#like the 'risen mitten'

[captainfairygodmother]

Throw a spaceship at Jack and Tosh, it would be over for the other three

The absolute crime that was Jack Harkness being a total enthusiastically knowledgable technology geek being written out of his character for torchwood. You wanna write a sex icon without his most attractive quality?? Come on now. Give the man his passion back.

[thoughtssvt]

heatwaves

nanami kento x reader

content : angst (mutual pining but the two of you are idiots), 2006/2007 jjk when kento and reader are both students, open ending (possible part 2)

You and Nanami were just friends. That's all you were. Nanami in front of Gojo, Geto and Shoko. Kento in the private of either your room or his or those fleeting moments in the common room where it was just the two of you and a conversation of whose room would be empty that night.

You just shared music tastes, that's all. Nights sprawled out on the bed a good distance apart so that his earbuds could stay in each of your ears– yours and Kento’s, one bud each– that was it. You'd fall asleep next to each other. Sometimes on accident. Waking up just early enough to catch his peaceful face, bangs pinned between the side of his head and the mattress, sure to be crimped in an awkward position off his scalp to which you'd never been able to hold in your laugh. But it was okay because as soon as the both of you had risen into a sitting position and the pink morning light seeped in through the blinds you’d see the shadows of his dimples and a teasing remark left his lips that your hair was in a similar god awful state.

Not much changed between the two of you when Haibara died. Except the feeling of your heart hiding deeper into your chest as you slipped out of Kento’s room bright and early, missing the way it thudded harder against your ribcage on those rare mornings you caught Haibara’s gaze as he stepped out of his own room.

You hadn’t known that Kento got an earful of teasing from your senpai– his room sandwiched between Haibara’s and Geto’s and Gojo’s, either one or both of your seniors catching a glimpse of your back as you fled the boy's wing– Kento feeling the need to clarify that you were just friends. He didn't want to give you the wrong impression.

You understood. You never got any ideas, in fact. Never let yourself that night you watched the sun set together, burnt orange warming his face as he panted in exhaustion, your chests heaving in sync, curse corpses dissolving into nothing around you. It was then as blood streaked down his face, eye squeezed shut to shield itself from the red, that he told you about the future he wanted.

He wanted to get married. He wanted a family. A cat to call Mittens because it looked like it was wearing a pair or a dog he didn't want on the bed, but knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without its presence radiating against the soles of his feet. Maybe even a fish in a tank that was one fish too big that would spit water at him every time he passed by. He wanted a house or maybe an apartment that was just enough so he could get there faster. To the future. Because he wanted all of it. After. Not in this life. Not when he had to wave his friends off before every mission not knowing if he would see them again.

You were just friends, that's what you told everyone. It was simpler that way. He'd answer your calls on your lonely walks home, as a friend. You’d burn CDs for him to listen to on his solo missions, as a friend. He knocked on your door the second you called to tell him the night was too heavy and when you heard about the failed mission you were already barreling through campus to get to him before you even heard about Haibara. As friends.

You made sure not to get the wires crossed, but you once joked that you saw each other more during the night than you did during the day and he told you that maybe it was because he needed the heat of the sun under the moonlight. Maybe you saw a sparkle a little too bright that night. You wouldn't dare call it love. Because you were just friends.

You wanted so badly to reach out to him, tell him to stay as you watched his figure diminish, his room empty, void of the memories that even hinted you could've been more, but of course you didn't. And maybe you could've taken the words out of his mouth when you walked in on him packing, his eyes pleading for you to do so, but you didn't.

Four years later he's in front of you. His hair short, form sturdier, sleek in a fitted suit and a gaudy tie you would've made fun of if your heart wasn't bursting with hope. For the first time out of all the others you wondered if you or him could get the wires crossed. If you were finally allowed to feel the heat under the daylight with him.

moon and sun dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

nanami x reader masterlist

A/N : ahhhh stop idek the funk i'm in. first it was Last Call now it's this. I heard a sound on tiktok that was just so nostalgic I had to write this. and Kento's just a tragedy and tragedies should be written about and felt. It pains me that he wanted a spouse and a family but he wanted to wait until he could leave the sorcerer life. I promise I have a fic where I give him happiness. why is it just so much harder to write (it's a long one, that's why it's taking so long). anyway... for those of you who have left requests in my ask box I promise i'll get to them, it's just been a long time since I didn't have to put projects before the ideas that I want to write and i'm in a learning curve of [trying] to improve my writing style. please feel free to keep leaving requests! i'll be doing them in the order they were received <3

[scarlovebot]

DIRTY HANDS

Natasha romanoff x female reader

Summary: Natasha is taken back by your dominant attitude

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

as the moonlight travels, a welcoming soft glow shimmers through the slight ajar curtains.

Beams of light pour into the almost silent bedroom, painting golden waterfalls across your Pictionary walls.

As the sunlight beams into your dazed eyes, squinting in satisfaction as the day has begun. With a slight groan escaping your lips, you unlace your hands turning swiftly to face the person who made everyday worth it.

you gaze upon the sleeping women in front of you, setting yourself the task of analysing every inch of her beauty.

the way her messy red hair framed her sharp jawline perfectly, making you melt right there and then.

Running your fingertips over the sight on display, tangling each finger into her locks, the softness reminding you of her tenderness.

her rough and bruised lips telling a thousand stories, some of which your yet to have heard. The assassin snored softly, whimpers eluded only leaving your mind to wonder, what she was dreaming about.

Natasha was a women who knew of her power, making those in her presence scramble to leave as quickly as possible.

But not you

Within the first couple encounters between the two of you, it’s was undeniable that the widow was meant to come into your life.

deep down inside, under all those battered layers you could see just how much she wanted to be loved. And in that moment you made a vow to be her constant, conveying the intimacy she craved and adoration all the time.

falling out of your daze, meeting with glistening emerald eyes which could easily be lost in.

Your hands found warmth, caressing her rosy cheeks then moving upwards to wipe away the sleep which littered around her sparkling globes.

the women hummed in a low tone, her voice still croaky from slumber

“are those hands cleans детка?” she questions with a risen eyebrow

Great, our soft moment was ruined with her dirty thoughts.

Your mouth agape

“Seriously Natasha, you’re worried about the cleanliness of my hands when you know exactly where they have been” proceeding to roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

The women had no right to make such a comment, she’s the one who’s draped over the bed in little to no clothing. At least you had the decency to cover up, even if it was a pair of Natasha’s underwear.

Although you knew she didn’t mean to be snarky, you decided to have your fun.

Using your dirty hands to roll over and push away from Natasha, finding a seat on the edge of the bed, only to leave her eyes staring at your naked back.

With a huff and puff, you placed both hands either side of the soft cotton sheets, in line with your hips with the intention of leaving the bed to further on the day.

before even testing out your leg strength you were violently pulled back down, your head nestling into Natasha’s torso.

A loud squeal escaped, followed by childlike giggles

you really couldn’t hold it together for 5 minutes.

“I’m sorry, I love your filthy hands” she spoke

Biting your lip, you question “is that so? Then why don’t you get your hands this filthy?” pointing at the women’s bare chest emphasising the fact that your always the one to end up with the dirty mittens.

Natasha’s eyes widen with torment, she secretly loved it when you’d become dominant. Even if it was for a short moment of time.

Her soft hands trail around your chest, she took this time to think about the situation: was it really her turn to quite literally get on her hands and knees at your beg and call?

At this point you felt pleasure with her softest movements, you liked to treat Natasha as a princess so realistically, you don’t mind doing what she wants.

The women decided with an answer, moved with quick intentions.

grasping your muscular shoulders and pinning you underneath her in one motion.

She was a women of many talents

“тигр, I assure you that my hands will need a thorough wash after this…”

The remaining hours of your day were left locked away in the bedroom, and from that point onwards Natasha vowed to always clean her hands.

[waywardxwords]

The Fix - Epilogue

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Slight language, nothing serious. Fluff!

“Mama! Emily said she’d help me build a snowman. Can I go?” Bailey tugged on her mittens and her winter hat, knowing your instructions before braving the bitter air. 

A small laugh tumbled through your lips as you nodded. “Hold on, let me zip you up,” you set down your mug of tea and knelt in front of her before you grasped the metal zipper. “You remember the rules?” You prompted her. 

“Stay close where you can see,” she recited with a proud grin. 

“Good,” you kissed her cheek and nodded towards the door with approval. She bolted past you with a quick, ‘Thanks, Mama!’ over her shoulder. 

You pulled yourself back to your feet and reached for your own winter coat. After you were prepared for the bitter December wind, you grabbed your mug and headed out to the porch to greet Beau as he walked up the path. 

He ruffled Bailey’s hat a bit as she hurried past, but stopped her to straighten it out so it would cover her ears. 

“Hey, handsome,” you chimed from the front door. His gaze found yours and a wide smile pulled across his lips. 

“Hiya, darlin’,” he crooned. 

It had been two months since Jackson had been arrested and made a deal with the FBI. He was still in FBI custody, but that hadn’t brought you much peace. 

Beau had gone out immediately and purchased trail cameras for every corner of your home, and out on the property as well. He had also insisted you practice firearm training (though you had to admit, it was hard at first but you didn’t mind the closeness to Beau that came along with it). 

Beau ended up crashing at your house nine times out of ten. He said it was safer, and he wouldn’t sleep well if he wasn’t there. You thought back to the first night Beau ended up in your bed. 

“It’s late, darlin’,” Beau had glanced at the watch on his wrist as he stifled a yawn. His eyes were hazy and reddened. 

Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you processed the thoughts that drifted through your brain. “I know, I just like talking to you.”

A chuckle fell from his lips. “I like talkin’ to you, too. But we both need sleep.” He had stood and started to gather the pillows and blankets you had grabbed for his make-shift bed on your sofa. 

“You can’t possibly get good sleep out here on the couch,” you toyed with the idea—it was like putting out a bone and seeing if he would take it. His eyes landed on you and he watched you closely. 

“Do you have a guest bedroom you haven’t told me about?” Damn, he was really going to make you work for it. Heat had risen in your cheeks and you stumbled over some ‘uh's’ and there was an ‘um’ in there, somewhere. Beau chuckled again. “Are you askin’ me to sleep in your bed, darlin’?” The gruffness of his voice made your entire body shiver. 

