#that night Daisy is in bed with his laptop and his wife is like 'are you working?' and Daisy's like

[fazcinatingblog]

Daisy dresses up when his boyfriend comes over for dinner

[hidden-poet]

UNTIL. DEATH; 5

Harry woke at 4 from pure excitement. He felt as if he had been waiting for centuries. He had dreamt of a wife since he could last remember, and now she was finally here. 

His reward for years of hard work and perseverance just in the room next to his, sleeping safely. Harry felt as if he had finally won.    

Or at least he could see the finish line from were he was at.

He peeks in to see daisy sleeping. She had gone to sleep in a singlet and cotton pants. She curled up against the pillow telling Harry that she wanted him. 

She shuffles slightly and Harry retreats to his own room. It would not be good to be found peeking this early on. 

He goes to the light in his walk-in wardrobe. The space empty and waiting for his wife. He runs his hand along the wood. Soon it would be filled with fine clothes for her. She would infiltrate his space and make it a home. 

Leave her scent lingering amongst his clothes as he slaved away in his office. 

It was almost in his reach. All he needed was for Daisy to wake up. 

Harry doesn't sleep the rest of the night. Choosing four cups of earl-grey and some planning for his new development. 

He sat in the living room with his laptop on his lap. His eyes lingered to the steps when they should have been focusing on his work. The later it got, the correlation between the decrease of his work became evident. 

By the time it hit 7:15 he had only managed a period at the end of the sentence. He changes tactics washing and dressing himself. 

She does eventually rise from bed at 8. She sits at the counter with a bowl of cereal in torn jeans and a grey t-shirt. Her attire was something to be worked on but nothing money couldn't fix. 

"Good morning" he greets. 

"Good morning" she smiles back. It makes his heart flutter. 

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks pouring a cup of coffee from the pot.

"Like a baby. That bed is like a cloud".

It was extremely expensive so Harry was glad to hear it. 

"Good" Harry remarks. 

He hated the silence that came next. She was suppose to ask how he slept, and then he was going to mention that he woke early to finish some work. Showcasing his string work ethic. But she sat eating her cereal. 

"What's the plan today?" he tried to warm her up to conversation. 

"I have collage at 10. I should actually go. I haven't done any of my readings". 

His plan had failed as she picks up her bowl and rinses it in the sink. She wasn't engaged in conversation, she was running from it. 

"I'll take you" Harry offers in a haste, "I am just leaving myself". 

She shakes her head no with a bashful smile, "It's ok! really. the bus runs every 15 minutes". 

"My car is running in 2 minutes" he takes her elbow in his hand and leads her out to the living room, "Go get your stuff".

She smiles up at him. It was a good sign. A promise to a happy future together. She was learning now that she could rely on him. 

She tells him she'll be fast as she runs up the steps, only slowing to allow Vera and Hunter down the steps. She gives them a 'good morning' in passing. 

For once Venessa had Hunter ready for the day at a respectful time. His diaper bag slung over her shoulder suggests they were going somewhere. 

"Can you give us a ride to play ground? it's on the way to work" Venessa asks. 

"No" was the immediate response. He felt he needed the time alone with Daisy to build their relationship. Sharing a car now could mean an extra week added until the start of their relationship. 

Venessa huffs in disappointment.

"Bus runs every 15 minutes" Harry shrugs his shoulders, leaving his coffee cup on the kitchen table. 

Daisy bounces down the steps once more and Harry couldn't help but smile. 

"Whoa" she exclaims, "this is your car?".

Harry felt his shoulders shake with pride. 

"You like it?". He opens the door for her in true gentleman style. 

"It's beautiful". She accepts his invitation in. She sat perfectly in the seat. 

Harry imaged matching cars in the drive way when he returned home. They had matching taste.

Her smell hits him as he enters the car after putting his briefcase in the backseat. It knocked him around. He hadn't even realized that he had started the car and began to drive until the security man at the gate wished him a good day. 

"This community is insane. A security man to let you into your own block, so crazy rich". 

"Do you like it here?". Harry would hate to move if she didn't but he would if she asked him too. 

"I mean, it's been one day, but yes, I could very much get use to a neighborhood were the biggest crime is someone's bins not being brought in after bin day. My car got stolen twice at my old place. I got it back when the police were done with it the first time but the second time, it got totaled in the chase". 

Harry cringes at the story. It was so obvious she needed a man to protect her. Was she hinting at it too? 

"That's bad luck. I am sorry". 

Daisy laughs unexpectedly , "A little excitement at least". 

Harry offers a tight smile unsure on how to respond. The collage was only 20 minutes away and was quickly coming into view through the traffic. 

"How's collage going?" he asks. He didn't really care. University was no place for a women like Daisy. Hunting grounds for suitable men but a waste of time for someone so pretty. 

"Good. Good. Excited to graduate and get out in the field". 

The field being work. Another place not fit for Daisy. She would be miserable but feminism would command her to be happy about her misery. Nursing babies at home is not fulfilling enough, they needed to be out amongst the men to prove something to nobody. 

The women who protested at the traditional family unit, never had a chance at obtaining it. Their jealousy turns to venom and spills into the heads of impressionable young women like Daisy. Daisy was not a fat, bule haired, repulsive dog. She had a shot at a very happy life as a little wife. 

There was no need for the 'field'. All she had to do was let Harry take care of her. She too seemed to realize this as they pull into the drop off line. 

Her turn comes up to quick and Harry's heart drops at the sound of her unblucking her seat belt. 

"Thank you so much for the lift" she makes a quick exist. 

"Anytime, Daisy". Her name like hot butter on his lips. 

"I'll see you at home. Have a good day". She waves him off as she enters the school ground but he remains frozen in his car. 

Home. She had said home. A shared space between the two of them. Home, shared between man and wife. She wanted him. He was sure now. All his work was his to taste now. 

The car behind him beeps the horn. With a roll of his eyes, Harry drives off to work. 

With the work from this morning, Harry was finished his work by 1. It was still impressive considering the amount of breaks he had to daydream about being a husband. 

He had mentally started to plan the wedding. He had almost got the guest list down. They would have a band, not a DJ and the first dance would be to 'At last'.  Once he knew more about Daisy, he could pick the type of ring he would buy. His thumb flicked his ring finger, feeling the empty space. 

It didn't feel right. A ring was suppose to by there by now. Daisy had come latter then planned, but better late the never. Still, he felt almost ashamed to be unwed. 

He couldn't stand another second in his office with his critical thoughts. They proved to be a warning sign as he exits his office, Mary is sat at her desk with Brad half leaning over her. 

She stops talking as soon as she sees Harry glaring from the doorway. 

"Mary, I need you in my office" he demands. 

"Mr Green" brad greets but is ignored. 

"Now" Harry reiterates. 

Mary and brad go their separate ways. Harry is quick to place a door between them. 

"I am going home for the day. If you direct the calls to your mobile you can too but either way I do not want to hear you spent the afternoon conversing with Brad". 

"But" Mary begins.

