been passed down for generations, but you’re growing up now. I want you to have it. It’ll show that you’re truly a (Y/L/N) now.” You nodded, and your mother clipped it on, making sure to not get your hair in the way. “I love you, my sweet. You’ve never looked as beautiful and mature as you do now.” Your heart clenched a tiny bit, and you willed yourself not to cry. There was something about this moment that felt different than the other ones you shared with your parents, and no matter how much you hated them for what they’d put you through, you felt as if they loved you. 

“Thank you,” you said, “The party is starting soon, right? You should head downstairs, I’ll be down in a bit.”

Your mother gave you a kiss on your forehead, and you watched as she left. She felt so much like a mother, and you wished it was like this all the time. Even if she got on your nerves by sprouting some stuff about the Gryffindors, you knew that you’d pick this over the regular relationship you had with your parents any day. You wished your sister was here to see you now.

The mark on your arm throbbed again, and you sighed. It was time to go to the party.

-

The ballroom was filled with people, most of which you recognized were avid Voldemort supporters or pureblooded. Looking around for Regulus, you noted that you could see Mulciber chatting someone up. Someone was playing piano, and all the tables were filled with food. This had to be the grandest party yet.

Finally spotting Regulus, you hurried over to him. “Reg! You look good,” you smiled. It was true; he looked more dressed up than he normally would be. You noted that his bowtie was the same shade of green you were wearing. Seeing a small blush on his face, you chuckled.

“You look nice, too. Green’s a pretty color on you, but I’m sure you already know that.” You laughed, opening your mouth to speak before effectively getting cut off by your father’s booming voice.

“Thank you all for joining today, as we have very pleasing news. About a decade ago, the Blacks and us had made an arrangement to marry off our first borns.” You turned to face Regulus in shock only to note that his face was the same. “Unfortunately, the Blacks’ first born turned out to be a blood traitor and as you know, this summer, my firstborn had passed away. Therefore, the Blacks and I have been talking, and we had agreed that Regulus and (Y/N) would be a far better match. Their chemistry is undeniable, and their wedding is going to happen as soon as they turn of age. This is our formal invite to everyone in this room. Congratulations, Regulus, (Y/N).” Your father stopped speaking, but at this point, you didn’t know what to say.

An arranged marriage? With Regulus?

It’s true that you and Regulus were close friends, hell, he was probably your closest friend, but you never considered him romantically. But you’d never considered anyone other than Sirius romantically. You didn’t know if you could even indulge in this; sure, Regulus was nice, but he was almost like your little brother. You weakly smiled at all the stares in the room, but didn’t voice any of the thoughts you shared out loud. Instead, you whispered to him, “I’m happy it’s with you out of anyone it could’ve been with. Meet me at my room after the party?” 

Regulus agreed, and your only question was how you could possibly deal with this after the party. Would you have to wear engagement rings? There’s no doubt that you couldn’t date anyone anymore, not in public anyway. It’d get back to your parents, and you couldn’t risk that. 

And for the first time since meeting the Marauders, you truly realized that you were stuck with nowhere to go.

-

“I’m sorry this ended up happening,” Regulus whispered. The two of you were sitting in your bedroom, still wearing your party outfits, and you were still reeling from the revelation.

“A decade, Reg. And I bet even if things had worked out differently, we would’ve ended up married anyway. Sirius and my sister, and then you and I. Talk about a union,” you scoffed, leaning into your bed. “What are we going to do at school? Are we going to be… a couple? Actually date?”

“I don’t think we really have a choice other than do that, do we?”

“Ugh…” You stuffed your face into a pillow for a good minute before peeking your head out at Regulus, “This would be so much easier if I was bloody in love with you,” you sighed.

“We could. Actually d-date, I mean. It’d probably be more enjoyable for the both of us than to just pretend.” Regulus nervously spluttered out. You stared at him, thoughts rapidly shifting from one to the next. Could Regulus actually have feelings for you? Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to comprehend this thought. You never considered the possibility that Regulus might have a crush on you, but you never considered a possibility of dating anyone other than Sirius either. And now that Sirius had made it clear he wanted to be friends and nothing more…

Could you imagine spending the rest of your life with Regulus? Waking up to his face, kissing him good morning, joking about his terrible morning breath before he has to leave? Could you imagine pretending that a war wasn’t going on out there, surrounding you, and having your newfound friends fighting for your life? Could you imagine being married to Regulus?

But what you actually said was, “You… have a crush on me, right? I never suspected anything until, well, now. But you know I’m still trying to get over Sirius, and if we did date, I do wish that it would’ve happened naturally instead of like. This.” You gestured with your arms, trying to read what he was feeling. He’d always been hard to read, especially when he grew up in a family just like yours, but he was much easier to read than Sirius.

“I am. I never told you because there wouldn’t have been a chance that you’d like me back, but you’re trying to get over Sirius and even though I’m unhappy that my parents planned this out for us, I’d be a fool to put my all into this relationship without making it clear how I felt. We’re in the same boat, and it’s better now than never.”

“Quite Gryffindor of you to say that,” you joked with a wry smile. “I… can’t say I like you back. If I were to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever considered you to be more than my brother, and I can’t promise you anything else. But we can try and date, and even if it doesn’t work out, we’re still going to be stuck with each other no matter what. There’s nothing stopping that. I can try learn to love you as more, but I can’t promise anything.”

“I know,” Regulus whispered, and he took hold of your hand. “And I’m willing to enter this relationship with just that.” 

You smiled warily, but squeezed his hand. You were afraid to hurt him beyond repair. When Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, their relationship had become strained and you were the only person he held close, other than Kreacher. You found their relationship amusing, but never commented upon it. 

Maybe you couldn’t have Sirius, and maybe you were stuck in a marriage you didn’t want with in-laws you despised and you lived under the roof with people you frankly wished you didn’t care about, but at least you could try and make your life as good as it could be.

Soon, you’d be back to school. Soon, you’d have to face Sirius and Remus and tell them of your new marriage. Soon, people will know you as Regulus Black’s soon-to-be wife, and soon, you’d end up in a similar position as your sister. Not that you knew that part, though. 

[three-drink-amy]

All the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

masterlist - AO3

With the holidays, it’s a miracle I know it’s Monday and that I should be posting. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading! 

Chapter Thirteen: These Things Are Sent to Try Us

I made the mistake of waiting until after the holidays to reach out to Lamb. I didn’t even have the chance to mention getting together before he dropped his own news on me. 

“Claire, I have the greatest news! I’ve been asked to teach a class at a prestigious arts academy! Isn’t that wonderful?” 

I congratulated him, knowing how desperately he’d been trying to find purpose in his life again. Perhaps teaching could be that for him. “That’s fantastic! Where is it? The one here in New York?” 

“Actually, no. It’s in London. The one I attended, as a matter of fact.” 

I paused for a long moment, trying to process it. Lamb had lived in New York for as long as I had been alive. Longer, even. “Wow. Alright. When do you go? How long will you be gone?” 

“I know it’s last minute, but I’ll be leaving in two days and will be there for eight weeks,” he told me. I bit my lip, trying to decide if I could wait to introduce him to Jamie until after he got back. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew he wouldn’t be open to talking about anything but this new opportunity. 

“Well that sounds wonderful,” I said, feeling a bit defeated. There was another part of me though — a dark, sick part of me — that was a bit relieved that I could put off Lamb’s inevitable judgment for a while longer. I really did want Jamie and Lamb to meet. Truly. But I knew, no matter how hard I tried, it likely wouldn’t go well. 

Jamie, thankfully, understood and we went back to our pleasant routine we’d been in before the holidays. I worked three days a week. Jamie acted every night. And together, we fell more in love. 

* * *

Jamie was drinking a cup of coffee on the couch as Claire looked through the fridge, making a list on her phone. They were running very low on groceries and didn’t need to be ordering take-out as often as they did. It was convenient, especially for keeping their relationship a secret. 

She grabbed her purse and walked over toward the couch where he sat. “Think about what you want for lunch,” she suggested before bending down for a kiss. 

“Would it not be better to eat from the groceries that ye’re already getting?” 

Claire rolled her eyes at him in the way he found both endearing and exasperating. “We’re celebrating. Don’t you remember?” 

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Aye, I recall.” 

“Six months since your first show!” she cheered for him. 

Jamie grabbed her hand, pulling her down again. “I believe that also makes six months since something else happened…” Meeting her for a kiss, he pretended to play dumb. “But what was it?” 

Claire played along. “Yeah, something else. Hmmm. Wonder what it could be.” 

He laughed before kissing her hard. “I’ll think on it.” 

She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I will too.” As she opened the door, she turned back to him. “Text me if I forgot anything.” 

Jamie nodded in reply, waving her off. He watched as she flashed him one last smile before walking out the door. 

It was all so terribly domestic, and sometimes, Jamie couldn’t really believe it was his life. He was essentially living with the woman of his dreams. How was he that lucky? 

He loved Claire with all of him, every fiber of his being. There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted to be with her forever. He’d pretty much been there from the moment they both confessed their feelings. Since then, his feelings had only grown deeper. 

The days where she didn’t work were his favorite. He’d never tell her that. After all, he still felt a bit guilty that she’d altered her work life to accommodate him. But those days were bliss. They’d wake up whenever they woke up instead of having a blaring alarm. Their mornings would be spent however they decided to spend it, whether it was a run (either separately or one of them in a hat that seemed to hide their face), or laying around, or not getting out of bed until they were both fully sated with the other. Those days were his favorite by far. When Claire was just Claire and he was just Jamie. 

He’d mostly moved into Claire’s home in the last couple of months. It started with some clothes and some shoes. That continued to some of his movies that he thought it was a crime she’d never seen. He brought over sheets and towels because he felt like he needed to share and not just go through hers. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d even been back to his own apartment and he didn’t care in the slightest. Jamie was happy and comfortable at Claire’s. And if she was content with it, that’s all that mattered. 

Jamie finished his coffee not long after Claire left for the store and decided to use the time while she was gone to clean up the kitchen. After scrubbing down the counters and sink —as Claire liked to do so regularly that it rubbed off on him — he sat back down on the couch and flipped on the tv. He was still scrolling for something to watch on Netflix when there was a knock at the door. 

Jumping up, Jamie opened the door, imagining Claire didn’t have a hand to get her keys out. But as the door swung open, he was stunned at the person on the other side. The legendary Lambert Beauchamp stood before him, looking thoroughly confused. 

Glancing down at his attire, Jamie regretted meeting the man in a t-shirt and sweats. He cleared his throat nervously. Lamb beat him to the punch to speak first. 

“I was looking for Claire.” 

“Ah, of course. She’s, uh, not here,” Jamie said, feeling flustered. He stuck out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet ye though, I’m —”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Lamb interrupted him. “But perhaps you can illuminate me on why you’re here, so clearly in a comfortable state, at my niece’s — and more than that, your director’s — home.” 

It felt like a rock was stuck in Jamie’s throat. He knew Claire was nervous for the two of them to meet. This certainly wasn’t going to help. Jamie had no words to explain. It was clear what Lamb assumed. And it was more or less correct. Jamie stood there silently, trying desperately to find words. Lamb strode past him into the apartment, planting himself on the couch with a suspicious look. Jamie slowly closed the door behind him, wishing more than anything that it had been his turn to go get groceries. 

* * *

I reached the door —finally— and struggled to get my key in the door. Huffing out a breath, I threw open the door, not even looking around the apartment. I spotted Jamie’s red head of hair out of the corner of my eye. “I couldn’t find that coffee you asked for, so I grabbed that other brand we liked.” Slamming the reusable grocery bags down on the counter, I heard Jamie clear his throat. 

“Claire,” he said almost nervously. 

I looked up and felt my stomach drop. Jamie wasn’t alone in the apartment. “Lamb,” I said in a small voice. My eyes went wide as I glanced back at Jamie. How long ago had Lamb arrived? How long had the two of them been alone together? How had Lamb reacted to Jamie being alone in my home? Likely, not well. “When did you get back from England?” 

Lamb stayed where he was by the couch but his eyes were trained on me. “Last night. I thought I’d come by today and surprise you.” I glanced over at Jamie with an apologetic look. “But instead, it was I who was surprised.” 

I rubbed a hand across my face. “I can see that.” 

“You never mentioned you were seeing anyone,” Lamb mentioned. “If that is what this ” — he gestured between me and Jamie — “ in fact is.” 

My eyes squeezed shut, hating that this was how the two most important men in my life were meeting. “Yes, Jamie and I are dating,” I confirmed for him. “I waited to tell you until we were together for a bit. And then when I was going to tell you, you informed me with only two days notice that you were leaving the country for at least two months. So as you can imagine, I decided to wait.” 

Lamb shook his head. “You’re better than this, Claire.”

I gaped at him. “Excuse me?” 

“An actor? Claire, you know he’s only with you to advance his career. And the evidence of that is pretty damning considering he’s the lead of your last show and was formerly a no name.” 

Jamie’s eyes were closed as he stood with his back to the door. I was resisting the urge to throw the nearest object at Lamb. He had no right to be saying such things. 

“You don’t know a damn thing about Jamie or my relationship with him!” I yelled. “For your information — not that you actually asked — we weren’t together until after the show opened. He gained his role on his own. Though, thank you so much for accusing both of us of impropriety. Forget the fact that you don’t even know him, but is that really what you think I’d do?” 

Lamb still looked unimpressed. “I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I’ve seen a lot of good directors start relationships like this for the same reasons but it turned out it wasn’t quite what they thought it was. I’ve seen plenty of people get burned. I know you think you know what this is, but you’re being naive, Claire. Just open your eyes and see that he’s using you.” 

I’d hit my limit. I threw my arm out, pointing to my office. “Office. Now.” I abandoned the groceries and stalked to my office, feeling like steam must surely be coming from my ears. Lamb stepped inside and I slammed the door shut behind me. 

“I need you to listen and actually hear what I’m saying. I love this man. I am in love with him. I wanted you to meet under better circumstances, but this is where we are. I get that you're trying to protect me, and I appreciate that, but I’m not going to fucking take the way you’re treating both of us. We’re adults, for Christ’s sake. He’s not using me. We knew what we were to each other at the beginning of our relationship.” 