After a brief pause, your voice was almost a whisper. “Would you want to sleep in my bed, Beau?”

A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “I’d like that, if you’d like that, too,” his tone matched yours. 

“What’re you thinkin’ about, darlin’?” Beau’s drawl interrupted your memories as you both sat in rocking chairs watching your daughters build a snowman. Your eyes found his and you smiled. 

“Just how we’ve gotten here. If you had told me this would be my life two months ago, I wouldn’t have believed you,” the cold air stung your eyes as tears had formed. With a glove covered hand, you quickly reached up to push them away. 

Beau had somehow gotten used to your emotions, but he still watched you carefully. “Are you happy? With life, and how things are, I mean?” He asked carefully. 

“Beau Arlen, you should absolutely know the answer to that,” you reached out to brush the side of his face. “I have truly never been happier.” You paused as he reached out to hold your hand in his. “Are you happy? I know we were kinda thrown into this world we’re living in…it’s not necessarily something you signed up for.”

He leaned towards you and you felt his lips against yours. “Darlin’,” he breathed. “I would sign up for this life with you and Bailey every day over again.” You kissed him once more. Beau pulled back for a moment and shuffled through his coat pocket as you heard the buzz from his vibrating cell phone. “One sec, sweetheart.” He pushed the phone to his ear as he answered. “Sheriff Arlen,” he said–the sweetness to his tone dissipated. 

In the two months you had been with Beau, you found it hard to ignore his work calls. Most of the time he got a call to assist with a car accident, or maybe a wellness check on an elderly neighbor. But you could never be certain–you always held your breath in case he got the call; the one where you would find out that Jackson was being released.

Beau stood from his spot on the rocking chair and began to pace, that was your first sign that this was a more serious call. And then his eyes landed on you. When he realized you were studying him, he looked away almost instantly. This call was most certainly about you–or about Jackson, rather.

“Alright, that’s good,” he spoke carefully as he paced. “What’s that mean for…for uh, for the victims?” His eyes wanted to look at you but he couldn’t just yet. You tried to stay calmly seated on the rocking chair, but no longer could. You stood to your feet and glanced back at Emily and Bailey, as if looking away for a second would bring harm to one of them. After a much longer pause than you thought necessary, Beau’s feet stopped pacing and he stood with his back to you. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he breathed. You couldn’t tell yet if that was good or bad–you assumed bad. “Well, damn.” His breath fogged around him and there was a slight chuckle to his words and tone. A chuckle? You wanted to scream out and ask him what that meant, but you knew you had to be calm.

He turned back to look at you again, this time a wide smile on his lips. “Ya know what, Matt Donahue?” Beau’s grin practically touched his ears, and now you had confirmation this call was about your case, as Matt was the FBI agent working it. “You’re not a son-of-a-bitch after all…” he trailed off with a laugh as he stepped towards you. The phone was still pressed to his ear as he listened. “Yeah, yeah, I hope I never see you again, too.” He laughed. “But hey, thanks…thanks a lot.”

He pulled the phone away and ended the call.

“My heart feels like it’s about to explode, please tell me what’s happening,” you breathed as Beau gripped your hands in his just as he stood before you.

“They caught the last drug boss, he’s in the FBI’s custody as we speak,” Beau started. You wanted to urge him to continue.

“So Jackson gets released?” Your heart had already sunk down the confines of your rib cage and into the pit of your stomach; you couldn’t understand how Beau was excited about this.

Beau shook his head from side to side, a gleam of happiness in his eyes. “When the FBI made this deal with Jackson, they had only charged him with kidnapping, felony gun possession and drug trafficking. They didn’t charge him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer.” He began to explain. You weren’t following. “So the deal was only good for the charges he faced at the time. And just now, the DA charged him with attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. He can’t make a deal on that.” 

Beau waited a minute for it to set in. “So…he’s not getting released?” The words were soft but he heard them.

“He’s not gettin’ released,” Beau confirmed with a smile. You blinked as you processed. “It’s a little bit of a shady practice, but for once, I don’t feel bad about it. We’ll get to prosecute him here in Big Sky. We can’t bring up anything he made a deal on, but attempted on a LEO is a big deal. Dependin’ on if they can charge him with first or second, we’re lookin’ at a minimum of thirty years in prison, sweetheart.”

It felt like you might fall over as your knees weakened. Beau seemed to recognize that as he led you back to the rocking chair. After blinking a few more times, your gaze found Emily and Bailey laughing in the snow as they tied a scarf just below their snowman’s head. The feeling of Beau’s calloused fingertips on your cheek brought you back into the moment.

“Hey,” he breathed with a smile, and for a second, you thought you saw his eyes glaze over. “He’s never gonna hurt you again. He’s never gonna be near Bailey again. This seals it.”

You finally managed to speak. “I, uh, I guess you can go home now.” You laughed half-heartedly as you sniffled–partially from the cold but mostly from the emotion that had overcome you at that point.

“I’d really like to be here, with you and Bailey. If that’s alright with you…” his voice warmed your chest as he spoke, but all you could muster was a nod to refrain from sobbing.

Beau pulled you tightly to his chest and you held on as if your life depended on it; and in that moment, it felt like it did.

That night, after Bailey had gone to bed, Beau had turned on the radio to an old FM station that played smooth jazz and alternative rock, two sounds that neither of you hardly ever listened to. But when the soft piano started to play, he held his hand out for you to take.

You couldn’t help but laugh–while you hadn’t shared the reason for your excitement with Bailey or Emily, the two of you had relished in the feeling together. You could see it in the way you looked at each other all night over dinner, or the way Beau had built a pillow fort with Bailey after Emily headed out to meet a friend at the movie theater, and in the way he had pulled you to him before you put Bailey to bed and kissed you like everything was right in the world.

And now you felt it in the way his left hand held your right, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your head moved to his shoulder and found comfort in the crook of his neck as the two of you slow-danced in the middle of your kitchen to the soft sounds you finally recognized as Coldplay.

“Coldplay? Really?” You practically snorted as you pulled your head from his shoulder.

“Shh,” he hushed you playfully. “It’s a good song, alright?”

“Mr. Arlen, I didn’t think you listened to anything that didn’t have a banjo in the background–or foreground, for that matter,” you laughed. You had done a lot of that this evening–laugh, that is. 

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled. “You gonna let me spin you around this kitchen? I can always put somethin’ with a banjo on…” he threatened.

“No, no,” you quickly hushed with a giggle. “I’ll shut up…”

He returned his focus to spinning you around the kitchen, just as promised. Every time he pulled you back to his chest, his lips left a gentle kiss on your hairline.

You couldn’t help but watch him as you listened to the lyrics. Before you could be too overcome with emotion, your lips found his. When you had met Beau Arlen, you were two partially broken people. And somehow, someway–you had managed to put yourselves back together, and you were grateful for this new beginning.

Lights will guide you home And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you.

AHH, okay - so - I apologize. I realize it is not Wednesday, lol. I really, really struggled with this epilogue. I actually ended up wiping the entire thing on Wednesday and re-writing it because I just wasn't happy with it. I hope this wraps everything up nicely with a pretty bow for you.

I really struggled with the whole "let's be sneaky and screw Jackson on a deal" thing, because honesty and integrity are really important to me. But then I remembered how shitty of a human Jackson is (as a reminder: he beat his wife on the regular, he was trafficking drugs that kill people every day, he shot MO [one of the most beloved deputies with a kind heart and soul], kidnapped his kid, held Beau and his ex-wife at gun point, etc.) and decided to run with it. I hope you don't hate it?

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all of you for reading, reblogging, liking and commenting on this series. It has really brought me so much joy to read what you all think and over the last month or so. While this is the end of the series, I hope to come back with some one shots associated with these characters in the future.

And with that, this series is COMPLETE!

*Song is "Fix You" by Coldplay

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Tag List: @jackles010378 @ladysparkles78 @zepskies @lyarr24 @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @djs8891 @globetrotter28 @deans-baby-momma @k-slla @agentorange9595 @dragonfly92 @nancymcl @springsteeen @perpetualabsurdity @deanwinchestersgirl87 @mimi-luvzyu @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @ultimatecin73 @spnfamily-j2 @impalaspixie @daughterofcain-67 @lacilou @jasminewinter140 @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2 @rizlowwritessortof @marimarvelfan @jc-winchester @taylortot @siampie1990 @thewritersaddictions @raisinggray @tabsluvsu @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @nyotamalfoy @ades106 @akshi8278 @fanfic-n-tabulous @officialnighttime @so-get-this-sammy @malindacath

[narcissosbythepool]

Pricegaz Pining Series

Part 7/14

Prev | Next

Prompt: Looking out for you //

Sun has not quite risen yet, stalling under the horizon and reaching its rosy fingertips across the dark blue of the sky. They're waiting, feeling the morning dew seep into their clothes as they sit still in the foliage. It's so quiet, just the rustle of the wind and the song of early birds in their ears.

Gaz puts the binoculars down.

"No movement yet, Cap," he whispers and offers the binoculars back to Price. Price takes them, checks for himself – not that he doubts Gaz's words, but it's always good to make sure.

"Looks like we're in for a long wait," he whispers back.

"You reckon terrorists aren't morning people?" Price can practically hear Gaz smiling.

"Mmh. These sure aren't." He sighs and puts the binoculars down. "I think we can sit back for a while. Be alert."

"Like a hawk, Boss."

Gaz does as told and leans back, rubbing his hands together.

"You cold, Gaz?"

"Just from sitting still. I'll be alright."

Price looks at him for a moment, notes his fingerless gloves. Good for the field, but... "Do you want mittens?"

Gaz blinks at him. "Want what?"

"Mittens. I have an extra pair." It's a lie. He only has the one. But his gloves are warmer.

Gaz considers him for a moment, his brow furrowed. He looks beautiful in the morning light, the hue of the sky painting his skin in beautiful tones. Price doesn't think he could ever get tired of the sight, of Gaz like this. He has a faint stubble now – they woke up so early that neither of them had time to shave. He would probably look good with a full beard. It's thrilling to see him like this, at this early hour. It makes Price long for more mornings.

"Alright," Gaz relents. "If you're sure."