"You're easy to fire, Mary" Harry collects his case from his desk and leaves Mary in the office. 

He does not drive home, rather the jewelry shop he passes every morning. 

A security guard opens the door for Harry, sensing his money from how he dressed. He was greeted quickly and offered a drink but he refused all service. Instead going straight to the ring cabinet. 

He stares at the gold rings under the counter. He had always imaged picking out his wedding ring with his bride-to-be. Maybe he could come back with daisy

"Hello sir" the women behind the counter greets.

"Hello" he shyly responses. 

"Can I help you with anything or are you just looking at the moment?" she politely asks. Harry was sure to leave her a nice tip at the end. 

"I am looking for a wedding ring. My wedding ring". Just the words coming from his mouth gave him a rush. He couldn't image the actual feeling he was to receive when it was finally true.

"Oh. Congratulations. when's the wedding?"

"March" harry lies easily. "Beautiful. Has anything caught your eye so far?" He points to a thick gold band with a small star Dimond in the middle.

"I'd like to see that one". 

She takes the tray out of the glass cabinet and places it before Harry so he could see all the similar rings. She passes the desired ring to harry, who slips it on his ring finger. 

"8 carat gold, engraved artwork of a shooting star centered on a ethically sourced diamond".

It was a beautiful ring but perhaps too causal to be a testament to enteral love. He wanted something that screamed married man. This ring could easily be confused with a dress ring. 

He passes the ring back to the young women, gazing upon the rest of the selection. 

Another one catches his eyes, and he picks it up without permission. It looked like the one his father used to wear. Rectangle in design with small diamonds edging the side. 

It would pair nicely with Harry's signet ring so he put it back. A wedding ring was a leash to let all others know that the person wearing it belonged to another. It was not a fashion statement. 

Besides, a reminder of his father was the last thing Harry wanted. 

"Do you have anything more wedding appropriate?".

"Of course, sir" she places the tray of rings back under the counter. Harry was interested to see her own wedding finger was bare, despite her many rings. If he hadn't found Daisy just days before he would have asked her out.

She was pretty and polite enough. But now Harry was a nearly married man. 

The young women walks over to another counter, brining back a collection of rings. 

"These one has just came in. The latest style in men's wedding rings, is this beautiful emerald cut diamond set in 14 carat white gold''.

She showcases the ring to Harry but he had always been a traditional man. He had no interest in trends. The diamond was cut into a rectangle shape and displayed sideways in the center of the ring. 

"I am more of a gold man" he tries to redirect her gently. She nods her head, placing the ring back and picking up another. 

It caught Harries attention immediately. A thick gold band that had small circle diamonds lining the top and bottom.  

"How about this one. 10 carat gold, featuring two rows of perfected small diamonds".

He takes it from her gently and places it on his finger. It looked perfect upon his slim finger. Strong and masculine but with a romantic touch. It showed he was head of a household to a loving family. A reflection of who he wanted to be. 

He was aware of the young girl looking at him while he stared at his own reflection in the gold. He tried to shake off his excitement, as he wiggles the ring from his finger and reluctantly places it back into her hand.

"This is the one", he remarks as if he hadn't just seen his life flash before  his eyes. 

"Great" she smiles at the commission, "I'll get it wrapped up and meet you at the front counter".

He had wanted to insist that she just give it to him to wear out, but the wedding was in March, he had said so himself. Women got excited for weddings; men just paid for them. 

He waits impatiently at the counter. His foot taps against the carpet as he tries to control his facial expression. 

The young women is quick and follows to the counter before Harry could get too impatient. 

The smile on her face never disappears, "With warranty that will be $5,700 today". 

He flashes a smile back and then his card. 

"She'll be very happy with your choice" she comments as Harry signs electronically.  

He leaves her a $300 tip for her service and playing unknowingly into his fantasy. 

"If not. We'll be back. Happy wife, happy life". 

She laughs somewhat forced and wishes him a good day. 

Harry in his good mood, wishes one back. 

He takes it out of the box as soon as hey gets into the car and shoves the ring onto his finger. It looked so good. Like it was meant to reside there. He didn't care if it wasn't real. One day it would be. Harry was born to be a married man. The gold on his ring finger confirmed it. It molded around his finger. Harry was a family man without a family. But daisy would soon change that. As he drove, his eyes lingered to his hand on the steering wheel. God he loved the look of it. He stops at a shopping center, despite not needing anything. The ring glistened in the sun as he walked with a new air of confidence. He felt as if people were looking at him in a positive light. A young married man, they probably thought, a kid or two or at least one on the way. He was not one to fall behind but in his personal life he admitted he was not where he wanted to be. But he was catching up. The ring pinched his skin as he picked up a basket. He liked the feeling. He had not been in a shop for years. It felt different now he could afford more than beans. He wondered around the store, picking up random items that seemed like they would fit his imagination. Daisy asked him to stop by the shops to pick up salad things for dinner.  She was at home, under the weather with their two year old. He better pick up some more dippers. Can never have too many. A grandmother smiles at him as she passes him in the baby ile and he nods back. Family man. Doing family man things. Not being able to help himself he picks up baby food and a colorful plastic shaker toy. The basket was full and heavy by the time he reaches the counter. He avoids self service: he wanted someone to see the contents of his basket and draw their own conclusion. He is greeted by a middle age women who begins to scan his things. "My baby has one of these" she shakes the rattle stick, "he loves it". Harry cringes watching her bag his things. She was standing behind the counter for long periods in an ugly red shirt. If her baby was still entertained by a rattle toy, she should definitely not be at work serving him. The company would go on if she was rightfully at home. Harry felt like her and her presumed still boyfriend was single handily ruining the country. He and his, had to defend the traditional ways. The right way. He imaged Daisy at home bouncing a baby on her hip as she prepared dinner. How lucky was he (soon to be). Harry doesn't speak to the un-wed mother as she tells him the total. He just presses the card against the reader until it beeped and then went home to his family. His hand slightly turning towards her as he picks up his bags to show his ring. Tucking the nappies under his arm for all to see, he takes the steps of a man who had a overwhelmed wife and a young child at home.

He plays the fantasy the whole car ride home. A rushed father needed at home. 

But as he pulled into his carport the fantasy ended and reality set in. He twists the ring off his finger and places it on his index finger. An ode and silent promise for what is to come. 

For now he had to act calmy. If he is caught in a crazy act, it could push Daisy away forever. 

He unloads the car, placing the diapers once more under his arm. A harmless play. 

He was disappointed to find Venessa home and not Daisy. 

She greets him like she knows too, but could instantly tell something was wrong. 

"You got me diapers?" Venessa asked. He normally brought the diapers but never personally picked them up himself. He felt a sense of annoyance handing them over to her. "They were given to me" he lied. She takes them, balancing them on the opposite hip of hunter.

"Well thank you". Another thing she has learnt living with him for the past few years. Always be polite, always show gratitude.

"Did Daisy say what time she would be home?" He asks as he places the bags in the kitchen. He had little idea where to put them. 

"You took off with her this morning. I barely knew she was going". 

