#literally so ecstatic that book ideas keep coming to me and getting life breathed into them

[prozach27]

.

[thatshithurted8]

jeff wittek imagine where the reader and jeff go on vacation together like to vegas or miami???

Holiday 

Summary: Throughout your mini holiday in Miami with your boyfriend Jeff, he realizes just how special you and your relationship are. 

Word Count: 2.3k

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, mention of alcoholism and Jeff’s accident

A/N This is also inspired by KSI’s song Holiday! 

I wanna wake up every mornin', feelin' better 'Cause I know you're sleeping by my side And every moment we're together I remember just to keep it all for you and I

Jeff’s brown eyes slowly open, being awoken by a crying baby that was a few rows behind you two. He lets out a yawn before looking over at you who were fast asleep on his shoulder. 

Something that not a lot of people knew was that Jeff hated flying despite being a certified skydiver. Ever since he was younger he was never a fan of flying, only now he was a bit more comfortable with it due to his experience skydiving. Nevertheless his initial nerves after waking up quickly wash away just from being in your presence.

Wanting to capture this seemingly perfect moment, Jeff slowly grabs his phone out of his pocket without disturbing you and takes a quick picture. As he analyzes the picture his heart swells at how at peace and comfortable you looked sleeping on him and in one of his sweaters. The two of you were extremely tired from catching a red eye flight to Miami so no wonder why you both fell asleep. 

Saving the picture Jeff puts his phone away and slowly opens the blind of your window seat. The rising sun shines into your row, the rays illuminating your face making your features and long lashes more prominent. The purpose of the trip to Miami was to watch the Logan Paul vs Floyd Mayweather fight. In fact you were ecstatic when Jeff told you he got you guys tickets to the event since you grew up watching boxing with your family and you were a huge fan of Mayweather. With that being said you had no idea how close the tickets Jeff got were to the ring. 

Jeff’s breath hitches as he admires you. He was so in love with you and was so excited to see your reaction to being ringside. As Jeff softly moves some stray hairs out of your face he realizes everything he does is for the benefit for not only you, but your relationship as well. It was you two against the world. 

I see that body in the sunlight Feelin' the heat and it feels right I wanna do this for the rest of my life

“I know you guys are dating and all, but you seriously need to stop staring before you sink the boat with your drool.” Mike Maijlak says walking over to Jeff’s side and handing him a La Croix. 

Jeff booked your mini holiday to last a few days before and after the fight which gave you guys the opportunity to explore Miami and let lose. With that being said neither of you were going to turn down Mike’s invite to join him on a yacht to party. So there you were talking and dancing with some girls you knew from LA while sipping on a La Croix. 

Jeff lets out a laugh while opening one of his favourite drinks. “I can’t help it man, just look at her.” He says taking a sip of the bubbly liquid while continuing to admire you from afar. 

The Miami sun that shined onto your skin paired with your infectious laugh, seemingly gave you a golden glow that made you standout. Not only that, but the bikini that you were wearing flattered your body type so well. 

After feeling as if someone was staring at you for the past few minutes you finally turn and look around the boat to find the owner of the eyes that were on you. Quickly your eyes find Jeff’s brown ones and you realize it was just Jeff staring at you the whole time, causing heat to wash over your body at his gaze. 

You shoot him a smirk and wink in return before turning back around to continue your conversation. A smirk of his own falls upon Jeff’s face as you do so, along with a light shade of pink on his cheeks. 

“You’re so whipped.” Mike laughs shaking his head, finally speaking up after watching the whole interaction. 

“Well I wanna be whipped for her for the rest of my life then.” Jeff says without realizing how big of a statement that was while his eyes remained on your beautiful figure. 

Oh, I know, I know, you know the vibe I wanna stay with you every night You and me underneath the lights I'm always good when you're by my side I know, you know you're on my mind You really make me come alive I wanna be here for the rest of my life

“Jeff look at my hands I’m literally shaking I can’t believe we’re this close!” You exclaim while glancing between your boyfriend and the boxing ring in front of you. 

“Only the best for you doll.” He says sending you a wink while laughing. For the past hour and a half as you two watched the undercards you continued to gush about your seats making Jeff happy to see you happy. 

Without wasting another second you roughly grab Jeff by his green shirt and pull him in for a passionate kiss. Just before the brunette could immerse himself into it fully you pull away. Some of your lipstick was smudged and Jeff knew without a doubt he had some on his lips, but he didn’t care. In that moment it truly seemed as if you two were the only ones there under the rings bright lights and in an arena full of screaming fans while you two stared into each others eyes lovingly. 

Your attention on your boyfriend is torn away when the already loud arena becomes even louder as Mayweather starts to walk out. Quickly you start to cheer for your favourite boxer while jumping up and down and clapping excitedly. Jeff glances between you and the boxing legend before his gaze finally lands on you. 

You look over at your boyfriend with a smile that was from ear to ear. “It’s Floyd fucking Mayweather!” You exclaim pointing over to the undefeated boxer entering the ring. 

A smile washes over Jeff’s face as he laughs at your excitement. You truly resembled a child in a toy store. Seeing your excitement only made Jeff more excited, causing him to join in on cheering for Mayweather despite being friends with Logan. 

There was no one else Jeff would rather be with to witness the fight and this thought only made him realize he wants to be by your side for the rest of his life. 

Looking for sun rays, needin' them good days Fly me away-away, you're my holiday Cool like the ocean, lost in emotion Fly me away-away, you're my holiday Whenever you're here it's a good time Strawberry shirts in the sunshine Ice-cold drinks 'til the moonlight You're my holiday Whenever you're here it's a good time Strawberry shirts in the sunshine Ice-cold drinks 'til the moonlight You're my holiday

The next few days after the fight was a whirlwind, but in a good way. Despite having a good time underneath the Miami sun and it’s nightlife Jeff wouldn’t be having as good of a time if you weren’t there. You truly made the trip for him, making the sunny days that were good for his mental health even better and the dreary days full of life from your infectious positivity and smile.  

You let out a loud laugh as you and Jeff wrap your arms around each others, mimicking a toast before brining your drink to your lips while your boyfriend did the same. At the same time you two sip at your virgin drinks while maintaining eye contact with each other in the close position. You gulp down the rest of your cold drink despite it being alcohol free before untangling your arm with Jeff’s and ordering another at the outside bar. 

Over the past four years of knowing Jeff the two of you created a special connection that no one in your friend group had with each other. And that was being sober. Jeff turned to alcohol after his break up with his ex girlfriend while you on the other hand turned to it to deal with the death of your mom. To say you were there for each other was an understatement. When the temptation to drink was too much Jeff would call you up and the two of you would go on late night hikes and talk about everything and anything, and vice versa for you. There was always a mutual pining for one another, but neither of you acted on it due to how broken you both were at the time. However, as the years went by your feelings only intensified along with Jeff’s. Though it wasn’t until a few months after Jeff’s accident when he took a leap of faith and finally confessed his feelings to you after realizing how short life truly was.

Jeff places his glass on the bar as well, placing his hand on the small of your back while looking around the crowded club that was partly inside and partly outside. Once you get a refill of your drink you turn around sipping on the paper straw, your back leaning against the bar causing Jeff to redirect his attention back to you. 

“You look beautiful.” He says looking down at you in his arms. 

Heat washes over your face and Jeff’s smile widens at how flustered you still got after all this time together. He loved showering you in words of affirmation and he meant every thing he said to you. Although, you always look beautiful the way the moonlight reflected off of your skin made you look angelic. It was a great contrast to you earlier in the day at the beach wearing a strawberry printed bikini that made Jeff feel a certain way. 

“Thank you baby you don’t look too bad yourself.” You say placing a soft peck on Jeff’s lips before pulling him towards the dance floor. 

I wanna stay up 'til the mornin' with you talkin' Just to listen to the things you say And every time we're in the middle of the city I imagine us so far away

The two of you sat down in a booth with Mike Majilak and Logan Paul at a random Denny’s that was in between your hotel and the club you four were previously partying at. By now the jet lag and the numerous activities you and Jeff participated in was starting to catch up to you. However, that wasn’t apparent to anyone other than Jeff as you talked the boys ears off while eating. 

“We’ll see you guys later! And once again Y/N text me when you’re free to film an episode of ImPaulsive.” Logan says as him and Mike get out of the booth, placing money on the table and getting ready to leave the restaurant. 

“Of course!” You exclaim before picking up your lemonade and drinking what was left. Jeff bids his goodbyes to the two influencers and once they leave you quickly rest your head on his broad shoulder, letting out a loud sigh. 

“You okay doll?” Jeff asks placing his hand on your thigh. 

“Yea just tired.” You say kissing his neck and placing your hand on his cheek. Similar to Jeff you were able to pick up on the energy of situations and that affected how you acted. So once Mike and Logan left you felt as if you could finally wind down from their partying aura. 

A comforting silence falls upon you two and your eyes slowly flutter close as the rising sun shines in through the Denny’s windows. As cliche as it sounded Jeff felt as if it was only you two in the quiet breakfast place. The brunette rests his head against yours and his eyes follows your lead by shutting close. 

The two of you remain in this position for a few minutes, cherishing not only the first quiet moment of the trip, but also the little moments you two shared. 

Ooh, ooh Ooh, you're my holiday

Scratching at his eyes and stretching Jeff slowly and quietly gets out of bed, the sun filtering in through the hotels curtains and onto your sleeping body. You looked so peaceful and he didn’t want to disturb that. Once you guys returned to your hotel room from a night out partying and a very early breakfast at Denny’s the two of you instantly fell asleep. 

Jeff glances at the analogue clock on the bedside table which read 2:34pm before he slips on a pair of pants and a t-shirt. Making sure to not wake you Jeff grabs his phone, wallet and room key then quietly leaves your shared room. However, before he leaves he makes sure to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and whisper to you how much he loves you. 

Throughout the trip he was constantly reminded of how much he loved you. You helped him through some of the darkest times in his life and after all this time of knowing and being together Jeff finally knew what he had to do. 

Remembering a shop that was a few buildings away from your hotel, Jeff quickly walks over to it wanting to be back before you woke up. The Staten Island native hands become clammy as he approaches the store, his tough guy persona seemingly crashing down with every step he took. 

The bell above the shops door dings as Jeff walks in causing a sales representative to walk over to him with a welcoming smile. 

“Good afternoon how can I help you?” She asks. Jeff takes a look around the quaint shop and all of the glass casings before redirecting his attention back to the worker. 

“Hi uh yea, I was wondering if you guys have any engagement rings?” 

[countfagulaa]

Why Sherlock Holmes most definitely has ADHD by someone with ADHD

So I’ve recently come across the theory that Sherlock Holmes has ADHD and as someone with ADHD it has made me quite happy knowing one of my all time favorite characters/idols has a disorder I’ve been a little insecure about for a while now, but it’s also intrigued me quite a bit. As a result, I’ve decided to analyze this theory and prove why I think he most definitely does indeed have this “disorder”.

1. Hyper-fixations/excitement

People with adhd obviously have difficulty paying attention to things, hence the name, particularly when they are not personally interested in said thing. When we are interested, however, most of us experience what is called ‘hyper-fixation’ which in laymen’s terms means ‘An intense state of concentration and focus’. Now, a lot of the time hyper-fixation brings along the desire to share or “info-dump” our thoughts on said thing to other people. Personally, this is very accurate for me and when I am able to share my thoughts on something I’m hyper focused on to someone else I feel this intense feeling of excitement and I catch myself running out of breath because of speaking so fast as my body tries to keep up with my mind which is racing a hundred miles an hour. This in mind, there are numerous examples within the books of Sherlock experiencing both these things at an intense level. A perfect example of this that I’ve noticed is literally in the scene where he is first introduced into Watson’s life in “A Study in Scarlet”.

In this scene, Watson and Stamford walk in on Sherlock who is fully engaged in an experiment where he works on a chemic way to accurately identify blood in unknown stains. As you can see in the excerpt above, Holmes is absolutely ecstatic on the potential success of his experiment and absolutely entranced on it. He dumps information upon information on Watson while he keeps on with his experiment and drags him along to share his excitement with and engages Watson into the conversation, which is something I can also admit to doing when I am hyper focused on something as the approval and ability to express and share my thoughts/excitement with someone else and feeling as if I am not alone in my excitement brings a great feeling of content.

This scene shows a classic example of this happening as Watson describes Sherlock’s level of excitement as “Had he discovered a gold mine, greater delight could not have shone upon his features,” and “looking as delighted as a child with a new toy”. Sherlock’s excitement also shows to cause him to act impulsively as we see in future cases where he runs off or literally jumps into action without a word, causing confusion to everyone around him. I cannot tell you how perfectly exemplified this symptom is shown in scenes like these I swear I could feel his intensity within his excitement. I also found it pretty adorable I’m not even gonna lie to you lol.

2. Untidiness and disorganization

Another characteristic of someone with ADHD is being untidy and disorganized. This is due to being “impulsive, rushing, and late all the time. With their minds racing, they don't have the time, energy and skills to put things in their rightful place.”, according to google. To say Sherlock is messy is an understatement. Missis Hudson is literally known for being constantly frustrated by Sherlock’s extreme level of messiness.

An especially perfect example of this characteristic is in an episode (of which I can’t recall atm) where Holmes is so concentrated on a case that he throws papers all over the room until he finds the one he is looking for and then continues on absolutely unfazed by the mess he’s made as his mind keeps him in an almost hypnotic state where his surroundings become irrelevant, including his hell of a mess.

I can definitely testify to this, although I’m not necessarily proud of it. A lot of the time I’ll be struck with an idea that I love so much that I get up and move everything out of the way without a second thought just to get started on said idea, seeing the placement of everything to be completely irrelevant as it’s the last thing on my mind in that moment. Something else that causes this is what is called ‘analysis paralysis’ which is, in basic terms, the feeling of knowing you need to do something and being fully aware that you should be doing said thing yet you continue to not do said thing as you stay focused on something else feeling unable to break away from it, causing a sense of being in an almost paralyzed state. This also leads to procrastination and falling behind on a lot of things and putting them off until the last minute which in this case would be tidying up, and Sherlock is a perfect example of this characteristic.

3. Attachment

Another characteristic of someone with adhd is getting very attached to others easily. A lot of the time, people with adhd feel emotions more deeply than others. As a result, the happy emotions that come with forming a relationship with someone you’re especially fond of, whether it be romantically or platonically, can feel even more intense to someone with adhd which then may cause issues with attachment and make things like breakups or fights with said person especially painful. A perfect example of this is Sherlock’s love for Watson.

It’s no secret that Sherlock adores Watson more than he’s probably ever cared for anyone he’s ever had in his life. So much so that his feelings appear to be more than platonic and that’s a whole other post in itself lol. Sherlock’s attachment is a classic case of this characteristic when it comes to adhd as he cannot go anywhere without him, he refuses to work without him, he feels “lost” without him, he loses his cool whenever Watson even seems to be in danger, he goes to Watson when he’s excited or happy about something, he appears defensive over him whenever anyone offends Watson or even implies hurting him. Watson could easily be considered Sherlock’s world. The apple of his eye. Sherlock appears to be the most human whenever he’s around Watson as his emotions are more apparent and his guard is broken momentarily by the love and trust he has in Watson. There is no Sherlock Holmes without John Watson.

4. Addiction

A lesser known characteristic of people with adhd is the higher chance of developing addiction or experiencing substance abuse. This is due to desire to make up for the lack of dopamine in the brain. It’s no secret that Sherlock is an addict abusing narcotics such as heroine, cocaine, opium, amphetamines, etc.

There are multiple causes for the greater risk of addiction with people who have adhd such as the desire to calm your mind or emotions which appear to be more intense for those who have this disorder. A lot of times people are prescribed amphetamines to stabilize their moods and allow themselves to concentrate more easily as it calms the mind and makes you feel more motivated to get up and do things and break the cycle of things like analysis paralysis, at least in my experience with them.

It wouldn’t be surprising to know that Sherlock may feel the desire to abuse these drugs as a form of creating a calm within the storm in his head that keeps him on edge all the time or to help with his ‘black moods’ which realistically could be considered depressive episodes. His mind seems to take over too much sometimes to the point where he might appear to feel suffocated by it as even he states that his mind “rebels its stagnation”. It finds more stimulation when he works and gets hyper focused on a case but when he does not have a case to gain that stimulation from he falls into his black mood which then causes him to seek stimulation elsewhere, that being substances. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of having adhd but it’s something some of us can’t help but turn to. These addictions also come from the impulsiveness in people with adhd or simply to cope with the intense boredom that comes with it.

If you feel you or someone you know may be experiencing a form of substance abuse, do not be afraid to seek help and reach out to a professional or a support group where you can develop healthier alternatives to said substances.

Conclusion

Like I said at the beginning, feeling like I can relate to one of my biggest idols that I had growing up makes me very happy and less insecure about having adhd as it’s something I don’t like to admit to others others Irl because of the fear of being judged for it or considered as lazy or dumb and just attempting to cover that up with an excuse. There’s so much more evidence in the books of Holmes having adhd with some being more subtle than others, but most of it becomes more and more evident the more you watch him or read about his behavior. I based a lot of this on the Grenada series because let’s face it Jeremy Brett is Sherlock Holmes and it’s easier to visually understand why the odds of this theory being real are so high. Let me know what you think of this theory whether you disagree with it or not as I find this to be very interesting and, admittedly, quite comforting.

Y’know, I use to, and sometimes continue to, doubt or question whether I really do have adhd or if I’m just subconsciously making excuses for my laziness and sloppy habits. But if hyper-focusing on writing about a fictional, genius, antisocial, drug addict detective potentially having Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder when I should be doing a month’s worth of homework and cleaning my room instead isn’t a classic case of adhd, idk what is.

[honey-coloured-passion]

‘Til Time Do Us Part - KarlNap (DreamSMP)

1.7k words

Summary: Karl meets, and eventually falls for a kind stranger. (This is based on time traveler Karl from Dream SMP canon!)

“Where, where am I?” Karl felt his head spinning as he stumbled out of a familiar library. Glancing around he noted the heaps of books stacked on each other, there were paintings of different faces adorned on the walls, and there was a young man sitting comfortably in an armchair, staring right at him. 

“Hi!” The stranger stood up, bunching up the papers he’d been staring at as he moved towards Karl. “You must be new to the library! I’m Sapnap.” the taller man stuck out his hand, Karl carefully took the handshake, noting the warm smile Sapnap was giving him. 

“Do you know exactly where we are?” Karl didn’t quite know the question to ask, he barely knew who he was at this point. But Sapnap seemed kind and welcoming, he gestured Karl to follow him into an adjacent room in the library.

Pointing at a row of maps he began, “you’re in Dream SMP, look, this is where we are. Then there’s L’manburg, or what’s left of it, Party Island, the prison, and ooh! I just put the new hotel Tommy’s building here as well. Looks good huh?” Sapnap gestured wildly around the crinkling brown paper with a beaming smile. Karl studied the map hoping to gain some semblance of knowledge about where he was. But this map practically answered every question he had perfectly; little bullet points made note of important recent events describing actions he had apparently made in the past few weeks. It was a real-life summary of everything, all he needed to know, it was perfect.

“You made this?” Karl gawked at the masterpiece in front of him. Sapnap rubbed the back of his neck, “well I had a little help but yeah! It’s uh, nice to know what’s going on. You- I, I can be pretty forgetful you know?” and Karl couldn’t help but agree. Just ask he began to take another look at the map Sapnap cleared his throat, “would you wanna go check out Party Island? I know you’ll love to see what the llamas are doing today!” and Karl couldn’t deny he wanted to spend time with this kind stranger. 

Quickly they had raced through the SMP to Party Island, Sapnap had led Karl through all the best parts of the world. They stole potatoes from a child named Purpled, sang songs with a strange naked man, and harassed various British children all before ending on the roller coaster in Party Island. Karl had gone from chasing after Sapnap to roaming the world hand in hand in just a measure of hours. As they rounded the day out Sapnap pulled Karl’s attention from the setting sun to his chocolate brown eyes. 

Sapnap looked golden in the warm hues of the setting sun, flames danced in his eyes, and a light reddish color burned on his cheeks. Just staring at the man in front of him Karl felt his own breath hitch. Sapnap glanced down nervously, “I really enjoyed hanging out with ya today Karl, and I was wondering if you’d wanna, maybe, hangout again sometime? And! Also I got this from Puffy!” not leaving Karl a moment to speak he pushed a slightly crunched purple allium flower into Karl’s hands. 

Karl felt warmth budding on his cheeks as he stifled a glowing smile at the beautiful flower, it was his favorite kind too. “Of course I wanna hangout more! We literally had the best time ever, you know all the best places and my favorite things it’s like you’ve known me forever Sap!” Karl grinned up at Sapnap who let out a strangled, but excited giggle. Karl shook his head with a grin and pulled Sapnap in for a hug. “Karl n Sapnap forever!” Karl shrieked into Sapnap’s shoulder, trying to contain his ecstatic energy as Sapnap swayed him back and forth in the hug.

