#nightlight would wear a straight up dress...

[darewolfcreates]

Welcome home mob au by @clownsuu Nightlight.

[fighterkimburgess]

The Three of Us Chapter 4 - Dinner

Summary: After a tough case Adam and Kim go for dinner, and celebrate Makayla’s birthday. Series Masterlist here

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: none

Wanna join my taglist?

—

Kim stared at herself in the mirror, fixing her lipstick before a final twirl. She hadn’t gotten dolled up in forever, but this felt nice. Her favourite little black dress, red lipstick and smoky eyes, her hair curled and full of volume. Once she slipped on her heels and picked up her bag she was ready to go.

It was one of the nice things about Adam that she was able to wear her favourite heels around him. He made her feel dainty even when she was almost as tall as him. When she came out of the bathroom Makayla was standing there in her navy pjs, carrying the platypus in her arms.

“You look pretty,” she yawned as she spoke, Kim smiling and bending down to lift her up.

“You look sleepy. Everything ok Buddy?”

“Yeah. Just missed you.” She nuzzled in for a cuddle, and Kim was so grateful that she wanted those hugs now. Her arm ran up and down her daughter’s back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Missed you too. I’m going out for dinner with Adam, is that ok with you?” Kim pulled the blanket over Makayla, tucking her in and making sure the platypus was firmly beside her.

“Yeah? Is Mrs Ellis gonna be here?”

“You’ve got it. We’ll be home before midnight, ok? And you know if you need anything at all, all you need to do is ask her to call us. We’ll be straight home.”

“I know.” Her daughter chewed her lip for a moment, and Kim watched her movements. “I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo.” A grin spread across Makayla’s face as she linked her fingers with Kim’s, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

“Night Kim.”

“Night, Makayla.”

Kim flicked the nightlight on before closing the door, leaning against the wall with a grin on her face. Makayla loved her. Adam had mentioned that she’d called her her best friend, but she loved her. Kim’s heart filled with joy, the love and emotions making her want to sob with happiness. She’d nearly lost everything good in her life, but instead she’d gained so much. She was alive. She and Adam were raising their daughter. What else could she ever want?

Her phone buzzed with Adam texting that he was leaving Burnside now, for Kim to meet him at the restaurant. The babysitter had already arrived, a grandmother who lived across the hall and who’d offered to help Kim once she learned about Makayla. Kim left the apartment, getting into a cab and arriving at the restaurant just as Adam pulled up.

It was a mom and pop place in Canaryville, a little bit further away than she’d usually agree to for a date night. But it was one of Adam’s childhood haunts, and the first time they’d taken Makayla there for food she’d loved it immediately. It had become their place, Adam waving at the owners when they arrived in and were shown to a table.

Even sitting down opposite each other at the red checked table Kim couldn’t stop grinning. Adam stared at her quizzically, watching how she was blushing at him.

“What’s got you in such a good mood? Spill your secrets, Burgess.” Kim wanted to keep it to herself, part of her afraid of what Adam would think of Makayla saying she just loved Kim. But she knew his heart, knew he’d be thrilled.

“Makayla said she loves me. She gave me a big hug and told me she loves me.” His face lit up, taking Kim’s hand and squeezing it.

“She’s got excellent taste in people, if we’re honest. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks. You know she loves you too, right?” He nodded, taking a moment to think before he spoke.

“I love her. She’s not mine, but she is. I love her like she’s mine. And I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving her or you. The idea of losing either of you it just hurts. It’s like a knife in my throat.”

“You’re not going to lose us. I won’t let that happen.” A tear fell down Kim’s cheek at the idea of losing what they had, at the idea of the family they’d built disappearing.

“Don’t cry, Darlin’. I know I’m not. I just love you that much.” His thumb wiped away the tear as Kim grinned, nuzzling into his hand.

The food was its usual fantastic self, and they ate and enjoyed. Her foot stayed hooked around Adam’s ankle, and when the bill came she tried to pay it but he got to the leatherette wallet first.

“I invited my girlfriend for dinner, it’s my treat,” he smiled, Kim grinning back.

“Well maybe you should move in with your girlfriend full time to save money.” She watched his face, staring as her words sank into what she had said and what she wanted from them.

“You…are you serious? Kim, really serious? We’ve never done that before.”

“And we should have. We basically live together. You spend very little time in your apartment. What’s the point in you spending money on rent and bills when you’re not there? It’s useless. We both know where this is going to end up. It’s just one more step.”

When they stood and left Adam’s arm was around her waist, but the moment they got outside he lifted her up, spinning her around in a hug as Kim giggled, her head thrown back in glee.

“I love you. I love you, and Mak, and whatever way our family ends up. I love you so much, Kim. Thank you.” He’d put her down and was staring into her eyes, Kim leaning to kiss him.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

“You get all the chances for us. We both do.”

The drive home - their home Kim’s brain kept reminding her - was filled with thoughts of how things would be. Having Adam there full time, sharing her bed and their home. Raising Makayla in a stable home with two adults who would always be there for her. There was nothing else she wanted more.

But before they could talk about what would happen, they were pulled to a drive by shooting. The case seemed to move around them, and Kim could tell there was something wrong with Kevin, that this was hitting harder. It hit her in a weird way, knowing this was the world her daughter could have lived in, but she had the luxury of stepping away. Kevin didn’t have that.

When Adam confided in her that Kev had slept with Celeste, it fell into place. And her heart ached for her best friend, wanting him to find happiness and love with someone who could love him for everything he was, not just a little bit of him. Out of everyone she knew he deserved that, the selflessness that he exhibited every single day since they’d met.

But when it was all said and done, when the case was as solved as it would be she sat back, staring into space and wanting to help him. But Kevin just left the district before they could speak, and maybe that was for the best.

Before she and Adam could leave they had to fill in the disclosure forms, Kim writing into the familiar boxes, the same form that she’d filled out forever ago with the same information that she and Adam had disclosed. There were some differences this time, both of them in Intelligence, putting down the same address for each of them. But she signed and dated it, her badge number carefully printed on the line before passing it across to Adam to do the same. She watched him fill it out carefully, a smile on his face as he put his own badge number down.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand once, the two standing and going to Voight’s office. They knocked, and once the come in sounded they opened the door, closing it behind them.

“Burgess, Ruzek. What can I do to help?” He stood, and Kim held out the sheet of paper.

“You said we should probably file this.” He took it, reading over quickly before an eyebrow raised at the addresses. “You’ve moved in together?”

“When you know, you know, Sarge. We wasted too much time already, and Mak deserves a full family. That’s what she’s got now.” Adam spoke first, their hands linking together in a show of unity. “Plus it’s her birthday tomorrow, we were going to ask her what she thinks then.”

“Knowing that girl, she’ll think it’s her birthday present. It’s a gift, having a kid. Congratulations about it.” Kim had received two hugs from her sergeant before, and hadn’t expected a third. But he came around the desk to hug her again, before hugging Adam in turn. They smiled at him in a grateful thanks.

“Go enjoy your day off, and wish her a happy birthday. Seven is a good age. And with the two of you she’ll enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Sarge.”

They left hand in hand, revelling in the ability to do it now. Adam was telling Kevin the next time they got a drink together, but otherwise they wanted to keep it mostly private. This one moment of PDA was so incredibly worth it.

But Saturday morning dawned with an excited seven year old, Kim and Adam woken up by Makayla barrelling into their bed. She calmed enough to nap between them for an hour, but as soon as that was done it was time for the birthday celebrations to commence.

Adam brought Mak out to pick up their breakfasts, and while that was happening Kim set up the presents. Had they overdone things? Most definitely. But you only had your first birthday with your second family once, so Kim would never be upset about it. There were stuffed animals, a couple of board games, a giant art set, and tickets to the aquarium for the three of them that day.

She’d only just gotten it all set up when her loves arrived back from Yolk with breakfast, grins on their faces. Makayla took in the gifts on the table, eyes wide.

“Happy birthday, Makayla,” Kim murmured, the girl immediately running for a hug. Kim gave one in return gladly, watching when they separated as Makayla immediately went to Adam, her arms wrapping around Adam’s waist for a hug. He ruffled her hair with a grin, pressing a kiss against her forehead as she grinned. For the first time ever their girl ignored her chocolate chip pancakes and syrup, laughing as Kim and Adam pointed to the gifts.

Once she opened the art set her smile couldn’t stop, and the aquarium tickets were the icing on the cake for her. The syrup managed to stay on the plate this time, Adam handing a vanilla latte to Kim and a hot chocolate to Makayla as a treat. The three of them ate before heading out to the aquarium, a trip to the penguin experience first on their list.

It didn’t take long for them to get to the enclosure, and the photo of Makayla with a penguin in her arms and a seventh birthday badge on her chest making her happy. Kim got a photo of the three of them together, watching with joy as Mak got a day to be a child.

“You have a lovely family,” the penguin keeper remarked as Mak put the penguin down gently, watching her waddle back into the pool and out of sight.

“Thank you.”

A few months before she would have made excuses, insisted that they weren’t a full family. But it was her and Adam and their daughter, and family was the perfect word to call them.

Burzek Taglist: @aruzlover @amandarrollins @morganupstead  @adamruz @fullwattpadmusictree @redpoodlern @everythingaddictxx @write4life13 @lizlouisebrown @jeanjacketjesus @tuxieboy101-blog @thelittlepterophyllum @planecrazylex @sophiatellerrhodes @eternal-olicity @ossypooh @dissociation-writes @kimburgess-ruzek @thestarrynightslover @reidskitty13 @etamne @torreshalstead @itsnotpersonalbut @leymr @kellykidd @dedlund82 @pinkwhitebrown @mmacke3613 @sylvieshay @upsteadlovingheart @ittybitty-tittycommittee @thatoneblog3467 @bila1011@takemetooneverlanddd @oracle23 @thedefinitionofendgame @sylviebrettisaswiftie @butterflylies @inlovewithlukehemmings @multicouple-lover @burzekschicago @keenmarvellover

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part V

Word Count: 2,005 Warnings: PTSD. Allusions to sex (it borders on the edge of smut but we should know by now I'm shit at that). Hint of a praise kink. Bit of marking kink. Death. Ben Affleck. Author's Note: The last few chapters have taken a lot out of me, I put a lot of my own experiences with PTSD and mental health into them. I tried to make this fluffy, I needed that comfort after a hard week and I feel lighter for it. As always, thank you so much for your kind words and loving this like I do.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fuck you.” Benny stares straight into Tom’s eyes. "This is my fuck you money.” The held breaths are louder than gunshots, waiting for a reaction that doesn’t come.

Cold Camp Davis grunts a laugh, “We don’t have enough men to carry all this money so we might as well be warm.”

Benny giggles like a child as he grabs a strap, zippo clicking to ignition again.

The laughter that bubbles up is like a light, warmer than the thousands of dollars burning bright against his eyes.

Frankie, you might as well take your salary out on the front lawn and pour some kerosene on it.

He hears it so clearly in his head and in his heart, Leah teasing him for all the lights being on the first time he took her home.

Tom stands up, dumping an entire case down to tinder in the cold air.

Eight dates in and she’d already witnessed one of his attacks. It was the third date, he’d wanted to take her home that night. His body on hers for hours. Wanted to make breakfast the next morning, having already committed to memory the way she takes her coffee. Instead, she spent that night holding tightly to his hands as his panic crescendoed in the backseat of his car.

If it wasn’t then that he realized he loved her, it was in the way she turned to look at him when he quietly said,

The lights being on make me feel safe.

It wasn’t pity, like he’s used to. It wasn’t the look somebody gives a broken man with a broken mind and a broken soul. The only change he found in the already soft features was an understanding behind the dark eyes staring back at him.

This fire makes him feel safe now.

He’s always straining in the dark. It’s not just about watching his six. It’s all twelve hands on deck with two eyes and a ringing in his ears so intense he can feel it in his toes.

But here? It beats back against the edges of gloom that have continuously threatened to consume him.

He can sweep enclosed spaces in minutes, assess the situation and the danger within. It’s a lot harder in the extended wilds, nothing but the moon to guide the eye.

Before Leah—and for a while there after—he combed room for room upon his arrival home. He’d ask her to stay in the car, his conceal carry coming out as soon as the door would swing open.

He’d sheepishly grin, collecting her from the passenger side after his survey and she’d hug him. Holding tightly around his middle section, pressing her cold hands up under his shirt to that hot place where his heart beats and whisper with genuine gratitude,

Thank you for protecting me, Frankie.

It was never condescending, that’s all he ever wanted to do. Protect her. Protect himself. Protect the men giggling like schoolboys around him right now.

And he liked being told what a good job he did at that. —————

“What's Frankie short for?” Barely audible, her breath fanning across his chest as she continues to catch it. Like willing waves of normalcy in the aftermath of a hurricane.

“Francisco.”

“Francisco,” she repeats, dragging out the o. “Do you like it?”

“Used to make me feel like I was in trouble, very harsh coming from pissed off higher ups and even angrier parents but it sounds…” he thinks on that for a second, the events of the night still rippling through his body, “a lot sweeter in your mouth.”

“Watch yourself,” she hums a kiss into the flat plane of his breast before sinking her teeth into the flesh there, biting as hard as she can.

A chuckle vibrates from deep within him, “one hell of a bite too, I won’t soon forget.”

He looks down into her eyes, bright with mischief as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth now. He’d had hickeys before but never like this. He surveys the purple marks across his body, somehow burning brighter than the rest of him, and a contentedness pools in the pit of his stomach. Her stamps on him in easily hidden spaces to match the lipstick stains she’s started marking across his right cheek in the moments before they walk into the bar or the restaurant.

Little ways she says mine.

And he is hers. He knows it in the steady way his lungs rise and fall underneath her now.

He brushes a soft wave from where it tickles across her nose, “is Leah short for anything?”

Her nose scrunches, “not a goddamn thing.”

“Do you know what it means then?” His large hand is sprawled across her lower back, the weight of it an anchor.

Don’t leave me, it says.

“I don’t know,” she drawls, the slight twang coming forward in moments of exhaustion and inebriation, “just think my mama liked the sound of it is all.”

His heart is blazing underneath her cheek as she settles against him once more, her soft voice tumbles towards him, “Francisco…” as her eyelashes brush against his skin and he swears he can count them all on sensation alone.

“Yeah, baby?”

He feels a smile tug at her lips, stopped in its tracks where she’s rooted into him. It’s the first time he’s called her that.

“I have nightlights.”

The light makes her feel safe too. —————

He’s standing over Tom’s body and he hates to admit it but the feeling washing over him is one of relief.

Relief mingled with guilt.

Guilt that nobody was watching his six, his back wide open to the world behind it. Five seasoned fucking veterans and nobody watching the higher ground.

Relief at the silence he knows will engulf the group now. No more orders from a child who should’ve never been granted the lead to begin with.

Guilt because he was climbing up a fucking rock when he should’ve been doing his job as a friend and brother.

Relief that it wasn’t his brains splashed across stone.

His head is fucking pounding and it has been for days, pain dulled by consistency but never not there.

At least I can feel my fucking head.

He thinks of all the other things he can feel now, the things service beat from his body.

The ache in his limbs, heavy with exhaustion.

He’s dreading adding the dead weight of a dead body to the load.

The pang in his stomach, too used to consistently hot food.