"Positive," Price says and digs into the pockets of his rucksack, where a forgotten pair of mittens resides. He rummages for a short moment, almost dreading that he doesn't have them with him after all, until his fingertips find the familiar texture of wool.

He digs up the grey mittens and hands them over. "Here."

"Thank you." Gaz takes the mittens and puts them over his gloves with some difficulty. Price feels an urge to help but restrains himself – that's one step too far. He would surely linger.

[ownedbythescribe]

Liyue | Lost In You

ıllı Synopsis: Lost in your eyes, in your voice, and in your touch. Even with a simple turn, these men are captivated. For them, there is only you.

ıllı Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slight Angst-Comfort

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Warnings: Use of pet names

ıllı A/N: It’s been so long since I wrote, and this is quite short. I hope I still did them justice. Enjoy!

🍁 BAIZHU — LAGENARIA

Winter was quite heavy this year, an unexpected affliction to the season. Liyue was covered in soft blankets of white in the morning with children playing outside much to their content. In the evening, snow would pelt down harshly, barring anyone from exiting their homes to travel or do work. Quite a predicament for adventurers and herb gatherers who longed to travel at night due to their commissions’ specifications or because certain herbs only bloom once the sun sat down. However, it did not deter you or Baizhu from going nonetheless.

With heavy coats and mittens on your person, you three (Changsheng included) ended up stuck in a cave as you wait for the wintry winds to pass. The road outside was impossible to see, and the thick coats could only handle so much. It was wise to let the snowstorm die down first before trotting the route ahead. While waiting, Changsheng and you fell asleep while Baizhu insisted on staying up to read his patient’s prescriptions. A worried look was plastered on your face, but he assured you that doing this relaxed him. Plus, he wished to see your peaceful face which caused your face to erupt in hundred shades of red.

“Seriously… Don’t worry, I’ll just take a short nap then I’ll be in charge after. Good…night.” You yawned, resting your body close to him. The greenhead smiled softly and pulled the blanket over to your neck. Changsheng hissed a goodnight as well before slithering from his left to your side for warmth. Baizhu lightly chuckled before kissing the crown of your head.

“Rest well, Darling.”

Time passed, and by the time you opened your eyes, dawn was just breaking out. Rising from your position, you turned to the man beside you, and it seemed like he must have fallen halfway through his reading. His notebook laid on his chest, and his eyeglasses were still on. You reached out to take it off and place the blanket on his person instead. Changsheng, who was around your neck, nuzzled on your cheeks and looked at her contractor. She snickered at how ridiculous his position was.

“Tssss, this guy. What a stubborn lover you have, (Y/N). Hayst, hmm, could you take me outside, Dear? The sun would feel wonderful on our skin.” The snake asked. You obliged and went out to meet the new day.

The sun had not fully risen, and the wind was biting as ever, but the rays slowly warmed up your and Changsheng’s skins. It was a nice feeling, and the gorgeous view of the mountain caused you to appreciate Liyue even more.

“I wish Baizhu could see this amazing view. Qiqi would have also loved this. Don’t you think so?” You asked your companion.

“Maybe. This view is nothing new to me, but seeing this with a dear friend makes me think this is the first time I’ve seen it. You really have a strange effect on others, (Y/N).” Changsheng replied, slithering around your stomach, causing you to giggle at how ticklish it felt. You two bathed in the sunlight for a long time before a rustle was heard from behind. You turned your head and saw Baizhu stretching, his hair flowing out like rivers. Not to mention, the ray enhanced his beauty.

‘I can’t believe I have such a hot man for my lover! Thank you, gods, for this blessing!’ You giddily thought. Smiling, you reached out to his arm and pulled him to your position to show the view outside.

“A beauty, right? Next time, maybe in spring, let’s come here again!” You grinned. He nodded and tucked a loose hair in your face before turning to stretch around. What he missed was the way your cheeks flushed at that. Changsheng simply snickered before slithering back to Baizhu who remained oblivious to your predicament.

“What a lovestruck fool. Tssss~ But what can I say, they’re a cute couple. Hehe~”

🍁 XIAO — ALATUS NEMEOSES

“Hmm? Qingyun Peak, Mount Aocang, and Huaguang Forest. The last one should be Mount Hulao for Jueyun Karst. After that, I can head to Luhua Pool!” You cheered, seeing that you were still on schedule with collecting regional specialties around Liyue for your journal.

“What are you doing here?” A cool voice from behind asked.

“Holy sh— Xiao!? You scared the Archons out of me. Please make some noise when you appear.” You heaved out a frightened sigh. He merely gave you a blank look before raising his question again. Blinking, you happily told him about the reason you were in Jueyun Karst.

Adepti and gods alike had lived for hundreds and thousands of years. They trudged through several civilizations with the responsibility to guide and lead. As an interstellar adeptus, it was your duty to guide and protect the people of Liyue at night using the wind and moonlight as your medium. Xiao had been your companion throughout those times. As memorable as it was, time progressed, and those little moments soon began to fade like wind brewing against dandelion flowers. You realized that with the ever-changing world, only by seeing through one’s own eyes and carrying pieces of those moments would they be preserved. Needless to say, memories also carried tragedy in their wake. The grief and loss brought by war still laced the mind, but you had already come to terms with them. Albeit not easily as it took centuries to fully move on.

Zhongli did once say that each being we meet along the way will shine like gold in our memories. He was right. Guizhong, Sky Bracer, Marchosius, and other gods lost to time left an impact on your mind.

“That’s why, I hope that with every piece I collect and put in this little scrapbook of mine, I get to remember the past. Oh, here, do you remember this sketch, Xiao? Hehehe~ I remember pestering a human to create this for me in memories of Menogias.” You recalled, softly smiling at the memories of the Geo General elaborating his design. Bosacius and Alatus barely listened while Bonanus and Indarias were busy picking out their favorites.

Just the thought of them squeezed your heart. The sound of their joyful peals of laughter rang in your ears, and tears immediately formed in your eyes. However, before one could fall, a finger gently wiped it away.

“Their dream of living as mortals may have been deserted, but protecting this very land until their very end was their pride and joy. What they shared with us will be our greatest treasure and this present, we should cherish. I hope that brought you a little comfort.” He voiced, lips turning upwards at the thought of his family wishing for them to see the future for what it was worth. The contented look plastered on his face caused you to break into a smile as well.

‘They’re smiling now. What a relief.’ He thought to himself.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and the page of the scrapbook turned to another item you forgot you placed there. You gently caressed the item like it was a fragile object, which was definitely how it was considering the passage of time. Gently closing it, you turned to Xiao and pulled him down the mountain.

“I’m going to Mount Hulao to get some Qingxin flowers. Come with me.” You urged, pulling him with a grin. Startled, he let himself be dragged to the said place.

“Hey, slow down!”

“Thank you for everything, Xiao!” You shouted as you two fell. He shook his head at your antics before shifting your positions and carrying you in his arms.

“Reckless as always, but it’s because of that that I adore you.” He whispered in your ear, causing you to flush. Words like that were rarely uttered, and they would always make you feel like crystalflies fluttered inside your stomach.

🍁 ZHONGLI — LAPIS DEI

Night in Liyue Harbor remained bustling with people as the day merchants call out to sell the last of their products. Evening shops began to open and local diners started to become full as customers flood their establishments. On such night, the moon shone brightly on her people.

“All right! One more bottle, Master!” You shouted as you swing the empty bottle in your hand with vigor. Cheeks flushed and mind dazed in alcohol, you did not see a slight disappointment (and amusement) dancing in your companion’s eyes.

“Now, now, (Y/N). You might want to slow down on your alcohol. It’s not wise to get drunk when you’ve barely eaten anything.” Zhongli advised, gently taking the cup from your hands while signaling the master for a cup of water instead. You lightly pouted and told him that you ate a few fried vegetables here and there, but he knew better. The plate of the said dish was barely gobbled.

Laying your head on your right hand, your eyes drifted to the harbor below. Flickering lights danced in your eyes, and watching the people shop around joyfully warmed your heart.

“I’m so happy the people of Liyue are thriving well on their own. The Qixing did a good job leading them toward progress. But… do you regret living your post, dear Morax?” You asked, a lilt in your tone.

The refined man sipped his tea calmly before his piercing eyes reached yours. A small smile made its way to his face, a forlorn one that carried resignation. He replied that his ‘death’ might have been abrupt, ending his reign, but it was for Liyue’s sake. It was important for them to be able to stand on their own feet. After all, life was unpredictable and even a god like him could be slain with the right weapon.

“Hmm. I guess you are right. However, I must say, this is a nice change. No wonder Ping decided to live with the mortals.” You joked, stirring the cup in your hand.

Zhongli grabbed a fried lotus when the waiter came in to give your order which was fried squid. You immediately saw the way he recoiled at the dish making you laugh out loud. Taking your chopsticks out, you grabbed one and savored the taste. The seasonings were just right, and they ensured it did not taste fishy.

“Yum~ You’re missing out on these savories, Dearie. They taste absolutely fantastic.” You teased, but you were met with silence. Zhongli, who had his mouth lightly open, was astounded. The endearment you gave him was a first. Usually, you would not call him anything other than Li, Zhongli, Rex, or Stoney.

Glancing back, your eyes squinted at the flush present on his cheeks. Despite how muddled your mind was, the gears still worked, and a chuckle erupted from your lips.

“Li, Dear. Are you flustered because of that? Hayaa… So cute. Maybe, I should call you that just to get that adorable reaction!” You cheekily voiced, liking the unexpected outcome of your words. Unfortunately, you did not notice the way Zhongli stood up and face you until you felt something warm on your lips and the squid disappearing from your mouth.

“I am right. It still tastes awful as I remember, but it was quite bearable coming from you. Oh, Master, another cup of Jasmine Tea please.” He innocently called to the man of the establishment. It was now your turn to blush at his boldness. Immediately, you covered your face with your arms and even tried to hide it by resting your head above the table.

‘This idiot! That was uncalled for!’