Harry pulls the rattle toy out of the bag and walks over to Hunter who took it in his little hand. 

"Can I hold him?". 

Vanessa wanted to say no, but the lights remained on because of him.

He seemed okay. Lucid enough at least to know that Hunter was not his son.

She passes him over to Harry's tight hold. 

"You like that?" he exclaims to the child, rattling his new toy. 

"I was thinking" he turns his attention to Vanessa, "You shouldn't get a job while Hunter is so young. I don't want you to be standing behind a counter while Hunter is left to another". 

Vanessa was shocked. That was Harry's bullet. Get a job and stop leeching off him.  Now suddenly he was going against himself. Daisy was a good idea for both parties. 

"I agree. A boy needs his mother but his mother needs money". A callous move on Vanessa's part. 

"Help me secure Daisy, and I'll look after you both" he promises, "Hunter will go to the best school, best collage, and straight on to a secure job at my firm. At which point you will become his responsibility and not mine".

Vanessa grins, "What's not to love about you?". 

She knew from experience a lot.

Daisy was still not home yet. It was nearly 6. Harry paced the living room, waiting for her. He freezes his pace at the sound of the door. 

She greets him with a cheerful 'hey' and his anger vanished. "We were worried about you. Up near the university can be a dangerous place". She brushes him off with a shrug. "Not really. There's campus security". "Still we would feel better if we knew what time to expect you home". Daisy looked unsure on how to respond to his odd request. "It helps us organize ourselves too. Knowing who is home at what time. Venessa and I have always shared schedules. 

Venessa had always been forced to share her schedule, and Harry schedule was none of Vanessa's concern. 

She  nods her head. 

"Ok. No problem. I'll organize a rough draft". A soft smile and then she's disappeared up the stair case.

"Dinner is ready!" Harry's wife called from the kitchen. Her head cold nearly gone. 

She places the baby in it's chair, and Harry takes his seat across from her. 

"Thank you for running to the shop for me this afternoon, honey". She pours him a drink for his hard days work, "i really wasn't feeling up to it". 

" A unmarried mother served me today. With a child no older then ours!". 

"Disgusting" Harry's wife shakes her head. 

They ate dinner as a  nuclear family upholding traditional values within a world gone mad. 

[skyler10fic]

Love at First Snowfall

By Skyler10

Summary:

Daisy's grumbling about having to share a snowy family vacation with another family in their cabin ends suddenly when she meets their gorgeous daughter. Love at first sight might not be real, but this is making a believer out of Daisy. Luckily for her, Carol is a confident woman who goes after what she wants. And what she wants is Daisy. Like the snow outside, these girls are falling hard and fast.

Based on this image prompt from @ficwip

Read on Ao3

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Daisy pulled her parka tighter as she trudged through the snow behind her parents. She was 25 but felt like a teenager, grumbling that snow was stupid and family vacations were stupid and blizzards blocking the driveway up to their cabin were especially stupid. It was cold, dark despite being only 6 p.m., and the groceries she was carrying from the convenience store in the village were threatening to break through their plastic bags. Plus, another family from the Air Force Officer’s Club was coming and sharing the cabin with them. Technically, the Coulsons were in side A and the other family was renting side B of the split duplex, but that side didn’t have any heating, so the three-bedroom three-bathroom side A half of the cabin would have to do for all six of them. 

“Ughhhh,” Daisy groaned as they approached the cabin and discovered the other family had arrived. A burly man with a snow shovel was clearing the driveway for his wife to pull in their giant SUV. Another “ughhh” sounded from the driveway as the door on the far side of the SUV opened and slammed shut. 

“Let me help!” a blonde young woman insisted to the burly man, who could only be her father. 

“I told you to wait in the car,” he insisted. “Young ladies don’t need to be out in this weather.” 

“Dad!” 

The two stopped bickering long enough to notice Phil, Melinda, and Daisy approaching, likely given away by the sound of their boots crunching on the icy snow. 

“Hey! I can grab some of those bags! Oh.” The blonde walked over, then exhaled a puff of white air as she saw Daisy up close.”Hi. I’m Carol.” 

Her rosy cheeks, soft smile, and bright eyes charmed Daisy immediately. “God, please let her be queer,” Daisy prayed to the rainbow gods. 

Carol’s mom turned off the SUV and got out to greet them, and introductions all around set the snowy week in motion. 

“And here we are,” Daisy concluded the short cabin tour for Carol, who plopped her duffle bag on the unclaimed bed. Daisy’s bed, with a view out the window at the snow-draped forest, was already rumpled from the night before. “Um, I hope that dark pink duvet is okay. We washed both when I arrived yesterday, and I took the navy.” 

“I like it.” Carol winked in a way that Daisy didn’t understand. “It suits us.”

“Sorry, what?” Daisy furrowed her brow, not following the reference. 

Carol nodded to the bi flag sticker on Daisy’s laptop, sitting half-open on the bedstand. She then pulled out her phone and lit up the lock screen. A stylized lesbian flag appeared, complete with a stripe so dark pink it was almost maroon, just like the duvet Daisy pulled off the shelf.  

So the sapphic goddesses did answer prayers. 

Daisy cleared her throat. “Oh! And do you have a girlfriend who is going to be jealous of us rooming together?” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Carol answered with a wry smile. “And do you have anyone who—?” 

“No! No,” Daisy clarified hastily. “I’m free. Free as a bird. Single as a … jingle? ANYWAY!” Daisy rushed to make her bed and sat down on it, then got up again abruptly, eyeing the door. 

Carol strategically leaned against the doorframe, casually blocking Daisy’s escape. “My mom tells me you work at Stark Industries too? Shame I haven’t seen you before around the office. Then again, I’m up on the 10th floor with the rest of aerospace.” 

“I… I mostly work from home, or, well, until recently I was in the New York office, but now, I’m not. I mean, I just moved back to Colorado. But I could be in the Denver office now more. Maybe visiting the 10th floor?” Daisy finished and blushed. She wasn’t used to being the flustered one. Usually she held all the cards, batting her lashes and pushing out her cleavage or wearing the perfect dress to make a man putty in her hands. But Carol Danvers was no man. This time it was Daisy fighting desperately for her cool-girl life. 

“I’d like that. That is, if you’re not sick of me after this week,” Carol laughed in self-deprecation. “But I already know you’re a lot nicer to look at than any of the sweaty dudes up there. It’d be a nice change of pace.” 

“I think there was a compliment in there?” Daisy laughed. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome.” Carol gave her a cheeky once-over to make the flirtation clear. 

Daisy’s heart skipped. “You know that officers’ dinner gala thing our parents have to go to on Wednesday night at the ski resort?” 

Carol rolled her eyes and her smile fell. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” 

“What if we stayed here instead? Made dinner together and got to know each other better?” Daisy held her breath as she waited for an answer.

“Hell yes.” Carol sighed in relief. “I hate those things.” 

The night of the gala, the girls got dressed up anyway after the parents left. They ate dinner by candlelight, after lying to their parents that they were too tired from skiing and just wanted a “cozy girls’ night in.” While their parents assumed they were watching trashy TV and heating up a frozen pizza in their PJs, they were really having their first date. 

