#its been months and months that ive needed to clear out my room to paint

[naughtynanzhu]

I can't do a single fucking chore man I'm so fucking useless I wish I was dead LMAOOOOO

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Dominante Imp S/O x Millie & Moxxie.

Meeting the boss.

(This is a continuation of my previous dominant imp x M&M.)

In the five or so months you'd been together youd gotten a very mixed idea of who there boss was. Millie painted him as a lovable goof who would push boundaries on the regular.

Moxxie on the other hand, spoke as though he was a pervert Stalker who had it out for him.

Of course you challenged both of them, asked where he'd been for the last five months of he were a stalker and why Moxxie hated him so much if he were a harmless goofball.

Moxxie tells you Blitzø had been unusually busy as of late, with both work and Stolas.

Which was lucky, because Moxxie wasn't sure how you'd react if you found a strange Imp in the apartment.

So instead they decide it would be better if you met him properly, instead of finding him hiding in your fridge.

So the next day they bring you along to the I.M.P offices. Both Millie and Moxxie had mixed feelings about this meeting.

They weren't sure how Blitzø would react, and then they weren't sure how you'd react to his reaction.

Making it to the office, the two gave you a series of warnings about how to approach the subject.

You dismissed there concerns, I mean you could easily take on six sinners at once without breaking a sweat. If Blitzø wanted to dance, youd dance.

So entering the office, you were met with the young hellhound'et that you instantly realised was the source of so much of Mixxie stress.

You swallowed a scowl before going up to greet her. 'You must be Loona. I've heard... a lot about you.'

Loona barely gave you a glance before going back to her phone. Millie came up besides you and asked if Blitzø was in yet.

Loona just gave a lazy nod towards a door to her right.

Millie thanked the hellhound before giving you a kiss and going to find him.

That seemed to get Loona's attention, looking at you she raised an eyebrow.

'Wondering what that was?' You asked nonchalantly. Loona glanced over the Moxxie and smirked. 'Oh yeah.'

Turning to her you smiled back, 'Well im not one to kiss and tell, but basically, for the past five or so months I've been the third partner in our little party.'

'No. Fucking. Way.' She said incredulously before bursting into laughter. 'So Moxxie really is a cuck.'

You instantly soured at her words before slaming your hands on her desk. 'Lets get something clear, young lady. Me, Moxxie and Millie are a couple, eh, I mean triad. We are in a relationship, alright.'

Reaching into your coat you pulled out a long yellow envelope. 'Simply put, I'm going to be around frequently as of starting immediately. And from what I've heard you relish in making the lifes of others as hard as possible.' You waited a moment for Loonas reaching. The hellhound just kind of nodding her head.

'So in order to keep our relationship civil, I'm going to bribe you.' Loona perked up at that. 'Bribe me with what?' She asked, eyebrow raised.

'This' you told her, handing over the envelope.

Taking the envelope, she pulled out two pieces of paper. Her eyes bulged 'Holy shit are these-'

'F#ck you dad, tickets? Yes.' You cut in, Snatching them out of her hands. Twirling them around your fingers you told her 'Not just tickets, VIP tickets.' You held the tickest up, showing the Gold film over them.

The feminine hellhounds eyes growing to animated proportions.

'I was gonna take the pair out, but couldn't find an extra ticket. So there all yours. IF. You play nice. Do we have a deal?'

Loona thought for a long minute before reply. 'Fine. I'll try to play nice.'

'You do more then try.' You told her as you handed her the tickets.

Just as you let them go, the door to your left burst open.

'Alright where is this guy' the imp that you could only assume was Blitzø.

You stepped forward, Blitzø's attention falling on you. 'Okay, so Millie here says she wants to introduce me to someone important and I'm guessing that's you.'

Sticking your hand out you told him 'Yes I believe so. You must be Blitzø, ive heard... Interesting things about you.'

Blitzø took your hand, giving it a hearty shake. 'Well im a pretty interesting guy.'

You chuckled at that, before Millie came up behind you and wrapped her arms around your chest.

Going ridged you were about to turn around and ask what Millie was doing, when you felt someone grab your hand.

Looking to your right you found Moxxie holding your hand, an innocent little smile across his face.

You were about to ask him what he's doing when it strikes you. Looking over to Millie, you find her wearing a devious little smile. Looking back Moxxie you find him wearing a similar, if not slightly more anxious smile.

'Oh you little bastards, didn't want to make it too easy for me aye?' Millie whispered back in that sexy southern drawl, 'Nope.'

Chuckling you tell them 'You are gonna pay for this tonight.'

Looking back to Blitzø, I find a very confused Imp staring at me. 'Whats going on?' He asked, obviously suspicious.

'W-well, you see. For the last five months or so Me, Millie and Moxxie have kinda... sorta... been in a relationship.'

You leaned back a little, waiting for his reaction. It takes a minute before he screams 'What!'

You pull back, putting yourself between Blitzø and the pair.

Shrugged of the pairs touch, you repeated yourself. 'Me and your two employees are in a relationship.'

Blitzø balled his fists before slaming them the table. 'For fucks sake!' He screamed. 'Three years and this fucker lives out my fantasy.'

You look at the Imp unsure how to respond, but before you could you heard Moxxie speak up. 'Fantasy?' He asked behind you.

Blitzø chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Well I mean, surely it's not a secret I've kinda had a thing for you guys for a while.'

'Eww' Loona muttered, looking up from her phone.

Turning around you were quickly pulled forward, Blitzø wrapping his arm around your neck.

'So tell me, Uuh, what was your name again?' He asked. '(Y/N)' you replied.

'Aah, yes of course. So (Y/N), tell me what's it like? ' you raised an eyebrow, unsure what he meant. 'What's what like?'

'You know, the two of them... in bed?' He wagged his eyebrows at the end. You instantly sobered up.

Pulling your arm off your shoulder you stepped away from him. 'Sorry buddy, but that's between me and the two of them.'

Blitzø blew it off, wrapping his arm around your shoulder again. 'Come on, just give me a few details. Tell me, Is Moxxie a total bottom or can he dom.'

At this point you were done with his antics and practically threw his arm off of you.

'Listen, I get it, Moxxie and Millie have both told me you don't really do "Boundries" but our relationship is just that, Ours. You wanna hang out at work or go out for drinks, no problem.'

You turned serious 'But in our home, unless your invited. I don't wanna see you there.'

Blitzø wore a smirk , a smirk Id seen a hundred times over. The cocky little shit was gonna test me.

'Really?' He asked, smirk growing. I chuckled back, 'Yeah, really.'

Turing to him you told him 'I get it, your a killer, assassin for hire i get really. You kill people for a living.' You slipped a hand into your pocket, 'But do you know what I do?'

Blitzø just shook his head. 'I'm a bouncer, ya know what that means.' You ask him.

'You bounce things?' He asked dripping with sarcasm. You gave a dry chuckle back before gripping the back of his neck.

'My job is to put smartasses like you in there place. There place being on the curb, missing a few teeth.'

Blitzø's smirk grew a little larger, a little anger in his eyes. And before you knew it, he swung at you. His left arm swung in a sloppy haymaker.

Of course you were to quick, and easily dodged it, only to return with a proper haymaker. Although your haymaker came with a shiny set of brass knuckles, courtesy of your right pocket.

Blitzø went down, with one punch, like a sack of rocks.

You stepped back, taking a look at the now unconscious Imp. You could see a large bruise beginning to form on the left side of his face.

Moxxie and Millie came up besides you, looking down at the Imp. 'Bout time someone knocked some sense into him.' Moxxie grumbled.

'Mox he's our boss!' Millie scolded her husband. 'No. He's right.' You cut in, 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes and your boss chose to play a very stupid game.'

It took about an hour before he woke up, still on the floor he released a long groan before sitting up.

You walked up to him, coffee in hand before squatting down and checking his cheek.

'Hey there champ, good nap?' You ask, feeling particularly smug.

Blitzø rubbed his face, groaning out 'You get the make and model on the that Truck that hit me.'

You chuckled, 'No I did not. But I'm sure it would be happy to come right on back, unless that is, you've learnt your lesson?'

Blitzø looked up at you, the implications of your words sinking in. His eyes shifted across the room, then onto you.

'Yeah' he said, nodding his head 'lesson learnt.' Handing him the coffee you helped him to his feet.

'Good boy.' You told him before calling Millie and Moxxie over.

Steering the two towards the door you turn to Blitzø and ask, 'Its alright if they take the day off, aye Boss?'

Blitzø just gave a weak little thumbs up before turning and heading for his office.

Turning back to the pair, you leaned into Moxxie's ear and whispered 'Now who do I need to punish for that little scheme back there.'

[meltwonu]

47. “Shut up.”

         “Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

39. “You taste like fucking candy.”

notes; AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES… lord i just love the idea of fucking an annoyed mingyu kdsjfhkds, cocky!mingyu, dirty talk, using panties as a gag, a little oral(fem receiving)/fingering, a little cum eating. Also forgive me bc im trying a different formatting of my drabbles and rly im just turning them into 1k-ish word fics?😭😭 I JUST CAN’T SHUT UP and these get so long so theyre not rly drabbles anymore sorry but also ive gotten so far without renaming the entire drabble game thing so… ye. Should i rename this drabble game? Or is it okay? Sorry that i cannot write short things…😭😩 should i include a word count?😅 I’m a mess and this is longer than 1k so the rest is under the cut!! Thank you for requesting!!! Enjoy!💕

“Fuck, Mingyu, you left your shit in the washing machine again! Can you just get your shit together so I don’t have to wait on you all the time!?”

You prop a hand on your hip, watching as the male raises a brow from his place on the sofa when he turns his attention to you.

“Why don’t you go clean the bowl you left in the sink then, huh? I can say the same thing!”

Your lips press into a firm line; annoyance clear on your features. “My one fuckin’ bowl isn’t deterring you from using the sink but your shit in the washer is preventing me from washing my damn clothes!”

The tall male gets up from his spot on the sofa; annoyance obvious on his face as well. “You’re just so…”

“Just so what, Mingyu?”

He grits his teeth as he makes his way to leave and deal with the laundry. “Forget it.”

You watch as he moves his things to the dryer before shooting you a harsh stare and beelining straight for his room across the hallway.

You finally manage to put your things in the washer once Mingyu retreats to his bedroom and it beeps once when it finally finishes, 45 minutes later.

Except now Mingyu’s clothes are just sitting in the dryer.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you storm over to Mingyu’s bedroom, flinging the door open with the intent of giving him a piece of your mind again. 

“Mingyu, you fuckin’----”

“Fuck!”

Your eyes flit all across the tall male with his back against the headboard and  you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his large hand wrapped around his thick cock; throat going dry at the view. “Uh---”

“Don’t you fucking knock!?”

The words die on your tongue the longer you stand his doorway, and he, too, makes no effort to move from his place on his bed. “M--maybe if you fucking moved your shit from the dryer on t-time!” You retort; already losing the fight in your voice the longer your eyes fixate on the leaking tip of his cock.

Mingyu’s at a loss for words himself and he’s unsure of what to even do to make the situation less awkward.

But he will admit; your flustered expression might’ve made his cock twitch.

He clears his throat, “I don’t see you leaving. Finally owning up to the fact you wanna fuck me?” Mingyu grins; cockiness replacing the awkwardness he was feeling moments prior.

“Shut up.”

His grin falters momentarily before it’s back; his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

Mingyu is meticulous. You have to admit.

He cleans while he cooks and makes sure his utensils and prepping station are absolutely spotless before the meal is even done cooking.

He’s apparently also just as meticulous with his tongue when he eats you out; fingers knuckle deep and curling into your g-spot just as he uses the tip of his tongue to tease your clit for the umpteeth time. “Ngh, fuck---fuck you, Mingyu!” You lock your hands into his permed hair, tugging on it slightly when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

“God, fuck y-you!” You grind against his tongue and fingers as you get closer and closer to the verge of an orgasm.

Mingyu pulls away slightly, lips glistening and wet. “You taste like fucking candy. It’s a shock considering your sour nature.” He mutters quietly, only loud enough for you to catch it as the heat blooms on your cheeks. “Just shut up and eat me out.” You mumble back.

Scoffing, he thrusts his fingers into you harshly one more time. “I think you’ve had enough actually.” He wiggles his fingers inside of your wet cunt as you moan out. “It’s time for you to give me what I want too.”

He pulls his fingers out, popping them into his own mouth as he licks your wetness off of them. Your grip on his hair loosens as he starts to sit up between your legs; his long hair falling into his dark eyes when he looks down at you. “Get up, we’re switching places.”

“Fine.”

It takes you a second to maneuver around the tall male on his small bed; huffing when he lays down against the pillows. “I ate you out and fingered your ‘lil pussy so now you can ride my cock and pull some of the weight around here.” He snides.

A smirk paints its way onto his features as you clench your jaw and sit down onto his thighs. “You’re lucky I needed to get laid or I wouldn’t be this willing to ride your fuckin’ dick.”

“Oh please, you probably dream about my cock. I see you eyeing me when I’m just walkin’ around in my sweats. I bet I’m who you fantasize about when you’re getting off with that vibrator of yours. Which, by the way, is fuckin’ loud. I hope you realize I can hear it when I pass by your bedroom. You should really---mmph!”

You quickly stuff your soaked panties between his lips before he can say anything more; gritting your teeth. “You really need to shut up. You’re cuter with your mouth closed or eating me out.”

Mingyu wasn’t… technically wrong. You just didn’t want to hear it right now.

You quickly shimmy your body up until you can reach down and wrap a hand around his cock and Mingyu places his hands on your waist to steady you as you slowly start to sink down onto him. “O-oh, fuck…”

A garbled moan spills from your lips as you feel him filling you up inch by inch; already wanting to start a quick pace as you chase your own orgasm.

Mingyu groans from around the panties between his lips and he tosses his head back as your tight, warm walls clench around his cock.

He thought about you sometimes too. Not that he’d admit it either.

It takes a few tense seconds and a few stuttered breaths before you’re completely seated on his cock; the tip of it already curving into your g-spot as you give yourself a moment to adjust to his size. “Y’know, if you w-weren’t such a cocky son of a b-bitch, I wouldn’t be so, ah, opposed to fucking y-you… G-god, I’d probably even, ngh, d-date you..”

You slowly start to swivel your hips as you mewl; Mingyu’s cock fit inside your cunt so perfectly. “But all y-you do is, hah, c-complain about m-my messes when you’re m-messy too…”

Mingyu’s blunt nails dig into the skin of your naked waist as you alternate between bouncing in his lap and swiveling your hips. And in return, his harsh breaths are all you can hear as you fuck yourself on his cock. He knows he could easily flip you onto your back and fuck you into his bedsheets until all you knew was his name, but he plays nice for now and lets you have your fun while you could.

“What were you t-thinkin’ about, huh? Before I walked in h-here. Were you thinkin’ about, ah, me? Do I get you s-so heated that, mmh, you g-get hard? Are you t-that easy?” You shoot him a cocky grin of your own as you clench around his cock. He narrows his eyes at you before he plants his feet firmly onto the bed and bucks his hips up into you; effectively jostling you and making you bounce harder in his lap as he starts to fuck you.