“Forever.” Sapnap agreed. 

~

“Hello?”

“Anyone there?” Karl called out as he pushed open the door to a strange and dusty library. A handsome stranger gave him a dashing grin as he stood up, pulling together the papers he was writing in. 

“Hey! Welcome to the library!” the man stuck out a hand which Karl took with a warm smile. “Have I seen you before? This is crazy but I swear you were like totally in a dream I just had!” Karl looked up at the stranger with a smile, but the man calmly shook his head, “I get that sometimes, but I don’t think so! Name’s Sapnap.” Karl promptly introduced himself as well.

"Say, do you know where I am? My head's kinda fuzzy." Karl gave the kind stranger a sheepish grin, but Sapnap seemed to grasp his question. "Follow me!" Karl was jolted forwards as Sapnap grabbed his hand, pulling him into an adjacent room with a whole wall covered in maps.

With his bearings set he agreed to help Sapnap look for a new trident in the ocean near a place called "Snowchester" it was the least he could do after Sapnap had been so kind to him, it's not every day a man with little to no memories appears in your library!

They spent the day splashing in the waves and resting on the shore. Karl was swept off his feet- twice by the waves and ultimately by Sapnap himself. The taller warrior captured Karl's heart with every blinding grin, flip of his ocean-damp hair, and kind but undeniably flirtatious words.

Come nightfall the two retreated off the coast to what Karl assumed was Snowchester. Spending the night sitting atop a spruce wood roof staring at the stars, Karl found himself more mesmerized by the shining warmth of Sapnap's eyes than any star in the sky.

Sapnap broke the silence, tilting his head to the left to meet Karl's eyes with his, "so, pretty good day huh?" Karl nodded, swallowing butterflies. "We should do this again!" Karl nodded in agreement again, mustering some confidence of his own, "we make a pretty good team huh? I could get used to you by my side." Sapnap just grinned in agreement, scooting closer to Karl, his arm slipping under Karl's head, letting him just rest in Sap's embrace.

Karl smiled at the moon, "this is definitely something I wanna get used to."

~

Waking up alone always broke Sapnap's heart. Usually there was some poor excuse or sign that Karl was whirled away from him. With a heavy heart he got used to packing up a days worth of necessities for two and heading to the library Karl had built all those months ago.

Except this time when he entered the library, he realized he wasn't alone.

"Quackity? Do you need something?" Sapnap was shocked to see a familiar face at such a secret location.

"You can't keep doing this Sapnap, it's- I don't even know- it's wrong." Quackity gestured to the library as if Sapnap didn't already know.

"I have to Q, what else would I do? Let him try to make it home to a place he's completely forgotten all alone?" Sapnap paused, taking in a shaky breath, "I'm not gonna let him forget our life together Quackity, I can't"

Quackity raised his voice, "like he doesn't forget every damn time? You're sitting here playing make believe with your fiancé! Don't you get tired? Isn't it fucking tiring having him fall in love with you over, and over again? How are you okay with this!"

Sapnap stalked towards his usual desk, collecting all the papers. "I love him Quackity, I'd do anything for him, and I trust that eventually he'll figure this time travel adventure shit out, I'm not gonna give up on our life together! How can you not see that?"

Quackity just rolled his eyes. "Bullshit. This is wrong, you're interfering with Karl's - I don't know - destiny, future, powers, whatever the hell you're calling it now. Sapnap he's gone. Don't you see every Karl you get is different? That's not your Karl anymore."

Sapnap was seeing red. "Get out. If I fucking wanted you here I'd find you. Don't you have banking business to attend to? Can't you let me have the one good thing in my life? He's Karl, he's my Karl. And that's all I need." Sapnap pointed at the door, his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

Quackity shook his head but headed towards the door. "You can't do this forever. Don't you think there'll be a trip where he doesn't come back? Or worse, he comes back unable to love you? Arent you just delaying the inevitable?" Sapnap sprung up from his chair, sword drawn, but Quackity quickly slipped through the doorway. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Plus, you don't want to miss those precious first words right? I saw your entires Sap, what's today's plan? Tame cats if I remember right?"

"Fuck you." Sapnap slammed the door, trying to collect himself. Some disgusting voice in the back of his head was reiterating Quackity's words, telling him all was lost and that he was only setting himself up for false hope. But, it only took a glance at the array of pictures scattered between entires in his own diary to see the reason he fought through every first date.

"Hello! Um, do you know where I am?"

Sapnap looked up from a messy stack of first date ideas and dream SMP memory reminders to see the beautiful man before him.

The moment they locked eyes was the moment that nagging voice in Sapnap's head subsided. Every time they locked eyes for the "first time" Sapnap remembered why he'd fight for Karl every day if he needed to. But, there wasn't time for fawning over the brunette an awkward amount.

"Yup! You're in the library! C'mon, there's a map you'll wanna see- I'm Sapnap by the way! And you are?"

"Karl Jacobs! Nice to meet you Sap! Gimme the tour you clearly know what's up! What do I need to know?"

Sapnap gave his unknowing lover a calm smile, "I gotcha! There's not much you need but here's a good map of the lands!" Sapnap took a moment of serenity to appriciate the gorgeous man in front of him before Karl spoke again.

"I actually think I got it! Anything else in this musty old place I should know?"

I wish you knew how much I miss you.

~ Fin ~

A/N: Poor Sapnap. This gives me 50 first dates vibes. Also I wanted to paint Quackity as a voice of reason/doubt because I think his canonical character is that level of serious and caring for both Karl and Sapnap and I imagine their trio may have split over Sapnap’s decision to continually woo memory-loss Karl, or they could’ve never even been a 3 way thing, it’s up to interpretation. Also, I wanted to know your thoughts! Is Sap doing the right thing? Is he really just putting himself up for more hurt later? I dunno. Hope you enjoyed! Comments n stuff in reblog tags make my day :)))

[skullrock]

the (secret) santa - Jonathan x Steve

12 days of fics day 2 - the (secret) santa

pairing: stonathan

summary: Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: simply none

a/n: Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3 also I literally cannot find a good video to make a stonathan gif w sorry

30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t know Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least.

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars did not seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved.

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it.

===

28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah

“Jonathan!”

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh.

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. Oh. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that.

===

25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights.

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.”

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is firm against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” And you, he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat.

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart.

===

23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea.

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles for the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… impress him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I know I’m really, really good at it.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame.

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door.

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - Labyrinth.

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks.

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith finally ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a tape for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost certainly not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends.

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, yeah, of course he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and yeah, Bowie did look hot in that outfit, and yeah, they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages.

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the  universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

Later, 9 pm

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself.

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange.

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too.

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at  Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s.

They both smile the rest of the movie.

===

16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, sad.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just good.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “What?!”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I do listen to it.”

“More. Often,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how much he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how bullshitthat is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it.

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to Heroes until it fades out.

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“Sense,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said.

“Another?” Steve asks.

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says.

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching.

===

10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins.

“It’s not good enough!”

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite understand Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly.

“Jesus, o-kay,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out.

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at  a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t care that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not lazy.”

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood.

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, yeah, because I need help!”

“And I am helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head.

“Perfect!” he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate.

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it.

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about.

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing.

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

There’s always next year, he thinks as he’s wrapping it. Or his birthday. Or….

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan.

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that kind of like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers so bad. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift.

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way.

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints Jonathan on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics.

===

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was intrinsically Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve.

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand.

What? He mouths.

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. Him?

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside.

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He likes you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t need to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?”

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all planned this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time.

Shitheads, Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first.

Later, 9 pm

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get.

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch.

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry.

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he really kisses him. Jonathan finally lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. Weird.

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them.

“Impossible to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free and personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”

===

tags: @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​

[realm-sweet-realm]

A one-off request for @lonelyghostwriter: a story about Joey introducing Henry to the more innocent side of magic. This is just a goofy, whimsical ball of fun, and Joey x Henry is implied. This is the last one-off before I’m finishing “The Angel of the Ink Machine.”

The Boris had come out perfect.

The Boris had come out perfect!

And then it had decked him and run away to God knew where, but it had come out perfect! Joey was ecstatic. All he had to do now was hunt the creature down and make a few more and his dream would be fulfilled! And in the meantime, he had one more dream that he needed to fulfill, one that concerned his dear partner, Henry.

Despite sharing so much of his life and soul with Henry, he’d always kept the magic secret from him. He’d moved nearly all his supplies into the studio when Henry had moved in. Even the spell he needed to do regularly to keep disease at bay, he completed before Henry got up in the morning, with a pentagram hidden under the carpeting in their closet. But seeing their cartoon creations brought to life was worth the risk of scaring him- and anyhow, Joey Drew had planned how he’d do this years ago.

After dealing with Buddy’s body and before coming home that night, Joey made calls to Allison and Sammy. It was late, and in the excitement he’d forgotten that he’d fired Allison out of anger mere hours ago. Thankfully he’d been able to bribe her into one more session of potion-making. Sammy hadn’t picked up at all, but Joey could make do without him.

---

Henry woke up, far too early, to Joey shaking him awake with a big smile on his face.

“Huh? What is it?” Henry asked.

“I have a whole day planned for us. Get up! We’re meeting Allison soon. There’s something- a lot of somethings, actually- that I need to show you. You have an hour to get ready. Alright?”

“Uh, okay!” Henry was kind of used to Joey being full of surprises. He was fairly sure this would be a good one- they usually were. Within an hour, he was in the passenger seat of Joey’s car.

Joey took a deep breath. This would be the difficult part- admitting all he’d been hiding from Henry for the past few years. “So, Henry... you know how I tell you that Sammy and I go bowling together? Well, that’s not entirely true. Sammy and I share a hobby, but it’s one I didn’t know how to explain to you without showing it to you, and... anyhow, we perform magic together.”

Henry didn’t miss a beat. “Oh. Okay, the thought of Sammy doing stage magic is pretty strange. But it seems right up your alley- why did you hide it from me?”

“It’s not stage magic. And you’ll see why later.”

“Oh. Um.” Henry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Great. I can’t wait!”

A while later, they pulled up to a lovely brick house on the outskirts of town. Over the short wooden fence, Henry could see a lovely hutch of three rabbits. The garden had a lot of browning plants in it that clearly weren’t getting enough attention. “Nice place- must have cost a lot to get one in this area. Who lives here?” Henry asked.

“Allison,” Joey answered, ringing the doorbell. “I borrow books and buy potions off of her. And we’re going to make potions with her today.”

Thomas opened the door, rolled his eyes and called for Allison before retreating into the garage. Then, Allison popped her head in.

“Hey, guys! Sorry to call you here so early. But you know- early is the only time you can get fresh morning dew, and for what we’re making, that’s pretty important.”

“Of course,” Joey said. “I brought everything we’ll need. Let’s get cooking!”

Henry had been put to the task of chopping up herbs as Joey mixed three strangely-labelled vials into a pot of boiling water and Allison was outside collecting morning dew and whiskers from her rabbits. He was pretty sure at this point that this was some bizarre prank. Hopefully there would be some kind of payoff to it and this wasn’t just a waste of a Saturday, but at least Allison seemed pleasant enough.

“So, where do you get crow’s blood from?” Henry asked, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“A crow!” It didn’t seem like a good idea to tell Henry about the black market- at least, not yet.

“Okay. So, what’s this potion supposed to do?”

“You’ll see,” Joey said cryptically, “this is actually a pretty powerful one.”

A few minutes later, everything had been added, and the potion had boiled for just long enough, according to Allison. She scooped some out into coffee mugs with a ladle and handed it out to Joey and Henry.

Henry stared down apprehensively at the unappetizing mix of herbs and hair floating in the clearish-brown substance. “What’s it going to taste like?”

Allison smiled. “About how it looks, I’m afraid. But go on, down the hatch. Oh, and the effect might startle you, but it isn’t supposed to last long, so just try to have fun with it.”

Henry did as he was told, and Allison took his cup. He started to feel... heavy, and off-balance, and dropped down onto his hands. All traces of red melted from his vision, leaving the world in tones of blue, yellow, and green. Joey ruffled his hair, and it seemed as though his skull was smaller and thinner than usual. He said something that Henry heard as gibberish. Then, Joey took a sip of his drink, handed the cup to Allison, and before Henry’s eyes, turned into a black lab.

Henry yelped and skittered backwards, and yelped again once he caught sight of his own paws. But Allison was laughing- she seemed unconcerned, and she had said that this was temporary. So, Henry rolled with it. Allison ushered the two of them into the backyard, where they played fetch. A while later, as Henry was trotting back to Allison with the tennis ball in his mouth, he felt his teeth dull and his center of balance change once again, and he spat the ball back onto the ground. Joey came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, Henry? Do you believe in magic now?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, it would be pretty hard to deny at this point.”

“Thank you. Because I have a whole lot else to show you.”

Joey returned to Allison. “And thank you! I’ll miss this, you know.”

“I’ll miss it, too,” Allison admitted. “I’ve never made a potion this advanced before- and I might not have much use for it, but imagine the kind of money I could make from this! Oh, and thanks for testing it for me.” Allison went quiet a moment. “Let’s keep in touch, alright?”

Joey weighed his bitterness with his desire to do just that. “Sure.”

With that, Joey and Henry got back into Joey’s car and they took off to their next destination.

“So... you’ve been doing stuff like that for years?”

“Well, yes and no. Allison is more of a specialist than I am. Unfortunately, the stuff I’m most into has a bad reputation, but I’m going to show you that it can be just as innocent as Allison’s potions.”

Henry nodded. After literally turning into a dog, he wasn’t even going to try and guess what Joey had in store. After a few minutes, Henry found himself gazing out at a wooded area on the edge of town. Henry figured that Joey must have been driving to another city, but instead he pulled over onto the side of the road and  ushered Henry into the brush, taking with him a bag. Finally, Joey reached a clearing and dropped the bag.

“This is the place,” he announced.

It was an untamed natural area, with no trails made through it. No one was likely to come out here. It wasn’t pretty either- just a dusty field surrounded by trees.

“Sammy and I spent our first few sessions here. I spent some of my first sessions here alone, too- learning to summon things. And now, I’m going to summon something for you. A demonstration.” Joey’s back was turned to Henry- he was scared of how he’d react.

Henry was beginning to worry- Joey sounded like he was trying to seem positive, but it wasn’t working.

“What kinds of things? And how?”

Joey met Henry’s eyes. Henry didn’t seem too afraid yet. Still, there was no easy way to explain this. “We summon spirits and Gods from the spirit realm using pentagrams. The spirit realm isn’t hell, spirits aren’t demons, and Gods aren’t the Christian God. No religion is right about everything. Spirits aren’t angels and demons- they aren’t fully good or evil any more than people are. But it’s the more reckless ones- the fast-and-easy-with-the-rules ones- that are likely to come when you’re summoning one. Pentagrams are like a ‘help wanted’ add for spirits and Gods. They have a job description, which are in the pentagram itself. Pentagrams are like writing in their language. And, they have an offering of pay. The sacrifice for spirits is generally flesh or blood. Tasks that are more difficult for them, you want to leave out more of a payment, or the ritual has a higher chance of failing- no one took the bait, basically. Or, someone did, but thought your offer was so insulting that they found a way to bungle it up. Gods… they demand a greater sacrifice. But summoning Gods is considered insane even by pentagram users. A spirit won’t escape unless your pentagram has line breaks, and there’s a limit to how much damage they can do. As for Gods, well… even I don’t know how to contain them, or the consequences of letting them escape…”

Joey broke his somber monologue with a bright smile. “So, wanna ask a demon to grab us some lunch?”

“Uh...”

“Okay, I know I made that sound scary. But I’ve... actually been doing a summoning ritual every morning to keep myself healthy for years. It’s no big deal.”

Henry smiled awkwardly. “Can I maybe just watch?”

Joey smiled back. “Sure.”

And so, Henry watched. Joey drew up a pentagram in the dirt, lit a candle in its center, and then slit his wrist and let his blood drop onto the pentagram.

Henry rushed to the bag and pulled out a first aid kit to tend to Joey’s wound. Henry had seen the scars on Joey’s right hand before, and had seen them seem to grow and stay fresh, but he’d never gotten the chance to really look at them before.

“Y’know, this is actually a huge relief. I mean, it’s a lot of things, but... Joey, I thought you were self-harming, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. I’m glad you’re not.”

Joey smiled. “Thanks. So, are you okay with this?”

“I mean, I guess so. It seems shady, but you aren’t harming anyone.”

“Good. Because I’ve been working with the Gods of the spirit realm, and with their help, I brought one of our cartoons into existence. And I didn’t want to hide the magic from you anymore because I couldn’t imagine leaving you out of something that big! The toon I made is a Boris. He’s scared, and hiding somewhere in the studio. After lunch, will you help me coax him out of hiding?”

Henry’s face was lit up with awe and disbelief. “Oh my God. Of course! I can’t believe this! Joey, you should have told me sooner!”

Joey could practically feel the weight of secrecy leaving his shoulders. He still had to keep the murders away from Henry, of course, but he didn’t mind that. The murders weren’t a part of him. Magic was. “Thank you. I should have known I could trust you.”

At that moment, the pentagram glowed, and a picnic lunch sprang up from the ground.

“Let’s go see what those demons sent us for lunch.”

[nade2308]

For the Drabble thingy

5 Bruised - Jack Dalton

No pressure though

I think Nade and the concept of a drabble aren't on the same planet. I finished the thing. Hope you like this @starryhc. As for the inspiration for this story, awhile back I saw a post on Tumblr where there was a deleted scene from the 1x01 script where Jack worked as a stunt double on a movie set and we are blaming this fic on my dream brain requesting this as the reason for the bruises. Hope it's what you had in mind when you asked, Starry . The "drabble" is under the cut.

Jack let his kid take his fill by looking him up and down. Jack knew that he looked a little bit worse for wear, but that was normal in their line of work. This time however, it was from something else. And judging by the way Mac was eyeing him, he didn't manage to hide it well. 

(Next time, I'm asking for Boze and his special make up). 

It had been two months since they saw each other last. And Jack didn't know how he went two months without contact. But it was what Mac asked of him. Some time to rest and reflect. And Jack had so many objections to that... but he swallowed them and agreed. What else there was to be done? His kid needed time, and contrary to popular opinion, Jack wasn't going to push and hover. He knew when to back down when he wasn't needed. 

The ugly doubts reared their heads as soon as they touched down in the States, though. Why was Mac asking for some time to himself? He never did before, why now? Mac was also never been shot within an inch of his life and his girlfriend was killed in the same night so Jack reasoned with that. He knew about people and having to start over when they had a brush with death and some decisions they made in the aftermath of their near-death experience. Jack just learned to deal with it. As always. When Mac called him out of the blue at 1am and asked if he could come over, Jack was ecstatic to say in the least. He didn't even stop to think of the reason. Maybe Mac wasn't still coming back from his reflection phase and it was just something he needed Jack to do. 

Whatever it was, in hindsight he should have realized that Mac would notice. And he did. 

"Jack. What happened?" 

"Eh, it's nothing. Just... perks of the job is all." 

Jack tried for a smile, but it fell flat. 

"What job? Jack, were you in the field without me?" 

The question slammed like a freight train into Jack and he had to actually grab something to steady himself, which turned out to be Mac's forearm.  

"Whoa, Jack, easy there." 

The grip he had on Mac was strong and through the fog in his head Jack was thinking how it'd leave a bruise, the kid bruised so easily he was always having these small bruises from banging himself on doorknobs and table edges. But now these bruises were going to be from Jack, because Jack wasn't able to keep himself steady another way, and that was when Mac appeared in his line of sight and Jack realized he wasn't breathing right.  

"Jack, you've got to breathe. Just, follow my lead, okay?" 

Jack tried to nod, but he couldn't, he was so far gone in the panic that all he could do was squeeze Mac's arm harder. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, the phantom pain at the back of his head, the nasty concussion it left in its wake. 

He watched as Mac winced when he took a deep breath and suddenly Jack wasn't in his apartment, but at the edge of the lake, performing CPR on his partner, oh God, it's so cold... 

...

When Jack next came to, he was lying on his couch. He had no idea how he got there, but he realized Mac's thigh was under his head and he jumped with a startle. Then promptly fell back to the softness of his partner's body because his body seized in pain. The actor on that set that insisted on doing his own stunts did a number on him. His bruises had bruises. 

And judging by the way he stilled and didn't breathe for a few seconds, and Mac's gasp, Mac definitely noticed. 

"I'm going to assume that that did not come from a mission." 

"You know I'm off rota until you are back to the field, hoss. I ain't goin' out there unless it's with you. We had a deal, remember?" 