Though they had only known each other a few days, their chemistry was instant. Love at first sight might be a myth, as true love grows over time with emotional intimacy and investment, but desire at first sight is as real as the sudden blanket of snow on a winter morning, fresh and sparkling with possibility. 

Sometimes that pure desire is tarnished with exploration, but for Daisy and Carol, it grew with each moment. By the end of the week, they were waking up with limbs entangled under the navy duvet, watching the snowfall replenish itself to brave the light of a new day.  

[mendesficsxbombay]

your boyfriend is...(II)| s.m

part 1 here

I had received requests for a part two of this fic which happens to be the most loved one so far so here you go! I hope you like it!

He sees white. 

There’s white sand, he thinks it’s sand, and curtains billowing over it. He sees a large wooden cabana, steps leading up to it, the steps are white, the pillars are white. He hears the sound of water somewhere. 

Turning around, he sees waves crashing into the sand, can water be white? The sunset is almost as beautiful as the day he saw her the first time, splatters of pink and violet and orange. The sky is the only pop of colour he thought he needed. 

There’s a carpet leading up to the cabana, white, of course, and large vases lined along it, there are white flowers - petunia, daisy, wisteria, large streams of flowers hanging from the ceiling of the cabana. He sees his friends dressed in white suits, his dad in a white tux, too and he smiles thinking of how perfect it all looks. His mother stands with her mother, both wearing white flowers in their hair, it looks beautiful on them. A hand touches his back, and he knows it’s her. 

He turns around to take her in his arms, he could look at her forever. Glowing, flushed and smiling up at him. He leans down to kiss her but she pulls away, “Wake up, baby.”

“Huh?”

“Wake up, Shawn it’s 9 and you have to be in the studio in an hour.”

He sees white again, but this time it’s the comforter wrapped around him, it’s her silk dress shirt and the headband she chose for the day, it’s her laptop case she is currently packing away and the large photo frame behind her, holding a photo of theirs. 

“What?”

“Wow, you did sleep well, huh? It’s Tuesday, babe you need to be at the studio at 10 and you asked me to wake you up before I leave.”

He checks for the rings on her hands, just the set of gold bands she always wore. Huh. She must’ve taken off the ones he gave her. 

“I don’t know what time I’ll be back today so please don’t forget your keys, actually you know what I’ll just,” she links his house keys with his car keys, “there, now you won’t forget it.”

Pleased with herself she walks over to him again, she kisses him lightly on the cheek, mindful of the deep marsala shade of lipstick she is wearing, “I love you, have the best day at work,” she pulls away smiling. 

“Babe, where’s your ring?”

She looks at him in confusion - “What ring?”

“You know, the ring?” 

She looks down at her hands in confusion - what ring? Oh, wait, he’s probably asking about my mom’s ring, she thinks to herself. What a thoughtful boy. 

“Oh, that’s tucked away in our closet, don’t worry. I gotta leave now, bye bubs!”

And she’s gone. It looked like a flash of white, his mind still hazy. Was it because he got high before sleeping last night? That couldn’t be it, right? 

He sighs while moving sluggishly to sit up, rubbing his eyes and willing the sleep to go away. He slept for over 10 hours and still felt exhausted, it worried him to think about what it would be like when he they actually get down to planning the wedding - god forbid that coincides with planning for his tour. How would he do it all? It seemed impossible, he should’ve proposed a long, long time ago, should’ve done it as soon as the last tour got over, no wait he should have proposed in the middle of his tour, and got married as soon as tour got over. Then they would already be married right now and she would wear the ring all the time. He’s just stupid thats all he is, really. 

He pulls himself over the side of the bed, laying his feet into the plush white, faux fur carpet she insisted on getting when they moved in. The carpet was one of the better decisions she had made and he silently thanked her each time he walked over it. We should have carpets like this at the wedding. 

In no time he was carried away with thoughts about the wedding again, the location, the invitations, her outfits, his outfits, the honeymoon, but the dull vibrations of his phone on the nightstand pulled him to reality. It was her. 

“Hi baby”

“Did you shower yet?”

“…No.”

“You are going to be so late, please go shower, please.”

She acted like such a wife already. The wife of his dreamiest dreams. “Yes ma’am,” he grinned into the phone, getting out of bed and heading to their en suite. 

_______________________________ 

He pulls himself up to the door after yet another strenuous day at the studio. He had to FaceTime his label executives in New York and LA, scheduling meetings for the coming week and still having to figure a way to finish the day’s task list. He unlocks the door and steps inside, a dull headache working its way in. Shawn toes his shoes off and lightly kicks them in line with hers to make them look neat and finally walks into their living room. 

She’s cuddled into the blanket they thew over the couch for times when they needed a binge watch, her hair pulled into a loose braid and glasses perched on her nose. She notices him walk in slowly, pulls the blanket off herself, getting covered by him instead. Smiling to herself she pulls the blanket over both of them again, her hands weaving through his curls softly, aware of how many times he must’ve tugged and ran his hands through it during the day. 

“How was it today?” She asks, careful of how soft she spoke. 

He mumbles something along the lines of being tired and getting 3 songs finished and having ideas for a few more. He moves on top of her, turning his head and adjusting himself so he could face outwards, lightly taking in her post shower scent. Vanilla and roses. Roses remind him of the floral arrangement for their wedding again. He figures he should let her decide this bit. 

“What do you think about wisteria and white roses for the wedding?” He mumbles, she only gets the names of the flowers, nothing else. 

“As flowers? I think they’re great! There’s dinner in the kitchen, I can heat it up if you want.”

“I’m thinking of lots and lots of wisteria, what an underrated plant…”

“baby did you smoke up again? I hope you didn’t drive in this condition.”

“No I didn’t, why’d you ask that?” He’s so sleepy he can barely get the words out but she hears him, shushes him because if he gets worked up now he won’t be falling asleep anytime soon. 

“Okay I’m sorry, but do you want food right now though? Or do you want to wake up in the middle of the night again when you’re hungry?”

“Cocoa.”

“What?”

“I want cocoa.”

“It’s kinda hot to be drinking cocoa, bud.”

“Turn up the cooling then, and please make me some cocoa, I love you.”

She had to bite back a laugh. Sleepy Shawn wasn’t too far off from Drunk Shawn except when he was sleepy he liked the quiet, and when he was drunk he absolutely needed to scream everything, all wide eyed and overly gesticulative. She had her fair share of experience with both, and asking for hot chocolate the way her mum makes it was basically code for exhaustion like he hadn’t felt in a while. She slowly picked both of them up from the comforts of the couch and led him into the kitchen. She welcomed the feeling of cold marble under her feet, like she said it was summer and her snacks usually included ice creams and popsicles these days. 

He sat himself by the kitchen island, propping his head on his hands and watching her putter around putting together his favourite drink, her body nearly working on out pilot when she mixed the cocoa powder and brown sugar, he’s convinced she could make it with her eyes closed. 