He wants black coffee and bacon and tiny spoonfuls of sweet potato puree he airplanes into his own mouth to show Luna it won’t hurt her. Hell, he’d take the mushed peas right now.

Benny’s sobbing. The one amongst them all that never breaks is the broken one now.

He’s staring off again at everything and nothing, Santiago and Will unfurling bags for the body.

What a present to bring home.

It was always the risk they faced, they knew it.

If you were lucky, truly lucky, you came home whole. Untouched, unscathed, unmarred. The safe deployments, the technical shit, the brains behind the operations never seeing bloodshed. Everybody else though? Some were held together by duct tape and pure grit.

Others tied up in a flag with a bow.

Daddy’s not coming home but here’s a purple heart for the dress uniform he’ll never wear again.

I should’ve done more.

He’s not getting a purple heart for this.

I should’ve held on tighter.

He didn’t die in service to his country, he died in service to himself.

I should’ve made a bigger issue of the weight.

Another family he’s failed to protect.

I should’ve said no. —————

The darkness is cut through with a warm glow in every outlet as the clock tips over the edge of midnight.

Wednesday, the eleventh of October.

Nose to nose, the excitement of the day hangs over them like a wave threatening to crash. A giddiness in their bed forcing sleep to the edges of thought.

“Do you think they’re gonna know?” Her voice is soft, featherlight. Trying not to disturb the peaceful bubble they find themselves in now.

“No,” he lifts to press his lips gently into hers, “but I can’t promise I won’t shout it out on the altar.”

Panic takes her eyes, he knows it all too well and he’s gripping tighter before she can inhale. Fingers splayed across the small of her back, the weight of it a comfort to the tender bones and aching muscles.

I'm right here, it says.

“Breathe, breathe,” he’s speaking softly into her hair, “it was just a joke, baby.”

“You're not funny, Francisco Morales.” She speaks it like a fact, like she doesn’t spend hours in his arms filling his head with the music of her laughter. She says it like he isn’t watching smile lines appear in real time, falling more in love with each one.

“Would it be so bad though? If I did? If people knew?” It’s hope in his voice that she’ll say yes. That he can announce to his best friends all at once, every single one, before Santi leaves again. He doesn't want his happiness to arrive by text message. He wants to see the light of congratulation dancing around him.

“I don’t want to jinx it,” she’s scared, “besides… it’s not traditional.”

He scoffs, “what about us has ever been traditional, mi alma?”

“I'll make you a deal,” her fingers run through the stubble along his jaw, thumbs lingering over the patches, “don’t shave this tomorrow and you can tell the boys.”

“You want me to keep this malnourished shit on my face? For our wedding?”

Her giggles vibrate against him, “Yes. I have plans for it after you say I do.”

He growls, “this deal sounds pretty sweet to my lazy soul, what do you get out of it?”

“Hmm…” she brings her hand up to tap on her chin, “well, to begin, I’m getting a hot husba—”

“Debatable.”

“I'll fuck you up, Morales, take the compliment.”

He laughs a kiss into her, “what else?”

“Benny and Will will become automatic attack dogs around me, I’m fairly certain they will clear their schedules for all of April to stand guard outside the room. My own personal security team.”

He laughs again at the truth in her words, “what else?”

She pushes forward again, taking his lip between hers. A soft kiss with the burning desire for more.

“I’ll wake up on Thursday morning with a rawness between my legs that I’m usually only gifted on the weekends.”

His grip tightens, any suggestion of sleep leaving his body in a rush of blood straight through him, “I will never shave again.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time, my love.”

He rolls himself into her at that, kissing down her jaw. Her neck. The sensitive skin of her breasts, low lying cotton barely above indecency. He raises the hem, the curve of her belly burning hot against his lips, two hearts now beating inside her.

He grabs the elastic around her hips and gently pulls, kisses so soft across her pelvis they feign an innocence to his true intentions. Her legs kick out to help discard the fabric tangling her ankles as he settles broad shoulders at the base of her being.

Her fingers twirl through the soft curls that have been crushed against a pillow for hours by her side.

He kisses her soft thighs, slowly dragging his rough cheek against the delicate flesh.

“Francisco,” her fingers flex tighter as he looks up to meet her eyes, “don’t be such a fucking tease.”

He smiles wide, the devilish grin splitting his face as he drops his eyes to where she wants him, the fever that’s taken over her body in the last three months beckoning him in.

His hands are heavy on her hips, clenching deep purple into her. Marks in easily hidden spaces, his little ways of saying mine.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23​ | @greeneyedblondie44​ | @icanbeyourjedi​ | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​ | @notcookiebelle​ | @knivesareout​ | @phoenixpascal​ | @lexi-b-writes​ | @empress-palpat1ne​ 

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror.  No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her.  So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List:  @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[jiminrings]

honestly i could talk w band!hobi abt numbers all day, like i wouldn't even mind. what are ur thoughts on 27 hobi? i think they a bad bitch. also UM might i request a drabble abt like a film major! yn (that is very enthusiastic abt films and the aesthetics + cinematography and whatnot) w like,,, a theatre kid?? any of ot7 works fine and it's all good if u can't or don't want to! thankyouu 💜

muse of mine

pairing: namjoon x y/n

wordcount: 4k

glimpse: namjoon’s always been a little sensitive to feedback whether it’s positive or negative, y/n’s an endearing type of talker, and smuggled snacks to the theater haven’t ever tasted this sweet :D // gif from pinterest!

notes: i kinda switched it up a lil bit and made them more established in their respective fields bc my mind went berserk on this concept!!! also this is mayhaps my oNLY piece that’s just pure fluff

“27? The number? Hmm. That sounds... sexy.” - band!hobi

this been’s bugging you for the past half hour

this whole experience feels oddly familiar

you’ve been in this theater for half an hour so far to watch this play!!

lmao ur gonna admit RIGHT off the bat that theatre’s definitely not it for you

your slight unfondness for it is deeply-rooted back to university and for four years, you’ve consistently taken dumps on theatre kids even if it’s under your breath

alright it’s possible that you don’t hATE the actual people ( only some of them ;D ) themselves but rather this whole type of cockiness and the “i’m a direct descendant of shakespeare himself. trust me bro. on god” energy that they always seem to exhude

but realistically, maybe this deep-rooted hate stemmed from seokjin

he was the guy you’d share the exact same elective class with him for two straight whole semesters and you’ve been seatmates from time to time

homie took foreign language as an elective?????

the language is korean?????????????????

“wait b-but i — aren’t you — n-no but i really???”

that’s what you first sputtered to him in realization when he took his seat beside you

the two of you have only ever shown each other notes bc the other was dozing off and the occasional sharing of gummy bears that’s already pre-opened to not make any noise

but for some reason, it’s only dawned in you why seokjin’s a god in this class and he answers your questions without even looking at his notes by hALFWAY through the whole semester of foreign language

one day, u are gonna find a way to bodyslam yourself and never recover from it ever again

“mhmm. don’t sweat it, sweetheart. i personally think it’s very don quixote of me to y’know, take something as impractical and amusing as this.”

you snort at his choice of words because honestly!! you barely remember don quixote and jin’s use of it as an adjective jigs up a refresher course on your brain

who was he again?? 

was he the donkey

.. or are you thinking about shrek again because of your film analysis

you sWEAR there was a donkey in that story

it’s good fun to talk with jin even if he keeps sliding bourgeoisie words here and there and you’re a lil confused with all these references that he makes but that’s okay !!!

atleast even him saying it in a long-winded way that he was like someone from the merchant of somewhere, you know now that he pretty-pleased and charmed his way to the registrar for him to take korean as an elective

...

two weeks later, jin sits next to you in class 

in ACTUAL non-elective, non-native language he already speaks class

now that you’re squinting a bit more, jin does look a little uh?? different

his hair that was once a hybrid of lavender and peach and pink and then blonde was now wholly black and it’s probably his original hair color because it matches with those eyebrows of his!!!

his combo of a black bomber jacket with a silk button-up underneath honestly SLAPS and it makes you forget how he used to exclusively wear only knitted shirts and argyle-patterned cardigans

you have ur jaw dropped because you totally would’ve fallen for seokjin jAW-FIRST 

— if only he didn’t strike you as the brother type when he smacked the back of your head because you were falling asleep on class again and uhhh you mUst be forgetting that the two of you were sitting in front

you had no time to reevaluate whether you should develop a crush for him or not 

he’s immediately slapping his hands on his knees, looking at you so intensely before pointing a finger at you with so much conviction, and then scoffing to himself

“switched majors to film. theatre was gonna be the death of me!!! y/n, if you even think about trying to switch to that cheap, amazon-ordered quill and tanning lights for stage lighting major, you’re absolutely dEAD to me-”

you’ve never had a conversation this striking nor long with jin but you genuinely have no complaints at all

seokjin talks pure shit about theatre and theatre junkies and everything in between for the WHOLE day 

trails beside you for every single class you had, which was convenient because he can then sweet-talk his way again (if anybody even dared to question him) that he’s just newly-switched 

sat with you for lunch and him not eating because he just needS to tell you all about it and you trying not to choke on your pasta as you try to reply to him

followed you back hOME and decided to crash the night there

yeah, that. your unfondness for theatre’s rooted on that one

uh-huh safe to say that you’ve become best friends with jin ever since that day

you’re a sponge for your friends and jin’s the closest one you have, so it was only natural that you soak up his distastes and whatnot

not to brag but aha :D

you add salt to the water while you boil pasta so u may be a little bit of a masterchef or somewhat, no big deal :D

he’s absorbed your fascination for all kinds of lights and fixtures that he has about seven different nightlights in the form of squishies or neon and everything else on his bedside table, in which he turns all of them on at night

fun fact: he’s capable of sleeping in the dark

jin’s the whole reason for your stance on this

he’s adamant about his points and you’ve graduated uni four years ago!!!

which is why you DON’T get why jin would give you a scented black envelope, with “don’t come to this” scribbled in gold at the front, carrying a single ticket to this play with a sticky note saying “don’t watch this at 7 pm, wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes, sitting at the ninth row from the back and two seats from your right.”

because of course!! what the hell did he expect you to do? NOT come to this play at 7 pm wearing your boss lady year-end award show type of clothes then sitting at the ninth row from the back, two seats from the right???

OF COURSE YOU WOULD

your goal in life is to do exactly the opposite of what jin tells you. there’s literally nothing else in life you’d want to fulfill

he’s made it quite easy for you to spite him and although you wouldn’t admit it.,,.,., you may be a little petty ok

he’s the even bigger goof out of the two of you and you can never have the final say!! it’s always him and his wit and yOU being the dunce

it’s a lil sus that jin’s basically ASKING for it with his instructions but whatever

whatever it is, this is finally your chance to enact the final say and you’re gonna pull ALL the stops

all you know about theater-goers is that they dress fancy and wear these mini binoculars and that’s about it

there’s not even one film you know that you see anyone in the audience wearing a worn-in cardigan or even a puffer jacket even if the theater’s mad cold

all the people bring are scarves and shawls???? thee thinnest version of a blanket that won’t warm them up against the frigid airconditioning

that whole dress code sounds ridiculous!!! great please ring out this thousand-dollar dress im gonna wear to the theater thank u

you’re a little worried that you’re not gonna blend into the crowd, but after some digging about the invitation, formal wear is most definitely recommended

it’s an exclusive invite-only play which would be later released to the general public later on so yeah the situation dOES call for a gown thank u very much

also how could you forget that jin explicitly told you not to wear this type of attire

if you’re being humble right now, which you always normally are, even if that jUST sounded boastful talking about how you’re humble all the time —

you do look pretty breath-taking :-)

even when the doors weren’t opened and everyone’s just collectively loitering outside the hall, you’d feel glances at you

the sweet security guard did a double-take at you and mumbled a “very very nice evening to you, miss :D” instead of his normal “enjoy the show!” to the other patrons before you

you’re gonna soak all the silent compliments up and try to remember all of them before writing them on your journal later hee-hee

your midnight blue satin dress that’s floor-length and off-shoulder is dEFINITELY in your favor :D

your dress still glimmers even if the spotlight isn’t on you and you wish you weren’t shy to ask a random stranger to take a picture of you

going on self-timer isn’t ideal either when there’s like a hundred other people in the room

they probably wouldn’t even care if you took a picture of yourself!!! but in your head they probably think that you’re laughable so you’d rather not.. do that

the theater’s dark as hell if that wasn’t established

it is literally pitch black in the room and the ushers at each row holding the flashlights that are meant to guide the patrons aren’t exactly helpful

big kudos to them though,, must take a lot of self-control to not wave their lights like it was a rave :D

a flashlight tHAT bright?? whew pls is this what ships feel in the night

the last time you were in a rave, your thirty minutes of fun was cut short when seokjin immediately got hammered and wouldn’t stop throwing a fit if you didn’t drive him home that instant

his energy seemed to compelling everyone that he’s managed to somehow suck the energy out of a WHOLE rave so you took him home for everyone’s enjoyment :(((( except yours apparently

you’re trying hard to focus on the play that’s happening because for the past twenty minutes, all you’ve done is zone out randomly with ideas all of a sudden 

you NEED to listen

....

uh-huh...

UH-HUH......

wait this is actually.. good

you find plays hard to follow and absolutely boring when you don’t immerse yourself in a run-down PRIOR to watching it in order to get

it’s the same analogy as reading the plot of a movie on wikipedia before watching the movie at the cinema.... absolutely useless

it sucks out the fun from something you weren’t supposed to know

watching plays is two hours of you being confused, going home to read the plot and only understand it by tHEN, and never coming to the theater again because you’d waste your money.... watching something cluelessly in the theater..... for a plot you’d grasp at home

but no

because this one

actually this one that you’re watching...

it’s not bad

it’s nice, actually.

within two minutes, you managed to grasp that it’s a story about a never-ending spring between these two lovers

there’s something about the whole setting of it actually that just sucks you in

in some plays, the outfits would seem so forced even in the given context that it reminds you of uh a particular superhero movie

and yes ur aware that stage makeup has to be enhanced so that people all the way to the back row would see

but there’s just something in this scene that’s laid out right-now that actually gets you in awe

it’s of the couple in the back of their pick-up truck and everything about it seems so natural

the background straight up looks like what it’d be if you were to go outside

the guy’s arm around her shoulder seems so natural and in nature that it doesn’t feel like a random cue in the script

the girl twinkles and it doesn’t even feel like a forced type of laugh you’d cue in attempt to warm the audience’s hearts

it’s of a plot where the the guy eventually falls out of love with the girl, while girl gets even more smitten with the guy at the same time

it’s what you take from the past ten minutes that you watch in dead silence, and you don’t even remember in the back of your head that you’re supposed to hate plays

“no way.”

you mumble in disbelief under your breath, head shaking profusely

is your mind playing tricks on you???

you’ve got too used to seokjin sitting beside you that you immediately turn to your right, whispering out your concerns 

“is it just me or is she wearing a different shade of pink?”

you don’t even buffer for one second when you ask the stranger beside you

you’re so concerned that you’re looking at him intently while waiting for his answer that could either console or despair you, a random theater-goer that’s too noisy with her questions for her own good

it’s absolutely dARK as fuck in the theater but after awhile your eyes adjusted slightly

and the first thing you look at after the stage is him

him as in the dude in your right that you just asked all of a sudden

you could only see his silhouette and the faintest features of his face along with his well-dressed suit but god

... you are totally not lying if you say that even the barest silhouette of him doesn’t look handsome

you’re expecting him to tell you off for being so noisy but instead, he’s the one who takes you by surprise

“how did you notice that?” 