"I'm sorry. Sorry I shut you out." 

"It's okay. You needed time. I get it."

"I shouldn't have." 

"No hard feelings."

"I feel like you are hurt because I wasn't there to stop you from doing whatever reckless thing you did. Jack." 

"I was a stunt double on a movie set. Thank God tonight was the final scene and now I can rest." 

Jack groaned and any other time he'd be embarrassed that he buried his head in Mac's thigh to hide, but he was tired, hurting and if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he had a panic attack, which in his books was definitely something to warrant that kind of behavior. 

Besides, Mac could always kick him if he didn't want that.

"Where are you hurt?" Mac's small voice asked and Jack wanted to deflect, but he could detect the hint of worry in the kid's voice so he decided to be honest. 

"Where am I not hurt is the question you should be asking. That little punk ass kid that insists on filming his own stunts that we worked with did a number on me. I think I even have a bruise on my butt, dude." 

Mac chuckled above him and Jack fist pumped on the inside. He was carefully maneuvered into a sitting position next and - yep, that was definitely a big bruise on his butt. 

"Let me see?" 

Mac was asking him to see the bruises, that much was clear. And his voice brooked no arguments so Jack took off his t-shirt and realized just how stiff his shoulders were. 

God, I am getting old. 

Jack let Mac take his fill, he didn't have to see the way he looked to know he suffered a beating. He felt every bruise and every pull on the skin. If he was being honest... it kinda felt like he got what he deserved after what he let happen to Mac and Nikki in Italy. Finding Mac floating in lake Como was one of his worst nightmares come true. 

Cold fingers touched his skin and he recoiled, before he realized it was Mac and then he forced himself to relax. Mac needed to make sure that he was okay, and Jack was going to let him. 

"Jesus, Jack, this is a beating, not a stunt." 

"You should see the other guy." 

"Jack." 

"It's okay, Mac. I've had worse." 

"It doesn't make this hurt any less. C'mon, let's get you to bed. I'll get you some ice." 

Jack wanted to protest, how he was going to take care of himself on his own, but Mac needed to see to it that Jack was going to be okay and Jack was going to let him. 

"Okay." 

Mac, true to his word, settled him into bed and brought ice packs that he MacGyvered into sticking around so as to none of them should hold them in the hurt places. Jack groaned as the cold from the ice seeped into the bruises, but after a while it became a background sensation and he relaxed. 

"Thanks, Mac." 

"Don't mention it." 

They sat in silence for a few moments but Jack needed to know. 

"Mac, why are you here? Not that I don't want you here, I'm more than happy to have you here."

"I realized that I was hurting myself and you by keeping a distance. I was caught in the anger and grief about what happened with Nikki and me... being shot. On your watch. I realized that you are pretty much beating yourself up over what happened and decided to stop some of that train of that. 

"What I didn't anticipate is you literally beating yourself up. Now that's some quality punishment for things you are not guilty of." 

Jack didn't dare look up at Mac, it was enough that Mac knew what Jack was doing. 

Talk about self destruction... him and Mac had a lot in common in that department.

"It wasn't your fault. I should have said that before." 

"It's-"

"God help me if you say "it's okay". It's not, Jack. I pushed you away. It was as if I was telling you that you pulled the trigger." 

Jack winced. Was this kid going to expose all his inner thoughts tonight? 

"Sorry, that didn't come out right. Listen, Jack, I'm sorry. It wasn't okay that I pushed you away. It shouldn't be okay that you accept the guilt so easily. You were hurt, too. Remember?" 

Jack nodded. 

"I'm sorry, too." 

They were both dealing with a loss of a friend (lover in Mac's case) and what happened in Italy in different ways. But it looked like they weren't going to do it each by themselves after tonight. 

"Can I stay?" 

Jack was brought out of his musings and looked at Mac. Really looked at him. The kid looked pale, his cheeks gaunt and he was clutching his left shoulder. 

"Huh?" 

"Can I stay? I'm... My shoulder is hurting and I have some of my things here so... well I should probably text Bozer and tell him I'm-" 

"Of course you can stay." 

"Great, uh... let me just go and grab my phone, I left it on the table. And I'll take these now."

Jack shuddered as Mac removed the ice packs, now melted. 

"I'll get you a shirt." 

A moment later Mac left a shirt on the bed as he went to presumably text Bozer. And Jack smiled when he saw it was one of his old Army t-shirts, loose and comfy. Jack changed into a loose pair of sweatpants and got under the covers, careful not to press too much on the worst bruises. He was going to be sore in the morning. 

Mac re-entered Jack's room and Jack could tell he wanted to say something, but was kinda frozen in the middle of the room.

He raised the covers and tapped on the other half of the bed. 

"C'mere, hoss. Let's get some sleep." 

"I can... I can sleep in the guest room? I could roll over and hurt you, you know how I can get." 

"Nonsense. Come in here." 

"Okay." 

"I think we both need this, so it's a win-win situation." 

Mac smiled and as he settled in, he gravitated towards Jack that pulled him to his side. 

"I'm so sorry I worried you earlier." Jack could feel the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. 

"It's okay, Jack. I'm just glad I was around." 

Jack nodded in agreement and closed his eyes. They could deal with everything else in the morning. He was wiped.  

"Good night, Mac." 

"Good night, Jack." 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 3

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1       Part 2     Part 4     Part 5

Same day, later in the evening

“What are you doing, Pumpkin?” The Joker crawls next to you although he has an idea about why you look upset.

You’re on your tummy scribbling on a piece of paper and he can tell you are concentrating hard while working on the current project: writing down your name. Only got the first three letters then the rest went blank.

“I….I can’t think…” you intensely stare at the blue pen in between your fingers.

“Of course you can!” J reaches over so he can guide your arm since it’s clear you need help. “There you go… done. Now try to copy it bellow, alright?”

“Hm?”

“Try again Princess,” he taps on the sheet and watches Y/N struggling to imitate the word. “Well done!” The King of Gotham praises. “Wanna give it a shot with a few more simple words?”

“Mmmm…” you debate. “OK?...”

You analyze The Joker’s movements as he depicts four letter words, one of them getting your attention in particular.

“Love?” you smile, happy you deciphered the meaning.

“Yes, a basic…”

“Love?” you scoot over, more and more excited and it clicks for your boyfriend.

“It’s just an example for you to exercise and relearn how to write, understand? It doesn’t mean anything!”

You giggle and touch his nose with yours.

“Love!”

“No Pumpkin! I don’t love you, how did you get such atrocity from my note??!! It has no hidden meaning! I barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of like you and that’s it!”

You snicker and quickly slide to grab the yellow teddy bear, whispering in its ear:

“Love.”

“Aren’t you listening Princess?? Don’t start fake rumors!!”

Still…Y/N lives on her own little planet and her damaged brain grasped a wonderful concept despite The Clown vehemently dismissing his actions.

“Serves me right for being supportive,” he grumbles and resorts to diversion, the best weapon against your new found logic.

“Wanna read to me?” he points at the pile of children’s books resting on the nightstand: they are the best to use in your present circumstance.

“… … Read?... ” you ask, confused.

“Here,” J picks a random publication and gives it to you.

Might as well fully take advantage.

“Spoil me!” he buries his cheeks in your cleavage, guiding your free hand towards his green locks.

You never figured out how he doesn’t suffocate with his face glued to your skin; sometimes he sleeps like that for hours. Must be a special talent.

“The … ummm… the…. The duck…” you read the first page and massage his scalp, frowning at the words you can’t make sense of. “Cross… … crossed?...”  

“Yeah,” The Joker’s mumbled voice agrees.

“… the… g-glass…” you stutter at the sentence.

“Grass,” J corrects you.

“Hm?...”

“Grass Pumpkin, not glass.”

“Ummm… grass…” you continue to read the best way you can and he rectifies your errors until no more sounds emerge: The King is softly purring, a clear indication he’s dreaming.

You toss the book on the floor, fed up with the difficult task of organizing your thoughts; pampering him is better. You slowly tilt his head backwards so you can kiss him: The Joker frowns in his daze and you pinch his butt, chuckling.

“What is it?” he opens one eye and you pull down on his boxers. “Princess, we had sex an hour ago. Do you think I run on batteries?” the complaint is fast to follow.

... … … Batteries?... …                                            

You jump from the bed and stump to the closet, fumbling around for a couple of minutes before returning to a puzzled Clown.

You stretch the elastic of his underwear, dropping two batteries you snatched from the flashlight inside.

“How… how long do we w-wait?” you innocently ask.

The Joker bites his lip, attempting to contain himself yet he can’t: he bursts out laughing at your quirky solution while dragging you on top of him.

“You’re the funniest and smartest person I know, Pumpkin!” he cracks up, actually convinced he’s telling the truth. “Who’s my clever girl, huh?”

He’s talking about a girl again…What girl?...

Y/N peeks behind her and J reminds his baffled half:

“For God’s sake, Princess! I’m talking about you; you’re my girl! Can you get my phone?” he gestures at his mobile ringing by your pillow.

You give the cell to J, ignoring his conversation with Frost: you keep kissing him with the sole purpose of getting undivided affection.

“I guess Adam is here to pick up the cars you damaged,” he finally ends his chat. “Let’s go supervise the process. Don’t be disappointed, Pumpkin, we’ll have fun later. It’s your fault for destroying my collection!”

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

The Joker watches his crew sweeping the concrete in the garage: broken glass, pieces of metal and debris scattered on the pavement after his vehicles were hauled inside huge trucks in order to be transported to Adam’s workshop for repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Y/N!” he growls, frustrated.

“Y-you’re welcome,” you serenely reply without a care in the universe.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Princess!” he huffs at your indifference.

“Love,” you confess to the fluffy toy squished in your embrace.

“I heard that and it’s an aberration! Why do you keep persisting with this nonsense?! I’m literally stating the opposite!” J admonishes but who’s listening to him?

Not Y/N.

“Nolan is texting me,” he changes subject. “He wants me to meet him at his warehouse to inspect the boxes of ammo for the deal. Will you accompany me?”

“Hm?”

“Car ride?” The King of Gotham simplifies his request.

“U-hum!” you nod, preparing to enter the purple Lamborghini which luckily wasn’t in the garage when you smashed J’s cars.

“Frost, if you see me parked up the street in the driving alley, don’t come investigate, got it? This woman’s been pestering me for extracurricular activities, might not make it inside the mansion.”

“Of course, sir!” Jonny finds it wise to consent to his boss’s rambling.

“Tell everyone: if the Lamborghini’s rockin’, don’t come knockin’!”

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

You’re sitting on J’s lap, completely blocking the arrangements happening at the table: you’re more preoccupied with your game than whatever it is they are negotiating about.

“What are you playing, Y/N?” Nolan curiously inquires because your thumbs are surely moving at a crazy speed on your cell’s screen.

“Hm?” you stop and gaze his way.

“What are you playing?” the man repeats.

“Mmmmm… Tetrixx Bricks.”

“What level are you on?” Nolan leans over, his eyes getting big at the revelation. “Holy shit, Y/N! How did you make it this far??! I’ve been striving to pass level 98 for a month!”

“She’s smart, that’s how!” your boyfriend sassily underlines.

“Do you think that you can help me?” the guy slides his phone in front of you.

“I’m sorry, is this a gaming party or a business matter?!” The Joker scoffs.

“Well, we’re pretty much done: we accepted the terms, we just have to move the merchandise in the morning.”

You are already matching the colorful blocks on Nolan’s game, his face ecstatic when the obnoxious song announces with great fanfare: “Level Up!”

“Holy cow!!!!” he shouts and you return his phone. “Thank you!”

“Hey Y/N,” one of the mobster’s henchmen dares to voice his demand. “Would you help me too? I’m stuck on level 76.”

“I’m dead on 105,” another goon mumbles under his breath, stepping in the line forming to your left.

J would normally cut off this useless waste of his precious time yet he can’t deny the gratification building up in his heart: heavens knows how it feels to be trapped inside your own mind and his girl has definitely battled unimaginable odds to be where she’s at right now.

Living with cognitive impairment is not easy, but she’s still here and it beats the alternative.

“Good job, Pumpkin!” The Clown boasts at the long string of cell phones parading through your fingers while you aid Nolan’s team leveling up on Tetrixx Bricks.

And somehow his hands are holding you tighter, not even bored with the random outcome of his meeting.

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

You escaped on the terrace for a break and J is discussing the last details with your host: tomorrow you have a routine checkup, thus he has to wrap it up soon.

“Out of my way, half-wit!” Derek aka Nolan’s oldest son pushes you. Would he have done it if you were the same individual from almost a year ago? Nope. Apparently he believes he’s entitled to take advantage of Y/N since she’s alone outside.

“Why did Mister Joker bring you anyway?” he lights up a cigarette, annoyed. “Stupid monosyllabic bitch!” he ogles your summer dress, swiftly lifting it. “Are you wearing diapers?” he chuckles as you walk backwards, trying to process what he’s throwing at you. “Come on, show me!” he approaches and carefully scouts the premises to ensure you two don’t have company.

Perhaps the neurons in your brain are overcharged for the moment; nevertheless, they warn of imminent altercation: the dude’s a total douchebag.

“Are you shy?” Derek grins. “C’mon, lemme see!! Oooohh…fuuuuck…” he bends over in pain when your knee unexpectedly kicks him in the crotch: you used all your strength and he drops down, curling up in a ball. “God…dammit!” Derek shrieks at the defense he didn’t anticipate.

“I…I’m not wearing diapers!” you stammer and because he landed on the edge of the pool you roll him in the water also.

The loud splash makes The Joker wave at you, glad he eventually found you: he’s been searching around the warehouse for the last 5 minutes.

“There you are! Quit playing around, Pumpkin; we have a swimming pool at home!”

You rush by his side eager to bail before the asshole pops up from the bottom of the pond.

“Sushi for dinner?” J suggests and Y/N is not the type of individual to reject one of her favorite dishes.

“I…I love sushi,” you smile elbowing him. “Love.”

“Don’t start with me again!” The King barks at your obvious hint.

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

“Are you eating the last piece?” he glares at your salmon roll.

“No,” you offer the treat to him. “You…you need it more,” Y/N verbalizes her concern regarding his well-being.

“Can’t disagree, Pumpkin. You exhausted me you naughty girl,” J pretends to be super tired. “What can I do? Princess wants, Princess gets,” he inhales, resigned.

You’re not focusing on his whining: frankly, your intellect has been challenged enough for today. You cuddle in his arms while he chews on his food and watch TV without paying attention to the movie.

“Don’t forget tomorrow morning you have your doctor’s appointment,” J mentions. “I have to stay and wait for the guns I purchased from Nolan; you’ll have to manage without me. I’ll send an escort, deal?”

“U-hum.”

“Don’t yawn, Pumpkin. I’m the one that should yawn,” The Joker scratches his thigh. “This move sucks,” he pouts and turns off the TV. “I have a better idea,” he chooses a kid’s book from the stack. “Read to me.”

You open the textbook and although your brain is overwhelmed, you still make an effort for his sake.

“Mmm… Rainy… sky… Skies?...”

“Yup,” he turns on his side and nuzzles in your hair.

“Float over…hmm… t-town…”, your voice echoes in the room, soothing a worn out Joker.

Strange he can’t properly rest unless you read to him: after all J barely, from very afar, remotely, not even similar to love, sort of likes you.

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #337

“if i showed you my soul, would you cover your eyes?”

