#realizing you unintentionally hurt someone when you were both kids and they still remember it while you don't

[faksyan]

Season one arcane finale: Vi's actions and words that she thought insignificant at the time are part of what shaped Jinx into a violent, hurt person she is, and while it wasn't her intention or fault, Jinx feels like it was, and they both have to continue to live with that knowledge.

Season two:

[starrspice]

Okay since ya offered…

Are sun and moon the same animatronics?? I assume not from the art. Does sun help moony with the trauma he undoubtably has? How did he react to knowing what he did when infected? Did he ever hurt sun while infected, or was it only the kids? I imagine poor soft Moony has to deal with parents getting mad at him for what he did, that must really hurt… to see them get angry with him and act like he’s going to hurt people :(

That is ALOT of questions. All very very very good (and a few I'll have to sit down and draw out because DANG those need visuals)

So I'll start with a verbal answer and give you some art for it later!!!

A long ask means a long answer. SO sorry for the wall of text

So 1. Are sun and moon the same animatronic?

YES. They are in fact the same animatronic. A lot of people don't realize this but when they write/draw Sun and Moon as sharing a headspace and being aware of whats going on when the other is fronting is that its all very DID coded (disassociative identity disorder AKA multiple personalities). I actually have a friend with this disorder and they have 6 VERY different personalities in their head and after having countless in depth conversations about their headspace and shared body I feel like thats very much the way Sun and Moon operate. So there's always one of them fronting and controlling the body, but its also like in their own mind they have their own space as two separate beings and can mentally interact as if they were face to face. So the drawing you're referring to where they're hugging is a private coveraation in their headspace!!! They have a lot of these!

2. Does Sun help Moon with the trauma?

YES as best as he can. He absolutely is facing a similar kind of trauma,knowing that the other person in his body, his other half HURT people. And he couldn't do anything to stop it. Not to mention he has come out once or twice in the aftermath and seen the blood on his hands. So when Moon eventually remembers I feel like they'd both kind of understand that that wasnt REALLY Moon and it wasn't Sun but it was still THEM who did it. They'd both struggle to really feel ok or even talk about it, but it would definitely be a comfort knowing that they have someone who can understand them, especially the one person who's ALWAYS understood them. It definitely involves a lot of long deep talks and Sun getting used to the lights being allowed to be turned off again.

3. How did he react when he realized what he did while infected?

A lot of people see ONE of the drawing pages I made of soft moon but often miss the first where i kind of touch on this. But for the sake of the ask I'll put that cropped snippet here

Basically Moon has a full on panic attack the moment he realizes what he did. The biggest reason being that he realizes that if he killed adults he could've just as easily killed one of the kids, and that thought scares him more than anything. Moon LOVES the kids and the very idea that they were in danger just by being around HIM hurts him so much.

4. Did he ever hurt sun or was it only the kids?

In my particular version yes, albeit unintentionally. Moon was battling the virus, and while infected would struggle with self hatred. He's made to protect kids, he loves the kids, but he's hurt them (mostly psychologically) so he'd probably have some kind of internal struggle where he claws at his face plate trying to get the "other him" (the virus) out. Inadvertently hurting sun in the process.

As for the kids none of them were ever severely injured, not even bruising. The one time Moon ever came close to hurting them is when the virus caused him to grip a child's wrist a little too tightly (but as soon as they said it hurt he immediately let go)

5. Moon having to deal with upset parents

I feel as though Moon would want to deal with the parents actually. To get scolded or cursed at or whatever nasty things the parents might say,because in his mind he deserves it. In his mind he turned into a monster and even though he's better now he can't change what he did. BUT. Until Moon has been returned to work for a decent amount of time with absolutely NO incidents, management wouldn't let the parents anywhere near Moon.

Actually he'd likely feel most upset by the staff being afraid of him. Aside from his patrols he doesn't get a lot of interaction, and people were already wary of him and Sun, so he'd definitely feel down in the dumps about being avoided by the human workers

But i think that covers everything in your ask!!!! VERY good questions indeed!! And i hope that gave you some nice insight into my Sun and Moon!!!

[mysticalrambling]

Ending It All Part 2 (C.E)

A/N: Here you go guys. Much awaited part 2 is here. I am so in love with this particular fan fiction and hope you guys like it. If you want me to write any blurbs related to this series, do let me know.I am open to requests.

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Part 1 

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Chris regrets divorcing you and he tries to mend the relationship. However, you have already moved on with Tom Hiddleston and are quite happy. He has to just stand back while you and your children become closer to Tom and it is all his fault.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

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“Coming in?” Chris turned his face towards you with a questioning look in his eyes.

“No, I have some work. Just wanted to drop the kids off myself.” Your ex husband’s house was on your way so you just saved him a trip.

“Not even for coffee, darling?”

“Sorry but I will have to say no.” You still got flustered when he called you with nicknames. You had once decided to tell him to stop calling you with all these terms of endearment but you couldn’t build up the courage to do it.

It has been over a year since your divorce and the moment you think you are over him, he is right there to bring those feelings back. You were a mess when he moved out and you had to see him on the weekends for the kids. It looked like you were drowning and you couldn’t come up for fresh air. It was exhausting but after several months, it didn’t hurt that much. It didn’t feel like your heart was tearing into shreds. You felt numb but that was better than feeling like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

“That’s fine. See you Sunday?”

These were the only few sentences that were spoken between the two of you since the divorce. This was your new normal and you were starting to adjust to it. “Yeah, bye.”

“Who wants pancakes?” Sighing, he turned around and asked in a fake, cheerful voice. He didn’t get to be disappointed. These were the the seeds that he sow and he had to reap the results.

“I do.” A collective chorus came from the living room as they had already started to play with Dodger. Dodger was adopted from a shelter home about two weeks into the divorce. Loneliness was a destructive force and Chris hadn’t come to that realization until he was sitting in his home at eight, all alone. No laughter, no mess, no companionship. He went out that day and got a new dog. The apartment was eating him alive because it was a reminder of his ‘new life’. More like his ruined life.

“Daddy, you goin’ to be there for my match?” Jace looked up at his father and hoped that he wasn’t going to say no. There have been too many occasions this past year where he was not there for his children like Easter or Mia’s first day of school. He was either too busy with his career or he couldn’t bear to be with his family knowing that he wouldn’t be going home with them. He wasn’t strong enough to handle that truth.

“I’ll be there but I have work afterwards so I can only be there for half time.” The apologetic tone was all too familiar to the kids now so they just stayed quiet.

Chris noticed their disappointed look and continued, “When I get back, we’ll go to Disneyland for the whole weekend.”

“Mommy and Tommy will be going as well?”

Stopping in between making the pancakes, he asked with a venom laced tone, “Tommy who, Jace?”

“Mommy’s new friend. We like him.” Your son continued petting the dog without realizing the damage he is doing to his father. “New friend” was always a code for boyfriend and Chris didn’t know what to do with that information.

He knew that you had gone on a few dates with Tom Hiddleston because of the paparazzi. But he didn’t know that you both were serious. Your kids knew about him so it was pretty damn serious.

“He won’t be going with us.” Speaking with finality, he resumed cooking. You were his and that was not going to change. He knew he was being unfair but when it came to you, he lost all rationality.

“But he is our new dad.” Mia whined from her place and Chris just looked at her with a wounded look. His babygirl was putting someone else in his place.

His voice boomed throughout the house and both the kids looked at him with tears in their widened eyes, “I’m your only dad. Don’t you ever say that.”

“‘m sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you mad.” Her chin wobbled and Chris was quick to realize his mistake. It was not your children’s fault. It was not your fault. It was his fault.

“Not your fault, baby. But you only have one daddy and that’s me.” Kissing her forehead, he wiped the single tear that managed to escape her blue eyes.

“’kay.” The kids got distracted again but Chris did not forget. He was still seething from the inside because Tom may have taken you away from him but he damn well couldn’t take his children.

They all get ice cream afterwards and the kids fall asleep in their rooms that Chris built from scratch. It was a lengthy process because he just kept remembering the times when he decorated their nursery with you. Such a beautiful memory and he was ruining it. The guilt ate him up inside when he realized that he may not get to ever decorate a nursery for your children again. He may not get to expand his family with you again. Again, it was his fault.

“Sorry, ‘m late. Work was hectic today.” Everything was so busy today because your boss signed up a new contract and he has been impossible to work with. You just wanted to go home and sleep for the whole week.

“It’s okay. They’re sleepin’ upstairs. Listen, we need to talk.” He was too consumed by anger and hurt to notice that you were too exhausted for everything.

“Go on.” You urged him, figuring that he might say that he won’t be able to make it to your son’s match. This was what most of your conversations were based on; him saying that he is too busy to be present at occasions related to your children.

“Why are my children referring to your boyfriend as dad?” He nothing but spat that sentence.

“I- I didn’t know about any of this. I’ll talk to them.” Stuttering, you tried to mediate the situation but nothing seemed to get through to him at the moment.

“No need. I already did that but for next time, keep your boyfriends away from my children.”

“Our children and I don’t let anyone near my children. We are serious.” You were offended by his crude tone and you weren’t just going to let him walk all over you.

“You can’t be serious with him. As a matter of fact, you can’t be serious with anyone.” Your ex husband declared it like it was a law. He didn’t know how to react to what you said. All the pain was converted into anger because that was his current form of expression.

“Are you serious?” This was all too much for you to handle. How could he say that?

“Yes. You only belong with me. I regret it so much (Y/N).” Chris’s expressions told you where he was going.

“Oh, stop. You can’t just do that. Can’t come bargin’ in my life and mess it all up again. I am happy.”

Chris reached out his hand but you took a step back. He was not allowed to touch you anymore. “I was mistaken. My career is not above you, darlin’. Never was.”

“You made me feel worthless. You made me feel as if I was the reason our marriage ended. Won’t allow myself to get sucked back into this relationship.”

“I know I broke our family. I tore us apart and didn’t even apologize for it properly. I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” There was a stream of tears running down his face and you wanted to wipe them away but you resisted.

There were still times when you wished that you were still happily married to Chris. That you still had your perfect, little family. The divorce made you feel worthless and lonely. There were times when you couldn’t even look at your children because they were the exact replica of your ex husband. You once adored the fact that they were his carbon copy. However, now you couldn’t help but get angry. How could he leave little pieces of himself behind and think that you could move on with your life.

It was all because you were with another man. He never said all these things when you were alone and you suffered from depression. There were days when you couldn’t get out of bed to get your kids ready for school. You knew that Jace had informed him because he was really worried about you and he always shared his troubling thoughts with Chris. But he didn’t do anything about it. He stayed quiet and you had to pull all the pieces back together yourself. It was all tape and glue. Your ex husband didn’t get to come back and dismantle your progress. You wouldn’t let him.

“You can’t do this. Can’t come back. I am with Tom now so stop trying to fix things that you already broke.” Your face was red with anger and all the energy was drained out of your body.

“Please, just give me a chance.”

“No!” You couldn’t choose Chris again. You had to choose yourself. You chose to think about your needs and your feelings for the first time in seven years. That’s why you agreed to go on a date with Tom. He surpassed your expectations the first time and you knew that he could be your partner. No one could compare to Chris but Tom made his own place in your heart and you were glad about it. You continued on, “Tom is good for me so please don’t ruin my happiness again.”

Tom was great. He was good with the kids and he was slowly becoming an integral part of your life. You still missed Chris because that man was the love of your life for seven years and those feelings can’t just disappear with a single piece of paper. You were glad to have Tom in your life and you knew that as time would pass, you will love him with your whole heart. However, a small part of you would never forget Chris and would always wonder about the what ifs. What if you were still together? What if you had more children? What it you got to grow old together? Broken dreams are what hurts the most.

“I don’t want to be a cause of that. Not again. But I want to make things right.” He unintentionally came closer to you, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Sorry I wasn’t there for our kids. Sorry that I broke you, baby.”

“A sorry doesn’t fix anything.” His chest was hallowing from inside out but he didn’t want to back down. Not now. Not ever.

“Just answer one question for me. Are you truly happy?” A tremble was prominent in his voice but you tried to ignore it.

“I-I am. For a long time, I wasn’t but I am now.” You spoke with such conviction that he knew you were over him.

You would always love Chris but now it was time for you to move on with your life. It was time to leave the past and delve into the future. Chris would always own a piece of your heart but you are going to allow Tom to have an opportunity as well. You will open your heart again to love. You were sure now.

“Okay. I will get the kids for you.” He backed off like he promised he would. You knew at that moment that it was all over.

Watching you drive away with his kids was heart breaking for him and he just watched helplessly. Chris still wanted to cry, beg and apologize. He wanted you to take him back but it was all his fault. He ruined you once, he couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t interrupt your new life. It doesn’t all revolve around him but he was okay to remain on the sidelines while you enjoy your life. He will be there for you if you needed him.

You are happy and that should be enough for him but he wants to be selfish again. He wants to fight for you but it’s all too late. You were with someone else. He lost his chance.

Wednesday rolled in pretty quickly and Chris dreaded going to the match. You were going to be there with your new boyfriend but he didn’t want to miss his son’s game. He could only be there till half time already so it wouldn’t be that awkward.

“I just wanted to be here for Jace. Won’t cause any problems.” Chris took a seat beside Mia when he saw you shifting uncomfortably. The seat that should have belonged to him was currently being occupied by your boyfriend but Chris just bottled up all his feelings. It was not right to still think of you as his wife.

“It’s okay. Let’s just forget about everything.” You wanted to move on and did not want anything to hold you back.

“Okay. Mia, you want Kit Kat?” Offering her a large chocolate bar, he started talking with his daughter so that he could distract himself from you and Tom.

“What is happening, love?” Tom questioned when he saw that his former co-star did not even glance at him properly.

Chris and Tom were not the best of buds but they were still good acquaintances. He thought that dating you wouldn’t be a problem because Scarlett had informed him that Chris was the one who asked for divorce. However, this situation made him realize that Chris was jealous. He still had feelings for you and Tom didn’t know how to react to that.

“Nothing of importance. Let’s just focus on my baby boy.” Saying that, you cheered for Jace as he made his first goal. He was an exceptional player like his father and you knew that he would pursue football as his career. Jace was really passionate about football. If Chris didn’t become an actor then he would have definitely tried out for football.

There were times when he used to take you to the park so you would play with him. It was your thing. Maybe he had replaced you with someone by now as well but what you didn’t know was that Chris had stopped playing football altogether. Like many things in his life, it reminded him of you and it was just too much to bear.

“You are doing great, buddy.”Jace immediately asked Chris to pick him up as you gave him his Captain America water bottle. It was half time and Chris had to leave for shooting. He was getting late but he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Thank you, mommy. Ollie doesn’t listen to me that much so coach is angry at him.” Babbling on, he rested his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Okay, buddy. I have to leave now but I will call you when your game is finished.”

“Won’t be going with us to Chick-fil-A?”

“Uhh-” He cluelessly glanced at you because he didn’t know what his son was talking about.

“I wanted to give him a treat after the match.” Tom butted into the conversation to prove that he was a part of the kid’s lives as well.

Chris could have actually made it to the restaurant because he would be free in an hour tops. However, he decided against it. He had to take a step back for you. Of course, he would be there for his children but Tom should be given a fair chance as well.

“I won’t be able to make it buddy. You enjoy with Mommy and Tom. I’ll take you and Mia to Disneyland this weekend as I promised.”

“Okay, daddy. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” Giving him to you, he turned to leave. It was hard for him to do this but it had to be done. Chris wiped his eyes discreetly as he saw you all laughing together. This was his fault and he would have to bear the consequences.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

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A/N: This story had me in tears from the very start. I cried when I was writing it. Again, I am open to blurbs for this series and other requests. Tell me if you want to be added to my tag list.