:O

“oh my god!” you exclaim almost too loudly that you yourself even jolts, the guy even making you duck with him slightly for a brief second, “im sO sorry!! am i accidentally spoiling it out for you?”

the guy blinks twice, lips slightly parted before shaking his head no

“no, no... this is the first screening — i mean uh, how would you know that?”

oh boy

you’re adjusting yourself on your seat, bum now warm as you try to explain and not be nervous because what if you just made a wrong assumption about this play and you’re sitting next to a goddamn tHEATRE BUFF???

“well i —uh, uhm what’s your name?” you’re flustered and the FIRST thing you ask is what was his name.,.,,

he seems equally as flustered before he adjusts his glasses, “o-oh uhm i’m namjoon...?”

alright! handsome guy is namjoon!

“you see, namjoon — okay it might just be in my head, but i tHINK it looks deeper with the light somehow. but uh...? the spotlight’s not following her and — is it just me or without the light, her sweater looks brown?”

you’re squinting and if u squint even more, maybe your contacts would just crumple by then

hold on a second

“brown, like — oh my gOD LIKE-”

namjoon puts a hand over his mouth before you could even gasp, hand reaching out for your forearm even before you manage to grasp his shoulder to take it in realization

was it under your nose the whole time??

“... fall.”

:D

holy fucking shit

namjoon looks positively euphoric looking at your face of realization, his once-heavy chest about the whole scene becoming completely devoid of weight

“exactly!!”

his confirmation makes you inwardly squeal, grinning as you point at him and the stage back and forth

“i think this is the first play i’ve become ever interested in watching.”

okay what now

his ears perk up at that, your first sentence that you’ve said after your pink sweater that looks like spring also looks brown like fall in certain scene because of the lighting realization

“it is?”

he takes the chance to look at you as best as he could, trying to play his squinting as cool as he can

namjoon’s far sighted and the glasses he’s wearing are nOT up to date with his current grade bc he’s pretty sure his eyesight’s worsened the past month

he can’t make you out wholly, but he does know that you’re pretty

his eyes don’t linger on you because of the snacks you’re fishing from your purse while you talk that are absolutely illegal in this theater house lmao

but instead, his gaze lingers on you because you’re so pretty

the minimal light that’s bouncing off the stage is enough for him to see a faint outline of your features, highlighting your smiles just right and your dress to glint underneath

“mhmm. i actually hate plays,” suddenly, you’re not scared if namjoon happens to be some sort of theatre buff and you’re offending him because honestly, you feel at ease. “crunch?” you’re holding out the mini bar of chocolate out to him, one he politely declines to because his eyes are bulging out the next second

“you do????”

his genuine reaction indulges you, making you grin ultimately that you put off eating snacks for now to focus on him

“yeah! this is my hate outfit :D”

namjoon giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard

you automatically scoot closer because this time, it’s yOUR turn to shush him

this is totally for just the reason of talking more discreetly and not distracting anyone and is totally not an excuse to be closer to the next guy and touch shoulders with him then get a whiff of cologne because it’s rare for a guy to be handsome and aLSO smell good

your eyes get used to the darkness and eventually, you could make out features of namjoon beside you

he has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen

and the way he looks at you makes you feel safe and even your height difference is visible with how probably lonG his torso is compared to yours, his gaze doesn’t make you feel small

namjoon’s still (unsurprisingly) far-sighted and ur so close that he’s a lil cross-eyed 

fuck it he’s gonna go to ophthalmologist FIRST thing in the morning tomorrow

“then why are you here?”

“my friend seokjin,” you lean back upon realizing the original reason why you’re here, the situation being so ironic that you puff out a smile

your friend’s named seokjin?

cool :D kim seokjin is namjoon’s of his favorite directors eVER!!

second best for him actually though.,., no one could quite compare to his first

your explanation makes him cackle several times, a swell of pride recounting why you hate (it’ll be past tense probably after this one) theatre 

“what about you?”

you turn the question to him, making his dimples disappear effectively that you think you’ve just spooked him

“i uh, well i always wanted to see a story that went like this, so i’m here.”

“you’re a critic? oh god. please don’t tell me you heard all my mumbles.”

no this is even WORSE

namjoon’s not a theatre buff

HE’S A CRITIC????????????

god im coming up

“don’t worry, i also think that the drapings must probably be dirty.”

he breaks out into a smile recounting how you were talking to yourself earlier, a snort escaping him involuntarily 

“RIGHT??? it’s like how do you even clean them?? do they fit in washing machines or-”

my god he’s such a nice guy!!!

in fact, he’s everything you want in a guy

you’ve went through atleast twelve facets of emotions for the past hour and you’re not even dating!!!!!!!

“my thoughts exactly!! and if it’s by hand, how do you even scrub the entirety of it?? or wring the water out??”

namjoon KNOWS exactly what’s up :’)

“is there even a clothesline that’d bEAR the weight??”

the two of you are so happy that you just look at each other laughing, a moment in time before namjoon nudges you to lean back because the ending’s happening

you don’t even question him how he’d know that it’s the ending and not just another opening to a new scene, just listening to him

you’re so happy

the play made you happy but namjoon made you even happier :-)

“if you are a critic, you should probably open up your review with this chatty play-hating girl beside you, then at the end, close it off with how she loves it.”

it’s the parting conversation as you realize and holy fuck you are nOT ready for it

you r gonna drag this out for as long as you could <3

......

and namjoon wants in too <3

“noted. if i was a playwright, i’d even make you the lead. which detail should i include? offering me wrapper-covered rice crispy snacks, or asking how you’d watch it while going thru the bathroom?”

this feels so natural

as natural as the couple in the play you’ve just finished watching :))

“you’re hilarious,” you’re not even the slightest bit annoyed and your restrained smile tells him all about it

yea you may have brought in snacks illegally but you aRE gathering your trash up as you’re a decent human being

namjoon wishes you’d pick up after yourself slowly, standing up from his seat as he has the plan of picking up trash that isn’t even his

“what name should i put then?”

you’re silent and oh god he thinks you found his company stupid and would definitely not give him your name

you’re not ignoring him though!!!

his words are still stuck in your head, realizing it lately with his “which detail should i include?”

“me wanting to turn this into a film, actually.”

you test the words out on your tongue, nodding to yourself after a few seconds that you seem so sure of it

“yeah. i wanna make it into a film.”

the lights turn on after being dim for so long, namjoon’s eyes going wide trying to digest what you’ve just said

“w-what?

.....

no fucking way

HOLY FUCKING SHIT SWFRWFBWRHGBRBVWRV SWBHJSDB SHJAVBHGJDS BWHRGHBSVWBGRH

namjoon’s malfunctioning as he’s looking at you from eye to eye, bottom lip trembling while he’s so keen at pointing at you

“y-you’re miss y/n!!”

....

right

oH RIGHT

he’s a fan of yours??

namjoon’s fanning his face because he���s about to literally burst into tears

how could he nOT???

how could he not be emotional when all along, he’s been talking to his number one favorite director????

you and your films are the absolute gems of his life namjoon’s not even kidding

your films were world-renowned for being so natural and sentimental without loading too much into it!!!! you’re known for being so humble through the multiple back-to-back awards and praise you get!!!! 

he cannot calm the fUCK down when you’re rubbing circles on his back

“you w-want to turn my play into a film?”

oh my gOD

you’re fumbling for the envelope and it’s only nOW that you realize that it’s not from seokjin in the first place

spring day a play by kim namjoon an invite for director y/n y/l/n

“it’s you!!!!”

“no it’s YOU!!”

jin’s plan worked alright :D

he’s just FOUR rows behind you lmao

it was just two weeks ago when yoongi, the executive producer of his film that he was directing, let it slip that he was co-financing a play

he met yoongi some semesters later after he became close with you, and he’s aLSO converted yoongi into hating theatre then he fit right in to your little posse of theatre kid-hating film students

that gave jin the laugh of his laugh and yoongi was not joking at all

“no, no. i’m telling you man. it’s different! i even have the script that i’ll let you read.”

and holy shit it IS different

if you see a couple tears on the last seven pages of yoongi’s copy of spring day’s script then mind yo oWN fucking business

then two weeks later, here he is :D

jin managed to also convert you to love theatre even IF it is namjoon’s play that did all the work

( also coincidentally found you a future boyfriend because he’s tired of seeing you alone and the closest you’d get to having someone is projecting your yearning into writing the scripts for the films you’d make )

he’s also secretly co-financed the whole play along with yoongi and he’ll drop that bomb later on lmao

“and that must mean i looked like a total FOOL beside you oh my god im so sorry!!”

namjoon panics at that, about to cry when another realization hits him when he’s about to put his head on his hands

“then that means the friend who gave you the ticket was-”

SEOKJIN VBFHSBVHSFBVSFHDVBSJFV SFJVJSFVSJVSSV SSV V FS FSV SFBVRBVRSVSWVGU

he cries to your shoulder and you never expected to be hugging and consoling someone you’ve just met two hours ago, a more than fond smile on your face he takes advantage of when he sneaks in the chance to ask you

“do you mean that?”

“now why would i lie to the playwright who’s been listening to me talk shit, then theorizing, then crying for the past hour?”

it’s true though

namjoon’s seen it all

he’s still handsome as ever even when he sniffles, his dimples on display when you return his question

“now did you mean it? writing me into your play?”

why are you even ASKING

:D

he’s the biggest fan of u

namjoon’s made notes of your work, dedicated scripts to your movies, and he’s thinking about how it’s not yet hitting you how your whole epiphany about the pink sweater turning brown on his play,,, was entirely inspired from you and your affinity for lighting in your films

he thinks it’s still a little early to kiss you on the cheek even if you’ve already hugged, instead settling on pinching your cheek with satisfaction present in all corners

“you’ve always been my muse.”

[honey-hippie-harper]

Warm

MY. SON. LOOK AT MY SOOOOOOON AFSGHJAFGSHJAFSGHJKA

WELL, MY DAUGHTER AFGSHSFGSHJ

@nodrianbcyes HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEET DAUGHTER OF MINE AFGSHJASFGSHJK

Geez. You’re a year older :’)))) <3. I hope that, despite the world it’s still going to shit, you have a nice birthday surrounded by your loved ones :’) <3 <3 <3 Thanks for being such a great friend and for having such a great sense of humor acvsbnayjk yo mean a lot, and I hope you know that :’) I wish you the best of birthdays, and remember to eat lots of cake (AND SEND PICTURES OF THE CAKE AHSFSGHJA).

Here’s a little Ruby thing <3

TW: BLOOD

Warm

Warm.

The sensation of blood could be described as warm.

For Ruby, the bigger the wound was, the warmer the blood, until it was boiling hot. It flowed out of you and made you feel like all your limbs were on fire, leaving a trace characterized by the strange, yet distinguishable smell of steel.

The saddest part of it all, was that it was a part of her.

It had become a part of her.

Lucky were the ones who had been born with it.

The others…others like her, had to watch it happen, and then live with it.

It’s not that she wasn’t proud of being a prodigy, or a Renegade, for that matter. The Renegades, especially Blacklight, whose powers he hadn’t been born with, made special emphasis on how important it was to embrace one’s prodigy persona. Perhaps a couple of counseling sessions for prodigies with acquired powers instead of birth powers before allowing them to become a Renegade would’ve been useful, but the majority of them seemed to be doing just fine.

Being a Renegade gave you a sense of importance, which, Ruby sometimes supposed, was similar to the one the Anarchists must’ve felt when Ace Anarchy appeared and decided he would be the one to change everything.

There was a huge difference between the Renegades and the Anarchists, though, for the Renegades, although not perfect, hadn’t become as corrupted as the Anarchists, and they had also managed to overcome the economic crisis they had left behind.

The Renegades often made you feel secure in your own skin, no matter where your powers had come from, and one of their main objective was creating a society where prodigies and non-prodigies could coexist, without putting the other down to defend their own cause.

Despite their flaws, Ruby considered them to be a great organization, and she was proud of being a Renegade.

And, more than that, she was also glad she had managed to get something so fulfilling, exciting and important out something that had been so horrible and gruesome.

“Sometimes you can find light in the darkest things.” Blacklight used to say.

She knew it was only because he like to involve the concept of dark and light in every single one of his speeches, but that specific phrase had been stuck in her head for the longest time, and it refused to go away.

She had found light in the darkest thing that had ever happened to her.

But that didn’t mean she had forgotten the darkness, and how it came in the shape of knives, with the taste of metal and the boiling sensation of blood covering her entire body like a huge blanket, only to be replaced with the itchiness of something solid growing from the fresh wounds.

The memories were rarely there during the daytime, because she had better things to think about.

However, the nighttime was a different story, because in the night everything was more silent and Ruby was calm. Inert. And overall vulnerable, which she wasn’t the biggest fan of.

There were better days than others, and she rarely ever knew she was having a bad day until she saw scary faces in her dreams, holding sharp things and screaming the most soulless words she had ever had the pleasure to hear at her, a tiny dot staring at them from the floor.

It always started with the men, and it usually ended with the rubies. When she was lucky, it ended with the sensation of swallowing a pill, but a hundred times more unpleasant.

That day, she happened to be lucky.

“Hey…hey…” There was a hand shaking her whole body, taking her by the shoulder. “…Ruby?”

Her body bounced upwards upon the falling feeling people sometimes got in their sleep. There was a strong smell of metal and steel, and it broke through her nostrils, invading her entire system. She was used to the smell, but it still made her very nauseous after waking up from a nightmare.

A nightmare. Yes.

That’s all it had been.

A nightmare.

Trying to steady her breath and focus her vision, she found Nova’s eyes staring back at her.

That night, they were standing guard in the old theatre, for no specific reason other than it was going through some renovations. For some time now, it had been used to present low-budgeted musicals or plays, but, legend had it, after the job was done, it would be turned into a party salon, because, after all, it had been used as a party salon during the Age of Anarchy anyway.

They weren’t the only patrol there, either, because it was a big building and they were in charge to prevent or stop break-ins. All of them, however, were scattered through the floors. The floors where they would spend the night were supposed be sorted randomly, but Adrian was given the chance to choose. Hence, they were now in the third floor, in a room that had once been used as a dressing room.

The junk food’s remains were all around them, and, with the nightlight they had brought with them, Ruby could see the rest of the team, very comfortable in their sleeping bags.

Oscar was the closest to her, lying on his side, facing the opposite direction Ruby was. His head was resting on his arm, and his cane was next to him, close to his backpack.

Danna was drooling on Adrian. They both were out of their sleeping bags, and he was laying on his stomach, while she was using his back as her pillow.

Nova, naturally, hadn’t brought a sleeping bag with her, because she didn’t need it, and over the few months they had been around her, something Ruby noticed (although she didn’t tell anyone because she didn’t want to be rude) was that, besides being practical, she didn’t own many things, and she always declined the invitations to go out to eat with them. At first, she didn’t pay much attention to it, because she started acting the most distant after she shot the Detonator in self-defense, but then, even after she looked way less shocked, it didn’t seem like her attitude had changed all that much. She still didn’t appear to own many things, and she always wore the same three or four shirts when she wasn’t wearing her uniform.