Lamb opened his mouth to talk but I talked over him. 

“And frankly, I wouldn’t care if he used my career and reputation to further his own career because he deserves a good career. But I know for a fact that he’s not doing that. And you know why? Because I’ve actually spent time with him and you just made assumptions. He’s a good man, better than anyone I’ve met on Broadway. And I love him. I want him in my life.” I paused, letting all that information sink in with Lamb. 

“So, here are your options: you can either walk back out there and get to know the man who is very important to me, or you can find your way out. I need him in my life. I don’t need you telling me I’m a naive child. These are your options. I’ll give you some time to think them through.” 

Without letting him speak, I strode from my office and back to the kitchen. Jamie was putting away the groceries I’d just brought home. As he closed the fridge, he turned to me, shooting me a sad look. I walked straight into his arms and held him tightly. His head leaned against mine as his hands rubbed at my back. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. 

“Why should you be sorry? I’m sorry he was so awful.” 

“I should have looked first,” Jamie argued. “I could have spared us all this if I’d looked before just opening the door. I could have pretended no one was here.” 

I chuckled against his chest. “No, he’d probably have let himself in. That would have been even worse.” 

“I ken this wasna how ye wanted us to meet. And I’m sorry for that.” 

I pulled back and looked up at him, running a hand along his cheek. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever he thinks doesn’t matter. You know that, right?” His brow furrowed. “Of course I wanted you both to get along, but if he says he doesn’t approve, it doesn’t change anything for me. You’re too important to me.” 

A small smile crossed his face before he leaned down to place a kiss at my hairline. My eyes fluttered closed and I let him hold me again. 

I heard the door to my office open again, the sound of footsteps carrying back to the kitchen. Jamie and I both looked over just in time to watch Lamb walk right out the door of my apartment. 

My mouth fell open as tears sprang to my eyes. A pain started in my chest at the thought that he’d rather just leave. Jamie held me tighter, whispering to me in Gaelic. 

A knock at the door shook both of us. Shooting one look at Jamie, I pulled back from his embrace and walked over to the door. Lamb stood on the other side, a contrite look on his face. 

“I’d like a fresh start if you think that’s alright,” he told me. 

I shook my head, a dry laugh bubbling out of me. “You always had to be so bloody dramatic.” 

“Curse of the trade,” he said with a shrug. “I heard what you said. And I’d like to start over.” He cleared his throat, standing up a bit taller. “Claire, I’m back from England. I’d love to take this time to catch up on your life.” 

I smiled despite the lingering anger I felt. Standing out of the way, I gestured for him to enter. “Lamb, there’s someone I want you to meet,” I said, playing along. “This is Jamie, my boyfriend.” 

Jamie smiled broadly — as he did every time I broke out the title. He reached his hand out to Lamb and met him for a shake. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jamie,” Lamb said in a friendly tone. Much friendlier than before. 

Jamie nodded to him. “The pleasure is mine.” 

I walked over and stood next to Jamie, my arm automatically wrapping around his waist. 

“Claire, you’re right, I don’t know much, if anything, about your relationship. How long have you been together?” 

I looked up at Jamie, a fond smile crossing my face. “Today is six months, actually.” 

Lamb’s eyes went wide. “Six months? And you didn’t tell me?” 

I felt a stab of guilt. “Well honestly, I wasn’t sure how you were going to react. I rather thought it would be like this,” I said, motioning to where he’d stood before. “You can imagine why I’d want to put that off.” 

Lamb shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, my dear. I played right into what you thought of me. I just never wanted anything bad to happen to you. I should have listened to you before I just jumped to my own conclusions. Jamie, if you would allow me, I’d love to go to lunch with both of you and get to know you better.” 

We flashed an unsure look at each other. “Well, uh, I appreciate the offer,” Jamie replied, “but you two are more than welcome to go.” 

“We don’t really go out in public together,” I explained. “Our relationship is a secret, save for Jamie’s family. We didn’t want people to accuse Jamie of...well, what you accused Jamie of.” 

I could see that Lamb was feeling guilty. I wasn’t too sure I cared all that much though. 

“We were actually going to order in it you’d like to join us,” Jamie offered. He glanced at me. “I thought about Frescos.”

“Oh I love Frescos!” Lamb cried, a smile on his face. 

Jamie grinned at the reaction. I shrugged with a smile as well. “I suppose we have a winner then.” 

* * *

We talked with Lamb for hours. He talked about teaching in England. Jamie talked about the show. I talked around my lightened workload. And together, we talked about our relationship. Once we got past the initial animosity, it was nice having the two most important people in my life in the same room. 

Eventually, Jamie walked toward our bedroom, changing so he could head to the theater. Lamb didn’t seem to feel the need to leave. I wouldn’t mind the chance to talk to him privately, so I didn’t encourage him to. 

As Jamie was putting on his jacket, Lamb walked over to him, reaching out his hand. “It was lovely meeting you, Jamie. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.” 

Jamie nodded, a pleased look on his face. “I would like that.” 

Lamb clapped him on the arm. “Break a leg tonight.” 

“Thanks.” 

Lamb and I essentially traded positions as I walked over to Jamie. He looked nervously past me, but I didn’t care. Leaning up to him, I kissed him softly. “I’ll see you later.” 

He nodded. “Aye.” 

I kissed him again, whispering to him. “I love you.” 

His lips pressed back to mine. “I love ye too.” 

With one more goodbye to the room, Jamie walked out the door. I waited for a short moment before I walked back over to Lamb. He watched me as I sat down and took a drink of my wine. 

“You were right,” he admitted, breaking the silence. “He seems like a good man.” I nodded, not really knowing how to reply. “And I can see how much he cares for you.” 

“I know he does,” I replied. “And I do too.” 

It was Lamb’s turn to nod. “I can see that. You know what else I see?” I shrugged. “I can see how happy you are. And that makes me happy as well. Even more than when you got your first show, you’re happy.” 

“I am. Truly.” 

“I’m glad.” Lamb took a drink of his wine. “I was never able to do that. To balance a relationship and work. So I just blindly pursued my work. I loved it enough. But that was my choice. And sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d tried a bit harder.” 

I took a long sip of my wine. “I wasn’t going to tell you this earlier — you know, when you thought Jamie was using me and all — but I am taking a bit of a break. Well, really, I’ve just shortened my weeks. I wanted more time to devote to building a relationship. I still work, but I’m also still able to make things work with Jamie. He was unsure about me making this choice, but it was my decision that I made on my own.” 

Lamb watched me for a moment. “It’s your career. If you needed that time, it’s yours to take. You’ve worked hard enough to build up a solid reputation. I’m sure when you have more time to give back to your career, it’ll still be there for you.” 

I nodded in agreement. “That was more or less what I thought as well.” 

* * *

Lamb and I parted on much better terms than when we met that afternoon. Later, when Jamie came home, he found me on the couch trying and failing to read my book. He grinned as he threw himself dramatically on the couch next to me. Grabbing my ankles, he pulled me toward him. I leaned into him easily. “Hi.” 

“Hello,” he replied, pulling me closer to him for a kiss. “How’s yer book?” 

“Haven’t really been able to focus on it, honestly.” 

“Thinking about today?” I nodded. “By the end, I thought it went alright.” 

I nodded again, moving so I could curl into his side. “It did. He really liked you. Once he saw you, Jamie, and not you, Actor.” 

“Well once I met him, Uncle Lamb, and not him, Director Lamb, I rather liked him as well.” 

My head leaned on his shoulder. “I’m glad. I’m sorry for all the shit at the beginning.” 

Jamie chuckled. “Ye dinna need to be. I’m just sorry we didna really get to celebrate our six months.” 

I picked my head up and looked at him. “Well I was thinking about that too. I thought of a way to celebrate.” 

Jamie’s eyebrows raised, a devious glint in his eye. “Oh?” He leaned closer to me.

I laughed, pushing his face away. “That too. But later.” 

He grabbed my hands, holding them in his. “Okay. Then what was yer thought?” 

Taking a deep breath, I watched him for a moment. “What if…” I took another breath. “What if you moved in with me?” 

Jamie’s eyes widened, seemingly trying to tell if I was serious. “Ye mean it?” 

I nodded insistently. “I do. On a logical level, it makes sense for us to have one apartment instead of two. But also, I just want you here, always. I love coming home from work and coming home to you. Even when we see each other just in passing, I know that I’ll see you as I arrive and you leave. Or knowing that if I go to bed before you get back, I’m still going to wake up next to you.” 

A broad smile spread across Jamie’s face as his hands tightened around mine. “It is rather nice.” 

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So…?” 

He pulled my hands back suddenly, bringing me against him. “Obviously, yes. I canna even remember the last night I stayed at my apartment because I havena wanted to. Because I want to be here. With you.” 

We shared a smile before his hand resting against my neck brought me down for a kiss. My hands linked behind his head as I kissed him long and deep. Neither of us really moved things forward. It was slow and sweet as we melted into each other in a haze of happiness. Six months had felt like nothing and everything at the same time.

Next chapter

[aforrestofstuff]

I’ve been looking at your posts for a while now and I love your Headcanons so much! I only made an acc today just to thank you for making these! Also I’ve also seen your A03 acc and read your fanfics there and I think you’re a great writer! I wrote a huge comment on one of your stories just rambling about how much I like your tumblr and works but I don’t think it sent cause I don’t have an A03 :( today I’m 15 and I was wondering if you’d make Headcanons for how you think S Class heroes would celebrate their birthdays (if that’s alright of course I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna) and also just a question, why don’t you do PPP headcanons at all? He’s an S Class Hero and I think he’s the only hero you skip out on. Other then that, keep making these headcanons cause they are great and inspire me for my own OPM crack storie book I created (Random One Punch Man Crack Fanfictions on Wattpad i only wrote one story there and only said it if you’re interested)

Thank you thank you thank you so much. I’ve already sent you a dm but I just wanted to say it again because I’m literally vibrating with happiness. Happy birthday <3.

Birthday Headcanons:

Terrible Tornado: Sticks a candle in a store-bought cupcake and calls it a day. She’ll go get her nails and hair done, buy herself a new dress, and just spend the entire time relaxing. Fubuki used to throw her parties when they were kids but she doesn’t really expect that from her anymore.

Silverfang: His disciples used to get together and throw him a surprise party every year. However, ever since the Garou Incident, Charanko will take it upon himself to fill the void somewhat and scrape together enough money to buy a cake (or the ingredients to make one) and a small gift. Silverfang can go both ways: he likes people but he can also be quiet and reflective. So, he has a great time regardless of whether or not he has a party and spends the day enjoying nature, meditating, and being thankful for living as long as he has.

Atomic Samurai: He’s not antisocial by any stretch of the word but he prefers to celebrate this day only with those closest to him. He and his disciples do something new every year and it’s always grounded and casual. Sometimes they’ll all go out to drink, sometimes Okama and Iaian will prepare a feast, sometimes they’ll have lighthearted competitions on who’s the best swordsmaster (with weird contests like who can balance their sheaths on their head the longest and who can catch the hilt of their blade after doing a backflip 3 consecutive times). Good times all around. However, if someone mentions Atomic Samurai’s age, he will sass them to oblivion.

Child Emperor: He doesn’t really plan to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s mostly just business as usual on his birthday. But after meeting Zombieman, however, he practically gets dragged out of the lab and into something special each year. Whether it’s a horror movie marathon, a late-night drive to catch a glittering view of the city, or just chilling and stuffing themselves on sweets, it makes Zombieman a little sad to see wasted youth knowing his life (and age) is as fucked up as it is so he tries to make the kid have at least a little fun the best he can. Child Emperor always has a great time and he now sees the importance of valuing youth and no longer shows shame in pausing his work and enjoying himself every once and a while.

Metal Knight: When he wakes up on his birthday, his alarm clock plays a little tune. That’s about it. He sees no real importance behind age or youth or seniority because as long as he’s at his height of intellect, nothing else matters. Gotta build them robots. It’s business as usual.

King: Holy shit. Shut the blinds. Lock the doors. Silence the phones. It’s game time, baby. Twenty-four hours of blue screen madness. He pigs out on chips, soda, buys himself a cake, and absolutely revels in solitude. He calls his mom each year and they talk for hours on end. She tells him how proud she is of him being a kickass hero and killing monsters and he dies a little inside each time but he loves her nonetheless and keeps up the facade for her sake. She sends him a card with a few coupons and a love-filled note about how much she adores him. He nearly cries each year upon receiving it.

Zombieman: He buys the best cigars he can find, cooks himself a massive T-bone, drinks an entire six-pack of beer, and reclines while watching crime movies. He wears sweatpants, polishes his weaponry, plays Mötley Crüe loud enough for his neighbors to yell at him for it, and just has a great time all by himself. He doesn’t really like parties or get-togethers and even sometimes has to take a break from Child Emperor. This is his day to recharge his social battery and sleep for seventeen hours. This is his day to get absolutely wasted on expensive alcohol and accidentally hotbox his own house. This is his day.

Drive Knight: Pretty much the same as Metal Knight. Whenever the clock strikes midnight on his birthday, a little tune plays in his processing unit and that’s about the end of it.

Pig God: Every restaurant in the damn country has a special on his birthday. He just goes around collecting free food, taking pictures with fans, and eats until he can’t eat anymore (which is a lot). The restaurants he visits have pictures of him eating their food on the walls; he’s become a bit of a indication that if he visits a somewhere to eat, the food’s gotta be bomb as hell. He doesn’t really do anything other than that. He doesn’t really strike up conversation or anything, he just eats in silent contentment and that’s enough for everyone to have a good time.

Superalloy Darkshine: He’s a fan favorite as well. Social media will be blowing up with birthday messages, he’ll be trending on whatever the OPM universe equivalent of Twitter is, and he’ll waste no time going out to meet his fans and spreading birthday happiness. He’ll eat cake, drink with strangers, share laughs and smile without stopping. People will give him little gifts and free food and he accepts it all graciously. Everyone’s invited. Good times all around.

Watchdog Man: This is one of the few days of the year in which he takes the day off from protecting City Q. He’ll just sleep a full twenty-four hours and resume his duty the next day like clockwork each year. Sometimes passerby will leave him little gifts on his podium like meats and dog treats but he doesn’t really take any of it since he’s really particular about what he eats.