Tag list: @peculiarpenman, @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet, @caanyoonmoon, @coldmuffinpartycloud, @marvelfansworld, @agnesk, @lauracontisstuff, @deepintothenature, @xcaptain-winterx, @nostxlgia18, @sophiaedits , @luckyladycreator2, @mrspeacem1nusone

Like, comment and reblog.

P.S. If you want blurbs and epilogue related to this series, please send in requests. I will need some ideas.

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[chuuyrr]

I had this mind like as little kids right? Our parents aren't always available sometimes even neglecting us sadly ;(( can we please get a crying baby reader whos feeling neglected everytime she asks dad gojo to spend time and play with her or even notice her little achievements???

Love your writing sm!!! Congratulations on the 1k, u deserve so much, love ❤

scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader being neglected by dad! gojo

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series

warning(s): angst & sad, dad! gojo ignoring and raising his voice at his little kikufuku >:/, emotional damage & breakdown for scarlet bb fushiguro

aaaa thank you so much anon :D ngl, i've honestly had the same thought back when i was little (sometimes even until now as a 17 year old i still have these thoughts) this was honestly heartbreaking to write and i may or may not have incorporated my experience in this bit, specifically how it felt. also im not sure if i can say happy/enjoy reading because i cried writing this at 2am while listening to sports by beach bunny <\3

(p.s. requests are open :D + angst and sad aren't really my strengths, so i hope this one suffices to hit you in the feels!! depsite being painful to write, i do think it's a good practice for me on the brighter side since i tend to write crack-ish and softer themes more)

being a jujutsu sorcerer, teacher and a father at the same time was a complex task, even for someone like gojo. work and parenting tend to overlap at times because of it. though it isn't gojo's intention to ignore you, it was just inevitable. having a mind of a child, you didn't understand the exact reason why your dad barely had the time for you and why he was ignoring you.

gojo's one day work turned into days, then into weeks. he was just so caught up in a long of things that he started to neglect you whenever you'd ask for something as simple as spending time with him. it gradually messed with you, both emotionally and mentally. what's even worse was when he comes home, he was either too tired and busy to acknowledge you. no matter what you did, nothing seemed to work. finally, unintentionally raising his voice at you became your last straw.

"dad! i missed you can we go play?"

"not, now [name]. i can't play."

"well, can you at least che—

"i said i can't, [name]!"

the tears that gathered in the brim of your eyes spilled. with quivering lips and an aching heart, you immediately disappeared from gojo's sight and ran. the overwhelming emotions resonating from your chest, you didn't realize that you had ran away from home. everything was just like a blurry tunnel vision, all you could hear was gojo's words neglecting you as your legs carried you to who knows where.

it hurt how gojo wouldn't invest time to hang out with you, play with you or let alone notice your little achievements. it was just unfair at how important his work and missions were more than you. your heart felt like it was being tore down to pieces as your breathing hitched uncontrollably.

night came and it was only then when gojo remembered that he accidentally raised his voice at you. his first initial thoughts was to talk to you and apologize. assuming you were in your room, he went there but when he entered it was empty. you were nowhere to be found. gojo immediately left and bolted around the house, calling for your name but to no avail, there was no response and your presence was nowhere to be seen or felt.

remorse rose from gojo's throat as he realized why you ran away. gojo was so caught up in his work and missions that he failed to give his little kikufuku any attention and failed to care for you as your dad.

the sky darkened further until midnight came, gojo still couldn't find you. he was beginning to lose hope when he felt a familiar energy radiate in the atmosphere, it was your chaos magic. oh no. if it's one thing about your powers, they were linked with your emotions. it didn't take long for the energy to gradually increase.

finally sensing your energy, gojo was able to locate you in a secluded area and when he did, he found you curled up into a ball, crying everything with puffy red eyes. completely vulnerable; your tiny form trembling with each hitch of your unsteady breathing and sniffles. a red glow was beginning to leak from your eyes along with fresh hot tears and hands at each second.

sauntering towards you, gojo knelt down in front of you in order to reach out for you, but his infinity spiked when your psionics subconsciously burned and surrounded you protectively. it was as if you had put up a wall around you.

"kikufuku?"

it's been a long while since he had called you that nickname. you had almost forgotten that he was referring to you, finally acknowledging you.

"let's go home, baby."

gojo's words repeated like a mantra, beckoning you to his embrace with comfort. you wanted to give in but memories of him neglecting you and his words telling you to leave him alone burned your mind.

"i'm sorry, i'm really sorry. i'll be better."

your emotions seemed to have calmed down when you heard that. the immense energy coming from you slowly died down unril it had fully subsided. once you had broke down the walls you had put, the barrier, gojo picked you up and held you close to him without his infinity this time, and muttered apologies endlessly. letting your guard down in his warm embrace, you had fallen asleep, exhausted.

though it wasn't his intentions, never gojo's intentions—he was still responsible for everything, for you. gojo cradled you in his arms, holding you close to his heartbeat and felt the weight of his mistake on his shoulders, completely guilty when he saw your tear stained face. he fucked up real bad.

[lunarspiral1127]

So, it's been a while since I talked about MCU stuff, but the Multiverse of Madness trailer came out and I gotta talk about this one line.

"You break the rules, and become a hero. I do it, I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair."

Ho boy. See, I can tell that this is gonna piss off some people, and I can see why. However, I haven't watched Spider-Man: No Way Home yet (I might so that I can do a commentary/review here when it comes out digitally), but I'm aware that Strange unintentionally messed with the multiverse when casting that memory altering spell. So, people who'll defend Wanda will bring that up. However, we should probably compare the time they both brought back someone back to life. And, we're not counting Strange Supreme since that's an alternate version, just the main MCU versions.

So, in the Doctor Strange movie, he resurrected Wong with the Time stone. Not just Wong, but many innocent people who were killed in Hong Kong. He did it to save them and proceeded to get Dormammu and the Dark Dimension to leave Earth. There were consequences, however, like losing whatever partnership he had with Mordo because he and the Ancient One used magic to break the rules and Mordo believed how dangerous and risky it was. Strange isn't a selfless person, but he did it to save Wong and the people and Earth.

Now, Wanda. She did bring back Vision because of how overwhelmed she was with grief, but she didn't realized she casted the Hex. She was so happy to have Vision back though, but the people in Westview had to suffer because of it. They were held hostage and forced to play characters from tv shows, breaking out of character every now and then. Some were frozen, some couldn't leave their rooms, some even forgot who they originally were. They were kept away from their actual families and friends, and they felt Wanda's pain and grief that it was affecting them mentally and emotionally to the point where one of them even begged for Wanda to kill them. And, when Wanda started to remember or recall what she did, she still wanted to keep this reality going if it means having Vision and her kids. It just took Agatha Harkness confronting Wanda to finally undo everything and free the people.

So, if we're just comparing those scenarios, they are much different in terms of consequences and their actions. The difference is one revived someone and other people because he wanted to save them and Earth, and the other created a version of someone without realizing at first, but ended up hurting others in the process. Both aren't selfless, but one came up as the hero in their story.

[alrightberries]

our sorry little hearts

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x fem!reader

❈ genre: angst. ❈ word count: 1.6k

❈ summary: Levi hasn’t seen your traitorous Eldian face in years.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. war. mentions of blood, death, and violence.

a/n: you’ve heard of enemies to lovers, now get ready for... lovers to enemies. this takes place during the liberio invasion aka S4 E6. based on a love like war by all time low.

(also don’t tell anyone but this is me lowkey warming up after not writing for so long)

There’s something oddly nostalgic about seeing you again on the battlefield.

Levi recognizes your usual battle stance; feet a shoulder’s width apart and hands tightly clutching the handles of your sheathed blades. You’re wearing the scouting regiment’s outdated white uniform, green cape hiding the leather straps your missing brown jacket usually would. He’s not surprised you’re not wearing your wings of freedom jacket, though; he was, after all, the one who sliced it in half during your escape with Zeke on the Cart Titan’s back. He hasn’t seen it, but he’s positive that a long scar runs down the length of your spine.

“Levi,” he hears you murmur, and he pretends that his heart doesn’t ache after hearing his name slip from your lips for the first time in four years. “I—... Levi,”

He feels his chest tighten. You still look as beautiful as he remembers you to be, and the fact that you still take his breath away is something he hates. It’s been a long while since he last stood on a battlefield with you. Only this time, there were no trees to swing from or titans to kill; no reassuring squeezes on the shoulder or cheeky kisses when no one was looking; no small smiles or stolen glances across the field as your horses galloped through Titan Country. No— this time, you wore different colors and fought on opposing sides.

“Levi, talk to me,” your tone is airy, said in what seemed to be a mixture of built up anticipation and disbelief. But there was something in your voice— something he couldn’t quite place. Was it relief? Longing, perhaps? Maybe even regret. But Levi pushes those thoughts aside in favor of gritting his teeth and giving his traitorous wife a stone cold stare. “Levi, talk to me, please.”

He refuses to reply. His hands are shaking from how hard he was gripping the handles of his blades, and he swears his heart was going to burst out of his untrimmed chest from how loudly it beat at his ribcage. There are about a million and one emotions swirling around his head— betrayal. anger. sadness. melancholy.

And he doesn’t know which one takes over him when he charges at you full speed.

There’s a grunt followed by the sound of metal clashing against metal, and Levi’s not surprised to see that your reflexes are still as sharp as they were before. His own cape whips in the wind when he turns to land another strike. But then he hears sound of your hooks digging into bricks, and he’s quick to take your little fight to the air in pursuit of you.

He knows he has to be at the plaza to save Eren’s ass but he also knows that he had at least seven minutes before he had to go. He’ll make this quick.

“Levi,” he hears you call out. You’ve led him further away from the plaza— maybe intentionally or unintentionally, he doesn’t know— and he’s only now realizing that you both stood on the side of a building, the hooks on your gears the only thing keeping you up. “My love—-”

“—don’t call me that,” his heart twitches and he sneers. It’s the first thing he’s said to you in years and god did you miss his voice, miss him in general. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that,”

“Levi,” you breathe, but the deep growl that escapes his lips is enough for your words to die in your throat.

“Stop,” he says. “You’ve lost the right to speak my name; you’ve lost the right to wear that cape,” his eyes land on the silver chain you wore around your neck, a gold ring hanging in the middle. It matched the one he had back home, the one he secretly held at night and kissed sorrowfully when he felt like breaking down. His voice is quieter, almost pained as he speaks, “you’ve lost the right to wear that ring. You’ve lost the right to even look me in the eye after what you’ve done.”

His words sting and your throat tightens when you once again remember the look of pure and utter betrayal in his eyes when you confessed you were a spy on behalf of the Marleyan government. The way he froze, hoping you were lying; yet the tears running down your cheeks and the apologies that slipped from your lips as you got down on your knees and begged him for forgiveness left no room for contest.

“Levi, we don’t have to fight, please just hear me out. I’m still the wife you loved—-“

“No,” he cuts you off. “My wife is gone. She died in the battle for Shiganshina.” your lip quivers, and he continues to speak. “You? You’re an enemy. You’re as good as dead to me.”

Your words once again die on your tongue when he charges at you, and you just barely manage to leap away. The edge of his blade scrapes against your thigh, and blood paints your trousers red when your feet land on the cobblestone streets.

Every attempt you make after, any attempts at conversation is silenced with a swift swing of Levi’s blades, almost as if he were seeking catharsis through violence.

You grit your teeth. “You’re never going to listen to me, are you?”

His silence and steely glare is all the answer you need, and you sigh. Your stance shifts, and the grip on your blades changes; you were finally taking an offensive stance, Levi notices. Blocking his blows wouldn’t be enough— you couldn’t reason with him no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t win with just defense. You had to outsmart him; you had to win. You had to.

“I’m sorry, levi, but losing isn’t an option for me. Not this time,” you murmur.

You didn’t want to fight him, he could see it in your eyes. But you were fighting for something, for someone more important than him. Your eyes— the first things he fell in love with, the ones that were usually fiery and full of life— are soulless, almost solemn when he sees you run at him full speed, and Levi pushes down the hurt he felt at the thought of you loving another as he charges at you too.

A tear silently falls down your cheek. You loved levi, but you loved him more. You were fighting for him, and he was waiting for you back at home.

There’s a grey little building in the Liberio Intermittent Zone, somewhere between the gates and the plaza. The gunshots and explosions just barely reach the drab building, and the smoke rising into the air is the only thing visible to the naked eye of the chaos unfolding at the plaza.

A Marleyan soldier, donned in white and war medals, stands in front of an open window. She’s got binoculars in her hands, and she peeks through the eye piece to watch as two figures fight. Their capes create shadows of black where they flutter, and their silver blades gleam in the moonlight.

She smirks. Your negotiation failed, just like she said it would, and now you had no choice but to fight to the death.

Good, she thinks, that Eldian scum’s doing her end of the bargain.

She leans back and a satisfied hum leaves her lips. She turns to look at the little boy, no more than four years old, sat on the bed. The red Eldian arm band clasped around his arm brings a grimace to the soldier’s face. She can’t believe she got stuck with babysitting some lowlife scum.

“Is mommy doing well?” he asks timidly. He doesn’t even know that you were out there about to murder a man, but the kid was smart; he at least knew your job carried a heavy weight.

“For now,” she replies. The boy’s jet black hair bounces slightly as he nods, and his slanted eyes are downcast, staring at the floor. His silvery grey orbs dare not make contact with hers.

The boy looked almost nothing like you— if anything, she was sure he looked to be the spitting image of his unknown father. Strong genes, the father must’ve had.

She finds amusement in how tense the boy was around her; at least his whore of a mother had the decency to teach the kid his place in the world. He was worse than an Eldian, the lowest of the low— he was half Paradis demon. He should’ve never been born. They should’ve beaten you to death along with your unborn child like she’d suggested when you came back from Paradis knocked up.

“You can kill me, but spare my baby, please.” she remembers you begging. “I didn’t even know i was pregnant. Not even the father knows.”

Still, maybe it was a good choice to keep both you and the demon child alive. As much as she hated to admit it, you were a skilled soldier— one of the best they’ve ever had. Threatening your life meant nothing to you, but threatening your child’s? All they had to do was suggest it, and you’d follow their commands like an obedient dog chasing after a dangling treat.

“When’s mommy going to come home?” the boy suddenly asks.

“Soon,” she replies, eyes once again gazing through her binoculars. “If your mother does her job well, she’ll be back soon.” There’s a telephone beside the soldier, ready to make the call should you ever stop fighting. A sniper awaits her signal.

“If she doesn’t... well,” she laughs. The door to the small room you called home is locked, and the loaded gun hidden in the soldier’s pocket is a weight she’s familiar with. “Do you believe in god?”

“No,” the boy shakes his head. “Who’s that?”

“Tell you what, kid. if your mother fucks this up, i’ll personally see to it that you meet him soon enough.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[paralleledmediaexperience]

right before my birthday back in May someone made a post about Jack needing more love and hugs, and I had this idea in the tags and then went and wrote about a thousand words of this and then. forgot it existed!! anyway I’ve mostly polished it up now. enjoy Jack telling one of his dads he loves him and then not only being hugged but also hearing it back!! it’s what our boy deserves!!!!!

Now with part two!!!!!

-

Jack hadn’t meant to fix everything, in his defense. Yes, they’d defeated god with his powers, which had unintentionally released Amara, who had agreed to take her brother’s powers from Jack and then let the world mostly be as long as she got the chance to see him every once in a while. She’d returned the universe to normal, with a few additions for their happiness, as Amara had said. Dean had choked out Cas’ name, and Amara had frowned before replying that it might take a bit more time. 