One could only hope that, with the paycheck they received from the Renegades’ part, her situation would get better eventually, but, as for now, Ruby highly doubted she even owned a sleeping bag. After all, a sleeping bag wasn’t exactly a top priority item for a prodigy whose power happened to be not having the physical necessity to sleep.

Snapping back into reality once again, Ruby realized she was still here.

Deep down, she was disappointed this wasn’t Oscar, and, when she realized that, she felt guilty. Hence, trying to smile, she said, in a hoarse voice:

“Hi.” Then, Ruby gulped. “…I had a bad dream.”

Nova blinked and nodded, as if agreeing with that statement.

Another thing she had noticed about Nova, was that she always seemed to be emotionless. She rarely took the time to consider whether the thing she was planning to say would offend or hurt anyone’s feelings. She just phrased her sentences in her mind, and then they came out from her mouth like word vomit. She was straight up, and sometimes she said mean or self-deprecating things in a tone so flat, dull and nonchalantly it send shivers down Ruby’s spine. She wasn’t exactly a warm person, while Ruby considered herself to be one, and that’s why, at first, it had been kind of weird to have her around.

Not that she were complaining.

Adrian always said, ever since they became a team, that it was important to have balance. You couldn’t have a team full of people who had the personality of a cinnamon roll, just like you couldn’t have a team full of people who had the personality of an icicle (that’s why everybody hated Team Frostbite so much).

He seemed to like Nova very much.

As in, like-like.

There was a huge difference in the way he liked Danna or Oscar or herself, and the way he liked Nova, which reminded her of the way in which she liked Oscar.

Maybe that’s why she found herself to be kind of disappointed when she saw Nova instead of Oscar.

“You’re bleeding.”

The first thing that popped up in her mind was “Yes, I’m always bleeding”, until she realized that Nova was way too clever to make such an obvious statement. She had to mean something else.

Once she looked around, Ruby’s attention reached her bandages, and also her sleeping bag.

She was covered in blood.

Her forever open wounds were itching as the dense, crimson liquid gushed out of them, though the hemorrhage was starting to settle down already.

Ruby had been stabbed four times. Two in her right arm, one in the chest, and one in the stomach. Ever since the incident, the wounds hadn’t stopped bleeding, so they always had to be wrapped up in bandages. Nevertheless, every now and then, a trigger appeared, and that made altered everything.

Her power was embarrassing and complicated sometimes.

Nova, from her part, didn’t seem to be judging her, nor did she seem to be disgusted by the scene right there, in front of her.

Nova wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Ruby had been made fun of because of it before, especially when they attended camps or when, for some special circumstances, they had to spend entire nights in the Headquarters. Her team always managed to defend her, and she knew how to defend herself, but that didn’t change the fact there were some things she had had to gone through, because of something that hadn’t, nor would it ever be her fault.

It wasn’t her fault she smelled like blood (It was logical. She was always bleeding), just like it wasn’t her fault she sometimes bled more than the usual.

Nova’s presence made her feel unprotected, and Ruby shrunk, trying to hide herself beneath her sleeping bag, but in the end that only made her feel more ashamed, because the sleeping bag was bloody as well.

She had bled through all of her bandages, through her clothes, and the blood had then reached the fabric of the sleeping bag.

Ruby looked like a crime scene, and for once she noticed there was something different in Nova’s eyes.

They were not as cold.

A little sympathetic, even.

“Do you have any extra bandages with you?”

It then occurred to Ruby that, perhaps, Nova hadn’t come here to laugh, or make comments that came off as lowkey out of place. She had heard all sorts of comments in regards to the issue. She had been asked if she was having an extra heavy period, or if bleeding like this was the equivalent of peeing herself in the middle of the night. Nova wasn’t saying any of those things.

She pretty much was just…there.

Gulping, Ruby lifted her hand up a little, pointing at her backpack, which was next to Adrian’s.

Trying to make as little sound as possible, Nova crawled and reached for it, hanging it from her shoulders, before getting on her feet and offering a hand to Ruby, in order to help her do the same.

Before doing anything, Ruby wrapped herself in her extra blanket, and she didn’t even had to ask where they were going, because she already knew.

The restroom didn’t have showers, but at least it looked relatively clean.

Once they were inside, Nova held the backpack towards her, and Ruby opened it, only to be greeted by her extra change of clothes, which she would have to wear, and her kit.

Normally, she would’ve removed the bandages and clean them herself, but they were too sticky, and she didn’t even know where to start.

When she noticed that, for some reason, Nova proceeded to try to help. Paying little attention to the fact her fingers were a little red by the end, she removed the bandage from her arm, and then helped her clean it with a wet cloth, no signs of disgust to the sight of the open, swollen, bleeding wound. She passed the cloth through it a couple of times, and then wrapped some new bandages around it.

After that, she gave her some privacy to finish the job, and once she was out of the restroom, Ruby cleaned the wounds in her chest and stomach, wrapping new bandages around it.

She put on her extra change of clothes, and came out of the restroom.

-.-

When they came back to the dressing room, Ruby realized her sleeping bag still looked like a crime scene, and if there was one thing she didn’t have, that something was an extra sleeping bag.

She didn’t want to sleep on her own blood, either, so she just grimaced, and then went to sit next to Nova, who was by the window.

She asked no questions, because she never did, especially when she felt that something was none of her business.

Nova was staring at the moon, and her scarred eyebrow was arched. That, Ruby did try to ask why, but maybe, just like the way her wounds worked were none of Nova’s business, the way she was staring at the moon was none of Ruby’s business.

But they were right there, sitting next to the other, while the rest of the team slept behind them, and while the city slept beneath them.

Then, Ruby wondered why was it that she didn’t sleep.

But it occurred to her that, once again, it was none of her business.

Maybe one day, but not today.

They were not that deep.

“Where do you think prodigies come from?” Asked Nova, out of nowhere, avoiding eye contact. “The moon or the stars?”

If she wanted to be brutally honest, she hadn’t seen that coming.

Nova was more of a science person, rather than someone who believed in myths like those.

Good thing Ruby wasn’t exactly a science person herself, and she had been through her myth and legend-obsessed phase.

“Well, most people believe we come from the stars.”

“That’s true.” Nova nodded. “I believe we come from the stars, too.”

For some reason, Ruby didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just stared.

The moon was still there, along with the stars, which looked like freckles.

One time, Oscar had compared her freckles to them.

“It’s a nice concept.” Ruby shrugged. “Stars are beautiful.”

“They are. Until they explode.” Nova scoffed, ruffling her own hair, carelessly. “They are my favorite part of the night.”

“…And you spend too much time awake.”

“…Exactly.”

Then, they didn’t say anything else, but once they were quiet enough, Ruby sighed, and just like she used to do with Danna sometimes, she slowly got into a laying position, resting her head on Nova’s lap.

For a second, she felt Nova’s apparently touch starved body become tense, hard as a rock, but then she took a deep breath and tried to relax her muscles.

She didn’t pull away.

On the contrary, Nova slowly lowered her hand, and placed it on Ruby’s arm, rhythmically tapping on her skin. It wasn’t an aggressive gesture. It was rather stealthy, to the point she could barely feel it.

Some minutes after that…seconds, she dared to say, Ruby fell into a deep, deep sleep, from which she didn’t wake up until the next day.

Fortunately, this time, it was a dreamless sleep.

[freddiesaysalright]

Blessed Part 5

The Peace Like a River Sequel

Summary: Gwilym and Y/N are married. Violet is six years old. Baby number two is on the way. There are still some shadows that plague Y/N in her marriage to Gwil, and Violet is suddenly resentful of her parents. The Lee family tries to stick together.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @simmisblog​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @readinghorn​, @riddikuluslypotter​, @doingalrightt​, @misslolasworld​, @lemurian-starship​, @ravenedges-lies, @painkiller80​, @imgonnabeyourslave​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @ixchel-9275​, @sincerelygmg, @lv7867​, @unicorn-princess-1999​, @delilahmay39​, @chlobo6​, @dragon-out-of-water​, @radio-hoo-ha​, @agentmalfoy24601​, @thigh-your-mother-down​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @anotherhystericalqueen​, @anincurablefangirl​

A/N: The finale! Time for baby Sybil! Thanks again for coming on this journey with me and showing this fic some love. I hope you have all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! There’s no epilogue for this one since it’s a mini-series, and I’m satisfied with this ending :)

Haven’t read Peace Like a River? Start here!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Part 5 here we go!!!

Gwilym stirred awake after hearing a loud groan beside him. It was pained, but swift, as if you were trying to keep yourself quiet. When he registered it was you, his eyes snapped open. He whipped around to look at you and he heard you wince with the movement of the bed.

“Y/N?!” he gasped.

You were drenched in sweat. Your forehead gleamed with it under the moonlight coming through the window. Your hair was plastered to your face and neck. Your hands had death grips on the comforter, which was also stained with sweat. You were biting your lip hard enough to draw blood and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Even in the low light, he could see your face was red with the strain. 

“It started about three hours ago,” you panted. 

“Are you -”

He cut himself short, getting to his knees and gently prying the comforter out of your hands and away from you. He saw the dark stain between your legs from where your water must have broken. He looked up at you, astonished.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he wondered, scrambling out of bed. He flicked on the light and started putting on his jeans. “Christ, Y/N, we should have been at the hospital hours ago!”

Your lip trembled and fresh tears spilled down your face.

“I’m sorry, Gwil,” you whimpered. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

“Oh, darling,” he sighed, and walked over to your side of the bed to kneel next to you. “I’m not angry. I’m just worried about you.”

You nodded.

“I was just scared, I’m sorry,” you said again.

He cupped your face, a gentle smile on his lips. But his brow quickly furrowed at the heat of your skin.

“You’re burning up,” he said.

“I might have a low grade fever,” you told him. “I think that’s pretty common.”

“Mhm,” he replied with a nod. He looked hard at you. “You alright while I put a shirt on?”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Sorry.”

He just kissed your forehead before finishing getting dressed. Once he was squared away, he went to you, helping you get on fresh underwear and a loose dress to wear to the hospital. 

“How far apart are the contractions, darling?” he asked.

“I dunno, maybe eight minutes or so,” you guessed. “Sorry about the sheets.”

“Y/N,” he said, taking your hands. “Please stop apologizing. You aren’t putting me out. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are having my child, and I could never, ever think that some linens are more important than that.”

More hot tears ran down your cheeks.

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he returned warmly. “You and Violet and Sybil are everything to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Hold tight,” he said. “I’m going to wake Violet and we’ll all head to the hospital.”

You nodded. Suddenly, a contraction hit, and you bit down on your lip again, sucking in a sharp breath. Gwilym stopped and came over to you.

“Gwil,” you choked out. “Hold my hand.”

He grasped your fingers and you held on tight as the pain overtook you. 

“Yell if you need to, darling,” he said, using his free hand to push your hair back off your forehead. 

You shook your head, releasing your breath as the contraction passed. You relaxed again.

“Go ahead and get Violet,” you said, panting. “I’ll be right here.”

His eyes roved over your face, searching for any indication that you might start hurting again, but it didn’t happen. He kissed your hot forehead and left the room. You heard his footsteps going softly down the hall to Violet’s room.

Gwilym’s heart pounded. The hallway seemed to be so much longer now that there was an emergency and Sybil was coming at last. It seemed unreal that only hours ago, he had gone to the therapist with you and rebuffed an advance from her. That was a whole other world away now. The only thing that mattered now was your safety and the baby’s.

He entered Violet’s room. Swiftly, he strode to her bedside, kneeling down beside her. Her nightlight was a soft yellow, warming her complexion. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she stirred.

“Daddy?” she said through yawn. 

“Wake up, lovie,” he said gently. “Your sister is coming.”

She sat upright. “What?!”

“That’s right,” he chuckled. “Get dressed now. We’ve got to get your mum to hospital.”

“Okay!” she cried, clamoring out of the bed and running to her closet.

“Need any help?” he offered.

“I’m not important right now!” she returned. “You need to go help Mommy!”

He laughed, kissed her head, and departed back down the hall. 

“Alright,” Gwilym said as he re-entered the bedroom. “Violet’s getting dressed. Let me help you out of the bed, love.”

“O-okay,” you returned shakily, holding out your hand.

He grasped it, and your upper arm. You started to move your legs to the side, but winced. It hurt. A shooting pain reached from your back all the way down your legs. 

“What’s the matter?” he wondered.

“It’s painful,” you breathed. “I dunno if I can walk.”

Gwilym panicked, but kept a straight face for your sake. He wouldn’t be able to carry you to the car on his own. He settled you back into bed.

“I’m going to call Dr. Tate,” he said. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Alright, honey,” you sighed.

Gwilym opened the door to find Violet standing there, preparing her hand to knock. She grinned up at him.

“I’m ready to go,” she said.

“Just a minute, lovie,” he returned. “You can go in and sit with Mum if you like.”

She nodded and then skipped into the room. Gwilym stepped out. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and dialed Dr. Tate’s cell phone. She had given you that number in case of an emergency. He definitely considered this an emergency.

“Hello?” came a groggy voice after about four rings.

“Dr. Tate?” Gwilym replied. “It’s Gwilym Lee.”

“Hello, Mr. Lee,” she said, sounding more alert now. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N’s gone into labor,” he said.

He explained to her how you’d been in labor for hours now, but had not woken him, and things were quickly becoming more serious.

“She can’t walk,” he went on. “She’s in too much pain.”

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asked.

“No, honestly, I didn’t even think of that,” he replied.

His brain felt sort of fuzzy. Why on earth had he forgotten about an ambulance? That should have been obvious. But every ounce of logic was clouded with one thing - his daughter was being born right this second. He had a brutal urge to just step outside and shout into the air. That was what he was feeling. 

“That’s alright,” Dr. Tate assured him. “I can call one for you. Or, if you don’t want to move her, I can come to your home and deliver the baby there.”

Gwilym’s heart leapt at the suggestion. So, he assumed it was the right thing.

“Yes, please, let’s do that,” he said.

“Alright,” she replied. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He said goodbye and hung up. He didn’t immediately go back to your room though. Instead, he took a moment to breathe. Every muscle, every cell in his body felt like it was trembling with anticipation. He observed his hands. They were shaking. After a few deep, calming breaths, he returned to you.

“So,” he began. “Dr. Tate is coming here. We don’t have to go anywhere.”

You chuckled, but even that hurt your back.

“God, I’m never gonna have a baby in a hospital, am I?” you joked.

“I wasn’t born in a hospital?” Violet questioned.

“No, baby, you were born in a closet,” you told her.

Her little eyes went round like an owl’s.

“Woah, Mommy...you’re a badass,” she said.

Gwilym frowned and tutted at her.

“Violet, where did you learn that word?” he demanded.

“Uncle Joe,” she answered.

“When did he -? Nevermind. Violet, that’s not a very nice -”

You cut across him. “Don’t scold her, Gwil. She’s right and she should say it.”

You all started to laugh together. For a fleeting moment, the fear of the situation disappeared and you were just sharing a laugh with your family. Then, another contraction struck. You hissed with pain and gripped your belly. Violet and Gwilym turned eyes on you, each of them taking one of your hands. You looked at your husband.

“Is Dr. Tate really coming?” you choked out.