What's your favorite brand of chips? I like Lays best. Are you a good painter? My Painting teacher when I was in college last said I did wonderfully, but I definitely beg to differ. Before buying a car, do you usually test drive it? N/A Have you ever written a poem and then read it aloud? No, but a teacher has. It was so fucking awkward; it was very pacifist, the topic being about war, and it had some depressing tones of death; there was just silence at the end of it, and I still don't know if it was shock or "what the fuck, she's messed up." There was this one guy that went, "Nobody is going to clap at that?", though, which I thought was pretty nice and reassuring. Do you like pineapple? Yeah, I do. Have you ever met your favorite author? I don't have a favorite author. Have you and your best friend ever liked the same person? No. Do you have any freckles? Not on my face (though oddly enough, I did as a kid?), but on random parts of my body. How many different languages can you say goodbye in? English, German, and then Spanish. Do you like or hate the smell of fish? I hate it. Have you ever been to Sea World? As a child, yes. I'd never go as an adult. Do you know someone who suffers from short-term memory loss? I don't know how this is actually diagnosed, but my memory is absolutely fucking nightmarish, almost exclusively in short-term situations. I can remember the most obscure events from my childhood, but not what I said to you five seconds prior. I'm rather sure my medications have made it worse over time. Have you ever read any of John Green's books? I got like, one chapter or less into The Fault in Our Stars before the book got replaced with the Wings of Fire series, so I never finished it. Are you a protective person? I'm an immensely protective person over those that matter to me. Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No, thankfully. I'm terrified of earthquakes. What's one thing that makes everything in life worthwhile? The fact that to our proven knowledge, this is the only one we'll ever experience. What type of waffles do you like? (Plain, blueberry etc..) I prefer plain, but I can eat chocolate chip ones as well as blueberry and strawberry. Have you ever seen the show Wife Swap? Yeah, I actually quite like it. Do you like chicken or beef better? Or do you not eat meat? Chicken, I think. I eat meat, but wish I didn't. What brand of dish soap do you use? Dawn, usually. Do any of your neighbors have dogs? Yes, and they never shut up. Do you believe in fortune tellers? They're money-driver bullshitters. Have you ever been to one? No, and judging by the fervor in the above question, I hope you can tell I never would do so and thus monetarily support them. Do you like regular or chocolate milk better? Chocolate, of course. But I love normal milk, too. Once again, wish I didn't, though. Forcing a cow to constantly reproduce to lactate is pretty fucking cruel. Growing up, did you listen to country music? I actually did. Do you normally wash your hands in warm or cold water? If it's just a quick wash, it's usually cold because our water takes quite a few moments to warm up. However, if I'm looking to thoroughly wash my hands, it's gotta be relatively hot. Do you believe in mediums? I see them in a worse light than I do fortune tellers, so... Like sure, manipulate grieving people for profit, sounds great. Have you ever been to one? Obviously not. Have you ever dated someone on the football team? No. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. Do you like tomatoes? Solely when straight from a garden and on a bacon and mayonnaise sandwich. Otherwise I am noooot a fan. Are you a competitive person? Not very, but there's a tiny spark in me, really when it just comes to photography. I hate it. Google or Bing? Does literally anyone use Bing? What's your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia. Do you have any ceramic animals in your house or outside? Ummm I don't think so. Have you ever given someone flowers? Yes. What is something you might eat with a hamburger? Fries or mac and cheese. What is a sport that you’ve always wanted to play, but never got a chance to. None. What is a fruit that you might eat in the morning? A banana. Who might you send a selfie to? I don't send selfies to anyone. About how many pages is the longest book you’ve ever read? I THINK it surpassed 1,000? At least in the high hundreds. Who would you call first after getting engaged to tell them the news? Probably Mom. Around what time do you start feeling tired enough to go to sleep? Truth be told, it's usually arouund 7-8. I rarely make it to 9:00 nowadays. What trends do you refuse to give in to? I don't even know what's trendy right now. What subjects in history interest you most? As dark as it is, I find the Holocaust interesting to learn about. Are you superstitious in any way? No. How do you get rid of anxiety? What a relevant question, being in a partial hospitalization program right now. Coping skills that help me are doing deep breathing, mindfulness exercises, and a little jerk back to reality is splashing freezing cold water on my face. It also helps to talk it out with somebody, just get my feelings into words. Then if it's a true anxiety or panic attack, I have my "emergency" anxiety prescription. Are there any items of jewelry you never/rarely take off? My lip and tragus piercings never do, and I always wear two rings. Do you find yourself correcting people’s grammar often? Not really, no. It just seems rude and snobby to me, honestly, if it's not in an educational setting, like helping someone with an essay. Correcting someone in your average conversation is just... unnecessary, imo. Now if you're talking like in surveys and stuff, I definitely do in questions and such, but I don't point it out. Gummi worms: Yay or nay? Yay, love 'em. What do you do when you have ‘me time’? I only ever have "me" time, so what I always do... Do you lack common sense sometimes? I have a horrible lack of common sense, shit's embarrassing. Have you ever poured glue on your hand just to peel it off for fun? No. How do babies make you feel? "Nervous. They’re so damn breakable." <<<< Mood. Would you/Have you milked a cow? No, and I'm not interested. What really gives you the creeps? #!: seeing a baby move inside its mother's stomach. It will actually make me scream and/or cry because it just grosses me the fuck out. Whale sharks' mouths also creep me out big time. Do you ever eat leftover pizza cold? Yeah, I love cold pizza. When you're wanting a midnight snack, what do you normally get? We normally have cashew bars that I like if I'm really hungry. Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Obviously Pikachu. My niece loves Pikachu anyway, so she'd be ecstatic to see a real one. Or well, maybe I'd go for an Eevee. Not as dangerous with electricity and all but just as cute and small. Do you like marshmallows? Yeah. If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? No. It would ruin so many factors of the temporary nature of life. Things would lose meaning, get old and boring, it'd be much easier to take advantage of things... There are many reasons why I have no desire to live forever. Hell, I even wonder if I want an afterlife for those same reasons. Did you ever really believe in Santa Claus? As a little kid, yeah. Do you like quesadillas? I like cheese, chicken, and shrimp ones. What's the greatest/most influential song you've ever heard? Ozzy's "Life Won't Wait." Do you prefer to pull off band-aids slowly or quickly? I tend to do it slowly. What was the last thing someone told you that had you at a loss for words? Uhhh I feel like Sara said something, but I don't remember what. What was the last health scare you had? Ugh... I'm kind of living in one now. As my legs have been worsening, I'm becoming increasingly concerned I'm eventually going to need a wheelchair for "walking" longer distances. And mind you, "long" for me is probably short for the average person. My knees do nothing but crack incessantly and burn when I use them, and they frequently feel like they're going to give way, and in a few rare instances, have. It's my own fucking fault for not sucking it up and exercising with my mom in the room, so I'd like to move on. What is your favorite filling for a piece of chocolate? Caramel. Do you enjoy the sound of birds chirping? I do. If applicable, what’s your favorite drug, and why? I don't do drugs, so. What was the last TV show you binge-watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender with Sara. Would you rather eat burgers or tacos? Definitely burgers. I don't like tacos. Did your mother change her maiden name when/if she got marred? Yes. What was the last job you applied for? Did you get the job? Deli worker, and yes. Do you use TikTok? No. What decorations do you have in your bathroom? None. Our bathroom is pretty small. Well, the one we use, anyway. The one attached to the master's bedroom isn't cleaned up yet, but we'll use it in case of emergency. What year was your favourite band formed? (Before people think I'm smart, no, I looked the dates up, haha.) Well Ozzy was Black Sabbath's vocalist, and the band formed in 1968, but Ozzy became a solo artist in 1979. What's your favourite fruit? Strawberries. Have you ever had an out-of-body experience? No. Do you prefer gory horror films or the psychological ones? I prefer psychological. Are you easily paranoid? Yeah. Do you have a favorite obsession? Meerkats and Mark are kinda tied, haha. Are you a workaholic? No. Have you ever given a tattoo before and would you like to? No and no; that would be an awful idea, given I have bad tremors in my hands. Have you ever seen the movie Labyrinth? I actually have not. Would you rather be called pretty or hot? Pretty. Have you ever gotten a serious injury at school? What happened? No. Have you ever performed in front of my large group of people? Yes; I was a dancer for many years. Have you ever fundraised? If so, what for? You know how Facebook recommends making fundraisers for a charity of your choice for your birthday? I've done that for the Trevor Project and two charities for ovarian and pancreatic cancers. Are you wearing earrings right now? Ugh, no, even though I want to be. The first holes in my ears are just too stretched for normal earrings because I wore heavy ones too often, and I just don't have nice earrings. I still want to get very small gauges to put in the stretched holes. Name a singer whose voice makes you swoon? Fall Out Boy's Patrick Stump can do that, holy shit. "America's Suitehearts" does it for me, man. Y'know, when his voice goes all deep. Do your pets follow you when you walk around the house? My cat Roman is quite literally my shadow. Where I go, he goes. What do you do online? I seem to only exist online, really, so I've got a lot on my plate to choose from, yet I'm still bored half the time, haha. I'm essentially always watching or listening to YouTube, I play World of Warcraft for varying amounts of time depending on the day, I scroll through deviantART, check KM periodically, do surveys obviously, "work" at the wikis I contribute to, wander around on Facebook... idk, that's all I really do at least semi-regularly online. Haha oh, wait, I also check Craigslist like... every day for tarantula and hognoses even though I can't currently get either. Let me dream. Do you have any scars on your face? I have a couple on my chin from when I fainted and busted it open. What countries were your grandparents born in? In the US. What was the most damaging relationship (romantic or not) that you’ve ever been a part of? Ultimately, with Jason, because of how it ended. The relationship itself wasn't at all damaging to me, but the breakup shook my entire fucking world. When in your life was your self-esteem at its lowest point? Self-esteem? Now. I'm very unhappy with my weight going back up, my body is just in poor health in general, I'm not employed, not in school... I just feel like a lowlife. Who was the last person you cut out of your life? Do you regret it? I want to say my sister's mother-in-law. Sure don't, considering she revealed her disgusting support for conversion therapy. I'm civil around her in person, but I kicked that woman off my Facebook so fucking quick when I saw that shit. Who is the most attractive person you know personally? That I know personally... I would say Alon, but I haven't seen even a picture of her in forever. Summer, though, shares selfies frequently, and by god is she gorgeous. I know a lot a lot of beautiful women, asldkjf;awe. It's funny that I'm blanking on men, at least involving people I still "know"/are somehow present in my life. Would you rather look older or younger than you are? I'm fine looking my age. Have you ever dated someone who was very vastly different from your “type”? No. What is the biggest project you’re currently working on? I suppose you can count an RP plot as a "project." I'm procrastinating so bad on it because it is going to be A LOT of writing. Is there a person from your past that you wonder about frequently? Who? Take a shot in the dark for me. Who knows you best, excluding romantic partners? My mother. What are your thoughts on human creation? I believe we evolved. How many people have you had sex with? One. Have you ever had a yard sale? Yeah. Have you ever been surfing? No.

[lavendersoft]

My Soulmate’s Soulmate.

Part 4

Soulmate AU-

Synopsis: Before you meet your soulmate your world is black and white, without color. When soulmates meet, their world glows with vibrancy. The reality, however -as harsh and uncommon as it is- is that you are not always your soulmate’s soulmate.

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Taehyung (poly!au),

Warnings: N/A

Author’s note: jungkook is kinda dumb for the sake of plot. forgive pls.

--

Her mouth fell agape as she continued to stare at him. Taehyung started to get anxious, she looked like she had totally spaced out.

“Y/n..? Listen, I know it’s a lot to proces-“

“A lot to process? A lot to process?!” She immediately covered her mouth with the book she had been fidgeting with, her voice getting a bit too loud for a bookstore.

“I’m sorry. It’s just- yeah! Okay? It’s a bit more information than I had been expecting. I mean, I’m your soulmate and you’re my soulmate’s-” She places the book back in her lap and places a palm on her forehead, collecting her racing thoughts. Her voice was soft and her eyes cast downwards when she spoke again “It’s just that I know how you feel. I’m not my soulmate’s soulmate either.”

Another piece to the puzzle.

“He told me years ago, when we were still teenagers. I’ve always suspected he’d find his partner. Actually, I expected it. It just hit hard when it actually happened. It’s just difficult, I've been dealing with all this for so long.”

There was something in her voice, the way her eyes seemed glazed over, the way she lost herself in deep thought, the way her hands tremble as if she could break down right here, it was all Tae could do to keep from crying. This whole situation wasn't fair, they didn't deserve this. Especially not her.

“This is all new to me. I thought you were just ignoring me because you were already in a committed relationship, not because...” his voice died out as he realized what he was saying.

Not because you weren't my soulmate, too.

Her face contorted in what seemed like guilt or empathy for just a split second.

“I had no idea about Jungkook. To be honest, I wondered why he attached himself to me from the beginning, but I figured he was just friendly.” He was only half-joking.

She let out a genuine laugh and shook her head as if to say “that’s ridiculous, you idiot.”

“I just always assumed soulmate’s came in pairs.” He finished. Her giggles died down to a small, sad smile.

“Me too.”

After a moment of thought, she looked him in the eyes with sternness.

“I need you to be honest with me. How often have you seen him since you two met?”

“He’s scheduled at least six meetings with me.”

There was a flash of melancholy that crossed her face.

“He told me he was working overtime.”

She didn’t seem surprised, just a bit sad while she nodded her head and eyed the hardcover in her hands. Tae wanted nothing more than to reach over and hold her hand, to comfort her as much as he possibly could. But he knew that would be inappropriate, considering the current situation. So instead he studied her. Her mannerisms, the details of her face, the way her hair fell, the curve her neck that peeked out through her oversized nit sweater, the color of her fingernails, the twinkle in her eyes, the way the light from the window hit her features just right, making her look like a perfect muse for a painting. She was ethereal. And he was falling hard.

Taehyung searched her face as he contemplated confessing his feeling for her. To some extent, she probably knew. But she didn't know how he’s gotten but a wink of sleep since they met. She couldn't know that he can’t bring himself to bear the thought of never being able to be with her. There was no way for her to know how weak she made him, how he feels like sighing when she so much as speaks his name. She couldn't know. He felt like such an idiot, falling for someone he’s had a handful of words with. Then, he remembered his own soulmate-paired parents and the story of how they met. “Love at first sight,” his mother would always tell him, “It was like a light switch that could never be turned off. It was immediate and felt so natural, like breathing.” His mother had always been a hopeless romantic, that's where he got it from.

He took a moment before taking the chance.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night we met at the restaurant, Y/n. I’ve wanted so badly to see you but something inside told me that I’d never be able to get over you if I saw you again. And I was right. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

She finally let out the breath she’d been holding. She looked overwhelmed, which was understandable.

She met his gaze and for the first time, it felt like she’d actually seen him.

“Taehyung,” Her voice was filled with sympathy when she reached over to ever so gently place her hand on top of his own, alighting his skin.

“I think the first step is breaking the news to Jungkook.”

—

*Two weeks ago*

Jungkook sat at the tiny little not-so-busy cafe with a warm coffee in his cold hands. The weather had been getting so chilly lately. He instantly thought of you and how adorably whiny you get when your cold.

He grinned fondly as he plans a sweet little movie night, with lots of blankets and warm snacks as the fireplace crackles. He just wants to snuggle up with you while watching horror movies.

He brings the coffee to his lips once again as his thoughts snap back to the current situation.

His company had given him free rein over the cover of his new album. It was the first time he’d have full control over the aesthetic points and he was ecstatic. He had so many ideas rushing through his head constantly ever since he heard the news.

So many ideas, in fact, that he thought it’d be best to meet with a professional to find the absolute right path to go down. He didn’t know if he’d get another chance like this so he had to make it count. It had to be perfect.

It took about two minutes to find the perfect person for the project.

He was a well-established freelance artist that had worked with many different celebrities before, and his portfolio was amazing. Jungkook was impressed immediately and made the first call.

Which turned out to be the best and worst decision of his life.

He heard the bell to the cafe ring softly but paid it no mind as he was so lost in thought.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

At the sound of his name, he looked up to find the most handsome man Jungkook had ever seen. Dressed in all black except for the leopard print coat he had slung over his broad shoulders. His hair was a dark silver styled in loose waves, longer at the nape. Several piercings adorned his ears and he sported a plethora of rings with a simple silver coin pendant necklace. The man had already moved to take a seat in the booth across from him.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, we spoke over the phone? Good to meet you.”

It was all Jungkook could do not to scream.

What the hell? What the hell? No. No way, this can’t be happening! No! This isn’t real!

Taehyung hadn’t been paying too much attention to Jungkook’s silence, going ahead and pulling out different works and sketches from his bag to show Jungkook as references.

“From what you told me over the phone, I kind of went ahead and made a few rough drafts, you know? This one, I think, is my favorite.”

Taehyung pushed a piece of paper with beautiful different colors on it. Jungkook had to blink away the tears from his eyes. Jungkook’s eyes couldn’t even focus, they darted around the vicinity.

“Come on now, it’s not that good. Don’t cry.”

It was so good, so good. He’d literally never seen anything like it before. This was the first object he was able to focus on in what felt like hours at this point.

“I- I’m sorry I have to g-go. Um.. I’ll uh.. call you.” Jungkook new he looked absolutely insane, slamming his laptop and packing up in a panic.

To his surprise, Taehyung hadn’t looked angry at all, just confused.

“Oh, okay. So rain check, then?” He asked.

“Y-yes, rain check.”

With that, he ran out of the building, with a migraine unlike anything he’s ever had.

That night he had told you about Tae. He’d felt your heartbreak but had convinced you to stay, yet again.

Right before you two had fallen asleep that night he made you a silent promise.

He would make this work. He’d find a way to keep you from leaving, and to keep you happy.

—Two days later—

He made a phone call to Tae. They rescheduled their meeting. He kept it as professional as he possibly could. But he felt it, the pull of the Bond. He would have given anything just to touch Tae.

But not you. He won’t give you up.

He wondered how Tae so seemingly effortlessly hid how much he wanted Jungkook. I mean, he must be hurting so much, too. Jungkook felt a pang if guilt.

This was a mistake.

He shouldn’t have rescheduled. He should have gone with another designer for his album cover. He should have deleted Tae’s number. It would have been less painful for everyone involved.

But that’s easier said than done. Ever since he met Tae, it was almost like he couldn’t breathe if Tae wasn’t there. And seeing him again just solidified the fact that everything is so much... so much brighter when Taehyung’s near.

Jungkook is completely hooked.

That’s why Jungkook kept seeing Tae. Throughout the next week or so he scheduled so many meetings with the beautiful artist.

He told you he was just working extra hours.

Jungkook he fell deeper each time he saw Tae. The meetings became less and less professional and more personal. Jungkook learned Tae was from Daegu, that his parents were farmers, that he is the oldest sibling, that he can sing, and that Tae had the most wonderfully weird sense of humor.

However, each time Tae would crack a joke and send him one of those lovely smiles, Jungkook’s heart would clench in guilt.

Tae reminded him of you. The same odd, sarcastic sense of humor. The same bright smile.

He kept thinking how betrayed you’d look when you found out about these secret meetings.

“Hey, Tae, I have someone I’d like you to meet. I think you’d like her.”

If only he knew back then how right he was.

-Present-

Jungkook sat at his desk finishing up the editing for his new single. He’d felt so guilty due to all the time he’d put into meeting Tae behind your back. He planned on taking you out tonight to compensate. But that was before he got the text that made his heart drop.

Please meet me as soon as you can. I’m at the little bookstore on the corner. It’s important.

I’m with Taehyung.

He didn’t bother shutting his laptop or even grabbing his bag when he rushed through the door of his office.

He had the most gut-wrenchingly terrible feeling about this.

--

Taglist: @ourwhispersbecomeouranthems @fantasyjoon @ally22042000 @ireadfanficsonthisleavemealone @embrace-themagic @lexi-tries-art @ccmemoirs @just-call-me-trash-can

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ: Move in Day

Word Count: 4,288k

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

A Strawberry Cream and BBQ Drabble

Overview: It’s been five years since you and Hoseok were reunited. And things are not like how they used to be.

Genre: Hybrid AU - Fluff - A teeny tiny bit a smut - Rating is somewhere in the middle of PG-13 and NC-17.

Warning: Fluff. Absolute, tooth rotting fluff. Also some minor smut, light fingering, implied Daddy kink,  Hoseok bites the reader cause he’s a horndog.

Master List

Click here to read Strawberry Cream and BBQ from the 1st part!

A/N: Surprise! I couldn’t help myself, and so here’s a glimpse into the life that Hoseok and Strawberry have built together!

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You hummed while stacking another box in the living room, giving the room one last scan before turning to the two babies that sat in the play pen. “You know,” you playfully spoke to them. “I think that’s everything. Now Daddy gets to carry them all.”

They smiled as they spoke gibberish up at you. At only a year old, it was the best they could do for the moment. While they played with their toys, you slowly turned around. Your son and daughter weren’t going to have any memories of this apartment, but as you walked through the small rooms one last time, you softly smiled.

It had been five years since Sue moved to Hong Kong. According to Hoseok, she was doing well and worked for a high-end fashion company. You tried a few times to keep in contact with her, but each phone call felt forced and uncomfortable and as time went by, the conversations dwindled down to none. Hoseok found it to be a little easier, he’d tell her about the Dance Studio and your children and a few other miscellaneous things, even going so far as to send her pictures of the kids around Christmas time. But it was nothing like it used to be, and you had long ago made peace with that.

In those five years, you graduated from college with your degree and to your utmost surprise, your boss had handed over the keys and became the owner of the bookstore. It had been completely out of the blue, but apparently, he wanted a change of plans – and scenery since he packed up his belongings and moved to the west coast.

Hoseok also had a change in career plans too. Unknown to everyone except for the owner of the of the Dance Studio, there had been a talent scout in the audience that night at the May show. He showed up a few days afterwards when Hoseok was working and offered him a spot in their dance company. He’d be on a team with other highly elite dancers and would be touring the world with them.

The offer was a dream that every dancer wished they could get, and he got it. The scout gave him a week to think it over and inform him of his decision. You had been ecstatic for him, literally jumping around the apartment in excitement, that it took you a moment to realize that he wasn’t jumping around. Instead, he had looked glum.

“Strawberry,” Hoseok gently explained. “The company is in South Korea. Including all the practice days and the actual tour, I’ll be gone for maybe a year, if not longer.”

The reality of how long he’d be gone hadn’t kicked in until then, but as you sat back down on the couch, you thought of how great of an opportunity this was for him. This was a once in a lifetime chance, and you knew how much he loved to dance. Like the night of the show, he was meant to be on stage performing.

“I want you to do this Hobi,” you said, slipping your hand in his. “You’re a dancer, you were meant to do this. We’ll figure this out. I’ll take time to fly out before the tour, and then we’ll be able to decide what’s best during it. But if you give up on this chance, you’re going to regret it baby, even if you won’t admit it now, I know you will. Maybe not today, but you will one day.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, slipping his arms around you as he pulled you down on the couch. “I just got you back,” he whimpered.

“I know, but it doesn’t start right away, does it?”

Hoseok shook his head. “If I take it, I have to leave at the end of June.”

You mulled over the numbers, but ultimately, nodded. You were going to miss him greatly, but this was worth it all and then some. “Take it,” you repeated. “This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of Hoseok.”

He stared into your eyes, a smile slowly appearing. Instead of responding, he hugged you tight and bent his head to nuzzle your neck, sweetly kissing your mate mark as his tail wagged against the cushion.

Hoseok had been right. He was gone for a little over a year. But between all the phone calls, face time videos, and those few visits you were able to make, that year went by faster than you imagined. Not only had he gotten to perform like he’s always dream of, but the pay he received was more than what either of you thought.

His bank account wasn’t going to be low for a very, very long time.

“Is Mommy playing hide and seek?”

Hearing his voice, you smiled as you left the old bedroom, your heart warming up when you saw him bouncing your son Mick on his hip. The baby was giggling as his father tickled his sides at the same time, his little baby tail wagging rapidly.

“Oh, there’s Mommy!” Hoseok gleefully announced, pointing at you as you joined Hoseok’s free side.

“Is Daddy being silly?” You asked, kissing the top of Mick’s head and then Hoseok’s cheek.

Wrapping his arm around you briefly, Hoseok smiled at you before stealing another kiss from you. “Me? Silly? No idea what you’re talking about.”

Being mindful of Mick, you lightly pushed Hoseok’s chest, his laughter filling the room. As he played with you son, you went to the play pen where your daughter Jamie was sitting, her arms instantly raising for you to pick her up.

“I think Daddy’s telling a big lie,” you teased as Jamie wrapped her arms around her neck, coming to lay her head on your shoulder. “He’s always silly. A very silly man.”

The twins had been another surprise. A big one, but a very pleasant and worth every single moment surprise. The two of you were always careful and you took the pill every day, all except for one month. It had been a careless mistake, but you had forgotten about the little pills. You had been running the bookstore on your own for three years at this point and you were busy between scheduling author events, creating new displays for the store and window displays, participating in town events, and book orders, that it slipped your mind to take the small little pills. Besides, you and Hoseok weren’t having sex every single day.

But then, his heat came earlier than it should have and during those three days where you two lived in that bedroom, neither one of you remembered that you hadn’t been taking your birth control, and Hoseok didn’t use condoms since you were on the pill. Which meant, your body was extremely fertile and ready to make a baby.

Hoseok found out that you were pregnant the morning after his heat ended.

That morning had started like any other day. It was Saturday and you both had the day off from work – he still continued to work at the Dance Studio despite the sudden fame he acquired with the dance company – and after his heat, the two of you were taking full advantage of sleeping in.

You had woken up flat on your back and confused because Hoseok was snug in between your legs but with his cheek pressed against your stomach. It took you a few seconds to understand what you were seeing. The position was a familiar one – one he had been in multiple times in the last three days – but not with him crying as he smiled.

“Hoseok,” you groggily asked, propping yourself onto your elbows. “What’s wrong babe?”