They had gone back to the bunker and then the bunker had been thoroughly overrun the whole next week by- it seemed- everyone the Winchesters knew, including a few faces who were apparently as back from the dead by Amara’s hand as Mary was last time she owed a Winchester a favor. Through it all- old friends and odd allies and more- Jack knows Dean isn’t doing well. Isn’t sleeping well. There’s only been one night- well, Jack hadn’t seen Dean drinking but he’d heard Sam’s arguing and Dean’s short, choppy answers, and it was familiar enough.

He’d googled “what to do when my dad misses someone and we can’t talk to them yet,” and wikihow had good suggestions- he’d read through the sections for both short-term separations, and managing the death of a loved one. He hadn’t really been able to figure out which would be more helpful. It had turned out to be the death of a loved one, which… shouldn’t be surprising, no matter that Cas would be back. Soon. 

He couldn’t make Dean do any of the things on the list, but it had suggested that the person would like to feel loved during their time of grieving.

And when he’d searched “how to make someone feel loved,” the first article had said the easiest way was simply to tell them. So when Dean hands him a plate of pancakes with the bacon cooked just how Jack likes it, Jack thinks it’s such a small thing to make his heart feel so big and warm. And he smiles and says, “Thanks Dean. I love you.”

Unfortunately, Jack hasn’t actually grabbed the plate when he says this, and Dean’s hands drop it. The sound of the plate shattering on the tile is only half as upsetting as the wounded look in Dean’s eyes as he looks back at Jack. And Jack isn’t sure why it went so wrong but he looks away immediately, the shame of causing that hurt somehow and the slow horror of realizing he’d ruined the breakfast that Dean had made him turning his stomach into knots. He steps back almost unconsciously before remembering the plate had just broken, and in just his socks, a piece of ceramic jabs into his heel and slices him open, and he actually can’t help the small cry of surprise and pain that slips out.

“Jeez, kid,” Dean breathes out, and Jack gets pushed into the nearest chair. “Get that out of your foot while I clean this up.”

The warm feeling in his chest was gone, pressed into something cold and tight in Jack’s throat. He’d just- the article had said it makes people happy to hear they are loved in times of grief. 

He watches, silent as Dean turns off the stove and sweeps up the wasted food and plate pieces, soundly dumping it in the trash before digging under the sink for a second and coming out with a clean dishrag and a box of bandaids. It’s only when he sees Dean stop and take a quiet, private shuddering breath to forcibly relax his tensed shoulders that he lowers his gaze again. He picks the sharp sliver of plate out of his skin through the sock before peeling it off to examine the cut it left. Very shallow, but it still stretches two inches along on the inside of his heel, the blood sluggishly dripping out. 

It’s not bad, but very inconvenient, so he almost heals it before remembering that Amara had said not to use his powers after she took Chuck’s powers. Not until she returned and okayed it, at least. He sighs, pinching it together with his fingers, half heartedly wishing it had been more awkward and antagonistic between his aunt and his dads, so he could have maybe convinced Dean that they shouldn’t listen to what Amara told him to do. It probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.

He hears Dean turn the water on to damp the cloth, but he can’t make himself look back up again. His gaze goes back down to the floor as Dean starts to turn back toward him, focusing on the small smear of red on the floor, where Dean had dragged the broom through the spots of blood he’d left.

He raises his hands as Dean approaches, ready to be handed the stuff to bandage himself up, but Dean just beats them away as he sits down next to Jack, hunching in as he grabs the injured foot. Jack still feels unbearably small in the silence between them, both him and Dean leaning in and feeling small and unwilling to speak as he wipes away the blood and then dries the skin around it. Jack grabs two of the bandaids and opens them, and Dean wraps them around the cut before patting it and drawing away, and Jack doesn’t know what else to do.

“Sorry,” He says softly, because he isn’t sure what he did wrong but it hurt Dean. And he wasn’t even angry, Jack could tell, cause his shoulders hadn’t tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to lash out- they’d tensed the way they did when Dean was trying not to fall apart. Jack’s felt like he had to know the difference for a while now.

“Jack,” Dean says, and it’s so sharp that Jack jerks up to look at him. Had he read that wrong? Was Dean angry? But when he meets Dean’s eyes it’s still that hurting, the one that Jack could remember all the way from back when he was a newborn, or something close to it. “No, you don’t-” Dean lifted a hand to his face and dragged it down with a rough breath, and Jack wasn’t expecting him to look back at him but he did, eyes burning into Jack’s. “You don’t have to be sorry. That was on me- I dropped the plate.”

Jack tries not to squirm, because it’s not about the plate, is it? The food had been thrown away and the plate had hurt him, but he’d said he loved Dean and that had made him drop it. “I’m sorry that I-”

“Jack,” Dean cuts across again, and this time his brows are drawing together the way they do when he’s angry. But he looks away from Jack again, and he can tell somehow that it’s not anger at him. Dean doesn’t even want Jack to be looking at this anger. “You say whatever you want, okay? I’m not upset that you said it.”

It isn't that he thinks Dean doesn’t mean the words, but Jack’s also not sure Dean believes them either. “I am, though,” he says, petulant, crossing his arms and letting his foot fall back down to the ground, ignoring the bite of pain from treating the cut so roughly. “If it hurt you, I shouldn’t have-”

Dean cuts him off again. “No. Jack, that’s-” He struggles for a second, but Jack just wants to understand. Unbidden, he holds his breath and Dean draws his in, trying to find the words.

“You get to love me if you want to,” Dean grinds out, and Jack realizes there are tears gathering along his lower lashes. “And you get to tell me if you want to. This hurt ain’t about you.”

That does clear it up, somehow, and Jack nods and looks back down at his hands, realizing there’s still blood on his fingers, too. Dean turns away enough that they can almost pretend he’s not rubbing the tears out of his eyes. “I won’t say it if you don’t want me to either, though,” he says, and he grabs the cloth from the table where Dean had left it, finding a clean spot on the damp corner and using it.

“That ain’t how it works, kid.” He doesn’t elaborate. He just grabs the box of bandaids and closes it before gathering up the paper wrapping. It gets thrown out, and the box stowed back under the sink, and then Jack is just staring at Dean.

“How does it work?” 

They both stop. Jack didn’t expect to actually let the question out, but it’s off of his lips before he can seal them. 

Dean is frozen, staring at him.

“Not like that,” Dean says eventually, weariness dripping from each word. “Jack, do you… do you want us to say…”

He doesn’t say it, the kitchen fan blowing white noise into the quiet air between them. Jack knows that he could ask and Dean would say it right now. Dean always gives the people he loves what they want, what they need, and this would just be the next thing he could offer. Something he could give.

“I don’t need you to.” Jack says, honestly. “I know. I just wanted you to hear it, because I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to say it to you.”

Dean squints at him. “You... “ His eyes are wet again. Without warning, Dean grabs him and pulls him up, into a hug, and Jack grabs back as tight as he can, feeling lost. But it’s good, it’s good just like every time Dean hugs him. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as if he can’t feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, hot and stinging. “I love you too, Jack. I don’t get- you and-” Dean sputters off, still holding him. “If you want to hear it, you let me know. I’ll get better at it.”

“Maybe every once in a while,” Jack says, trying not to let his voice sound like he’s crying. It does anyway.

“Alright then,” Dean says, and he squeezes him one more time before letting go, turning away abruptly and bustling back to the stove. Jack wipes his eyes on his sleeve, his whole chest feeling empty and full all at once. The rag had fallen out of his hands sometime in their conversation, and he leans down to grab it, pausing to wipe up the blood on the floor. Dean comes back a minute later and pulls it out of his hand before passing him another plate. “Here, since the last one humpty-dumpty’d.”

They don’t continue the conversation. Jack eats his breakfast as Dean fixes himself another cup of coffee, and they sit quietly, waiting for Cas to come home.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Would You Know Me In Your Heart ~ A Song of Sway Lake Fic

A/N: This sort of unintentionally ended up a 3 part series (parts 1 and 2 being Brick and It’s All Coming Back To Me Now, though you don’t technically have to read either for this to make sense) about pasts and choices for the Sway Lake crew. I hope it means as much to you as it does to me. And, as always but even more so, I owe a huge thanks to @misskittysmagicportal. For the encouragement, and the workshopping, and putting up with me changing my mind about 800 times over the direction/outcome. I couldn’t have gotten here without you. 💖 Word Count: 2522 Rating: T - teen pregnancy, fear and isolation, discussions of abortion, adoption, regret, mild language

“I have one condition,” Jess said, sitting down beside the young girl, who was clearly trying not to cry. “If we go through with this, it’s an open adoption.”

“What? Why?” she asked, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. 

“Because I’ve been where you are,” Jess offered up a hug, or at least a comforting arm around the girl’s shoulders, and she leaned into it.

Now it was Ollie’s turn to stare. He and Jess had been together for years now, and yet somehow, he still didn’t know everything it seemed.

“I know how terrifying and alone it feels, and how heartbreaking it is to think that your child is better off without you.” 

Jess felt the tears stinging at her eyes as she remembered her own ordeal in reaching that conclusion. 

“And you might think that you want a clean break, because watching someone else raise them will hurt too much. And if that’s really the case, that’s fine, you don’t ever have to reach out or open the connection from your end. But I also know you might find yourself lying awake someday, years from now, staring at the ceiling and asking the universe, ‘Is my baby okay? Is he happy? What’s his life like?’ and if that happens, I don’t want you to have to suffer not knowing. I want you to be able to call, or write a letter, or take advantage of a standing invitation to Christmas and birthdays and graduations.”

The young mother started to sob, turning to throw her arms gratefully around Jess's neck. Ollie watched on helplessly as the two shared a pain that he could never imagine, wishing there was some way to take it away, from them both. 

Later on, as they sat side-by-side and curled against each other like a pair of cats, watching the sunset, Ollie finally worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing him all afternoon. 

“Jess,” he said softly. “Will you tell me about your son?”

“How do you know it was a son?”

“You said 'he' when you were talking about the questions you ask yourself. You don't have to tell me if it's too much for you. I just...had no idea.”

Jess smiled a little sadly back at him. He really was the sweetest man. She hadn't planned to ever mention the baby she gave up, and wasn't sure exactly where to start. But she realized she wanted to tell Ollie, so she took a deep breath and tried. 

Jess had often wondered if there was truly a point where you could cry so much there were no more tears left. She had thought the loss of her grandmother might bring her to that point, but even after a week of spending more waking hours crying than not, there had still somehow been more tears to spill. But now, now she might have found the maximum, or maybe just her breaking point. 

“How could you be so stupid?” April asked for the fourth time that afternoon. “And with the Kostas kid? He’s been a manwhore since puberty. Why would you ever give in to that?”

She wanted to protest, to say that yes Sunny slept around, but it was different with her. She wanted to tell her sister that what they had was special and that she loved him, no matter what their relationship, or lack of, was. She wanted to tell her that she didn’t care that he slept with other people, so did she from time to time. But her throat felt dry and her tongue felt heavy and the words just wouldn’t come.

Instead she sat there, staring at the wall, and deliberately not looking at the test in her hands, and let her older sister berate her. Because for once, April was right. It had been one mistake, one moment of stupidity and it was about to ruin her life. 

She found herself thinking back on the night. It had been late, and pouring rain, when Sunny had shown up at her apartment. He stood on the steps, teeth chattering, asking if he could come in. His face was wet and she didn’t know if it was the rain or tears, or both. But he said he needed her (not someone, not Selina but if she wasn’t there Jess would do, he needed her), and no matter what their agreements were, that was all she needed to hear to let him in. She’d handed him a towel and an old t-shirt and her gym shorts. She’d set a kettle on and made tea. She’d marveled at his timing, how he might have come to her for comfort or care, but it was on a night she needed someone too. And they’d fallen into each other like a magnetic pull. It happened fast, neither of them thinking past their need and their hunger. It wasn't until much later, as she watched him sleep beside her and sipped oversteeped, slightly too cold peppermint that it occurred to her what they'd done.

And now here she was, facing the reality of where not thinking had gotten her. Three weeks past when her cycle should have come, unsure if her nausea was fear or something else, being lectured by her sister who finally had proof positive that she was the superior one. Or maybe not positive yet, but it was only a matter of time. 

“Can you stop yelling at me and help me figure out what the fuck to do?” She begged bitterly, voice thick with tears. 

“Don't take that tone with me. You're an adult. I could leave you to figure it out for yourself.”

“Please, April. I'm scared and I need my big sister.”

April scoffed and rolled her eyes. “At least if it's a kid you can get rid of it, so you better hope for that. I've heard the rumors that he's been with men too,” she shrugged. “It could be AIDs.”

“That's not how that works. Besides, he's too smart to be that stupid. He's careful about that shit.”

“Aren't you usually smart about sex too?”

Jess bit her lip, realizing there was no arguing that point. A chill ran down her spine as she realized the test was finally reacting, slowly producing the answer she had feared. 

“The Kostases are loaded right?” April pointed out, peering over her shoulder at the colored strip. “All those famous people and their club, they must be.” 

Jess struggled not to roll her eyes. Of course her sister's first thought was of money.

“Make him pay for whatever you decide to do with it. And all your medical shit besides. Like going and getting it confirmed for sure.”

“I'm not doing that. I won't ruin his life too.”

“Jessie, honey, he knocked you up. You have every right to ruin his life. You should ruin his life. Or get something out of it.”

“I said I'm not doing that. If you aren't going to be helpful, then just go away. I'll figure out how to take care of it alone.”

“Fine,” her sister huffed. “But don’t say I didn’t try.” 

~

Jess did take care of it. By going to doctors out of the city so no one in her small social circle, or more importantly Sunny’s parents’, might catch wind. By wearing thick sweaters and baggy tops no matter the weather, to hide her growing stomach. By avoiding everyone she could, muddling her way through classes and work without socializing. 

She didn't want to think of options, pushing the choice off as long as she could. It was her baby but she couldn't be a mother. Especially not when her parents made it clear that she would get no help from them, and she was sure the very fact would give her granddad a heart attack. 

Jess thought about telling someone on his side. Every doctor's appointment alone or phone call with the adoption agency, every step toward the fateful day was a new scenario. She must have imagined telling Selina a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, and Sunny almost as many. But sometimes it was Klaus, or Honey or Leon (oddly never “and” despite how linked the two were in her mind), Tom Kidman, even Selina's…Luther in one desperate bid of loneliness. But she could never bring herself to do it for real; there were too many ways it could go wrong: anger, resentment, hatred, ostracization, running away; insistence like her parents’ that she get rid of the baby; insistence that they keep him or her - a Kostas, not really hers; shadowy figures in the night come to snatch them away to be some child soldier experiment.

She wasn't sure which thought was the worst, but she couldn't bear any of them. So she kept them to fantasies. 

“He deserves to know,” the voice in the back of her mind chanted in a constant loop. “His family deserves to know.”

But he had a whole world of options still open to him, and they were barely more than kids. It would be an unfair burden.

Instead she just carried on, silent and scared. 

~

Jess laid in the hospital bed, exhausted and sweaty and in pain, but that was nothing compared to her mental state. She cradled the newborn infant against her chest, giving it a chance to nurse. She tried to think of it as distantly as possible, even though her heart cried out for her son. His tiny, dark fuzz covered head and his big round eyes and the way he’d looked up at her moments before. The feel of his skin against hers. Everything about it filled her with regret: that she had made the choice she did, that she agreed to meet him for even a little while, that she couldn’t be his mother.

She knew the couple that had agreed to the private, closed adoption would love him, and that he would be better off with them than in any life she could give. But still, she wanted to look at them when they entered the room a little while later, the little bundle asleep in her arms, and beg them, “please don’t take my baby away.” 

The words stuck in her throat. They smiled at her, the woman reaching out for the child with a coo of how precious he was. A tear rolled down Jess's cheek and landed, fat and round, on his forehead, and she couldn’t help thinking of it as a sort of baptism, as she passed him over.