A sharp whine escapes past your lips as he starts a quick pace and you're quick to meet his movements as you slam down onto his cock with each of his thrusts. The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you both unload all of the sexual tension that’d been brewing for the few months that you’d been roommates.

Your saccharine moans and whines mix in with Mingyu’s harsh breaths and muffled groans as you both feel yourselves inching closer and closer to the edge. He can already feel his cock twitching and he can already feel the way your walls tighten even more around his cock with each passing second.

You reach a hand between your body and his; fingertips on your swollen clit as you race towards your orgasm. “Fuck, I, ah, w-wanna cum…” You mumble.

Mingyu bites down onto the fabric in his mouth as he tosses his head back again, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat as he starts to feel his abdomen tightening with his impending orgasm.

And he doesn’t warn you when he cums, but you can feel his cock twitching and his cum filling you up as his thrusts lose their rhythm. You let out a choked moan at the feeling and you rub quicker circles on your clit as you throw yourself over the edge and into your orgasm as well.

Mingyu lets out a muffled groan as he feels your walls fluttering around him and for a moment, he tells himself he could get used to fucking you.

“Oh, g-god, you’re, ah, fu--fucking cumming so---so much inside of m-me…” Whimpering, you slam down onto his cock as you both ride out your high and Mingyu’s eyes fixate on the way his cock slides out of your wet pussy covered in his cum and your wetness.

Mingyu moves a hand from your waist to pluck the soaked material out of his mouth; tossing it to the side as he gently massages his jaw.

“Look at you, still fucking yourself on my cock. Want more already, huh?” He watches as you reach down and scoop up some of the cum that settled onto his skin, lips parted slightly as he lets out a soft moan. You continue to swivel your hips atop his lap, waiting until your orgasm completely ebbs off before you come to a full stop. 

You pop your wet digits into your mouth, keeping eye contact with him as he commits to memory the way you suck on your fingers and swallow down the cum. 

He grits his teeth as he watches you repeat the action. “Such a good girl cleaning up your mess, huh? That’d be a first for you, wouldn’t it?” His eyes twinkle with an almost evil glint when you finally pop the clean digits from between your lips and move to straddle his thighs again; this time, globs of cum dripping from your pussy as his cock slides from inside of you.

Images of you in different positions flit through Mingyu’s mind as he smiles.

“Say, do you really want to know what I was thinking about before you walked in?”

[aster-aspera]

It’s just my skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: loss of hearing

Pairings: (platonic) jonmartim

Warnings: claustrophobia, hospitals, hearing loss

Masterlist

If you liked it please reblog <3

The aftermath isn’t as quiet as Tim thought it would be.

Maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t dead even though he should be, maybe it’s the dreadful ringing in his ear, maybe it’s the way his chest is heaving in gasping breaths he can’t hear.

There’s a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his back and somewhere far above him he can feel the ground rumble and shift. He can’t even find it in himself to worry about the whole place coming down. He wasn't planning on making it out alive either way.

He thinks he floats in and out of consciousness for a bit. Time seems to wind and stretch and loop back, only the rubble on his back and the incessant ringing to keep him company.

Something shifts eventually, a change in the air at first, the darkness becoming just a bit softer, a bit less cloying.

And then there are hands and stretchers and needles and people pulling and prodding him and over it all is still that high pitched ringing, rising higher and higher into an impossible crescendo. He thinks they ask him things, he is sure he sees their lips moving and their expectant gazes. He thinks he tries to say something, but his lips feel awkward and unwieldy.

Everything goes dark after that. A cool blessed darkness where he just floats, no stone, no rubble, no dust, just peace.

He thinks about Danny for a while, and the ritual and the burning collapse of it all and the way Sasha smiled at him every morning when he came into the archives. Then he just sleeps.

He wakes up a bit more coherent the next time. The ringing isn’t gone yet, but at least his brain doesn’t feel like it’s through different planes of dimensions at a hundred kilometres per hour anymore. At least now he can breathe without the dust clogging his lungs.

He looks around the overbright hospital room, the disconnected monitor and the IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins. There’s a bouquet of orange flowers on the bedside table. Probably from Martin, he thinks bitterly. There’s no one else who would go through the trouble.

Martin walks into his room at some point and Tim wonders why he’s here and not hovering around Jon like some lost puppy. Maybe Jon didn’t make it out of the explosion.

Something sharp and painful shoots through Tim’s chest at the thought and he does his best not to examine it too closely.

He looks up at Martin, whose lips are moving as he fusses with the flowers on the little table. Tim stares up at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for sound to come through, waiting for that unbearable ringing to resolve itself into something he can understand.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t hear,” He says, his lips forming the words, his vocal cords vibrating, but no sound comes out, not to him at least. Martin looks up at him with concern, his mouth moving in shapes that should have been familiar, had they been accompanied by the right noises.

“I can’t hear,” Tim says again. And this time, it doesn’t come out half as controlled. He can feel something very close to panic crawling it’s way up his throat and he doesn’t quite manage to swallow it down.

Martin presumably says something else, before giving up and typing something on his phone, shoving it into Tim’s hands before stalking out of the room.

Getting a doctor, stay here

Well of course he’s going to stay here, does Martin really think he’s going to wander around London when he’s just survived an explosion? He isn’t Jon.

He waits impatiently in his bed, rubbing the uncomfortably thin hospital sheets between his fingers and trying to adjust the flat pillows so he can sit up.

Eventually the doctors come in and once again, it’s back to being poked and prodded. Doctors examining his ears and brain and all the million scans they take, with Martin occasionally coming in to hover over him, bringing along coffee from the cafeteria.

In the end, the verdict is predictable. Permanent damage from his proximity to the explosion. Figures he couldn’t just walk out of that unscathed.

And most people would probably consider being permanently deaf better than being dead. Tim wasn’t too sure he agreed with them  yet.

They let him go home eventually, with a whole laundry list of instructions on how to care for himself. Tim throws the papers into a corner as soon as he gets home. He’ll be fine, he’s survived Jane Prentiss, he can survive this. And it isn’t like it matters much.

His phone buzzes to life when he sticks it into the socket, all the messages he missed streaming in at once, a tidal wave of promotional mails and push notifications. He’s half tempted to just shut it off again when he notices one text notification between all the others.

Jon

Martin had told him he was alive, of course. But something about seeing his name displayed black on white on his phone screen drives the point home in a way Martin’s scribbled notes hadn’t done. Something sharp and hot shoots through his chest and he wants desperately for it to be that familiar anger that carried him through the last few months.

But as he lets his head fall back onto the couch, he can’t quite feel it burn the same, and without its familiar warmth, he feels hollow in a way he hasn’t since Danny died.

He swipes away the message without reading it and curls up on the couch, pulling an old, dusty blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. He tries not to think too much of the darkness after the explosion, of the plaster dust swirling through the air and settling in his lungs, of the stone crushing his limbs at awkward angles.

A dark apartment isn’t much like a collapsed building but his brain doesn’t care when it brings up vivid images of his time under the rubble. Despite it all, he does eventually drift into the comforting darkness of sleep, his slumber taking the pain and weariness out of his bones for just a moment.

It’s peaceful, till he wakes up gasping from a nightmare.

His desk rattles slightly when a heavy book is dropped on it and Tim looks up in annoyance, ignoring the painful squeezing in his chest when he meets Jon’s tired, regretful eyes.

‘Learning sign’ The book proclaims and Tim feels irritation bubbling up.

“Fuck off,” He says, focusing his attention once again on his desk.

‘I know sign, I can help, or at least recommend you some classes/books’ Jon informs him through the notes app on his phone.

“I don’t need your help.”

‘I know you don’t, but I’d like to'

“Why? So you can feel better about everything that happened? You think this is going to fix it?”

‘I’m sorry Tim’

“Sorry is too late,” he bites out, shoving out of his chair roughly. He tries to move past Jon, make it out of this stifling, dusty room, get somewhere it doesn’t feel like the walls are watching him.

A rough, calloused hand shoots out, wraps around his wrist like a vice. Jon’s eyes are dark with concern and Tim feels an odd anger at the expression. How can he show so much empathy after everything that happened?

He looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly, it’s all just too much.

The deafening ringing in his ears, this wretched place that trapped him and choked him and took his best friend from him. And Jon, eyes still hopeful, still compassionate, after Tim had blamed him and hurt him for months on end.

“Go away,” He tries to say and he doesn’t even make it to the first syllable before his voice betrays him with a choked sob. A shudder runs through him and he looks down at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself.

The grief has never felt as all consuming as it does in this moment and it chokes and burns and pulls him under all at once.

And then, there are arms around him. A familiar touch, a familiar weight, from days so long ago Tim can barely remember them. The first touch that isn’t hostile, the first comfort he has felt in so long.

And it’s all from the man he’s tried to hate for months.

His hands curl themselves tightly into Jon’s cardigan and he buries his face in his shoulder, biting back tears with all his might. It doesn’t do much good against the tidal wave of emotions sweeping through him and soon he’s shaking all over with the sobs that wrack through his body.

Jon’s hand comes up in a familiar movement, brushing through Tim’s messed up curls. It’s hesitant at first, as if Tim will yell at him again, but when he makes no motion to do so, only melting deeper into the hold, the fingers carding through his hair become surer.

There’s a rumble against his cheek as Jon says something and Tim wishes desperately he could still hear it, hear Jon’s sure and steadying voice.

He remembers when, near the beginning of it all, he would stand in the corridor outside of Jon’s office and listen as his voice drifted through the halls, all the pain and fear and emotions painted so clearly on it. He’d always thought Jon a bit ridiculous for the way he read those statements. Now he just wished he could hear it one more time.

He closes his eyes as the loss of his family and his friend and even his hearing tear through his chest, leaving him shattered and shaking.

Jon’s chest rumbles again and Tim presses his cheek into it, pretending for just a moment he can hear a sound that isn’t the awful ringing.

Another pair of hands close around him, softer ones, broader ones. They pull him up gently and he’s not entirely sure how they both ended up on the floor, it probably has something to do with how broad he is and how skinny Jon is.

He’s pulled close against a soft, broad chest and relaxes into it almost immediately. Martin’s safe, he always has been.

He’s deposited gently on the cot, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. He feels a bit like a child, being coddled and carted around. But right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He thinks Jon and Martin are saying stuff. Martin’s chest is rumbling against his back and he tilts his face so he can feel it better. Martin runs a comforting hand along his face, brushing away the tears that stick to it.

A hand settles on his knee, comforting and grounding and he’s sure it’s Jon’s. Both of Martin’s hands are occupied holding him together after all.

He closes his eyes. He can deal with the mess of it all tomorrow.

Right now, he just feels safe. His friends are here and that’s enough.

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[harryhandstan]

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry​ and @bopbopstyles​ for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha 

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :) 

final word count: 7.1k

//

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

//

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.  

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

//

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

//

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

//

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them,  "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

//

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

//

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

[potatoesforash]

Ghostbur x reader- Ghostly love

Y/n’s POV

Walking along the path to the clearing in the forest where my cottage resides I notice a change in the weather and very quickly realise it was beginning to rain. Sighing to my self I start to slow my pace in walking enjoying the rain as it hit my skin. My cloak getting soaked but at this moment I could care less and that's when I hear it, a voice coming from behind me. It was soft almost distant but it was loud enough for me to hear. Looking in front of me I see my cottage that I could just run to but out of the kindness of my hart I turn to look at the person behind me. I was shocked to find a pale man with a large gash in his middle looking at me as if nothing happened.

"Hi sorry to bother you but do you think I could possibly come in?" the strange man said

"you see I'm a ghost and I melt in the rain and I would really not like to be out here for long" he added to his previous statement rubbing the back of his ghost head

"Uhh sure thing bud" I say telling him to follow me. Walking into my home the man follows behind rather fast and sits him self in front of my couch facing the fire place that was still blazing.

"This is a nice place you have here" He said looking back at me "If you don't mind me asking what aesthetic is this? Its nice but confusing" He asks

"Oh its Dark Academia and Cottage core mixed into one I um I picked it up from my old friend who taught me everything I know" I say trying not to drop any hints that could get me possibly killed by Dream

"So he was like your professor?" He asks looking at me with a twinkle in his eye

"you could say that" Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Turning to face the door that I hadn't moved from since we got in opening it slightly to find two rather tall men in front of me one with pink hair and one with blonde hair covered by a hat of some sorts, suddenly I feel the ghost man's presence behind me.

"Hello, can I help you two men?" I ask politely opening the door more for them to get a proper look at me

"Yes you can we were told that you could help us with a little problem" the blonde man starts all of a sudden the ghost behind me shouts a loud Phil and the blonde and Pink haired men look at me suspiciously. The pink man quickly draws his sword and holds the tip of it to my thought

"Why is Ghostbur here?" the man asks me with his rough sounding voice

"If I was you I would put your sword down before you regret it" I respond and he just chuckles at me

"What are you going to do-" He asks but is quickly shut up when his sword has been thrown into the clearing far enough away from him so he could not reach it without having to move away from the door. He slowly looks at my hands to see that I have a stick (so he thought) in my hand

"What did you do?" He asks in a threatening tone

"I warned you but you did not heed it so I will ask you this once and once only who-" before I got to question the men in front of me ghostbur spoke up interrupting me

"This is my brother Technoblade and this is my dad Philza" pointing at both the men "she was just letting me stay till it stopped raining she meant no harm" he says putting a hand on my shoulder making a shiver run up my spine, his hand was freezing like ice, Looking back at the two men in front of me I come to the conclusion to speak up finaly

"What did you two want? And how did you find this place" Techno looked at me like he wanted to kill me and Phil just sighs and takes off his hat

"us three where supposed to come find you together but Wil here wandered off and found you we where told you where a necromancer of some kind and where hoping that you could bring my son here back from the dead?" Phil asked with hopeful eyes

"I-I'm sorry I don't do that anymore not since Dream had threatened me with execution if I ever did it again considering what happened the last time" I say looking back at the eyes of this ghosts father "But I can provide warmth, tea and shelter considering night is falling near and it hasn't stopped raining." I say giving Phil a sad smile

"That would be wonderful thank you..." He stops realising that I haven't told any of them my name

"Oh its Y/n my names Y/n" I say moving to the side to let the boys into my house which they gladly step in out of the cold.

*Time skip to later on in the night*

Ghostbur's POV

Me and Y/n sat on her couch enjoying each others company while Phil and Techno shared her bed.

"I just realised your the necromancer that Tommy keeps going on about!" I shout with a chuckle

"Tommy? As in the kid who came to me because he needed some where to hide because of my brother Dream?" she says to me and I look at her shocked

"Your brother is Dream?" I ask in a quiet scared voice like she would hurt me at any time

"Hey don't worry I'm not going to hurt you I'm nothing like the heartless basterd of a brother I have, he threatened me with execution his own sister, so ive got nothing for him anymore" she says tears welling in her eyes. Reaching out to touch her cheek with my icy hand I wipe any tears that had been shed away from her cheek. I look at her up and down and only now I realise that she has a scar running over her eye brow and down towards her soft looking lips. I let out a sight and pull her into a hug rubbing their back giving them a kiss on the head. It was around four thirty in the morning when I realise she fell asleep in my cold dead arms. I can't help but think, think that if I had been alive when I met her maybe then I would stand a chance to get with her. Wait no bad Ghostbur you have only just met her...But for some reason I cant help but be infatuated with her. Just everything about this young woman interests me. Her pretty H/l H/c hair, her E/c eye's and her soft pink lips that just look pleasant to feel against my own. But I have just met her so why do I feel like this? Why do I feel this way about her?