“baby,” he called out, still just as soft, he didn’t have the energy for anything more than a whisper now. She hummed in response, not paying much mind, because he often called out to her out of habit, not purpose. 

“Listen, please,” he pouted because she hadn’t turned around to see him yet. 

“I’m listening, baby.”

“We should have cocoa at the wedding.”

“What?”

“I said, we should ha-”

“No, I heard you but hot chocolate isn’t exactly a wedding drink, I’ve never had it at a wedding?”

“Who cares about others? It could be our wedding drink.”

She felt a spark of heat starting in her chest and working towards her cheeks. Our wedding? She loved how casually he spoke about their future, like it wasn’t something he had to give too much of a thought to - it’s just a thing that’s meant to happen. She silently crushed some pieces of chocolate onto both their mugs as a topping, they weren’t the biggest fans of cream of any sort in their drinks and thought of how she would never want them to change, and how there’s no one else she’d rather make cocoa for at midnight on a Thursday. 

He was the purest person she had had the pleasure of knowing in her life, barely any malice and a heart full of respect and love for anyone that came across him. It hadn’t been easy, loving him, she’d been burned before and who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same to her? But now that she thought of the years they’d spent together and the moments they created in this very house and multiple places across the world, she wouldn’t mind being burned again if it meant she still got to keep him. Forgiveness didn’t come easy but with him it came like second nature. 

She turned around to place both their mugs on the island letting out a silent laugh at the image of her very tall, very lanky boyfriend passed out on the platform, head supported by both his arms. She wished the album would wrap up soon, the creative process had really taken a toll on him and he looked more and more worn out everyday. As much as it was his job, it was her job to look out for him too.  

Softly running her hand over his hunched back on her way out, she picked up his phone from where they it on the couch. Swiping it open, she pulled up his group chat with the writers and producers he was currently working with, shooting them a text that he wasn’t feeling too well and they should hold off recording for the next 2 days. 

Feeling accomplished, she looked back at where he was now snoring on the counter, she thought of if and when he would choose to slow down his career if they wished to be married. Maybe it was too early for her to be thinking so, hell, they hadn’t even proposed to each other yet. And if and when a wedding successfully goes through, they would still have a whole life ahead of themselves to plan things. To date, he’d gone above and beyond to make sure she was alright with the pace at which he was moving, and where they stood as a couple and just making sure that she was okay, and she knew for sure that he would continue doing the same for as long as they were together, it’s just a part of who he was, especially around her. 

She walked over to him, gently prodding him awake and watching him chug down the hot chocolate like his life depended on it. She smiled the whole time they went back to their room and finished their night routines and snuggled up in bed. If this was what the rest of her life looked like, she wouldn’t even mind running at the same pace as him. 

__________________

He has a Pinterest board dedicated to their wedding. They’re nearing the end of his fourth studio album fast, and each time they take a break he is glued to his phone and Saving and Moodboarding things for the ceremony. Teddy warned him that if he asked her to pick between an arched altar and a slightly more arched altar, she would leak his album. It’s not her fault they all look the same no matter how much he wanted to fight her on it. 

He’s currently swiping through decor options for their afterparty when he sees it. He’s not sure what a dress is doing in the middle of photos of rounded tables and helium balloons but he swears his mouth goes dry thinking of her in that dress. It’s a vision in gold, intricate embroidery on the sleeveless bustier, two tuck lines running down the front and a cinched waist that flairs out into the most beautiful ball gown he’s seen till date. And he’s seen a lot of them, he has a board to show for it. 

He takes a screenshot and sends it to her. 

From Shawn: Hi, I hope you’re having a good day at work so far, I saw this dress and I think it’d be perfect for the afterparty (attachment: 1 image)

Halfway across the city, she was on her break at work, deep in conversation with Tiffany, yes Shawn’s stylist Tiffany, about outfit choices for the GRAMMYs in the coming few days. Shawn wasn’t performing this year, so it wasn’t as stressful of a time as it would’ve otherwise been. She had shortlisted 2 outfits with Tiff earlier, now wondering if she even needed 2. Tiffany said she’d need an hour or so to figure how she could layer her evening gown and then use the same for the afterparty, she hated having to go back and change even if Shawn wanted to.    

She was about to resume work when a notification lit up her phone.  Reading Shawn’s texts, she paused in confusion, wondering why he was sending her dress recommendations when she was already talking to Tiffany. Tapping on the link anyway, she is led to an ethereal gown, the kind that she’s convinced only exist online and not in real life. She may have even let out a blissed out sigh, the aesthetic experience running sparks through her heart and mind, imagining herself in a dress so god sent, but where would she wear it? 

The realisation cuts her supply of serotonin real quick, reminding her that absolutely no occasion she had been invited to thus far was worth an outfit like that. 

To Shawn: Hi baby, I miss your face, only 4 hours till I see you! 

  very pretty dress. where would I wear it?

Meanwhile he’d returned to piecing random chords on his guitar together. Shawn perked up to see her reply. He quickly held his pick between his lips, picking his phone up to text back. 

From Shawn: afterparty??

also 

4 hours 2 go. . see u soon 

* see you at home 

❤️

Why would she wear something so good to a GRAMMY afterparty? Like yes, don’t get her wrong, they’re important and all, but just like Bong Joon-Ho believed the Oscars were very local, she thought the GRAMMYs had limited taste when it came to artists. Yes, the world would be watching, and this would be her first ever appearance with him as his girlfriend but she didn’t want to stress herself over how she looked or acted. The show hadn’t awarded her man’s album with the recognition it deserved, she hadn’t forgotten. And so, she was treating the GRAMMYs like no big deal, just a slightly big deal. 

She wanted the night to be about him. Even if it would be their first time on a red carpet together, she would not be stealing his spotlight in any way, thank you very much. And if that meant rejecting this gorgeous gown that would make her look like a bronzed angel that descended straight from heaven, then so be it. 

She looked around her office, people returning to their desks from all over, lunch time coming to a close and her time to get back to work coming closer, she needed to tell him why the dress was not happening when Tiffany finally texts her back. 

Dress is sorted. Sending you photos once I put it together, found a way to only give you one outfit for the night :) 

The smile growing across her face should be worrying, really. She messages a quick thank you, you’re the best, Tiff!!! before opening up her chat with Shawn. 

Afterparty dress is taken care of bubs, nothing to worry xx

See you at home 😘

______________________________

When Shawn calls her giddy and breathless, she drops all her work immediately. 

The album, baby it’s done! We just cut the final- yeah it’s my girlfriend hold on- baby we just cut the final song I needed and it’s over just - no we’ll all go out in a few days, yeah? I just really need to be home with her tonight, thanks man, yeah so I was saying, it’s done I’m wrapping up and I’m coming home, jaan. I love you.

 Her good credit in her company allowed her to immediately intercom her boss and say there’s a family emergency, nothing too serious but she needed to head home right away. On the way she picks up whatever she can remember she needs for their meal, a bottle of Cliquot, Rosé, of course, a few slices of his favourite cheesecake and a bouquet of fresh flowers - a colourful mixture Carnations and Lillies and she smiles just thinking about a bouquet so similar given to her when he asked her to be his. 