“Did you have a name you wanted him to have?” the man, Brian, her baby’s new father, asked. “We’d be happy to honor it if you do.”

For the few hours of his life, the child had been ‘Baby Boy O’Neill’, on his crib and the tiny identity band around his wrist.

“His father’s name is Niklaus,” she said thickly, smiling fondly for a second. “Even if he never goes by it. There's a family tradition that he should have some variant on that as part of his name. But I...I hadn’t planned to name him, I didn’t think I was allowed.” 

The man smiled at her, almost as paternal as he looked at her...at their new child. “We’re not taking him out of the hospital yet. Give it some thought. Unless you don’t want to.”

Later when they came back for him, when it was time for them to really take him away from her, she smiled through more tears as she kissed the tufts of hair on the top of his head. 

“I couldn’t think of anything,” she said regretfully when they asked her again about her son’s name. “Besides, he’s your son, really. So you should give him whatever name you want.” 

“Are you sure?” his mother, Niamh, asked.

Jess nodded, stiff and reluctant. They told her the name they had been considering, asking her opinion it, stating again they wanted her to feel comfortable and involved, if only for a little while. 

“We know it’s a little bit of an odd one, but it’s an old family name from my side,” Niamh explained, “that we’d always considered if we had a boy.” 

“It means Son of the Raven,” his father added. “And with how dark his hair is already, it must run in the line, so…” 

Jess’s thoughts were suddenly filled with a familiar, watchful (sometimes judgmental)  black bird, and she didn’t really hear the rest of what the little boy’s new parents were saying past the rushing in her ears that sounded a lot like wings. 

“Unique,” Jess corrected, voice thick. “It…suits him.”

They smiled at her, and then down at the baby still in her arms. 

“It’s decided then.” Brian started to clap his hands together, catching himself at the last moment and slowing it so that it didn’t make a sound to scare the baby. 

She asked if she could hold him, for just one more minute, to say goodbye. They agreed, a look of kind pity in their eyes as they stepped out ‘to find the nurse and fill in the birth certificate,’ so that she could have her privacy.

“Cormac Nicholas MacNamara,” she whispered, staring into his wide, round eyes that already betrayed a glint of not-quite-natural intelligence. “You are going to be so amazing. And I will always love you.” 

“I eventually did tell Selina. I felt horrible keeping it from her, from all of them.”

“Selina's your best friend. I'm sure she understood.”

“But she's Sunny's sister first. It was complicated, and ended up being the longest we ever went without talking.” Jess swiped at her tears again. “I think she was as much hurt that she thought I didn't trust her to help me as at the secrets. But I didn't want to put her in the position of having to choose between us.”

“Obviously she forgave you though?”

“Oh, completely. Eventually. And I thank every god and goddess that might be listening for it. I don't know what I'd have done if I lost her too.”

Ollie was quiet for a long while, thinking about what she'd told him and the weight it must be for her. He couldn't even begin to imagine what that might be like, but it didn’t really matter. Pulling her close with the arm resting around her shoulders, he pressed a lingering kiss to her temple. She sighed, relaxing into him again.

“And adopting a baby with me…” he bit his lip nervously, “it’s not going to, I don’t know, upset you or be too much right?”

“What?” She turned to look at him, brushing the hair from his face in order to meet his eyes. “No. Of course not. There is nothing I want more than to do this. And it’s going to be hard sometimes, but…I have you, we have each other. And I don’t know, I probably sound too much like a Kostas again but, maybe this is setting the balance of things right again?”

Ollie kissed her softly. “I think it’s meant to be too.”

[baka-monarch]

Dirt Crawlers

Look @darkeninganon , I beat you to writing the slug thing!!!! :)

(brain just randomly started thinking of story and I just decided to write it now before I lost motivation/inspiration)

Part 2->

TRIGGER WARNINGS: BUGS, FEAR, MENTION OF DEATH, FEELING SMALL, VERY GROSS DISCRETION

-------------------------------------------------------

Tommy watched Dream as he pushed the door to their hole in the ground open The younger Dirt Crawler was practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day, finally Dream was taking him out on his first hunting trip. It was the perfect day for hunting as well, since it hadn't rained for weeks and was so bright and sunny out (as Tommy could tell from the blinding light coming through their burrow door) that there was no way it would rain; so there was no risk of them drowning in a puddle or getting dragged down to suffocate in mud. It was also the afternoon by now, judging by where the sun was, which meant almost no birds out hunting at all. Yeah, now would be the perfect time to get some food.

"You remember all the rules I told you, right?" Tommy was startled out of his thoughts by his older brother's voice.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know I know!" The teen rolled his eyes. The rules had been drilled into him ever since he was a kid, ever since their parents were still around.

"Okay, so remember that we're only hunting aphids- no attacking ants, ladybugs, termites-"

"Mantises,"-He cut off Dream's words-"slugs- yeah yeah, I know boss man! We don't fight anything that isn't an aphid!!" Tommy climbed out of the burrow with that in mind. He already knows what happens if a Dirt Crawler tries to fight anything other than an aphid, he's been told the horror stories thousands of times. Ants will swarm you if you hurt one, ladybugs can headbutt trample and eat you, termites can take a limb off with one bite, and mantises- of Prime Tommy really does NOT want to think about fucking mantises.

"I'm just making sure-" Dream added as he climbed out to stand next to Tommy, kicking their burrow door closed behind himself. "I know how adventurous you can get at times and I don't want to risk anything." The elder puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder and looks into his baby brother's eyes seriously. The world is a dangerous place for someone only half an inch tall, and he wants to make sure his baby brother is safe.

"Stop worrying so much- I'm not gonna leave your side big man." Tommy smirks into their serious gaze and gives his brother a comforting pay on the shoulder, making them sigh with relief.

"Good- because I don't know what I'd do without your annoying voice." Dream jokes with a slightly forced chuckle and ruffles the teen's curly blond hair. Tommy only groans in annoyance and pushes his hand away, which only makes Dream let out another fond chuckle. "C'mon, we don't have all afternoon!" The elder doesn't give Tommy any time to fix their hair as he grabs their hand and pulls them off into the towering grass blades.

It's a few hours later when the two brothers find themselves watching from being blades of grass as several aphids hop around on the dirt, having called off of the grass after the two tiny people had shaken their plant homes with the help of a light breeze. Dream pulls out a small sword and turns to Tommy to make sure he's holding his own sword correctly. Once the eldest is sure the time is perfect, he gives a signal with his hand and both split- Dream running in from the right and Tommy from the left, both catching the tiny bugs off guard and using that to their advantage to slice off the heads of several before they can jump out of reach.

"You did it!" Dream smiles up at Tommy who himself is smiling proudly. They were running low on food, and now with Tommy's help, they're both sure to have more than enough aphids to last them for a week or more at least. "This should be good- you, did good Toms." The green clad Dirt Crawler walks over to his brother and ruffles their hair, and this time Tommy does not complain. "Now help me bag them up-"

"Yes sir!" Tommy gives a small thumbs up and starts to fill his sprig woven bag with the dead aphids as Dream does the same. It's all fine until one of the aphid bodies gets up and starts to limp away- Tommy missed it's head. "I'll get it!" He calls over to his brother, who gives a nod of acknowledgement before Tommy chases after the aphid, knowing he can easily catch and kill it since it can't jump.

Tommy doesn't notice anything suspicious as he approaches the injured aphid. He doesn't look around at his surroundings as he gets out his sword. He doesn't look up as he stabs the bug and finally kills it. He does however scream after looking up to see where the droplet of slime had come from on his sword after landing the killing blow.

Dream snaps his head up to attention, his eyes wide with fear for his Tommy as he looks to where they'd run off to- and he almost screams as well. "IT'S A SLUG!!!!" He's quick to run over and grab Tommy's arm and start to drag the petrified teen away before they can be eaten.

Tommy doesn't hesitate to follow Dream once he snaps out of his state of fear. As they run Tommy tries not to think about the humongous slimey being of pure squishy muscle, with four eyes that stared at him with nothing but hunger, and a large gaping mouth that was opening and closing, ready to eat it's lunch with the rows upon rows of tiny razor sharp teeth that could allow the disgusting giant to swallow him whole. Tommy shivers, yeah that's going to be haunting his nightmares- oh well at least slugs are slow, so he and Dream have plenty of time to run away…. Or so he thought, before suddenly his running is slowed significantly by something making him stick to the ground. The teen looks down, and sees he's stepped into a trail of familiar slime that has him now stuck where he stands.

"Dre- Dream!?" He yells to his older brother, who also finds himself slowed by the slime trail. Dream looks at his brother sadly, and grabs their arms before desperately trying to pull Tommy free as the slug approaches at a slow orgilating crawl towards them.

"Tommy- Tommy, look at me!" Dream said, keeping his voice firm, trying to give his baby brother something to focus on. "Don't look back- don't- d- don't look behind you. Just focus on me, we're going to get out of this." At least Tommy is close enough for Dream to pull them into a hug. He lets Tommy bury their face into his chest, letting them cry as he glares up at the omnivore that had successfully hunted them down on Tommy's first aphid gathering…

"I- I'm scared…" Tommy admits quietly, something they usually would never do, but Dream can understand in this situation: getting stuck while running from a slug is certain death for any and all Dirt Crawlers.

"I know… I know, but it's going to be okay, I promise…." Dream whispers softly and weaves his fingers into Tommy's soft golden curls, something that's always calmed them down, no matter how old. He hugs his small brother close, closing his eyes so he can savor one last moment with them…

BOOM-SQUELCH!!!

The sound is loud and disturbing to hear for the absolutely miniscule brothers, and they both open their eyes wide in surprise and fear of what happened. All that can run through Dream's head is that the slug must've been crushed by something, but what? A deer? A wolf maybe? Possibly even a skunk even if they aren't in this area? The only way to find out is to look up- and up- and up and up and up and-

"Fuck." Dream doesn't cuss often, but for this occasion it feels necessary.

"Wh- wha-" Tommy begins to ask but cuts off his own words as he feels all his breath leave him in fear, as he looks up too.

A giant. An actual giant. A person, thousands of times their size was standing right on top of where the slug had been only seconds before- and it seemed like they didn't even notice they'd crushed anything.

"Human…" Dream mutters quietly, remembering the word from a story their mom told him once before Tommy was born. Giants- humans- weren't supposed to be here. Dirt Crawlers almost never had to deal with humans… yet here one stood, having unintentionally saved the two brothers lives, and Dream realized in a moment how close they both were to that death dealing foot, and if the human hadn't seen the slug, then if they took another unfortunate step- "R- run- we need to run! Run!!" Dream shouts and starts to pull Tommy, and his brother quickly gets the message as they both pull themselves out of the slime to start running.

Dream doesn't let go of Tommy's hand the whole time as they both run as fast as they can, but it doesn't feel fast enough as every time Dream looks back the human looks just as close as they were before and- oh gods they were looking down at them. Dream pushes forward, trying to pull Tommy even faster with a feigned hope that maybe, just maybe they can at least get to the burrow in time and be safe until the human leaves-

Dream bounces back off of something hard and smooth, he can't see it but he can feel it. Tommy rushes forward to stand beside him and starts to bang on the invisible wall; it's a fruitless effort however as both know that anything used by humans is guaranteed to be too strong for either to break through. Only a few seconds later they feel gravity change and they're sliding down the wall, Dream grabs Tommy and hugs him, wanting to make sure that wherever they land his brother is safe more than anything. They eventually hit a bottom, made of another invisible wall- and as Dream looks up he meets two massive eyes, twice as big as himself, staring directly at him and his brother.

-------------------------------------------------------

Mcyt g/t list:

@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4?? 

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again 

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The First Letter

-------------------

To: Choi Seungcheol

From: Y/N

Hi, Seungcheol.

I know that in your life, I've probably been a side character. A classmate in your autobiography or life movie. I don't expect to become anything more than that because now, I don't think I have a chance.

We've known each other since we were young. We've known each other for all of our life basically, right?

I can still remember what a cute kid you were back in kindergarten. You were such a nice little boy and whenever the other kids picked on me, you would stand up to them and say, “Hey! I'll tell the teacher and I'll also tell Y/N's parents about everything!”

I don't know if you remember that, but I do.

When we went to middle school, I think that's when I first began liking you. Even though we live just a block apart from each other, we didn't talk a lot outside of school. Since we were both classmates and knew each other's house location, it was a bit awkward for me, but thank you for talking to me when we waited for the bus at the bus stop together. Sometimes you would just briefly mention my hair or the small details like new shoes or socks.

Thinking about it still gives me hope that you like me.

Throughout middle school, you always fed me hope. Maybe because in general, you were just a charming, manly, attractive, and caring guy. Maybe I'm still misunderstanding too many of your actions.

I can remember so many times that my heart fluttered and my stomach filled with butterflies because of you, Seungcheol. Since this is a letter to you that I won't send, I guess I'll just write them all down here to keep as a memory, just in case I ever miss you or feel nostalgic. You're my first love, after all, Seungcheol.

There was this time when we were in 6th grade. In 6th grade, both of us didn't talk much, and surprisingly, we didn't get a lot of long-term projects together. I don't think we got any at all actually.

Anyway, it was the middle of spring and both of us were just hanging out with our group of friends. You were throwing around a paper ball, playing a game of catch with your friends during the break. I was just being the usual me, listening to my friends talk while drawing dancing cartoons in the empty spaces in my notebook. Sometimes I would glance up and catch a glimpse of you catching the ball.

Despite being in middle school, you had really large, muscular arms. I was watching you and your friend play catch for a bit. Your friend was right next to me, catching the ball, and you were on the opposite side. I turned back to my notebook then all of a sudden, the ball flew right in my face from your hands.

I let out a small “ouch” even though it didn't hurt. Your friend asked me if I was okay, to which I replied that I was fine. Just then, I don't know when you came, but you came in front of me and took my face in your hands. It only hit my forehead but you examined my cheeks, chin, nose, turning my face in all sorts of directions while asking “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” and saying “I'm so sorry” repeatedly. As I'm writing this, the lingering feeling of your warm palms holding my head and the side of my neck still makes my heart race. I didn't think my heart could beat so fast but it did. I think that's when I was sure I liked you more than a one-sided crush. It became a one-sided love for another two years.

There were way too many times my heart fluttered because of you but because this letter is already so long, I will only express my side of three of those times.

I hope this is an event that you remember. It was the day when you, me, and two other friends went to an amusement park. I think of this day as a double date. I can still remember my friend joking about how you and I looked so good together. I don't know if you noticed but I was so shy. She was also joking about how ‘this was a double date’ and because I was being paired up with you like that, I was just feeling over the moon. You didn't even say anything to deny it, you just laughed as I did.

I remember how your friend was convincing you to ride some rollercoasters but you were so afraid and whining. I remember just thinking you were so cute even though the memory is a bit blurry.

After that, because I wanted us to get closer, I said, “I'll ride it with you, it'll be okay.”

You were still skeptical but to me, it looked like you were giving in. I always wonder if it was because of me or if you were annoyed by your friend's continuous convincing. If it was because of me, then, I might regret not telling you my feelings.

Anyway, I rode the rollercoaster with you and I was, evidently, really scared. I was so scared to ride that thing that I was unintentionally screaming with you with my eyes shut. My hand was holding tightly onto the bar that secured us and I couldn't open my eyes at all. Just then, I felt your hand on mine and I could feel the courage to open my eyes. When I finally stopped yelling and opened my eyes, I saw that you still had your eyes squeezed, gripping my hand tightly.

You looked so cute, Seungcheol. If you opened your eyes, you would have seen how brightly I was smiling. Later that night, I remember, I rolled around in my bed and wiggled thinking back on it.