He lightly laughed as he shifted so he was hovering over you, sweetly kissing your lips despite your whine about having morning breath. “Everything is perfect Strawberry. I know you just woke up, but did you forget to tell me something? Something that may involve your birth control?”

You frowned. He knew that your mind didn’t work first thing in the morning, especially before your coffee. But if he was asking you questions before coffee, then it had to be important. “Um...they’re in the medicine cabinet.” You murmured, rubbing your eyes when you paused. “I…I think I missed a few days…but your heat…”

The realization of what this meant made you gasp, suddenly feeling wide awake. “Oh God, your heat. Am I…are you even able to tell?”

He slowly nodded, his smile taking over his face. “Your scent’s different,” he softly explained. Seeing and feeling your emotions rocking back and forth, he kissed the tip of your nose and then your cheek to help you relax. “You still smell like strawberry cream, but there’s something else. It reminds me of those flowers that Jimin’s mate likes. You know the small white ones.”

“Baby’s breath?” You supplied.

“Yeah, baby’s breath. I know that’s such a strange smell to associate with being pregnant but…you’ve never smelt like that before. And knowing that you weren’t on the birth control during my heat, it makes sense.”

Leaning back, the smile on his face disappeared when he saw that you were still nervous. “Baby, I know we haven’t talked about when we’re going to start a family, but if you’re not ready yet, we don’t have to do this. It’s still extremely early.”

Taking a shaky breath, you lowered yourself back down on the bed and covered your face with your hands. This wasn’t the reaction Hoseok was expecting, it was the opposite really. Even though he wanted you to want this as well, his ears lowered as his tail stopped wagging.

Your mind was racing. How could you have been so foolish? Those pills were necessary with Hoseok being a hybrid. Now you were pregnant.

You were pregnant.

For some reason, whether it was Hoseok smoothing back your hair and caressing your sides, or the thought of being pregnant, your mind stopped racing, allowing you to think. The idea of starting a family had been talked about, especially after you graduated from college. Waiting until after you were out of school was something the two of you had immediately agreed upon.

It had been five years since you learned that he was your mate. Five years of loving, and learning about each other on a deeper level.

Removing your hands, you gazed up at Hoseok. The spot between his eyebrows was crinkled with worry as he waited for you to say something.

“I’m really pregnant?” You whispered again. It was almost like you couldn’t believe that it was true.

Hoseok swallowed the lump in his throat. Just hearing you say the word ‘pregnant,’ had his heart racing in an unexpected way. “Yes baby,” he answered. “You’re pregnant. If you want, I can pick up some pregnancy tests at the store. Buy a bunch so that you can know for sure.”

You could easily picture him buying one of every pregnancy test in the store, and it made you giggle.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, this time saying it for yourself and not asking him.

He frowned, not understanding why you were repeating yourself. Even as he honed in on your emotions, they were still scattered all around that he couldn’t figure out which you were feeling. He was focusing so hard on your emotions, that he almost missed the smile on your face and glassy eyes.

“Baby?” Hoseok hesitantly asked, brushing back a stray hair.

You simply shook your head, giggling as you grinned up at him, the tears sliding down your face. “We’re pregnant,” you said, looping your arms around his neck.

He gasped, hearing the way you happily said it this time. Tears welled up in his own eyes and he wrapped his arms around you as he settled back on the bed and pulled you against him. He kissed you everywhere he could, the bedroom filling with the sounds of your combined laughter and tears.

“Are these the last of the boxes?” Hoseok asked.

Blinking, you frowned in confusion, still lost in your memories. “What?”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow at you but chuckled. He had a feeling that you were taking a trip down memory lane, so he didn’t repeat himself. “I’m going to bring these down to the truck, then we can pack the pups up and bring them to the car. Then we can go home. That sound good?”

“Yeah,” you answered, smiling. There were only two boxes left and while he did that, you could pack up the few toys that you left out for Jamie and Mick to play with.

“You know,” Hoseok murmured, stepping in front of you as he held his son. “We’ll make new memories in the new house too.”

Feeling caught in the act, you leaned forward so you head was against his chest. He maneuvered one arm around you and rested his chin on the top of your head, momentarily leaning back so he could kiss your temple before getting comfortable again.

“I know. There’s just so many that we’ve made here. It’s going to be different in the new house.”

Jamie moved in your arms, forcing the two of you to lean back to see that she wanted to get down. Once you set her down, Mick immediately wanted to be with his sister.

With his hands now free, Hoseok pulled you in for a hug, gently swaying you back and forth. “And we’ll always have them,” Hoseok reassured. “They’re our memories for a reason. And we’re going to make more than enough to last a lifetime in our new house. Where we’ll have plenty of room for the kids to play and grow up in.”

You hummed in agreement, knowing that he was right. You were being sentimental but you couldn’t help it. “Alright.” You relented. “Go bring these boxes down and I’ll pick up the toys. By the time you’re back we’ll be ready to go.”

He smiled and with one last kiss to the lips, grabbed the last two boxes and made his way down the stairs with them. With a sigh, you joined your children on your knees, reaching over to give a loving scratch to their German Shepard ears. They released pleased giggles which made you laugh, continuing for a little longer before stopping.

“Don’t worry, Mommy will make sure to do it again when we get home,” you promised.

In no time at all, their toys and the play pen were all packed up and you were just waiting on Hoseok once more. He brought their toys and the pen down to the car along with their diaper bags, that way you each only had a baby to carry.

This time carrying Mick, Hoseok carried Jamie down to the car, the sun shinning brightly as you locked them into their car seats.

“Alright,” Hoseok said, coming around to the driver’s side window. He leaned in so his head was inside for the moment and sent a smile to the kids in the back seat before focusing on you again. “I’ll park in the driveway, that way it’ll make it easier to carry everything in.”

“You got it babe.” Leaning up, you smiled in the kiss, and watched to make sure that Hoseok pulled out of the driveway with the Uhall first, following right behind him.

The drive from the apartment to your new house was only ten minutes away, but when you pulled up to the house, it felt like you were in the country. The neighborhood wasn’t packed like some of the houses you looked at were, but there could have been another house comfortably built in between your house and your neighbors because there was enough space.

The white picket fence came up to your hip – personally the perfect height in your opinion – and there was a wraparound porch on the two-story tan house. You weren’t sure what the square feet was for it, but there were five bedrooms, an attached bathroom with the master bedroom, then a full bath on the second floor and a half bath on the first floor. It was huge compared to the apartment and what you were used to, but the second you and Hoseok walked in to see it, you knew this was the home that you wanted to raise your children in and live with Hoseok.

So Hoseok made an offer, and thankfully, the owners accepted.

Parking in the street, you got out and started unbuckling Jamie. She and Mick were already dozing off in their car seats.

“If you can set the play pen up in their room, they can nap while we start unloading,” You suggested when Hoseok started unbuckling a sleepy Mick.

“Yeah,” he agreed, carefully bringing Mick on his hip. “These two are so easy to get to nap.”

“You say that now, but just wait. When they turn two, we’re in trouble.”

Hoseok chuckled, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder, waiting for you to join him to walk up the driveway with you. He had already unlocked the front door and so he just walked in. There were boxes and furniture scattered about from previous trips he made, having recruited the guys to help when it came to moving the larger pieces of furniture.

Once the play pen was up and laid a blanket underneath the kids to sleep on top of, the two of you made quick work to bring in as many boxes as possible before they woke up. There were a couple hours guaranteed as they napped, but neither of you wanted to risk them both waking up early and still have to unload the truck.

Luck had been on your side, because you finished bringing in all the boxes and any remaining pieces of furniture by dinner time, and Mick and Jamie were still sleeping. Hoseok had even called Namjoon and together, they returned the Uhall back to the store it was being rented from.

When Hoseok came back, he found you in the kitchen unpacking a box of plates and stacking them in one of the cabinets, a baby monitor sitting on the counter with a red light on. There weren’t many moments when it was just the two of you alone anymore, so he came up from behind and hugged you, resting his palms on your hips and nipping at your mate mark.

Your body automatically jerked as you giggled, leaning your head to the side and back to look up at him. For five years he’s nipped at your mate mark, and not once has it gotten old. “What are you doing?” You teased, allowing your body to relax in his embrace and forget about unpacking.

His lips curled into a smile against your skin, his hands sliding across your waist and stomach, fingers grazing the bottom of your bra. “New house,” he murmured, his kisses slowing in pace as he trailed them up your neck and pressed his body against yours.

A soft moan slipped through your mouth, your responsibilities disappearing as your own desire started to match his.

“New memories,” he added, sliding his hands underneath the old t-shirt you wore. His touch lighting a fire on your skin. “I can already think of a few memories we can make in our room tonight.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, tilting your head to the side as he nibbled at your jaw.

The morning that you found out you were pregnant with Mick and Jamie, you and Hoseok had spent the day in bed to not only enjoy the day off along with the good news, but to discuss how many kids the two of you wanted. You remembered that day when he explained that it was possible have multiple kids in one pregnancy, which had been the case with the twins.

While both of you wouldn’t mind a large family, in the end, it was decided that it would be best to play it by how old the kids were. Hoseok had been adamant in making sure that he didn’t want you to overdo anything, especially by having his kids.

Within the Hybrid community, there were still owners who treated Hybrids poorly, and then there was the illegal Underground. It was the black market of Hybrids, and just like there were people who ran puppy mills for pets, there were people who ran Hybrid Mills, forcing the women to have babies and purebred hybrids for the highest bidder like they were some machine.

You had only heard rumors of it, but Hoseok once knew a girl who was a result of an illegal Hybrid Mill. They had both been too young to understand what it was, but now that he was older and he remembered what she had described, he knew what she had lived in.

Jamie and Mick were already a year old, and while you knew that people normally waited until their kids were at least a few years older…the idea of having another baby warmed you from the inside out. Being a mother came automatically for your, and while there were points you had complained during your pregnancy, it was all worth it when you got to hold your little babies.

“Hoseok,” you sighed, feeling his fingers undo the button of your shorts and zipper before sliding them under your panties and over your core, earning a moan from you. He softly growled when he felt how wet you already were for him. At the rate he was going, there were going to be some memories made right here in the kitchen.

Lifting his head, Hoseok said a soft yes before focusing on the other side of your neck. Since there were no marks on this side, he couldn’t help himself from lightly biting the skin.

Wetting your lips, your eyes briefly closed, feeling Hoseok’s chest rumble before hearing it as he smelled your lust and desire. “What if…we have another baby?”

Hoseok had been getting ready to slip his fingers in-between your folds when you suddenly asked, his heart beginning to race. Not in fear of having another baby while Mick and Jamie were only one, but in happiness. He didn’t want to push you, but he had always wanted to have his kids close together in age.

He leaned back just enough remove his hands out of your pants to turn you in in his arms, his eyes revealing his happiness. “Are you sure?” He asked, wanting to make sure that you were certain.

You grinned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him back for another kiss. “Of course, I’m sure.”

Thumping was heard in the room and for a split second, you thought it was one of the kids coming down the stairs, but then you remembered that they couldn’t walk on their own yet. With a glance down, you laughed when you saw that it was Hoseok’s tail hitting his thigh.

“I love you,” Hoseok said, promptly kissing you in-between everything he had to say. “I love our family, our kids. And I love making babies with you.”

You giggled again. As the two of you kissed, each one was more passionate than the last, leaving you wanting more. Even though you’ve been together for five years, and had a son and daughter, each kiss and touch were always like the very first.

His hands were palming your ass over your shorts, the counter digging into your back as Hoseok firmly grinded his hips into your, eliciting a moan to rip through your lips. You were lost in his touch, your hands roaming over his back…when a cry came over the baby monitor.

The two of you froze as if you were caught in the act by your parents and about to get punished because you snuck your boyfriend. But then you remembered. Hoseok was your mate, this was yours and his house, and the two of you were the parents here.

It took a second, but you were able to decipher who the crying was coming from. “It’s Mick,” you said, removing your hands from Hoseok while he straightened up. “I’ll go take care of him and Jamie while you go shower.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you pointed at the front of his pants. “I don’t think you need to scare the children so young.”

Hoseok glanced down, but casually shrugged as he grinned at you. “Fine. But don’t think this over.” Even though he knew you wanted to go tend to the babies, he wrapped his arms around your waist and suddenly pulled you against him. He heard the way your breath hitched, feeling his erection against your core again. Your cheeks were flushed, riling him up all over again. Leaning down, he kissed your ear lobe, gently tugging on it with his teeth before whispering in your ear.

“Don’t think Daddy will forget about this baby.”

Your heart skipped a beat – there were many things that you and Hoseok discovered after his first heat – but when he leaned back to look at you, you couldn’t help but lovingly smile up at him despite the sexual tension filling the room. His eyes softened when he noticed the way you were looking at him, and so when he kissed you again, it wasn’t rough or fueled with lust, but with absolute pure love.

That was the thing. These past five years were filled with so many life changes, that you were excited for what the future had in-store. Because no matter what, as long as Hoseok and your babies were by your side, there was always going to be love.

[sebspocketsquare]

Wishing you were here... 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (chatroom)

A/N: Hey guys! Today is my birthday! In celebration of that, here’s the third installment. I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think. Part 4 will still be posted on monday (:

Warnings: language, flirting, pet names, feels, nerves, i think thats it?

masterlist

“Kitten?”

The baritone of his voice leaves you speechless, unable to force a single syllable to leave your lips.

“You with me?”

He speaks again, emotion laced in the words and you find yourself able to speak a name.

“Sarge?”

He sighs into the phone, though it sounds more like a pleasurable release than not.

“It is you. I.. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t call.”

You’re silent for a few beats before you respond.

“You.. you said you needed to speak with me.”

Another loud exhale comes from his end, followed by rustling that could only be the sound of him rolling on his mattress, repositioning before he begins to talk.

“I do.. I.. I needed you to know how incredibly, sincerely sorry I am. I was so.. so angry when I found out I’d be gone an additional three months, and doll, I swear to you, I tried to get them to let me message you - even just once, but it just wasn’t possible.. I..”

He pauses, taking in a breath to restore what he’d lost during his rushed explanation.

“I was so afraid that you’d never forgive me.. or worse, that I’d come back and you’d be gone completely, with no way for me to contact you because I’d never even thought to ask you for your goddamn name.. sweetheart, I.. I thought about you every fuckin’ day, every damn moment. I-I never stopped..”

You’re still at a loss for words, staring blankly at your keyboard as you listen intently to him speak. There was no denying the guilt and regret each sentence carried, just as there was no denying the effect it had on the pattern of your heartbeat.

“Even though every day was hell, it made me realize somethin’.. somethin’ I knew I had to tell you as soon as I got back. Whether you felt the same or not.”

He stops again, as if he’s waiting for you to ask what his grand realization was.

 “W-what’s that?” You finally manage to whisper, picking at a random thread in the hem of your robe.

“I need to see you.. to meet you. I-I’ve wanted to, for a long while now, but I was always too nervous, too terrified that once you saw me, really saw me, that you wouldn’t want to speak to me ever again, but.. somewhere along the way, that wanting turned into needing.. You’ve had a piece of my heart for so long, I think it’s finally time we revealed the faces of our ghosts, don’t you?”

His voice shook with uncertainty as he spoke the last few words.

You know he’s just as scared by the idea of meeting you as you are of meeting him. The idea of finally revealing the identity behind the username.

“Kitten, please..”

He’s on the verge of begging, and the way the pet name rolls off his tongue has you on the cusp of giving in.

“I-I don’t know.. It’s so close to the holidays, I’m sure transportation would be expensive..”

Every excuse in the book is racing through your mind, lining up one right after the other at the back of your throat.

His next words throw you for a spin.

“Let me fly you out here. To New York. First class. If you don’t feel comfortable staying with me, I can get you a hotel room. Please. Let me do this for you… for us. I.. I think we owe it to ourselves, don’t you?”

He’s literally taken any and all logical reasons for you to not go right out of the equation, and though part of you wants to squeal with joy, another part of you remains uncertain. There are still seeds of doubt planted in your mind.

“All I need is your name and birthdate to book the ticket. You could come next week, I’m looking at flights right now.”

The fear in his voice has transformed into excitement, the sound of his mouse clicking repeatedly is barely audible in the background of the call. 

You decide to voice your number one concern.

“What if I’m not what you’re expecting?”

The clicking on his end ceases and his voice regains an aura of confidence.

“I just want to meet the girl who’s stolen my heart over the last year. All I’m expecting is for us to be as honest and open with each other as we’ve been from the start. Please?”

A few moments of silence seem to stretch on for hours, before you finally let out a shaky sigh into the phone.

“I-Okay.. I’ll come. I can talk to my boss tomorrow. I don’t think he’ll give me more than a week vacation, though.”

He lets out an audible sigh of relief, followed by the first laugh you’d ever heard him release.

“You have no idea how happy you’ve made me, kitten. Ecstatic.”

A smile brings a glow to your entire face, prompting you to chew your lower lip to keep it from getting much bigger.

“I just need your name.”

Providing him with the proper information so he can book your flight takes no more than ten minutes, but that’s when the next dilemma arises. 

He clears his throat before he speaks.

“Now.. like I said before, you’re more than welcome to stay with me.. I live in a three bedroom apartment and I have a guest room that’s very comfortable.. I can also book you a hotel if you’d prefer.”

A war wages within your head, but you sit in silence. Wanting to get your mind completely made up before you speak.

“I.. I can stay with you. I trust you.”

Another small breath leaves him, and you try not to imagine what the smile that surely graced his lips looks like.

“I promise I will give you as much or as little space as you like. This is all in your control, okay?”

You nod, before realizing he can only hear you, not see you. 

“Okay.”

x

The next five days go by in a blur, and before you know it, it’s the night before you’re supposed to leave for New York. To meet Sarge. 

You’re packing away the last few articles of clothing you want to take on your week long trip, when your phone starts to buzz from its place on your nightstand. Sarge, the caller ID reads.

You answer with a shaky laugh, “Hello?”

“How ya feelin’, kitten?” You know the real question he’s trying to ask, but he doesn’t want to be rude.

Have you gotten cold feet yet?

Slowly zipping your suitcase shut, you respond in a much calmer voice than before, “I’m okay. A little nervous, but I just finished packing.. How are you? Change your mind?” 

You decide to tease at the question for him.

“I’d never. I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.”

You wish you had his confidence.

“It’s going to be fine, you know. I’m going to meet you at the baggage claim as soon as your flight lands. We’ll grab food if you’re hungry and then head back to the apartment so you can relax. Like I said, you’re in control of how all of this plays out.”

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, arm crossed over your middle as you chew the inside of your cheek.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, doll?”

The affection in his voice makes you crack a smile. 

“It’s just.. everything will be different after tomorrow.. won’t it?”

He hums softly before he speaks, “Only difference’ll be that I’ll finally be able to put a face to your voice, and you’ll be able to put a face to mine. Think of it like.. the next step. I’m not gonna try to seduce you right away or anythin’ like that, not gonna do anythin’ you aren’t comfortable with. I just.. want to finally be near you. To see you.”

You will his words to soothe your fears, to convince you that everything really would be okay. It worked well enough to allow you to breathe without trembling.

 “You want me to call you to wake you?”

You laugh softly, moving your suitcase from your bed to a spot beside your bedroom door. 

“If you’d like. I can tell you what I’m wearing so you’ll be able to pick me out of a crowd.”

“Please tell me it’s a chicken costume.” He laughs, which prompts you to join in.

“No, no. I’m afraid not.. Black sundress. Red shoes. My luggage is red, too.”

“You like black and red, huh?”

“My favorite combination of colors.”

x

Waking up at 3am to make a 6am flight proved to be a lot more difficult than you anticipated, but Sarge called you at the exact same time your alarm went off, offering to stay on speakerphone while you got ready to keep you awake. 

“I’ve got to take a shower, Sarge, can I call you back in ten?”

A low rumble comes from his end of the call, a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl. “Of course you can, kitten. I’ll be waitin’ for ya.”

Showering and getting changed took a bit more time than you anticipated, especially when you decided to apply a light amount of makeup as well. Before you even get a chance to call back, he’s calling you.

“You worried me for a minute, had to make sure you didn’t fall asleep or change your mind, y’know..”

You laugh quietly, putting your purse over your shoulder and grabbing your suitcase as you make your way to the front door of the apartment. “I’m actually about to walk out my door now. My cab is waiting downstairs.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, then his voice comes out in an almost-whisper. “It’s really, finally happening, isn’t it?”

Another laugh leaves you as you exit your apartment and lock the door behind you. “I’ll let you know when I get on the plane.. and I’ll be in New York in less than 7 hours.”

“I’ll see you soon, kitten.”

x

The flight to New York just so happens to go right through a storm, making it the bumpiest most nerve wracking  journey you’d been on, ever. By the time you land, your flight is 45 minutes behind schedule and you’re not sure if you want to puke due to the turbulence or anxiety. 