It’s not until she’s back to the house does she realise that he passed up on drinks with his music friends (yes she does still call them that) for an immediate post album celebration and chose to spend the night in with her. God, could he get anymore perfect. Tonight felt like the night, the night, and if she did manage to pull through with the plan she put together in the short 20 minute drive, it would definitely be a night to remember. 

Entering their home she gets to work quickly, setting the flowers up on their dining table and stowing away the champagne and cheesecake in the refrigerator to cool down. She doesn’t know exactly how much time she has till he gets home, and the dish she felt most prepared to make was Pesto Chicken, having the side dishes in mind already, and body working on auto pilot from there on. 

While her meal bakes in the oven she brings out the fine China, determined to make the real thing look and feel as perfect as the image in her mind. Once the table is set up she moves around the couches in the living room for when they will inevitably end up there to watch something, anything, to end their night, or continue their night, if you know what I mean. 

As she’s fluffing out her blanket next to his, the lights running low and candles lit all over the place, he unlocks the door to let himself in. The smell of a slow roast hits him before anything else, his eyes running over the place to see her as soon as they could. 

She hears him come in before she sees him, hears the sound of his keys jingling and the soft pad of him taking his trainers off. She whips around and practically flies across the room into his arms. He’s more prepared, though, immediately swinging her up and spinning her around laughing freely as she squealed incoherence into his neck. Once he hoisted her up and round his waist he finally grabbed her face to kiss her like she deserved. She hummed into his mouth, wrapping herself around him tighter and finally getting a taste of what she missed these last few days. He smelled like cinnamon and tasted like happiness and love and warmth and she couldn’t seem to get enough. 

In a bit he sets her back on her feet but refuses to pull away from her. She’s giggling against his lips about dinner and a celebration and he’s never felt more loved. He does still manage to keep her in place and kiss her a bit longer, though, and she lets him because it’s what he deserves. 

When she asks why he did not go out with the boys tonight he just shrugs. She offers for him to meet them wherever they are after dinner he just says no again. When she asks why, he says the album they just finished was about her and he needed to spend this night with his muse because it was the only thing that felt right. She was too giddy to bother arguing back. 

She’s already set the table, ready to bring out the food when he shyly asks her if they can go change into their pyjamas. When she says yes and is about to run up to their room to change, he further asks if they can sit on their living room floor instead of their dining table. A small voice in her head reminds her of the time they made out on his living room floor the first time she came over and got drunk. Nothing else had happened that night, and he initially refused to even kiss her for fear of taking advantage of their sobriety or the lack thereof but she convinced him that it would be compensation. In retrospect, she’s thankful that they didn’t take things further because that was definitely a night to remember, the memory still makes her blush. 

When he goes to freshen up in their washroom, she’s changing into her fluffiest pair of pyjamas and an old t-shirt of his. Her pyjamas thankfully came with pockets, and she quickly went over to her vanity and stuffed a tiny packet in. She’d had it for nearly two months now, but tonight was it. 

When they go back down and stuff their faces with chicken, the best in all of North America, babe, as he says, she keeps looking over at him. He finally looks relaxed after months, he’d been frustrated trying to write new songs on the road and when he thought he had things figured out, he jumped straight into the studio to bring them to life. Essentially, he hadn’t given himself a break, which had led to a fight between the two of them. She’d been patient and tried to talk things out so as to not resort to a screaming match, but he refused to listen. Probably the Leo in him. 

The most she could convince him to do was be home before 1 AM. His girlfriend imposed a curfew on him, and he darn well follow it if he still wanted to have a girlfriend. 

Seeing him eat his meal while happily chatting about his day, she kept thinking of how perfect her life felt at the minute. When they popped champagne and he insisted they drink straight from the bottle, she thought of the few flaws of his she’d learned over the years and how she could bear to romanticise them if it meant she got to keep him forever. She couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather be sat with on her living room floor, tipsy off the bubbly and munching on fresh cheesecake, stealing kisses in between. It felt right. 

He looked away from her to check his phone, text his friends back and she sets her phone on the closest console table to record the moment. Crawling back to him, she takes his fork and plate out of his hands and he smirks thinking she’s about to have the first round of the night right there. 

“Starting already, then?” He mumbles as he leans in to kiss up her neck when she scoffs and pushes him away lightly. “chill, horndog, I need to talk to you about something.”

He immediately straightens up, bracing himself for whatever is about to come. She runs her hand through his hair while his eyes cross the length of the room, knowing she sometimes needs a minute to collect her thoughts. When she inhales sharply, he knows she’s ready. 

He turns towards her so she knows she has his full attention, their hands intertwined and hanging between them. She purses her lips, sends a prayer up to God and begins.

“So um, the first time we spoke, I thought you were the dreamiest boy I’d ever seen. Um, I still think you are.” His heart warms at her being nervous, knowing she doesn’t have to be around him and tries to ignore the heat in his face. 

“See, we didn’t really know each other did we? So whatever little image I had of yours in my head was based on small talk and your devastatingly good lo- stop smiling, your below average looks, and how you desperately failed at trying to hit on me, but it it was only a matter of time till we got talking more often when you went away for tour - and I think I really appreciate it sometimes that your tours, like, no matter how long or short they are, they give us a chance to talk, you know?”

He’s not sure where this is going. The confusion is visible on his face but she keeps going. It’ll all be worth it. “Other couples don’t get to have that, Shawn. I know they’re always with each other and I know we’d both appreciate more time together when we’re physically together but being away from you makes me… introspect. It makes me want to learn things about you, it makes me want to know you because there’s never enough things to know about you, and the more I know, the more I love.” She moves closer now, cupping his cheeks and he leans into her hands, still confused as ever but letting her take what she needs from him. 

“After you came back from your first full length tour after we got together, I wrote in my journal that I would never take my time with you for granted.” His heart fluttered a little, writing in her journal meant making promises to herself, and she never went back on them. He’d never read any of her journals, he was nosy, yes, but not invasive. He wouldn’t break her trust like that. He also knew she wrote about him, he’d seen her peaking at him while writing, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but he did, he always did. 

“I’d never really had a serious relationship with anyone before you, you knew that. I mean, I just didn’t think I was special enough to hold someone down, or have my person, it just wasn’t plausible, right? And you know how Khalid said I never had someone to call my own, that was me pretty much my whole life, but then you swooped in with your guitar and you wanted to take me to all your favourite places and make me meet your friends and then you wanted to meet mine and by our third month together you started writing songs about me and I couldn’t believe that someone would want to write a song about me you know? Cause like I’m just me? But you did, a-”

“That was a lie.”

“What?”

“I didn’t write about you for the first time in our third month. I only told you that because I didn’t want to come off too strong, we were still pretty new to each other. But the first song I ever wrote about you was after our first date. Well, I started writing it after our first date but it was completed after you so painfully rejected me after the second one. I moped for a week straight, babe, you were pretty heartless.”