Zhongli noticed it and simply chuckled. You were and would always be adorable in his eyes. He wished the master would hasten his brewing though. The squid was too rubbery for his liking.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[witchofthemidlands]

probably the last of my insanity before i sign off for a few days to do my masters graduation ceremony the weekend that i probably will end up not remembering 😅 but i just wanted to say.

ianto jones really is the character. man gets a lot of credit but also at the same time not enough for what he served because quiet teadude, who probably makes the best coffee, in his snazzy suits somehow manages to drag his way through the horrific aftermath of torchwood 1, is that driven by love that he ventures his way into another torchwood, adopts & domesticates a pterodactyl as if he were some kind of top level pokemon trainer manages to sneak a mostly converted cyberwoman into the basement his workplace past the over a century year old ✨captain jack harkness✨ who quite literally LIVES in the building, is so quiet, polite & keeps to himself that no one ever suspects him of literally any of it until it all hits the fan, promises to watch jack suffer & die if he ever has the chance to save him before eventually proceeding to decide that he's got to fuck that old man, was probably prepared to literally kill him & the rest of the team that day & all if he'd had to, decides to headbutt a literal cannibal all by himself, ✨the risen mitten✨ is not ashamed of his stopwatch kink, ✨life knife✨ propositions jack over the corpse of their former colleague & friend, literally flat out shoots owen in the shoulder despite knowing he risks tosh & jack being trapped in the past forever & so. much. more from the show, the books & the audios. ianto jones really is that dude & he did not deserve to die like that.

also he full on has an actual honest to god shine that can still be visited now (& i must see it for myself when i visit my friend in cardiff) the character i swear.

[battlfofendorr]

Reaping What You Sow

A Brio fic

Chapter One

Autumn settled into Detroit and the greater outlying suburbs with the usual flair - vibrant fall foliage, hay bales on every other corner, and pumpkin festivals all around the fringe of the city, declining further into the city proper until concrete and chain link eclipsed the celebration of the season.  The air took on that lovely chill - a crisp bite that nibbled at every inch of exposed skin. 

Sun dresses gave way to long-sleeved sweaters, leggings, and scarves. Jackets, and hats - even mittens, in the early morning, before the sun had risen high enough to fight back some of the building frost in the air.  Once, it had been Elizabeth “Call me Beth!” Boland’s favorite time of the year.  It was a season of abundance - of prosperity - or at least had always been, before. Car sales, spurred on by the return to school - the departure for college, the impending holidays - burgeoned, and the coffers of House Boland overflowed. 

On some level, Beth thought it might be a genetic love – after all, her strawberry blonde hair blended in with the fall leaves.  The dark charcoals and warm scarves made her pristine white skin pop, that cool flush from windchill gave her that incomparable glow. She was built - as some people were built for sandy beaches, or clear white ski slopes - for the seasonal tip into autumn, no matter what her wardrobe of unending sun dresses might suggest.   

No, Beth had reveled in the holidays, a distraction from the monotony of the school year, a break from the merry-go-round of pick-up, drop-off, parent night, and PTA. An excuse to break out a baking sheet, a glue gun. To prove that she might not have come from a perfect household, but, despite having no solid example to follow, she was an exceptional parent – an exceptional mother. 

The best, or damn close to it. 

Perhaps she’d gone overboard in the past, with the pumpkin-trimmed porches, and homemade apple pies, and cookies decorated to look like the season itself - leaves and acorns, happy pumpkins, and little pitchers of fresh apple cider.  Maybe she’d worn one themed cardigan too many, or put out one too many hand-picked throw pillows.  Maybe she’d let slip a little too clearly that she loved the holidays as much - no, more - than she loved the trappings for her daily life.  

But hadn’t she just been doing her best? Wasn’t she just trying to stay in the neat little box she’d been packed into? Mother. Wife. Homemaker. How could anyone fault her for that? 

…and yet, somehow, that was exactly what was happening – her checked-out and moved-on husband – adulterer, nay, whore – was finding more than just fault in her enthusiastic decor.

He’d once been an athlete and his body was still as fit and trim as ever. Of course it was - he’d always had her there, to watch the kids while he went on his daily runs, his bike rides, his trips to the gym.  Or, ahem, the “gym.” He was lightly tanned from time spent enjoying his summer sun - and especially the pool at his apartment complex.  A good looking man, for his age. He even still had all his hair, as thick and lush as when they’d been awkward teenagers.

Charming, when he wanted to be, but at some point he’d given up not just on charming her, but on loving her. On seeing her.

At some point, he’d started giving her that look - like instead of a part of Team Boland, she was the enemy.  

That same look he was giving her as he walked in the front door and started dropping their four kids’ overnight bags on the floor.  

“Do you have to do this every time?” He gestured at the house - the overabundance of orange, red, and yellow that had replaced the neutral summer look of the house.  “It’s too much, Bethie. You always–”  Dean paused, like he was hesitant to tell her what he was thinking: that she’d decorated just to show him up. Like it had been part of an elaborate plot to make him look like a bad father. 

Somehow, it was worse that he didn’t finish his sentence, just left it hanging, accusatory.  You always… 

And she was supposed to scramble to fill in the blank. 

Always what? Show off? Do too much? Care, even if nobody else does? 

Maybe, once, she’d have felt ashamed. Admonished. Maybe she would have fussed after him, contrite, and made his favorite soups. Would have apologized for being so - as he liked to say - extra.  Maybe she would have dimmed over and blotted out all the things she was proud of, to try and make him happy. Papered over her wants, her likes, to compromise and build that mythical “theirs.” 

Once. 

But not anymore. 

“I’m sorry, but you moved out. I’m not responsible for your decoration choices. And I have no intentions of–”

“Oh, that’s what this is about, is it?” He stood up tall, taking up more space now that she’d given him something to argue back on. “Me, moving out? Is this how you punish me? Show me what I’m missing out on, so I’ll regret leaving?” 

As if the carefully-arranged gourds had anything to do with Dean-the-disappointment Boland. Had ever had anything to do with him.  No, it had been for her sister, Annie. Then, her first son, Kenny. For the next of Beth’s children, too - Danny, Julie. Emma.  

For the neighborhood kids - because it was expected. Because it was lovely. 

And for Beth herself - for the child she’d been, once, that would have loved the beautiful front porch, the perfectly-iced cookies, the autumnal garlands, the wreaths. For the kid she should have gotten to be, but hadn’t. 

“You should go,” Beth said, carefully, more neutral the deeper into anger she waded. There was no reason to shout - no reason to argue. No reason to entertain Dean’s tantrum in her own house.  Dean - his opinions - no longer mattered. Thus the separate houses. The split holidays. The whole ex-ness of it all.   He’d thrown away their life, first, and no rewriting history or forgiving him could erase that, no matter how hard she’d tried just to forget, to move on. 

He - of all people - had no high ground to cast stones from. 

“Come on, Bethie, you can’t just–”

Bethie. The thing he always called her when he wanted to manipulate her, or to invalidate her. Bethie, like she was still a child, and not a grown woman. 

“I can just,” Beth said, though which of them she was reassuring, she couldn’t have said at the time.  “This is my house. It’s my time with my kids. You can go.”

She turned away from him - dismissed him like she’d send off an overly-enthusiastic waiter.  Mercifully, he left, slamming the front door just loud and hard enough to upset the pumpkin she’d spent twenty minutes perfectly placing on the wreath hanging over the door. 

“I’ll get it,” her oldest son - Kenny - said, and for a second, Beth saw in her boy all the things she’d once seen in Dean.  Because once - a very long once ago - Dean would have tripped over himself to help her. To prove that he was a white knight, and she was his damsel in distress. 

Maybe it was spite, or just the need to reclaim a season that she’d always loved, but an idea sparked in Beth’s mind, and started to grow.  He was disdainful of her harvest decore? He didn’t appreciate it? 

She’d show him - and the kids both.  She would pack up the kids and take them out to the country, where the red-orange-yellow leaves were a flare of vibrant colors. Where the hay bales piled high, and apples could be plucked straight from the trees. Where cider flowed like, well, cider. It would be all the kids could talk about for days. Weeks, maybe. 

They’d love it - after all, her blood ran in their veins, and that autumn affection, it was as innate to her as breathing. 

It was a good idea - the best she’d had in such a long time. 

Communion with their nonexistent pumpkin-kin.  

Beth carefully took the little orange foam pumpkin from where her son had tried to stuff it, paused long enough to re-fix it in a nest of plastic fallen leaves, adjusted Kenny’s haphazard placement, and then she reached for her phone.  If she was going on a life-changing, mood-boosting trip to the countryside, she had to invite her sister, Annie, and Annie’s son, Ben, of course, and the last third of their little friend triangle, Ruby Hill, with her husband Stan - if he wasn’t too busy working - and their two children, Sara and Henry.

The family - her family. The one she’d built for herself, regardless of Dean.  

Maybe she’d make a picnic. Pile all their warm throw blankets into the car, and thermoses of hot chocolate, and they’d stop somewhere on the way to one of the many harvest festivals, just friends, just family, and none of the drama and frustration that was so determined to build up around her, to suffocate as surely as the role of Dean’s wife and mother had once felt so isolating, so suffocating. 

They’d have caramel, pet a sheep, or a pony. They’d wander in a corn maze.  

It was brilliant. And the one person who could have ruined it - could have torpedo’d the idea faster than even Dean might have - hadn’t answered a text in three days. 

Why not? 

It’s not like she should be hanging around the house, waiting. 

Beth Boland might be many things. Quick to cry during sappy movies.  Too fixated on appearances.  Slightly - ever so slightly - uncertain about her own future.  

But after a lifetime of it, she’d never again be the girl that sat around in the big, perfectly maintained house and simply waited. #

[like-butterflies-and-glitter]

they say jack doesn't love ianto not enough but that scene where jack says life knife risen mitten and stun gun that was for ianto (i know, terribly paraphrased) i'm like honey that had nothing to do with ianto you are making everything about ianto (kicks all my making everything about ianto under the bed)

[meta-squash]

I'm rewatching They Keep Killing Suzie for fic purposes and I love that only the boys seem truly invested in giving the Resurrection Gauntlet/Risen Mitten and Life Knife cool names.

Both times it's Owen that prompts Ianto to give it a cool name and Jack reacts with semi-dramatic approval. But Tosh and Gwen just kind of stand there looking on. Which means that now I feel like it's a game between Owen and Ianto and Jack to give various tools and weapons and alien things names. And it started out as a joke game but then kind of became half-serious.