Flashy Flash: On this day, he spends time reflecting on how much he’s improved since last year and adopts an extra-vigorous training regimen for the next twenty-four hours. One year, he climbed a mountain in sub-zero temperatures. Another, he ran across a saltwater lake without breaking the surface tension of the water. He spends it alone, occasionally has a drink, and that’s about it. Sometimes he’ll go out to have a nice dinner but that’s only on years he believes he’s deserved it.

Demon Cyborg: He doesn’t really care about his birthday. This makes Doctor Kuseno kind of sad because he believes that Genos is still a kid who deserves to enjoy his birthday like one. So, he does what he can to make the day somewhat special while also pertaining to what Genos could want. This is very hard because Genos never outright says he wishes for anything and that means Kuseno has to do a lot of guesswork. It varies year to year, but the best gift he’s ever given Genos was the sense of taste so the kid could eat birthday cake and enjoy it. Genos isn’t too fond of sweets, he much prefers fruits over cakes, but nevertheless, he was so happy to get one step closer to humanity that something malfunctioned in his head and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a whole week.

Metal Bat: Go hard or go home. This fuckin kid pulls an all-nighter with Zenko on the weekend of his birthday to stay inside, build a pillow fort, and play video games. They order pizza, do prank calls, play fighting games, and when the sun comes out they get a couple hours of sleep before riding out again at the height of a sugar high to go to the local carnival (he’s a summer baby) and spend a paycheck’s worth of cash. Once they come home, they collapse in Bad’s bed together, curl up, and fall asleep to some movies.

Tanktop Master: He and the Tanktop Gang have an all-out birthday bash. Everyone and their grandma is invited. There’s food, alcohol, and sports playing on the television in the host’s house (each of them take turns every year). The first few hours of partying, everyone’s having lighthearted fun and watching sports and drinking lightly (Tanktoppers drink responsibly). After that, everyone kind of calms down and they all gather around in the living room and sit on the floor together and just talk about what a great year it is to be alive. They catch up, share stories, eat snacks, and wish Tanktop Master the happiest of birthdays. He absolutely adores spending time with his friends and gives a toast to everyone and their hard work. After that, he goes home and calls his mom before going to bed.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He and his boyfriend share a slice of birthday cake from the prison cafeteria with a single candle stuck into it. His boyfriend gives him crochet and knitting lessons, they and the other prisoners dance to some music, and the guards give him a pat on the back along with some birthday wishes. That’s about it. There’s only so much he can do in prison, but he makes it work with what he has and has the time of his life nevertheless. Angel Hugs all around.

And to answer your question about PPP, I straight up just forgot he existed akshshshs. I’ll be brainstorming some stuff about him soon. Love you lots 💞💞💞💕

[ajokeformur-ray]

An old soul with young eyes // Lilith x others 💙💜💚💙

This is a comfort piece and gift for @jokerslilhyena​​ who is going through a tough time right now and deserves the entire world. I love you so much, darling, and I'm here for you. We all are, and we all love you so dearly and deeply. I hope that you like this, I, ah... pulled out all the stops for you and I hope you enjoy all of this. I’ve been working on it almost constantly for about a week and I’m so, so nervous to post this. There’s a surprise at the end 😊 If there's anything you dislike or want changed then please let me know, I got'cha! I love you, we all do, and we're all so proud of you!💜💙🥰

Summary: You just want to be taken care of with no worries. 

Total word countttt: 7, 510.

Arthur // wc: 1, 903.

A natural caregiver was Arthur.

It was one of the things which you loved the most about him; the way that he could just look at you and know exactly what you needed and even how you needed it. So emotionally intuitive and so driven was he to do and to be good, to do and to be everything that you needed him to be, that Arthur only ever had you in his mind. Everything that he did was for you, his Hyena. 

You were his only everything. His only kind face in a sea of apathetic, callous and cold, soulless citizens. His only audience when he practiced his shows as Carnival, your personal party clown. His only reason to do his best, to work as hard as he could. His only friend, his one companion, his one and only person who understood him. You loved him so deeply. Carnival was your smile and your laughter and Arthur, oh... he was the protector of all which Carnival held dear.

Arthur lived for you and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you. 

So when you were so worn down that it took everything you felt like you no longer had to even get out of bed, Arthur was devastated. He knew what it was like to be forced to work hard, to have no time to yourself and to feel suffocated by your home situation and by the responsibilities you had been forced to shoulder with little to no consideration for your own feelings by the very people who had given you those duties. Arthur knew and he understood exactly how you felt and it broke his heart. He would never have wanted you to go through the things that he went through every day and though he felt helpless, he also knew what would be best for you.

When you came home from work this night, so tired that you felt wide awake, thoughts of cooking yourself a steak, cracking open an ice cold, ripe Monster and having a shower before you went to bed were both right at the front of your mind and so far away; you needed to take physical care of yourself but you were just so tired. You would probably just grab some goldfish, a Monster, and shower. Or you could just skip food, you could do with the weight loss anyway... your physical exhaustion only fed into your weighted mental state and as you slid your key into the worn, slightly rusty lock, the delectable smell of a steak cooking reached your nose and your mouth began to water instantly. You heard the gentle padding of socked feet on worn carpet and Arthur almost came skidding around the sharp corner, his hands working on cracking the tab of an ice cold Monster.

“Lilith ~ !” Ecstatic was he to have his best friend home with him! The can was pressed into your hands and you giggled at Arthur’s enthusiastic greeting. He swept a hand through dark romantic curls which bounced against the tops of his shoulders as he did so. “How was work?” Arthur spoke as you drank heavily from the can and his eyes never once left you; he wondered how you could drink so much so quickly, but he also took pride in how well he was looking after you! He was the man of the house after all and that was his job! And he was making you even a little bit happy and oh, how Arthur thrived under such loving conditions! For every loving action he afforded you, you returned it tenfold. Both of you were such warm souls, and the warmth you both exuded was only returned by the other person and when you were together, why, it seemed as if neither of you would ever be cold again.

“It... was work.” You shrugged, slightly breathless from drinking more than half the can in such a quick time. Oh, but you would be relieved when it was finally time for you to leave your job. You so hated it and the way that you were treated by staff and customers alike. Arthur hummed in sympathy and quickly but hesitantly pressed a kiss to your forehead; he loved to lavish you in affection. He had little understanding of social boundaries and what was socially acceptable within certain types of bonds, but with you it didn’t matter. You always guided him and you always protected him and helped him and he loved you so deeply for not only being you, but the things that you did for him. You were his best friend, his one and only.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur shrugged with one shoulder, a light smile on his face, unhappy though it was. “And - oh! Dinner’s nearly ready - I made you steak.” Green oceans seemed to beg you for the approval which had always been his and you smiled.

“I - really?” Excitement ran through you even as your eyes stung with tears which you refused to shed. Affection was so rare a thing in your day to day life and the fact that Arthur never made you question his feelings for you or the way that you belonged with him never failed to make your heart swell in your chest. “Thank you. You take such good care of me.” You made sure to praise Arthur, knowing as you did that he needed that praise. It was something else which the two of you had in common with one another.

Arthur shrugged again as he feigned a casual attitude but you could see him practically glowing from your praise. “Of course. Why don’t you go shower, sweetheart? It’ll be done when you come out.” Arthur was almost frantic to take care of you now, before you got too tired to really function. You never realised how tired you were until you were finally home and Arthur knew better than most what that felt like. You nodded, already too tired to do much, and when you got to the bathroom, you found that there was a towel already waiting for you, and pyjamas had been laid out. They were mismatched, but the effort made you smile and your heart squeezed in your chest as you carried out your shower routine and got yourself settled and sorted.

Dinner was waiting for you on the small coffee table in the living room. So late in the evening was it that The Murray Franklin Show was playing, and you tiptoed quietly around the sofa, going across the back so that you didn’t get in Arthur’s way, and you eased yourself down beside him, your plate in your lap. “Thank you,” A quiet murmur and Arthur nodded absentmindedly, his green eyes trained on the television screen. The harsh blue light of the television gave his beautiful weathered face an eerie glow, and this moment felt perfect to you, all except for - “Have you eaten, Arthur?”

An impatient shake of the head. “Not - not hungry. Eat, Lilith. You need to eat.” Arthur’s voice was soft and gentle despite the slight bite in his actions, and you felt guilty. How could you eat a steak in front of someone who was clearly hungry? Still, you set to work with cutting up half of the steak; and with one hand did you rip into the steak with your teeth, a true Hyena were you with her teeth and ambitions bared, and with the other hand did you feed Arthur forkfuls of the steak. He tried to protest but oh, you took such good care of each other. 

When at last, at last, were you finally ready to call it a day and go to bed (though you would be up in only a handful of hours and you could already feel how tired you would be when tomorrow was over, too, though there was a little chance of reprieve between one day and the next), The Murray Franklin Show was over and Arthur grabbed the plate from your lap with one hand. The other hand caressed your cheek gently; so considerate and so affectionate a friend was he. He was truly so touched by the way that you had shared your food with him, even after he had said no had you seen him and you had acted accordingly and it only made Arthur love you more, it only made him more protective of you. 

On his way back from the kitchen, Arthur reached down for you and his fingers curled around yours, his thumb stroking gently over the back of your hand, “Come on, dance with me.” You went with your clown gladly and he swayed with you on your way to the bathroom, and as you turned into the door, which shut and then locked firmly behind you, did Arthur stand to watch the white wood; his strong dark brows furrowed as he knew not how to help you. Oh, but he could see you and he was terrified by what he saw. He wanted so badly to be there for you in every way that he could be, it was why he often asked if you wanted to spend the night with him. He wanted to take care of you the way that no one else ever did, for he knew well what it meant to have to look after so many others and to be left with no energy for your own self; you suffered for others’ gains and he hated that for you. 

You deserved so much better and Arthur was determined to give that to you, so while you were in the bathroom, he went and got the bed all ready for you. Arthur didn’t have much in the way of economic and material gain, but he had a heart full to the brim with love which had been sat within for a month shy of thirty six years with no one and nothing to give it to, and now you were the recipient of all of that love, so, really, you were the richest person in Gotham; a gift was it to be loved by Arthur so wholly and so completely. Whenever you stayed the night with Arthur did you sleep on the side closest to the window, that way could Arthur make sure that there was a final defence between you and any threat which may come into the bedroom. He was extremely protective of you, his best and most special, only friend, and Arthur would be there for you no matter what. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you and Arthur did his best to show you this every single day.

Arthur waited for you in bed, all snuggled up was he with your side of the duvet pulled back. So well had he prepared the room that you only had to slide beneath the sheets and sleep. That was all Arthur wanted for you now that you were clean and fed, and when at last were you in bed and snuggled into his side with his lips at your temple as he softly sung you to sleep, his arms tightly around you and his dark curls fanning across his pillow like a halo, a fallen angel was he, Arthur made sure that you stayed asleep.

It was the best thing he could do for you.

J // wc: 1, 916.

A joker he may be but nothing was more serious to J than taking care of you, his hyena.

You were being worked to the bone day in and day out with little to no reprieve and nothing you did was ever good enough for the people in your life. No one praised you. No one checked in on you. No one asked if you were okay. You were being pulled every which way every single day but like an elastic band would soon you snap if the tension within you and around you was not released.

The proverbial hands which held you tightly and had you outstretched between then were steady and their grip was unrelenting. Though your plight was obvious did no one see you. No one eased their grip as they forced you to stretch yourself too thinly. You ran on a handful of hours of disturbed sleep every night, taunted both by sleep paralysis and nightmares when you did get to sleep, and with each passing day did your exhaustion only increase, a vicious cycle of stress, sleep deprivation and a lifestyle which was too busy for your body had you found yourself in.

It was getting so bad that J was almost worried, you thought. He clung to you at night just as tightly as you held onto him, his entire body aligned with every plane of your own, his arm in a squeezing grip around you as if easing his hold by even the tiniest amount would reveal to him that in fact was he holding nothing but the cold and empty air. You were wrong in thinking that J was almost worried, however, because he was worried and, oh, how he hated what you were being forced to endure every single day. It was for this reason that when at last, at long last did you get off work, too exhausted to even think about what you still had to do when you got home, were you very pleasantly surprised by a familiar presence in your car. You thought you had seen one of his getaway cars speeding down the road when you were on your way to your own car... As you slid into the driver’s seat, two purple leather clad hands seized your face roughly, fingers curling behind your ears and massaging the scalp there absentmindedly as warm, sticky full lips captured your own in a kiss so fiery that within seconds did you lose your already shaky grip on reality.

J allowed you to fall into him until he picked up on your body’s need for oxygen now, and he chuckled as he pulled away from you, the noise not quite reaching the dangerous light in his dark brown eyes. “Well, hel-lo beautiful. And you are - beautiful.” Fingers slid from behind your ears and grazed your cheeks as J sat back in the passenger seat, looking pleased with himself for a moment before his face settled into something you couldn’t read. He made a show of putting his seat belt on and then clasped his hands together in his lap; he played the part of malicious innocence a bit too well, you thought. “Wasn’t, ah - fun today without ya’, babydoll. Daddy’s bored without his Hyena to tor-ment.” You heard what J said, his voice quiet and his words soft, but you listened to what he didn’t say, for everything J said was veiled in half-truths.

He missed you.

You put on your own seatbelt and started your car, looking over your shoulder as you pulled out of your parking spot to finally head home. “Yeah,” You sighed, too tired to fight your pleased smile, “I missed you too, J.”

J grunted quietly - you knew him so well that you could almost hear him say, don’t say it too loudly in your mind. Something was very obviously bothering him but you knew that your car wasn’t the place where J would drop his guard and unlock his heart, so you rode home in tense silence. Your tried and tired mind was racing the whole time as you sought to find answers to questions you knew you couldn’t and wouldn’t voice. You got home after your usual time and J almost launched himself out of your car, picking your lock to let himself in with a pin which seemed to come out of nowhere. Nothing surprised you when it came to J; he carried around blunt pencils just for the fun of killing someone with it later. You both knew that J had your house key on him at all times, safe and secure in one of his many inner pockets, but J did as he wanted and honestly, as long as he didn’t entirely break your front door down, you didn’t much care about how he let you both in. You had learnt long ago which battles were worth picking and this wasn’t one of them. Besides... you both knew that you were too tired for that.