However, whenever I tried to get close with you, I always backed out because even though there are small moments like those I mentioned, there are more times where it seems like you don't like me the way that I like you. I don't know your heart and I know better than anyone that being friends with you would only make my love for you grow deeper.

It's the first time I'm feeling this way for anyone and I don't know what to do. I want to get closer and explicitly tell you that I like you and want you to date me, but at the same time, I don't know which decision is right. We're both still young is the only excuse I can think of, but still, I can't bring myself to tell you how I feel. All I know is that I might be in love with you and you make my heart race.

This is the last thing I'll share in this letter, even though you won't receive it. I just want to tell you my honest feelings that I can't tell you about physically. Yes, I'm being a coward and writing a letter like this.

You know, Seungcheol, you always had this strong aura to you. You can be so cute but you're so masculine too. I like how caring you are, always taking care of your classmates. I admire you for having such a great sense of responsibility. You always remind me when I'm on cleanup duty. Not to mention how charismatic you look when you rap alone at the bus stop. Your deep voice is beautiful when you sing too. I don't think you know how much I know about you. I don't want to seem creepy because these types of things are just things I can't help noticing. I don't even know why I'm writing this down, it just crossed my mind just now. I might as well pour out the rest of my heart to carve you out, right?

There was this one time last year, at the bus stop, when I arrived before you did. Usually, you always came to the bus stop first, and honestly, without you there made me feel uneasy. It made me realize a lot that your presence gave me feelings of reassurance and comfort. Without you there, I was so paranoid that I took out my headphones just in case my headphones would block out the sound of someone coming. I just remember feeling so scared, clenching my cold fists in my lap. The morning was gloomy and it was even raining.

I remember my mind racing, waiting for you to come. However, I was getting even more scared at the fact that I probably wouldn't be able to hear anything so I just wore my headphones again and listened to some music. I was looking down the sidewalk in the direction of my house, wondering if I should ask my father to drive me to school instead, when all of a sudden, you yanked out my headphones.

You were panting, covered in rain. I stood up because I was shocked and nearly wanted to hug you for coming but because we weren't close, I knew it'd be awkward if I thanked you or something. However, what you said to me, has always lingered in my head.

“Hey!” You shouted in a scolding tone, placing your hands on your hips. “What are you doing out here all alone? Why didn't you go back home and get an umbrella, it's raining so much! Plus, you could have waited until I came first until you decided to sit here alone with music blocking your ears! What are you, stupid!?”

At that time, I just stood, frozen. I was wondering why you didn't have an umbrella meanwhile my heart was fluttering. I was wondering why you were scolding me. Were you worried for me? Do you like me? Those questions still float around.

After scolding me, you sighed and apologized.

“No, it's okay,” I said quietly. I couldn't tell you that I was scared because I just didn't know how to say it without making it awkward. If I did say that I was scared since you weren't with me, would things change?

In the end, you were still soaking wet so you called your dad to get you an umbrella. Why was that? Why didn't you just come out with an umbrella?

I have so many questions about so many seemingly minor things you do to me. Are you worried just for me or are you worried for everyone, including all our classmates? Do you find me a source of comfort or were you just too scared to think on the rollercoaster?

Since the questions will never get answered like how this letter will never get mailed, I will conclude negatively, that you don't feel the same way. The main reason I'm writing this letter anyway is that I'm deciding to get over you. I know we're probably going to be stuck in the same high school but I'm going to stop loving you foolishly like this.

Thank you for being my first love. You being yourself made me feel so many different kinds of feelings, so many different emotions. I fell in love for the first time and I'm glad it was with someone like you, even if the ending is bittersweet. After summer break passes, I'll make sure to get over you.

I won't forget you though. I won't forget the way you cared for me. I won't forget the way you are.

You're an unforgettable first love, Seungcheol.

Sincerely,

Y/N

-----------------

© serenityseventeen

6/18/21 - 3:39 pm

a/n: I'm in love with the entire Your Choice album!!! Ready to Love is such a beautiful song, gosh, I'm in love with it!!! Seventeen always has superior B-Sides and ANYONE is my new bias wrecker + The members posted on Instagram today for the first time in forever (except for Seungkwan)!!!

[amrio]

a nightmare kinda night

So I had this whole story plotted out and everything for fnf's favorite bomb boy and the gang that revolved around fun-sized whitty and how he would've been involved, but I lost interest a while ago... Anyways here's one of the fluff chapters that need no context at all. Oh and fun-sized whitty was dubbed Itty (like itty bitty whitty haha). There's an intro chapter if you want an idea of where this was headed btw.

(Not my characters, they belong to their creators)

------------------------------------

It had been one of Whitty's favorite kind of nights. The kind where the apartment was cool and quiet and there was rain outside the window that he could watch if he wanted to. But that had been three hours ago and the rain had turned into a storm since then. He didn't mind storms all that much, but they were annoying when the crack of thunder and flash of lightning kept waking him up. He wasn't a deep enough sleeper to ignore the loud noises, so he was left to stare either out the window or at the doorway in a daze waiting for the noise to finally stop.

On one hand, he supposed he could get up and go do something to pass the time, but on the other hand, no one else was awake and he was rather comfortable despite not being on the bed he had been given. It had been too ingrained that he had to be ready to move at any and all times in case he was caught up to, so settling down and shutting his eyes for eight long hours just didn't happen. Instead he opted to sitting in the corner facing the doorway, sometimes still sleeping with his eyes opened, but the longer he stayed with Carol the less on edge he felt. And he didn't know if that was a good or bad thing for his general safety. But that was a problem for the brighter hours of the day. As of right then, he was perfectly content to relax into the pile of pillows that Carol had stashed in his corner when she figured out where he slept. Those were nice. He had never had those before. He definitely preferred them over the hard wall and floor after being told what they were for. Softness was new, but he was finding that it wasn't necessarily bad.

So, yes, he was comfortable enough to rest with his eyes shut and listen to the rain in between the crashes of the storm. But then there was a new noise. It wasn't anything like the storm, it didn't sound like passing people outside, but it didn't sound happy. It didn't sound like it was outside at all really. It was much closer than that. It was whimpering. Was someone crying?

Whitty opened his eyes and took a wary look around. He didn't think the sound was coming from Carol's room. She was a deep sleeper and while she hadn't ever cried as far as he knew, the sound didn't match her voice. This left the only other person in the apartment. Itty. The little bomb had taken to sleeping in his bed since he didn't use it. A glance over in the bed's direction confirmed it. Even in the dark of the room, Whitty could tell that Itty had managed to fight the blankets into a knot around himself and was trying to lash out against something in his dream. He didn't have those very often. Dreams. The few he had had were either ungodly amounts of bizarre or absolute terrors that he woke up from crying. After a morning of waking up to one of the bad ones, he had asked Carol about if she ever did that. She had said yes to having what she called a nightmare, but she said she didn't usually wake up crying from them. The concern in her features was obvious even to him, but it wasn't the first time she had looked at him like that, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

With that in mind, Whitty took on the job of being concerned as he got up and walked over to the far side of the bed where Itty was struggling. He was fairly certain that his own nightmares were due to his past including both the lab and The Greater Good always on his heels. But as far as he and Carol had figured, Itty didn't remember much about his past, at least, nothing painful... Yet here he was, crying out in his sleep, scaring Whitty half to death when he started saying coherent words.

"No—! St-stop! Please! It—hurts! Please! No!"

It was painful to watch to say the least. Whitty had never seen the kid look so distraught, with the exception of when he had accidentally caught himself on fire, but that had been more of a panic. This was despair and agony. Thick black tears streamed down the kid's face while he shook and tried to jerk away from whatever was assaulting him. "Please! Stop! Why are you—! Please! I ca-can't!"

He had had enough of that, so Whitty reached down and tried to shake the little bomb awake. At first Itty's struggle only worsened with the grasp on his arm, but after Whitty shook him more insistently he finally seemed to waken a little.

Ittty's eyes shot open and he looked around wild-eyed, clearly not seeing his surroundings, and still shaking, but he did see Whitty and lurched towards him. Well he certainly tried to anyways. The blankets were too tight around him for him to get very far. When he realized this, he only cried harder. "P—please!" He was desperate.

Whitty, not really sure why, acted without thinking and got to work untangling the sobbing bomb. The second Itty was free, Whitty found himself having to brace against the impact of Itty jumping at him. When he got over the fact that Itty was now latched around his neck in a vice-like grip, he actually registered what was happening. Itty, the poor little kid who had the same start he had, was crying his eyes out and scared out of his mind. At first Whitty started to panic a little on the inside. What was he supposed to do with this?! He didn't know how to help in this kind of situation??? But then he looked down at Itty and it clicked. What would I have wanted when I was like this?

The answer to that was an easy one. He didn't even realize what he had wanted until he had been given it with Carol. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted someone there with him. No one would ever truly know what he was and had been going through, but someone's nonthreatening presence would have helped to ground him. As he looked at Itty in his little cat patterned pj's, it occurred to him that that wasn't entirely true, not anymore. He wasn't completely alone. Itty had been put through the same crap that he had, but the kid was lucky. He had Whitty to help him through it.

So with his mind made up, the older bomb moved as gingerly as possible, sat down, and shifted until he was leaning against the headboard with Itty tight against his chest. He wasn't very good at the whole affection thing yet, but he had seen Carol comfort Itty enough times to have a good idea of what he was supposed to do. First things first? Get him to stop crying.

"Hey," he muttered down to the crying kid. "Itty. Look at me."

Itty had his face buried in Whitty's neck and didn't seem to hear him, sobs still wracking through his little body.

Whitty blew out a puff of air before trying again. "Itty." He nudged him out of his hiding spot and offered a small smile when he saw the pair of normally bright, but now horribly scared eyes finally look up at him through the tears streaming down his face. "Hi. Think you can focus on me for a second?"

Itty looked so so confused, but after a second he gave a hiccuping nod. Then a clap of lightening struck followed by the deafening boom of thunder and sent Itty into crying hysterics all over again. He was right back in the hollow of Whitty's neck, but for a whole new reason.

Whitty glared at the storm outside, the rain wasn't going to ease up anytime soon and neither would the noise. How was he supposed to get the kid to ignore something as loud as thunder?! The headphones Carol had given him were on the other side of the room, but he knew that getting up wasn't even remotely an option with Itty attached to him. So he looked around for something nearby. Something to block the noise...?

Then he looked down at Itty again and it appeared that the kid already had it covered, or at least unintentionally had a good idea. The little bomb, in his panic, was trying his hardest to burrow into the side of Whitty's hood and hide from life and the loud scary things in it. That was a fairly easy solution Whitty figured. Plus it would even shield Itty from the flash of lightning so maybe he would calm down and go back to sleep. He's still not sure how he managed to get to the zipper with Itty in the way, but after a few minutes of rearranging and struggling with the petrified child, Itty ended up resting snug in the jacket with his head now on Whitty's chest and safely hidden away from the storm outside.

Another flash and crack of the weather outside had Itty tightening his grip again much to Whitty's annoyance. I thought we just fixed that issue. But he supposed that still made sense. Just because he couldn't see the storm didn't mean that Itty couldn't still hear it. It shook the apartment for Pete's sake. Of course he'd notice it. He needed a distraction or something else to focus on. But what else was there for him to do? It's not like there was anything he could go get for Itty to listen to. What else did Carol do when the kid was upset or feeling down? What did she do when he was upset?

He scrunched up his face trying to think as he watched another flash light up the room and scare Itty again. Normally she would get his attention and get him to sit down so he was at her height. Then she could effectively hug him and not his legs, and so far Whitty had the Hug Step accomplished. After that it was a toss up between talking him through whatever had stressed him out at the time or being quiet and there with him until he calmed down, depending on how upset he was. Well...that or she got him to sing. He liked singing with her quite a lot, so she usually hummed something that he could hum right back until he was up to singing and by then he had usually forgotten about what had set him off in the first place. ...How he had managed without her a year ago, he had no idea.

He personally didn't feel like singing right then. The room was pretty quiet aside from the storm, but his singing voice was not. He wasn't trying to compete with the thunder (even though he probably could and win), he was just trying to be a distraction. The question of if he should hum at all was answered the second he looked down at Itty's shaking frame. The poor kid hadn't asked for any of this. So Whitty sighed and started to hum. At first he didn't really know what he was humming, there hadn't been any song in particular on his mind at the time, but after a few notes he realized that it was the same song that Carol sang to him when he was upset.

Itty didn't react immediately, still flinching at the next bout of noise from the storm, but slowly his grip loosened and his crying faded in to sniffles and then just hiccups. He tucked himself closer to Whitty, but not out of terror this time. This time he was trying to get closer to the calmer sound of Whitty's song.

This entire time Whitty as been more or less still sprawled out on the bed, with his long legs propped up over the end of the bed and his arms still at his sides, unsure of what to do with himself. As Itty's breathing slowed, the need to curl around the kid suddenly hit him and he really had no idea what do with that. But...Carol did tell him that it was okay to respond to instincts like that. They were normal. Some of his amalgamated DNA was human after all. He had just never had a chance to indulge in any of the more touchy feel-y instincts before. But...they were why he liked hugs after he had had one. So now he hesitantly glanced at Itty, who looked pretty comfortable where he was, and shifted until his legs were crossed under him and his arms were curled protectively around the kid.

If it was any condolences to him, Itty almost immediately sighed and didn't even register the next crack of thunder. In fact, he appeared to be dozing off again. Perhaps Whitty had actually done it! Still humming, the bomb couldn't help but smile a little at his victory. He had calmed down a frantic, teary-eyed kid, without anyone else's help. And the thunder didn't even bother Itty anymore! Double win!

After a while Whitty ended up settling enough to shut his own eyes for a while, not to sleep—at least, not intentionally—but he could enjoy the weird but not bad feeling of Itty leaning against him. It wasn't entirely new to have someone using him as a pillow, Carol did it all the time. Her napping on top of him kept him in place and out of trouble, and he got to bask in the comfort of her trusting him enough to sleep within such close proximity. But Carol wasn't like him. She was soft and little.

Itty was little too, he supposed, but he wasn't soft. Not like Carol. He and the kid were made of the same stuff. They were both had rough skin and were often scalding to the touch when upset. And well. Itty was just in tears over a nightmare. Whitty didn't think anyone else could handle the little bomb when he was truly upset, just like the previous "fire" incident. But to him, the burning hot was nothing more than warm. Now, he didn't like why Itty was so worked up, but it was comforting to have someone so similar to himself. It was familiar.

Everything in life was so foreign to him. Affection, technology, people not being violent to him, having a roof over his head, eating a full meal...but Itty was not on that list. Itty was like himself, and he knew himself pretty well. The way Itty responded to situations was just like how he did. If something ticked him off Whitty recognized the heat rolling off of the kid's frame just as he recognized the spark at the end of his fuse and the little cracks in reality at his feet when the kid was truly angry. Itty's reactions were small compared to his own, but seeing another react the same was...it was interesting. Other people saw that all the time—people reacting in similar manners to themselves, but Whitty never had before. It was somewhat comforting if he was being honest.

He briefly wondered if that was what it was like to have a family. It seemed like a family thing, but he wasn't exactly an expert on that. The TV shows Carol watched sometimes had families involved and it seemed to line up with his thought process. People reacting similarly to the people around them who in turn knew and even expected the reactions. These families always seemed to enjoy each other's company to some degree, and he enjoyed Itty's company most of the time. Was that the same thing?

Whatever it was, Whitty decided it wasn't a bad thing, at least, it didn't make him feel anything bad. Looking down at Itty one last time, the only thing he felt was warm. Warm wasn't bad, right? He felt warm every time Carol grabbed his arm to show him something and even when Hex excitedly called him over from the other side of the basket ball court. Warm always followed him when he was around them, people he trusted or at least, people he wasn't afraid of. So yeah, he supposed, even if family wasn't the right word, he liked the feeling that was nestled in his chest as he accidentally drifted off with the smaller bomb leaning against him.