"Son?" I hear Phil's voice come from in front of me "Why are you crying?" He asks looking confused

"Dad, I um It's uh It's stupid really" I say wiping my own tears away

"You can tell me kiddo" He says smiling sitting in front of the glowing fire

"Dad when you met mum how did you know that you like her?" I ask subconsciously rubbing Y/n's back

"Well your mother was all I could think about at any point of the day, Why do you ask son" He replied looking at me in the eyes making me look back down at the sleeping girl on my chest to which he lets out a small 'oh'

"I don't know what to do i just met her and she's all I can think about and it feel so wrong yet so right but I'm also dead and I just I don't know any more Phil!" I say getting louder as I go on feeling Y/n stir in my arms i stop and look down at her seeing that she was still asleep I look back at Dad to see him smirking

"Well I think you've got a chance considering that were the only people she talks to other than villagers for trades" He says getting up and patting me on the shoulder "Try to get some sleep son" with that he walks away back to bed to sleep

*Time skip to 4 months down the line cuz I'm a lazy writer*

Y/n's POV

It's been four months since I met Ghostbur and I met and I have found myself slowly falling for the dead man. But the one thing that has made me realise that is the fact that he has basically moved in with me. But what I didn't realise is that through the forest from my clearing there is a snow biome where Techno's retirement home was sat. But that meant that when my brother went to find Tommy at Techno's house I got a lovely visit from my dick head of a brother.

"Why hello there sister, Ghostbur" He said just waltzing in my front door

"Dream what do you want?" I say to him with an angry look

"What can I pay a visit to my sister?" he asked coming farther into my home that used to be ours till he left for the SMP

"You don't get to say that I'm your sister after you threatened to kill me" I say looking him in that blank lifeless looking mask with the twisted psychopathic smile painted in black.

"Oh sister dearest you know why I threatened you with that and you know what you did to our mother" He said looking over at Ghostbur who had a confused face "Oh you haven't told your little friend here what you did? How you killed our mother in cold blood?" he said trying to gas light me to get a bad reaction out of me

"That's quite enough Dream. I want you to get out of my house now. And I never. Never want you to step foot inside of this house for as long as you live" I say in anger drawing my sword and pointing it at him. He rises his hands in the air and spins on his heels towards the door starting to retreat out of here

"Okay sister but just so you know I will not hesitate to kill you if you step out of line" He said disappearing out of my line of sight. After what felt like eternity I felt Ghostbur's hand on my shoulder and turn me towards his cold body pulling me into a hug

"was what he said...True?" he asks me all I can do is nod my shaky ands grab onto his jumper

"I'm sorry, I if you hate me that's fine I probably deserve it" I say into his chest

"hay no, I don't hate you I just want to know what happened" he said rubbing my back softly

"I...I was born with magic but only one person every one hundred years is born....so at the age of sixteen some people came to take me away but my mum got in the way and....they killed her and well Dream has blamed me for it saying I killed her that it was my fault...But I would never kill my own mother I loved her so much and so if you go outside to the back of the house there is a small grave for her that I made after he left that same day for the SMP when he was seventeen and that's the day he threatened to execute me if I ever try to bring those people anywhere near him so... after they taught me magic they left and they swore never to come near me again" I explained to him all of a sudden Wil let go of me and ran to his room and came back with something blue in his hands

"Your sad hare have some blue it will make yo better" he said handing me the blue automatically making me feel better

"Thank you Ghostbur I feel better now" I say looking up at him to find him staring at me with admiration on his face "hey Will? you okay there?" I ask him but I got no response but before I could ask him again I felt a cold pressure press on my lips It took me a couple seconds before I realised that it was the ghost boys lips and kissed back putting one of my hands on his cheek and the other on his shoulder his hands going around my waist. Pulling away from his lips and press my forehead to his and giggle.

"Phil told me I needed to do that at some point" he said a small smile on his face "I um Y/n if you couldn't already tell I really like you and I would love for you to be my girlfriend" He said to me

"Of course Will! I really like you too" I say leaning back into his cold soft lips kissing him again this time for longer than the last. Every kiss got longer and longer before eventually we where sat on the couch making out. But the make out session was cut short when the loud child burst into the house with Phil shouting after him and Techno not far behind him all three stopping at the door when they see the sight before them and Will And I pull away from each other embarrassed

"Well then... uh I think we will come back later come on boys" Phil says dragging his two other sons out behind him shutting the door quickly leaving me and Ghostbur alone again both of us look at each other and we start laughing soon enough falling asleep in each others arms in front of the crackling fire.

And Ghostbur swore that he could feel warmth after months of not being able to feel it and it was all because of me and loving the sweet ghost boy.

Ayyyyyyy its me here and have this sweet fluff for Ghostbur but I didn't plan on spending four fucking hours on this. Its longer than I spend on my school work which hopefully shows my dedication to this poor book.

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard IV: Vegas Lights (Chapter Seven) (B. Urie x Reader)

"WE NEED TO RECONVENE UPSTAIRS. COME ON."

Brendon's words echoed in your head, yet failed to properly sink in. Your feet moved on their own accord, instinctively following in the steps of the agent ahead of you. The hotel's various entertainment areas and their accents faded into a swirl of blurred colours and patterns; you shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose in hopes that it would recalibrate your vision.

It might have been all those tequila shots you'd taken with Ambrose, or the exceptional kiss you'd received a few moments earlier, but you were fairly certain that it was Brendon and his mesmerising, unnecessarily flirtatious performance that was responsible for your current state of disorientation.

A frown crept its way onto your face as you played back the last fifteen minutes in your mind – specifically, the parts where your bodyguard had gotten a bit too up close and personal with the hotel's female guests.

You were still following Brendon's lead, however your stride had slowed down enough so as to allow a couple feet of distance between the two of you. Sensing the change in proximity, the agent halted his movements and spun around to address you.

"Why the frown?"

Shaking your head, you avoided eye contact. "Just... thinking about your little... show."

His left eyebrow arched and there was a smirk playing on his lips. "You didn't like it?" he queried, feigning hurt, "It was for you."

Snapping your head back to look at him, you furrowed your brows and scoffed, stretching your arm out to gesture at the music lounge. "You sang to every girlin there."

"Yeah." He walked forward to minimize the distance between you and whispered lowly. "But where'd I end, though?"

With the intention of delivering a clever retort, you immediately opened your mouth to respond. Sadly for you, you couldn't think of a single thing to say in return, and instead resigned yourself to clicking your tongue at him irritatedly.

Satisfied with his little win, the brooding agent straightened himself up and smoothed his jacket. "Exactly. Besides..."

He started making his way to the elevator and you followed suit, leaning in slightly to ensure that you heard everything he was about to say.

"...not liked I danced with them. Unlike some people."

His voiced dropped to a low hum for that last sentence, but you caught it nontheless. You caught it, and you once again stopped dead in your tracks.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

It was abundantly clear that his quip was in reference to the whole "went-out-to-a-karaoke-bar-and-let-Aaron-Ross-serenade-you" thing, and honestly, you were insanely annoyed that he had brought it up.

After all, pretending to be dead and disappearing for eleven months was far worse.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you scoffed, clutching at your chest and widening your eyes, "I wasn't aware that dancing is a crime."

"It isn't," he shook his head, then tilted it to the side and stuffed his hands into his pockets, "Unless you do it without me."

"Oh, is that so?" you mumbled, skewing your face mockingly as you proceeded to overtake the agent in heading for the elevator. "Well maybe, if you had beenthere..."

Holding up his hands in a silent plea for you to stop talking, Brendon resumed his stride and sidled up next to you. Now that he was close enough to do so, he spoke into your ear.

"I don't intend on ever making that mistake again, believe me."

The two of you stepped into the elevator, standing shoulder-to-shoulder after pressing the button for your floor.

"I knew you sang," you scoffed, "You tried to deny it all those times, but I knew."

"Obviously. I literally sang you back to sleep once. What did you think that was, sweetheart? A dream?"

The elevator doors opened with a ding and seconds later, Brendon slipped out and down the hallway, leaving you to gawk after him.

"You literally said- UGH!"

✧✧✧

Minutes later. Your and Brendon's hotel suite.

"...so to summarise," Rollins made a circle with his hands, signifying that his recount of the last hour was coming to a pinnacle, "the lead was a bust and we just wasted a perfectly good distraction technique on nothing."

From the other side of the suite, over by the bar cart, Ambrose piped up. "On the bright side, we did bust a drug operation." Drink in hand, the Hound nudged Brendon with his elbow and leaned in to mutter some words. "I swiped a couple grams, if you wanna have a party later."

Already annoyed due to the fact that no one had managed to get anywhere with this case, Brendon clenched his jaw and exhaled fumingly at the Lunatic's immaturity. Turning his head sharply, he delivered a glare so deadly that it could be felt all throughout the suite.

Stepping back, Ambrose held up his free hand in a show of surrender, raising his brows. "Kidding. Jesus, lighten up a bit."

"I'll lighten up when we finally find a lead that's an actual fucking lead," the agent growled, grabbing Ambrose's drink out of his hand and downing it before rubbing his hands over his face.

"That was the closest thing we've had," Reigns reminded everyone, shaking his head in disdain, "I can't believe weof all people are in a rut."

Sick of the heavy, pessimistic aura in the room, you stood up and clapped your hands together once. Making sure that you looked each man in the eye, you called them down.

"We are not in a rut. We've been in Vegas for all of what, three days? Not all missions are walks in the park – you guys of all people should know that."

You were met with silence and four downcast gazes, and so you continued.

"Today was a particularly draining one; we're all tired, not thinking clearly, and some of us are still slightly inebriated so," you made your way over to the bathroom and placed on hand on the doorframe as you finished addressing your teammates, "let's all just call it a night, get some rest and then discuss our next move in the morning, okay? Okay. Wonderful. Now get out of my room, I need to take a shower."

A resounding slam echoed around the room as you emphasised your point by shutting the bathroom door. The lock clicked and taking that as their final cue, the four agents shifted from their respective spots around the suite and headed for the exit.

Given that there was twenty feet and a thick plastered wall seperating you and your teammates, it wasn't at all possible for you to overhear any conversation that arose between them. Nevertheless, Brendon waited to hear the water spouting from the shower head before he started speaking.

"Since this case is clearly going nowhere slowly..." Brendon stopped in front of the door, running a hand through his hair before placing both hands on his hips. The Hounds ceased their steps and listened intently. "I'm gonna call Weekes. In the meantime, I want you guys to keep looking for Mason."

Ambrose made no effort to hide his disdain over the request, letting his body go limp as he expelled a throaty groan.

"Big brother duty again? Dude, we told you that he's dead."

Brendon responded with an icy glare. "You also told me that the kidnappers were operating from an underground lair here in the casino. So forgive me if I'm a bit untrusting of your sources and their intel."

"Fair enough."

Always the rational one, Rollins nodded his head and gave Brendon a firm pat on the back as reassurance.

"We'll handle it. Let us know what Weekes says."

Nodding, the brooding agent opened the door to allow his colleagues to leave, each of them mumbling goodnights as they did so. He locked the door, making sure that it was properly secure before moving off to grab another drink from the bar cart.

The pattering of water against shower tiles continued to filter through from the bathroom and concluding that you'd most likely still be in there for a while, Brendon decided it'd be best if he called HQ then.

He picked up the suit jacket strewn across a chair in the corner of the room and ruffled through the inside pockets in search of his phone. Once he found it, he walked over to the compact dining area, i.e. the most secluded part of the suite and tapped the screen a couple times to ring Dallon.

Setting it down on the small table, Brendon tooks sips of his whiskey as he waited for the techie to answer. There was complete silence in the suite, save for the distant pattering of the water from the shower and the trill of the phone; the sounds fell in and out of sync with one another, giving the agent something to listen to until the cheery voice of his comrade – accompanied by his hologram – pierced through the air.  

"Hey, handsome! I was wondering when you'd call!"

Just barely managing to fight back a chuckle and a smile, Brendon cocked his head up in greeting.

"Hey, Weekes. Listen, everything has pretty much gone to shit over here. We've got no leads, no intel, nothing. So..."

It took a second for the penny to drop but once the techie fully caught on to what his brooding counterpart was insinuating, he dropped the Scooby-Doo mug he'd had in his hand. The broken pieces of ceramic and milky coffee painted the linoleum floor of the tech room in an unappealing mixture of browns and blues.

Scooting as close to his desk as the roller chair would allow, Dallon leaned in closer still as he readjusted the glasses in front of his wide eyes. Eyes that were sparkling with excitement and a hint of mischief.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" He was practically squealing, forcing Brendon to recoil and shut his eyes. "We're gonna do the-"

"Yes." The agent cut his colleague off, partly out of fear that he'd overspeak and say something he shouldn't and partly because he was still squealing. "I hate to say it but... we're in a rut, and this might be our only option."

Dallon's hologram cheered triumphantly. Brendon winced. The techie was far too invested in this, and that unsettled him a great deal. Especially since it was purely for the sake of the mission, and not for the reason Dallon was not-so-secretly vouching for.

"So," Brendon cleared his throat, tossing a quick glance over in the direction of the bedroom to make sure that you weren't out yet; you weren't, and he looked back to the hologram, "Can you get that suitcase here by morning?"

"How do you know me, bro?" Dallon scoffed, then leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles, "Already on its way."

✧✧✧

The next morning.

The tiny crack in the hotel's curtains allowed for rays of morning light to filter into the bedroom, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Your eyelids rose with ease, grateful to finally reopen after a good night's sleep. Stretching out your limbs, you shook off the remnants of your slumber.

You had gone to bed right after your shower the previous night, calling out a goodnight to Brendon as you crawled beneath the covers. A low mumble was all you'd received in response. He was hunched over his phone, busy with what was undoubtedly mission-related things; you assumed he'd come to bed as soon as he finished whatever it was he needed to do.

Looking over at the space next to you, a frown found its way onto your face. The bed looked completely untouched, not a crinkle in the bedding nor a dent in the pillow. Your fingers trailed along the crisp duvet, hoping that you would somehow feelhim – feel that he had been there – and that it would prove that your thoughts of him chosing to sleep on the sofa rather than next to you were nothing but pesky anxieties.

Sadly, you found no such reassurance.

Heaving a sad sigh, you rolled over to face the other side. Your eyes fixed on the compact bedside table – or more specifically, what was on top of it. The frown you  were wearing slowly morphed into a soft smile as you took in the sight of the still-steaming cup of coffee.

There was your reassurance.

While it was evident that he hadn't slept next to you, the familiar gesture of bringing you your morning coffee was proof enough that he cared.