[mpoweredpelvichealth06]

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[seriouslysnape]

Can I make a request please! I love your work btw! Can we get a Severus x Reader where the reader reveals she is pregnant by gifting Severus a pair of baby mittens she knitted herself for Christmas? 🥺

THAT’S SO CUTE SKDKDNSKDNSIDJ

Here ya go! (Below the cut :) )

A Christmas Miracle

__

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,214

“It’s a wonderful Christmas morning, Severus.”

__

Flurries of snow fluttered down from the gray skies that cascaded over the castle of Hogwarts. The nippy air was cold enough to chill the skin of anyone who dared to brave it longer than a few minutes. It had been a few years since the last white Christmas. You had missed the holiday snowflakes and the blankets of snow on the frozen ground.

While you enjoyed the frightful weather, you were personally just fine with staying within the warm comfort of the indoors. You were pretty sure that the baby currently growing inside of you would appreciate that as well. You had a hand instinctively resting on your barely risen belly as you stood over the kettle of boiling water on the stove. You were only about two months along, just hardly beginning to show.

You were ecstatic to be pregnant, considering it had been a long road to get to this point. Time and time again you and Severus had failed to conceive a child. It had been a long two years of trying and ending up disappointed. Now, you were pregnant with your first child.

You hadn’t told him yet, for you hadn’t found the right time to break the news to him. However, it was Christmas morning, and you saw this as a perfect opportunity. He was tending to the fire in the fireplace, keeping it stirred to ensure that the room stayed warm. You poured two cups of hot water, the steam rising and pleasantly spreading over your cheeks. You were short on loose leaf tea, so you placed a tea bag in each cup. It wasn’t your favorite way to enjoy tea, but it would satisfy you.

With a piping hot cup of tea in each hand, you approached Severus who had stood from his kneeling position in front of the fire. You offered the cup to him, to which he happily accepted.

“Thank you, love.” He said gratefully, his voice still thick with grogginess from just being woken up not long before.

He sipped gingerly, the taste of the tea dancing over his taste buds. His pale, slender hands were wrapped around the cup, sending warmth through his arms. His dark, black eyes were gently set on you. He could tell something was different. You had been more irritable than normal, your skin had a certain glow to it, and you even seemed happier all at the same time. He just couldn’t put his finger on what was so different...

“It’s a wonderful Christmas morning, Severus.” You spoke contently.

You sipped your own tea, relishing in its refreshing taste. Severus gave a nod with a small smile.

“Quite. I’m more than pleased to be spending another Christmas with you.” He replied, drawing you into his hold.

He smelled of a fresh fire and clean linen sheets. His hair was as unkempt as usual, but it seemed a little more voluminous today. You let out a happy hum, motioning towards the side of the room where two presents had been wrapped. You had suddenly realized you couldn’t wait any longer to tell him the news.

“Well, let’s get on with the gifts, shall we?” You suggested.

He agreed, letting you lead the way to the other side of the room. Both of you had agreed a few years before that you would each give each other one gift. It gave it more thought and more meaning.

“Would you like to open mine first?” He asked, plucking the beautifully wrapped gift.

The box was no bigger than a deck of cards, wrapped in a silvery wrapping paper with a black bow. Surprisingly, Severus was quite the skilled gift wrapper. You took the box into your hands, pulling at one end of the bow to let it unravel. You delicately unfolded the wrapping paper to reveal a dark red, velvety box. You opened the lid to reveal the most gorgeous necklace you had ever seen.

It was a medium length gold necklace with a small gem in the middle of it. It was a beautifully crafted diamond that you had your eye on for months prior. You gawked over it, not even wanting to know how much it cost him.

“Severus, I...” You trailed off as he stood to place it around you.

“Shh. A woman as beautifully perfect as you deserves something just as exquisite.” He spoke in his wonderfully deep voice.

He latched the necklace around your neck, his fingers lingering around your collarbones. He adored how it looked on you. It was stunning. He leaned down to kiss you before returning to the seat across from you. He was less than a foot away from you, your knees were almost touching his.

In the excitement, you almost forgot that you were telling him you were pregnant.

“Your turn!” You announced gleefully.

You handed him the box, which was slightly bigger than his. It was about the size of a well-written novel, wrapped in a dark blue wrapping paper with a golden bow on top. You were nervous, excited, and hesitant all at the same time. It seemed like it took him years to get it open. You watched as he opened the present (in a less neat fashion than you had previously done) and let the paper fall to the floor.

He removed the lid and paused at the sight of what was inside. A very, very tiny pair of dark green mittens. You were a very skilled knitter. You had knitted him scarves, gloves, hats, and even socks for various occasions. However, he noted that these mittens were surely too small for him. He picked one up and let his thumb run over the warm, soft material before it finally hit him.

No way.

He looked to you with eyes so wide you were amazed they didn’t pop out of his head. A certain sparkle twinkled in his eyes as he looked at you, waiting for you to confirm what he was thinking. You didn’t say anything, but the smile on your face told it all.

“Are you pregnant, darling?”

Immediately, you nodded and tears streamed your face. He let out a happy, surprised gasp and lunged forward. He scooped you up and kissed you all over like he had never done it before. He held you to his chest, excitedly sputtering over his words.

“I can’t believe this. How did- How long have you known?” He questioned once he was calm enough to look at you again.

You laughed heartily at his giddiness, tears still falling steadily.

“About two months. Not very long.” You admitted.

His hand went to your belly, amazement clear on his face. He had wanted a child for so long. He wanted to grow your little family.

“A baby...our baby, [Y/N].” He cooed, absolutely on cloud nine.

You nodded again, overwhelmed with joy and emotion. He wiped your tears, kissing your forehead gently.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” He praised.

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” You returned the compliment.

He kept you close for the rest of the day. He asked questions and even began to think about baby names. He was the happiest he had ever been.

This was truly a Christmas to remember.

[wickedmilo]

YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU | MILO & SILAS

PLACE: Emilio’s apartment TIMING: 8:12 PM SUMMARY: Milo’s delivers a pie to Silas, and gets a whole bunch of heartbreak in return (oops) WRITING PARTNER: @fermataheart​ ​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Suicide Ideation, suicide, depression, lots of heavy subjects so definitely avoid if you’re not feeling up to it

Milo wasn’t sure he should be anywhere near Emilio’s apartment. But he also wasn’t sure where else he was supposed to go. Emilio had errands to run, so after inviting him inside, and handing over the charm Bex imbued with a tracking spell, the slayer proceeded to leave him alone in what could only be described as a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Until the door closed behind him he had been making a pointed effort to avoid his boyfriend’s gaze. But now he couldn’t, now Silas was all he was able to look at. The man really was annoyingly beautiful. Inside, and out. Yet that did nothing to quell his anger. He knew he looked ridiculous, standing in the entryway holding a pie, a pie he had made with Ariana in a strange bid to both avoid the situation, and address it with spite. He definitely felt ridiculous. Who brought a pie to the person responsible for betraying them? Who spent hours creating something with so much love, and attention when all they wanted to do was scream at the person it was for? But he feigned confidence, attempting to appear at least somewhat sure of his decision. All of the satisfaction he thought he might gain from the act was absent, leaving a void inside his chest he tried desperately to ignore. So he raised the gift with a shrug of one shoulder, brushing it off as unimportant. “I made you a pie.” He muttered. “Ariana knows a recipe that uses brains… seemed like a good idea at the time. Now… not so much.”  

Moving to throw it down onto the coffee table in front of Silas, he crossed his arms over his chest, taking in the view with a miserable curiosity. Emilio still wouldn’t tell him the details, something that he found utterly infuriating, but just the look on Silas’ face showed him how far things had escalated, how badly the zombie’s mental health had been allowed to spiral. That, alongside the mittens and duct tape currently securing his hands, made him wish more than anything that they were two normal people, in a normal relationship, with normal problems, having normal arguments. Normal reunions. He still struggled to view the situation objectively, still struggled to convince himself none of this was personal. But the truth hung in the air between them, and he couldn’t ignore it. Silas knew how hard he found coming to terms with being abandoned by his Sire. He could forgive him once, could even understand to a degree why he had begged Emilio for death after losing Andreas. But a second time? Being abandoned for a second time after making a promise to return? His eyes stung with tears, and before he could stop himself they were breaking free, running down his cheeks and giving away just how overwhelmed he felt by what was happening. “Twice.” He said finally, his voice short, and sharp. “Emilio won’t tell me shit, he’s trying to protect me. But I know… you’ve put me through this twice, Silas. And I can’t let it go this time. I can’t.”  

When Emilio told him he had errands to take care of, Silas had been hopeful. It was a little surprising, honestly, considering he’d tried to sneak out the first night. That was why the damn mittens were still firmly in place, hands still bound together to stop him from making any real escape attempt progress.. and to keep the rings on his fingers that kept Sylvain out. But maybe Emilio figured there wasn’t much he could do, tied up like this? It was his best guess, and he was determined to prove the hunter wrong, despite how much it hurt to think about. 

But of course there was a caveat. He wasn’t being left alone, of course he wasn’t. While the elation had risen as Emilio grabbed his keys, it fell twice as far when he heard a knock at the door. Glancing up from his spot on the couch where he’d been trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, the zombie felt fear wash over him. Milo was standing in the doorway, avoiding his gaze, holding something in his hands. Shit, shit, this wasn’t— 

He was speaking. The thing he was holding, it was... a pie? For him? Silas was taken aback, staring at the food as it was dropped unceremoniously to the coffee table. “Oh.” It was all he could manage, his gaze fixed on the gift as he realized he couldn’t bear to look back at Milo. The part of him that wondered what his boyfriend was thinking, what he was going through, well… it got its answer pretty quickly. 

“I know.” He lowered his gaze to his hands, hating the way that they trembled. “You shouldn’t.” He wasn’t going to make excuses, he knew no one wanted to hear them. And he couldn’t apologize, not after seeing how Emilio had reacted to it. Besides, he wasn’t really sorry. He still thought it was what was best for everyone. It was curious that Emilio wouldn’t tell him what happened—or perhaps not, the hunter was pretty visibly shaken by the whole ordeal. Which was the whole reason he’d wanted them all to just fucking stay put and not get involved— 

“I meant it when I said you deserve someone better.” 