It was another new weird thing, but perhaps he could get used to it.

[vanillacaramelhoney]

Different (4)

Pairing(s): Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: YN leaned over to whisper to Five. "I like him."

Warnings: Mentions of doing the deed 😏, uhhh some violence?

A/N: I absolutely love Klaus and his dramatics

Will this post show up in tags? Who knows

Masterlist

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The Meritech building was modern, as expected for such a big company. Walls lined with windows gave a great view of the city outside while also allowing natural light inside. Nearly everything was white, giving the place a cold and sterile feel to it.

Five and YN waited a while for the building to open before they could finally go in. As they waited, Five had filled her in on the importance of the eye.

"Can I help you, kids?"

Turning back around, Five and YN saw a man dressed in a white lab coat with identification wrapped around his neck.

Five took the lead, stepping forward and holding the eye up. "We need to know who this belongs to."

YN stood right to the side of him.

"Where did you get that?" the man asked.

"What do you care?" Trying not to sigh, YN poked Five's back as a way to tell him to say something better. "We found it. At a playground, actually. Must have just-" Five clicked his tongue "-popped out." Five smiled up at the man, while YN bit the inside of her cheek, resisting a laugh.

"I wanna return it to its rightful owner," Five explained.

"Oh, what a thoughtful young man," the receptionist awed.

"Yeah, look up the name for me, will ya?" he asked her.

"Uh, I'm sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential," the man told him. "That means I can't tell you-"

"Yeah, I know what it means," Five stopped him.

"I can tell you what I can do. I'll take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just-"

"Yeah, you're not touching this eye," Five snapped.

"Now you listen here, young man-" before he could continue, Five had the collar of his coat in his hands, pulling him down to his eye level.

YN let out a sigh, innocently glancing away from the scene.

"No, you listen to me, asshole," he spat. "We've come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn't even comprehend, so just give me the information we need, and we'll be on our merry way. And if you call me 'young man' one more time, I'm gonna put your head through that damn wall."

"Oh, dear," the receptionist's voice wavered. YN sent a smile her way.

"Call security."

The woman picked up the phone and quickly dialed. Recognizing defeat, Five let the man go with a shove.

Vanya let out a sigh at the sight of her brother. "Oh, thank god." He glanced back at her. "I was worried sick about you."

"Sorry I left without saying goodbye," he apologized, turning to her.

"No, look, I'm the one that should be sorry," Vanya said. "I was dismissive, and I guess I didn't know how to process what you were saying. And I still can't, to be honest."

"Maybe you were right to be dismissive," Five said. "Maybe it wasn't real, after all. It felt real. Well, like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind."

"Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to," Vanya told him. "Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information."

"Thanks, but," Five trailed off for a second, "I think I'm just gonna get some rest. It's been a long time since I've had a good sleep."

"Okay," Vanya said. "And your friend- is she alright?"

"Yeah, she's around here somewhere."

"Alright." Vanya left the room after one final look at Five.

He followed after her to make sure she left, and the wardrobe door came open, two figures crawling out and unintentionally pulling stuff out with them.

"That's so," Klaus trailed off as he stumbled up, as did YN. "...touching. All that stuff about Dad and time. Wow!"

"Did you have to shove me in there with you?" YN asked Klaus.

"Would you two shut up?" Five hissed. "She'll hear you!"

"I'm moist," Klaus played, patting YN's back.

"I thought I told you to put on something professional," Five said, gesturing to Klaus's outfit.

"What?" Klaus asked. "This is my nicest outfit."

Five sighed. "We'll raid the old man's closet."

"Whatever, as long as I get paid." YN snorted.

"When the job is done."

They trailed out of the room together.

"Okay, but just so we're clear on the finer details," Klaus said, bringing them all to a stop, "I just gotta go into this place and pretend to your guy's dear old dad, correct?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"What's our cover story?"

"What?" YN asked. "Why would we need a cover story?"

"Well, I mean, was I like really young when I had you guys?" Klaus went in. "Like 16? Like, young and terribly misguided?"

"Sure," Five agreed, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Your mother, that slut." YN tried to hold back her laugh but failed. "Whoever she was. We met at..." he trailed off in thought before a fond smile spread across his face, "the disco. Okay? Remember that."

Klaus snapped his fingers. "Oh, my god, the sex was amazing."

"What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain," Five said, turning and grabbing YN's hand. He led her down the stairs as Klaus said something about time-out.

YN leaned over to whisper to Five. "I like him."

"Of course, you do."

"Like I said to your kids earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential," the man Five and YN had dealt with not long again spoke to Klaus now, who sat across from him. "Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you."

"Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name," Five told him, leaning on the desk.

"Well, that's not my problem," he said. "Sorry. Now, there's really nothing more I can do, so-" "And what about my consent?"

The three looked to Klaus, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"Who gave you permission...," Klaus trailed off before continuing to speak with an edge of pain to his voice, "to lay your hands...on my kids?" He pointed up at Five, who stared down at him in confusion.

The man across from them seemed just as confused.

"What?" the three asked.

"You heard me."

"I didn't touch your children."

"Oh, really?" Klaus asked. "Well, how did he get that swollen lip, then?" He sat up in his chair.

Both YN and the man tried to question him on Five's lack of swollen lip. Klaus, however, was one step ahead, standing from the chair and swinging at Five.

The man stared in shock, and YN bit her lip to keep herself from doing anything.

"And her?" Klaus pointed back at YN, who's eyes widened as she realized it was her turn. "That bloody nose."

YN sighed, bracing herself.

Klaus's fist collided with her nose, and she stumbled back with a shout. Blood slowly dripped from her nose and down her face, falling onto the floor.

For someone that looked as scrawny as he was, Klaus sure did pack a punch.

Five was by her side in an instant to make sure she was alright.

Klaus inhaled sharply, turning to him. "I want it. Name, please. Now."

"You're crazy," the man pointed at him.

Klaus chuckled. "You've got no idea." He glanced down at the snow globe on the desk, picking it up. "'Peace on Earth.' That's so sweet."

In a quick motion, he smashed the snow globe on his head, groaning out in pain.

The three jumped, startled, as Klaus let out a howl of pain.

"God, that hurt." His face was wet, glitter in his hair and blood dripping down his face.

The man quickly picked up the phone, mentioning security. Klaus ripped the phone from his hand.

"What are you doing?"

Klaus gasped into the phone. "There's been an assault in Mr. Big's office, and we need security now," he said. "Schnell!" He let the receiver clatter onto the desk and looked up at the man.

"Now here's what's gonna happen, Grant," Klaus said.

"It's...Lance."

"In about sixty seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they're gonna wonder 'What the hell happened?'"

Five looked at Lance, a smug look on his face.

"He really knows what he's doing," YN muttered to him. Five glanced back at her.

"And we're gonna tell them that you...," Klaus trailed off as a look of sorrow spread across his face, and a whimpering tone took over his voice, "beat the shit out of us." He let out a dramatic sob that turned into a sigh.

"You're gonna do great in prison, Grant," Klaus told him. "Trust me, I've been there. A little piece of chicken like you, oh, my god, you're gonna get passed around like a..." the man trailed off as he began rotating his hips in a circular motion. He quickly waved off the thought. "You're just- you're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying."

"Jesus, you're a real sick bastard," Lance said, looking between the other two before staring up at Klaus.

"Thank you." He spit out a shard of glass.

Lance picked through the documents with shaky hands with the three watching him closely.

He pulled out a file and opened it, sending an uncertain glance at Klaus.

"Huh, that's strange," he said.

"What?" Five and YN asked.

"The eye," Lance explained. "It hasn't been purchased by a client yet."

Klaus dropped off the surface and landed next to him. "What? What do you mean?"

"Well, uh, our logs say that," he trailed off a moment to glance at Klaus, who walked around him as an intimidation tactic, "the eye with that serial number... This can't be right. It hasn't even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?"

He looked at the two across from him in bewilderment.

Five sighed with a subtle shake of his head.

It was quiet for a moment before YN finally broke it.

"Do you have any tissues?"

"Well, this is not good." The three walked out of the building in defeat once again.

"I was pretty good, though, right?" Klaus asked. "Yeah, what about my consent, bitch?" He let out a wild chuckle.

"Yeah, you were great, Klaus," YN agreed, "but did you have to give a bloody nose? Jesus." She dropped down on the steps of the building, holding a bundle of tissues to her still dripping nose.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Five injected.

"What? What? What's the big deal with this eye, anyway?" Klaus questioned.

"There is someone out there that is going to lose an eye in the next seven days," Five told him. "They're gonna bring about the end of the world as we know it."

"It's a pretty big deal," YN added.

"Yeah, can I get that twenty bucks like, now, or?" YN groaned in annoyance.

"You can't be serious, Klaus."

"Your twenty bucks?" Five asked.

"Yeah, my twenty bucks."

"The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?" Five seethed.

"Well, I'm also quite hungry. Tummy's a-rumblin'." He imitated his stomach, adding in weird hand motions.

"You're useless," Five said. "You're all useless."

"Five," YN warned.

"Oh, come on, you need to lighten up, old man!"

Five ignored him, opting to sit down by YN.

"Hey, I just now realized why you're so uptight- you must be horny as hell," Klaus laughed out, joining Five's side. "All those years- did the two of you never go at it, or something? That would be mind-blowing. Surely you'd crack at some point. Besides, don't think I didn't notice those rings."

YN hid her face in her free hand, trying to hide in embarrassment.

"You don't need to hear about all the things we've done," Five grumbled.

"Oh, so you've done a lot?"

"Oh, my god," YN drawled.

"I bet you say that to him a lot." YN looked away in disbelief.

"You know, you guys sure have been together a long time," Klaus said. "God, the longest I've been with someone was three weeks, and that's only because I was so tired of looking for a place to sleep."

"Can we leave?" YN whispered to Five.

The boy grabbed her hand, and they jumped into a taxi.

The driver looked back at them, startled.

"Don't stop," Five told him. "Just keep driving."

----Taglist

@fancytravelerbird​ @megasimpleplan4ever​ @yikes-matey​ @we-all-are-strange​

[suwya]

Proteus’ curse.

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Summary:  Emma woke up like any other morning in her bed ... to find out that the day would not be like any other. 

This story takes place during the weeks between S4A and S4B.

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Rating: G

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Warning: gender swap

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AO3

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A/N: Apparently it's exactly eleven years of Tumblr for me. Hence a one-shot.

This is meant to be a lighthearted and funny story, or so I hope. 

All my gratitude goes to my amazing beta-reader @thisonesatellite.

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Emma woke up like every other morning in her bed, in the upper part of her parents’ loft. Henry was staying at Regina’s for a few days, so she knew she was alone in her room, that’s why she was surprised to see Hook’s hand first thing, after slightly opening her eyes. 

She tried to remember the previous evening, and she knew that they had spent more time than necessary downstairs before separating, but she was sure he had left before she went to bed. 

Had he come back, snuck into her room during the night? Well, that was a first. 

But she wouldn’t complain if he had decided to sleep behind her, with an arm enveloping her waist. 

She closed her eyes again, deciding to enjoy this little quiet moment. 

But it was strange, she couldn’t feel his body heat. 

She opened one eye again. His hand was still there, and it was definitely his hand that entered her peripheral view. With his characteristic rings, and some hair on the arm that peeked out the pajama sleeve, the same color as hers. 

Wait… not only the same color, exactly the same pajamas! 

That was even stranger. Bright pink was not something he used to wear. 

She lifted her right hand to touch his, but at the same time, he lifted his.

Emma was finally completely awake. Sitting on the bed, her back leaned against the headboard. 

She looked around, but she was alone.

She stared at her hands. 

No. Definitely not her hands. 

Those were Hook’s hands, or better, hand. Just one. The left sleeve of her pajamas ended in nothing. 

No! No! No! Emma started chanting it inside her head. This isn’t possible! 

Emma stood up and hurried towards a mirror hung on the wall on the right side of the bed. 

She gasped as soon she saw her reflection, hand and blunt wrist lifted, trying to cover her face... or better, his face!

In the mirror, there was no trace of Emma Swan, just the image of Hook wearing her pink pajamas with little bunnies on them. 

Ok, to be honest, the image was ridiculous, but she didn’t find the strength to laugh. “No! No! No!” She started to repeat, this time aloud. 

Emma went running downstairs, but she immediately realized she was home alone. She had no idea what to do, it seemed like a bad nightmare or an awful b-movie where the main characters made a wish to be in the other’s shoes. But she was completely sure she hadn’t made such a wish. Had he? 

She was pondering whether to call and ask Hook about this when the main door opened and David entered with a strange look in his eyes.

Father and daughter stared at each other for a few seconds. Emma didn’t know if she was blushing or she was going mad, but she couldn't imagine what kind of thoughts might be going through her father's head. 

What he finally said was the last thing she was expecting. “Emma?”

He didn’t ask it as if he was wondering where his daughter was, he asked it as if he wanted to be sure that the person in front of him was really Emma.

“Dad?” Was her reply. But it came out as a question. Because if she was in Hook’s body, who was talking to her? She had been living in Storybrooke for quite some time now to know that everything was possible. 

“No. Not your dad, honey. I’m your mother.” He… she… whatever… answered. 

Emma sat down on the first chair she found and sighed. “What the hell happened last night?”

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~·~·~·~

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Killian woke up to the sound of an incoming message text on his phone. He turned around in the bed and before reaching for the device, he passed a hand over his face, trying to shoo away the nightly cobwebs.

What the hell? He thought, feeling only smooth skin, no trace of his stubble. He looked down at his hand, or better say, hands. Because he now had two of them. Delicate, neat, and very, very feminine.

He jumped out of the bed and went to the bathroom, noticing that he had to tie the belt of his trousers, now wide on his hips. When he looked up in the mirror, he cursed "Bloody hell!"

How is this even possible? He thought, reverently touching the blonde tendrils that covered his shoulder. In the mirror, there was one sleepy and somewhat unkempt Emma.

"Emma!" He exclaimed. Worries starting to fill his mind.

Killian went back, pacing his room at Granny's, deciding what to do, when he suddenly remembered the text message and grabbed his phone to read it.

"We need to talk." Was the short line from his love. Nothing more. 

He didn't know if she was in the same dire straits he was. But if he was inside her body, she probably wouldn’t be in better shape.

A knock on the door distracted him from his thoughts.

When he opened, the vision in front of him left him speechless.

"It's me. Emma." She felt the need to specify. "May I enter?" But she didn't wait for his reply and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Killian was still looking at her, or rather, at himself, mouth agape. 

Emma put her one hand on her waist and arched one eyebrow, waiting for any kind of reaction from him.

After what seemed an eternity Killian was only capable of asking "What the hell are you wearing?"

Emma opened some buttons of her shirt, revealing the pink pajamas with bunnies under it. "Do you think walking here in my pajamas would have been better?" 

Killian shook his head.

"And thank God I always wear pajamas two sizes too big, because otherwise, I have no idea in which state of undress I would have woken up this morning!"

"I'm glad you just put some clothes over it." Was his reply. "I suppose those are your father's, aren't they?" He stated, indicating the large plaid shirt and the jeans she was wearing.

She nodded. "And, by the way, I brought you some clothes of mine, so you can change". She left a bag at the end of the bed.

Killian was wearing the same outfit he had worn the previous day. When he had come home at night, he had collapsed on the bed without taking anything off, apart from his black leather jacket and boots. “I do not intend to change.”

“Why not? You can't go out like this.” Emma pointed to the belt he was wearing, cinched tightly, and the way his clothes fell oversized on her thin body. 

He shrugged. "I'm not going to undress until we are back to our own bodies."