Pushing yourself up into a sitting position, you called out to him. "Bren?"

Your voice was hoarse from sleep, and you cleared your throat while reaching over to pick up the mug. After taking a sip, you tried again.

"Brendon?"

No response. Knitting your brows together, you peeled back the covers and tentatively slid out of bed, trying not to spill any coffee. The complimentary hotel slippers laid by your feet; you slid them on and started for the living area of the suite.

There was no sign of your bodyguard, however there was a note on the coffee table. Picking it up, you read over the slanted handwriting.

'Needed to run a couple errands. Be back soon.

                                                                     -B'

"Errands?" you muttered, taking another sip of coffee as you reread the note.

It was odd that the usually mission-orientated agent would take time off to do personal things, which led you to conclude that whatever he was doing was somehow tied to the case. It was even more odd, then, that he hadn't informed you of what exactly the errands entailed.

Chalking it up to his lone-wolf, arrogant nature, you dropped the note back onto the coffee table and walked back to the bedroom. You picked up your cellphone from the side table and sat yourself on the edge of the bed, scrolling through your notifications while you slugged down the remainder of your coffee.

Not long after, you were headed for the bathroom to freshen up and get ready for the day. You shut and locked the door out of habit, ensuring your privacy despite the fact that you were alone in the suite. When you emerged from the bathroom a half hour later, though, you realised that that was no longer the case.

You stopped in your tracks when you saw the dress splayed across the made-up bed. Knitting your brows together, you approached the bed with cautious steps and an inquisitive gaze.

Now that you were close enough to properly examine the dress – which was covered in a transparent dress protector to preserve its delicateness – you were quite easily the most confused you had ever been.

"Uh... Brendon?"

"Heads up."

You spun around just in time to catch the airborne object he had tossed across the room. Clutching the bunch of tulle in both hands, you lowered it down to inspect it.

"What's this?" you asked, fondling the material as you tried to make sense of it.

"A veil." His words caused you to freeze, your eyes the only part of you that moved as you looked up at him. He nodded to the item of clothing on the bed. "And that's a dress. Get changed. We have an appointment."

Tilting your head, you gave the agent a skeptical look. "Where?"

"The altar."

"...why?"

"We're getting married."

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@arosebyname @avengertrash21 @tiffisnotnormal  @darknessdancing @raversam @theieroenthusiast @the-ghost-of-hemingway @laerkers @peters-vlogs @hockeyswag-boll  @username-number-01834 @untilyouburnallofthewitches @underscoredarcy  @aminasmells @becausebands @converseskyline  @vinyloider @attractiveugly  @twentzyonepirates  @tegan-eva @i-only-date-flower-boys @jishwatylrandtop  @blueskiesbleakeyes @robinruns @hi-ho-and-hello @svintsandghosts  @iamafishandigosplish  @sunshineandapplepie @kealohilani-tepise  @bookworm104 @sheridans-dynamos @justawriterinprogress  @anotherwriterinprogress @sillylandcalzonespy

[shhh-no-ones-home]

for the road (2/2) steve clark x reader

+++++++++

part 1 part 2

sorry this took so long, like i had mentioned in the other post, our internet cable was cut and it took a few days for it to get fixed. on top of that i had a few essay finals to finish and just didnt have time to get back to this. it is here now though and i hope you all like it!

she edited for the most part but if i missed anything, sorry, lol.

again i dont usually add songs from the artists to their own chapters but i think this one works pretty good with the story so youre getting it anyways lol

Song: stagefright by def leppard

tag list: @cynic-spirit @lifeisabitchandsoareyou

+++++++++

as soon as i turned around from locking the shop there was a taxi outside, parked on the curb with a woman leaning against it. she offered me a smile.

"are you y/n?"

she asked and i nodded.

"the band is waiting for you."

she said opening the door for me. i politely thanked her before sliding in and buckling the seat belt. the car smelled like apples, making me feel much less nervous than before. the ride to the venue was pretty silent though and i watched out the window as we passed by the tall city buildings. as the venue came into view my eyes got wide, i had never actually been to this part of town before. I looked at the venue in awe, it was much larger than the places I usually attended concerts at. the metal gates opened in front of us and she drove in, straight to the back doors. a large man in all black was waiting there with his arms held together in front of him. i was definitely back to being nervous again. he opened the door and peered down at me.

"You here for Steve?"

He asked and I nodded, pulling the ticket out of my pocket and showing it to him.

"yeah uh, he gave me this."

he looked over it before helping me out of the cab.

"Right this way."

He said, hand moving to be placed gently at my back as we walked inside the venue. I was a little unnerved at first, being alone with the man and all but marched along anyways. the halls were brightly lit as we walked, the white concrete shining against the floor tiles. i watched as roadies and crew members walked around us, gaining my attention as the man kept pushing me forward. When he reached a door at the end of the hall I smiled, seeing Steve sat against the couch's arm rest with his guitar in his hand.

"Here we are."

The man said, dropping his hand from my back and standing firmly beside the door. He never looked back at me as I stepped into the room shyly. I waved to the guys before Steve noticed me.

"Y/n!"

He said excitedly, standing and offering me a hug. I gladly took it before he escorted me to sit at the couch.

"Was the ride here alright?"

He asked and I nodded.

"Yeah, for the most part. Thanks again for inviting me. I'm excited to see you guys play!"

I said, wide smile on my face.

"I'm happy to hear that, i really hope you like it. we've been working on something new for the set."

i made an impressed face.

"sounds exciting."

then i heard one of them laugh.

"you say that like shes seen our other sets."

he had darker curly hair.

"so?"

steve said sitting a little closer to me, his arm falling behind my back to rest on the couch.

"im sav."

the man offered his hand and i shook it.

"y/n."

steve cleared his throat.

"right, thats rick savage he plays bass, my partner in crime phill collen, plays guitar, rick allen who is our man behind the kit, and of course you already met and talked to joe elliot our lead singer."

they all offered hellos around the room as steve introduced them.

"its nice to officially meet you all, i appreciate you guys coming into the shop earlier. i put the record in the window after you left and six people stopped in to buy a copy."

i joked, making steve laugh lightly.

"happy to help."

sav said. then a man with a clip board and mic around his neck stepped in looking rushed.

"alright guys its time to mic up, its almost show time."

they all nodded before leaving the room one by one to follow the man.

"hey ive gotta go but ill be back right before the show starts so you can come with us to the side of the stage okay?"

i nodded as he stood.

"okay."

he touched my shoulder lightly before walking off. i sighed to myself for a second before getting up and walking around the room. it was super neat. the painted bricks were covered in signatures from all sorts of rock stars. they were littered about in varying colors of permanent marker, some of them with small messages and dates next to them. part of me wondered how long it would take to fill before they had to paint over it or start on a new set of walls. then i heard a knock at the door, it was steve with a guitar now around his neck.

"hey, you ready for the show?"

he asked with a wide smile.

"lead the way."

i said stepping out of the room and following him back down the hallway.

"so i know this isnt exactly date material but how are you so far?"

i let out a short laugh.

"im doing great, this is all fantastic."

he seemed content with that answer as we stepped up to the side of the stage.

"im glad to hear that. if you arent busy afterward would you maybe wanna go get something to eat? before we have to head out?"

i twisted my body a little in excitement, holding my hands in front of me, smiling like an idiot.

"id love that."

he touched my arm gently.

"great!"

i leaned forward and kissed his cheek lightly, making him blush.

"alright guys, showtime."

the man who had called them out earlier was back, ushering them into a line.

"ill be here when youre done."

i said, earning a nod from him. i watched as they all ran out one by one, the crowd screaming as the backtrack blared through the speakers. they all just lit up as they began playing, joe speaking into the microphone and asking how the crowd was feeling. it made be giggle, not being to contain my excitement anymore.

°°°°°°°°°

when the set was done steve was quick to get offstage and into a new set of clothes. he was all sweaty under the stage lights during the show so i could understand why. he had grabbed my hand and practically ran with me down the hall and out the back door, making me laugh. when we were in the cab i had arrived in he calmly told the woman where to take us, his arm making its way behind me to hold me around my waist. the drive to the late-night restaurant was filled with small conversation and light smiles, he really was an interesting person. when we pulled up he helped me out of the cab and walked with me on his arm inside.

"two?"

the waitress asked, him nodding and following her to a booth across the diner.

"so, what can i get you two to drink?"

she said, setting the menus down. i looked at her and smiled.

"coffee please."

she nodded and looked to steve who look at me a little curiously.

"two coffees i suppose."

he let out a short laugh before she walked away.

"its a little late for coffee dont you think?"

he asked, looking over the menu. i sent him a look.

"says the person who ordered one as well."

he laughed and shook his head.

"i guess we all have our vices huh?"

i smiled at him, looking over the menu.

"hey, ive been meaning to ask you-"

"you two ready or do you need some more time?"

i looked from steve to her.

"cheese fries please."

i said, handing her the menu as she wrote it down.

"same."

he said with a smile, handing her his menu too. she nodded before walking away.

"now, what was it that you wanted to ask?"

he folded his hands together and leaned into the table, giving me his full attention.

"well i was wondering what the rest of tonight would look like."

i laughed light heartedly.

"its not exactly like you guys are staying here. i know you said it was a date, and i really like you but i dont necessarily wanna have too much fun, ya know?"

he nodded slowly, the waitress bring us our food and us thanking her.

"ive kinda been thinking about that too. and i really like you too and would love for this to happen."

he motioned between the two of us.

"but i dont want to make you wait for me."

i laughed a little bit as i ate.

"i dont think id mind too much. waiting that is, ive been single this long its not like it would be much different."

i joked, making him smile at me as he took a drink.

"so, what? we do this? for real? keep in contact until tour is over and then what?"

i shrugged.

"we make it work."

i said matter-of-factly. he studied my face for a second.

"okay, so we're really doing this."

he said with a wide smile. i nodded.

"i guess we are."

then it hit me.

"oh, here!"

i grabbed one of the survey cards out of the napkin holder and began writing.

"heres the numbers you can reach me at. the top is my house and the bottom is the shop. if you need me ill be at either of those places."

he looked over it before folding it and stuffing it into his pocket.

"hopefully you dont get too tired of me before tour is over."

we both laughed.

"i dont think i will, if you wanna call everyday be my guest. id love to hear about the places you visit. makes my small corner of the world a little bit bigger."

he sent me a genuine, heart melting smile.

"then i will absolutely do that for you y/n."

we both finished our drinks and got up, taking the ticket to the register and him paying the waitress. we said our thanks before climbing back into the cab out front. the drive back to the venue was full of cuddles and soft touches, talking back and forth about what he would be doing and where he would be going in the next couple weeks. it all sounded so interesting and i wished i could go with him. when the cab came to a stop at the back door we both got out, his hands making their way to my waist as i leaned into the car.

"ill be looking forward to seeing you next month."

he said softly, pushing my hair out of my face.

"likewise."

i said back, looking over his face. he seemed so soft. his thumb grazed my cheek before he leaned down and kissed me gently. the moment our lips met i knew that was it. the wait would be worth it for sure. when he pulled away we both sighed as he rested his forehead against mine.

"ill for sure be looking forward to another one of those."

he joked, both of us smiling at each other like a couple of teenagers.

"well then, before we both have to go, heres one for the road."

i said before pushing forward quickly, kissing him again. it was deeper than before as he pulled me into him. i wanted to feel that forever. when the back door creaked open we both pulled away, it drawing his attention as the body guard stood there sternly.

"i guess thats my queue."

he grabbed my hands as he backed up, dropping them as he got further away. i watched him walk to the door, waving back to me before he was ushered inside. i covered my mouth for a second before bouncing up and down with excitement. i could wait a month, if that was the hardest part of this then surely i could handle it. and now i had tour adventure stories to look forward to. i smiled like an idiot as i slid back into the cab, telling her where to take me. i couldnt stop smiling the entire car ride. i couldnt wait for the month to be up.

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Yours For Tonight. Pt 2

Michael Gray x Reader

Part One

A/n: Requested by @namelesslosers , “Part two please! This is amazing, Maybe one where he's already with Gina and the reader comes back to Small Heat? They never stopped loving each other and yeah... Anyway, tag me if you do please?”

The Morning After

“I couldn’t face saying goodbye for the last time, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I have to leave and I’m sorry that we can’t spend the rest of our lives together. I know I promised we would. I’ll never forget you Michael, the love that you showed me was possible, and I’ll forever be thankful for that. I’ll love you always, y/n”

That was the note you left for Michael the morning you left, taking one last look back at his sleeping figure before you gently closed his bedroom door, sneaking down the staircase and onto the cold, harsh cobbles of the street outside, ready to begin your new life in France with your boyfriend. Well... as ready as you would ever be.

Three Years Later

The sharp wind whipped around your as you stepped out of your taxi, taking a long, deep breath whilst you stood taking in your surroundings, the sleek black car vanishing back down the street. A small smile spread across your face as you saw the familiar blackish grey terrace houses that held so many memories. The dull, cold cobbles of the roads which ironically brought you so much warmth and comfort.

You were home... you were in Small Heath.

With no plans of where you’d live, or work, however truthfully, your husbands job left you quite well off so for now you could easily pay for a hotel for however long it took for you to find a house, you found yourself heading to the garrison.

As soon as you made your way through the sparkling golden doors, you caught eyes with Harry, his face lighting up with surprise. You sat and chatted for a good hour or so as he served the men in the pub, this is where you learned that Tommy had bought the pub not long after you left, explaining the glamorous new design. Sparking the topic of the Peaky Blinders, him raving about how well they were all doing which lead to you subtly asking how “Pollys son, that new lad Michael” was doing, which was how you were told he had moved to America on business for a while before moving back a few months later. The topic didn’t last long, you not wanting to seem suspicious so you let Harry briefly fill you in on how your mutual friends were doing.

After a short while, a few familiar faces, mostly friends from school and thier boyfriends and husband made their way into the pub as the day shifted into the evening. The garrison grew busier with time whilst you were bombarded with questions about your life over the past three years, the contry, the food, the people. You almost didn’t notice the door fly open and the faces of Tommy Shelby and Polly Gray appear in the doorway. You breathed a sigh of relief when they turned to make thier way into the back room.

That was until the door creaked opens once again, revealing the face of the man you once, a almost definitely still do love. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, placing a cigarette between his lips and raising a match to light it. He lifted his eyes whilst tucking the match box back into his trouser pocket, scanning the room. Your heat skipped a beat as his chestnut brown eyes can’t into line with your y/e/c ones. It felt like the world stopped spinning, his face unreadable as you swallowed the lump in your throat. The buzz of chatter began to ring in your ears, fading into silence. To you, it felt like it was only you and him in the room. A shy, unsure smile flashed across your face, his astonished eyes softening in response.

Suddenly the noise returned to your ears, your heat started to beat and 1000 miles an hour and you watched a woman slip through the crack between the doors, her golden blonde hair glistening in the light. Her painted red lips raising to Michaels ear, whispering something which you couldn’t make out. Her hand making its way upto Michaels neck to get his attention, her burgundy nails gently scratching against his skin. On her finger, a ring.