You exit the plane on shaky legs, following the signs through the airport, to eventually get you to baggage claim. 

You’d been too distracted to even fish your phone out of your purse, until you finally reach the baggage area and see that your cargo had yet to be unloaded thanks to the weather. 

Instead of getting out the device that might only cause you more heart palpitations, you decide to take a slow look at the people lingering nearby. There’s an elderly lady, staring at the announcement board as if she can make it change with her mind. There are a few couples clinging to each other, faces buried in necks and chests, fatigue evident in their eyes. There are a few stray men and women, eyes glued to their phones, but nobody stands out to you.

You see your luggage finally coming down the revolving belt and quickly move forward to grab it, but one of the wheels gets caught under the track. 

Teetering on the edge of panic, you open your mouth to ask someone, anyone, for help, but a presence behind you and a helping hand over your own stops your voice and heart in their tracks.

“Here, kitten. Let me help you.”

He tugs the large bag from the corral with ease, setting it down beside him. 

You’re practically in a daze and can’t seem to raise your eyes to meet his, gaze glued to the beat up doc martens that adorn his feet. 

Once his hands are free, they both move to slowly skim up your arms, before one rests on the small of your back and the other cradles your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“Hey. It’s just me.”

His breath washes over your face this time, and you blink several times before your attention finally focuses on the sight before you.

He’s beautiful. More beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined.

He’s got pillowy pink lips, hair the color of warm chestnut, and eyes the color of the clearest, bluest parts of the ocean. His hair is long enough to tuck behind his ears with a bit of a curl in the end, and his beard has been tamed into a nice shave. He’s smiling, and you can tell he’s taking in each one of your features, just as you’re taking in his.

You can’t help but feel he looks familiar, but your trance is broken when someone bumps into you from behind, sending you stumbling against his chest. If it weren’t for his hand on your back, you might have toppled over.

His gaze finally leaves your face and he scans the crowd around you, noting how it was only getting busier. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, he grips the handle of your suitcase with one hand and leads you towards the exit with the other, applying gentle pressure to the center of your spine. 

The walk to his car is completely silent, as if you’re both too afraid to break it. 

Once you’re in his car and out of the airport parking lot, he looks at you for a brief moment. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks with a soft smile. 

You let out a breathless laugh that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in, nodding. “Just a little, I.. I guess I never expected you to be.. so..”

He cocks his eyebrow when you pause, a tiny frown on his face, as if he’s expecting you to say something bad. Warmth floods his cheeks at your next words. 

“So pretty.”

You’re just as embarrassed as he is once the thought leaves your mouth and you drop your gaze to your lap, cursing yourself in your head for being so forward.

“Well..” He hesitantly moves his hand across the center console, placing his fingers over yours where they lie in your lap. “You’re very pretty, too.. for the record.”

He gives your hand a little squeeze, which you return, flashing him a small smile, too.

TAGS: (sorry if you dont like being tagged, its been so long since i’ve posted idk who to tag anymore lolol. @mindingmyownbusiness @plumfondler  @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @loricameback @tinaferraldo @geminimoonbeamx  @preserumsteverogers @moderapoppins @lowkeysebby @buckyshattergirl  @jayattemptstoruletheworld   @the-observant-fangirl @moondancewrites @moonbeambucky @trinityjadec  @stevieang  @bionic-buckyb @eyecandybarnes @propertyofpoeandbucky @promarvelfangirl @ballyhoobarnes @bucky-plums-barnes @cate-lynne @witchymarvelspacecase @imaginingbucky @theimpossibleg1rl @babygurl8840 @wonderlandmind4 @buckysthing @formulafun @curvybihufflepuff @fanficsformarvelkillme  @shadyskit

[ailuronymy]

Book Club: Tallstar’s Revenge, chpt. 10-18 overview.

Human voices as heard by cats, courtesy of two experts in the field of ailurolinguistics:

"ghghtaa'ppgthannneetltssssa!” - S. 

“Nnghavva'thalpssasann!” - K.

This week we’re discussing this chapter through these nine questions. Please feel welcome to do the same and @ailuronymy + use the tag #ailuronymy writing challenge. Happy reading and I’m looking forward to seeing your feelings about this book.

1. First impressions? 

K. Everyone has many important discussions, that actually hold zero weight at all. Many things happen for absolutely no reason. I'm in pain.

S. REAL.

2. How did you feel reading this section?

S. Emotionally conflicted. There's always some frustration, but there were also moments of genuine joy, which was a very welcome surprise.

K. But for real: pleased to see some genuine growth and goodness from my favourite characters, but so upset at the bad directions taken.

3. What chapter did you find most interesting/moving/effective, and why?

S. I keep forgetting to mark things out by chapter in my notes, but I feel like the time Tallpaw spends with Reena really brought me the most pleasure to read.

K. I think I got the most out of the first half of Chapter Twelve, the Gathering. I loved the back-to-back of Heatherstar making good choices, the new warrior trio jumping around and being sweet, and Dawnstripe Finally Giving Us Some Good Fucking Advice. K. Honorary shout-out to Tallpaw finally telling his dad off in Chapter Eleven though.

S. YES. 

4. What chapter did you find least interesting/effective/most frustrating, and why?

S. Most frustrating is absolutely the aftermath of both Brackenwing's death and later Sandgorse's. I was not coping with how stupid and unreasonable everyone was being, but in a way that felt entirely manufactured, and not actual grief.

K. Chapter Eighteen pissed me off to see Tallpaw be taken in such a tangent. Like, everyone else I can kind of ignore because I wasn't expecting Windclan to be very good about any of it since Erin's doing her bullshit.  K. But Tallpaw.... I was hoping Tallpaw would be better.

5. Is there a passage that stuck in your mind–for good, or not-so-good reasons? What is it, and why did it stand out? Try breaking it down and analysing what this passage does and how.

S. I really loved Dawnstripe's conversation with Tallpaw. That stood out to me as basically unique in Erin Hunter's writing so far, especially in this book.

K. “Tallpaw stiffened. Did Sandgorse think he’d change his mind about becoming a moor runner now that he’d been underground?” K. I loved seeing him just finally Snap. K. Not to mention the very real young gay feeling of having that dread in your stomach, of going "Oh no, am I going to have to keep this up?"

6. Have your feelings changed towards any character in this next section? What caused this change?

K. Sandgorse lost all rights! K. Can't believe I almost liked him for a second, the hope for an okay dad got me there.

S. It’s okay. I was too jaded to be taken in, but your optimism isn't a weakness. S. I hate their relationship and I Love that Sandgorse died but God I Hate Tallpaw's reaction to that so much. It's so jarring and feels way off from reality.

K. Also: I would die for Doespring/Stagleap/Ryestalk, I adore them so much. Same with Reena, she can stay.

S. For me, the biggest change is that I'm losing a lot of affection and attachment to Tallpaw the longer he keeps up this Sandgorse whinge. Like, I was ecstatic when Sandgorse died, but now that Tallpaw's only personality trait is being miserable about Sandgorse, it's really like he never left and I hate that passionately. 

7. How do you feel about pacing in the book so far? Is the story moving too fast, too slow, just right? Why do you feel this way?

S. Way too slow.

K. The pacing is dry and slow and sad. So much of what's happened so far could be condensed and written so much better.

S. You could cut out a solid half of what's written and it'd be a better story. It's all fat right now, where it could be lean and tasty, medium-rare spiced narrative.

8. How do you feel about the visitors in this section? Is it a new element you really like, or does it feel out of place? Share your thoughts on this new development!

K.  From the notes: Okay, I don’t like what’s happening with the visitors and I don’t think they should even be here, but I do think that they seem like fun little people. Like for all intents and purposes the visitors should not exist, but boy am I always glad to see characters I don't hate!

S. Oh, that's so interesting! I actually feel quite positively to the idea of Windclan's regular visitors, and it's definitely something in my canon. I don't like any of how canon's handling it (surprise, surprise) but I like that this idea has been broached, and it feels entirely right to me that Windclan is the one to do it.

K. I don't disagree with you there, I think for me it's just frustrating seeing how the Erins are introducing and handling it that's bugged me. Like, Windclan is on the outskirts of everything and it makes total sense that they'd be much more likely to run into like... farmcats and the like more than other clans. That doesn't bug me. It's just like... literally everything about how they've been set up and how secretive things are and blah blah blah that makes me lose it a little. 

S. Totally. I’m with you. 

9. If you could change one significant moment in this section–a piece of dialogue, an event, a bit of world-building–what would you want to change, and what do you think would be the ramifications of that for the rest of the story?

K. THE CLAN NEEDS TO STEP UP FOR TALLPAW, END OF STORY K. But yeah no, there's lots of shit that needs fixing but DAMN if the clan doesn't need to stand up for Tallpaw and defend and support him. Boy takes SO much blame and he deserves none of it.

S. I honestly wonder how much difference there would be if Palebird had more support/Brackenwing half-adopted Tallpaw (you know, the way queens are said to co-raise kittens but never do). Because this boy is so unloved and his self-esteem comes from feeling totally unwanted and undervalued, so he clamours for Sandgorse's approval because he doesn't get it from Palebird, but Sandgorse rejects him and makes it worse, so Tallpaw is stuck really craving validation and not really having any outlet to develop his sense of self or confidence in his own value and abilities. Obviously Dawnstripe is doing her best, but that's not a substitute for parental neglect and abuse.

K. Dawnstripe: Look at him! You fucked him up, is what you did. He has anxiety!

Final notes:

S. I knew Sandgorse was going to die because it was mentioned in some of the pages I looked at for the story I'm writing. And I thought he was going to be murdered by Sparrow, because that's how all the wikis talked about it.  S. So when he died of his own idiot hubris, I was like, "wait what" and kept waiting for it to be revealed that Sparrow killed him in the tunnel and then made it collapse to cover that up. S. So I thought it was going to be a story of Tallpaw Solves A Murder No-one Will Believe Was Committed. And that... didn't happen. He just got shitty and hateful. K. Tbh that would make more sense and also be leagues cooler than. Any of this S. Yeah! I thought it would be kind of dope and then Talltail would confront Sparrow and be like, "you're not worth it," and be the bigger man or whatever, that whole thing, learn the meaning of friendship or whatever, and go home.   S. Instead! Sparrow didn't do it, so now Tallpaw's just a wreck out of control lashing out at everyone and decides to hunt down someone to kill them for not dying and/or saving his outrageously shitty dad. S. To me, a much more likely story is Tallpaw experiencing guilt because he's relieved that Sandgorse's gone and he's like, 'oh my god I'm a bad person I shouldn't want my dad to be gone.' Like that's a trauma narrative that people who've, you know, experienced significant abuse can actually relate to. K. Not to mention that like. Before Sandgorse dies, his one action is to blame his son for being awful at everything and to pretty much disown him.  K. But YEAH, lets feel Sad for That Guy

K. [Shrewpaw] was bad before and frankly I am beyond tired with him now. S. He has no real narrative purpose, is what peeves me. I know that's a bit highbrow for an Erin Hunter story, but like. You should be thinking about function in a story, especially one for children, because in children's lit., you don't really have the space for excess. You should keep the story trim and clean. S. Giving Erin Hunter more pages, like they do in these super editions, enables their worst habits, which is the fact I don't think they consider function like ever. So you have all this... flabby, pointless dialogue that doesn't move anything forward or reveal any new characterisation.

K. Oh, some other choice notes from the Gathering: K. Stagleap: Hey bro, come see this hot Riverclan babe with me.  Tallpaw, gay: Uhh I’m very interested in the announcements, actually, K. Dawnstripe accidentally playing wingman for her apprentice is coincidentally very funny. “Tallpaw didn’t like the way the young tom was eyeing him—like a hunter assessing prey.” Hmmmmm Okay Buddy, S. I was genuinely so charmed by Stagleap's crush on Shimmerpelt. That felt real and true and I loved it. The rest of the gathering let me down a lot, but like. Erin Hunter gatherings always do. They don't know how to let a scene breathe. K. Stagleap, Ryestalk, and Doespring are so charming. I love when they come onscreen. They inject a lot of cute moments into a very dour book. K. Gatherings are my favourite in concept so I always get SO excited to read them. But they almost always suck.  S. It's wild to me that Erin Hunter is never like, "maybe fun is fun." I do resent it. S. I love the organised chaos of a gathering, and how different it is to literally every other part of warrior life. It's something that I actively have to resist putting in stories, because I always want to do it even when it adds nothing to what I'm telling. It's just so fun to write and to read. S. Literally one of my notes is just "Ahh!!! A Gathering! Finally!" K. Me too!! Mine was "GATHERING TIME, GATHERING TIME, my favourite part of any book!" S. [dabbing frantically because cats are going to hang out under a full moon] K. Like if you were going to let a scene have its moment and play it out, it would be the Gathering. Like I'd love for the announcements to happen and then they all just mingle and enjoy themselves until the moon clouds over. Instead of Announcements, Moon Over, Scene Done, Go Home.  S. Gathering speedrun: if you clip through the deputy, you can skip the personal connection and go right to the leaving while being kind of bored and miserable.

S. [after Sandgorse’s suggestion of hiding from invaders in the tunnels or using them to run away] why. [Raiders are] literally not going to be like, “oh I guess Windclan’s not here and we should go home,” they’ll be like, “great Windclan’s not here, this IS our new home.” Sandgorse talks a big game about not being a coward, but the tunnellers’ solutions are literally only “just hide in a hole” or “run away.” S. I got so mad about that. The tunnellers being like, "we were doing important tunnel business to protect the clan, we could be here to protect the clan," and they get chewed out for that and Sandgorse has the brass balls to be like, "well our tunnels will save lives." S. I'm like, will they? S. Or will you die in one in a pathetic final display of defiant idiot masculinity?

S. That said, something that did chatter my suspension of disbelief like cheap glass: the visitors' names. K. They’re bad.  S. Algernon???? K. ALGERNON K.  ALGIE??? S. "They were named by twolegs" please say psyche S.  I just... cannot believe in a world where a cat hears some word humans repeat at them a lot, and goes, "that's my name, I will introduce myself to other cats using this sound." Instead of like... getting a name from other cats, or picking a name for themselves. Especially if the cat doesn't live with those humans. S. It's more real to me for a cat to be like "oh yeah that's what the humans think my name is, they don't speak cat very well but they're trying," than being like, "I will take that garbled junk as my name." K. I love that so much better. S. I find it so funny that cats would hear human languages basically like cthulhu speech, and be with a friend like, [listens] Human in the garden: ghghtaa'ppgthannneetltssssa! Cat: "hold on, my person is calling, I need to check on them." Cat, returns: "It's fine, they forgot where the door was so I showed them. What were you saying?" K.  Cat: "Are you good?? Do you need assistance?" Human: Nnghavva'thalpssasann! Cat: "Ohh, you want pets. Here, I can give you some chin rubs. You like those? God, you're so stupid and I love that about you." S. Cat: "my humans are so smart, they know about seven words, kind of." S. Cat: "I call that one 'Very Tall Getter of Things From the Shelf' and I call that one 'Cuddles Me Warmly.'"

[frossen-fantasi]

Part 2 of 4 - The Reckoning

As always, this charades game was hosted by Sven the reindeer.

There was tension between the sisters, which seemed to go unnoticed by Kristoff, but it was commented upon with quick, sly remarks by Olaf.

Such an almost continuous stream of words rolled out of his mouth that no one really seemed to follow them, with perhaps the exception of the reindeer Sven who at times looked down at him with curiousity or irritation - with an obvious attraction to that big carrot.

Kristoff acted out sliding a ring onto a hand, self-hugging, and two people angrily pointing fingers at each other quarreling. Anna guessed “sisters,” which Olaf noticed. It wasn’t guessed correctly by anyone, but turned out to be “Marriage.”

Olaf bounded out in front of everyone, laughed and pulled a slip of paper. Quickly he ran around shaking a hand-branch at them. The little snowman was joyfully bouncy and acted out like he was one, then two people talking to each other, switching quickly from side-to-side. He pointed to Elsa’s hand, next the floor, then jumped straight up and down. Lots of wildly random guesses totally missed the mark, and no one got Olaf’s answer, which was “Breaking the ice.”

Elsa elegantly placed her first draw back into the basket, being stared at by Sven shaking his head in disapproval. For her second draw, Elsa made heart-shaped motions in the air with her hands, which Olaf guessed correctly as “Love.”

Anna started out making the same love-symbol by shaping her hands and body, but went on to holding hands, hopping up and down, making a silly duck face, and twirling around, holding out her arms and letting her skirt swing to a hoop, which turned out to be “Sisters.”

And so went their game on into the night, until it was Olaf’s bedtime - and for that reason it was also everyone else’s.

Elsa still had the parents’ bedroom as her own, so that was where she went, but it wasn’t long before Anna joined her, in a very cute nightgown with a big bow on it.

Elsa noticed the nightgown Anna was wearing. She flustered and blushed profusely.

“Wow, Anna. You look, great.”

She wasn’t sure if she should put her gaze on Anna’s beloved face, that darling nightgown, or the lovely bow slightly loose around her cleavage. Stop staring! she thought. That’s why she ended up scanning up and down between her face and the dress. Hum… is it the nightgown? This realization struck her like electricity passing through her body.

The last time she saw Anna in nightwear... it was usually something cute and comfy. But her style and Elsa’s were a little different. This one was a little more wide-neck, a little bit more… coquette fashion.

“Found something you like?” Anna’s tone was almost teasing.

“I – where in the world did you find that nightgown?” Elsa looked away, pretending to smoothen out the bedsheet. Anna shrugged and got under the covers.

“A lady gave it to me as a gift. She said it’s for my husband to be. I don’t know why she said that. Do you like it? This bow can literally be untied.

Come here.”

Anna lifted the covers and gestured for Elsa to get under them along with her.

“I see. It’s for Kristoff then.” Elsa’s jaw was set and frost crawled from her hands. She laid her head on her pillow, keeping her distance from Anna.

Anna giggled, “I’m just teasing, but I’m glad you like it. You’re always wearing beautiful gowns and dresses.” There was a brief pause and Elsa could see the shift in her sister’s eyes. They looked forlorn. “You look good in everything.”

Elsa could feel her face warm. Luckily it was dim enough in the room that Anna couldn’t notice… she hoped.

“You always look lovely yourself, Anna.”

Anna’s gaze still hinted sadness, but this soon washed away as she playfully replied “Oh please.”

“Tell me more –” she said in a dramatically gaudy tone, her eyes widening with a curious intensity, making a dramatic pose out from the sheets. Elsa laughed holding her hand to her mouth, and shook her head. Anna decided to scoot closer, remembering how it is to be with her sister and not the fifth spirit who was never home. “Mmm, your smile is always so bright, no matter what you put on, your smile always shines like a sunflower.” Anna smiled and shifted again, getting comfortable as if a child listening intently to a story.

Elsa laid her head down on a pillow again, meeting with Anna’s eye, eyes to eyes now. “And there are your eyes,” the older sister said, quieting and deepening her voice, “Anyone who sees them knows how gentle yet strong you are.” Anna breathed in, and her smile slightly loosened as her full attention was on Elsa. Her eyes did sparkle with joy. Elsa made the mistake of glancing down when she noticed Anna’s chest rise. That damn bow… she looked back up, “Freckles.”

Elsa swiftly recovered her composure, “Yours… “ Elsa paused, suddenly without realizing her own hand was grazing Anna’s cheek. “They’re like little stars kissed all over your face, or how autumn leaves look when they fall.” Elsa felt herself trailing off, as if wanting to say more, but nothing came. She mumbled into silence. The freckles that had hypnotized her and bewitched her hand to them, she now noticed, were washed with a warm pink. She looked back at Anna, who was blushing. She was blushing?… oh…

Anna tilted her head down, nervously playing with her fingers. The words from Elsa’s tender lips were too sweet, they made her heart beat. She wondered if Elsa could hear the rhythm pulsating under her skin, feeling hot air breathing on her hair. Anna looked up and met Elsa’s bright blue eyes. Elsa was gazing at her. Elsa reached over and placed a finger outstretched under her sister’s chin, then leaned in while pulling her face closer. Her heart was pumping her blood so rapidly that she felt dizzy like she was going to explode. She jerked away.

“S… So, are you going to tell me what you were thinking about when you made that ice barrier earlier today?”

“I don’t know, Anna, I… “ the Queen regally turned her head to the side and pursed her lips, making a profile that reminded Anna of a painting of a goddess. “I wanted to ride in here and make you so happy... make sure that you would be mine.”