Milo noticed the way Silas was trying to avoid his gaze, and he couldn’t exactly blame him. Looking at him didn’t bring the usual comfort of safety, and affection. He couldn’t imagine what Silas must be feeling in response to his presence. Hopefully guilt. As much as he wanted to pretend he didn’t care, he did. He cared a lot. “Yeah… oh.” He echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. “I’m not feeding it to you. Mittens or no mittens.” He added, though he knew Silas was probably too stubborn to allow it. “What are they for?” He gestured towards the restraints, unable to imagine they were for Emilio’s safety. Clearly Sylvain wasn’t inhabiting his body, and Silas wasn’t the type to become violent, even when he was upset. I know. He set his jaw. Knowing wasn’t going to fix things, but what else had he expected his boyfriend to say. Realistically, what else could he say? At least he was acknowledging the issue, admitting how badly things had gone wrong instead of playing the victim, or insisting he should be grateful he had tried to remove himself from his life. “What do I do then?” He fought to keep his voice steady. “If I don’t let go of this, what am I supposed to do?” Brushing away his tears, he took a hesitant step closer, the zombie’s familiar scent washing over him. He smelled like home in the same way Metzli did, and it hurt. It hurt more than he would ever be able to say. 

A spark of anger reigniting within his chest, he focused on it. Anger was far less complicated, far less difficult to process. “I don’t want someone better.” He exhaled a huff of breath, exasperation evident in the way he ran his fingers through his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it as though the pain might offer him clarity. “Don’t you get that? I want you! You- you fucking idiot-” Lowering his arms, he took another step closer, and found himself entirely unable to hold back. Closing the distance between them in a matter of seconds, he fell into the seat beside Silas, pulling him into an embrace without warning. Holding his head against his chest, he buried his face in his hair, as though maybe he could protect him from the world. As though maybe he could be the one to hold the fractured pieces of him together. “You can’t keep doing this to me.” He murmured, his voice cracking as he spoke. He closed his eyes, holding Silas as tightly as he dared. The frames of his glasses were cutting into his cheek but he didn’t move, he wasn’t sure he could find the strength to withdraw. For a moment he simply indulged in the contact, proving to himself that Silas was okay. He was alive, and here, and he really needed him to be okay.  

“Can’t get out if I can’t use my hands,” Silas answered honestly, deciding to leave out the bit about the rings. It would require too much explanation, and this was already more than he’d spoken all day. The question posed to him was one he didn’t have an answer for, so all he could do was shrug while still averting his eyes. He didn’t know what Milo was supposed to do. He hadn’t considered that things would ever get to this point. If it had gone according to plan, Milo would have been able to move on, guilt free. Now it was more complicated. 

It was almost funny, actually, that Milo was the one getting angry while Emilio had been scared and soft spoken. Those first few days, at least. Things changed after he caught Silas slinking for the front door, and he let his more typical grouchiness shine through after that. Silas couldn’t blame him. Wincing at the harshness of Milo’s tone, Silas straightened his spine a little when the vampire sat down next to him—only to pull him into a hug. A soft, surprised sound tumbled from his lips but he didn’t pull away, allowing the embrace and finding it… welcome. 

“I don’t… I don’t want to,” the zombie muttered. If things had gone his way, neither of them would have to worry about him hurting Milo again. Just tryin’ to protect you. The thought died on his tongue. “This was supposed to be the last one.” 

Milo’s frown deepened. It was one thing to know Silas had probably been dragged back to White Crest against his will. But to know he was still making active efforts to escape was a genuine concern. Part of him began to wonder whether holding him captive was selfish. If he didn’t want to be near his friends then was it right to force their company upon him? But he was sick. Mental health was as valid, and as fragile as physical health. He had been groomed by a cult, and the ghost of his brother for so many years without rest. That kind of influence couldn’t possibly be undone in a matter of days. It could be undone, though. With time, and persistence. He had to believe that. Metzli was walking proof. Taking a degree of comfort in the fact that Silas didn’t pull away from him, he stayed where he was, running a gentle hand up and down the length of his spine. “If you don’t want to then why are you doing it?” He pleaded with his boyfriend for an explanation. Tears left fresh track marks on his cheeks, as he failed to suppress a sob. Shifting so that he could pull Silas closer, he thought he might never let him go. 

“I’m trying to understand, Silas… help me understand.” The anger and frustration still burning inside him only strengthened its hold as he registered the quiet admission. Silas was so ready to say goodbye to him, to leave him without even giving him the opportunity to say goodbye in return. It was fucked up. It was so fucked up. Even now, he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to shout, or break things, or cry, or whisper assurances into his ear. If he could do everything at the same time, he would. Without hesitation. “You think you’re protecting me, I know you do, but it’s such bullshit, Silas. I don’t need protecting, not from you. Am I not allowed a say in what I want? Are you really going to make my decisions for me? Do you see how screwed that is? All anybody wants to do is tell me I’m making bad choices, and you’re- you’re doing the same to me now. I don’t care whether you get why I want you, I don’t give a shit- I just do, okay? And if you leave, you’re going to hurt me. That isn’t protection. That’s the opposite. That’s pain for- for no fucking reason. You don’t know what that would do to me.” 

He didn’t have the answers Milo wanted. Nothing was clear in his head anymore; the last week was nothing but a blur. “It ain’t for no reason,” he sighed weakly, throat constricting like he might cry. “I’m—I ain’t strong enough. For this. For…” Silas drew a shuddering breath, begging the panic to settle, preferring the numbness that had reigned prior to Milo’s arrival.  

He’d killed another innocent person. He’d been made to face his parents again, who now thought he was insane on top of being a disappointment. He’d told Caliste about Andreas, and now she hated him. They’d all hate him. They’d come for him. And worst of all, Sylvain needed him. Needed him in a way he couldn’t provide, not while he walked between life and death the way he did.  

“Sylv wants me to… he deserves better, too” he finally mumbled, pressing his covered fingers down atop Milo’s thigh. “I’d’ve given my life for him when we was kids, n’ that ain’t changed.” He whimpered softly, feeling the crushing weight of his brother’s presence as it hovered over the top of them, invisible but tangible. “I got a lot of reasons, Milo. I know it ain’t fair t’you, but I do. I wish I could just… decide none of it mattered, but I can’t. I can’t. I ain’t strong enough.” 

Milo faltered, his hand falling still when Silas insisted his death wouldn’t have no meaning. He didn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave, not when he was so close to being given answers. “For what?” He prompted. “For me? For life in general? Because that’s not true, I know it’s not because you wouldn’t have run from Andreas. You wouldn’t have asked Emilio to help you. There are so many things you would never have even attempted, Silas, if you didn’t have some kind of hope.” His muscles tensed at the mention of Sylvain, and he realised nothing could have prepared him for his boyfriend’s following statement. It felt like a punch to the stomach, felt as though all of the air had been forced from his lungs. As quickly as he was struck by the desire to hold Silas against him, he suddenly wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Recoiling, moving until he was no longer within reach, he stared at his boyfriend in horror. 

“Sylvain doesn’t deserve shit. You tried with him- even I gave him a chance. He wants you dead because he’s a child. He’s cruel, he enjoys making you suffer. If he’s told you anything different then he’s lying to get what he wants, and- and it’s working.” He pushed himself to his feet, staring at the pie on the coffee table, resisting the urge to pick it up, and throw it. This was still Emilio’s apartment. He didn’t need to come home and clean brains from the ceiling. “You have people who care about you, people who want to help you, and protect you and build a life with you… and you’re letting yourself be manipulated because it’s easy, right? It’s easier than actually making an effort? You told me you were going to come back, you text me, and you told me that. I can’t believe after everything you’re going to let him win. You’re giving up. Not just on yourself either. If you give up, you’re giving up on Emilio, Silas. You’re giving up on me.” 

“Only reason I’ve made it this long’s ‘cuz I’m a coward,” Silas said softly, trailing after Milo as he pulled away before folding in on himself once more. He was right, of course. Giving up was easier than trying to deal with… everything that had happened. Giving up was something he’d returned to his entire life, but never before had he had the option of giving control to someone else and letting them do what he couldn’t. 

“Sylv’s the way he is ‘cuz of me. If I hadn’t… he’d still be alive. It’s my fault, s’all my fuckin’ fault. I can’t do nothin’ to make up for it ‘cept let him do the same to me.” Silas’ gaze was angled down at the floor, shoulders hunched forward as his bound hands dangled between his knees. “N’ the people who care about me… you, you’re in danger.” He lifted his head to look at Milo and the guilt was written plainly in his terrified expression. “Ain’t nothin’ good comin’ from me bein’ alive, ‘cept maybe makin’ you smile. But I’d rather you be sad for a while than dead. Real dead.”

“No, this isn’t about Sylvain- don’t you fucking dare. You can’t take back what happened, but it was an accident, Silas. Sylvain is the way that he is because he let himself be consumed by rage, and this- this toxic blame. He chose to be this way, and you know he did. With the amount of shit you’ve been through… there’s a choice between letting it destroy you, and being a decent person in spite of it all… you understand that.” He trailed off, realising as he spoke that his words meant nothing to the shell of a man sitting on the couch, bound by mittens so that he couldn’t escape the apartment and find a way to end his own life. It made his stomach churn, as though his body was reacting to an immediate threat. But this wasn’t something he could fight, it wasn’t something tangible. The threat was Silas. How did you protect somebody from themself? “Yeah, spoiler alert, Silas, I’m always in danger. In case you hadn’t noticed, I was literally murdered like, a year ago. That’s part of life, and it sucks, and this town can be a fucking nightmare, but you’re in it. And I thought we were in it together. I thought we were going to face it together.”  

Feeling something inside him break when Silas raised his head, there was almost nothing in the zombie that he recognised now. He could stand before him and try to make his case, he could list every reason he wanted Silas to live, every danger he was willing to face if it only meant that they could be together. But Silas had to be the one to break free of the fog, Silas had to step into the light and decide to start living his life again. He hadn’t expected to feel just as powerless in his presence as he had when he was missing. He hated it. “I told you once that I was scared I wasn’t worth sticking around for… do you remember that?” Swallowing his emotion, he clenched his fists in a vain attempt to hide his trembling hands. “My Sire left me… took one look at me, and decided to leave. He didn’t know me, but he saw something in me that he obviously didn’t want. This is worse… you got to know me- you loved me, and now you’re making the same decision.” Reaching behind his glasses to scrub at his eyes, the brief darkness provided a welcome distraction, but he couldn’t avoid the conversation for long so he begrudgingly lowered his arms. Looking at Silas, refusing to break eye contact, he made no effort to mask what he was feeling. He hoped the heartbreak, and spite, and anger, and hurt were all plain in his expression. He wanted him to face the damage he had caused. “You know the part of this that’s just outright cruel? The part that I will never forgive you for?” He laughed at his own stupidity, at how foolish he had been to think somebody could ever see him for what he was, and want to stay. “You made me love you back.”  