You forced your eyes away and tears welled in them. Michael snatching his head in the direction of his wife and they also made thier way into the back room.

Your mind was riddled with questions and possibilities. How long had they been married? Did they have children? What was her name? Of corse you knew there was a possibility of seeing him, you weren’t stupid. You for some reason you hadn’t expected this.

You spent the next half an hour or so trying your best to act natural, a few wuenstioning looks were directed at you from your friends, which were returned with you most convincing smile.

Not long after, the Blinders left the back room, Tommy heading to the bar, Polly heading home, leaving Michael and his wife stood talking for a second before she ran to catch up with Polly. He stood searching the room for your face in the crowd of drunken men and tipsy women, after finally spotting you he gave a sly nod in the direction of the door, indicating for you to follow. You waited a minute or two to avoid any suspicion, and to prepare yourself for what was about to happen, before excusing yourself to the toilet and slipping out the out the pub undetected.

The cool air hit you, somewhat refreshing however due to your lack of preparation to be stood out in the cold with your ex lover at this time of night, and therefore your lack of coat, the cold soon hit your bones, causing you to warp your arms around yourself with a shiver.

You searched the darkness for Michael, only spotting him when the glow of a match lit up his face in a discreet ally a few meters away from the entrance of the Garrison. Letting out a shakey breath, your feet subconsciously carried you towards him.

You froze a couple of meters in front of him. You took in his appearance as you stared at one another. His eyes sat above light purple circles, he looked exhausted. His skin a little more wrinkled than when you left, obviously from stress. His hair gelled to the side, much smarter and professional than you ever remembered, must be to cover his tiredness.

“Hey” the simple word snapped you out of your thoughts, bringing your eyes back upto his. They were no longer bright and full of life, they were dull and mysterious.

“Hi” you said, your voice wavering slightly as you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

He offered you a cigarette which you gladly took, thanking him with a smile as you made your way forward, now standing opposite him.

A few seconds past before he broke the silence.

“How’ve you been?” He said cautiously.

“Not bad, you?”

“Yeah, good, thank you”

You stood in an awkward silence, neither of you knowing how to begin a conversation, or more like not knowing what kind of conversation to start.

Once again, it was Michael who spoke first. “What are you doing here, y/n?”

“Well, Iv got nothing left for me in France, let’s just say that.”

“What about...” he began, about to ask about your boyfriend before his mind assumed the worst. “Is he... ok?”

“He’s fine. Well...” you took a second to think of how to word your sentence. Do you lie? How much should you tell? You gave in, letting out a sigh, you continued “Prison.”

Michael raised his eyebrows in shock, your boyfriend would be the last person anyone would’ve expected to go to prison. A respectable lawyer from an honourable family.

“Yeah” you said, reading his expression. “Money laundering... got three years inside.” You looked down at th ground, for some reason ashamed of your partners illegal antics which you had absolutely no involvement in.

“And you didn’t want to wait for him?”

“Nah” your lifted you head to have another drag of your cigarette, as did Michael.

“You know how I feel about criminals.” You joked with a small smile, you were fully aware of what Michael and his family did for a living, and he knew that. A faint grin flashed across his face, giving you his good old, soft ‘shut up’ face as he let out a soft laugh.

“Didn’t expect that” he said, deciding to state the obvious.

“Yeah well he wasn’t as lucky as you lot, he got caught” Another giggle left his lips, you always knew how to make him laugh, he loved that about you.

“No, but seriously... I just saw my chance and took it, you know how I felt about him, I never wanted to leave. Anyway, here I am.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile, imagining how it felt to have to sail off to a new country, leaving everything you ever knew behind to live with a boyfriend you you’d fell out of love with.

His trail of though was broken. “So, what’ve you been upto?” You said solemnly, leaning back against the cold brick wall, preparing yourself for the conversation surrounding his wife.

Michael inhaled on his cigarette, needing to calm his nerves, he knew you had realised who she was when he walked into the Garrison, you weren’t stupid, he could see it in your eyes.

“She’s my wife.” He stated, knowing you’d catch on to who he was talking about.

“Congratulations” you tried to put on your best fake smile.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back, y/n, honestly if I had any ide-”

“Michael... dont. You weren’t to know”

He nodded slightly, clearing his throat. “I still love you, you know” his voice was shy, laced with anticipation and somewhat fear.

“Loving each other was never the problem, mikey” you said softly.

“Yeah but now the problems Gina, and I-”

“Gina” you cut him off, reality hitting you now that you learned his wife’s name. He just looked at you, sadness set deep within his eyes.

“I’d do anything for you y/n, anything to have you back” his voice was barely a whisper as he stepped closer to you. His hand cautiously reaching up to cup your face. You leaned into his palm as you eyes glided shut, a tear escaping. “Look at me, please y/n”

You slowly opened you eyes to see Michaels only inches away, now glistening with tears of his own. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, the connection which you had longed to feel for so many years hit you. The butterflies in your stomach, the slight dizzy ness that only Michael ever made you feel. It was all still there.

Despite your hunger for him, you abruptly broke the kiss, stroking his cheek, trying to hold yourself back. “I can’t do this Michael... your happily married” once again leaning into his touch.

“I’m not happy” he said bluntly, shaking his head as if to convince you.

“She is”

“I’m so sorry y/n, for everything” his voice filled with regret.

“Don’t be, please don’t be... Iv got to go Mikey”

And with that, you smoothly escaped his grasp and made your way out onto the street, the biting wind surrounded you once again.

You heard the faint calls of Michael shouting your name as you forced you self to keep walking. Leaving you both with tear stained faces.

Michael would have to go home to his wife, his mind submerged in thoughts of you whilst you lay in an estranged hotel room, drowning in thoughts on Michael.

PartThree.

A/n: hehehehe I’m actually SO proud of this :) @namelesslosers I hope this is ok!!

Remember my requests are always open!!

Instagram: @peakyblindersengland

Masterlist

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[kurgy]

so im just remaking this donations post bc the ones i have are so cluttered and im dying

so heres the rundown: im 2 months behind on rent, im being evicted and have to build a carport into a room at my moms house or else im homeless, and my dog arlo needs to go to the vet.

ive been saving up money to repair the room

this one to be specific. i have to clear it out, insulate, drywall, paint, repair all holes that cause water to leak in during rain (monsoon season is coming up so yikes) and finally pay an electrician to fix all exposed wires. its a huge project but is still cheaper than even a basic studio apartment. Because of this, im behind on rent, and my roommate/landlord is being lenient with me but i dont know for how much longer.

so im working, doing some translation work, and commissions, but im losing money faster than i can make it. this is all i have atm

then, theres arlo, this baby girl

shes been under the weather, poor appetite, diarrhea, mucus discharge from her bum, and seemingly random lacerations on her tummy and legs

the good news about this is that i have talked to a vet, and its nothing serious (thank god) but she still needs a full checkup, and its 80 just to walk in the door. now, there is a sort of credit system so i dont have to pay out of pocket right there, but it accumulates interest quickly, so depending on how long it takes to save up the money to pay it off, more will be needed.

so basically: shits fucked and i wanna die

[bxthharmon]

White Butterflies, pt v || Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

Words: 1374

Warnings: Mentions of suicide and death

Summary: Seers have a higher knowledge

 A/N: sorry this took a whileee

i | ii | iii | iv | v

This story doesn’t follow the plot, so you don’t have to know the story to understand it.

The gull soared over the sea, fighting the strong winds, the bird journeying towards the dots on the horizon. The sea, the waves, meters high, the clouds and lightning trying to dishearten the creature, but it fought on. Within minutes, the sails and shields of the longboats were clear, and battered by the storm. The sails were being pulled down to form tents, Hvitserk and his brother visible on the leading boat. Ivar swore, turning to his brother, “Your wife was right.” he roared, his voice contending with the storm, “We’re scattered, and we’ve lost ships.”

Hvitserk, swinging off a rope, leaned out of the boat, staring at the bird. His stare softened, and turned back. “You heard yourself, she had Njord’s favour,” he kept his eyes on the bird, “We will survive this storm, and we will gather our ships again.”

“Brother,” Ubbe came out from the half-formed tent, “I hope you are right. Come on.” he pulled Hvitserk back, and they retreated to the shelter of the tent.”

When your eyes opened, you could feel yourself sick with worry. You’d been sick with worry for days now, and your suspicions had been confirmed. You sat up, looking around your room, and saw that all of the candles in your room had blown out even though the wax wasn't even half melted. Uneasily, you rolled out of bed and dressed, letting Solveig braid your hair, the pair of you chatting idly. You mentioned the candles blowing out and your dream, making worry obvious across her face.

“Solveig,” you frowned, “what’s wrong?”

She looked to the floor, “Have you been to the Seer?” she questioned, and you shook your head. “My Princess, if I was in your position, I’d go to see him, he holds a wisdom beyond us.”

You nodded, and smiled at her, “Go with me?”

“Of course, as your thrall.” She confirmed.

“No, as my friend.” you assured her, “Now, we shall go after we eat, yes?”

*

The hut thinly walled, decorated with ornaments and symbols strung up, and candles arranged in the corners and sides of the room. The Seer himself sat before you, skin marred over his eyes and lips black, looking unnatural and unsettling. “I have waited for your visit for months now, Y/N Lothbrok, Christian turned to Heathen.” He had greeted you, and you had frowned, but no said anything.

“You want to ask me about your husband.” The Seer stated, and you agreed.

“Will he come back unharmed?” You asked.

“His fate lies here, and any harm to become him will be in an emotional mutiny. He would survive being dropped from the skies, but only suffer in his soul, not his body.” the Seer riddled, and you nodded. 

“Will I give him children?”

“Twice,” he sighed, “They will form a legacy in your name, and in the name of justice.”

You nodded again.

“Your mind…” he rasped, “Is plagued with questions.”

“How are my brothers?” you asked, thinking of Theo.

“Two prosper, but will fall for their fury, one dies slowly, unrealised for now, by no one’s hand but his Christian God’s.”

“He is ill?” you frowned, “Which brother, tell me which of my brothers is dying?”

“You ask too many questions.” the Seer croaked, “You thirst for knowledge the Gods wish to hide… it is futile, the Gods’ will is iron.

You felt angry, you knew he knew, and what if it was Theo? Arthur or Geoffrey, you could live with. But Theo? A tear slipped down your cheek. “Is it Theo?” you asked, your voice wavering.

The Seer looked at you, or turned its head to you, seeing without eyes, “Your instinct is strong, and trustworthy. Do not doubt it, do not doubt yourself, and do not doubt another.”

He presented his hand to you, and you glanced at Solveig, who nodded at you, miming licking her hand. You took the Seer’s hand and licked it, as she had directed you, before standing and walking out of the hut.

“Solveig.” you turned to her as she followed you out. “Can I trust you?” she nodded. “I know servants talk. But please, don’t repeat what you heard there to anyone. No servants, no visitors, and especially not the Ragnarssons upon their return. Okay?”

“Of course,” she nodded. You held your head up high, looking over her shoulder.

“If you do, I’ll know. And I would hate the consequences.” you sighed, looking back to her. “I am not betraying your King, but I don’t want things to escalate.”

She nodded, and you smiled, the pair of you heading back to the town.

*

The sun hung low in the sky, streaks of scarlet and peach painting the sky, the last lights beaming through the gaps in the trees. The yew tree stood tall over you, as you prayed. You asked for Njord to carry your husband’s longboats to your country safely, and for the raids to go well. You prayed that they would spare your younger brother, and you prayed that the fate the seer bestowed on him was not painful. 

You wondered if this fate was an illness, or self-inflicted. There was a woman at your old court, who had gone crazy, preaching that God had spoken to her in the night about her descent to Hell, and two days later had been found hanging from a rope in the stables. You’d been friends with the stable boy who found her, and he had insisted on telling you the gruesome details of her corpse. You were ten at the time and to this day didn’t know which details you believed.  And there was a boy, a young boy, only twelve or so, who had died of internal injuries after falling from his horse. Arthur had taken great delight in telling you about how he had died in great agony, screaming and crying as his insides had ripped and his body began to falter and die. It was one of the hunting trip, when you were seventeen and your mother had finally stopped you from going. 

Dinner was solemn, everyone had been dressed in black, with you and Mother wearing veils as well. The Lord’s son, who had fallen, was buried, and his family would be leaving to travel back to their own lands the following morning. You watched as people told Arthur how sorry they were after having to witness such a thing, and you saw how he played up to it, always such a good actor. He was the only one there, and he was angry at the Lord for trying to gain more lands off of Father. He was horrible, but he was always acting for the family, wanting more power, more money, more fame. Father supported it, knowing Arthur would be the driver when Geoffrey became king, so incidents like this would happen, and everyone would pretend they didn’t know it was him. You stood with Theo as your mother made a speech about the boy’s memory, and Arthur stood by her, pretending to be upset. As the court clapped, Theo nudged you, pointing at Arthur. He smirked at the pair of you, and you felt sick. “Oh, Theo,” you sighed, “Why are we cursed with him for a brother?”

He’d laughed, “Oh Y/N,” He’d sighed, mocking you, “We just all missed out on father’s talent for always wanting more power.” 

“I’m not sure I’d call it missing out.” You murmured, as you looped your arm in his, “Now we need to escape Mother, she’s determinedly walking towards us and I don’t want another lecture, I’ve already had two today.”

You thought of how you and Theo had spent the evening evading your parents and getting drunk. You missed him, and how it felt to have a brother who truly cared. You knew the Ragnarssons cared for you, but you wouldn’t let yourself be drunk like that in front of any of them, and you doubted any of them, other than Hvitserk, would be willing to look after you when you were drunk or would gossip with you about whatever drama was going on in the court. You sighed, and prayed once more, this time, for a real family.

tags: @soleil-dor​ @siliethkaijuy​

[northoftheroad]

The Wayne family

Sometimes, when I read Batman fanfiction, I wonder whether the writer has been reading the same comic books as I have. Because they paint a picture of a big, happy Wayne family where the kids are very close and sometimes the whole bunch even live together. 

Now, I do know the difference between canon and fanfic. And I get that wishful thinking and selective reading plays a big part. But still, I'm curious where these conceptions come from.

Just to be clear. I do think of Bruces adopted/foster children as a family because they have a common father(figure). But they have not grown up together. It depends on what DC continuity you're playing with, of course, but most of them are in their teens when Bruce Wayne comes into their lives and they can’t have lived more than a few years with him. Several of them have not lived together. So even if I let my imagination run amok, I can't see them living at the Manor together as a tight-knit family, and I don't think all of them know each other very well.

Batman and Robin vol 2 # 10. By Peter Tomasi, art Patrick Gleason and Mick Gray.

Dick Grayson had moved out (or been kicked out, depending on what version you go with) when Jason Todd came along (and Bruce suffered from empty nest syndrome). Jason was dead when Tim Drake came into the picture, and Tim lived with his parents or boarding school in the beginning. Even if Dick kept in pretty close contact with Tim, he had a permanent home elsewhere.

Batman: Gotham Knights # 45. By Scott Beatty, art Roger Robinson and John Floyd. 