She doesn’t speak for a second, she doesn’t know what to say, really. Her speech that she prepared for this occasion was pretty self derogatory, she realised. And now he was throwing her off kilter, making her forget the script in mind.  “You wrote a song about me after the first time you took me out?” 

“Yeah,” he said resting his hand by her neck now and running his thumb over her cheek. His gaze grew softer, “And now I’ve written two whole albums about you. But they don’t feel enough. I don’t think they ever will be, honestly. I could write a thousand songs about you and they wouldn’t do you justice. I love you more than anything, I think I always have.”

And all of a sudden, she’s forgotten everything she wanted to say. She always did think she got lucky with him, she had a loving, caring boyfriend who respected her wishes no matter what and worked hard come hell or high water to make himself better at his art. She thought about how she was a part of his art, she thought about the one time he said that each time she proved to be his muse, the result was somewhat a tribute to their love. How fortunate could they be to have each other? And now, looking at him in the softest sleep shirt he had, a little loopy because of the champagne after a long day of working hard, there’s so much she wants to say. But the words don’t make themselves known, instead she blurts out - “Marry me.”

He smiles lightly, “Okay.”

“No for real, hold on,” she holds his shoulder to lean up, then steadies herself on one knee, pulling out the Carbon Fibre ring that had her heart since the first time she saw it, a solid black with two thin gold lines weaving around it. Her hand is held up between the two of them so he can see the ring, “Shawn Mendes, will you make me the happiest girl in the world, and marry me?”

Holy shit. He hasn’t proposed. 

It finally pieces together in his head. In this midst of finishing the album and planning the next step for his music, he’d forgotten to propose to her. But he swears he remembers doing it - or was it all in his head? He rushes to stand up mumbling no no no to himself and her eyes follow follow him around, her hand lowering as the fear of the worst takes over. No?

At once his head looks upwards, where their room is, and he runs off. She can’t quite grasp what just happened. She flips the ring over in her hand, finding the tiny engraving of their initials on the inside of the 22K band, thinking of the day she was so happy to have found it, and how it was probably for nothing now. Why would he say no?

They’d talked about marriage so openly, he was the one who kept bringing it up - so why run away now? Was he not ready? Or had he changed his mind? Was it too soon? Or too late? Did he not want marriage anymore? She felt tears sting her eyes - did he not want her anymore? That wasn’t possible was it? He literally just told her he loved her - or did he not actually mean it? Why would he say it if he didn’t mean it? Did this mean they were over now?

She looked over to where she had propped up her phone earlier, the video still recording. She had plans of adding this clip into her next video, after their trip to the Portugal next month. She had wanted to record her proposal instead she may have just recorded their breakup, now that would get her some views, huh?

Upstairs, Shawn let out an aha! finally finding the small velvet box that he had stored away carefully - so carefully that he needed to empty out half his drawer to find it again. He bounded down the stairs, screaming BABY THIS WAS WHAT I WAS FORGETTING only to find her kneeling on the floor right where he left her. She looked small and sad, stray tears finding their way down her cheeks. 

“Baby w-what’s wrong?”

She didn’t notice the velvet box in his hand till he kneeled down in front of her. “I thought you said no… I thought you didn’t want this - what’s that, Shawn?”

He claps a hand over his forehead, frustrated with himself for upsetting her so much and so quick. “I just happen to be stupid, babe, I’m sorry, I forgot to propose.” Then he’s flipping open the box, throwing it back to let it land somewhere on the carpet after having taken the diamond ring out. It’s the exact width she likes, the exact cut she likes, and it is so beautiful. 

“How do you forget-”

“But! I am doing it now! I may be stupid but you’re the one who chose to stick by me so that makes two of us! Please marry me?”

“I asked you first.”

“God, yes that’s all I ever wanted, yes yes - a thousand times, love,” he rushes to kiss her, and she smiles into it again, pulling away and slipping the ring onto his finger. 

He’s the one who’s teary eyed now, a wet smile growing bigger and bigger. “It’s so beautiful, doll, I love you.”  She kisses him again, once, twice, she would’ve done more but he pulls away again. “Okay, your turn now - what’s the answer?”

“Hmm… I don’t know I mean you did forget to propose after all…” he stares at her for a second before saying humming and attacking her with tickles. She squeals out falling to the floor in a fit of giggles, trying and failing to fight him off. “Not gonna stop till you say yes, doll.”

He’s laughing, too, clearly enjoying her misery. He hears her let out a breathy little yes while he’s still running his fingers up her sides. “What’s that? Did you hear something? Because I didn’t!”

“Yes, sheesh YES I WILL MARRY YOU, SHAWN! Please stop!” He pulls her up, quickly slipping on the ring and gathering her in his arms, burying his face into her neck, finally crying out freely. Everything felt complete, finally, he couldn’t wait to start this new stage of his life with her. He was going to be a married man soon, nobody pinch him. 

“Wait,” she speaks, pushing him away a bit so she can see his face, “Is this why you kept talking about the wedding? You were talking about our wedding this whole time?”

“Yes, I know I get it I’m forgetful! I guess, I was so caught up in what was happening and what I wanted that I mixed the two.” He sighs, a little hazy after the sharp turn of events in the night. “Wow, I wish we had recorded this, I can’t believe you thought I said no to you, baby who do you think I am?”

“Already one step ahead of you - say hi to the camera!” She grins, pointing to her phone next to them. He lets out an of course you would and she only laughs in response and he decides that he needs to hear that for the rest of the life if possible. He looks into the camera and sees an image of them both looking like a hot mess, kneeling in the middle of their living room, faces flushed and eyes bright because of the cry fest that just took place. 

“Hi guys, we’re engaged!” And she lets out a yelp showing off her hand to the screen. “Shawn Mendes isn’t my boyfriend anymore, he’s my fiancé! There should be a new filter!”

“Wait, does this mean we get cocoa at our wedding now?”

__________________

taglist: @shawnwyr​ @mendesstories​ @lanallaa​ @sleepybesson​ @rulerofnocountry​ @luvluvxx​ @wholesomemendes

dm to be added or removed ♥️

[iceeckos12]

dont spare the horses

Summary: Jon and Martin get domestic. The next logical step is to adopt some cattle.

did i write jonmartin fluff of post-159? I did! spoilers for 159 and everything that happens after. canon divergence after 160. warnings for attempted selfharm.

title is taken from ‘home’ by bruno major.

“How much work is it,” Martin wonders, “To take care of cattle?”

Jon lowers the book he’s reading so he can study Martin’s face. Jon is sitting on one end of the couch, and Martin is leaning against the arm, his feet propped up on Jon’s lap. Jon knows and he Knows what Martin’s face looks like, but it doesn’t hurt to study it again, just in case he’s missed any important details. Like the freckle under Martin’s right eye.

Then Jon remembers that he’s just been asked a question, and his partner is probably expecting for him to take advantage of the remnants of his Beholding powers to answer. Jon closes his eyes and reaches for the embers of it, slowly smoldering away in his soul. It gets harder and harder to find it each time. He thinks that it’s a good thing.