Emma arched one eyebrow again. She was getting used to doing this gesture she had so often seen on his face. "Are you telling me that you're not going to have a shower until we solve this problem?"

"Are you?" Was his reply with a shocked expression on his, well, her face.

"I haven't thought about it, but I suppose I'll do it, sooner or later. Or do you prefer me to carry your smelling body around the town?"

"Emma, love" he started, struggling to find the best way of expressing what he wanted to say. "We're making progress in our relationship. That's a fact. But we haven't taken the next step, yet." He stressed the last “t” and made a pause letting his words soak in her. "Are you sure you want me to look at your fully naked body for the first time while you're not in possession of it?" 

Emma could feel how the upper point of her, ahem… his ears became hotter. "Oh!" She was only able to say.

"Exactly my point. Oh! So no. I do not intend to bathe while I'm not back to be myself. My entire self!" 

And then he scrunched her face in disgust.

"What is it?" She asked, touching her, his cheeks, "Do I have something on your face?"

He shook his head. "No worries. I just realized I don't like the way I blush."

“All right.” She sighed. “Let's get to business. David and Mary Margaret are waiting for us at the station.” After a short pause, she added, “And before you ask, yes, they have swapped their bodies as well.”

“This is going to be weird.” It was his time to sigh.

“Weird is the understatement of the year!” Emma exclaimed. “David ...no wait, Mary Margaret told me that not everyone in this town has been affected by this… thing. She has already met Leroy and Granny this morning and they seem to be their usual selves.”

“So why us?” Killian asked.

“My mother has a theory, she texted me a few minutes ago that she would like to talk with us in person about it, both of us.”

“All right, love, lead the way.” He gestured toward the room door.

But before leaving, Emma asked Killian to help her put on his hook because doing everyday actions one-handed was nothing easy. He had his doubts, worried that she would hurt herself or someone else unintentionally, but in the end, he gave in. "Be careful, it's sharp."

And he had to lace her hair in a ponytail with a rubber band she had given to him, because "If you don't want to wash, at least comb my hair, I don't want to become a Rastafarian". He had no idea what that was, but Emma's already categorical orders sounded even more threatening coming out of his lips.

.

~·~·~·~  

.

When Emma and Killian entered the station, David, in the body of Mary Margaret, was already there waiting for them. He was wearing a soft pink sweater, very typical of his wife, and he was scratching his neck. "I don't know how Snow can live inside this!" 

Killian suppressed a laugh "Was it indispensable for you to put on her clothes?"

"My wife thought that we should attract the least attention possible, given that this curse, or whatever it is, hasn't affected all the people of Storybrooke."

"Where's mom?" Emma asked.

"She said something about a matter at school, but she'll be here soon."

"I can use this time to relieve myself," Emma said.

"No!" Killian and David shouted simultaneously.

"Are you kidding me?" She was stunned.

They both shook their heads. "You'll have to wait." 

"Come on girls, I'm going to explode!" As soon as the words came out of Emma's mouth, she realized her mistake, which was received by a scowl from the men. "Guys." She corrected herself. "Sorry, out of habit. But I really, really need to."

"Fine!" Killian exhaled. "I'll help."

"What do you mean, help?" David was annoyed.

"It's my bloody body." The other man cut short.

A couple of minutes after, Killian was standing next to Emma in the small toilet of the station. 

She had a scarf tied around her eyes so that she couldn't see anything. "Is this really necessary?" She asked arms stretched before her to not hit anything.

"Aye, love, it is."

Killian positioned her in the right spot and she felt how the zipper of the jeans opened up. 

She couldn't see, but her other senses were quite alive. When Killian took out her, or better said, his member, she jolted. "Whoa!" 

"Everything alright?" Killian worried.

"Yeah, sorry, it's just... Is this what you feel when someone is touching you?" She inquired.

He seemed to ponder over it. "I'm not sure what you're feeling right now, but I suppose yes."

When Emma finished and was fully dressed again, Killian took the scarf from her eyes. 

"Don't you have to...?" She asked, pointing towards the toilet seat.

He shook his head. "When you live on the ocean for so many years, you learn how to hold it. Facilities are not the strongest point of a ship."

"You may know how to repress it, but I know my body and believe me, you won't resist as much as you think." 

He swallowed hard. "Let's go back to our duties."

.

~·~·~·~

.

When Emma and Killian went back to the main room of the station, Mary Margaret was already there as well. 

She told them that a girl had locked herself into a class room and had no intention of coming out. 

Snow had had to go check it out as sheriff, but as soon as she’d arrived she’d recognized the girl's voice as that of one of her ex-students. 

A classmate had told her that the girl in question had come to school that morning crying and saying that she had done something horrible.

Mary Margaret knew the girl’s background, she came from a good family, and her parents were True Love, which made it likely that this girl was showing the first signs of magic.

“It could have been her, unintentionally causing all this trouble.” She explained. “And giving that she is the product of True Love, well, I thought that’s why this sort of curse doesn’t affect all the people.”

“I don’t follow you.” Was Emma’s statement.

“I mean that, maybe, it affects only True Love couples.” Mary Margaret stated.

At that, there were various looks exchanged between the four of them. But it wasn’t the time or place to discuss it. 

Snow went on. “David, she won’t talk to me, because she doesn't recognize me. But I’m sure that if you could go to school and try to make her reason, we could probably find out what she did.”

“Me?” He asked bewildered.

“Yes, you. Because to the rest of the world, you are me!” And she crossed her arms indicating that the matter was closed.

David muttered something like “What would I say to her?” and “Why is it always up to me?” But in the end, he surrendered to his wife’s desire. With the condition that Killian would go with him, in his role of Sheriff Swan. 

In the meantime Emma and Mary Margaret would go to talk to Regina, to find out if there was a possible magical cure to this curse, or whatever it was.

.

~·~·~·~

.

Regina opened her front door to see a very puzzled David Nolan, who was more interested in finding out if anyone was following him, and an unusual Killian Jones, who was wearing an outfit more typical of the man next to him. The mayor raised one eyebrow in question, looking at the couple in front of her. “Sheriff, Captain, what can I do for you?”

“Ah… we hope you could help us with a delicate issue.” The blond man said. 

She left the door wide open for the others to come inside. “I see that being part of the Charming family is affecting you more than it should, pirate.” She was looking down at Killian.

“We’re not who you think we are.” Was his short reply.

Regina froze. “And exactly who are you?” She knew that glamor spells were never a good thing. 

“Emma”. “Mary Margaret.” They answered in unison.

Regina relaxed a bit. “Well, this is…” She started. 

But she was immediately interrupted by Emma “Weird.”

“Awkward”. Mary Margaret added.

“I was going to say: amusing.” 

“Believe me, Regina, there’s nothing funny about this.” Emma snorted. “And by the way, why aren’t you in Robin’s body?” She asked.

Regina crossed her arms and lifted one eyebrow. “Should I?” 

“Yes. Or at least we thought you…” But Emma didn’t finish the sentence.

“I supposed that this curse, or whatever this is, is affecting only True Love couples. But maybe I’m wrong.” Mary Margaret explained.

The mayor seemed to ponder that possibility. “You could be right.” She conceded. “Assuming that the Savior and the Captain are True Love.” 

Emma didn’t let her go down that path. “But that doesn't explain why you are still…you!”

“Because magic only applies to Storybrooke boundaries, and as we all know, Robin is now out of town.” Regina clarified matter-of-factly. “That’s why his, I mean, her" she added pointing towards Mary Margaret "theory could be correct.”

Emma was not at all liking the turn that dialogue was taking, and went straight to the point. “Can you undo it?” 

“I could. If I knew who made this curse and how. You should know that all magic has its counterspell, but we need to be sure about how it was created.” It sounded more like a reproach than an explanation. “And by the way, have you tried by kissing your guyliner boyfriend?” 

“Regina!” Emma hissed.

“Alright, alright.” The mayor complied. “Let me know if you find out who did this. And I will work on a possible antidote.” 

.

~·~·~·~

.

Meanwhile, the two men had almost reached the school grounds when Killian grabbed David’s arm to stop him. “There is no need to raise suspicions, we should behave like the people we seem to be.” 

“What do you mean?” David wasn’t following his companion’s thoughts.

“Your wife doesn’t walk like that,” Killian stated.

“What?” 

“It’s more like a fashion show than a march to war.” The other explained.

“I don’t know if I’m more upset by the fact that you noticed how my wife walks, or because you know what a fashion show is.” 

“What can I say, I’m a man of many surprises.” Killian winked smugly.

“I’m not going to punch you in the face, just because your current face is my daughter’s.” David started his stroll towards the school, even more at the full march.

“I never thought this situation could have some perks.” Killian chortled. 

.

~·~·~·~

.

As it turned out, Mary Margaret was right. The girl was scared when Killian and David entered the room where she was hiding, but as soon as she recognized her ex-teacher she burst into tears. 

She told them that the day before she had argued with her boyfriend, but her parents didn't seem to care about it, confident that sooner or later the young lovebirds would resolve it. She added that it was very difficult to be the daughter of a perfect married couple; it seemed that everyone expected her life to be the same. 

That was why she had so badly wished that all True Love couples could go through some kind of misunderstanding so that her parents could see her point of view.

But, of course, the next morning, realizing the harm her wish had caused her parents had made her regret it, and now she had no idea how to fix the situation.

David tried to reassure the girl, telling her that they would soon find a cure to fix everything.

.

~·~·~·~

.

And that was exactly what Regina did. Fixed it. In no time she produced the antidote for the Proteus’ curse. That was the name of this curious magic that swapped True Love’s bodies. The mayor gave to all the couples affected some little bottles that they had to drink to reverse the curse.

Killian and Emma were standing in his hotel room at Granny’s. Facing each other. Two vials on the table next to them. 

“So,” she said, “this is it. Back to our original selves.”

“Aye, that’s the idea. Are we sure Regina didn’t put anything strange into these liquids? I wouldn’t like to wake up tomorrow with a dragon face or similar.” 

“I think we can trust her.” But she didn’t move to reach for the bottles. 

He saw her hesitation. “What is it, love?”

“I was thinking about something you said this morning.” 

She was clearly uncomfortable, so he tried to lighten the moment. “You shall have to be more specific, I said many things.”

“I’m glad you chose to not take a shower. Not until we’re back to normal.” 

“No need to thank me.” He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, but it was strange for him to notice his stubble under the fingertips. 

“Yeah, well…” 

She was still hesitant, he could sense it. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me? Or shall we proceed to…” He said, indicating the vials. 

She looked at him hesitantly and he nodded, to let her know that she could tell him anything, whatever it was that was worrying her.

“Uh… given that we haven’t taken that next step already in our relationship… you know… we could try things.” 

This attracted his curiosity. “Define things.”

“I was thinking… what if we take advantage of this situation to get to know each other better. I mean… we could for example take that bath together.”

Killian was starting to understand what she was trying to say, but he wasn’t sure to be on the same track. “Even though I do find myself devilishly handsome, I’d rather be you, all of you, on the other end of my attentions.” 

She laughed, releasing some of the tension. “But we have this opportunity to feel what the other would feel when we touch each other, isn’t it interesting? And I'm glad I'm not the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you.” She grinned. “So, what do you say?”

She was being serious, she really wanted to try it. But what did he want? He stared at her for a few beats of their hearts. Then he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” She was surprised.

“No.” He repeated. “As much as it does sound intriguing and tantalizing, I still prefer our first time to be the way it should be. And believe me, Emma, when we decide to take that step, we will know what the other one is feeling, maybe not in the most literal meaning of the word, but we will know it. And it will be perfect. Just as I want it to be.” 

A million thoughts seemed to cross her mind, but in the end, she understood his point of view and smiled at him. “Ok.” She went closer and tilted her head until she could feel his lips on hers... or vice versa. The kiss was short but still intimate. 

“And by the way, I do not like to be the one who has to get on tiptoe to be able to kiss you,” Killian muttered.

She burst out laughing.

[unexpectedreylo]

How Ben Solo Became A Martyr

If anyone were to pull me into a Hollywood studio office or lunch at some see-and-be-seen L.A.-area restaurant (personally, I like The Ivy) and ask me, a lifelong t.v. and movie viewer, what should show runners, directors, writers, and anyone who has a creative say in a production avoid doing, one thing I would say is, “Don’t unintentionally make a character a martyr.”

I don’t mean the sense of being a martyr in-universe but being a martyr to the audience.  

First I should define what I mean by “martyr.”  In a Christian sense, it’s a particular kind of saint who suffers and dies a horrible death for his or her faith.  In a secular sense it can describe anyone who suffers and/or dies horribly for a cause or that suffering/death calls attention to a matter of injustice.  This can also be applied in a more colloquial sense, such as when anyone suffers in some way or tries to use the impression of suffering to elicit sympathy.

If anyone at Lucasfilm is wondering why there’s a tribe of people on social media doing Ben Solo hashtags, making pins, and putting blue butterfly emojis on their handles, I’m here to tell Lucasfilm it’s because you guys made Ben Solo into a martyr to the audience.  

First, they made Kylo Ren/Ben Solo Han and Leia’s son/Anakin and Padmé’s grandson.  This makes him an easy investment for fans who have loved those characters for decades.  The killing Han Solo part might have made a certain segment of longtime fans so angry at Kylo they not only couldn’t forgive him but  they didn’t even want him redeemed but others could see how the death clearly affected him which elicits sympathy and compassion.

Second, they got an extremely talented, charismatic actor to play Kylo/Ben.  Adam Driver refused to play Kylo as a one-dimensional mustache-twirling killing-machine villain.  He added subtlety, nuance, and humanity to the role, all the while captivating the audience.  That he’s also sexy didn’t hurt.  As bad as Kylo could be, we also see the soft underbelly, the hints of the real Ben Solo hiding behind the persona.  He managed to create the kind of hero we’d been hoping to see in the ST within a short amount of time and practically no dialogue.  That’s extraordinary.  Driver took Kylo as seriously as he takes any other role.  He could’ve been making a bunch of other Oscar-nominated movies instead and we all know it.  Getting him was a gift and some fans out there think it was ultimately kind of wasted.

Third, if TFA hinted at Kylo’s humanity, Rian Johnson made it entirely the point of Kylo’s arc in TLJ.  When Kylo destroyed his helmet, Johnson was able to let Driver go nuts with a script that treated its characters like human beings instead of caricatures.  While Kylo was still capable of evil and all-around bad guy-ness, we also saw someone who could be gentle and caring, a tortured young man struggling with deep remorse, a lonely soul who can only find connection with someone who’s supposed to be his enemy, and sometimes, a hero.  Those pleading puppy dog eyes and trembling lips did a lot to elicit sympathy from filmgoers.  That he’s also sexy didn’t hurt.

Fourth, both the films and ancillary material showed Ben was subjected to abuse and suffered greatly for the mistakes of his elders.  Ben was targeted at conception and suffered with voices in his head most of his life.  A kitchen droid tried to take him out.  His parents were too busy doing whatever to really give him the attention he needed, even though Leia was aware some outside force was after her son.  His parents ultimately feared him and his emotional freak outs.  Han and Leia shipped him off to Luke’s poor man’s version of Hogwarts, leading to some deep abandonment issues.  Luke almost killed him in his sleep.  The very popular The Rise of Kylo Ren comics series basically acquitted Ben of everything he supposedly did leading up to his fall.  Then Kylo is verbally and physically abused by Snoke.  This has created a tremendous amount of sympathy for Ben, especially by those who have struggled with any number of real-world problems.  They identified with him.  Hollywood as of late has coded a lot of villainous or antihero characters as having mental illness or being neurodiverse or having addiction problems as well as enduring physical and verbal abuse.  I get that writers want to enrich these characters and make them relevant to a modern audience and that actors like the challenge in playing them but I also think Hollywood is being a little irresponsible about it.  Not only is it potentially stigmatizing it also seldom has a solution to those characters’ arcs other than death.  How is someone living with bipolar disorder or autism finding a kindred spirit of sorts in Kylo/Ben going to feel about the constant message that such a life isn’t worth living?  Ben just suffers and suffers and suffers and gets nothing for it.