As you crossed the threshold of your home and allowed J to shut and lock it behind you, his eyes darting about everywhere and his jaw muscles ticking as he watched, waited, for even the hint of a threat to his inner sanctum but, more importantly, to his you, you got yourself sorted and removed your unnecessary outer layer. Satisfied was J with your safety for the time being as next did you hear him banging around in the kitchen. You swore to yourself, fresh out of the shower, and braced yourself as you followed the noises into the kitchen - for nowhere could J go where you would not follow - for a mess, for the chaos J so dearly loved to strike into the very heart of the city of Gotham. But instead you found -

Dinner.

“Ta-da!” J’s voice was almost a growl as with a flourish which spoke of untold truths of J’s love for you did he present you with a plate. It was almost thrust into your face, so enthusiastic were J’s movements, and you blinked and took a step back instinctively. You didn’t like having things directly in your face without a warning. J frowned. “Whas’sa matter? Just food, doll. Ya’ know - stuff ya’ need.”

You looked at the food - J had really gone all out. He had cooked you a steak just the way you liked it, and next to it was a massive pile of goldfish; he’d literally upended an entire bag onto the plate and then tried to keep it separated from the steak so that the juices didn’t make the goldfish soggy. “I - thank you, J.” Your eyes stung with tears and you bit your lip against the wobble you knew was coming, so emotional and so easily overwhelmed were you. Your physical and mental exhaustion were reaching dangerous heights now, and of this you were both aware.

J shrugged, as if to say, it’s nothing, but you both knew that it was. “C’mon, take it, I want ya’ to take it.” J shoved the plate at you and with a whooping cackle did he rip open the fridge and grab a ripe can of Monster. He pulled the tab and handed it to you kindly - you’d have his head if he spilled even a drop of it. “A Monster for my monster, hm?” J ruffled your hair affectionately and you closed your eyes to enjoy the almost tender touch. Led were you to the sofa and though didn’t make it obvious, you knew that he was going to make sure you ate all of it. The goldfish could be saved for later so J wasn’t too worried about those, but he wanted you to eat all of the steak. He watched you carefully as you ate. It was a well known game that after every bite, you would show J that you had swallowed it with a mischievous glint in your dark eyes, and with a knowing gleam in his own chocolate eyes would J kiss you as a reward. Soon, you could taste J in every bite and it only made you more hungry, and you ate the steak and some of the goldfish before you knew it. 

You felt almost embarrassed for how you had eaten so much, but J was practically glowing with pride for you. “Atta’ girl,” He praised you easily, knowing how badly you needed praise, for no one in your life ever appreciated you or your efforts. But J did - J saw everything and he was always so, so proud of you. he took the plate from and walked backwards from the room, kicking the door open with one solid kick. He was gone and you knew that he had fris-beed the plate into the sink from the resounding crash which sounded from the kitchen. You moaned in irritation and rolled your eyes, yelling his name in exasperation. You were answered with a cackle as J came back as quickly as he had left,

“I can’t keep replacing plates every week, J!” You were truly irritated even with how tired you were and J frowned; this wasn’t the mood he had wanted to set. He had only wanted to get back to your side, where he belonged, quicker. There were twinges deep within him. He was definitely worried for you, but there was an almost urgent need for him to help you and to be there for you as much as he could be. He had fought it at first, angry and irritated with the way you made him feel, but the longer your relationship went on for and the more milestones you crossed and the darker the shadows under your eyes became, the moreJ wanted to support you the way that you always supported him. Yes, he wouldn’t ever say out loud that he loved you, but J knew deep within his soul that he did.

Still frowning, J literally waved your irritation off and eased himself down on the sofa beside you. As the weight of him on the sofa fully settled, you slumped to the side and automatically did J lift his arm up to pull you closer into his side. Full lips peppered the crown of your head with kisses and J nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing you in. “M’ so proud o’ya, little one. Don’t’cha see ya’self? Ya’ a force to be reckoned with, just like I taught’cha. But don’t forget to look after this, hm?” A hand came up and tapped your temple, and then he laid a hand across your heart, his grip firm. 

You knew what J was saying and you smiled serenely as you tipped your head up, up, and caught J’s lips with your own. You kissed him long, slow and deep as you poured all of you into the gesture, knowing as you did that J would catch you, his hands and arms open, ready and waiting for you. “I love you, Jack.” You whispered against his lips, a sign that you were tired, and he grunted quietly in acknowledgement. As you drifted off, safe in the arms of your clown, safe in your home, J carried you to the bedroom. He got you ready for bed, barely waking you, and he held you tightly for the entire night, for there was nowhere he would rather be than with his Lilith.

Pat // wc: 1, 972.

This one contains sexual elements; nothing explicit though.

Pat was no stranger to hard work or to all the ways in which life could and would wear you down, even with and sometimes because of your best efforts. He was no stranger to things piling up, to duties and responsibilities becoming too much even with how hard one could work. He was no stranger to stress, to fear, to worries and to anxieties and to questioning even how you would get through the day, unable was he often to see past today into tomorrow. That was an illusion, something promised but not guaranteed, and Pat didn’t trust it. He lived in and for the moment and right now, Pat could see you and your efforts and everything he saw only made him love you more, so determined and so strong a soul were you, but also made him worry more, for everyone had their breaking point.

He had been through so much for one so young, as had you and in the very early days of your relationship had you only bonded over your pains, your traumas and your fears. For many people was the honeymoon phase of a relationship short lived or full only of the superficial things which meant little in the long run, but the two of you had dived right in to the deep end, not bothering to even test the temperature of the unexplored and uncharted waters. The level of trust which had always existed between you, even when you were only just on a first name basis with each other, had brought the two of you ever closer to one another. For every time that one of your heads inevitably slipped too far beneath the surface of the water was the other person there with an already outstretched hand to pull the other back up from being wholly submerged beneath the murky depths of your own rocky psyches. Pat may have known how hard life could be even in the best of times, but this... oh, but this was something which was unprecedented even to a young man who had as much life experience as he did. 

He was well and truly stumped when it came down to how to help you and the only thing which he knew how to do was to just be there for you. So every night, when you stumbled home from work, so exhausted that you weren’t even yawning, Pat was there at the door with an ice cold can of Monster which he cracked the tab of for you before you drank from it long enough for the carbonated drink to begin to burn your throat, longing were you for even the tiniest amount of pain if only so that you knew that you were still alive. Dinner would always be ready for you, a gentleman was he, and the bathroom would be ready for you to take a shower. Pat did everything for you that he could, running his hand through those errant dark curls in frustration and in worry, his dark brows creased even as his eyes darted around the apartment, looking for other things he could do for you. Every single night was it the same, and his emotions only heightened and grew with each one which passed with no sign of a break for his dearest one. There was nothing your koala wouldn’t do for you and he showed that to you day after day, night after night. Pat’s concern only grew with each passing day, and when at last did you almost fall through the door on your way in from work this night, two large, warm hands were there to steady you, waiting had he been by the door. “Whoa,” Pat’s chuckle was slightly strained with worry, his dark brows creased with the same, “Easy, moon child. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, starshine” You swept a hand over your face and sunk into Pat, who hummed in understanding and pulled you into his embrace, his arms the safest cage around you. Pat pressed a series of kisses to the top of your head, his full lips warm and familiar against you, and you pressed into him, tucking your head under his chin. He smelled of apples, very faintly of cigarettes, of leather and of something which was just so Pat. You could only find his natural scent when you nuzzled into his neck; the hollow behind his ear smelt most like him and it was your favourite spot when it came to cuddling.

Other people may have been fooled by the mask you put on every morning, by the brief smiles you flashed which hid your gritted teeth, but Pat saw you. He saw you and even when you were on your best behaviour, you couldn’t fool him. Pat shook his head. “No, you’re not fine. C’mon, love, let’s get you ready to go to sleep, hm?” Despite his kind words, Pat’s tone was firm and he wasn’t going to take anything other than a yes as an answer. Pat was all for living separate lives and for just coming together at the end of the day, but when it came to you and your self-care, or lack thereof as was most often the case, Pat did not allow anything other than what was best for you. In this case was it dinner, shower and then bed. Everything else and anything else could and would wait until the morning. Nothing was more important to Pat than your well being and general health and any suggestion to the contrary of this was almost met with horror. What could be more important to him than you, the love of his life?

Dinner was already prepared for the both of you. Pat had waited until you got home to eat his own, not wanting to feel like he was reliving the summer that he had looked after his dying grandfather by eating dinner alone on the sofa watching television, and he had taken a shower with you, as well. The two of you had slowly and reverently washed each other’s bodies and hairs, your touches upon each other sensual but nothing sexual; a subtle but important distinction and a line which Pat toed every single day. Your body was his temple and daily did he lay worship at your altar. Truthfully did you do the same for him, for you were equal in every single way. You physically and emotionally leaned upon Pat as you got out of the shower, truly beyond exhausted, and his face was set in stone as he tidied up after you while you brushed out your hair, got into your pyjamas and took care of yourself. Pat was so worried that he was almost scared for you and it was all he could do to just take care of you every single day. He was one of the reasons you were still here, though of course this was an unspoken and terrible truth, and Pat would do anything to continuously add to that reason, so deeply and so unconditionally did he love you.

So tired were you always that even before you were out of bed each morning could you already feel how tired you would be when you came home that day, and on did the cycle continue, for never could you get all of the desperately craved rest which you needed before you were again being pulled in all directions with no choice or chance to catch up with your own self between one day and the next. Pat was there for you through it all, and never did he make his worry clearer to you than when it was finally time to go to sleep. You collapsed onto the bed with a long drawn out and weary sigh and Pat chuckled, the sound somewhat strained, as he eased himself down into the bed beside you. He was just as tired as you were from a lifestyle equally as hectic, and the nights were truly just for the two of you. You went to him gladly and Pat wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders as he tucked you tightly into the side of his body. His lips pressed tender kisses to your temple and your cheek, his fingers stroking along your arm with long, slow and lazy drags of his nails against your skin. Goosebumps were raised and you shivered under his careful touches, making the young man smile languidly as he spoke his thoughts aloud, staring at the ceiling and knowing that right here with you was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

“You could never disappoint me, marshmallow.” Pat squeezed you to emphasise his name for you and you smiled lovingly. His voice was rich and deep with his need for sleep and it made longing stir within you. Dampness pooled between your thighs but you paid it little mind; if an orgasm was what it took to make you feel anything then it may as well wait until the morning. It gave you something to wake up to, in any case, and you were sure that Pat would be more than willing to help you out. You turned your face and pursed your lips so that you could gift Pat with a series of gentle and reverent kisses, your touches slowing down the longer you laid there. The duvet seemed to perfectly fall over your weary body and you fit so snugly against Pat’s side. It was like you were always supposed to be there, like you were made for him; though of course were you whole individuals outside of your relationship. He was firm against you yet soft and so warm that it was like cuddling a heater. “I’m so proud of you,” Pat pulled you even tighter against him as he tucked your head beneath his chin, both of his arms around you now as you both got comfortable to sleep. “And I love you, Lilith. You’re so strong and I don’t know how you do it.” Another tender kiss was dropped to the crown of your head, a queen were you, and then Pat closed his eyes with a sleepy hum.

“Me neither,” Your words were spoken in an exhale and Pat only held you tighter. Your tongue was heavy with exhaustion, your mind telling you that there was something malicious and nefarious hanging from the ceiling above your mirror. You shut your eyes tightly and bid your Aussie good night. “I love you too, peppermint,” was what you thought you said. You were unsure, however, for already were you slipping into sleep. It greeted you gladly and though you would only be gifted with a maximum of six hours, it was still something and Pat would always be there for you when you awoke; he lived his life for you, with you, and there was no mood so dark, no sky so cloudy, no ocean so rocky, that he would ever leave you. 

If Pat was a koala, then you were his tree and always would he cling onto you for dear life, even and most especially when you bent and swayed with the wind. You were strong and you stood tall, and if ever were you chopped down would Pat be there with a loving, gentle hand to attach splints to your trunk as he patiently and quietly waited for you to grow to stand tall once more. For Pat were you the very embodiment of love and it was for this reason that he sometimes thought of you in only the most natural of terms. Your love was as natural and as easy as breathing and like a flower would it blossom and bloom when it was nurtured and cared for.

Hanni // wc: 1, 719.

(This GIF is 👀🥵🔥💦)

I haven’t written for Hannibal since October 2019 so if this is bad, I am extremely sorry omg this one wrote itself so hopefully it’s not too rusty! 💞

Oh, but the feeling you experienced whenever you even thought of your darling Hannibal was unlike anything you had ever or would ever experience again. You loved him so deeply and so completely that even just his name filled you with hope and with comfort. He was your protector, your guiding light, your safe haven. Hannibal was everything you ever needed or wanted him to be, and therein lay the danger, though of course at this stage in your unconventional but cherished relationship were you more than aware of him and his dietary requirements and of all the things he did to maintain and to conceal who he was and the acts he committed without much of a thought. Most especially if it was for you would Hannibal act in increasingly aggressive ways, for no one hurt his Hyena, and that included you. Hannibal couldn’t abide even the idea of you being harmed, even by your own hand, and on this night would he begin to address that which was obvious but left unvoiced. To voice your daily feelings, numbness and unspoken wishes would be to make them collectively real and of the two of you was Hannibal the most willing to do that. To make it real would be to give it power, but he would quickly render your demons powerless, so skilled a psychiatrist was he. 

For starters, to say that you were tired was a very severe understatement. You were... exhausted. You felt constantly sleepy and the shackles of your continued fatigue only grew heavier and heavier as the days passed. Delicious did you smell to Hannibal, the cloying sweetness of your deteriorating emotional state filling his nostrils every time you walked past him, but the fun of seeing you being pushed right up to the brink of what you could take had grown old fast, concerned was Hannibal from a psychological and even physical point of view. 