He almost replied that it was a silly question. But it hit him that it was because of everything you’d been through. So much of your trust was broken, especially with the new people in your life. Just when he opened his mouth to reassure you it would be fine and she would be here soon, his phone rang. It was Dr. Tate.

“Hello?” he said.

“Mr. Lee, I’m so sorry,” she said. “My car’s broken down and I can’t even leave my house. You may want to call emergency services after all.”

“But, you still wouldn’t make it to the hospital,” he argued.

“Yes, but there are plenty of other doctor’s there to help,” she said. “The whole staff there is incredible, and -”

“But she doesn’t know any of them,” he said.

“I know, and I really am sorry, I was so excited to meet Sybil, but I just can’t get there,” she said, defeated.

“Let me call you a cab or something,” he offered.

“Oh, Mr. Lee, I couldn’t let you do that,” she refused. 

“What’s going on?” you wondered after catching your breath.

“Dr. Tate’s got some car trouble,” Gwilym answered.

“What?!” you gasped.

Gwilym put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

“I could come get you,” he said to Dr. Tate.

“You shouldn’t leave Y/N in case anything happens,” she insisted. “Really, it’ll be fine if you go -”

“No, no more bloody let downs,” he said. 

Dr. Tate sputtered for a response.

“Daddy, if you can’t go get her, why not ask Adam?” Violet suggested. “He’s Mommy’s assistant.”

“That’s brilliant, Vi!” he cried, kissing her head excitedly.

“What? No, we can’t bother him with this!” you interjected. 

“Darling, please!” Gwilym cried. “Please! People are showing up for you today, alright? You’re giving birth, and believe it or not, we all love you and truly, genuinely want to help. Including Adam. So please just let us.”

Your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. You smiled.

“Okay,” you conceded. “Do what you need to.”

“Dr. Tate, we’re sending Y/N’s assistant to you to pick you up,” Gwilym said. “His name is Adam. I’ll just need you to send me your address so I can send it to him.”

“Okay, then,” she agreed.

Gwilym called Adam to ensure he was awake. He was, and immediately agreed to go and get the doctor. When Gwilym hung up, he returned to you.

“Turn on your side, love,” he said, reclining beside you. “I’ll rub your back.”

“You’re an angel,” you replied.

You needed his help in turning over, which he was happy to do. Violet climbed on the bed between you and added her hands as well. Gwilym showed her how to apply just enough pressure to relieve the pain.

An hour passed. Your labor had progressed now to where the contractions were less than two minutes apart and your pain had increased to a near unbearable amount. You were in tears and clinging to Gwilym for dear life. He had returned you to your position on your back because he feared at any moment, the time to begin pushing would be upon you. He checked his phone but there was no word from Adam or Dr. Tate, despite the numerous calls he’d made.

“Come on, Adam, pick up,” he muttered, calling once again.

He got Adam’s voicemail and nearly screamed.

Then, you let out a cry like nothing he’d ever heard before. It was strangled and broken as you threw your head back into the pillows. Your sweat-coated chest heaved and you sobbed.

“Aaaaahhhhh, Gwil!” you shouted. “It’s starting!”

“Oh, God, really?!” he cried.

He moved so he was sitting on his knees, between your legs. Violet stood up by your shoulders, crying silently. She was holding your hand.

“I CAN FEEL HER!” you shrieked.

Gwilym looked. He couldn’t see the head yet, but he didn’t doubt that you felt it. Terror rushed through him. He swallowed, trying not to let you see how scared he was. He knew nothing about delivering a child, and he didn’t want to mess anything up. He looked desperately over at Violet.

“Violet, I think we’re on our own,” he said. “Go to the closet and get as many clean towels as you can. Then you need to go to the kitchen and get a bowl of hot water. As hot as it will go, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said with a firm nod.

She left the room, and started down the hall to the linen closet. He heard her struggling with the towels and he started to go and help her, but then the doorbell rang. It wasn’t just one ring, either, it was several frenzied rings like someone was pressing it rapidly.

“I’ll get it!” Violet called.

Gwilym looked at you. You reached for him and he gave you his hand.

“She’s coming,” you said thickly. “She’s nearly here, Gwil, I - oh SHIT!”

You writhed against the bed, squeezing his hand so hard he swore the bones cracked. But he didn’t show one ounce of discomfort. He just whispered soothing words into your ear.

Violet burst back into the room, followed by Adam and Doctor Tate, who both were red-faced and winded.

“What the hell took you?!” Gwilym demanded.

Dr. Tate didn’t answer, she just got straight to work, throwing a sheet over your legs and pulling several tools out of her bag. Adam heaved like he might vomit, but didn’t. He took a deep breath.

“There was a - holy shit,” he panted. “There was a roadblock. The GPS said it was going to be a three hour delay, so we pulled off, parked at a store, and ran the rest of the way here.”

“You ran here?!” Gwilym repeated, astounded.

Before Adam could answer, Dr. Tate interrupted.

“Okay, we’re about to start pushing,” she said. “Adam, could you take Violet and -”

“No,” you said weakly. “They can both stay.”

“Are you sure?” Dr. Tate asked.

You nodded. With that, Adam scooped up Violet, and sat in a chair by the bed. By your head so they wouldn’t see anything too intimate. She placed her little hand on your shoulder and it was such a comfort to you. You started to thank her, but a whimper came out instead.

“Okay, Y/N,” said Dr. Tate. “Are you with me?”

You looked at her. Gwilym stood beside her, holding one of your legs up.

“I am,” you sighed.

“You’re so strong,” she said. “I just need you to keep being strong for a little bit longer. It’s too late to administer drugs, so this won’t be easy. Just remember you’ve done it before. You got this. I need to give me a hard push in three...two...one, PUSH!”

“AAARRRRGGGHHHH!” you cried, putting every ounce of energy you had into pushing.

Gwilym watched, amazed, as the baby’s head began to emerge. You fell back against the pillows and prepared to push again.

Hey you, you're a child in my head

You haven't walked yet

Your first words have yet to be said

But I swear you'll be blessed

I know you're still just a dream

your eyes might be green

Or the bluest that I've ever seen

Anyway you'll be blessed

And you, you'll be blessed

You'll have the best

I promise you that

I'll pick a star from the sky

Pull your name from a hat

I promise you that, promise you that, promise you that

You'll be blessed

I need you before I'm too old

To have and to hold

To walk with you and watch you grow

And know that you're blessed

Finally, with a healthy cry, Sybil Audrey Lee entered the world. 

***

In the coming weeks, you and your family had a ton of visitors. Gwilym’s parents stopped by pretty frequently, but they were always careful that Violet received attention along with Sybil. You had never appreciated two people more.

When Sybil was three weeks old, Joe, Rami, and Ben all made it over to see her. Joe was holding her and giving her a bottle while Violet sat on Gwilym’s lap. They all listened as Gwil told the story of the birth once again.

“Damn,” Joe said. “That’s so intense. How’d you get through it?”

You took Gwilym’s hand. “I couldn’t have done it without Gwil. Violet wasn’t as stubborn about coming out. Sybil was apparently very comfortable in there.”

He laughed, kissing your temple.

“You did it, darling,” he said. “I mostly ran around and panicked.”

Joe threw the burping cloth over his shoulder and adjusted Sybil so he could begin patting her back.

“How are you, Violet?” Ben asked. “Are you helping Mum and Dad?”

“I am!” she returned. “I don’t know how they get on while I’m at school because I do a lot. I feed Sybil all the time, but Mommy or Daddy burps her. I’ve even learned how to change her diapers.”

“Actually, Violet has been incredible,” you admitted. “She helps out with the cleaning as well.”

“Well, Grandma showed me how to do everything, so you guys can sleep!” she said.

“You’re the backbone of the household, lovie,” Gwilym told her. “Just remember to be a kid too.”

The rest of the visit was similarly pleasant, and they agreed to return the next day to take you all to lunch somewhere out of the house.

One thing had not changed since Sybil’s birth. Gwilym still read to Violet every night before bed. No matter how tired he was or what was happening. He refused to let that tradition change. In doing so, he showed Violet that she was still a priority.

Somehow, with Sybil, Gwilym was a natural. You were frequently asking him told take her so you could pump or switch out bras, or put her down so you could close your eyes before having to feed her. He was truly all you could hope for in a father for your child. Since Sybil’s birth, you had not hesitated once to ask him for help. And you stopped apologizing when you did. You had no idea what flipped the switch. You were just glad to be fully a part of a team.

That night, as you placed Sybil in the bassinet, you reflected on the breakthroughs you had made. You felt so lucky. To have a child as sweet as Violet who, even though her feelings still got hurt sometimes, she was becoming very understanding. To have a husband as wonderful as Gwilym, who had fought so hard for the birth of Sybil to go just right, even though it derailed quite a bit.

Gwil joined you after putting Violet to bed. You watched him go and kiss Sybil gently before climbing into bed with you. You smiled and hummed happily.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I was just thinking how wonderful it is that Sybil has you and Violet in her life,” you said. “She’s very blessed, you know.” You leaned over and kissed his lips tenderly. When you pulled back, you held his gaze.

“And so am I.”

[powerfultulips]

soft asks pwease? (pleading emogi)

1. cherry - what is your sexuality?

fuck if i know man i’m just gay as fuck for everyone especially @literally-an-envelope

2. lollipop - favorite makeup products?

i don’t really use makeup. like, at all

3. daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be?

i would be me but with less dysphoria and more teleportation abilities

4. october - what month were you born in?

february!

5. caress - do you like to snuggle?

YESYESYESYESYESSYEYESESYEYSES

6. ivory - describe your pajamas?

usually a t-shirt and pajama pants, sometimes i just wear my underwear with a t-shirt

7. golden - favorite stationery product?

i like those little legal pads, especially the yellow ones

8. freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

my green dallas stars hoodie. love that thing

9. twilight - best friend?

my fiancé is my best friend! i have lots of good friends but he is my favorite person in the whole wide world :)

10. silk - do you like k-pop?

i don’t really have an opinion, i’ve never listened to kpop so i can’t say whether it’s good or bad

11. poppy - favorite pastel color?

pastel.... blue or green or pink

12. dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

smiles are cute :) i think it’s more about the whole than the individual features for me, yknow

13. sunkissed - autumn or spring?

autumn, i think

14. buttery - favorite snack?

varies by the day

15. whisper - how much sleep do you get?

too much or not enough

16. pencil - do you own a journal?

several that i don’t really use

17. cupcake - are you a good cook?

no i fucked up grilled cheese last night

18. honey - favorite term of endearment?

sweetheart !!

19. clouds - describe one of your favorite dreams?

i get a lot of dreams where i can sorta float through the air. like flying, but i’m standing straight up. it’s really cool, always freaks the people out in my dreams. sometimes they feel so real that i wonder if i can do that in real life

20. velvet - who was your first crush?

a girl who probably had cooties. ew /j

21. paper - favorite children’s book?

hooway for wodney wat. i have like three copies. one of them is in spanish

22. peaches - do you have a skincare routine?

no <3

23. mochi - favorite studio ghibli film?

howl’s moving castle, because it’s the only one i’ve seen yet

24. backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend?

quite a few! one of them had tattoos even though he was like 9

25. strawberry - favorite fruit?

kiwi or coconut, or blackberries.

26. kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?

yep 😳 i’d do it again, too

27. nightlight - do you read before bed?

not usually, but i used to

28. shampoo - favorite scent?

fire 🔥

29. skin - what distant relative are you closest to?

i really don’t think i have one? the closest i am is to my dad’s side of the family, his sisters and their families so like. my aunts, uncles, and cousins on that side i guess

30. aphrodite - favorite actress/actor?

elliot page. never seen anything they’re in but i wuv them

31. cuddles - do you have any pets?

i have stuffies

32. lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

i only have one and it is my favorite currently, but if i get other dresses they might be my favorites!

33. sheets - sanrio or san-x characters?

sanrio!!

34. cream - frozen yogurt flavor?

i like to mix it up tbh. lots of toppings

35. watermelon - do films ever make you cry?

yes

36. sapphos - favorite poet?

adrian matejka or ross gay

37. plush - how many stuffed animals do you still own?

probably a hundred or more

38. roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

i love tulips

39. sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

pavelski cup....

40. sunset - what are your pronouns?

they/them, it/its, she/her, bun/bunself are my main ones

[servingupsurveys]

cherry - what is your sexuality?

I’M A BISEXUAL. (okay soo I forgot the caps was on but I’m leaving it because it’s honestly a mood)

lollipop - favorite makeup products?

Morphe, Tarte, Naked, Elf.

daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be?

I’d be a musician that doesn’t have to survive on customer service jobs.

october - what month were you born in?

September... 12th. I did know a girl who’s birthday was on September 11th.

caress - do you like to snuggle?

Yes...with the right person. I’m basically a cactus to anyone who isn’t my significant other.

ivory - describe your pajamas?

Red flannel pajama pants with a worn out teeshirt that I wouldn’t wear out of the house.

golden - favorite stationary product?

Planners. I like to pretend my life is put together.

freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

Graphic tees.

twilight - best friend?

I’m not cool enough for one of those.

silk - do you like k-pop?

I’m obsessed with Blackpink.

poppy - favorite pastel color?

Pastel blue and purple.

dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

Eyes and smile.

sunkissed - autumn or spring?

Spring

buttery - favorite snack?

Cottage cheese.

whisper - how much sleep do you get?

Anywhere from 5-12 hours.

pencil - do you own a journal?

No. I don’t have the attention span to keep up with one.

cupcake - are you a good cook?

I’ve been told.. but I hate doing it.

honey - favorite term of endearment?

my boyfriend calls me “love”.

clouds - describe one of your favorite dreams?

meh. I honestly don’t have one that stood out to me.

velvet - who was your first crush?

Dylon from 1st grade. My art teacher confiscated my stuffed bunny so he reached up to grab it.

paper - favorite children’s book?

Junie B. Jones.

peaches - do you have a skincare routine?

Nothing other than the occasional facial mask.

mochi - favorite studio ghibli film?

Don’t have one.

backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend?

When I was 3, I had an imaginary friend named Jack.

strawberry - favorite fruit?

Bananas

kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?,

Yes. When I was 6/7, me and my childhood best friend used to have pretend weddings and kiss eachother. We haven’t talked about it... honestly I don’t want to embarrass her because she’s actually straight.

nightlight - do you read before bed?

Sometimes.

shampoo - favorite scent?

Vanilla or citrus.

skin - what distant relative are you closest to?

My 2nd cousin Kari. Anytime we get together, we’re basicially inseperable.

aphrodite - favorite actress/actor?

Rachel Mcadams.

cuddles - do you have any pets?

A chihuahua.

lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

My floral pink dress I bought from Torrid.

sheets - sanrio or san-x characters? Sanrio.. I never heard of San-x until now but I grew up on Hello Kitty so.

cream - frozen yogurt flavor?

cookie dough.

watermelon - do films ever make you cry?

Titantic or The Fault In Our Stars are the movies that I will intentionally put on when I feel I’m bottling up my emotions.

sapphos - favorite poet?

Rupi Kaur.

plush - how many stuffed animals do you still own?

like 9 or 10.

roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

tulips are gorgeous.

sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

I have a cup with a bunch of musical notes on it.

sunset - what are your pronouns?