I’m yours. You’ll be mine. Anna was no stranger to these sentences. She had read hundreds of thousands of novels in those void years without Elsa’s company. Countless times she had imagined her Prince Charming would come for her and save her from the emptiness. She was always the energetic one, bright, optimistic, fun and chatty. The description of Anna of Arendelle – and she couldn’t deny it. Ironically, people seemed to forget that light always comes with shadow. How many nights she felt so lonely in the grand library, reading her book alone, wondering if she would ever have a chance to meet The One? She imagined kissing the love of her life, the love who was hers, the one who would never leave her alone. So, if her sister said so, does that mean she would be the one holding her hand, loving her unconditionally, kissing her… She was shocked. She imagined her sister kissing her. Even more to her surprise, she didn’t feel at all against this idea.

However, there was a slight problem if she wanted to pursue Elsa. Kristoff.

She was engaged to the guy, and even now she couldn’t believe she even said yes. Did she really love him, really? More than she loved Elsa?

No, thought Anna, no.

Her love for Elsa was immeasurable. But then, why did she say yes to the second guy who proposed to her? Now that Anna thought about it, she felt heartbroken. She remembered the heavy grief of when she believed Elsa had gone too far and drowned.

Then the elated happiness of the moment she saw Elsa galloping towards her and then so gracefully unmounted from the water horse, and their eyes locked again.

She was so ecstatic and then Kristoff proposed, and she said yes because how could she say no in a moment of such unprecedented happiness. It was an extreme situation, and she said yes, but mostly she was happy about Elsa’s return - it was not really because of Kristoff that she was so overjoyed.

Dread crept onto Anna’s chest. Had she made a mistake for the second time?

It had been months since the forest was freed, and yet the idea of marriage with Kristoff had not crossed Anna’s mind very much, besides wondering if she actually should. Maybe this was because now she was Queen and had a lot of duties, but then again she could have someone do the planning. She frowned, which did not go unnoticed by Elsa. “Anna? Are you okay? Look, I’m so sorry for saying weird things like that. Please forget I said it,” she expressed in a bit of a panic.

“Elsa, we need to talk,” Anna uttered with a seriousness. Elsa looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“When you said you want me to be yours, do you really mean it?”

Elsa panicked more. She wasn’t sure why she said that. All the abnormal feelings that she experienced today for the first time in forever. The excitement she felt on her way to Arendelle, the warmth she perceived when Anna was hugging her, the anger she lashed out when Anna was leaving her alone there, the pain and bitterness she went through when she saw Kristoff kissing her cute little Anna. With Anna, it was always joyfulness and love. That was why she didn’t quite understand those negative feelings in her today. She was riding an emotional roller coaster, all different types of feelings were exaggerated. Not that she was really a master of concealing her emotions, but years of practice should have made her better than this.

Uncertain as she was, she still nodded yes.

“So, before we talk, I want you to kiss me.” Anna spoke out firmly.

Elsa’s mind was reeling.

Anna asked her to kiss her. Kiss Anna, her sister, her sister toward whom she was having a not-so-sisterly feeling. “W-What? A-Anna! What in Skadi’s name… What?!” Elsa gaped as her heart beat erratically, as if it was about to explode inside her. Her usual pale cheeks were dusted with shades of red. Her breathing became labored.

“I need you to kiss me. Now.” Anna almost pleaded, and moved into Elsa’s personal space. Little hands behind her back, she stretched up onto her toes toward Elsa’s mouth in expectation.

Elsa recoiled as Anna advanced. Her powers started to go haywire as the entire expanse of wall near them covered with frost. No Anna, No. Elsa was not ready for this. Nowhere near ready for such intimacy between them, especially as she was still trying to figure out her feelings. What if Anna wanted something more than simply being sisters? Would that intrude between her and Kristoff?

Elsa pressed her hands against Anna’s shoulders, holding her back. “Anna.” Her mind swirled with all the possibilities of how this could play out, and if this was what she chose, how it would affect their relationship, with everyone. What if she denied Anna, and Anna, embarrassed, would no longer want to see her? What if she was just confusing her happiness with, with this?! What if – “Elsa” the small quiet voice silenced Elsa’s running thoughts. She brought her worried eyes to her sister’s.

She could feel something swelling behind Anna’s calm expression. Something desperate, fighting and wild. But Anna was taming it. “I need to know… if this is what… I want, and if you can decide…” Elsa held her breath, “if you want it too, or if you want to leave.” A sober sadness washed over them both. Frost was still plastered over the wall behind Elsa, and time seemed to stop.

For the first time in a long time, Elsa herself felt frozen. The air was still and chilled from her powers, but this same air soon would be filled with Anna’s warm breaths as she again drew closer to her sister. Elsa wished she could freeze time itself to hold it still, but her eyes led her in another way as they trailed to Anna’s cute freckles, then her soft lips, the same color as Elsa’s own.

“Anna, I still love you as a sister,” Elsa thought, unable to pull the words into being. Their heads rested on the other now.

“But… “

Nose to nose

“But for some reason, I… “

The space between them became undeniably close.

“I don’t want you to stop this either.”

Elsa could no longer feel the tight pounding in her heart, lost by the soft warmth of Anna’s lips on hers. It was warm and felt more like home than she ever would have expected. Well, she never would have expected this. Anna’s flowery scent was making Elsa let go of a breath she had not realized she had been holding for so long.

Anna’s kiss was not tantalizing nor greedy, it was warm and gentle… purely honest and sweet. The frost slowly began to melt away from the wall behind them. Hands that had held and clenched Anna’s shoulders now began to loosen their grip. Elsa had a choice to make now. Anna was ready and waiting for her to decide.

“Open your eyes, Elsa,” Anna said sincerely. Elsa didn’t realize she had her eyes shut tightly when they kissed. Slowly she opened her eyelids, and all her sensation gradually came back to her.

Candlelight reflected on Anna’s face. Anna was gazing at her like there was nothing else in the world.

Anna used her thumb to stroke Elsa’s lip gently. With a soft but warm smile, she muttered “How do you feel?”

“I feel like you were made for me.”

“Well, we are two sides of the same bridge,” Anna glanced down, tucking hair behind her ear. She looked back at Elsa with a sideways glance, “Right?”

Elsa gushed and felt blissfully happy. Somehow now in balance. She petted her sister’s arm and let her know “I love you.” “I love you more!” was the quick response.

They held both hands to hands, and gazed into each other’s eyes. Anna giggled, and Elsa giggled too.

Then Elsa picked up a pillow, squished it a bit, and challenged her sister to a pillow fight. “Are you up for it, Anna?”

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 4 (2k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

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“And you’re sure Markus will be okay with…y’know, all this? Like it won’t freak him out if I just walk up to him as not you?”

“He is a leader for a reason: he’s reasonable.”

“Mm. Good reason.”

“Just explain it to him from the beginning. Offer to share the day’s memories if that’ll be easier—oh!” Connor shifted in the driver’s seat to fully face his partner and held up a hand. “Not a memory transfer! That’s a different process altogether. That’s what we did to switch. Markus technically is part of the same prototype series as me, so it might prompt for a complete memory transfer—don’t do that one!”

“I got it, Mom: Don’t accidentally kill myself.” Hank shut the door, leaning his forearms on the open window. “As for you, just lay low. You can tell Jeffrey that you’re you if you want, he’s probably heard worse from me before, but maybe don’t let it get out into the whole precinct. Not only would CyberLife get snippy about their secret plans leaking too much, but can you imagine the hell Gavin would raise? Christ.”

Connor paused. “I’m not sure if I can, but I’m sure he would be troublesome.”

Hank laughed. He had heard Connor laugh before, on very rare occasions, but he didn’t think it ever sounded this relaxed and easy. It really gave his rough voice an amicable quality. “Swing back here when you’re done? Or call if it’s more than an hour?”

“Can do, Lieutenant.”

He stepped away from the car as Connor shifted out of park. “Careful with the wheels,” he called before starting down the driveway toward the Manfred house.

In the corner of his vision, the external temperature reading increased to 67.7°F (19.8°C). Focusing on the readout expanded the widget: RH 58.1%, Precip. 12%, Wind 3 mph NW, Sunset 8:52 PM, Moon Phase—

He looked away. It was still there—being a heads-up display and all—but the gesture dismissed the weather. Who could possibly need that much information. No one. It’s been bombarding him from all sides with random facts and figures and updates ever since he woke up like this a couple hours ago (2 hr 32 m 57 s). No wonder Connor was such a know-it-all: his programming forced him to be. Hank slowed his stroll. What was Connor going through right now, free of his encyclopedia of trivia for the first time in his life? Hopefully not lost and unsure and uninformed. God, he hoped not.

He shook his head, quite literally to get his damn android brain to stop calculating the chances that his best friend was having an identity crisis or existential crisis or any number of other crises. Instead he thought about how his shoulders didn’t ache when he did that. His knees didn’t have that familiar creaking he’d grown so accustomed to, either. In fact, besides the pressure on the soles of his feet to keep him grounded and the near-imperceptible brush of fabric and sunlight against his skin, he didn’t feel much of anything. Thinking about his current body only brought up biocomponent specs and functionality reports (100% - Fully functional).

“Fucking-A…,” Hank muttered, noting once again he didn’t sound like himself. Being stuck in an android could be likened to sensory deprivation and informational oversaturation at the same time. If he dwelled on it too long, it’d drive him insane.

Something pinged him as he approached the door, and the door clicked open. “Welcome, RK800.”

Hank stepped into the foyer, marveling at its grandeur. It was a veritable mansion when compared with his single-story shack. It probably was a mansion. He wondered if Sumo would like living here, with the marble and the high ceilings. Maybe in the summer. The stone would keep him nice and cool. Air probably circulated well in here, too. Although the zebra rug didn’t look terribly comfortable

The double doors across from him slid open. Strolling in in an asymmetrical tee and jeans, Markus slipped a paint brush into the pocket of the smock tied at his waist. “Connor!” he called with a grin, wiping off some paint from his hands. “I thought you’d never take up my offer to stop on by!”

Hank returned the grin. He’d have to pass that comment on to Connor. “Hey, Markus.”

The android caught him in a brief hug before stepping back. “So what’s up? Care for a painting lesson?”

“Thanks, but not right now. Just have some…neat info we thought you would enjoy.”

“Oh, really?” He crossed his arms. “‘We’ as in you and the lieutenant? Isn’t sharing DPD intel kind of illegal?”

“Not exactly. I mean, yeah, but it’s not DPD.” Hank took a breath (UNNECESSARY; temperature nominal) and rocked on his feet. “We got an email from CyberLife this morning about some quack idea to define sentience. They wanted to see what would happen if they threw souls around, human and android alike.”

Markus scoffed. “Sounds a bit pompous. What makes them think they can even do that?”

Hank cocked his head and held open his arms. “They already have.”

Markus raised an eyebrow. He shifted his weight, looking the other over. “Connor…?” he asked slowly.

“Not at the moment. Hank Anderson.”

A half smile completed the look of surprise. “A human in an android body? And Connor is…?”

“Heading to the precinct. They called me in for something and he’s, well, me for the day.”

“Huh. You’re right, this is interesting. Temporary?”

“Yeah—here, Connor suggested I just…show you his memory—our memory—of today.”

“Sure, yeah.” Markus held out his hand. At Hank’s hesitation, he finally let out the chuckle he was holding back. ���If you can figure out how to do it, that is?”

“Great, another snarky robot on my hands,” Hank grumbled, grabbing his hand. Markus caught another laugh and shifted his grip to his forearm instead. Their skin shied away from their touch, and the connection pinged his system. [RK200 #684 842 971] connected.

File copy requested: [Visuals; Audio] {-04:00:00.0}:{00:00.0}

Accept             Deny

The notification took up his vision in an instant. It didn’t say anything about a memory transfer like Connor warned, so he figured it would do. Just thinking about accepting the prompt completed the request, and the past four hours from his chassis’ perspective played back at breakneck speed. From Connor petting Sumo and reading a book exactly four hours ago to Hank’s latest quip, it all sped by, too fast to comprehend and yet with every detail intact and evident. He reeled, flinging his arm back.

He blinked rapidly. The only sign of the event was the text (Copy complete) fading from his vision. Markus, on the other hand, dropped his hand to his hip, unfazed. “Mimicking a nexus connection by adjusting and enhancing the brain’s natural electric field to induce a complete data transfer,” he mused. “That is genius! It doesn’t prove anything spiritual, that’ll require much more philosophical debate into the depth and scope of AI, but it certainly doesn’t disprove anything either.”

“How can you understand all that so fast?” Hank asked candidly.

Markus smiled. “Years of practice.” He untied his smock and beckoned him towards the door. “Why don’t we continue this in the den?”

The doors slid open into an absolutely spacious sitting room. As if the zebra pelt on the foyer floor wasn’t excessively extravagant enough, the first thing Hank saw was a giraffe in the corner, probably real, definitely stuffed. (Analysis: TAXIDERMY, est 16yr) He had to stop from rolling his eyes at its ostentatiousness. “Ritzy place ya got here,” he commented, hoping Connor’s voice defaulted to conversationally neutral.

“Yes. Carl doesn’t particularly like it either.” Damn. “However, the media seems to dote on and worry about an elderly millionaire more when they live a modest, humble life than when they look the part.” He gestured to one of the couches in the center of the room. “Please.”

“Y’know, based on news reports and the whole ‘led a revolution’ thing, you’re not exactly what I expected.” The couches were bright cherry red, fitting the theme of the room. He sank into the one closer to the door.

Markus sat across from him, crossing his legs. “Even celebrities need days off,” he pointed out. “I used to be a caretaker. That doesn’t define me anymore, and Carl has a new full-time caretaker anyway, but I still like to come check on him when I can. Get free painting tips while I’m here. But enough about me.” He folded his hands in his lap. “I’m dying to know what your day’s been like.”

“Playing shrink now? What about, just…general exposition?”

“Anything! This is unprecedented!” His eyes shone. Connor was 100% correct that Markus would be ecstatic. “All of our efforts these past months have been towards helping mankind understand androids as people, and now here you are, literally seeing things from our point of view! Walk a mile in the other’s shoes, as the proverb goes.”

“Okay….” Hank drummed his hands on his legs. His first instinct was to think back through the day, but the thought triggered another rapid memory replay. He stopped it and groaned. “It’s fuckin’ fast,” he said. “There’s a shit ton of information even without the router in my head. With it, it’s like I’m every computer at once.”

“That’s an interesting interpretation of it. Maybe a bit of an overstatement.”

He scoffed. “This android brain has involuntarily subjected me to more math in the last three hours than I have had to do in the last thirty years. Like, I don’t need a speedometer at all times, or news updates from Ghana, or access to all the fuckin’ bad memes of my youth. It’s excessive! Maybe not to you,” he added, holding out a hand, “but you’ve grown up with it…figuratively speaking.”

“That’s true.” Markus propped his chin in his palm. “I guess I’d be able to relate more to Connor’s side. I wonder how he likes being disconnected from the network.”

“Yeah, I wonder, too….” Hank pursed his lips. “The kid seemed really shaken up as soon as the whole ‘identity’ question came into play. Seemed like he’s been thinking about it for a while, so I figured…a break from the norm might do him some good. Hell, if I’m getting so overwhelmed by android stuff, maybe he’s finally got some underwhelming peace and quiet.”

“Perhaps. I can ask him later, though; you’re here right now. How about…colors? Does the world look any different? Any sharper, mayhap?”

“Bud, this place would look like a Crayola box to anyone.” Hank took a moment to look around, ignoring the scrolling list of crayon names in his periphery. Sure, it was bright and sharp, but he was fifty-three. If he stole literally anyone’s glasses, it’d improve his vision. “Yeah, I guess it’s all in shiny 4K. Look, Markus, I’m not really a conversationalist; words never were my strong point, so I’m not sure how well I can convey this, ah…ongoing out-of-body experience.”

Markus held up his hands in surrender. “Perfectly alright, Lieutenant. With only a few hours of android life, there’s no sense sitting around talking for all of it. Why not look to some action instead?”

“Action? What’s that mean?”

He stood up with a smile. “Have you ever seen The Matrix, Mr. Anderson?”

“Snuck into a theater to see it opening week.” He pushed himself up in suit. His balance had to correct itself when he was on his feet earlier than expected, being lighter, stronger, and without a whisper of joint pain. “And yes, my friends called me that for months after. Why?”

“Well, we could always spar with some newfound kung fu, but painting has always been more my style.”

“What the fuck are you—” He stopped, remembering the scene he was referencing. His computer brain also conveniently played it back for him, too. Thanks, CyberLife. “I can just download painting? Like that?” He snapped.

“The technical skills, yes; the creativity and style, though, you’d still have to practice yourself.” He picked up his smock and held it out. “How about that lesson?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. He had never pictured himself as a painter. Or an artist of any kind. Or an android. He shrugged. “Ah, what the hell. You’re on, Picasso.”

[next >]

[winterisakillerwrites]

Brave Face - Part Three

Title: Brave Face

One Shot: 3/3

Character: Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Genre: Angst

Rating: M

Summary: A wedding is one of the happiest days of one’s life. It is the beginning of the future and for Amelia Evans this was no different. Tom HIddleston stood watching her as she walked down the aisle while considering every choice that had brought him here. For better or worse, his life was fundamentally changed.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So full disclosure this story came about completely by accident. I had this vague idea in my head and it probably would have stayed that way had I not been talking to @redfoxwritesstuff and said “So I have this idea…”. This literally grew from a ‘huh, this should be straight forward’ to ‘holy fuck what have I gotten myself into?!’. All in all this is a 13,000+ word one shot that has been split into three parts to make for easier posting/reading. Hope you all enjoy.

Previous

Luke blinked at Tom in confusion before ushering him inside. Whatever it was had happened to bring Tom to his door in such a state and at this hour, Luke was certain it was definitely not a conversation for the front step. He closed the door and hurried to follow Tom into the living room. By the time Luke rounded the corner into his living room, Tom had collapsed onto the couch, legs spread and head resting in his opened hands as he rocked slowly back and forth.

He took a deep breath and came to stand before Tom’s hunched form. “Tell me exactly what’s happened.”  

Tom stuttered through his explanations, unable to look Luke in the face, his were eyes downcast and his hands wringing together before him; he’d been drinking and picked up a woman he didn’t know at a pub, they’d gone back to hers and had sex, and only after had he realized that they’d not used protection. The mortification burned as he admitted just how badly he’d fucked up. How could this have happened? How could he have been so fucking careless?

He felt Luke’s eyes burning into him as his publicist fired off questions and demanded clarifications of him in rapid succession. Exactly which pub? Whose idea was it to leave? Did he remember her address? Her name? What had she said when he’d realized? Where there any photographs taken; at the pub, on the street, in her flat? Did she know who he was?

Tom was visibly shaking once more as Luke’s questions continued to rain down on him; his stomach tying itself in knots, his mind racing, and god he was sure he was going to be violently ill. Tears welled in his eyes and he couldn’t seem to stop them. God. Oh god what had he done? How could he have been so fucking, fucking stupid? He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, trying to ground himself, trying to keep the world from splintering around him. He couldn’t breathe; his chest burned with the effort and he could hear the worst sort of wailing noise that he realized to his horror, was coming from his own lips. But he couldn’t make it stop.

Luke’s sudden grip on his shoulder, so tight he was sure it would leave fingermarks, was only thing Tom could focus on. He heard Luke’s voice in his ear but couldn’t focus on his words. It felt as if the world was closing in around him. Luke shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. “Tom, stop. It will be alright. We’ll fix it. Just breathe. We can fix it.”

Slowly Tom raised his head, his eyes wide and glassy with tears. “How? God, Luke, how are we going to fix this?” The words were jumbled together, almost incoherent. How could they possibly fix this mess? She would go to the press, she would ruin him. Everything he had worked so hard for would be gone. His mother would be so bitterly disappointed in him…What if she ended up pregnant? He couldn’t be someone’s father….Round and round the thoughts circled, bumping and colliding until they were all Tom could see.

“Tom! Stop! Look at me.” Fingers forcefully grabbed Tom under the chin and pulled his face upwards until his eyes locked with Luke’s. “I will worry about all of that. Me. That is my job. Just breathe for me. In and out. And in. And out. Good, just like that. In. And out. And in.” He could feel his racing heart start to slow. The tightness in his chest easing just a fraction. “We will figure all of this out.”

It took until well after sun up for Luke to get Tom calm enough to talk coherently. He plied Tom with tea as he went through the questions he needed answers for once again until they were both weary with exhaustion. Tom couldn’t remember the building number but was pretty certain he could recall the street name. He was able to give Luke the name of the pub and the woman’s first name, Anna. He also told him that she’d stated she was on birth control after he’d confronted her but that he had no idea if she was being truthful. She hadn’t seemed to recognize him, at least he didn’t think she had, and he couldn’t recall seeing any photographers around the pub or in her street.