You were not taking care of yourself. You barely ate and you drank Monsters like the energy drink was going out of fashion. You fuelled yourself on caffeine and sugar, the crash inevitable but never did it land due to the sheer volume that you drank. Hannibal trusted you to know your own limits and though his lip curled up in distaste when he caught you grabbing yet another out of his large, industrial fridge, he said nothing. He did nothing. He only watched you with growing concern and increasing curiosity.. You barely got any sleep, though this was not your own fault, taunted and tormented were you by sleep paralysis and nightmares. Hannibal, caring and loving was he in his own ways once one understood how to speak his love language, always stayed with you. 

When you laid in bed together, the way that you were right now after yet another long, tiresome day, Hannibal made sure that you knew that he was there for you. Not only was it to further his own agenda, for you were less likely to ever even consider turning him in to the FBI if you trusted him so implicitly and depended on him so wholly, and you wouldn’t leave him if you truly needed him, but also was Hannibal always there for you because he wanted to be, for nothing did Hannibal do unless it so amused him. You were laying tightly against his side, his strong and firm arm around your shoulders. His fingers gripped the flesh there, naturally reassuring you was he in the way he was pressed so solidly against you. Your arm was slung around his waist. Barely had you put your weight down on him, scared were you of being annoying or of touching him in a way which he disliked. Hannibal had only said that you could do as you wished but he hadn’t said how and so you struggled with it in a way, for what if you did it wrong? Hannibal, knowing you as well as he did, used his spare hand to keep yours where it was on his body. Every time you moved your hand away in a way which suggested you were unsure or uncomfortable, warm fingers would creep into the spaces between your own and Hannibal would raise your now joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses along the back of your hand. “Stay, dearheart. You are wanted.”

You wanted to ask Hannibal if he was sure. You wanted to ask him why he kept you around, why he hadn’t killed you. Did he ever think about it? You wanted to know the methods he had thought of, the displays he would use to honour you, which parts of you he would choose to carry within him forever... but in two minds were you and so you did not ask. It was wiser to never ask questions you didn’t want the answer to. You stayed silent, your body tense where previously had you almost been melted into your love’s side, and Hannibal chuckled quietly. A tender, reverent kiss was pressed to your forehead, his lips warm and soft against your flesh. “You’re practically screaming inside your head, Lilith. Why should that be, hm?” Hannibal tilted his head so that he could nuzzle the side of his jaw against your hair, his breaths controlled so that he could breathe you in properly. “You are safe with me. I shall not harm you and nor will any others.”  You closed your eyes to better feel Hannibal around you. He was completely surrounding you in this moment. His scent was in your nose, his voice rumbled through his chest and gently caressed your ears, his heart pounded steadily in your ear and it never went above eighty five beats per minute. His body was closely touching yours and everything that you knew was Hannibal. It was how you wanted it all to be for now and for always; never again did you want anything else than this... just this.

You sighed heavily, the sound saturated with the true depths of your exhaustion. “I’m just so tired of feeling bad, Hanni. I never get any time for me. I always have to be working or sorting out stuff for university or going out into town and I stay up so late every night just for a chance to breathe. So I wake up more tired and then it continues, and - “ You felt yourself wanting to cry and Hannibal inhaled deeply, smelling your budding tears so that he could put the composition together... anger, sadness, frustration, tiredness, love... the last one didn’t surprise him, not really, but his lips did quirk upwards in satisfaction and in unspoken affection for you as well. Hannibal wouldn’t address it this time, but before you went to sleep would he say those three little words you so cherished. It was a night time routine for the two of you just like everything else was. “I’m just really tired.” You pushed yourself into Hannibal, your head going beneath his chin more securely, and Hannibal hummed as he rolled with you so that you were both lying on your sides facing each other, your foreheads pressed together in a familiar and intimate gesture. You had an arm around each other’s waists, though Hannibal was extremely careful to not touch you anywhere where you couldn’t or wouldn’t handle it, and Hannibal tipped his head upwards to press a kiss to your forehead, then to the bridge of your nose, your left cheek, your right cheek... your chin and then your lips. His kiss was slow, gentle, and his hand came up to cup your face as hannibal put as much care into this good night kiss as he could, not wanting you to doubt any part of him. 

You had the rarest gift of all; the gift of seeing Hannibal. You wanted it, you always had, and it had been practically gift wrapped for you upon the realisation that you wanted it as much as Hannibal wanted you to. Hannibal saw you just as easily as you saw him and he kept you safe within yourself even when your demons were screaming at you at such a high pitch that you could no longer truly hear them, white noise were they in your background thoughts. “You are killing yourself for other people, my dear. Think very carefully about who you give your energy to - once dampened, this energy cannot be returned. You must live your life when it is safe to do so, and not before.”

You hummed to acknowledge Hannibal, not wanting to be rude. “Yeah. I just...” Hannibal made no noise as he tipped his head to kiss your tears away, finally getting to taste them for himself. Positively delectable, my love. “I’m really tired.” You leaned forward to spoil Hannibal’s own flesh with kisses, wanting to give back to him as much as you could, and he allowed you that time and space, appreciative was he of your reciprocation. He truly did enjoy you and your company and he was very protective of you, whether you actively knew about it or not. Right now, Hannibal needed for you to sleep, it was imperative, and so he directed the conversation to its inevitable conclusion a little faster. Your physical health had to come first so that when you were well rested could he attend to your soul; your beautiful, radiant, warm and ethereal soul.

“I know.” Hannibal sounded almost smug. “I wondered when you would tell me. I can only be there sometimes to help you but I know you can stand up enough on your own. Your teeth as a hyena remain. You are not yet bested by that which so commands you. I am proud of you. You’re resilient and strong. But you must rest now, darling. It is important.” You allowed your eyes to drift shut. Hannibal, already knowing what you wanted, held you tightly, his forehead against yours, his arms around you, and he continued to talk to you until you were sleeping. In the morning, he would address the things you had opened up to him about but for now... oh, for now, you were as safe in the lion’s den as it was possible to be. 

Or were you?

[gingerwritess]

"Person A is pregnant but finds out just before Person B has to gone on a six month long trip. When Person B returns Person A surprises them with their growing baby bump hilarity and confusion ensues" Maybe this one for Elliot and dad!Loki? have a great day sweetcheeks

combined with this request from @mylovelycrazyworld

summary: well…Elliot wanted a sibling. it’s about time he got one.

warnings: pregnancy stuff, a tiny hint of angst, missing Loki, fluff, and lots of Elliot silliness

a/n: FIRST OF ALL I AM SO PROUD OF THIS so i hope you e n j o y

sorry, second, i got waaay too carried away with this and suddenly its like a part of a wholeass story and yeah we’re gonna move this little storyline right along.

third i accidentally posted this before it was done a couple weeks ago so if you read it that time, i’m so sorry, this one is done and much better.

i’m also so sorry i’ve been gone lately. it’s been a crazy hectic last couple weeks so i haven’t had much time to sit down and finish writing anything! thanks for sticking around :)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Of course Loki had to leave this week, of all weeks.

Elliot’s taking the separation fairly well; Loki had left for Asgard with a kiss on the forehead, a tight hug, and a pretty serious request.

“You’ll take care of your mother for me while I’m away, won’t you?”

The little boy had promised, naturally, trying to look as serious and grown-up as he could, and even offered his hand to Loki for a handshake when he went in for a hug goodbye. Loki’s jaw had dropped in shock; then he pushed Elliot’s hand out of the way and swooped him up laughing into his arms for a tight, chaotic, firm hug.

So now you have a protective five year old fussing over you all day long, which is honestly worse than having a protective 1000+ year old fussing over you. He tries to do everything he sees Loki doing, everything he’s supposed to do to “take care of his mother:” like holding your hand in every possible situation, running up behind you and hugging the back of your legs, he’s even kissed your forehead at one point.

Loki’s trained him well.

But morning four of Loki being gone brings an unexpected turn. Elliot has been sleeping in your bed with you, wanting to keep you company—but mostly just missing the clone that Loki normally lets Elliot cuddle up with every night. This Tuesday morning, he’s laying across your stomach, happily sucking a thumb and drooling onto your shirt—well, technically it’s Loki’s.

It would’ve been nice to wake up and see his chubby little face all squished up with sleep, but you’re brutally shaken from your rest by a lurching stomach—you’re going to throw up, right now. You try to push Elliot off you as gently as you can, already retching as you shove him one last time, a little harder than you meant to, and he groggily sits up.

“Whasgoin’on?” He rubs the sleep from his eyes, but you’re already sprawled on the tiles in the adjacent bathroom floor, emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet. “Mom! No, mom, what’s wrong?!”

“S-stay—stay back,” you cough and wave him away just as before another retch doubles you over, chest heaving when it finally simmers down. “Just give me a second, okay? You don’t want to see this, bud.”

“But are you okay? You got really sick!” He rushes up behind you and starts rubbing your back with a cool little hand. “Ew, you smell kinda funny.”

“Gee, thanks, kiddo.”

“I’m just sayin’!” He holds his nose with one hand, using the other to wrap around your waist and lean into your side. “What does dad do to help you when you’re sick?”

You pull yourself up and over to lean back against the wall, trying to catch your breath and running a hand through Elliot’s curls. “Uses his magic stuff to make me feel better…cuddles with me, just like you’re doing.” You smile weakly down at the little boy, and he quickly lays his little hands on your stomach. “No no no, don’t try it, it’s okay! I feel better!”

“Aw, man.” He sadly retracts his sparking hands—thank god—and nestles back into your side. “I’m getting gooder at my magic, ya know. Dad’s teachin’ me real good.”

“I don’t doubt it, Elliot,” you assure him with a light squeeze of a hug. “But you probably shouldn’t test out any of your magic on people, okay?”

He nods seriously, patting your stomach gently. “Good idea. I gotta be careful with your tummy now, too.”

“Don’t worry, buddy, this is just a bug. I’m already feeling better.”

Elliot shakes his head and crawls onto your lap, leaning down to put his ear to your stomach—what in the world? He listens for a moment and suddenly the wheels in your brain start turning: oh my god. This couldn’t mean…?

The little boy sits up again and feels your stomach one more time, focusing hard on something. “Nope, s’not a bug,” he smiles and gives your belly another gentle pat. “It’s just my baby tryna say hi.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Six pregnancy tests later, there’s no doubt about it. How Elliot figured it out before you even had a hunch, you have no idea, but the little piece of plastic drops from your hand when you flop face-first onto the bed, mind swirling.

This isn’t a surprise.

Elliot had asked. Loki and you had talked, agreed; this is what you want. But really, baby?

Now?

Loki doesn’t get back for another four months. Pregnancies are hard; you’re not going to pretend they aren’t, and to not have your husband here to help you through it…this is going to be much different than when you were pregnant with Elliot.

You glance once more at the last test: positive as ever.

Pregnant. Again.

Sighing audibly, you roll over on the bed and grab Loki’s pillow, hugging it to your chest and breathing deeply, eyes drifting shut.

“We’re gonna be fine,” you whisper, your voice serving more to soothe your own racing mind than anything, “we’re gonna have another baby, and we’re gonna be fine.”

You bury your face in the pillow, hugging it tighter. It smells like Loki—heavenly.

That’ll have to do for the next four months.

* * * *

“What does dad wanna name the baby?”

The plastic fork scrapes against Elliot’s plate in grating anticipation of your answer. He’s picking at his lunch; his appetite hasn’t been quite so bottomless with Loki having been gone for so long.

For yours, on the other hand, the exact opposite is true.

“Dad…doesn’t know yet.” You rip another chunk of bread from the entire baguette in your hand and dip it in butter. This baby seems to have an appetite for seven and a particular fondness for carbs.

Wonderful.

“That’s ok,” Elliot nods thoughtfully. “Names are hard to come up with. I think it should be…blueberry! Cause I love blueberries so much and I love my baby—”

“No, no, I meant…” you struggle to swallow your mouthful of bread and hold up a finger. “Dad doesn’t know that we’re having a baby yet.”

“Why not?”

…yeah, that’s a good question. You probably should’ve called Loki a good while ago, when you’d found out you’re expecting—I mean, it’s his kid too.

But telling Loki he’s going to have a second child just seems like something you don’t do over the phone.

“I don’t want to miss his reaction,” you answer honestly, shoving another chunk of baguette in your mouth. “I wanna sh-uprise ‘im when ‘e gets home.”

Translation: I’m terrified.

Elliot eagerly claps his hands together, the fork falling to the table with a clatter. “That’s a good idea!” He squeals, jumping up to run over and climb into your lap, laying his little hands on your belly. “Dad’s gonna be so excited to meet Blueberry, he’s gonna cry—”

“We are not naming this baby after a fruit. Sorry, kiddo.”

* * * *

An agonising two more months pass, lonely and chock-full of horrid cravings, mood swings, aches and pains and puking nearly every single morning…this baby already seems to hate you.

Elliot’s been a little trooper the past four months.

Hugs whenever you need them, plenty of crayon drawings of your family so you “don’t miss dad too much,” peace and quiet when you fall asleep at the table again, even a few attempted breakfasts in bed. He’s been so sweet and helpful when you know he misses his dad more than anything, so today you drag yourself out of bed, throw up once for good measure, and tell him to get ready for an ice cream trip.

Loki was supposed to be home a week ago, but you can’t let yourself think about that.

Driving with your little bump of a belly is starting to get really uncomfortable, but you make it alright to the little ice cream parlour that Elliot claims makes the best cotton candy ice cream of all time.

“I miss my dad,” Elliot pipes up while you’re sitting in silence, a faint bluish tint to his skin due to the coldness of the ice cream. “He shouldn’t hafta leave ever again.”

“Same here, kiddo, I’m sorry.” You lay a hand on your belly and try to give Elliot a reassuring smile. “This little monster misses him too, but they’re just glad that they have an awesome big brother to take care of them!”

That brings a halfhearted smile to the little boy’s face, and he goes back to licking his ice cream cone, watching you with reddish eyes deep in thought.

“Y’know, dad loves you, mom.” Elliot reaches over to take your hand in his tiny, sticky one, much to your surprise. “He loves you a whole lot, I know it, and he’s not gonna be angry that we’re havin’ another baby.”

Your jaw drops.

What the hell??

Your son, who is apparently getting some kind of crazy read on your thoughts right now, leans over the table and plants a sticky blue kiss to the back of your hand—just like he’s seen Loki do countless times. “Don’t be ‘fraid of him, he’s gonna be so super excited.”