She/her.

[pikaglove]

Soft asks: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39 and 40 :)

cherry - what is your sexuality?

Straight.

lollipop - favorite makeup products?

Don't wear a lot of makeup but I went with wet and wild

daydreams - if you could be anything or anyone, who would you be?

I'd be a borrower or a better version of myself

october - what month were you born in?

June

caress - do you like to snuggle?

Yes

ivory - describe your pajamas?

Right now I am wearing an incredibles tshirt, and blue mimikyu bottoms, and fuzzy Christmas socks

golden - favorite stationary product?

Uhhh I'll say notebooks

freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

Just a graphic tshirt and jeans

twilight - best friend?

@emjcarr is one of many

silk - do you like k-pop?

I might have listened to a few when I was 16 but I could not remember anything about it

poppy - favorite pastel color?

Blue

dimples - most attractive features of a person’s face?

I personally like beards

sunkissed - autumn or spring?

Autumn

buttery - favorite snack?

Chocolate chip cookies

whisper - how much sleep do you get?

Usually 7

pencil - do you own a journal?

I own 2 empty notebooks and an idea book

cupcake - are you a good cook?

Nope

honey - favorite term of endearment?

Probably babe

clouds - describe one of your favorite dreams?

I explained this more on my sideblog, but basically I dreamt that a girl and a guy were running from zombies and to escape them they jumped into a tree that was filled with lava but a giant boy emerged from the tree and saved them and the girl and the giant kissed.

velvet - who was your first crush?

A senior who was in my film class when I was 15

paper - favorite children’s book?

I can't really remember. I had a green eggs and ham book tho

peaches - do you have a skincare routine?

If I see a zit, I put 3 different formulas on it to get rid of it

mochi - favorite studio ghibli film?

The secret world of arrietty

backyard - did you ever have an imaginary friend?

Yes, I did. His name was Ditter. I described him as wearing all black with pale skin but for some reason he was dirty and he lived in the bathroom. I didn't really have long term friends growing up so I kept him until I was 9.

strawberry - favorite fruit?

Cherry

kiss - have you ever kissed a friend?,

For a truth or dare

nightlight - do you read before bed?

Sometimes

shampoo - favorite scent?

Bananas

skin - what distant relative are you closest to?

Probably my cousin

aphrodite - favorite actress/actor?

Me

cuddles - do you have any pets?

A bengal named Simba

lace - if you own any dresses, which is your favorite?

This black one I wore for my lead role in Lend me a Tenor

sheets - sanrio or san-x characters?

Idk what this means

cream - frozen yogurt flavor?

Lemon?

watermelon - do films ever make you cry?

Depends on the film, but mostly yeah

sapphos - favorite poet?

Not too into poetry but Edgar Allen Poe is cool

plush - how many stuffed animals do you still own?

Too many to count

roses - what flower do you find most beautiful?

Chrysanthemums

sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

This togepi mug my friend @emalinegraceart got me for Christmas

sunset - what are your pronouns?

She/her

[snufmin-is-life]

Long list of facts about Lilja:

What makes them cry?

-When she's alone for too long and becomes lonely. Whenever she's in a heated argument she almost always starts to cry. Sometimes when she's overstimulated she cries but very rarely.

How would your OC describe themselves?

-quiet but friendly. Loyal to close friends and family. Creative and loves to draw and write. Absolutely loves music and playing the banjo.

What does your OC smell like?

-Pine trees, sage, and mint (she likes being clean and smelling like it)

What spice best represents your OC?

-Cumin

What is your OC’s most listened to song/artist of the year? of the decade?

-She listens to Snufkin play his harmonica a lot, as for an official song that would be There Beneath by The Oh Hellos

How does your OC sleep?

What do they wear to bed? What positions do they sleep in? How many pillows/blankets/mattresses do they need? Lights on or off? Any specific rituals around bedtime?

-They wear a big nightshirt to sleep in that they got from Snufkin.

She usually sleeps on their side but sometimes on their stomach.

They use one pillow but have a lot of plushies they sleep with.

They have a lot of blankets on their bed because they like the feel of the weight.

Lights off, a small lantern lighted for a nightlight.

She normally reads or writes before she goes to sleep, or she occasionally messes with their banjo (but not too much as it wakes Moomin).

During winter it's harder for them to sleep.

A stranger smiles at your OC in public. How does your OC respond?

-If she's literally never met them before she keeps their head down and doesn't keep eye contact with them.

What does your OC do when they get a stain on their clothes?

-She'll try to wash it as good as she can to lighten it. She hates any reminders of dirtiness on their body or clothing.

What is your OC’s favorite item of clothing they own?

-Their small cloak (similar to a poncho?)

Does your OC generally assume the best or the worst in people ?

-She tries to assume the best in people.

Does your OC listen to the same some on repeat for 6 months straight or are they regularly seeking out new songs?

-Almost always listens to The Oh Hellos and hasn't really tried to find any other band.

Is your OC good with kids?

Do they want kids?

Do they even like kids?

-She does best with older kids (7 and up) younger kids stress them out too easily. She's not sure if she wants kids, she's not too focused on that at the moment. She generally likes kids, especially due to the fact they're filled with imagination and wonder.

How can you tell if your OC is in a good mood? How can you tell of they're in a bad one?

-When she's happy she stims by foot tapping and stimming by shaking their paws.

When she's in a bad mood she avoids making eye contact, rubs their torso with their arms over and over (something I do), and also scratches their skin a lot.

What is the worst thing your OC has ever done? Do they regret it?

-Not sure if this is the exact worst thing she's done but once she was in an argument with Snufkin and she snatched his harmonica and threw it into the ocean. At first she didn't regret it but then realized that it would be like if someone threw their banjo in the ocean. She regretted it then. Later she purchases him a new one as a way to apologize.

What’s your OC’s favorite animal? Favorite mythical creature? Favorite cryptid?

-She loves foxes. Their favorite mythical creature is Pegasus. Favorite cryptid is either The Lock Ness monster or Moth Man.

Does your OC prefer Grand Romantic Gestures or little acts of care?

-Definitely little acts of care. She tends to get really flustered if it's a grand romantic gesture.

What does your OC do when they can’t fall asleep?

-Goes for a walk outside till she feels sleepy.

Does your OC dress for practicality or for the aesthetic?

-More for practicality. Don't get me wrong she likes fashion but would rather be prepared so practical clothes are better.

How does your OC respond to being told "I love you"?

-Usually with a smile and if she feels like it she'll ask for a hug.

What makes your OC go feral?

-Birds.

How does your OC calm down when they’re angry?

-Stimming and sitting in their room until she calms down.

Does your OC take a soup or a salad?

-Soup. She likes salad but it can be too cold.

What is the strangest thing your OC always carries in their pocket/bag, and why?

-An old stick doll that Snufkin made for them when they were little. It gives them good luck.

Is your OC more of a casual flirting type, a type to have crushes, or a falling in love type?

-Crushes.

Is your OC more of a thinker, a talker, or a doer?

-Thinker.

What kind of first impression does your OC give?

-Snufkin clone.

What would The Bad Place look like for your OC? what would be their specially tailored form of eternal torture?

-Loud sounds, flashing lights, basically an overstimulation goldmine.

What was your OC's first word as a baby?

-"Muumee" aka moomin.

Is there a smell your OC can’t stand?

-Vinegar.

What kind of socks does your OC wear?

-Wool socks.

How does your OC react to seeing a spider in their house?

-She always gets help from their dads to get rid of it. She's extremely scared of spiders.

What is your OC’s comfort food?

-Mashed potatoes.

How physically affectionate is your OC?

-She's ok with most physical affection as long as she initiates it. She's not especially huggy though.

Does your OC thrive on change or stability?

-Stability. She needs structure and a routine to thrive.

What are your OC’s three favourite scents?

-Snufkin's smoking herbs, the pancakes Moomin cooks in the morning, and lavender.

What colours does your OC wear the most? Which ones do they avoid wearing?

Purple is their favorite color. Neon colors she tends to avoid simply because they're very bright.

What was your OC’s childhood fear?

-She was scared of the Lady of the cold and the Groke.

What is your OC most likely to get arrested for?

-Messing with parkkeepers and pulling up signs like their pappa Snufkin.

Who does your OC call in the middle of the night when they need someone to talk to?

-Moomin. He's a great comforter.

Are they multilingual? what languages do they speak?

-All the languages that Lilja speaks from most fluent to least fluent: Finnish, Swedish, English.

If you OC were a fruit, what would they be and why?

-Passion fruit?

What is your OC’s opinion on candy corn?

-Flavor is tolerable and texture is eh.

What colour pen does your OC use?

-Purple.

[slapshotsandoneshots]

Player: Freddie Anderson – Toronto Maple Leafs

Prompt: 

Mentions:. None.

Warnings: None. Pure Fluff

Preview: That left you no choice but to throw your own New Year’s Eve pajama party with Flynn. Flannel pants and one of Freddie’s sweaters weren’t exactly the gold dress you had bought, but your slippers were far more comfortable than the heels you had planned on wearing.

Word Count: 1041

The Masterlist is Here.

When you heard muffled whimpers sounding from the baby monitor, you softly got up from your spot on the couch, the sound of the new year’s special softly playing on the TV. This was supposed to be your first night out in quite a while. Freddie had a New Year’s event with the Leafs but Flynn had gotten sick at the last minute and you werent comfortable leaving your young baby in the hands of a babysitter.

That left you no choice but to throw your own New Year’s Eve pajama party with Flynn.

Flannel pants and one of Freddie’s sweaters weren’t exactly the gold dress you had bought, but your slippers were far more comfortable than the heels you had planned on wearing.

Once you reached the end of the hall, you pushed open the door to the nursery. The first thing you saw was the tiny nightlight that projected stars onto the walls, the soft lullaby that played with it had long ended. As quietly as you could, you tiptoed over to the crib and peeked your head in. You had expected to see the sleeping baby you had tucked in snuggly hours ago. Instead, you found a set of soft brown eyes staring up and gurgling at you.

“You wanted to be my New Year’s kiss, didn’t you?” You smiled as you reached down and scooped the baby up, settling a bundle of blankets on your hip before heading downstairs.

Between three and four months was a funny age for a baby. While they were supposed to be

sleeping through the night and going longer without a feeding, it didn’t always happen. It was a trial and error situation, and you would get into a routine eventually. It also didn’t help that Flynn had been running a fever in the afternoon. You felt his forehead but he felt cool.

For now, you figured a warm bottle and some cuddling would do the trick.

In the kitchen, you heated up a bottle. Deciding it was warm enough, you

adjusted the baby in your arms and walked back to the living room, only stopping when a soft rustle sounded from the door. You lifted a brow, remembering that the time on the microwave read 11:25. It was well past an appropriate time for anyone to be visiting and Freddie wouldn’t be home till long after midnight.

But then, after squinting a bit to see through the frost covered glass, you recognized the person

standing outside wrestling his keys into the door.

“What are you doing up?” Freddie asked, looking straight past you as he stepped through the door. He closed it behind him, a wry smile spreading over his lips as he stole the baby from your arms.

“It’s well past your bedtime!” He said, making faces at Flynn until he coaxed out a sleepy giggle.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you noted, twisting the lock on the door before turning back to

Freddie. The event ran until one and it was mandatory attendance.

“Course I am.” He looked over at you, smiling as he took the bottle from you. “Where else would I be?”

You shrugged, crossing your arms as you followed him into the living room. He shook his coat from his shoulder before collapsing onto the couch. “This isn’t exactly Leaf’s big New Year’s Eve party.”

Freddie cradled the baby in one arm, his elbow resting against a pillow as he fed it the bottle making your son seem even smaller next to his huge frame.

“I’d rather be here.”

You smiled over at him, curling your legs onto the couch. You had felt bad when you told him you couldn’t go tonight, afraid that you might have disappointed him. You had these plans for weeks and Freddie had not gotten much alone time since Flynn was born.

“Did you have fun?” You asked, resting your head onto the cushions.

Freddie shrugged, tilting the bottle. “Not really,” he said, looking at me quickly. “I wanted you there.”

“I’m sorry baby. I feel awful, Flynn isn’t even running a fever anymore.” you told him.

Freddie shrugged again. “It’s alright, no big deal.”

You found yourself dozing in and out as you listened to Freddie quietly laugh at the sounds the baby would make. After a few minutes, he handed you the nearly empty bottle and slowly cradled the baby against his chest.

“Grab that pillow for me.” Freddie nudged his head as he began rubbing soft circles over the baby’s back.

Knowing what Freddie was doing, you leaned over and grabbed the pillow and dropped it onto your lap. Smiling, he kicked off his shoes, swiveling around and dropping his back slowly against the pillow. He shrugged his shoulders around, trying to get comfortable and making sure Flynn was laying softly on his chest before sighing.

“This is nice,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With the baby’s quiet snores filling the background, you focused your attention back on the TV. The countdown was winding down, leaving less than sixty seconds remaining in the year.

When the clock struck midnight, everyone on the TV erupted. Amidst all the laughing and cheering, fireworks and confetti flew around in the air. Smiling, you looked down at Freddie and your son.

With his eyes closed, the baby had a tight grip on the lapel of his dress shirt. You brushed your fingers through his hair, flattening it out before you leaned down and placed a kiss against his forehead.

When you pulled away, you watched as he peeked one sleepy eye open. As a grin spread over his lips, he lifted his neck just enough to catch you in a soft kiss, his lips lingering for just a moment before he settled back against the pillow.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

[neversatisfiedswitch]

Wake Up

Author’s Note: Wow, that title is strange on its own, but hey! It’s a title! An improvement from my normal non-title things! :D So my beautiful OC Tarja has been on my mind. She’s wonderful and if you don’t know anything about her, please go look at my OC pages, under “Demons”. Anyway!

Another thing that was on my mind was my tickle headcanons post I did for a small chunk of my OCs, bc for Tarja’s description of what she’s like as a ler, I felt a demonstration of her methods was needed. :3

Summary: A normal day in the Quinn household, where big sister Tarja has to wake her little brothers.

Words: 1601

Emerald eyes fluttered open, catlike pupils dilating and contracting as they took in the room. A phone alarm blared next to her ear, and as quickly as she reached over to turn it off, she remembered why she’d set an alarm this early.

Gig in four hours. Right. What Tarja wouldn’t give to just call all of this off, just say that they’d do this tomorrow-- but a gig was a gig, and with her being the oldest in this house and the founder of the band, she couldn’t be that irresponsible.

Morning person she wasn’t, but it didn’t stop her from springing out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts-- wear pants to bed? Unheard of-- and spraying water on her hair, in an attempt to coax the pink locks to cooperate with her hairbrush. The blue streak was fading-- she’d have to fix that soon, but not now.

Stepping out of her room, the rest of her morning routine became clockwork. It was simple, really-- before anything else could get done, her brothers had to be awake. If they weren’t, it just wouldn’t work. So she started by quietly entering Xan’s bedroom, just down the hall from her room, shutting the door just as quietly behind her.

The eldest Quinn brother had, as per the norm, fallen asleep the completely wrong way-- with his feet at the head of the bed and vice versa. Thankfully, this time he was on top of the covers rather than under them, and as per usual again, his headphones were over his ears, blasting soothing music. He could never sleep without something to listen to.