It wasn’t just that Milo was in danger, it was that he was in danger because of Silas. The thought of the vampire dying a second time because of his past mistakes, his cowardice and his ineptitude… it was more than he could bear. But they’d never understand that, they’d always remind him how dangerous the world already was and how his impact was insignificant. 

They were right, he supposed, but it didn’t make him feel any better. 

He wanted to tell Milo that it wasn’t about him, that he’d done nothing wrong and nothing about the way Silas felt for him had changed, but to what end? If he didn’t want to leave Milo, then why was he? It was insurmountable, this ache, and the more he struggled to fight it the deeper he seemed to sink. It was easier to mute everything, tamp it all down and not allow himself to feel anything too strongly. As he listened, his head slowly nodded, a silent confirmation of Milo’s feelings. It would be best for Milo to hate him. This deep hurt, this unforgivable pain, it would eventually turn to hate. Or as close to hate as the sweet, innocent Milo could manage. Still, if there was anything he could say to spare Milo that self-loathing he’d grown so familiar with…

“It ain’t your fault. I know… that don’t mean much comin’ from me anymore, but it’s… I don’t want you stuck feelin’ like you’re the reason this is happenin’ to me. I don’t want to leave you, Milo, I—I don’t got a choice.” True or not, it was what he felt in his heart. “N’ you should hate me for that, I get it. You should never forgive me. I’m stuck, I don’t think I can climb back out. That ain’t on you. I been treadin’ water too long, n’ I’m tired.” The distant look in his dark eyes seemed to support this, gaze wandering toward the ceiling as he leaned back. “Too tired… shouldn’t still be here. Not broken like this. Ain’t fair to nobody. Shoulda died years ago. Shoulda been braver.” He was almost speaking to himself at this point, voice impossibly soft as he stared at the ceiling. 

“It’s not my fault?” Milo echoed. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He narrowed his eyes at the mention of not having a choice. He found it incredibly ironic considering Silas was making a decision that would affect not only him, but the people closest to him. Those who supported him, who had showed him love, patience, and understanding. They were the ones who were truly going to pay. “There is always a choice.” He bit out. “The choice you’re making is to take mine away from me.” Feeling a desire to give in and allow himself to hate Silas, if even for a moment, the urge was in stark contrast with his desire to refuse. To push away the sentiment and give him the exact opposite of what he was asking for. But like Silas was claiming to be lacking in strength, he wasn’t sure he would be able to maintain such an exhausting perspective. Defiance often came naturally to him, but not this time. Not now that it meant trying to forgive, and forget, and move on from something that ran so deep. That had become such a solid foundation.

“What you’re talking about right now, what you’re talking about doing… that’s weak, Silas. If you were brave we could be happy, and I think that really fucking scares you.” Watching as the zombie tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, he felt the last of his resolve beginning to waver. He could spend the entire day with Silas, he could sit and make sure he didn’t try to leave. Argue with him. Exacerbate the pain. But why should he when his boyfriend had made it abundantly clear he didn’t want to be with him anymore? He wasn’t worth the more difficult aspects of life, maybe he never had been. Maybe this entire time he had been lying to himself, convincing himself that his relationship was stable, and strong because that’s what he wanted it to be. “You know what? You want to kill yourself? Fine. Do it.” His voice was cutting, and his words were sharp enough for him to feel their sting. “Just don’t pretend you’re doing it for anybody other than yourself.” Walking towards the door, he stood with one hand poised to turn the handle, then thought better of leaving so abruptly. Letting out a huff of breath, he turned back to face Silas, his expression stony. To anybody who didn’t know him, it would be unreadable. Anyone who did would be capable of seeing through the mask, would witness his heart shattering inside his chest. “If you have anything you want to say to me, say it now. You aren’t going to see me again.” 

It did scare him. It was a stupid thing to be afraid of, but the unknown was the scariest thing of all. The idea that he could try and build a life with someone who might tire of him, alongside someone else that would judge his every move. That one day, his only friend would die long before he should, potentially at the hands of the people he’d once cared for. The truth was that at the end of the day, Silas feared being alone. He feared it so deeply that he was willing to remove himself from the equation in a preemptive move, because Sylvain was the only one that he knew wouldn’t leave him. Sylvain was the only certain thing in his life, and he could either move on with his brother, or watch his friends try to destroy him. 

As he’d said, he didn’t have a choice. He was too much of a coward. 

Tilting his head back down to watch Milo as he left, his words rattling around in the zombie’s brain, his blank expression finally showed some remorse.  

“I’m sorry that I put you through this.” His chest ached, but he just kept trying to remind himself that this was for the best. Milo would be better off. It was a painful kindness, but a kindness nonetheless, even if it felt like the worst thing he’d ever experienced. “Goodbye, Milo.”  

[cattatonically]

Trick or Treat for Sousuke x Daichi

Thank you! 🎃 👻

Come play Trick or Treat, and I’ll leave you with sweetness and fluff, or darkness and twistiness.

Treat

“It’s the Blood Moon tonight,” Daichi whispered, staring out the window at the red and orange leaves falling from the tree of the backyard. For a moment, Sousuke wasn’t even sure he’d heard anything at all. Then Daichi turned to him, small smile on his lips, and said it again. “It’s the Blood Moon tonight, Sou.”

“It is. Do we have plans?” Daichi’s smile only grew.

“Dress warm,” he said. Then, in a graceful move, he stood from the window seat, and left the bedroom, leaving Sousuke alone in their bed.

Autumn always made Daichi a little odd and cryptic. It was one of the many things that Sousuke loved about his husband. Daichi’s love of autumn, and warm sweaters (usually from Sousuke’s side of the dresser), usually meant more walks around the town than Sousuke could have ever imagined going on prior to meeting Daichi. But Sousuke loved those walks. Loved the way Daichi’s hand fit in his as they strolled through town, clutching thermoses of hot chocolate.

Just as the sun had set, and the full moon had risen, Sousuke pulled on his warmest sweater, and threw a jacket over top. It wasn’t so cold that he’d need mittens, but he figured a scarf couldn’t hurt. Finding the one Makoto had knit him last year, he draped it over his shoulders. Daichi would likely need it more than he would.

As Sousuke wandered to the front door, he found Daichi there tying up his shoes, their thermoses on the small table where they kept their key bowl. Sousuke made quick work of his own shoes, and let Daichi lead the way out of the house, and towards the street. Daichi slipped his hand in Sousuke’s, and laced their fingers together. There was a slight chill in the air, but it was a beautiful evening for a walk.

“Oh, poor dear,” Daichi whispered as they turned the corner towards the park. Huddled under a barren bush was a small lump of shivering fur. Sousuke wouldn’t have even noticed the kitten, had the light of moon not been shining so brightly.

Daichi bent down, letting go of Sousuke’s hand, and gently stroked the tiny kitten. Sousuke picked up Daichi’s abandoned thermos just as Daichi looked up at him, big brown eyes shimmering. “We can’t leave her, Sou.”

“No. I guess we’re going to be cat dads now?” Balancing the thermoses in one hand, Sousuke took the scarf off his shoulders, and handed it to Daichi. Gently, Daichi wrapped the kitten in the scarf, and scooped her up, cradling the bundle in his arms.

“Let’s take our baby home,” Daichi said, running a gentle finger over the kitten’s head.

“I’ll call Makoto and ask him to bring over any spare cat supplies he has for tonight. We’ll go buy her everything she needs tomorrow, and make an appointment with the vet.”

“Okay. I love you, Sousuke.”

“I love you too, Daichi.”

As they walked, Sousuke kept a hand on the small of Daichi’s back. While he missed holding his husband’s hand, he figured he could make an exception. Just for tonight.

[witchofthemidlands]

no but i actually feel quite unhinged about this.

So we know Jack took over the Torchwood team on the 1st of January 2000 & I am assuming this means that this Ben Brown wasn't a member at this point unless dude went out for New Years 2000 & escaped the massacre (I think he's the secret Torchwood therapist that could have taken the night off) That would mean this was the first person Jack recruited some time after becoming team leader & seeing as Suzie doesn't mention others this means that Torchwood 3 was compromised of Jack & this Ben guy & I know I'm not being normal about this & that this is just two throwaway lines in a non-canon??? book & that dude doesn't even exist in the audios but that deranged part of me wants to know more. When did they meet, was he Welsh, English, Scottish or perhaps a different nationality entirely? how long did Ben work for Jack? What was the relationship like between Jack & Ben, was he also a dark haired bisexual? Did they desire one another carnally after a two man weevil takedown on a dark Cardiff night? Did they just sit at different desks half way across The Hub from one another & just yell to one another or was there just awkward silences. Was The Hub untidy when it was just the two of them until Suzie came along? How did that dynamic work? Did Ben & Suzie start shagging on the side (because she says that she'd never slept with Jack) how long were Ben, Jack & Suzie a team until Ben died? HOW did Ben die? Did his death impact Suzie's relationship with The Risen Mitten? Was Tosh working for them before or after he died? Was his death the reason they decided it was a good idea to acquire a medical professional?

Two lines team member Ben Brown, I am going to write unhinged content for you in my Torchwood AU <3

[stray-kids-react]

Polaroid

Han x Fem. Reader Soulmate au

Warnings - Swearing, mentions of sex, and Fluff that'll make you cry.

Masterlist

...

Y/n's pov, November 27 2020

My mother once told me that I will know when I'm in love, she never specified what hints will cross my path... She just said I'll know.

As a young adult now, sharing an apartment with my close friend Yeji. I'm starting to become impatient with this whole game of love, why can't I just get told who is my perfect match. I'm so tired of having my hopes risen up and then crashed down onto my heart... Breaking it each time.

"Any plans today?" Yeji asked from the kitchen, making me cringe at the word plans.