Part of you kind of wants to run away screaming, but maybe mothers shouldn’t do that to their children, so you just gape like a dying fish at the strange little mini-Loki in front of you.

“I’m…I uh…” your mouth opens and closes a few times while your brain tries to catch up. “I’m not…I’m not scared of dad, Elliot, what makes you say that?”

You’re not…right?

Elliot licks his ice cream cone again, catching a drip down his arm. “Nah, you’re ‘voiding your ‘sponsibilities.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re scared to tell dad about Blueberry, right? I heard you in my dream, you told me dad was gonna be upset and get scared to have two kids.”

You swallow hard, trying to find the lie in his innocent statement. “But he—no, he won’t be upset, he wants another kid, he told me.”

This kid is ripping you to shreds, covered in blue and pink melted ice cream.

“S’what you told me,” Elliot shrugs. “Said dad’s gonna like one of us better.”

…you’ve got to pee again.

A blessed escape, cause if Elliot says one more word about Loki or this baby, you’re pretty sure your hormonal self is going to break down in tears.

“I’ll—I’ll be right back,” you choke, scooting your chair back with a loud scrape and pulling yourself to your feet. “Are you okay to stay here? I’ll only be a couple minutes right over there, no talking to strangers, you know the rules.”

Elliot nods, looking worried as you swipe at your eyes and set down your cup of ice cream with shaking hands. “You okay, mom?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be right back,” You mutter and rush off to the bathroom.

You certainly didn’t look fine, but Elliot shrugs to himself and goes back to his ice cream, keeping a wary eye on the other people in the shop.

“Did your mother just leave you out here all alone?”

Elliot spins around in his chair at the voice, dropping his ice cream cone to the floor and bringing his hands up ready to fight whoever is approaching him—Loki’s taught him enough to fend for himself.

But when he whirls around, he immediately lowers his hands and jumps out of his chair—it’s Loki.

“DAD!” Elliot scrambles out of the chair and bolts into Loki’s waiting arms, knocking him over with the force of his hug. “Dad, dad, you’re home! You’re home!!”

“That I am,” Loki laughs, hugging the little boy tightly to his chest. “I missed you so much, Elliot, so much.”

“Hey!” Elliot points a little finger into Loki’s chest, suddenly serious. “Don’t you ever leave us again, ‘kay??”

“Of course, I’m so sorry I had to—”

“Pinky promise??” Elliot shoves his little finger in Loki’s face, and the god chuckles, extending his own to seal the promise.

“Pinky promise. Hopefully.”

Satisfied with the agreement, Elliot jumps off his dad and rushes back to the table, frowning at the sticky mess that’s left of his ice cream on the floor. “You owe me an ice cream, dad, look whatcha made me do.”

“My sincerest apologies, young man,” Loki chuckles, swooping the kid up in his arms for another squirming hug, trying to sneak a few tickling kisses somewhere on his face. “Where is your mother?”

You come out of the bathroom just in time to hear Elliot answer “hidin’ from you, I think,” and you stop dead in the middle of the shop when you see your husband smiling wide and holding Elliot in his arms.

“Elliot! No I’m not!” You shake yourself out of your shocked daze, running over to the two of them and nearly knocking them over when you throw your arms around Loki’s neck.

Immediately setting Elliot back on the ground, Loki breathes your name and draws you into the tightest embrace he can manage, his arms clutching you so close you have to plant your hands on his chest and gently push him away to keep him from hurting your belly.

He doesn’t seem to notice, but Elliot sure does.

Loki’s hands cradle your face as he pulls away and just stares at you for a moment, trying to decide if words could even begin to describe how happy he is to be with you again.

“I missed…oh, come here.”

He laughs with watering eyes and pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours over and over until neither of you can breathe, half laughing, half teary-eyed because he’s here, you’re all here, together finally.

“That was—mmph—too long,” you laugh around Loki’s relentless lips, keeping a hand to his chest to keep him from your baby bump.

Elliot bounces on the balls of his feet, glad to see his parents so happy again, but sticks a hand between you both to cover your belly. “Careful, dad, don’t hurt my b—”

“ELLIOT!” You cut him off with a nervous chuckle, shooting him a pointed look—shh!

The little boy claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Loki asks with a breathless laugh, his hand cradling the back of your head to keep you pressed against him.

“Nothing, nothing,” you assure him, kissing him again. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re home, Loki. Tell us everything!”

He holds you away from him for a moment with his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down with a dopey grin on his face—you’re really glad you wore a too-big shirt today, it covers your beginning baby bump pretty well.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief—he missed you. His eyes fall on your chest and linger for a half a second longer; your breasts seem…bigger than when he left.

Trust me, he would know.

But he shakes it away and pulls up a chair, and the three of you launch into a detailed retelling of everything you’ve missed over the past four months.

“Well, everything went wrong the moment I stepped foot in Asgard.” He leans forward, eager to tell his story. “There had been an attempt on the relics, and rumours of more to come, so we had to—what’s so funny?”

Elliot’s covering his mouth with a sticky hand, desperately trying to muffle the giggle-fit overcoming him as he looks at you: you’re clutching your stomach with an extremely pained grimace, trying to get comfortable in the little metal chair.

“Nothin’…” he snorts and quickly looks away from you when you glare at him. “What happened next, dad?”

“Okay…” Loki shoots you a confused glance and you quickly grin back, trying not to look like there’s a tiny human laying directly on your bladder right now.

How’s that working out for you?

“Are you alright, my love? You look like you’re in pain.”

“Just a stomachache!” Your gritted laughter is nervous but hopefully convincing enough.

“Are you sure? Just tell me, darling, I can disspell the sickness in less than a second—Elliot!” He whirls around in his chair to glare halfheartedly at the little boy giggling again. “Your mother is in pain, why are you smiling??”

“‘Cause I know something you don’t know,” Elliot sings, clapping his hands with glee and wiggling around in his seat. “Mhm, I’ve got a secret, ‘n I’m not tellin’—”

“Elliot. That’s enough.”

You reach over and pull the little guy into your lap, clamping both hands over his mouth and smiling sweetly at your husband—who just looks very confused. And a little worried.

He’s made it pretty clear that there would be no secrets in this little family of yours.

“Our son…has a secret?” Speaking to you, not Elliot, he raises an eyebrow and it’s not exactly amused. “Care to enlighten me, wife?”

“Don’t worry, Loki, it’s not a secret,” you sooth, tapping Elliot’s mouth twice before letting him go again. “It’s more of…a surprise, really.”

Elliot clasps his hand behind his back and rocks forward on his toes, excited eyes darting back and forth between you and Loki.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“But you’re really gonna like this one,” Elliot promises, sending an overly dramatic attempt of a wink your way.

Unbelievable.

Letting out a dismayed groan, you drop your forehead to your hand. “Elliot, please stop…”

Loki crosses his arms, already looking a little on the defensive side with lips tightly pressed together—this is exactly why you didn’t want to tell him. Way to go, kid.

“If you have something to tell me, tell me now.”

“I—can I tell you at home? Later?”

The god sighs, not able to help feeling as if the joy of your reunion had been let out faster than the air in a deflating balloon—now he’s worried, feeling excluded, almost offended.

Secrets. Never a good idea within a family.

“Don’t worry, snowflake,” you chirp with feigned nonchalance. “You’re gonna love this surprise.”

Your fingers cross under the table.

* * * *

Loki doesn’t bring it up the rest of the day.

You’d guessed he would mention it again at least during dinner, try to pry the information from you, but he smiled and listened to Elliot talk about his loose tooth, eating his food apparently unbothered.

Your knee hasn’t stopped nervously bouncing since you sat down.

Maybe he knows? If Elliot felt it, Loki certainly could. The kid’s voice is still echoing through your mind as you get Elliot ready for bed:

“You told me dad was gonna be upset and get scared to have two kids.”

Okay, maybe you’re a little worried that Loki’s past may hinder his enthusiasm for a second child, but you’ve never even admitted to yourself that he would be upset or scared. But the more you think about it, the more sense it makes: he would be terrified.

Favouring one child over another? That would be Loki’s worst nightmare, yet he hadn’t brought that up when Elliot first asked for a sibling. He’d happily agreed to have a second kid, kissing away your concerns…

Hugging your arms around yourself, you stare at his back from the doorway. His hair is lazy, pulled into a mindless knot on the top of his head; he looks relaxed, doing dishes. At peace with his life.

His life with his wife and his one son.

Did he lie to you?

Had he looked you in the eye, said “I want another baby,” and lied?

God of lies, you keep letting yourself forget.

Your mind goes berserk right there in the kitchen, convincing you that he lied to you, that this baby is unwanted, that he only said that he wanted another baby to keep you happy, that no, he didn’t ever want children, he just wanted to fuck you, that everything he’s ever said to you is a lie—

“Your thoughts are deafening, my love.”

You jump with a start as his voice interrupts your destructive train of thought. “Were you listening?” You immediately ask, voice venomous. “Loki, did you listen?”

He turns around and dries off his hands, leaning back against the counter with a sad smile. “Of course not, out of respect for your secret. I trust you to tell me.”

You stare at him, unmoving and unsure, and he pushes himself away from the counter to take a few tentative steps toward you. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, sensing your troubled mind. “You need rest, then you can tell me this secret when you are ready.”

Nodding slowly, you let him take your hand and lead you to the bedroom, keeping your mouth firmly shut. He shuts the door behind you and you walk straight to the bed, laying down and turning your back on him to avoid this as long as possible.

“Don’t you want to change first?” Loki laughs, and the mattress dips as he climbs on next to you, laying right against your body and pulling you back into him. “Those pants can’t be comfortable, let me get them off of you.”

You shake your head—horny, lying bastard.

“…would you like me to draw you a bath?” He’s trying a gentler approach now, noticing your apprehension and holding you closer.

Another shake of the head.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Your hand subconsciously falls to your little baby bump, but Loki’s follows right after to cover your own hand with his.

You’re sick of this—just tell him.

You slip your hand out from under his, grab his wrist, and press it to your belly. His breath catches in his throat, you can hear it, and his cold hand gently runs across the swell of your stomach.

“What is this?”

Just say it.

“I’m pregnant.”

He sits straight up behind you and you screw your eyes shut—he’s going to leave now, right?

But he doesn’t leave; instead cold hands grip your waist and pull you onto your back, catching the hem of your shirt and promptly ripping it from your body.

“Loki!”

He looms over you, knees on either side of your body as he stares down at you. His eyes are wide and a distracted hand rubs over his mouth, trying to process this.

“How long have you known?” His voice is barely a breath.

“…four months.”

“You didn’t tell me?”

The hurt on his beautiful face is a sucker punch to the gut—you idiot, of course he wouldn’t be upset. This is Loki we’re talking about, your husband, the father of your child—children.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise quietly, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t…I thought you-you would be upset.”

He breathes a laugh and carefully runs his fingertips down your sides, trying to memorise the sight of you carrying his child…again.

“Why would I ever be upset, my love? I can’t believe you’re this pregnant and you didn’t tell me—”

“Elliot said something,” you anxiously cut him off. “It was stupid, really, I’m stupid for believing it…” you take a breath and ramble on. “He said he had a dream you got upset about having two kids cause you might like one more than the other.”

Loki pauses his kissing down your torso, freezing with his hand splayed across your baby bump. “How did he…”

“I dunno. He was freaking me out, Loki, he started telling me things I wasn’t even thinking yet.”

“That’s my boy,” the god laughs, resting his forehead on your stomach as your brow knits in concern.

Carding your fingers through his hair, you nudge Loki’s head up to look at you. “This doesn’t worry you?”

“Our son turns blue when he touches something cold.” He presses his lips to your stomach again, eyes tightly shut. “I’m afraid your family isn’t exactly the epitome of human normalcy.”

“Yeah, but Loki, was he right?”

“That I’m scared?” He trails his lips up your baby bump, over your chest and coming to rest firmly over your mouth. “My love…I am terrified.”

“Oh.”

Your arms wind around his neck and pull him back down to your lips—maybe if you keep kissing him, he won’t be able to see the disappointment in your eyes.

It works for a little bit, and you nearly lose yourself completely when he starts gently nipping at your lips and moving to tend to your neck; he’s making you drunk on him with the flip of a switch.

It’s too easy for him.

“Loki.” Your hands curl tighter in his hair.

“Hmm.”

“Then why did you tell me you wanted another kid?”

The god pauses, moving from your collarbone back to your face to frown down at you. His fingers are cold along your jaw. “Because I do want another kid.”

“But you’re terrified.”

“And you’re not?”

That makes your mouth snap shut, eyes darting around the room to avoid his piercing gaze. Of course you’re nervous, it’s not like you have any better ideas of how to raise a child—and you’re the one carrying it, for god’s sake.

“I don’t think I need to say more.” Loki smiles, soft and edging closer to the sad end of the spectrum. “I’m always scared. Of you, of my son…and now my second child.”

You still can’t look at him. Shame, maybe.

“I’m terrified of you, did you know that?” He’s kissing you again, lazy lips soft along the outline of your own, up and down your jaw. “Terrified of you, our future, our children. I could lose you in seconds.”

“That’s optimistic.” You try for a cracked smile.

Cool lips meet yours, firm as his hand traces over your baby bump. “It’s realistic, actually. Keeps me honest with myself.”

“We’re not leaving you, if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“But I don’t deserve for you to stay.”

Here we go again.

“Why do you always do this??” You force a playful smile onto your face and sit up, a hand on Loki’s chest pushing him off of you onto the bed. “There you go hating yourself again, sheesh.”

Grateful for the change in subject, you roll over halfway on top of him and mold your lips to his—his, parted slightly in surprise. Your hands cradle his face, stroking through his hair and over his cheekbones as you pour every ounce of adoration you possess for him into the kiss.

Then it really clicks, just how much you missed him.

Maybe that’s why you feel this…disconnect.

Within seconds his shirt is off too, your hands scouring every inch of his skin you can reach, Loki’s breathing becoming shallower as he fumbles with belts and tries to hold your face to his at the same time.