I admit I haven't read a lot with Cassandra Cain. As far as I understand, after Flashpoint she has never lived in the Manor. Before Flashpoint, she was adopted, but I don’t believe she lived long in the Manor, and the only other Wayne adoptee she can have shared the home with is Tim. 

Edit: At least, Bruce probably did have time to adopt Cass, even though he promised to do it in Batman: Redemption Road (2008), just before the story arc Batman RIP where he, presumedly, died. They certainly did not live together as a family for long. 

Batgirl: Redemption Road # 6. By Adam Beechen, art Jim Calafiore and Jack Purcell.

I’m sure there are cute panels of Tim and Cass out there, but I’m picking some from comics I know of.

Batgirl # 50. By Dylan Horrocks, art Rick Leonardi and Jesse Delperdang.

Batman: Family # 7. By John Francis Moore, art Steve Lieber and Stefano Gaudiano.

Tim was an older teenager when Damian al Ghul/Wayne dropped into the house and immediately tried to get rid of Tim the hard way, and I don’t think they spent a long time under the same roof until Bruce "died", and soon after Tim left (at least partially). 

Batman # 657. By Grant Morrison, art Andy Kubert and Jesse Delperdang.

Dick moved in with Damian and raised him (for about a year). When Bruce first came back he travelled with Batman Inc, and Dick and Damian continued to live together. There were times when you could find Bruce, Dick, Tim, Damian and Alfred in the Manor at the same time, but not living permanently together. 

Batman & Robin vol 1 # 20. By Peter J. Tomasi, art Patrick Gleason and Mick Gray.

Now, Flashpoint, New 52 and Rebirth makes it even more impossible to puzzle together a credible timeline for everything Bruce Wayne is supposed to have done and everyone's relationship with each other. We’ll end up with Jason being Robin for about a month... But, anyway...

At the start of New 52, Dick has gone back to Nightwing and moved into his own flat in Gotham. He’ll continue to move around in different cities so he’s clearly not living with any other Wayne. By then, Cassandra is retconned out of the family and I haven’t seen any sign that Jason lives at the Manor with Bruce and Damian (and I don’t know about Tim either).

Fast forward into Rebirth, and Duke Thomas stayed and trained with Bruce for a while. If any of the other kids lived there at the same time is anybody's guess, but you can see the whole Bat-family (including, for instance, Stephanie Brown and Luke Fox) share a happy meal in the Manor, so at least they socialize from time to time. I’ve read somewhere that Duke since has moved in with relatives.

In canon right now, as far as I can make out, the only one who (at least sometimes and varying between the books) lives with Bruce and Alfred in the Manor is Damian. 

Another fanon exaggeration on the opposite part of the scale, in my opinion, is the penchant for portraying Dick and Jason's relationship as extremely bad from the start.

There are three different versions of how they met before Flashpoint. The first time, when Jason was a circus-boy Dick clone, Dick originally wanted to take him in, but Bruce stepped in instead (DC needed a new Robin for Batman, after all). The second time, Bruce had fired Dick from Robin because he was shot by the Joker and then promptly picked up Jason, after Dick had left. The third time (Nightwing Year One), Bruce fired Dick and kicked him out (I tend to ignore this version mostly, to be honest, because Bruce is ridiculously much of an ass here) and then, as you know, took in Jason.

And it's not that Dick loves Jason straight away, or the fact Bruce took in a new Robin by the blink of an eye, in the two later versions. But he still gives Jason his old Robin suit and his phone number in version two and in version three, they part on decent terms, and Dick tells Bruce (by recording) that he could have done worse.

After that, they hardly meet before Jason is killed because Dick is working with the Titans and doesn't live in Gotham. Pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths Jason helped the New Teen Titans a few issues (Dick was busy getting in the hands of Brother Blood and being brainwashed, at the time) in New Teen Titans vol 2 # 20–31. And there is a snapshot of Dick and Jason hanging out as civilians in Nightwing vol 2 issue 63. That's about it. 

Nightwing vol 2 # 63. By Chuck Dixon, art Trevor McCarthy and Karl Kesel. 

Then, of course, Jason came back from the dead slightly unhinged (2005). I don't know the whole picture of meetings or confrontations between the Bat-kids between Jason's comeback and Flashpoint (2011). I do know he dressed up as Nightwing and killed people in Nightwing vol 2 # 118–122. When Jason was abducted, Dick struggled a bit with the question "Is it ethical for me to save someone who's a danger to society?" before he went to save Jason. In the end, Jason sends a telegram where he says "Thanks for coming for me, brother. I know we don't agree on much. I just wanted to believe we could be family again." Tim and Dick also had a confrontation with Jason in Teen Titans (2003) # 47, and Dick and Jason had a not very amicable meeting in the Outsiders v 3 # 44.

Nightwing vol 2 # 118 –122. By Bruce Jones, art Joe Dodd, Paco Diaz, BIT and Nathan Massengill. 

And then we have Battle for the Cowl, where Jason shot Damian, left Tim for dead and tried to kill Dick after he had refused to become Robin to Jason's Batman. (I guess there are Jason fans out there who think that Dick was not justified to put Jason in jail after that. Obviously, I'm not one of them, but if anyone dislikes these years in canon and decides to ignore it to the best if their ability, who am I to judge?)

So, the Wayne boys definitely had a partly antagonistic, partly close, partly distant relationship. After Flashpoint, I think it has in been portrayed as better. At least, I haven't seen them try to kill each other...  Tim calls Damian "gremlin", Jason is Damian's secret mentor (or so I've seen somewhere), they sometimes meet on the rooftops and work together. On the other hand, the previously close relationship between Dick and Tim seems pretty much forgotten. (Let's hope they start remembering that soon again.)

Detective Comics # 975. By James Tynion IV, art Raul Fernandez and Alvaro Martinez.

Somewhere in Batman and Robin Eternal, Jason says that Tim is the only of the other Robins that he likes. (I honestly don't know where that came from, I never noticed them seeing eye to eye before. Still, it's not like I've read every Bat comic ever printed. But then, I rather believe the same goes for a number of DC writers... Edit: I’ve been informed that it’s probably from a flashback in an issue of Red Hood and the Outlaws.) In RH and the outlaws annual 1 (I think that’s the only issue of that series I’ve read, to be honest), Jason narrates that there was a time when he would have killed Dick on sight. "Not my proudest moment. We've made up since then." They have a complicated relationship, but they are still somehow clearly brothers, and Jason thinks back to when he saw the Flying Graysons perform and how Dick was a hero to him then (another retcon after Flashpoint).  As far as I know, it's the only post-Flashpoint retelling of how Jason and Dick met, and the story is that Alfred puts Jason in Dick's room so he wouldn't have to clean a new one. Dick is not happy to find someone in his bed when he comes home to visit. They fight. Honestly, I can't imagine Alfred doing that, so that's one version of the canon I’m happy to overlook...

On the other hand, we have Jason and Dick hanging out on the rooftops in Blüdhaven in Nightwing vol 4 # 15, and Dick, Jason and Damian certainly bicker like siblings (together with Duke) in Batman vol 3 # 16 and # 33.

Nightwing vol 4 # 15. By Tim Seeley, art Minkyu Jung. 

Batman vol 3 # 16. By Tom King, art David Finch. 

On the whole, I think the only thing you can be sure of about the relationships between the Wayne family members these days is that it varies quite a bit between titles and writers and has had its ups and downs over the years. But that they have never lived together as one big, happy family.

Of course, all this is based on the comic books I’ve read, and there might very well be stories out there that paint a different picture. But on the whole, I’m pretty confident that this panel is about as close to a happy family gathering we’ve seen. And then it’s not only the Waynes but the Bat family.

Batman and the Signal. By Scott Snyder and Tony Patrick, art Cully Hamner.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Little Touch of Heaven; 2

A/n: You guys wanted a part two so here you go!

Member: Lee Felix

THIS IMAGINE CONTAINS TRIGGER WARNING CONTENT

WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, talk of cutting, scars, mentions of violence, angst, sad baby felix

Summary: The longest night of Y/n’s life was the night she confessed to the boy who called her ‘angel’. She didn’t expect to see him almost killed right before her eyes. Things have been left unexplained and all she can do is wait to see Felix, hoping and praying he is okay.

Genre: angst, badboy!au, romance, strangers to lovers

PART 1

I was in a daze. My mind was foggy as I tried to remember what happened just a few hours ago. The skin under my eyes and cheeks felt tight from crying and the bruise that was probably forming. The room was a harsh light gray color. Much brighter than the sky outside. All I could do was stare at the other side of the wall while I waited for someone to come in and talk to me. Flashes of red and blue crossed my memory. Felix on the ground. Not moving. Two men in uniform pulling the man off of me and Felix. My body felt sore and sluggish. From the lack of sleep or the beating I didn’t know. And I didn’t mind.

The door opened, but I couldn’t find the will to look over. “Miss L/n?” I nodded still tired. A man in his mid thirties or forties sat in front of me. “You mind answering a few questions?” I shook my head as he gently passed me a cup of water that I very much needed. “Where is that man?” My jaw clenched as the words fell from my mouth. “Mr. Lee? He is in our custody right now.”

“Lee….Oh god….his father….” I don’t know why I didn’t realize. Everything made sense. The bruises. The cuts. Him not wanting to go home. Dinners at the store. The backpack. “What was your relationship to the boy?” What was I to Felix? I loved him I knew that. I was almost certain he loved me. “Ms. L/n?”

“Yes. Sorry. I was… I’m his…we’re…involved? Sorry I’m having trouble with my words right now.” “That’s to be expected.” I took another drink from the glass and tried to keep my composure. I was sure the man said his name earlier when I was brought in, but I couldn’t seem to remember it. “So, how long have you and Lee Felix been involved. I don’t know why these questions were so difficult for me to answer. “I’ve known him for about a month or two.” He nodded and I couldn’t help but look down at my hands.

“Was there any evidence of abuse.” Felix stood before me in the store. That tiny smile that didn’t reach his eyes highlighted the bruise under his eye and the cut on his lips. When he lay on my bed with black and blue marks painted across his ribs. The gash on his back. “Yes. There were-I knew in the back of my mind-but he didn’t want to talk about it.” 

“How many times did you see Felix with an injury of any kind?”

“Three times.”

“And you had never met his father or been to his house?”

“No.”

I felt useless. Like I knew everything and nothing about Felix. I knew the things that I thought mattered, but I didn’t know the things this man said would help him. When the glass was empty and his questions finished the man sat in silence before me. “How old are you?” He asked. There was pure curiosity in his voice. “Seventeen…” “You are very strong to be in this situation and be acting the way you are.”

“To tell you the truth, sir. I’m terrified. I just watched someone I care about more than myself get beaten by his parent. I’m terrified. I don’t know how long its been since I’ve seen him, where he is or if he’s okay.” He nodded listening to me talk and handed me a tissue. I didn’t even realize I was crying. “He is at St. Mercy’s Hospital. I’ll give you a ride there.”

He gave me a comforting smile and helped me up from the chair. I avoided the staring eyes of the people in the police department as the man led me out of the precinct. Glancing at his badge, I saw his name was Inspector Chwe Yuseok. It was almost twilight when we walked outside. He opened the passenger side door for me and we both headed off to the hospital.

We rode in silence. I watched the clock on his dashboard, maybe hoping it would speed up if I stared. But it stayed 3:54 for a minute, and then the red digital numbers changed to 3:55. I watched until he parked in front of the hospital. The two of us must have been a sight to see. A hardened detective and a beaten teenage girl walking side by side into the hospital.

Inspector Chwe showed his badge at the front desk and was told what floor to go to. He motioned for me to follow into the elevator. I didn’t understand why he was going to all this trouble. A nice person would have simply called me a cab. Maybe paid the fair. He watched the floors go up much like I did the clock. 

“Here we are.” The doors opened to the fifth floor. He led me to the desk and looked towards the nurse behind it. “Hello. We are looking for Lee Felix.” He showed her the badge and she typed in the computer. “He is in room E107. You can go in, but she can’t.” She sadly looked at me and then back to the detective.

“Why can’t I go in? I want to see him!” I didn’t mean to yell at her, but I was tired and wanted to see Felix. She stayed calm, most likely used to this response. “I’m sorry, Miss. Only family members can go in now. You’ll have to wait until regular visiting hours at nine o’clock. Besides the he just got out of surgery ten minutes ago.” I ran a hand through my hair. The irony was terrifying.

“Ma’am the boy’s father is in custody and he has no mother. As far as we know she is the closest thing to family he has.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t let her in. She is free to wait over there and we will do everything we can to make her comfortable.” She motioned to a waiting area filled with chairs and a tv mounted to the wall. Only one other man about twenty years old sat there. “Thank you for your help.” She nodded with a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ll let you know when you can go in and see him.” Dejectedly I shuffled over to the chairs and sat down pulling my knees into my chest. Surprisingly, the detective sat down next to me. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have a job to do?” He shrugged and crossed his legs. A silence passed for a moment while my thoughts festered and became clear. I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I thought about Felix alone in that room.

“You knew I wouldn’t be able to see him.” I looked to Inspector Chwe sadly. He nodded without looking at me.”I’ve been in your position before.” I waited for him to continue. “My best friend, when I was about your age, got into a car crash with a drunk driver. We were coming back from a party and I was following in the car behind him. Saw it all happen. The guy just drove off.” He messed with the watch on his wrist before looking at me. “At the hospital they wouldn’t let me see him. When visiting hours rolled around they let me speak to him. An hour later he died in surgery.” I hugged my knees tighter to my chest.

“Something about your friend reminds me of Yojoon. I don’t think it will end the same way though.” He gently placed a hand on my knee. He had a fatherly air about him. Something that made me comfortable around him. “Do my parents know what happened?” He nodded. “They were notified. I told them you were with me at the hospital.” I nodded and leaned my head against the wall. 

“When was the last time you slept?” I tried to back to when I woke up yesterday. It seemed like eons ago. “My shift ended at two yesterday and I woke up at six.” He nodded. “Get some rest. We’ve easily got five hours to wait before you can see him.” With that, I fell asleep in the uncomfortable jail, hoping to have a dreamless sleep.

A hand shook me awake. My eyes looked down to see Inspector Chwe’s jacket covering me as I slept at an awkward angle in the chair. “She said we can go in.” Quickly I handed him his jacket and brushed my messy hair our of my face. I was sure I looked terrible, but I didn’t care. Sprinting down the hall, my tired eyes searched the room plates, looking for E107. I slid open the door to reveal an almost dark room. All the lights were turned off, but the light from the window cast a gray light into the area.

Out of breath I walked to the bed. Felix lay there with his eyes closed in a hospital gown and blanket pulled halfway up his chest. An IV was in his arm and he had a slow steady heartbeat sounding on the monitor. His dusty blonde hair was a mess, and even sleeping he looked stressed. It made tears fall onto my cheeks. There was a chair by the bed and I sat down in it. I was afraid to touch him. He had been hiding so much pain from me. His slim fingers were cool to the touch. My hands enveloped his as I stared at him with tears falling onto the sheets.