Tarja carefully removed his headphones, glad that he’d left his glasses on his bedside table-- he had a bad habit of leaving them on and falling asleep. She gently pried his fingers from his iPod to turn his music off, then sat down next to him, brushing long, blond locks from his face. A soft purr left his throat, and Tarja couldn’t help but chuckle-- Xan was always adorable when he was asleep.

“Xaaaan~...” She cooed, lightly shaking his shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, but he turned his head away, mumbling something incoherent. “Xan, you have to get up. Don’t tell me you forgot about our gig?”

His voice was low, as it always was in the morning, his words slurring a bit. “... Jus’ a few more minutes...” He yelped suddenly as Tarja shoved her hands under his arms, which were pillowing his head. Uncharacteristically shrill giggles escaped his lips as Tarja wiggled her fingers, wrapping one leg around one of his. “No can do, love. You’ve gotta get up.”

Really, this was so easy. A few teasing words and wiggling fingers in his armpits, and Xan would do anything she asked him to. She could have punished him for trying to ignore her, but cruel wasn’t a word used to describe Tarja. Stilling her fingers, she leaned down to press a kiss to Xan’s temple, giggling as he groaned. “Can you lift your arms? Kinda need these, y’know.” Swiftly poking his armpits to show her point earned her another yelp, and Xan quickly lifted his arms, lowering them just as fast.

Tarja stood, cheerfully smiling down at her brother once more before practically skipping out of the room. One down, three to go.

Nexx’s room was right across the hall from Xan’s. Unsurprisingly, his entire bed was empty, save for himself and two pillows-- one under his head, and one held to his chest. It made Tarja’s job so much easier, really-- considering the drummer was the quickest-moving one of the bunch, it was a cakewalk now.

Without a word, she leaped onto his bed, pinning him under her and drilling her thumbs into his hips. With a loud shriek, Nexx’s eyes shot open, and he immediately began laughing, hands clasping around Tarja’s wrists as he dissolved into a cackling mess. She was too good at this, knowing which spots were the worst for her brothers to handle and taking complete advantage of it when she needed them to cooperate with her.

“Nexx, you kicked your blankets off again...” Her only response was laughter, forest green eyes already filling with tears of mirth. Stopping her assault, Tarja moved to sit next to her middle brother, mussing up already-messy strawberry blond locks. “You... you already know... I do that every night...”

A gentle smile, followed by a kiss to the still-giggling boy’s forehead. “I know. I just thought I’d point it out so you don’t trip over ‘em.” Snorting, Nexx sat up to stretch as she exited his room. “Yeah, thanks... I’ll do my best not to.”

Vix was next, his room near the other end of the hall. He’d fallen asleep with a book across his chest, a small pile next to him. Thankfully he must have been reading with his phone and turned off the screen when he felt tired, because there were no lights on. Vix was the one she had to watch out for, because on occasion he could pretend he was asleep just to run out on her-- but the gentle rise and fall of the book on his chest confirmed for her that he was definitely asleep.

She carefully sat at the end of his bed, pulling the covers up until she found one of his feet. Wrapping one of her legs around his ankles to keep his foot in place, she gently ran one finger up and down the sole of his foot, earning some startled-sounding squeaky giggles. She giggled herself as she used both hands to lightly tickle around his toes, knowing he was definitely awake when his other foot pushed at her back.

“Vix, you know laughing this early in the morning might disrupt your voice~” Clearly there was nothing stopping her from “disrupting” his voice-- as soon as her fingertips wormed between his toes, he very nearly screamed with laughter, his free foot smacking more against the bed than her back as he tried his damnedest not to hit her too much. The consequences for that were worse than her wake-up tickles for sure.

After looking back at him and seeing how red his face was, Tarja’s fingers changed from torturing her brother to gently rubbing his foot instead, a bright smile on her face as his laughter died down to giggles. “Really, don’t forget to do your vocal exercises-- I’m not savin’ you if you end up croakin’ like that one time.”

Pulling his foot back and running his hands through his black hair, the teen groaned. “Don’t remind me, god, I’m still getting tweets about it.” Laughing softly, Tarja kissed his cheek, making him grumble and pointedly wipe the kiss away as she walked out of the room.

Zane was the last one to wake up-- since he was the baby of the family, Tarja always felt that he needed the most sleep, and the gentlest approach to being woken up. As she entered his room, she noticed in the gentle glow of his nightlights that he was on his back, the covers kicked to the end of his bed-- perfect.

She carefully laid down next to Zane, ruffling his brown hair, her voice soft. “Zane... time to wake up...” As his eyelids fluttered, she could just barely see the colors change-- from surprised yellow to sleepy orange and back to his normal blue-- before they closed again. She “tsk”ed playfully, lifting his shirt and lightly spidering her fingers across his tummy. His eyes were yellow again as they shot open, and he immediately attempted to curl in on himself, giggles and snickers escaping him. But she knew how to keep him from curling up, moving one hand to prod at his side so he would jerk away-- straight into her arms.

She kept one arm wrapped around his chest, her free hand tracing circles around his belly button as he shrieked and squirmed as much as he could in her hold. Despite his attempts to escape, though, she knew he enjoyed it. Being the most ticklish didn’t mean he hated it, desperation to get away be damned.

Of course, as much as she wanted to tickle him to tears, Tarja knowing that Zane was awake meant she had to get a move on. So with a single poke to his belly button, making him squeak loudly and nearly jump out of his skin, Tarja released him, kissing his forehead when he turned to look at her.

“We’ll finish this later, kid. Don’t think I’m letting you off so easy.” A short wiggle of her fingers over his tummy, not even close to touching it, and he giggled, bringing his knees up. She laughed softly, shaking her head as she stood. “Don’t forget your pick when you come back up later. I dunno if I have any spares, and I don’t want you hurting your fingers.”

She didn’t leave the room until he was out of bed, and she headed back to her room to get dressed, leaving her makeup for later. When she descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, she was pleased with what she saw-- Xan with his hair tied up and making pancakes, Nexx setting the table (and drumming on the table with the silverware, of course), Vix making coffee, and Zane getting mugs and glasses ready.

Tarja couldn’t help but smile fondly. This was where her morning routine paid off.

[paharvey99]

No Waitrose October 8 - Days 3-4

Day 3

The great plan for Day 3 was to go swimming in the afternoon. Regular readers will remember that that was the great plan for Day 2 as well, but no matter. We spent the morning pottering about in anticipation of the execution of the great plan, doing, well, I can’t really remember what. Sunday morning things.

At about 11.15am, the five year old I live with announced that she was hungry, so I started making some lunch. I thought we’d have some pasta, that seemed like a good pre-swim meal. It was a bit early for lunch, so I wasn’t in any particular hurry to get the food on the table. I was ambling around sorting stuff out in the kitchen when I heard some shouting from the sofa, so I went to investigate what the problem was.

“DADDY ARE YOU MAKING LUNCH?”

“Yes, I’m making some pasta. Do you want red pasta or plain pasta?”

“DADDY I’M SO HUNGRY THAT IF YOU DON’T GIVE ME SOME LUNCH RIGHT NOW I’M GOING TO PICK MY NOSE AND EAT THE BOGIES.”

Righty ho. I put a little bowl of mozzarella cheese in the microwave and melted it, and that served to stave off the nosepicking threat. I also picked up the pace a bit and about 10 minutes later we had spaghetti in tomato sauce on the table, with some grated mozzarella cheese and broccoli. It was that tenderstem broccoli, the big long florets, they’re fun to eat for five year olds it turns out.

After lunch it was time to go swimming, and this time we managed to gain access to the pool and had a nice hour or so splashing about in the family bit. It was the first time I’d been in a swimming pool in about two years, so I was more amenable to it than usual. I’m generally of the opinion that being half blind, half deaf and half naked in a public place is no way to spend one’s spare time, but the five year old I live with was so excited to be in a swimming pool again that I forgot to have a bad time.

Energised by the successful swimming trip, I threw caution to the wind and suggested a trip to the garden centre to buy some daffodils. I’ve got into gardening since we moved to a house with a garden. We have all the usual spring things out the front - crocuses, bluebells, daffodils, tulips – but none out the back, which seems a shame. Last week I decided to remedy this by planting a load of crocuses and mini alliums in the lawn, a task that turned out to be a lot harder than I had imagined, mainly because I snapped my trowel. Undeterred by this setback, I then decided that I wanted to stick a load of daffodils in there as well, hence the trip to the garden centre.

I filled a paper bag with daffodil bulbs for a fiver, and also got some muscari bulbs and a bulb planter and a pot, because I always buy extra stuff I don’t need at the garden centre.

We then went home and after the swimming pool and the garden centre I decided to ramp up the Sunday vibes even further by doing some roast beef, as it was the five year old I live with’s teatime. I had a topside joint I’d defrosted the day before with this in mind, so it had an hour’s blast in the oven and I knocked up a Yorkshire pudding, peas and gravy to go alongside.

After years of making crap Yorkshire puddings, I have in the last year found one that works. It’s based on volume; you just whisk together the same volume of eggs, flour and milk and pour that into the hot fat. So, say you have two eggs, that’s about 100ml, then you pour flour into the measuring jug up to the same level, and then the milk. I make my Yorkshire puddings in a cast iron frying pan, I get it blisteringly hot on the hob, pour in the batter and then stick it straight into a really hot oven for 15 minutes. It works for me, anyway.

The roast went down well, and then it was time for baths and bed and all that.

In the evening we watched the rest of the film we started on Day 2, The Green Knight. It’s good, it’s worth a look I think. It’s based on a medieval thing, so it’s got a good plot. There’s a quest, you get told at the beginning what’s going to happen, then it happens. I like that kind of plot.

Didn’t go to Waitrose.

Day 4

Woke up feeling pretty low level ill, nothing major, just run down and weary and bleurgh it’s Monday. Upon speaking to my colleagues in the 10am Teams meeting it became clear they all felt the same. We speculated as to whether we had all given each other Covid the previous week, but then decided we were just knackered.

Did a bit of work and then lunched on some eggy mushroom scramble on bagel, a chucked together not much in the fridge sort of a lunch, before heading into Brighton to pick up a suit I bought last week. On Day 8 I will be wearing a suit at a work thing. It’s a black tie event, and I usually hire a suit, but this year I decided to buy a suit instead.

Part of the reason I wanted to buy a suit was that my grandad died a month or so ago, and he left me a bit of money. He was someone who looked good in a suit and liked getting dressed up, so I thought a fancy suit would be an appropriate way to spend some of the money he left me.

I’ve been buying lots of clothes recently, actually. I’ve got into the idea of spending a bit more money on something that’s going to last a long time. Recently I needed some trousers, so instead of getting some H&M jeans in the sale like I usually do, I went looking around and found some work trousers from a company called Carrier Clothing in Norfolk that claimed to be tough, hardwearing, built to last and improve with age. I’ve worn them non-stop for about three weeks now, they’re wonderful. Just what I need to withstand all the hard manual labour that I do. I have a work jacket from the same company made from the same thick cotton. A few days ago I put the jacket and the trousers on at the same time and the person I live with said I looked like Chairman Mao.

The black tie suit that I bought for the black tie do is slightly less redolent of communism. It isn’t actually black though, it’s very very very dark blue. When I was in the shop, the salesman persuaded me that it would be fine for a black tie do, but in the days since I’ve grown less sure. I was keen to see it again to check if it was fit for purpose.

Wearing my Mao get up, I drove into Brighton and parked in the multi storey behind the Brighton Centre. It was only on the way out I noticed it was £6 an hour. Six quid! Still, I’d only be an hour, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I rang the person I live with as I knew there were some children’s wellies she’d bought that I had to collect from Next and I’d need the email confirmation. She sent it over, and it turned out that the wellies wouldn’t be available until 3pm, which was more than an hour away. Six more quid right there. Bastards.

I had an hour to kill, so I went to Morrisons in Kemp Town. It was a favourite haunt from before the five year old I live with was born, but its location and lack of car parking facilities have made it pretty inaccessible for the last five years. It was exciting to be back, they had a special deal on salmon. You could get a whole salmon, head and all, chopped up and wrapped in clingfilm, for about £20. It looked quite frightening. I considered my freezer space and got some pork mince instead.

Then I went and picked up my suit, tried it on, and it fit. I think I should be able to get away with it at a black tie do. Not much choice now, anyway, I’m not buying another one.

After that I went to Next in Churchill Square shopping centre to pick up the children’s wellies. The man on the till couldn’t find my order, so he looked at the email I had and told me I was in the wrong place, and had to go next door to Victoria’s Secret. Now, I don’t want to come across as someone who is flustered by going in a lingerie shop, but if I’d known I was going in Victoria’s Secret I wouldn’t have dressed as Chairman Mao. It’s not what anyone wants. Thankfully the wellies were there and the weird ordeal was soon over.

The five year old I live with goes to after school club on a Monday, so I had time to nip into Lewes Road Sainsburys for a few bits. I can tell you the exact date that I was last in Lewes Road Sainsburys – Friday 15 January 2021. It was the day we moved house. We left our flat in Hove for the last time, had a sausage roll, and drove to Lewes to collect the keys to our new house. On the way though, we had to drop into Argos at Lewes Road Sainsburys to collect some plug in nightlights that we had ordered. We wanted to put them on the stairs in the new house. An hour later we discovered that our new house didn’t have any plug sockets on the stairs, so the whole nightlights kerfuffle had been a total waste of time. Apologies for telling you about it now.

This visit to Lewes Road Sainsburys was slightly more fruitful, I picked up some fruit and reduced price meat items, before heading off to collect the people I live with from work and school respectively.

I made stir fry for tea out of last night’s beef, two nights ago’s rice and a bit of veg. It was good, mainly thanks to some fancy teriyaki sauce I got from the yellow sticker bin in Waitrose last month. Then we watched University Challenge and a documentary about New Labour. I’d taken my Mao off by then.

Didn’t go to Waitrose.

[sockjinnnn-blog]

Duende [part 1]

(n.) the mysterious power of art to deeply move a person

Prologue | Part 1 | 

(KTH/READER) (ft. a bits of jungkook)

(Angst/fluff)

synopsis: There’s no point in wanting more when more means worse. So instead of that, let’s stop wistful thinking and want a difference. Want a difference and make a difference. For that, I chose music as my outlet. (I can’t write summaries, the story itself is better than this I promise.)

Includes fake text and writings in between so make sure to not miss any.

Lyra, My assistant? My best friend? Right, I guess we're a team, I do my singing/playing music part and she helps me to earn some popularity with people who are willing to listen.

I dropped my phone on my bed and fell back on it myself. Really, I'm so proud right now. At the age of 13, I remember then, staring at the guitar in the corner of the room and being absolutely terrified to sing. My flute laid in front of me, wrists aching from playing the piano for too long and wearing jeans because of how impractical it would be to wear a dress or a skirt and to play the cello with it. The age of 13, that was when I realised my happiness had left. But it was before that, at the age of 10 when it started to all be drained from me. Your mom and dad, they mess you up y'know? They may not mean to but they really truly do. I let out a weak, breathy laugh as my back straightened up and I ended up being in a sitting position. 

"Thanks,"

I whispered, letting those words float up into the sky and disappear. "Thanks, mom and dad for giving me the fucking monster of depression and social anxiety. Thank you for making me believe I will never be good enough. Thanks a lot for making me feel like I can’t even be happy again and thank you for making me feel like I can’t let myself be even slightly vulnerable in front of anyone."