“Missed you,” he whispers hoarsely, giving up on the belt and falling into you, shaking hands holding your neck and waist in a death grip. “My family, I missed you both, and this new one—”

His voice cracks and he moves down, littering every inch of you with kisses that come to rest on the swell of your stomach as his hands hold tight to your hips.

“I’m beyond excited.” It’s nothing more than a whisper. “Terrified, scared out of my mind, but I am so, so happy our family is growing.”

“You sure?” You tangle your fingers in his hair and tip his head up to smile down at him.

“Do I need to prove it?”

God, you missed him.

You grab hold of his face and pull him up, smashing your lips to his.  “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

So he does.

At least, he tries, until a yell for dad echoes down the hall.

“Good to see nothing has changed,” Loki sighs, pressing one last kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t you go anywhere, we’re not done here.”

You throw a pillow at him with a laugh as he winks and slips out the door.

Elliot is awake, as expected, sitting in his bed clutching the blankets to his chest, a strangely bright smile on his little face. “Hey dad!”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Hey…”

“You awake?”

“I am now, clearly.” He sits on the edge of the bed and plants a kiss on the top of Elliot’s head. “Why did you call for me?”

The little boy shrugs. “Just wonderin’.”

“…if I was awake?”

“Yup.”

They stare at each other for a second—

—Loki confused and battling with the fact that he just had to leave you on the bed to come take care of this kid, and Elliot scrunching his nose up in the biggest grin at his dad, just happy to see him.

“I’m…going to go back to bed now.” Loki points at the door, giving his son a strange look. “Unless you have literally anything else to tell me? Redeem my coming in here?”

“Nope!” Elliot throws his arms out in a request for a hug.

…that Loki all too happily delivers.

“Oh! Did mom tell you the secret yet?” He whispers, squeezing Loki tighter with arms thrown around his neck.

“She did,” Loki chuckles. “Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait! We’re gonna be bestest friends and I’m naming it Blueberry cause I love blueberries and I love my baby so I’m gonna—”

“Blueberry??”

“Yeah!”

Loki shakes his head with a laugh. “Blueberry Lokason. A name for the ages, without a doubt.”

Elliot beams at his father’s approval and Loki ruffles a hand through his curly hair. “Come on, go to sleep. You shouldn’t be awake right now.”

“Well you guys woke me up…” he grumbles, flopping down on his pillow.

Not again. Loki freezes, face twisting in worry—you hadn’t even started. If that was too loud, then by the end of the night the whole neighbourhood is going to be awake. “Were we being too loud?”

“Nah.” A little smile spreads over the kid’s face. “Mom’s just happy, real happy, and it woke me up.”

“You…you can feel that?”

“Yup. Just like you.” He nuzzles deeper into his pillow. “Thought’ya might wanna know, dad, ‘case you forgot.”

With a face as precious as that, Loki doesn’t have the heart to tell him that’s not just like him…that’s not exactly how his access to the mind works, but the last thing Elliot needs is another reason to believe he’s unusual.

“In case I forgot what, Elliot?” He smiles and kisses the boy’s forehead, running a hand through his hair.

“How to tell when mom’s happy!” He opens his eyes and rolls onto his back, grinning up at Loki. “I almost forgotted too, she’s been sad so long. S’why I woke up!”

“Well.” Loki’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “Thank you. I think I remember now.”

“I gotcha covered, daddy.”

“Go to sleep, little giant.”

* * * * * * * *

The walk down the hall back to the room leaves Loki wondering.

He…felt it.

The kid could tell you were pregnant before you even knew, he could tell that you were nervous to tell Loki, he knew that Loki was scared before he’d admitted it to you…now he felt that you were happy? Strong enough to wake him up?

Apparently Elliot can do a lot more than just turn blue.

The thought of that is terrifying.

All Loki can think of as his hand rests hesitantly on the doorknob is what he’s done. What he’s passed on to this child, unwillingly taking another life down with his own curses.

Elliot’s life is going to be full of pain, if this is what he is capable of. It’s bad enough that he has no control over the shifting of his skin, no thanks to the fruitless attempts Loki has made to figure out how to help him, but now…

Loki starts when you open the door.

“What’d he need?”

You’re smiling—happy, Loki can tell this time. He silently thanks Elliot for the reminder.

“A hug.” He quickly smiles back. “Wanted to know if I was awake…the usual midnight Elliot inquiries.”

“Can I get one?”

You hold your arms out and grin, giddy and irresistibly bright, and Loki steps forward to sweep you into his arms.

“I’ll give you a bit extra, too,” he chuckles, peppering your neck with light kisses as he walks you backward towards the bed. Your knees hit the edge and you fall onto the mattress, grabbing him behind the neck to bring him down with you.

An arm by your head to keep him hovering over you, Loki pauses, just smiling down at you as a few lingering laughs leave your lips.

“Are you happy, my love?”

Cold fingers run down your cheek and he leans down, brushing his lips against yours.

“Of course I am,” you mumble, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him close. “You’re home, I’ve got the best little kid sleeping down the hall, and we’ve got another one on the way.” Another peck on the lips. “I’m way past happy, snowflake.”

“Good,” he whispers, and decides that’s going to be enough for him.

That’ll be enough for all four of you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen  @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @vast-ish @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @little-scintilla @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective

[all-the-love-harold]

Chapter 4 - Just Trying to Remember How it Feels to Have a Heartbeat

Master Post 

 *You might need some tissues for this one* 

January 21st 2020 - 6 weeks 

Poppy lay on her back on the examination table in her OB’s office, her heart pounding faster than it ever had before. Harry sat her to her, his hands holding on tightly to hers, just as nervous as she was. “The Styles are back!” Julie, the same midwife they had with Oli, said as she walked into the room . Harry and Poppy smiled weakly through their nerves. Julie sat down on the stool next to Poppy “How are we feeling dear? You look nervous..”

She let out a breathy laugh, “That obvious is it?” 

“Well, yes but  I don’t want you to be OK?  You’re  only 6 weeks along, so  I doubt we’ll be able to hear a heartbeat -  this machine’s not that good, but we’ll be able to see it and make sure that baby is doing what they should be for now. ”Poppy nodded and squeezed Harry’s hand. He kissed her forehead gently, sending up a silent prayer that everything would be alright.

“Alright”, Julie smiled at the tender moment between the couple, “Let’s get started, shall we?” 

She turned on the machine and slipped on a pair of gloves. This was going to be an internal ultrasound, which meant that when Julie had everything ready, Poppy put her legs up in the stirrups and Harry held onto her hand even tighter than he had been before. It was uncomfortable but not painful, just like having a pap smear.

 Minutes passed and Julie didn’t say a word. The room  rang with an eerie silence. The only sound was that of Julie pressing buttons on the machine. “Is everything OK?” Harry broke the silence, only daring to whisper lest speaking any louder shatter the slipping illusion that there was nothing to worry about and their baby was healthy.

“You said you were six weeks?” Julie asked Poppy, studiously ignoring Harry’s question. “Just over,” Poppy nodded, wishing away the sudden burning of tears behind her eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say. It. Don’t say it. Please. Julie turned away from the screen, letting out a soft breath. “Baby’s a bit smaller than we’d expect,” she turned to the screen and pointed to a tiny white splodge to the right of the screen. “This is your baby here, by this stage we should be able to make out the vague shape, it usually looks a little like a peanut.” 

Poppy’s eyes lost focus and she tuned out of the conversation. All she could think about was the walls. How they were closing in on her. They were so white. She’d never noticed before but it made the room dull. There was no character to it. The room was lifeless. “...I’m so sorry Poppy. But your baby doesn’t have a heartbeat.” Julie put  her hand on Poppy’s shoulder, “I’ll give you two a moment and I’ll bring Dr Marshall back to discuss what happens next.” She turned and walked out of the room. Tears were already streaming down Harry’s cheeks but as soon as the door closed, he stood and helped Poppy to sit up so that she could bury her head in his chest. Right then, her whole body crumbled into a thousand tiny pieces, only held together by Harry’s arms. She sobbed. Louder than she thought possible and eventually when there were no more tears left in her eyes, she lifted her head away from Harry’s chest and whispered 

“I’m sorry, H.” ”He shook his head, before the words were even fully out of her mouth,  “You have nothing to be sorry for Pop. We can try again,” he placed a kiss on her forehead. “But not until you’re ready” 

A knock came on the door and Dr Marshall walked into the room, a sympathetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry,” she said, putting her hand on Poppy’s shoulder, just like Julie had “This is the conversation I’m sure you’ve been dreading, but I want you to know what’s going to happen to your body now…”

Poppy was numb and she could only just focus on what her doctor was saying. “In the next few days, you’ll start bleeding and you’ll experience pain similar to early labour pains. The best case scenario is that you pass the fetus, but it’s not uncommon to need a little help. We’ll make you an appointment for three weeks from now to make sure everything’s all clear. After that you can start trying again.” She was robotic in the way she was talking, just reciting the facts. Detached. Poppy guessed that she had to be if this was a conversation that she had almost daily and wanted her heart to still be intact at the end of it.“I’ll put you in contact with our counsellors too. This isn’t an easy time for either of you, and if you have any questions just give us a call.” 

Harry and Poppy both nodded unable to form words. “You can stay here for as long as you need. Take your time,” she smiled sympathetically and walked out of the room. 

“I’ll call Jeff when we get home” Harry said after a few minutes of silence ‘Cancel the next few weeks of promo.” Poppy wanted to say no. She didn’t want him to disappoint millions of people. But she needed Harry to stay with her. To make everything ok again. 

“Thank you, she whispered. He kissed her hand “Should we go home?” “Yeah,” she nodded and swung her legs off table slowly. “Can you pass my pants?” 

Harry let out a soft giggle “You might need those,” he grabbed them off the stool and handed them to her. Poppy got dressed and they left the room, hand in hand, trying to hide the tears. Both of them stayed silent. Harry didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t help but think that this was all his fault, that if he didn’t want to have a baby of his own than they wouldn’t be here right now. 

“What do you want to do Pop?” Harry asked, closing the door to the car behind him.

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you want me to take you straight home? Do you want to go and pick Oli up?” 

Poppy stared blankly out the window and rested her head on her hand “I don’t want to see anyone H. I don’t want to have to tell anyone.” 

“OK,” he nodded. “That’s OK, Pop. I’ll text Gem and I’ll go pick him up before dinner time.” 

“Thank you,” Poppy continued looking out the window. 

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and sent Gemma a message. “Baby has no heartbeat. Can you have Oli for a few more hours?” 

“I’m so sorry H. I can have him for as long as you need. Call me if I can do anything xx” 

***

The house was cold and dark as they walked in, but Poppy didn’t really care. Her whole body was numb, she knew that Harry’s hand was on her shoulder because she could see it, but she couldn’t feel it. 

“Where do you want to go Pop?” Harry asked, voice laced with both sadness and concern 

He was met with silence, Poppy didn’t know where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do, all she knew was that she’d lost her baby and she wanted it back. “Let’s go into the kitchen, I’ll make us some tea,” Harry sighed. 

He led the way, never letting go of Poppy’s hand. They both knew that this probably going to happen, but they weren’t prepared for how they would feel when it did. 

The kettle boiled in a room filled with silence. Neither Harry or Poppy really knew what to say next. How could they say anything really? Just as the water was boiled, Poppy’s phone started to ring obnoxiously from her bag. It was Addie, who had been out at job interviews all morning and probably wanted to know how the scan went. Poppy didn’t know if she should answer, she didn’t know if she’d be able to say anything if she did. Harry took the hint from Poppy’s blank stares at her phone and picked it up himself, walking away from the kitchen as he did. 

“Hi Addie,” He said into the phone in a hushed tone

“Oh, she said at the other end. “Hi Harry, where’s Poppy? Is everything OK?” 

“She’s in the kitchen”, Harry took a deep breath “We lost the baby” his voice broke as the words came out of his mouth and he tried to hold back the tears. 

Addie was stunned, she didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry” was all that she could manage 

“Me too,” Harry responded. “Everything OK with you?” he asked changing the subject in the hopes that he wouldn’t start crying. “I was just going to ask which tube to get on to get home again, but if you guys need some time, I can stay out a little longer...” 

“No, no, you can come home whenever you like Addie, do you want a lift?” 

“I can get on a train,” Addie said sympathetically, “I just don’t know which one.”

“I’m afraid I’m not much help there, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the tube.” 

“That’s why I called Poppy” Addie laughed nervously. “I’ll go ask her.”

“Thanks,” Addie said “Can I get anything while I’m out? Dinner maybe?” 

Harry thought for a moment. “You could get Oli for us?” he asked on a whim, desperate to be off the phone and be with Poppy again. 

“Um, yeah” Addie hesitated a little. “Yeah… I could do that. He’s at Gemma’s right?”

“Yeah. Gem already knows what's going on, I’ll send her a message to let her know you’re coming.” 

“Thanks, and I know how to get there, so no need to bother Pop about it. Give her a hug for me will you?” 

“Of course” Harry nodded 

“I’ll spend some time with Gems and then come home, give you guys some time.” 

“Thanks Addie, I’ll see you later” 

Harry returned to the kitchen to find Poppy crying over her cup of tea. He didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything that he could say. He simply wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. Each sob ripped his heart in two. How is it that a few hours ago they were filled with joy and hope and now they were broken people that would never be the same again? They stood there for what felt like hours, neither of them said a word, and neither of them tried to break the hug. They just stood, until Poppy couldn’t anymore. 

*** 

The next few days were the worst of Poppy’s life. The bleeding started two days after their appointment and the pain that came with it  was worse than she had expected. She couldn’t get out of bed and she didn’t want to either. She could be alone with her grief there. Everyone around them was doing their best to help out. Addie stepped up and took care of Oli, Gemma brought meals over for them and Anne made the trip back down to London to be there with them. And as much as she appreciated all the support, Poppy found it a little overwhelming. 

The strange thing about the whole experience was how much Poppy wanted her mum through it all. Anne, who had been a mother to Poppy since she moved to London seven years ago, was by her side like she always had been, but it just wasn’t the same. Addie was the only one that really understood how Poppy was feeling in that regard. 

They were sitting together in the garden one day when that became clear to Poppy.“I know she’s awful and everything,” Addie said breaking the silence as Poppy sipped her tea “But I really miss Mum,” she sighed .