I brought his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to each one of his bruised knuckles and closed my eyes. “Did you miss me, angel?” My eyes opened to reveal Felix with a small smile on his face. “I’m to relieved to say no.” I couldn’t help but smile down at him, unconsciously running my thumb over his hand. “Come here,” He pulled me closer to him and tenderly kissed my lips. His cool hand cupped my cheek keeping me close to him. I pulled away from him to kiss his cheeks and every inch of skin I could, before returning to his lips.

“Y/n,” 

“What?”

Only a couple of inches separated us, but they felt like miles.

“How can I love you when I’ve only known you a couple of months.” 

His voice was raspy and low. He had a small smile that reached his eyes. “You love me?” Felix nodded and stroked a tear from my cheek. “Stop crying angel, I’m okay.”

“You most certainly are not okay.” I turned to see Inspector Chwe and a nurse. “Don’t let this boy lie to you. No matter how cute he is!” The nurse said with a smile. “Are you the girlfriend?” “I don-” “Yes, she is. This is Y/n.” I pulled away from Felix and sat back in the chair, his fingers intertwined with mine.  Hearing the words from his lips caused a heat to quickly creep up my cheeks.

“Well, Felix, you might not remember me, but I was the nurse who took care of you before surgery.“ He nodded and looked to Inspector Chwe not recognizing the man. “I’m Inspector Chwe assigned to the case. I brought Y/n here this morning.” With a nod the nurse continued and explained to me Felix’s condition. He had several broken ribs and the surgery earlier this morning had fixed some severe internal bleeding. Along with all of that she said that he also had a concussion.

Felix squeezed my hand as I listened intently. “So, how much is this going to cost?” There was a strain in his voice as he spoke to her. “Well we will definitely want to keep you here for about a week.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. We both knew that he couldn’t afford to stay here for even a single night. “Can you give us a moment?” The inspector asked politely. She bowed and closed the door as she left. “I’m screwed.” I held his hand even tighter as he rested his head against the pillow. “We’ll figure something out, okay?” I could pick up more shifts at the store! But that wouldn’t even cover half the cost of the hospital bill, let alone what the court fees would be. “I’ll ask my parents-” “Angel, they’ve never even met me. Why would they do that?” “I can cover your bill.” We both turned in surprise to the Inspector. “Sir-” “It’s no trouble. Really!”

 My mind slipped back to the conversation we had back in the waiting room. There was a softness in Mr. Chwe’s eyes as he looked at Felix. I started to wonder how much Felix and Yojoon actually looked alike. “I won’t take no for an answer.” A smile grew across Felix’s face, one that reached all the way to his eyes. “Thank you, sir! I have no idea how to repay you.”

 Before the Inspector left he pulled me to the side. “Here.” He handed me a clean white business card with his email and phone number on it. “You need anything at all, either of you, don’t hesistate to call.” I bowed and took the card thanking him profusely. Something about Mr. Chwe made him feel like a guardian watching over Felix and me. 

 The next week was a struggle. I had to go back to school three days later, but every free moment was spent by Felix’s side until the nurses forced me to go home. My parents stopped by a couple of times and were very kind to Felix. The day Felix was supposed to be released I arrived outside of the hospital to find him being carried out in a wheelchair. He smiled when he saw me. Carefully the nurses helped him up and carried his things to the cab I had waiting. After safely getting him in we both took off in the car down the street. “Where are we going, Felix?” Obviously we couldn’t go to his house. It was still under police jurisdiction and I imagined it was the last place he wanted to be. He thought for a second before telling the cabbie an address. His thin fingers held onto mine throughout the ride. His gaze was fixed out the window watching all the people walk down the streets of Seoul.

 It was early evening when we reached our destination. Getting out of the car, I looked up to see a two story building marked as a dance studio. Helping Felix out of the car, he slowly approached the door and unlocked it. “Come on, angel.” Shouldering his backpack I followed him inside the dark studio. He limped and shuffled to the backroom while I stayed and looked at the pictures on the wall. My eyes fell on a photo of two boys in mid choreo. On the right was a tall and slim boy with jet black hair and elf like features. Next to him was Felix with a bright smile on his face. He looked so happy. Calm. Like a normal boy. There were other pictures mostly containing the same bunch of boys with Felix scattered about.

 I jumped at the feeling of hands wrapping themselves around my waist. I relaxed into Felix’s touch as he rested his head in the crook of my neck. Instinctively my hand went to softly curl in his blonde hair. For a moment we just stood there, completely content with this little bit of normalcy. I started to understand why he appreciated the things I though plain and boring. Felix lived a painful life and normalcy was like a tiny piece hope for him. A glimpse of what he could only ever dream about. “I love you….” he whispered in his low voice.

 They always talk about the knot in your stomach and the feeling when someone says they love you. Like a good kind of tension. In reality, my whole body felt like liquid. Ready to shape itself to whatever he needed. Like a numbess throughout my entire body. Forty years later I wouldn’t remember the first time Felix told me he loved me, but I would remember this one. Every sound in the quiet studio. Each touch of his fingers on my stomach. Remembering that in all the pain he must have been feeling, his desire to keep me close overpowered all of it. Remembering how normal it felt to be in his arms and hearing those words, though unfamiliar.

In his arms, I could see the future. Images of him away from all of this with me by his side. The scars almost fully healed, and stood as a reminder of his tribulations. I could see what he wanted. That normal, simple life. It made me smile. My fingers rubbed his arms tightly wrapped around my stomach, feeling the marks and scars that still lay there. This wasn’t the end of his story. It wasn’t the end of mine either. 

The both of us still had miles and eons left to travel. Six years later, Felix again rushed to the hospital. He burst through the doors leaving two of his friends trailing behind after him. “Where is she?” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the nurses’ stationn. “I’m sorry, sir. Who?”

“Y/n. Where is she?”

“Last name?”

“She came in six hours ago! Where is she?”

A toned arm gently pulled on Felix’s shoulder. “Hey, calm down. It’s okay.” Changbin always knew how to calm him down even in the hardest times. The other boy with them, Chan, spoke calmly and politely to the nurse. “We are looking for Lee Y/n.” She nodded and pointed to a room down the hall. It took all in Felix’s body not to sprint down the passageway. Chan opened the door for him to enter and he stopped and stared at the sight before him.

Seeing him I smiled and motioned him closer. “Yuseok came before you. I’m not surprised, though.” I pointed to the man in his late forties now who sat in corner of the room. He still had the same kind smile as the first time the two of us were in this hospital. “Of course I came. A god father must be present at a joyous occasion like this!” Felix smiled brightly, his eyes twinkling as he looked at the baby laying in my arms. 

“How are you doing, angel?” His fingers stroked my hair but his eyes never left the child. “I’m fine. I was a little worried you wouldn’t be able to get away from the tour.” He chuckled and I could see tears at the edge of his eyes. Felix had cried many times in front of me. But, the tears of joy hat trickled down his cheeks were more beautiful than anything I had ever imagined. There was true love in his eyes as he looked down at the baby.

“Felix,” Softly I handed the new born to him. The look of shock on his face was evident as he cradled the child into his chest. “Meet our son, Yojoon.” In the corner a bitter sweet smile rested on the Inspector’s lips as he watched the two of us and our newborn son. Ever since that night Chwe Yuseok had stood by and aided us in every time of need. He grew to be like a father to Felix and me. Without him our son wouldn’t be here.

“It’s like....” 

Felix struggled with his words as he looked down at his son. My fingers trailed softly over his arms, a loving habit I had picked up over the years. The scars were mostly healed and now only represented a part of his past that he had left behind.

“It’s like I’m holding the tiniest piece of heaven. Don’t you think, angel?”

I nodded and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“You couldn’t convince me otherwise.”

Thanks guys so much for reading! Don’t forget requests are open for mutliple groups! 

Masterlist

[eatbreathewrite]

The Adventures of Todd and Granny

(Alternatively: “I Saw Granny Ethel with the Devil”)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Luck

The first time this colorful group entered the town’s local bingo hall, it hadn’t been the best of days.

The host had difficulties overcoming Todd the Demon’s hulking presence and couldn’t call out numbers without shaking and stuttering, and eventually just ran from the building altogether mid-game with a gaggle of players right behind him, and there’s no playing bingo when there’s no one else around.

There still aren’t any other players around when the group decides to drop by today.

But the new host is blind as a bat save for whatever is a foot directly in front of him and he drones on without a care, calling out numbers without lifting his eyes from the computer screen that lotteries out the next. And the next. And the next.

Now, it’s the final round of the day.

Todd, sitting at the small round table that seats four (and only four, in the center of the large room with a dozen other abandoned tables around it), holds the tiny card marker in his large claws, stamping down a neon green dot on B-5—the only successful spot on his card, so far, in any round.

Granny Ethel, though, is on fire. Only two diagonal squares away from her third solid BINGO and focusing intently, awaiting the host to call out O-8 and I-23 so she can claim that nice floral area rug sitting pretty on the grand prize table.

Sam and Todd have already agreed between themselves to help Granny Ethel get whichever prizes she wants if they happen to get a BINGO first.

Her only obstacle in this is Theodore—who only needs one more space to land his second BINGO for the day. Unlike Granny Ethel, his eyes are set on a shiny new tablet and he’s intent on claiming it.

Of course it’s all randomized and comes down to luck, but he could do a little better to be a team player. Especially after the lawnmower incident.

Todd could be mistaken, but he doesn’t think he is—Theodore has yet to earnestly apologize to Granny Ethel, and almost an entire month has gone by since then. Honestly. It’s as if he thinks everyone will forget if he just never brings it up again and it will all go away. Well—the salvaged lantana cuttings are sprouting speckled orange and yellow, at least, but it will take a while before they can be transplanted and grow back to their full glory again.

Maybe Todd will be lenient, and give Theodore until then to deliver said apology.

Maybe not.

Granny Ethel gives a little cheer as the next number called lands her another spot on her diagonal almost-BINGO. One more to go!

The same number is on Sam’s card, too, but he’s dozing off and already dropped the card marker back onto the table. Todd nudges aside one of his brown arms and puts a green dot on the center top row for him. He’s closer to a BINGO than Todd is.

The caller clears his throat, taking a moment to cough hoarsely into a polka-dotted handkerchief—then cough again, and once more, before squinting down at the computer screen and doling out the next number.

“Oh! Bingo! Bingo!” Granny Ethel yells, shooting up from her seat and waving her card in the air, moving faster than Todd has ever seen her move (she does, really and truly, get absorbed in the competition).  

Her shout rouses Sam from his nap and he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. “Nice job, Granny. That flower carpet is totally yours. Hope it fits in the car, though… Well, if it doesn’t, we can just walk and carry it home for you.”

A big, happy smile spreads across her face as she shimmies around the table and darts forward to the host with card in hand, moving so fast she’s a blue blur in her loose, long-skirted lilac-print dress.

Theodore crosses his arms and pouts, huffing an extremely audible sigh. Always a sore loser, that one.

But, well, it’s their final game of the week, and it’s only fitting that Granny Ethel’s win ends it. The host approves her BINGO and waves her along to the prize table, where she collects her new floral rug in her arms with an elated, toothy smile. It’s a bit much for her to carry, taller even than the white poofs of hair on her head, so Todd holds out his hands and she passes the bundle over to him with thanks.

“Oh, this will look just lovely in my bedroom!” she says brightly, hands clasped together as she shuffles along beside him. “Sam, dear, do you think we have time to redecorate before you give us all a macramé lesson?”

“Definitely! There’s always time to help you out, Granny.” Sam nods pleasantly as they approach his car, which beeps as he unlocks it with his key fob. “I don’t think I’ve seen your room before. It’s the one at the back of the house, right?” He pops the trunk and looks over his shoulder at the carpet in Todd’s hands, and nods again. “Yep; it’ll fit.”

“That’s right. I’m afraid it’s become a bit cluttered—I don’t even let Todd clean it on chore days.”

“No way—Granny, are you a hoarder?”

“Haven’t you seen her house?” Theodore grunts as Todd’s sharp elbow bumps into him, but all he does is roll his eyes in response and skulk to his usual place in the back seat of Sam’s old, half-painted, half-sanded sedan from a year Todd isn’t even sure he remembers. Not bothering to help.

Well, that’s typical Theodore.

Todd finagles the rolled-up carpet into the trunk space, making sure not to crumple or cram it, careful not to upset Sam’s menagerie of old sneakers, a lumpy gym bag, and pile of wadded-up shirts, and closes the trunk securely over it all, satisfied. Then he escorts Granny Ethel to the other side of the car and helps her climb into the back seat opposite her grandson.

He’d let her take shotgun, but there are only a few places he can rightly fit in the small car, and that just so happens to be the front passenger seat. It’s low enough that he only has to hunker down and bow his head and horns just so that they don’t scrape the top and not uncomfortably fold himself up like he would in the back.

Ah, if only Sam had a convertible.

Thankfully, the bingo hall isn’t too far from Granny Ethel’s house—nothing is, really, in this small town, where the edge is only a ten minute car ride in any direction, but when they travel in such a large group, and when Sam offers, some days it’s just easier to drive. Especially when the grey clouds hanging overhead droop and sag, heavy with rain ready to fall at any moment.

(Sometimes Granny Ethel’s bones ache on days like this, too—she never says it, but they all know.)

They hurry into the house, with bingo prize in hand, and Granny Ethel’s first stop is the kitchen, because everyone is parched and in need of a celebratory midday snack. She and Todd had mixed up a nice pitcher of peach tea the day before, and it’s just wonderful on ice, garnished even with tiny lemon slices on the glass rims. That morning, Sam brought iced donuts along, and half of the box still remains for snack time.  

Todd tucks the rolled-up rug safely into a corner and sits down to enjoy a chocolate-iced donut while Granny Ethel chatters on about which TV programs they’re set to watch today, and about how she’s always considered trying macramé but just never had the chance. Sam, though, is a pro, and has been practicing it since his mom taught him when he was young. Apparently he is a master at weaving hanging basket cradles for plants.

Theodore, sitting crammed between Todd and Sam’s broad shoulders (though one set broader than the other) broods in silence, barely touching even a single rainbow sprinkle on his pink-frosted donut. Barely touching his peach iced tea.

The small, round kitchen table has become quite cramped with their new population.

Moving through the halls is just as cramped, now, with two fully-grown men and a hulking demon trying to make their way through. It doesn’t help that the hallways are narrow, but at least the bedrooms are bigger and easier to navigate.

Granny Ethel’s room is the largest in the house. Quaint and cozy, with a full-sized bed set against the center of the far wall, between two curtained, arched windows.

And hanging above said bed, on said wall, is a sight Todd thought he’d seen the last of: the old, rusted scythe from the back yard.

Hung up like a trophy, or a prized possession even—only, it’s no longer rusted. It’s clean and polished, with its metal blade shining under the ceiling light, sharp and dangerous as a new cutlery knife. Totally out of place among the knitted and crocheted throw blankets and covered pillows and tapestries and embroideries dotted around the room. Completely out of place among the precious miniature porcelain trinkets crammed along the tops of dressers and shelves, and the decorative plates lining the highest shelves up near the ceiling.

It draws all of their attention except Granny Ethel’s, who doesn’t seem to mind, who overlooks it as another decoration among many.