///

The venue was much more impressive than I had expected. It smelled of cotton candy, grilled hot dogs and all around festival food and diabetes. The air fresh, peculiarly fresh and was filled with a gentle breeze that seemed to follow along side me and take me dancing with it. The crowds as well, much bigger than I thought. It was also surprisingly easy getting through the crows, what with no need for a disguise because quite frankly, I’m really not that well known. Maybe one day, maybe there will be one fateful day where I will earn some fame any maybe be able to spread my mouth into a genuine and blinding smile. But I guess I will just have to get by without all that for now. 

“Y/n, Y/n! Thank god you’re here.” 

I looked up to see Lyra frantically waving her arm on top of the steps leading to the back of the stage, now quickly stumbling down them. 

“Y/n, god, are you nervous, I’m nervous, I’m-god-, have you heard the people here? Of course you haven’t- you just came...But they’re amazing, honestly and-god-um-good luck.” She fumbled with her words, looking more nervous than I have ever been in my life......That’s a lie. Nothing can compare to the panic attacks I have had before but-

“Lyra?” “Yeah?”

“I’ll be fine, trust me.” You gripped your hands around her shoulders.

“Okay.” Lyra looked at me, gave a half-assed smile and nodded quickly, sticking her tongue around the inside of her mouth, a habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s nervous. “The band here have got all the music that you’re singing, you can practice the cues later when that guy on the stage is done. You’re on around the middle of the show, after a band called Avocado Regulation. Text me if you need anything, okay? I need to start going now.”

Unlike me, Lyra always had a plan that she stuck too, didn’t dream too big and settled now for a part-time job at the local Waterstone.

“Yeah, see you after?” I grinned, letting go of her and stood in one spot as she ran out of the place.

I turned back so I’m now walking back into the area where the rest of the people performing tonight were sitting. It should be my turn to practice pretty soon...Thinking this, I placed myself down on one of the chairs in the corner of the room, right beside the water fountain. On the water fountain was the schedule/program for the night and just like Lyra had informed you-you're on right after Avocado Regulation and right before a singer named V, about halfway through the show, number 7.

What happened at the age of seven? That was the year before I turned eight. The year before I realised how crap existence can be and how much I craved to actually live. It was the year before, I think, that I first came to accept the fact that my parents can make mistakes and I don’t have to forgive them for it because they indeed messed me the hell up. But I was so happy then, so childish, full of joy as I made trips to Disney land and pretended that I was a princess who owned the world. I use to be popular too, a laughable thought, just like one that came straight out of a fairytale book. Perhaps one of the many fairy tales that I use to read every night. Every night with a nightlight shining on its own. I was hopeful then-

“Number 6, if you could make your way to the stage please,” A voice boomed and a group of people sitting a few spaces from you stood up. The smile on their faces were unmistakable, unmistakably genuine. They probably worked their butts off to get to this place, poured every piece of their soul into the music they create. I wasn’t sure if the name Avocado Regulation was laughable or commendable but whatever it was meant to be, the group seemed like a team. A great team at that, that seemed, even at a glance, to have a bound as strong as a family.

As you were staring, analysing and for a lack of a better word - judging them, they had left the room and started practising for the performance.  

I quietly let out a breath and reached for my phone. There are 3 people in this room, me, a man and a woman. The man with blue, tousled hair and ripped black jeans that he wore with a polka-dotted button up. The woman with blonde, wavy hair that somehow resembled silk, wearing a mint green sundress. They could be before or after me in the program. But the possibility of them being after me is probably higher, considering the fact that there’s a perfectly good festival vibe thing going on around the stage and who would stay in this inclosed space after they’ve done everything they needed to do?

Seconds later, another man walked in. Brown hair, cut neatly with bangs that might have blocked his vision slightly. A beige trench coat, a striped button up and some basic blue jeans.

He immediately made his way to the water fountain, picked up a cup and filled it up. During this process, I kept my eyes glued to my phone, holding it with my fingers and using my thumb to nonchalantly scroll through Instagram. That indirectly forced me to stare at photos I would otherwise not spare a glance at, of models, of those perfect, skinny girls who are at the top of the social hierarchy. Loved by all, hated by all. All, for the same reason. Because they are only a few of the 7 billion of us and the lifestyle they live is simply un-releastic and will lead them inevitably to becoming depressed with all the pressure being pushed upon them-

“You alright?” 

I looked away from my phone for a second, tilting my head up to see the man who had just walked in giving you a small grin. 

“Yeah...”  I spoke, making my voice as quiet as possible. It’s not as if the others in the room will despise me if I made too much noise but again that something about not liking vulnerability made me reserved.

He gave a sigh, gently shook the bangs out of his face and looked down at me again. “Sorry, you were just staring at that picture for a solid 2 minutes there, you thumb was pressing into the screen like mad too.”

“Oh, um, thanks I guess.” What was I meant to say in this situation?! 

“Are you nervous?” He asked. Looked around. And seeing that there was a spare seat that would allow him to directly face me while sipping from the cup he just filled up...he sat down. “Is this your first stage performance or something.”

Did I look nervous? “Yeah, something like that. My friend booked me into this festival and we’re currently finishing my first album so...” I droned off. 22 years and not one of them have I ever been confident in making small talk or just any conversation in general. 

“That’s great! I haven’t been in this industry long either, got an album though so...” “That’s cool, um” Told you, how did I manage to ruin making small talk with someone? “um sorry, what’s your name? I just didn’t want to seem rude, I-”

“Oh, I’m V.” He said, looking slightly embarrassed, scratching the back of his neck while nodding slowly. “I mean that’s my stage name, my actual name is Taehyung- Kim Taehyung.”

“And I’m y/n Choi; right before you in the program.”

“Oh yeah, the program. I just arrived and barely had a chance to check anything yet, do you mind telling me what number I am?”

“You’re eight.” 

A small 2 seconds of silence.

“Thanks.” He Taehyung said with the same grin he had when he first spoke to you.

And just like that, the small talk was over and the both of you returned to doing what you were doing before. Just, instead of staring at the photos of pretty girls I resourced to keeping my mind on not making my face seem like I’m too nervous or anything. Sometimes social anxiety really gets on my nerves.

[nothingprongwithgoingstag]

He was four and small for his age. His father levitated him onto his shoulders so he could see a parade of quidditch players waving and tossing sweets at the crowd. He tugged on his dad’s hair, feet swinging in excitement, clean, white shoes thumping against his chest.

He was seven and adamant about wearing his personalized Chudley Canons kit every day. The robes were grass stained, the jersey had a hole in the elbow, and he’d grown out of the pants weeks ago. His mother kissed his forehead, told him he could if he finished his juice, and smiled at him from across the table.

He was eleven and he walked out of a dressing room at Madam Malkin’s in plain black robes that came down to his fingertips, brushed against his socks. His father leaned against a cane, mouth twisted into a prideful smirk while his mother blubbered, wondering aloud where his baby fat had gone.

He was eleven and he was on a boat in the dark with a man with a booming voice and kids he did not know. He thought about the blue sheets in his room and the little light on the table his mother referred to “not-a-nightlight” and the smell of pipe smoke that always came from his father’s study after dinner. He thought of the flowers on the china in the cabinet in the dining room and felt bad for ever complaining about eating off of plates with flowers on them.

He was eleven and there was a boy with a funny accent who kept stepping on his new robes as they climbed the stairs of the castle. He felt like he’d had nothing but jelly slugs the way his stomach was doing flip flops even though he’d been too nervous on the train to do anything but stare out the window even when the old lady with the cart had come around with snacks. He hated being called by his last name, he wished his mother was there to call him Jamie and tell the boy behind him to watch where he was walking.

He was eleven and there was a pale boy who looked more scared than he did so James told him a joke he knew that had a swear in it and the pale boy laughed. James liked the way that when he smiled, he did it with his eyes. There was a bigger boy, a quiet boy with a sly sort of look who crouched behind James when he saw three girls that were his cousins and James told the joke with the swear to him and the boy laughed loudly and punched his shoulder. When the professor with the pinched face told them to hush, a little, pudgy boy with wide eyes snickered and then all four of them were clutching one another to keep from laughing.

He was eleven and there was a skinny, mean-looking boy who made fun of James when he said he wanted to be in Gryffindor like his dad. James balled his fists up at his sides and focused on the red hair of the girl in front of him.

He was thirteen and a fourth year with dimples called him cute and sometimes when he spoke his voice jumped up into his throat but that was only when he was nervous and he wasn’t nervous much anymore. He wasn’t short anymore either. Sometimes he would get in trouble for talking too loudly or for showing up late to class with Sirius or, once, for getting caught with a dirty magazine that Peter had planted as a joke but none of that mattered because he was allowed to fly with the Gryffindor squad once a month even though he wasn’t on the team, not yet at least. He still got home sick sometimes and when he did he’d find Remus and Remus would walk with him around the lake or lay with him under a tree and tell him about a book he’d read or they’d race up the hill and James would be too tired to be sad anymore.

He was thirteen and sometimes girls giggled when he raised his voice or teased Snape or pulled a prank on Peter. Sometimes they would touch his arm or write him notes. Not Lily Evans, though. He never could figure out how to make Lily Evans laugh or touch his arm or write him a note. Sometimes, he’d lay in bed late a night thinking about how to get Lily Evans to write him a note.

He was thirteen and he tasted firewhiskey and had his first kiss on the same night. The Gryffindor captain had slipped him a sip and it tasted horrible but he was the captain and he remembered James’s name and his girlfriend was drunk and kept saying James was going to be a heartbreaker. James had never known a sweater could look so good on a girl. When the prefects broke up the party, he bumped into the fourth year with dimples and she kissed him on a dare and James fell asleep wondering if he should write her a note.

He was fourteen and he made the quidditch team. Him. On the quidditch team. He wore his sweater for a week straight and suddenly he was as tall as Sirius and if he concentrated really hard, he could turn his foot into a hoof. He figured out that if he said the jokes he made with the boys loud enough in class, people would laugh but sometimes he would get a detention. Most of the time, it was worth the detention unless it meant missing quidditch practice. Lily Evans still hadn’t written him a note but he wrote her plenty and asked her to dances even though she called him names and hung around Snape. Hexing Snape made him feel better about it. That was the only thing that was worth missing quidditch for.

He was fourteen and he touched a boob. A boob! Right, so maybe it was through a sweater but it totally counted, Sirius, so shut up.

He was fourteen and he could stare at girls all. day. Especially Lily Evans. Especially when she wore jeans.

He was fourteen and he spent a lot of time with the lavatory door locked or his curtains closed and got really good at silencing charms.

He was fourteen and boobs. Godric, boobs.

He was fifteen and he had sorted out that he got to touch a lot more boobs if he stopped staring at, thinking about, or discussing boobs in public. Basically, just acting like he wasn’t distracted by boobs meant that he got to touch a lot more boobs, a lot more boobs, sometimes without sweaters in the way. He also figured out that if, at night, you found quiet parts of the castle and took a girl there, sometimes she would touch you without clothes in the way. That was his favorite thing, not counting quidditch, but it did happen more often when quidditch was going well. Lily Evans had no interest in letting him touch her boobs which was a shame for Lily Evans because he’d gotten pretty good at it, thank you. He spent a lot of time trying to make girls laugh and figured out that if he messed up his hair a lot and smiled a certain way, they often would let him kiss them…sometimes even more. He made lots of jokes and got lots of detentions and over Christmas break, his father called him into his study and told him about stuff that Sirius had taught him third year. James tried not to laugh when his dad said “make love.”

He was fifteen and he could tell he was going to get captain next year, he knew he was going to get captain. Everybody knew it. He drank lots of firewhiskey at a party and took his shirt off and wasn’t self conscious anymore because all of his baby fat was gone finally. Once, at a Hogsmeade weekend, he’d been necking with a girl in a broom cupboard at the Three Broomsticks and she unzipped his trousers and put her mouth on him and James Potter decided that maybe he liked this more than boobs and quidditch combined. Definitely, definitely more than those things. When he told Sirius, he’d high-fived him and Remus had rolled his eyes and made comments about diseases and Peter had practically turned green with envy. He was going to be quidditch captain and a girl had done that, he almost didn’t care that Lily Evans still called him names or rolled his eyes when he followed her around or snapped at him when he asked her out. Fine, he still cared a little bit.

He was fifteen and a seventh year girl offered to “show him the ropes” and depending on who you asked, James Potter either almost or absolutely became a man. Don’t listen to Sirius Black, he doesn’t know anything, he’s just jealous because Marlene McKinnon started that COMPLETELY TRUE rumor about the time he got a boner in potions. Yes, Evans, this is appropriate breakfast conversation—by the way, fancy a date?

He was fifteen and wearing porridge on his face at breakfast because Lily Evans did not think that was appropriate breakfast conversation.

He was fifteen and he had girls who were friends and girls who wanted to touch him without his clothes on and and he was quidditch captain and he had the four best mates in the world and he was pretty sure that one time Lily Evans had accidentally laughed at one of his jokes but she also could’ve been coughing, he couldn’t tell. He also had hexed Snape so good in the hallway that even McGonagall had said it was a well-executed spell even if she had given him detention for two weeks solid. He still went on walks with Remus and sometimes, a certain time every month, they would change and run in the moonlight and James could feel his heart pumping so hard and he couldn’t imagine anyone feeling as alive as he felt.

He was sixteen and this was going to be the year Lily Evans finally figured out she was in love with him, Sirius, so fuck off and don’t stare at her. DON’T, SIRIUS!

He was sixteen and ha! told you he was going to be captain, told you! He was good at drinking firewhiskey and butterbeer and he wasn’t scrawny anymore, not really and sure, fine, Sirius was taller but if he didn’t shave for a few days, he had stubble but he preferred shaving, thanks. Boobs? Sure, he’d touched plenty of boobs, why are you making such a big deal about it? Grow up, Peter, everybody touches boobs and at this rate you’re never going to because you keep talking about it. He didn’t mind being alone so much anymore, not really, and his palms didn’t get sweaty when he saw a pretty girl or talked to her or kissed her or anything else, at least not that sweaty. Not even around Evans, not really. He’d gotten pretty good at flirting now, too—it was basically just making jokes and teasing people but without hexing them and smiling a lot instead. He liked flirting with Professor McGonagall because she got all red in the face and would threaten detention but she rarely followed through because he was a captain now. Once, though, he’d called her “love” and that had gotten him detention every night for a month and even though he said it had mostly been worth it at the time, it wasn’t really. He noticed more boys looking at Lily Evans and he would kill them with his bare hands, fuck magic, he’d just have to kill them. Especially that seventh year Hufflepuff boy who was only two inches taller than him, Remus, he’s not that tall!

He was sixteen and he was kissing girls all the time because he liked it and they liked it and what was wrong with that? He was sitting with girls by the lake or following them around the library or leaning toward them across the tables in the Great Hall or in the common room or in empty classrooms and it was all in good fun because he was captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team and his marks were alright and he’d gotten pretty swell at kissing, thanks. Sure, none of them were Evans but Evans wasn’t kissing anyone, so what? Who cares what Evans is doing anyway?

He was sixteen and he didn’t like the way some of the Slytherins looked at his friends.