“What I can’t understand is how this got so far out of hand, Tom? I know you’ve not been a saint since…” Luke’s voice trailed off for a brief moment, eyes darting to the side as he caught himself from uttering her name, before continuing. “But you’ve always been careful and discrete. This…Tom, what happened?”

A familiar burst of pain shot through Tom as his mind replayed the way she had smiled at the man who wasn’t him. At the way she’d seemed so happy. “Amy,” he whispered, the name sticking in his throat.

“Amy?” Luke repeated, dumbfounded. He’d known Tom’s change in personal behavior had stemmed from the disintegration of his relationship with Amy, but it had been well over a year since he’d last seen her. What could have possibly happened to trigger this, now? “What about Amy?”

Tom let loose a mirthless chuckle. “She was on a date…I knew sooner or later that she would…That she’d move on…But I just…I hadn’t thought that it would be so…” He couldn’t find the words, his thoughts a tangled mess. How could he even begin to put into words the kind of pain that had ripped through him when he’d realized what he was seeing? When it became clear she’d moved on. How could he put into words the numbing fear that overwhelmed him when he began to understand what he thought was his own closure was nothing more than a plaster to a broken bone. He’d been lying to himself for near on a year; he wasn’t over them. Wasn’t over her and the mess he had made of their once happy life.

Luke pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh god, Tom.”

He flinched, knowing just how horrible all of this sounded; just how badly he’d let himself come off the rails. He hadn’t been over it, not even slightly, no matter what he’d been telling himself. And just as apparent was the fact he’d been chasing away his own guilt and loneliness in the bodies of others. It was stupid and dangerous and only now did he start to see just how badly he could fuck up his career, his life. “I know, dammit. I know.”

Silence overwhelmed them, neither man speaking for several long moments. A sigh of resignation fell from Luke’s lips. “I need to make a few calls, you might as well head up to the guest room, Tom. You’re dead on your feet.”

Tom nodded and pushed himself to his feet and towards the stairs leading to the second floor and guest room. There was little point in fighting Luke on this, the man was nearly as stubborn as he was; though Tom wasn’t sure if sleep were even possible no matter how physically drained he might have been.

And despite everything, he’d fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

The next several weeks were a blur of activity. Tom had thrown himself into rehearsals with a frenzy that caused quite the comment amongst his fellow actors and the production crew. He hadn’t paid it any mind. Working helped him cope with the uncertainty that had plagued his days. Along with whatever legal wrangling Luke had to orchestrate, he’d booked Tom in for testing a little over a week following his breakdown and arranged a meeting with a therapist; “Just because I think you need to really talk with someone. Please just give it a try. You owe yourself that much.”

Waiting for the results of his bloodwork had Tom on edge for days; torn between worrying just what he’d do if anything came back positive and not daring to let himself hope that he had dodged that particular bullet. He’d been short and ill-tempered which served his portrayal of Caius Martius well, but left him in ever growing knots. When the phone call came nearly a week later, Tom hadn’t been sure whether he’d wanted to laugh or to cry. Clean. All clean. The doctor cautioned him that he would be wise to be retested in six months’ time, just to be smart. He’d booked the appointment and called Luke straight after to make sure that he had the time cleared. He was lucky, far luckier than he’d deserved.

Rehearsals began to wind down as the December premiere date grew ever closer. Things were coming together, they were nearly ready. Tom was of two minds; both ecstatic to finally bring his character fully to life and terrified that once he had he would be torn to pieces. He was talented, he’d known that, but this was something so much bigger than himself. What if he had bitten off far more than he could possibly handle? He fought to shake off those feelings; working to recognize them for what they were, the jittery nerves he’d felt before the start of any project. Silly things he knew plagued even then best of the craft.

Opening night was upon him far sooner than he’d expected. The rush he’d felt as he walked onto the stage the first night nearly bowled him over. This was what he’d always wanted to do. And he owned it. Owned the stage. Owned his role. It was cathartic, stamping around on stage night after night; losing himself in someone else’s anger and frustration, letting his own shine through just a small amount.

He’d reluctantly agreed to see the therapist Luke had recommended. She was an older woman, in her well preserved fifties if he’d had to guess; no nonsense and seemingly unshakable. Their first few sessions were awkward; Tom having no idea how this sort of thing was actually supposed to work and dreading having to talk about his own failures with anymore let alone someone he honestly didn’t know. She’d been unfailingly patient with him, reminding him that these sessions were at his pace and therefore he could talk about any and everything he wanted or not. He’d asked her if she knew why he’d come and she’d answered by turning the question around on him.

Tom had stumbled far more than he’d walked in those early days and once he started talking he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. He’d talked mostly about that stupid, careless night and how he’d let himself get pissed enough to place not only his career but his life in jeopardy. He spoke about his fears of what the long standing consequences of his actions would be; what if there were a child? What if the tests were wrong and he ended up sick or worse dying? She had listened with a knowing presence, acknowledging that his fears were valid ones but that their likelihood diminished with each passing day. And if such things were to come to pass, then he would find a way to work through them.  

The end of his Coriolanus run in January found Tom physically exhausted but in good spirits. It hadn’t been an easy run but he was proud of the work they’d accomplished. Josie had been a delight to work with and he found himself hoping he’d be granted the opportunity to do so again in near future. He had a few short weeks to himself before he would have to gear up for the start of filming for his latest project in Toronto. And then it Belfast to start the process all over again before finally heading to Louisiana

When his mother had caught wind of just what the year looked to bring for Tom, she’d pulled him aside and asked if he was sure this was what he’d wanted. He offered her his best smile and told her he understood her concern and would take care to keep himself together. These were chances he couldn’t risk not taking. His career was steadily on the rise but that wouldn’t last forever and he intended to take in as much of it as he possibly could. Diana had merely pursed her lips and nodded, telling him that while he was a grown man he was still and would always be her child. Her worry was something that went hand in hand with that.

Tom had thrown himself into filming Crimson Peak with seemingly all he had. He was often one of the first of the principal cast on set and one of the last to leave. The hours were long and more frequently than not fell into bed at the end of his days but Tom was honestly enjoying every moment. Mia and Jessica were a delight to work with; both immensely talented and wickedly funny often making even their longest and most grueling days enjoyable. Thomas Sharpe was not so much a departure, character-wise, for him but a challenge nonetheless. He’d dived headlong into working to understand who this dark and brooding man was and how his life and choices had worked to shape him. He wasn’t an evil man nor was he a good one. And Tom found working within that grey area to be profoundly interesting. Guillermo was bursting with ideas and had gladly welcomed and encouraged Tom’s in turn.

The end of filming several weeks later found him settled on yet another plane heading towards another city and the skin of another yet character for him to inhabit. This time a physician who descended into madness within the chaos and destruction of the community in a high rise.  As the plane ascended, Tom found himself watching the landscape beneath him shrink. An unexpected pang of regret resounded within him. Toronto was a beautiful city and, in retrospect, he wished he had taken more time to explore it. But there was no time now.

Belfast came and went in what felt like a blink of an eye. He was grateful to be home, if only almost, and for a brief space of time. The days he’d spent on set were long ones and more often than not evenings found him all but crawling into his bed. He’d enjoyed the experience and the chance he’d had to work with actors he’d admired for years, but he could feel the pull of exhaustion threatening to drag him down. But there was little time to stop and rest. Once again before he’d been completely ready, he was on yet another plane and heading towards yet another city and yet another character; a real, living person and the stakes seemed insurmountably higher.

Louisiana was impossibly hot, especially for September, and he hadn’t expected the wave of heat that engulfed him as he disembarked the plane that first day. Tom found himself often thinking longingly of the cooler shores of his home that had never seemed more far away. Filming wasn’t set to start for weeks yet but Tom had jumped at the chance to get a head start on becoming the man that had been Hank Williams. Immersing himself in both music and dialect, he picked the brains of those around him; people, books, whatever he could get his hands on, in order to have a greater understanding of the man whose shoes he would embody. Hank Williams had been an interesting and incredibly flawed man; beneath his smiling veneer lay a deeply troubled and broken man and it had struck a chord in Tom that he hadn’t expected. Watching as this man’s life spiraled around him hit far, far too close to home.

It had been nearly ten months since that night and not a signal word had come from Anna. A profound sense of relief flooded through Tom at the realization that somehow he had managed to make it out of that disaster as unscathed as he had. The bloodwork he had redrawn several months back had also thankfully remained clean. God, he had been far, far luckier than he’d deserved. And as he found himself contemplating Hank and the demons the man had carried on his back, Tom had never been more grateful that he’d been given his own wakeup call that cold late December morning.

He’d flown home for a brief two weeks during a lull in filming, needing the comfort and familiarity of home. His mother had welcomed him with open arms, commenting on his noticeably leaner frame. “For the film,” he’d assured her, though that did little to lessen the creases that seemed to form whenever he came into her sight.

He’d been settled at the kitchen table one morning, when he’d stumbled across the announcement. Tom had been flipping through the pages, not paying overmuch attention as he chatted with his mother who had insisted on making him breakfast, despite his protests, when a familiar name caught his eye. The words faltered from his lips as his eyes settled more firmly on the name and the words surrounding it.

‘The engagement is announced between Edward, son of Dr. and Mrs. Gains of Watford, Hertfordshire, and Amelia, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Evans of London.’

Tom felt his heart cease as the meaning behind the printed words sank in. Amy was engaged. She was going to marry a man that wasn’t him. Objectively, he’d known it was only a matter of time; she had always been the marrying type and one day some fool would recognize this and offer her his hand. But in the quietest recesses of his mind he’d always assumed that someday it would be his ring she’d wear, his last name she would take. That somehow, some way, they would find each other again. But now…

He shook off his mother’s concerns when she noted his abrupt change in behavior, her eye falling to the paper he’d carelessly folded beside him on the table, insisting he was fine. Wordlessly, she’d crossed the kitchen and plucked the paper from the table and scanned its pages. Her eyes darted from the paper to his face. “Oh Thomas…”

Luke’s call had come that afternoon; both concern and professional duty causing the man to reach out. He’d waived Luke off, reassuring him that yes he would be alright, doing his utmost best to avoid acknowledging the way his heart lay shattered in his chest. It was clear to Tom that Luke hadn’t believed a word he’d spoken, but he hadn’t pressured him to say it aloud and for that Tom was grateful. Two days later he was on a plane back to Shreveport.

He’d thrown himself once more into filming with a single minded focus which once more caused comment from co-stars and crew alike. His commitment and drive to make this performance his best, despite the uncertainties and the doubts cast about in the press, was something that had cause no little stir. And he found it almost cathartic, playing this broken man. Living through the choices that had lead Hank down the tragic path his life had become gave Tom a way to exercise his own demons. He had been there, losing himself in drink and in the arms of women, and he’d almost let it destroy him. This time, with his character, he could see just what his life could have been. Just how close he’d come to ruining it all. It was humbling and heartbreaking.

When filming wrapped in December, Tom found himself anxious to start his next project. The Night Manager wouldn’t begin filming until sometime in March and he’d taken the downtime before to work his way through both novel and script; throwing himself into table reads and meetings with the cast and directors. He would also take on the helm of producer and it was a daunting but exhilarating feeling. He’d found a sort of solace in his work that he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Christmas had been a quiet affair; he’d visited with his mother and sisters and had taken time to travel to see his father. He’d done his best to avoid the questions he could clearly see in their eyes, the concern, trying to smile and pretend, just for a moment, that everything was truly okay. He’d met with his therapist when he could, now that he was physically in London he could resume face to face meetings rather than the weekly phone calls he’d slowly grown used to. He’d opened up to her then about Amy; his cheating and its consequence and of finding the announcement and the concrete proof that he’d finally lost her for good. She’d been understanding and empathetic, letting him talk his own way through and offering support when he’d needed it.

February had him standing beside his dear friend, Ben, in a small church on the Isle of Wight as he married the women he’d known for years but had only in recent years been able to call his own. The ceremony had been absolutely stunning and it was clear to him just how much Ben loved his new bride. He’d worked hard to keep his own envy at bay and had wished both Ben and Sophie all of the best.

Spring through midsummer saw him traveling to Switzerland, Morocco, and Spain with a brief sojourn back to England in-between. He juggled his dual roles as best he could; always striving to learn as much as he could about the craft, the locations, and the people he worked with. It had been a learning experience and one he’d been grateful to have earned. Once production had wrapped, Tom could feel the exhaustion’s pull on him. But there were promotional tours that had come due; interviews and photo calls, and the constant sense of perpetual movement. So he had dutifully smiled and gave the world the bright and charming Tom Hiddleston they’d come to know and expect. He’d laughed and told antidotes from filming, signed posters and DVD cases and god knows how many other bits and bobs until his hands ached, posed for photograph after photograph, and never once complained. How could he? This was simply a part of what gave him the chance to do what he’d loved for a living. Yes he was tired, and god he missed his home, but he was able to do so much, see so much, and surely it was worth the price he’d paid in the end?

When he’d finally made it home, what felt like eons later, and finally been able to shut his front door and breathe, it was to an empty house and a terrifyingly large pile of mail; dutifully dropped off by one of his manager’s assistants. The silence after so many months of chaos and noise felt almost suffocating despite his overwhelming desire to simply be alone. He rifled through the various letters, bills, and magazines without much thought or care as he puttered around his bright kitchen making a simple dinner of fried eggs and toast.

He’d been so focused on making sure not to burn the eggs (he’d only managed it once and by god getting the smell out of the house had been a nightmare) that he’d missed it the first time through. It wasn’t until he’d settled at the dining room table, dinner in hand that he noticed the thick, off-white envelope. His name and address were written across the front in small, neat script. His eyes immediately flicked to the return address and felt his heart sink as recognition dawned.

Tom tore the envelope open as quickly and carefully as he could. The invitation was simple in its design but beautifully made. Thick cream colored cardstock with dark green text in a fine looping hand and tiny drawings of wildflowers decorated its edges. The words written in the looping hand stung far more than he’d expected. He’d known this was coming, thought he had come to terms with it, but seeing it before him, printed in no uncertain terms felt like an ice shard to the heart.

                      Mr. and Mrs. Henry Evans cordially invite you

                         To attend the marriage of their daughter

                      Amelia Grace Evans to Edward Michael Gains

                     Ceremony to take place 23rd April 2016 at 1500

                                      In the parish of St James

                                          Reception to follow

A sheath of paper behind the invitation gave the details of the reception and other needed information, but none of it made the slightest bit of sense to Tom. The only thing echoing in his mind was that he’d lost her; for good this time. He sat staring at the cardstock until his dinner had long since gone cold. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Wasn’t sure exactly what he felt.

With shaking hands he fumbled his mobile from his pocket and dialed without letting himself think on what he was doing. “You’ve seen it, then?” Emma’s voice was softer than he’d expected. They’d drifted in the last two years, something Tom had hated. She may be his annoying little sister, but he’d loved her fiercely and had felt her loss acutely.

“Yes,” he managed to breathe, his head falling into his opened palm. He fought to control his breathing, to keep himself in check. The last thing he had wanted was to fall to pieces, especially now. He didn’t have the right to do so; he’d forfeited it the second he’d made the decision to stray. This, all of this, was nothing less than what he’d deserved. “I just,” he started, the words catching in his throat, “I don’t understand. Why? Why did she send me this? Does she…Was it to hurt me because I hurt her?” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren’t true. It was a childish hope on his part; because if she had sought to hurt him with this then it would mean she still cared. And he desperately wanted her to do so. Nor could he believe she was callous enough to want to hurt him out of spite. But while Amy had never been a saint, she had never, ever, been vindictive nor cruel. And despite the intervening years, Tom doubted she’d have changed so drastically.

“Oh Tom,” Emma whispered, “You know she wouldn’t do that. She doesn’t hate you.” She paused, taking a deep breath. When she started again, he could hear the hesitation in her voice. “She wanted to, especially at first…And I can’t say I blame her. You hurt her badly…But she doesn’t hate you, Tom, I don’t think she ever really could.”  

A choked gasp escaped him at her words. He’d known he’d hurt Amy, and hurt her badly, but hearing it so bluntly put sent spasms of guilt and pain through him. All Amy had ever done was love him and he’d thrown it right back in her face. She should have hated him, would have been well within her rights to do so. And knowing that, despite everything, she didn’t felt so terribly unfair.  “Then why?”

“I don’t know…Maybe…Maybe to show you that she is actually okay. That she’s been able to move on. That the hurt didn’t break her…And maybe she hoped that if you understood that you could take comfort in it.” Her words were hesitant and Tom desperately wanted to believe them, but he knew it wasn’t something he felt he’d earned or in all honestly deserved.

“Tom?” Emma’s voice cut through the confusion in his mind. “Tom are you still there?”

He cleared his throat before speaking, “Yeah, Em, I’m still here…I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Staring at the invitation now, Tom wasn’t sure what to think or how to start to precede. He could clearly imagine just what Luke would say. ‘Just let it be, Tom. Mark yourself as not going, send a gift if you want. But for the love of god, man, let it be.’ And he had to admit that would be the smarter path. She had said her peace in her own way, the best thing for him to do with it was left it be. But there was a part of him, growing steadily louder and more insistent, which wondered if actually going would be the best way to finally, finally, put this in the past. If he could just see it with his own eyes; see Amy happy and settled, then he would be able to move on as well.

Tom had mailed the RSVP back (with a tick mark in the attending box) within the week, not letting himself think overmuch on it. He’d waited nearly another before mentioning he had done so to Luke, who as he’d expected, had nearly blown a gasket at the news. “Dammit Tom, what the FUCK were you thinking? Actually GOING to the wedding? Have you taken complete leave of your senses?”

He’d let Luke rant, not knowing exactly what to say. A part of him knew that by actually going to this, he was playing with fire. A very real, very dangerous fire. He’d nearly ruined everything after simply seeing her in the street with another man (Edward he now assumed), why the fuck did he think he could handle seeing her married? Luke knew better than anyone just how bad an idea this actually was; in both a personal and potentially PR related manner.

“I can’t take it back now, Luke,” Tom finally cut in, his voice quiet and subdued. “I need to do this. I need to face this head on. I can’t keep burying my head in the sand. And maybe, just maybe, after it’s all said and done, I can try to let this go. I need to try.”

The months that followed were a blur of activity. Between the intense but profoundly enjoyable principal filming for Skull Island and various promotional and charity endeavors, Tom found himself staring down the 23rd of April far sooner than he’d been prepared for. He’d managed to forget, if only for a time, that the date had been growing ever closer and suddenly facing its imminent arrival made his knees buckle and his gut churn. But he had made his decision and he would not let himself back out of it, no matter what the cost.

And now, here he stood, watching as Amy promised to love, cherish, and honor someone else for the rest of her days and her groom promised to do the same in turn. Jealously and guilt burned brightly inside of him but Tom forced himself to smile and offer his support and congratulations as Amy and her new husband walked back down the aisle hand in hand.

He could see clearly the joy within Amy; she was radiant with it. And he was truly happy for her; happy that she had found someone to love and cherish her the way he hadn’t, happy to see the same joy radiating from the man by her side. But it did little to lessen to the sense of loss and agony of knowing that had he been a better man, had he truly appreciated what they had been, this could have been their wedding. Their happy ever after. But he hadn’t been and there was little he could do to change it now.

In the flurry of activity, Tom found his chance to slip away quietly. He’d known it was the height of rudeness to slip away before the reception but knew just as acutely that no matter how talented of an actor he was there wasn’t any way he could keep his façade going in any convincing manner for much longer. And the absolute last thing he wanted was to ruin this day for Amy. He’d taken enough.

She caught his eye as he made his way down the side stairs and he offered her what he’d hoped was a convincingly warm smile. She offered him one in return before her attention returned to the man at her side. She looked so unbelievably happy and it burned far more than he’d expected it to. The loneliness, the emptiness that he’d let his life become. Yes, he was successful and by any other standard his life seemed ideal, but it wasn’t until that moment Tom realized just how isolating it was. He had his family, his friends, his work, but somehow that didn’t seem enough anymore.

He fought the urge to tell the cabbie to take him to the nearest pub. It would be so easy to let himself drink and forget, to slip back into those hold and familiar habits. After all it was just one night. But he’d known far too well how destructive that path could be and he couldn’t, wouldn’t, let himself fall down it again. Not now. Instead, he rattled off his address with a weary sigh before leaning his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.

The house was dark and quiet on his return. He stumbled up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a collision with the suitcase he’d stashed by the landing that morning. Tom rushed his way through a shower before collapsing onto his bed. His flight to New York was set for midafternoon the next day, another reason Luke had been so deadest against his attending the wedding; the itinerary Tom had been forwarded the day before laying folded on top of the largest case. Another round of promotion and events; dinners and networking, smiling and playing the role he knew all too well. He found himself dreading this trip as much as looking forward to the opportunity it would offer him. Something would have to change though he couldn’t seem to put his finger on what or how; just that for his own sanity, it must.