Fifth, we’re presented with material depicting Ben’s youth.  Ben, when he’s not getting the stuffing kicked out of him by life, is quite lovable and as a child, adorable.  At least with Anakin Skywalker, we’re supposed to appreciate the tragedy of a good person who was loved falling to the Dark Side.  With Ben it makes us love him 10x more and at the same time make us even more upset they unceremoniously killed off that darling little moppet who played with butterflies, ran around the house naked, and begged his daddy to come home.  

Sixth, it didn’t seem like Ben was sufficiently loved either in the films or by Lucasfilm.  Or, to put it this way, whatever gestures Han, Leia, or Luke tried to throw Ben’s way were cases of too little too late.  I always wondered why, if Leia knew Snoke was manipulating Ben, she didn’t go out to find the mo-fo and kill him?  I would!  Leia tries to reach out to Ben in TROS but in the movie it comes off as her distracting him so Rey could inflict a fatal wound.  In fact, the weird thing about TROS is it feels like Leia was trying to take out Ben all along:  the distraction, ensuring Rey takes up her “Jedi path” which Leia knew full well this would somehow lead to Ben’s death, and finally her disappearing the same time he does.  It’s weird!  Han tries to save Ben but he’s a muggle who’s no match against his unstable son gifted with magic powers and lightsaber abilities.  Luke apologizes in TLJ but never had anything to say to his nephew again.  Adding insult to injury, the Blue Ghostie Exposition Scene From Hell establishes Luke and Leia as resigned to Ben’s fate all along, kicking their flesh and blood to the curb for a surrogate more to their liking.  It’s horrible!  The worst is of course his soulmate barely reacting to his death.  In the end nobody cared.  He’s like the kid who cleans up his act, gets good grades, gets into a decent college, and his family couldn’t care less.  The movie abruptly kills him off and it’s on to cheering and celebrations.  Nobody remembers or speaks of Ben and he’s not seen again in any form.  Four-five months after the film has come out, there’s no official Ben merchandise or collectibles.  It’s like “Ben Solo?  Don’t know him.”  You just know that every time the Star Wars social media team has to mention him or post something with him in it, they’re muttering under their breath, “Oh God, here it comes again.”

So they got a number of fans to empathize with Kylo/Ben and hope for his redemption as well as a chance at happiness after a lifetime of abuse and suffering, only to kill him off in a sudden and graceless manner.  There’s no payoff for Ben or the audience.  He’s just...gone.  To us it doesn’t seem right.  It seems cruel and unjust.  But fans are also a tenacious lot so they’re hoping Lucasfilm will realize it made a mistake and correct it.  In the meantime, Ben lives on in our fan fics, edits, fan art, and fan merchandise.

[merakiaes]

Try Again - Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: A bit of angst and mentions of a miscarriage. Not proofread so sorry for any possible mistakes. I hope you like it xx

Wordcount: 3171

Summary: Following a tragic turn of events, you end up comforting Tommy as he mourns. 

There’s a unique pain that comes from preparing a place in your heart for a child that never comes.

When you’re pregnant, you are either talking to your baby constantly in your mind or thinking about things related to the baby. That’s why it’s like falling through a trap door if they die. One moment you are in this avid, dialogue, the next moment just… silence.

If anyone ever asked, you would with a one hundred percent certainty be able to say that it was the loneliest feeling in the entire world and the most painful thing you had ever felt, both mentally and physically. The second the doctor told you that your child was gone, it was like your entire world went silent.

You had only found out that you were pregnant a few weeks before but in just those few precious weeks, the life growing inside of you had changed your life forever. And Tommy’s, too.

It had been an unusually sunny afternoon in Small Heath when you had rushed out of the hospital and down Watery Lane, barging into the betting shop to tell Tommy the good news.

The panic he had shown when you barged in in the middle of the business meeting on such short notice was indescribable, and your brothers-in-law were no different, everyone wasting no time in getting out of their chairs to ask you what was wrong.

Not being able to form any coherent words as you were so out of breath, you had simply marched right across the room, grabbed Tommy’s arm and dragged him out of there and back into the house, where you had proceeded to tell him the news you had just gotten.

And it was safe to say that you had never seen him so happy before. 

His face lit up in the widest smile you had seen him smile since before the war, and he had then proceeded to pick you up and spin you around, all while kissing your face repeatedly and successfully having everyone else running into the room when you accidentally knocked over a pot on the stove.

Tommy had yelled the news at the top of his lungs, already then bragging about the fact that he was going to be a father, and everyone else had been just as overjoyed as he had been. Partly because of the good news, but majorly because this was truly the happiest they had ever seen him, and it brought hope to their hearts.

He didn’t leave your side for as much as a second after that, making you follow him around on business and everything, but of course never in a way that put you in harm’s way.

Every night, he would talk to your stomach, insisting to do so no matter how much you tried telling him that the baby was barely even big enough to be considered an actual human being yet. 

He held you close every night as you slept, took care of you like never before, and his mental issues were really starting to take a turn for the better.

But then, for the first time in eight weeks, he was forced to leave you alone when going on business to London with his brothers, leaving you solely in the company of Polly.

She had always tried to convince her nephew to give you some space to breathe, that he was far too clingy and protective, so as he left, despite having promised him she wouldn’t let you out of her sight, she let you wander off to the market on your own, like you had wanted for the past weeks but hadn’t been able to because of your husband or brothers-in-law following you around.

It had gone fine to a start. You had gotten some nice vegetables and bread for the dinner you would be preparing with Polly until the others came home, and was halfway home when a car had suddenly swerved to a stop before you.

Your body had instantly filled with panic and you turned around to run the other way, but before you had much time to react, four men jumped out of the car and came your way, and the next thing you knew, you were knocked out cold.

Tommy and his brothers came home later that evening to a frantic Polly and Ada, and when they proceeded to tell him you had been gone for hours and that someone had dropped off a rather worrying letter at their doorstep, Tommy felt as if his entire world came crashing down on him.

Not only had he lost you, but he had also lost your unborn baby.

The rest of the night was a blur of blood, fighting, and killing. Stupid as your captors had been, they hadn’t realized that Tommy was far more of a brainiac than they had thought, and he managed to track them down within the next four hours with the clues they had unintentionally left in the note.

They found you passed out in a pool of your own blood, and to a start, him and Arthur, who had been the ones to first find you, worried that you had been stabbed or shot. But then John arrived and shot down their conspiracies, having enough experience with childbirth to know that that was not the case.

You had been rushed to the hospital. Tommy hadn’t been allowed inside your room when the doctors first took you from his arms, resulting in the entire lobby of the building being trashed, until John and Arthur finally managed to calm him down.

They waited and waited, for another four hours, until the doctor who had taken care of you finally appeared from your room.

Polly was the first one to get the news, a hand coming to her mouth and tears stinging her eyes the second the words had left the doctor’s lips. And then, she had been the one to tell Tommy, and from that moment on, it was if something died inside of him, rather than you.

When you woke up and got told you had lost your baby, you had cried. Harder than you had ever cried before. You had known from the start that there was always a risk of you not being able to reproduce, miscarriages and infertility having existed in your family for many generations back.

Your parents had to go through a total of four miscarriages before they finally had you, and your mother had told you early in life that there would always be a possibility of you inheriting the troubles. 

It broke your heart, of course, but still, because of this, you knew there was no actual reason in particular as to why it happened.

The first days, you hated yourself. No one had prepared you for the hate you felt for yourself because your body couldn’t do the only thing it was supposed to do. 

But then you had remembered your mother’s words, and you realized that you can do everything right, but sometimes things don’t go the way you want, and that’s not your fault.

And it eased your pain to know that your baby had never been touched by fear. They were never cold, never hungry, never alone and most importantly, always loved.

But Tommy didn’t see it that way, despite also having been aware of the possibility of infertility since when you first met. No one knew how much he cried that day. No one but you. He tried to hide it, but you knew. You always knew.

He didn’t just grieve for the child you had lost. He grieved the entire life he had planned and envisioned with them. You had always made him a better person, always provided him with comfort and love since he came back from the war, and long before that.

But that baby… That baby had been the first time in a long time that he actually saw a chance to make something good of himself, and the fact that it was now gone, it took hard on him.

He blamed himself, for not protecting you and for putting you in the line of danger by doing what he did for a living. Despite the fact that your miscarriage had nothing to do with being taken by his enemies, that’s all that he could think off.

You had been manhandled when first being grabbed off the street, hit in the head with a metal pipe, and then locked into a dark, moldy room, and that’s all the reason he saw.

Despite the fact that you had been the one to physically lose the baby, he had been the one who took it the absolute worst. 

He couldn’t stand to look at you, much less be in the same room as you, as every time his eyes would meet yours, he would be reminded of how he hurt you, how everything was his fault and how he couldn’t fulfill his sole duty in life and protect you.

The experience wasn’t only heartbreaking for him, however. You were mourning too, and everything you wanted was to be comforted by the man you loved.

But he couldn’t be near you, instead starting to distance himself. And just like that, the positive changes he had made for himself after finding out you were pregnant were tossed in the cut, the old him quickly returning.

He started going out, drinking his sorrows away and smiling through the pain. He fought, a lot. All it took was for someone to look at him the wrong way and he would hit them upside the head with a bottle and put a bullet between their eyes. And if someone ever brought up the subject of you or your baby, may God bless them.

Five weeks had passed since the miscarriage and despite the two of you being married and sharing a house, you had barely even seen Tommy since the day you were released from the hospital.

You slept alone every night, woke up in an empty house every morning, and he avoided you to his best ability throughout the days.

Everything had led to you holing yourself up in your house with your depression growing more and more for every passing day. 

You didn’t visit Polly during the days anymore, didn’t go by the betting shop to check in on your family-in-law and didn’t come with them to the Garrison, the latter mostly being because you didn’t want to torture Tommy by forcing him to be in your presence when he clearly wanted to be alone.

The only time you only ever left the house was when you went over to John’s house during the evenings to help him get his kids into bed, like you had ever since Martha passed away. 

You found comfort in being around his kids, and as he knew this, he would sometimes bring them around for a quick visit whenever he had a day off from the whole Peaky Blinder business, knowing how his older brother was barely home to keep you company anymore, leaving you in your lonesome.

Arthur came by every once in a while, too, and Polly came by with food every day, both of them apologizing on behalf of Tommy every time.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at him. You had known him long enough to know that he would come to you when he felt ready to openly mourn in your presence. You wouldn’t pressure him until then.

Tonight was the first night in a long time that you had actually left the house for another purpose than visiting John and his children.

Your cousin had knocked on your door earlier that day, being in Small Heath for the day while she and her husband traveled back to Ireland from having been on vacation.

You hadn’t seen her in a long, long time, but she had been made aware of your unfortunate miscarriage through the phone only a few days after it had happened. 

She was one of the many unfortunate women in your family to live with infertility, and you had felt great comfort in knowing that you had someone who understood what it was like.

Her and her husband had invited you out for dinner and a night on the town in an attempt to cheer you up, and despite the fact that you to a start had rather stayed at home and slept the rest of the day away, you accepted, and hadn’t come to regret it.

The clock was almost one in the middle of the night when you finally got back home, stumbling over the threshold and kicking the mud off your boots.

The house was dark and eerily silent, and you instantly let out a sigh, realizing Tommy hadn’t come home tonight either. 

Without as much of a sound, you got out of your coat and hanged it on the coat rack, unlacing your shoes before grabbing your handbag and venturing further into the house.

And once you reached the doorway of your bedroom, you had to keep yourself from yelling out in fright at the sight of Tommy sitting at the edge of your bed, not having expected to see him.

You brought a hand up to your chest in a desperate attempt to calm your racing heart. “Thomas?” You asked quietly, almost scared that he would disappear again if you spoke to loudly.

He didn’t move a muscle at the sound of your voice, simply staring into the fire at the other side of the room. “It’s past midnight, where were you?” He asked without looking up.

“I was with my cousin and her husband.” You told him honestly, taking a slow step into the room and putting your handbag down on the chair near the doorway. “You remember Lisa and James, right?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out?” He asked, causing you to frown slightly.

“I haven’t seen you in days.” You admitted silently.

“You could have left a note.”

You shook your head, fiddling with the rings on your fingers. “I didn’t think I had to. You haven’t set foot in here for a week, either.”

He released a shaky sigh, his eyes falling closed and his head falling down slightly. “I thought you left me.”

“What?” You asked, your frown deepening and your feet instantly starting to steer you in his direction. “I would never leave you.” You told him.

As you came to a stop before him, you carefully reached your hands out and cradled his jaw, bringing his head back up so that he could look at you. 

He opened his eyes and met yours and your heart instantly broke at the sight. They were bloodshot and slightly swollen and you could see clearly that he had been crying.

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. If I had just…” He started, his hands moving up to grip at your hips and his eyes never wavering from yours as a fresh set of tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I should have been there more for you. For both of you. And now…” He cut himself off with a dry, breathy chuckle, shaking his head.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before looking back up at you again. “Will you ever be able to forgive me?”

You sniffled, tears now falling freely down your face too, your heart breaking from seeing him in such a state. The only other time you had seen him this broken was the first night after he had come back from France and you had never thought you would have to see him like that again. 

“It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing to forgive.” You said, shaking your head while wiping a tear from his face.

He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut again, and you softly brought his head into your stomach, his arms automatically wrapping around your torso and the fabric of your dress instantly getting wet with his tears.

You brought your hands up to his hair, running them through his soft, black locks soothingly, fighting back your own tears as he trembled under your touch.

Taking a shaky breath, you continued quietly. “We knew this was a possibility from the start. My parents had to try many times before they had me. I…” You hesitated, your lip wobbling at the thoughts going through your head.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have children, Tommy.” You shook your head. “And I understand if you would want to move on with someone who can give you what you want.”

Your body gave a tremble of its own as those words left your lips, your eyes squeezing shut tightly and your grip on his hair hardening slightly as anxiety filled your ever muscle. 

Your biggest fear in life was to live a life without him by your side, but the last thing you wanted was to hold him back by possibly not being able to have children. After seeing how positively he reacted to the thought of becoming a dad, you couldn’t do that to him.

But he just pulled you closer, slowly bringing his head out of your dress to look up at you with wet eyes. “You’re everything I want.” He said, slowly bringing you down onto his lap. “I would never want anyone else. Children or no children.”

You smiled a wobbly smile but the tears still kept coming as you pressed your forehead to his, taking his face in your hands while his stayed at your waist.

“I can’t promise you it’ll work, but I-“ You took a breath, closing your eyes for a moment and brushing at his cheek with your thumb, before looking into his eyes again with a frown settled on your face. “I want to try again. I want to start a family with you. There’s nothing I want more.” You admitted in a whisper.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “What if you get another miscarriage?”

“Then we keep trying.” You quickly answered, bringing his face even closer to yours. “As long as you understand that, whatever happens, it’s not your fault, then we keep trying.”

Silence fell over you for a moment, his eyes moving away from your eyes to settle on your lips. 

Both of you kept breathing heavily and you kept quiet, giving him the time he needed to think. 

After twenty seconds worth of silence, he finally swallowed, nodding his head and bringing one of his hands up to take your chin in between his fingers.

“Okay.” He whispered, nodding his head.

A sad smile rose to your lips, taking in his conflicted expression, and you slowly leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

It started out slow, but soon, the emotions you had been bottling up for the past few weeks took over you, and you fell back on the bed together to try again.