“Me too,” Poppy added. “I thought I’d never say that again after what happened at Christmas but after losing the baby I kinda get it.”

“Get what?” Addie asked curiously

“Mum,” Poppy said simply “all of her kids just up and left as soon as they could and now she’s left with nothing and I know that doesn’t make her behaviour ok, but I kinda feel for her.”

“We all feel for her, and I miss her like crazy but that doesn’t make me want to go back there!”

“I always thought I would when I had kids,” Poppy said truthfully “But when I found out I was having Ol,i the first thing I wanted to do was make London a home for him but when I found out that I lost this little one, she was the first person I wanted to tell…”

“She’s the first person I want to tell everything” Addie sighed “But she never reacts the way I expect her to and we just get mad at each other”

“That’s why I moved, we used to fight all the time and not over stupid things that most mothers fight with their daughters about, but things that she shouldn’t have been mad about, like me leaving the house” 

“I remember how mad she was when you left” Addie said “she barely said a word to anyone for weeks without snapping”

“I haven’t told her about the miscarriage” Poppy said softly “She’ll probably try and blame me for it” 

“You know it’s not your fault right?” Addie put her hand on Poppy’s knee as she spoke 

“I do” Poppy nodded, staring blankly into space “But sometimes it feels like it. Like if my uterus was the right size and shape it wouldn’t have happened” 

“People with perfectly normal uteruses have miscarriages all the time Pop”

“I know, it’s just one of those things, I can’t help but blame myself” 

“If anything, it’s Mum’s fault” Addie said lightly trying to change the tone of the conversation “For giving birth to you with a weird uterus” 

Poppy giggled “Yeah” she sighed “Let’s go with that”

“Is it bad that I don’t really want to speak to her again?” Addie asked, changing the tone of the conversation once again 

“No” Poppy shook her head, “I don’t either, neither does Kai”

“Kai hasn’t for years” Addie admitted 

“Since he met Liv, and Mum got jealous” 

“There seems to be a running theme here” 

Poppy nodded “This might sound horrible, but for Oli and any other kids that I might have, I don’t want her around, I don’t want them to feel that resentment that she has for them”

“Oli has Anne, who he adores, he’ll be more than fine without mum” 

“I know” Poppy sighed “We’re lucky to have Anne” 

***

January 27th, 2020 

The Baby was gone and Poppy was numb. She didn’t know that she would ever feel the same again but as much as she wanted the world to stop for her to grieve, it didn’t, life went on like normal. Like the baby was never there. But her body kept reminding her that it was. She was still bleeding and cramping but getting on with her life as if nothing ever happened. 

It was a Monday morning and her alarm went off at 6am, like it always did, despite the fact that she’s been lying awake for the last two hours thinking about what today was going to bring. She turned the alarm off quickly so that it didn’t wake Harry and rolled out of bed onto her feet. The cold January air hit her like a tonne of bricks as she made her way to the bathroom where she quickly turned to hot water in the shower on so it could warm while she undressed. She stepped into the shower, letting the water wash over her, warming her from the outside in. Her eyes closed and she was met with the image of the ultrasound, the one that should have shown their baby for the first time, but instead showed an almost empty uterus. No baby. No heartbeat. 

A knock on the door followed by Harry’s voice brought Poppy back to reality 

“Can I come in Pop?” he asked, already opening the door

“Yeah” she responded softly as she searched for her shampoo bottle 

“Morning” He half smiled as he walked in “Everything ok? You’ve been in here for a while?”

Poppy nodded “Just thinking about the baby” 

Harry ran his fingers through his hair “We’ll be able to try again soon,” he sighed “I know that doesn’t make it better though”

Poppy shook her head and stared straight at the wall. She knew if she looked at Harry she’d start crying and she didn’t want to do that. Especially not today. 

“Anyway” she said wiping her eyes and turning towards him “Today’s about Oli - and you” 

A smile appeared on Harry’s face “It is” he nodded “On that note, we’re running late, you mind if I jump in?” 

“Of course not” she said “You don’t really have to ask you know” 

Harry stripped his boxers off and in one swift motion threw them into the laundry hamper and hopped into the shower. Poppy took a step to the side so that Harry could stand under the flow of water. 

“You know I feel guilty about being excited for today” he admitted, tipping his head under the water, letting it wash down his back 

“Why?” Poppy said, pointing to the shampoo bottle that sat on the shower caddy just above his shoulder 

Harry grabbed it and handed it to her “Because we just lost the baby and it feels wrong to be excited to be a dad to a kid that’s been mine since the day he was born” 

“Miscarrainge sucks” Poppy said, massaging the shampoo into her scalp “But we get to be a family today, offically, and you’re allowed to be excited for that -conditioner- ” she pointed to the bottle next to the shampoo “I know I am”

Harry picked up the body wash and squirted it onto the loofah, sighing a little, “I’m excited, I just feel like there’s something missing” 

Poppy nodded, pushing Harry gently out of the flow of water so that she could wash the conditioner out of her hair “Maybe the miscarriage was my body telling me that this isn’t the rigt time, you’re going on tour for six months, I would have given birth while you were away”

“I would have made sure I was here for that” he admitted, although he hadn’t thought about he would have kept that promise. 

Poppy placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder “We’ll get a baby when the timing’s right H, today let’s just think about Oli, yeah?” 

“I want to take him out for ice cream after” Harry smiled, turning the water off 

“He’d like that” Poppy stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around herself, handing the other one to Harry as she began drying herself off. 

“Can I get him up this morning?” Harry said, strolling into their bedroom to find some clothes to put on. Poppy followed, taking a swift turn into her wardrobe. 

“Yeah” she called “I’ll make breakfast, what do you want?” 

“I’ll have what Oli’s having” 

“Porridge it is then” Poppy pulled her shirt over her head and tucked it into her business pants. She wanted to look professional, but not too professional. They were signing the papers that would make Harry’s adoption of Oli official. Since Danny hadn’t attempted to make any contact with them in the month since Oli turned two, the courts were happy to approve the adoption and finally make them a family and Poppy wanted to look the part. And so did Harry. Instead of going for usual high waisted pants and vintage t-shirt, he decided on a slim fitted trouser and knitted sweater. 

“Do I look like a Dad?” he asked Poppy as she walked out of her wardrobe 

“Yes” she giggled “You just need a puffer jacket and a coffee you’ll look like you’re ready for the school run with four kids”

“Perfect” he grinned, placing a kiss on Poppy’s forehead “You look stunning” he said before turning and leaving the room. It was even colder in the hallway than it had been in their bedroom and Harry made a mental note to himself to call the heating guy to get it fixed. But that was a problem for later. He twisted the handle on Oli’s bedroom door and found him still fast asleep in his big boy bed. 

“Oli” he whispered, “Oli it’s time to wake up” 

His eyes fluttered, but they weren't open yet. Harry sat down on the bed next to him and started to rub his back. 

“Mummy’s making you some porridge my little dude, how about we hop up and go toilet while we wait” 

Oli shook his head “No wees” he said, voice still laced with sleep 

“How about a cuddle and then wees?” Harry asked, opening his arms. 

Oli nodded and sat up, nestling himself in Harry’s chest and rubbing his eyes. Harry’s heart swelled. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be a part of this little boys life in the way that he was and he couldn’t believe that the day had come when he got to officially be his dad. 

“Wees”Oli said, quickly breaking the hug and getting out of bed to run to the toilet. He was still potty training and wearing a night time nappy, but he was getting really good at going when he needed to. While he was in the bathroom, Harry picked out his clothes for the day, choosing a pair of jeans (with leggings underneath for warmth) a navy blue jumper with rainbows and a grey beanie with a navy bobble. 

“We’re putting your fancy pants on today my man” Harry said, holding the jeans up as oli walked back in the room, holding his pull up in his hand. 

“It’s dry dad” Oli handed him the nappy 

An excited expression appeared on Harry’s face “Good Job buddy!” he exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high five “four more of those and you won’t have to wear them to bed any more” 

Oli started jumping up and down with excitement “No more pullups!” he shouted. 

Harry laughed “Alright Ol, we’re going to be late if we don’t get these fancy pants on you soon” 

Oli got dressed as fast as he could with Harry’s help, even though he kept saying he didn’t need it. He even put his shoes on himself, Harry just didn’t have the heart to tell him they were on the wrong feet

“We’ll leave that one for Mummy” he whispered to himself as they walked out of the room. 

***

Nothing about a Lawyer’s office was fun, there wasn’t a single children’s toy in sight and Oli sighed in boredom while his parents talked to the man in the boring black suit behind the desk. He didn’t really know what they were talking about, there was a lot of mention of a man named Daniel Watts, but he didn’t know who that was. He didn’t sound very kind though.  Oli thought his parents looked really happy, which made him happy too, but again, he couldn’t really work out why sitting in this boring old office was making them smile like they were. He remembered that his dad had said something about ice cream in the car on the way here, but this didn’t look like an icecream shop. 

“If you just sign here, the whole thing will be over and you’ll be Oli’s dad” the boring man handed Harry a pen and an official looking form. 

“So Daniel won’t have any parental right after this?” Poppy asked whole Harry signed the form 

“No” the boring man shook his head “No he failed to contact the courts prior to Oliver’s second birthday, therefore forfeiting any parental rights” 

“What happens if he does contact the courts, or us?”  Harry handed the paper back to the lawyer 

“If he contacts you, you can take out a restraining order and if he contacts the courts, they will handle it”

“Good” They both nodded 

“Right, Mrs Styles, as his mother, I need you to sign here, saying that you believe your husband to be a fit parent”

Poppy took the pen and signed along the dotted line, heart beating out of her chest, in a good way. As the pen met the paper she couldn’t help but notice how ugly her signature was, which she knew was a weird thing to be thinking about in this moment. 

“Done” the lawyer said when she was finished “It’s official, you’re a family!” 

Harry stood up and shook the lawyers hand “Thank you” he said before turning to Poppy and wrapping his arms around her. 

“We did it Pop” he kissed her cheek and broke the hug so that he could pick Oli up. 

“You’re all mine now buddy” 

Oli still didn’t know what he meant by that, Harry had always been his dad, but he could tell that he was happy so he wrapped his arms around his neck and snuggled in. 

“Let’s go get some ice cream buddy” 

“Ice Cream!” Oli exclaimed.

[pa-tr0-clus-backup]

This is just gonna be a rant/train of thought/absolute mess cause idk what I’m doing but like yeah so as with all my personal posts if anyone sees this then please just ignore it lol sorry I’m so annoying but I just like typing things and then sending them into the void so y’know

Basically my mental health has been getting worse and worse for a while which isn’t surprising since it’s always bad but gets worse 1) when New Things are happening and 2) during winter and I just started uni this year and it’s fucking dark at 4pm now everyday. But yeah so I’ve been self-harming and having suicidal thoughts for six years now. I’ve attempted suicide once and planned/prepared to kill myself at least three times by now. It’s not great in my head honestly and it hasn’t been for many years.

I’ve tried to get help twice. The first time I was thirteen and told my parents/school/GP and... none of them did anything. They all just thought I was attention seeking and would stop on my own if they didn’t ‘indulge me’. I wasn’t diagnosed with anything or referred for therapy or meds or anything. They ignored it and surprise surprise it didn’t fucking stop. They just didn’t know about it anymore.

The second time I tried to get help I was seventeen and I referred myself to the school counsellor. They were a counsellor in training from the local college and quite frankly absolute shit. I felt worse and worse after each session and honestly felt relieved when the 6 sessions I was allotted were over.

Part of the issue is I have been struggling for so long that 1) I don’t know who I am if I’m not feeling Like This and 2) Ive had such bad experiences with trying to get help I can’t bring myself to try again. What’s got me thinking about all this again is the fact that the newest development in my shitty shitty mental health is an eating disorder. Now again, I’m not diagnosed with anything, but after months of consideration I can tentatively consider that eating 500 calories a day for months on end and feeling fat and sick after eating literally anything and refusing to drink any water for several consecutive days so I don’t gain ‘water weight’ may possibly be indicators of an eating disorder.

I still feel bad saying anything since I’m so terrified of self-diagnosing and being told I’m just attention seeking again which is why even after all this time it’s so damn hard to admit that I’m probably depressed. I can work with tangible things that I know for a fact such as that at this point I cut myself almost every day, and I can sleep for 12 hours a night and still feel exhausted in my bones, and that I hate my body so damn much that I have to shower with my eyes closed or end up clawing at my skin, and that I spend hours and hours obsessing over the thought of killing myself and planning how to do it and going as far as to stockpile pills so I could overdose, only being stopped by the fact that when I googled to see if I had enough to kill me I found out that it would’ve taken several days to actually end things so that ruled overdose out. And I live in a city so that ruled jumping off a bridge out since I’d definitely be caught. I don’t know what to do anymore.

Another part of the issue is The Trans™️Thing™️. Because yes a lot of my issues stem from my crippling dysphoria. And that’s not a thing I can change. My family is transphobic so I can’t come out. I can’t transition. I’m going to be stuck in this goddman fucking body til the day I die. And I can’t fucking cope with that. And I haven’t been coping with that for a very, very, very long time.

Therapy can’t help me. I already know the ins and outs of why I feel so shit all the time. No amount of bloody alternative thinking can change things. Which only leaves medication which my parents have expressely forbidden me to take. Any medication. Literally. Any. Yes including birth control. No they are not religious, just fucking crazy and think that any issue I have (including any colds/flu/normal illness) are just me exaggerating and will get better by themselves (reason why I had a veruca for four years even though they are very easily treatable).

And yes I’m nineteen now and don’t need parental permission for my health care but they also search through all my stuff in my room whenever I’m not there and I can’t just,, not take meds home during uni breaks since that would probably fuck me up even more. But also yeah I’m a nineteen year old guy not a thirteen year old girl anymore. Honestly I feel embarrassed that it’s gone on this long. All my high school friends got better, so why can’t I?

But yeah so why should I stay alive? What’s the fucking point? My issues are going to be with my til the day I fucking die whether that’s by my own hand or something else. This isn’t a short term issue that can be fixed this is it for me. This is my lot in life and I’m absolutely fucking sick of it. So why can’t I just die?