I just was still recovering from a terrible break up, where I caught the supposedly love of my life slurping the life out of his assistants pussy. I won't forget the feeling of my heart completely stopping for a few seconds, as my mind told me to run and not look back.

"Yes actually, I have a date with Netflix and the leftovers in the fridge." I replied, slyly smirking as she stared at me like a worried mother.

"Well Netflix isn't going to have to wait for his turn. Because I have this guy who is really interested you and is a total sweetheart." She sighed, showing me a photo of the guy she was trying to set me up with.

"Yeah... No." I replied, beginning to retreat back to my room.

"Y/n! JISUNG TOLD ME!" Yeji announced, catching my attention from the front of my bedroom door.

"I-it's still a no Yeji." I whimpered, shutting the door harshly behind me as she sighed in defeat.

Yeji's pov

She needs to get out of this place, it's been two weeks now. All over a guy she barely even knew, I know the true reason she is hiding and she will never admit it.

Y/n is scared to see his face again, our best friend Han Jisung. The best friend that she happened to fall in love with, and moved away from after she got accepted into the university of her dreams.

They were never just best friends in anyone's eyes, not even there own. Yet they both tried to fill in the whole in their heart with other people, never realizing that all they had to do was just say three difficult words.

Y/n was in a hurry to find her perfect partner after I found mine, the man next door with the matching tattoo on his wrist. Your tattoo shows up when you are over the age of 19 and are near your soulmate, it shows up on your wrist, neck, or shoulder blade.

She didn't want to see Jisung in case that tattoo never came, they both wouldn't be able to handle the realization. But it is a part of life, and I'm not going to let my best friends live alone when they could have a chance to be in love and happy.

Han wanted to see us both while he was visiting the city, even though he knew the risk of utter devastation. That fake profile was just a set up so that she would finally meet up with Han, and she probably already knew about my plans.

I walked up to her door cautiously, gently brushing my knuckles against her door.

"Y/n... I know why you are actually upset."

Y/n pov

"Because of Han Jisung." I answered, brushing past the old childhood photos saved on my phone.

"I know that's what you were going to say Yeji, and you're right. I know I won't be able to take it if the guy I love isn't the one for me, and that all of those nights alone with him that are coded into my brain are worthless. I'm scared Yeji, I'm scared that I won't be able to think of most of my life without tearing up." I explained, as she plopped down on my bed next to me.

"You're fear will just get worse until you find out, you'll never know the result until you actually try." She replied, placing my head on her shoulder for comfort.

I let out a shaky breath as a couple tears streamed down my cheeks, she was right as usual. But I still needed at least one day to prepare myself.

"Fine, but let me rest today. I'm not going to fancy restraint with puffy eyes and bed head." I remarked, watching as a sly smile spread across her lips.

She slowly began to exit my bedroom, delighted that she finally got her way with me. Not even explaining who that fake date even was, probably just a random guy from Google. It was 11:30 at night, and all of my crying really wore the energy out of my body and mind.

So eventually sleep crossed paths with my mind and hooked up, completely losing consciousness as my memories flashed like a polaroid camera.

December 15th 2018

"I can't believe we're graduating this year, seems like we only started high school yesterday." Jisung sighed, carrying both of our bags while walking home together.

"Don't worry quokka, you'll still carry my bags for me even after high school." I teased, pinching the reddened skin of his cheeks.

"Oh very funny, and you'll still put crackers in your mouth and pretend to be a walrus." He remarked dodging the snowball that came his way.

He set my bags down on my front yard as he gathered his own army of cold fluff balls. I tackled him to the ground as we both drowned the silence in laughter, I traced my frosted mittens across his face. Gently crossing his lips as he brushed the snow chunks from my hair.

The close warmth of his breath against my face sent my heart into a frenzy, I secretly craved the closeness of him... But I never wanted to admit it in case I'd lose him.

His now glossed lips looked so kiss able, the way they pouted as he focused on my hair. And how they stretched into a warm smile that left a fuzzy feeling in my heart for years, made it only harder to stop myself from interlocking them with mine.

"I better get going bun bun. I'll see you tomorrow at school though." Jisung reassured, lightly booping my nose as he left his trail from my snowy front yard. Waving one last time to catch my attention as I was at the front door.

"Farewell loser!" He shouted, showing off that bright smile of his.

"Farewell to you as well, asshole!" I retorted, giggling as I walked into my empty house all alone.

November 28th 2020

Y/n pov

"Wake up! Time for bubble tea!" Yeji screamed, jumping on top of me as she consistently hit me with my own pillows.

"I thought we were meeting Jisung later." I sighed, looking at the red numbers of my alarm clock reading 7:30am.

"Yes we are, but I want bubble tea and to talk with you about some stuff I found out." Yeji replied, pulling me out of bed to soon push me into the washroom.

I complied to her excited energy, understanding it is pretty exciting for her.

The steaming water swallowed every inch of my skin, blocking out all of the noises outside. Only leaving me and the blank wall to stare at, droplets of water racing against each other. A flash of the mirror and sunlight clashing, sending the flash of a polaroid to my memories.

August 16th 2018

Yeji squealed as her boyfriend threw her into the pool, soon joining her in a large cannonball jump. All of his friends danced around with liquor drenching their breath, as their bodies clashed together in ways they didn't fully understand.

It wasn't my style of fun, it instead gave me a wave of fear and stress. Not recognizing any of these people, while they danced around half naked. Yeji's boyfriend decided that she had enough fun for one night, and took her home to rest.

I hurriedly gathered my belongings and rushed out the door, just as excited and horny shouts came from the pool. I was okay to walk home alone, it felt nice to be surrounded my silence for once. Even if my conscious tortured me about every bad possibility.

"Need a drive home party animal?" a familiar voice called from across the road, that voice of the man who has always had my back.

"I'd actually really like that." I replied, feeling a wave of comfort when I entered the car.

"I can tell your a bit freaked out." He sighed, throwing his bad into the backseat.

"That party was just... A lot. A lot more than I expected." I whimpered, still a bit overwhelmed from the experience.

"How about you stay at my place for the night. We'll even watch some American horror story..." Jisung suggested, even though he was shit terrified of anything remotely scary.

"I'm holding you to it quokka." I giggled, slapping his thigh teasingly.

We drove to his home as the car filled with a random playlist of songs, one landing on my favorite 'Turning Page'.

"I didn't know you liked this song." I commented, blushing softly at the tone of the song.

"I want this to be the song that represents me and my soulmate. It sounds cheesy, but it's true." He revealed, glancing my way as the car stopped in the from of his home.

The whole topic of soulmates use to be humorous to me, remembering when me and Han drew matching docks on our palms as 'our' symbol. Even taking a polaroid photo of the amazing art we drew, I still have it in my phone case.

Then it hit me, how much it would hurt to see him destined with someone other then me. That moment when he glanced back into my eyes with a shy smile, is when I admitted to myself for falling madly in love with my best friend.

November 28th 2020

I walked along the streets of our home town, hanging my mask off my chin when sipping my bubble tea.

"You know what's crazy." Yeji started, catching my focus immediately.

"I remember the moment you started crushing on Jisung. You didn't even have to tell me, I already knew." She admitted, gazing at me with only a soft warmth in her eyes.

"It was obvious by how many photos you had of him and you on your wall, and the way you looked at him as if he were your dream person." She continued, texting something on her phone that I couldn't quite see.

"Or how when he caught you staring he'd reply with 'take a picture it'll last longer'... And you always did to get revenge. I will never forget the day I saw you two as more then best friends, that was the same day when I bought you that polaroid camera for Christmas. " She replied, taking a short break as her hands nervously fidgeted with her skirt.

"That's why I want a 'thank you' later on." She mumbled, before running off and leaving me completely stunned on the bench.

"Y/n..."

September 14th 2018

"It's crazy that this is your last day here." I sighed, trying my best not to cry.

He nodded trying to smile the pain away like me, but soon caving in once his arms met my body. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hoping I could capture his scent one last time.

"I'll still visit. I can't cope without seeing your face, asshole." He chuckled lightly, sniffling quietly when he retracted his arms away.

He stared at my features for a few long seconds, as if he was contemplating on doing something. Jisung shook his head, smiling brightly once more as he pulled me into one last hug.

As he put his palm on the door knob, I shouted his name one last time. Running across the room towards him, he turned around immediately dropping his bangs on the ground.

He instantly knew what I was going to do, since his lips molded with mine without one ounce of hesitation. His hands lost in my hair, pulling me closer and closer until there was no space between us. Jisung's lips were so much sweeter and softer then any other kiss I've had.

The sweetness was sprinkled with the salty taste of our mixed tears. Only creating more as the kiss began to end, both of us realizing we should've told each other so much sooner.

"I love you." We both sighed at the same time, smiling sadly at the bittersweet sting in our hearts.

November 28th 2020

"Jisung..." I gasped, turning around quickly to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"W-wow... You've really. Wow." He stuttered, cautiously inching closer towards me.

"You too." I chuckled airily, swallowing back my tears. I missed him so much, but it hurt too much to see him at the same time.

"Y/n... I know it's been a while. But I honestly came here because I needed to see you. I still love you, and I don't care if we're soul mates or not. I'll sharpie our own symbol on us everyday if I have to." He revealed, grasping my hands between his own.

"I'm sorry that I was being so selfish." I sighed, caving into my own tears. Regretting my fears of seeing him again, feeling terrible for torturing him just as much as I tortured myself.

"We are both scared. It's not our fault, but I just want us to accept that things may not go our way. But that won't stop us from being together." He reassured, lightly brushing frosted his mitten across my features. Glossing over my lips gently, his eyes warm and gentle as they fluttered shut.

I molded into his kiss immediately, lacing my fingers through his silky hair. Soon pulling him closer to my so there was no space between us, making sure no one could try and ruin this moment for us.

His lips still were as sweet as the first time they molded into mine, and his fingertips could still make my legs give out by how gentle they were against my skin. Every emotion flashed through my mind, all my regrets, confidence, love, lust... It all flashed just like a...

"Polaroid." He gasped, tugging my palm next to his as the ink slowly traced the same picture into my palm. The picture of the camera that captured all the moments I treasured with my soulmate, the soulmate that was everything I could've asked for.