“I think that rug will look just wonderful in the center of the room, don’t you think, dears?” She perches daintily on the edge of her bed, one hand on her lower back, and smiles at the space of carpet in front of her slippered feet. “The florals match the wallpaper!”

Todd meets Sam’s eyes for a moment, and the message passes through despite the communication barrier, though at times Todd thinks Sam has telepathy for how in-tune he is to most of his thoughts.

But now, the thought is plain as day. Theodore’s eyes, gleaming with that strange little light that mean he’s plotting, always plotting, linger on that scythe for an uncomfortable stretch of time, and though they’d both agreed to keep a close eye on the man, they decide to keep an even closer watch on him while in this room.

“They do match, Granny,” Sam agrees with a little smile, taking one end of the rolled-up rug to help Todd set it down on the floor. “That’s some theme you’ve got going on in here.”

“Charles picked out the florals. I wasn’t always so fond of them, you know. He brought so much color and beauty into my life, and now I can’t bear to get rid of it…” She toys with the fine, silver band around her left ring finger, eyes looking far, far away, seeing something other than the two men and one demon through her thick lenses.

It isn’t often she speaks of Charles, and they all, every one of them, know better than to bring up the subject. It’s an unspoken rule that only Granny Ethel is allowed to speak of him.

The little floral area rug fits perfectly on the floor, not covering too much, not covering too little. None of the edges hit the bed or the dresser, but they do curl up from being rolled for so long. Todd stamps his hooves on the ends to flatten them down—and it works better than steam roller.

Sam brushes his hands clean of imaginary dust, job well done, and claps. “Alright! How’s that look, Granny?”

“Oh, it’s perfect! Thank you so much for helping, dears. It’s such a lovely design I might just have to find a matching one for the sitting room. The one we have there now is looking a bit threadbare these days. But I digress. Today is a macramé day! Oh, I’ve never done that kind of craft before. What are we making?”

“I was thinking we could make hanging baskets for the lantanas. Y’know, before we transplant them back into the garden. I brought rope and beads and all kinds of stuff to make some cool hangers! Plenty of black for you, too, Todd.”

And so, they continue their day by learning macramé, courtesy of Sam and his unexpected talents.

It’s when night falls, when all are safely tucked away in bed (Sam included, because it’s the weekend, and weekends allow for sleepovers Granny Ethel is more than enthusiastic to host, because she’d missed having a full house), that Todd realizes Theodore had snuck away at some point during their weaving lessons—even just for a bathroom break, letting him out of their sight was a mistake.

Now, certainly, he’s snoozing away at the top of the bunk bed they share, and Sam is tucked away in the far corner of the room with a plushy sleeping bag, but all jolt awake when a thump and a startled cry ring out through the house.

Todd is the first to reach her room. He hesitates at the closed door, just for a split-second, if only to steel himself for what he might see (because that scythe did look stable, where it hung, but what if—what if someone did something to it and—?) before barreling through it with every ounce of bravery he possesses.

The scythe had fallen.

Its sharp tip lay embedded in the soft pillows where Granny Ethel’s head most certainly might have rested, once. Cut right through, as easy as a hot knife sinks through butter.

“Granny—!” Sam gasps out.

But Granny Ethel’s head is not there—and neither is her body. In fact, she’s standing safe and sound, with both hands pressed against her mouth, just beside the bed. Fully intact. Safe.

Safe.

“Oh,” she pauses, hands falling away from her face, but hovering in front of it, still, before falling to her heart. “I was certain I’d placed it up on that wall securely.” She blinks, eyes moving from the fallen scythe to the brackets on the wall—one of which had snapped off and lay useless on top of the soft and numerous blankets covering her bed—then to the three gathered at the door, two mostly concealed behind Todd’s large body.

Todd doesn’t waste a moment. His hand finds the back of Theodore’s neck, grips his shirt collar, and he propels him forward, into the room like a badly behaved animal made to stand before its mistake.

“I didn’t—” he starts to say, squirming like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, feet barely touching the ground, but Todd won’t hear it. He drops him heavy to the floor and points at the scene, eyes livid, feeling a bubbling, frothing rage that heated him like the fire and brimstone of hell—for the first time in quite a while.

“I-I really didn’t do it!” Theodore hisses, shrinking in on himself as Todd’s hulking form blocks the exit, and Granny Ethel’s small form boxes him on from the other side. “I—”

She clears her throat before anything more could be said.

“Dears,” she says in her soft voice, and no matter how soft it is, it always catches their attention as clear as a blaring horn. She leaves it at that, for a moment, as they all three freeze and look to her, obedient, watching as she picks up the scythe by its handle and eases it out of the downy feathers and cotton, holding it between her fingers like it’s made of delicate glass.

“You never have to worry about me. You see, I am blessed with incredible luck. Please, go on back to bed. I’ll take care of this.” A small, serene smile crosses her face—as kind as any of the others, but hiding something underneath.

Something like a secret Todd knows he has to uncover before anything like this ever happens again.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Please more of artist Jamie!!! So beautiful!

Follow up to this story

--

January 1976

 Elias Pound had known Mandy MacKenzie for all of fourmonths – but he already knew he’d gladly follow her anywhere.

 So when she proposed they spend an evening at a downtownart gallery – in a neighborhood she called SoHo (“But we have one of those inLondon,” he had protested – and she’d replied “This one has a capitalized H,silly goose”) – he immediately leapt at the chance to be with her. Even if itmeant following her on the subway (“Don’t you have one of those in London?” shehad teased), gaping at the half-beautiful, half-terrifying graffiti scrawledover the walls and seats and windows and exterior of the cars, stepping around thegarbage and panhandlers on the platform at Times Square and Grand Central whenthey transferred from the 1 to the Shuttle and then to the 6.

 Once above ground at Spring Street, he thought she’d madea mistake – for the neighborhood appeared to be stone dead, even at arelatively early hour.

 “Where is everybody?” Elias dug his hands into thepockets of his peacoat, pulse rocketing from a mix of fear and sheer joy asMandy slipped her mitten-clad hand through his arm.

 “Barely anyone lives down here,” she explained, lookingboth ways before stepping off the curb. “It’s mostly artists and galleries.They love the big old buildings – fantastic twenty-foot ceilings in the rooms.”

 A cab appeared out of nowhere, horn blaring. Mandy tuggedhis arm to stop – and the cab squealed by, the driver hurling obscenities.Calmly Mandy kept walking down Broadway, turning right onto Prince Street.

 “And how did you find out about this exhibit?”

 His eyes darted over to her; she just smiled and keptwalking.

 “Here we are!”

 And they were – for in the first sign of life since they’dleft the subway, a line snaked out of an industrial metal doorway and aroundthe corner. Elias could only see a tiny sign above the door – The Broch Gallery – and a burly man outfront, clearly the security guard.

 Elias steeled himself to wait outside in the cold –regretting he hadn’t brought his knit cap – but then Mandy marched right up tothe man at the door.

 “Hi – I’m Mandy MacKenzie,” she explained. “Elias here ismy guest. I should be on the list.”

 The man fished in his pocket and produced an index card;he squinted, looked up at Mandy, and nodded. “All set, miss. Coat check is onyour left.”

 “Thank you,” she smiled sweetly, taking Elias’ hand anddrawing him inside.

 A woman wearing black took their coats and handed themeach a small booklet. Before Elias could even glance at the cover, they turned anothercorner and came face-to-face with a panel of text on a gallery wall.

 JAMES FRASER: ART WITHOUT LIMIT, 1920-1975 – A RETROSPECTIVE

 Elias could see several dozen people milling around in atleast six adjacent galleries, sipping champagne, studying the walls intently.

 “Who’s James Fraser?” he whispered.

 Mandy looped her arm through his. “Someone I’ve admiredmy whole life. You’ll see why. Don’t bother reading the labels – I’ll be yourtour guide.”

 And she was.

 The first gallery displayed small pastels and watercolorsof New York City street scenes in the 1920s – old cars rumbling down widestreets, women in elegant dresses pushing old-fashioned baby carriages onsidewalks, children playing tag on a gorgeous summer day in Prospect Park, ruddy-facedmen toasting their joy in cavernous long-gone beer halls.

 These were interspersed with photographs. A combinationof society portraits and even more street scenes.

 “Is that the Flatiron Building?”

 “It is. Can you believe that it wasn’t yet twenty years oldwhen this photograph was taken? Even then it was still so controversial.”

 Elias tilted his head at a series of three of formal,posed paintings of different women. “Who were they?”

 “Wives of wealthy businessmen and lawyers.” Mandy noddeda thank-you to the woman who offered a tray of snacks. “He made a good livingas a portraitist. Back in the day, that was a way for men to show how muchmoney they had – by paying an artist to paint their wives. Even after photographybecame popular – they still insisted on it.”

 Elias chewed thoughtfully. “I’d think it still is a wayfor men to show how much money they have. Someone I went to school with – I rememberthere was a painting of his mother in the house. I never quite understood it.”

 Mandy led them to the next room – and Elias’ jaw justabout dropped.

 It was another portrait – but so radically different fromwhat he had just seen.

 A beautiful woman – her curly brown hair rioting aroundher ethereal face – wearing a dress that could only be described as anincredible shade of electric blue. Surrounded by sumptuous plants andblue-and-white Chinese porcelain. Strongly, confidently facing the viewer – a hintof mischief evident on her perfect lips.

 “It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Mandy squeezed his hand. “Thiswas the first work that truly got him noticed.”

 “I should think so,” Elias breathed. “She’s – she’s so alive. So much more alive and presentthan in what we saw in the other room.”

 “The artistry is without comparison,” Mandy agreed. “But thescandal that surrounded the painting made it even more notorious.”

 “Scandal? What scandal? It’s a modest dress.”

 She shook her head. “This portrait was commissioned byFrank Randall, on the occasion of his wife Claire’s thirtieth birthday, in thefall of 1925.”

 “Frank Randall? As in Randall Steel? That Randall?”

 “The same,” she grinned. “Anyway – Claire Randall wasvery famous in New York society at the time for throwing very grand parties attheir townhouse on East Sixty-Eighth Street. Somehow James Fraser got aninvitation to one of their parties – and once Frank learned he was an artist,he commissioned him to paint Claire.”

 “I don’t see what’s so scandalous about that.”

 Mandy smirked above her flute of champagne. “Well – you canimagine that Claire got to know the artist quite well as he painted herportrait. So well that when the painting was delivered to the Randalltownhouse, she told Frank she was leaving him, packed her bags, and moved inwith Jamie.”

 “Oh my God!” Elias exclaimed. “Did she take the portraitwith her?”

 “Of course! It hung in Jamie’s studio on East TwelfthStreet for many years.”

 “And did they stay together?”

 Mandy set down her empty flute on a passing waiter’s tray,and took Elias’ half-empty flute. “See for yourself.”

 The next gallery was full of Claire Randall. Oilpaintings of her draped in a Japanese kimono. Pastel drawings of her reclining nudein bed, surrounded by rumpled sheets. Striking, black-and-white photographs ofher hands forming different shapes, and the curve of her spine, and the back ofher neck.

 “She was his muse,” Elias murmured.

 Mandy nodded. “My favorite is right over there.”

 It was a small photograph – just about as big as aletter-sized sheet of paper. At the bottom right of the frame was a reflectionof the old-style camera; at the middle of the frame was Claire caught mid-laugh;and peeking over her shoulder was a man – hair parted down one side, eyescreasing with laughter.

 “It’s called Joy;he took the photograph on their wedding day,” Mandy whispered. “In a publicbathroom at City Hall. Probably ten minutes after they exchanged vows.”

 Elias swallowed, his heart soaring at the explosion oflove and adoration captured so simply and elegantly in the photograph.

 “I’m surprised Randall gave her a divorce.”

 “Apparently she threatened to go to the papers with proofof all his affairs. My understanding is that it was settled quite quickly.”

 He wanted to know more – so very much more – but sheushered him into the next gallery.

 Here the artist’s style had clearly matured; thecityscapes were bolder in outline, brighter in their use of color.

 “He immigrated from Scotland as a very young man. But NewYork City has always been his home. His art documents what it’s like to livehere.”

 It did – subways, and buses, and even photographs ofairplanes landing at Kennedy or LaGuardia. Interspersed with photographs ofClaire as she got older – still smiling, now in color – in what appeared to bethe same East Twelfth Street studio.

 Before he knew it, they were in the last gallery. Whichheld a single artwork – another painting of Claire, posed almost identically asshe had been in the scandalous portrait. Surrounded by ferns, and Chineseporcelain; wearing another electric blue dress. Her face had more wrinkles, andher hair was gray – but she was still so vibrantly alive.

 Mandy withdrew her arm, but he didn’t realize she hadcompletely left his side until an unfamiliar voice spoke beside him.

 “Personally I prefer this one to the older one.”

 “I’d have to agree,” Elias remarked, turning to his newneighbor. “In fact – ”

 He froze.

 “It’s you,” he croaked.

 Claire Fraser – hair still curly after all these years,wearing a bright green dress and gorgeous silver jewelry – smiled.

 “It’s me,” she agreed. “Jamie painted this one to commemoratemy eightieth birthday last October – and, of course, the fiftieth anniversarysince the first one.”

 “Oh my God,” Elias breathed. “I – you – um, you are verybeautiful.”

 Then Mandy appeared, and slung an arm around Claire’sside. “Are you flirting with my grandma?”

 “Grandma?”

 “Come on, Mandy – you’ll make the poor man suffer a heartattack right here. I thought you told me you liked him.”

 Stupidly Elias stuck out one hand. “I’m Elias Pound.”

 Claire laughed. “Yes, I know. Mandy’s told us all aboutyou. You study engineering together, right?”

 “Always had a head for numbers, that one.” An older manappeared beside Claire, and kissed her cheek. “Just like our daughter – her Mam.God knows where she got that from.”

 Claire nodded at Elias. “Jamie, this is Elias.”

 Elias gulped. “H-hi,” he stammered.

 “Ach, no need to be shy, lad! I dinna bite.” Jamie Fraserheartily clapped Elias’ shoulder. “So – do ye like the paintings?”

 “Be honest,” Mandy teased.

 Elias cleared his throat. “I – um – yes. I’m stillgetting to know New York, and it’s so interesting to see how your workdocuments how the city has changed.”

 Jamie looked over at his granddaughter, one still-redeyebrow raised. “Very astute observation. Good that he appreciates things thataren’t numbers.”

 Mandy groaned. “Be nice, Grand-da. We go to museums allthe time – we get in for free with our student IDs.”

 Elias cleared his throat. “Also, sir, your work is one ofthe most honest and pure representations of love that I’ve ever seen. I – I can’tquite describe it, but I can just feelit pouring out of the frame. It makes my heart race. And that’s something thathasn’t changed – am I right?”

 Jamie and Claire and Mandy – she had Jamie’s eyes, herealized – looked at him, eyes wide. Quietly Mandy stepped forward to take hishand, squeezing it. So proud.

 “Thank you,” Jamie whispered, drawing Claire to his side.“You understand. She’s everything.”

 “Yes,” Elias agreed, looking at Mandy. “She is.”