(Sometimes he misses the constant flow of information, the high of all the knowledge in the world at his fingertips.)

He sifts for a couple of seconds through useless information—the Highland cattle breed is the oldest registered breed in the world, happy cows make more milk—before finding what he’s looking for. He sighs and looks up into Martin’s expectant, cow-brown eyes and says, “They’re relatively low maintenance, apparently. I think they require a bit more space than we currently own, though.”

Martin hums and lowers his head to his laptop, apparently satisfied with that answer. Jon watches him for another second, before leaning back into the couch and finding where he’d left off on the page.

It’s not long before Martin speaks again. “How much do you think this safehouse would fetch?”

Jon doesn’t have to be an avatar of omniscience to know where this conversation is going, and how it will end. He would be happy to live out the rest of his days in quiet contentment in their cozy little safehouse, reading his books while Martin publishes award-winning poetry (he feels a little bit like a trophy wife, if he’s being honest. He finds that he doesn’t mind it in the slightest). But if Martin wants to move to somewhere with wide open spaces so they can raise herds of adorable little cows, then Jon will do what he can to make it happen.

Jon closes the book and squeezes Martin’s ankle. “I don’t think we’re allowed to sell Daisy’s safehouse without her permission. Do you want to call her or should I?”

Martin beams at Jon, and Jon thinks that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make Martin look at him like that again.

-0-

In the end, it’s Basira that saves them.

Three weeks into their stay at the safehouse, they’re woken by a phone call at two in the morning. Jon lets out a confused sound and makes to get out of bed, but Martin shushes him and tucks the blanket over his shoulders, and tells him to go back to sleep. The lack of statements has made Jon weak and tired, and sleep is more important than it ever has been.

Martin picks up the phone. The dirt in the floorboards is rubbing against his feet, and he’s still getting used to the way a chill seems to permeate the entire building in the middle of the night.

“Hello?” Martin murmurs, voice quieted by both his desire not to wake Jon and his proximity to sleep.

“Martin, is that you?” Basira asks, and there’s something in her voice that makes him stand straight up and pay attention. Something is wrong. “It’s Basira.”

“Uh, hi Basira,” Martin pushes his hair back from his face, flicking a gaze into their darkened bedroom. Should he wake Jon? “Something the matter?”

“I put together a bunch of statements for Jon, like I promised,” Basira begins, and there’s a soft rustle in the background. Paper? “I found something.”

Martin sits down slowly, finding and squeezing the edge of the small cardtable that they’ve been eating their meals at the past couple of weeks. “Okay…?”

“Elias—no,” Basira lets out a low, shuddering sigh. “Jonah was going to use Jon to start the apocalypse”

“What?” Martin gapes.

Basira’s voice is shaking slightly, cut through with horror. Martin has never heard her like this, not even when Daisy went missing. “He’s had everything planned right from the beginning—Prentiss, Sasha, whatever the fuck happened to his hand—he was planning on turning Jon into some—some sort of ritual to end the world—”

Martin thinks about the man lying in their bed, made small and terrified by repeated exposure to a world that made him very, constantly afraid. He thinks about the slow spiral, the hunger that ate at what was left of Jon’s humanity, piece by bloody piece. He squeezes the table, and imagines Jonah Magnus’ thrumming pulse beneath his fingertips. “Basira—”

“I wouldn’t have noticed,” she sounds tired, thready, “But there was a spider sitting in the middle of the page, and it drew my attention, and I read—”

“Did you burn it?” Martin demands, the world tilting on its axis like a top. If Basira didn’t burn it, then he will go to London himself.

“Of course I did,” Basira says, and Martin lets out his breath. “Of course I burned it. But Martin, you have to be careful.”

“We will,” he whispers. “You as well.”

“And tell Jon that I’m sorry,” she adds, and then hangs up the phone.

Martin lets the hand holding the phone fall to his thigh. His world is still spinning about him, thoughts jumbled and hazy and all he can think about is that stupid fucking birthday party, where Elias had sang ‘Archivist’ instead of Jon, and Martin hadn’t thought anything of it.

God. Jon.

Martin drops the phone and walks to the doorway of their bedroom, examining the small lump under the blankets. Jon’s long, black-and-grey hair is fanned out over the pillow, and his hands are curled into fists. His face is smooth, free of stress and fear, and for a moment Martin burns at the thought of Jonah Magnus, who’d looked at this nervous, bright man and thought, I will destroy the world with you.

If Jonah was here, Martin thinks, fingers twitching.

But then he sighs, because while Jonah Magnus is not here, Jon is. He comes around to his side of the bed and lifts the covers, sliding in beside Jon, who lets out a fuzzy, confused sound and rolls toward him.

“What was it?” he asks sleepily.

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his, rubbing his thumbs over the scarred knuckles, and says, “Nothing. Sleep. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

-0-

“What do you think about chickens?” Jon asks Martin.

Martin looks up from the flower he was admiring and blinks. It’s a perfect day for once, no clouds on the horizon, and the breeze has picked up just enough to be refreshing. The meadowgrass is soft and forgiving beneath their hesitant footsteps as they stroll arm-in-arm through the fields.

“Well, I mean…” Martin wrinkles his nose endearingly. “I’ve heard that chickens are kind of mean, actually.”

“Not quite as good as cows,” Jon agrees, “But it’d be nice not to have to buy eggs. And we have the space for it, now. We wouldn’t have to get too many.”

Martin studies him, as though searching for some ulterior motives. It’s different from the way people used to look at him at the archives, when that sort of suspicion is warranted. It’s almost playful, a warm smile teasing at one end of his lips. “Is there a particular reason why you want chickens?”

“Well…” Jon frowns, now trying to decide whether or not his reasoning for wanting chickens is embarrassing.

They have a real cottage now, rather than the rickety old safehouse. It’s warm and cozy, with clean white walls meant to be filled with photographs, and thick carpets that are wonderful to wiggle your toes on. More importantly, they are now the proud owners of a few acres of land, perfect for raising lazy herds of cattle.

“It’s just—when you’re raising farm animals,” Jon begins carefully, “I thought it was...standard to have chickens around as well.” It made sense, the way arithmetic made sense. One plus two equals three. People who raise farm animals have chickens, even if they’re not technically a chicken farm.

Martin lets out a light, surprised laugh, his hand finding Jon’s. “Jon do you—do you actually want chickens because you want chickens, or do you want chickens because you like the idea of having chickens?”

Jon feels a flush rise in his cheeks, but he stands his ground. “It’d be useful to have a bunch of chickens around.”

Martin shakes his head and presses a warm, fond kiss to Jon’s temple, like he simply can’t help himself. Jon tightens his hand around Martin’s. “Alright then,” Martin says, “We can get some chickens as well. On the condition that I don’t have to take care of them.”

“Come on,” Jon laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t be mean to my chickens.”

“These are still metaphorical chickens,” Martin corrects. “Who I will not defend you from if they decide to turn on you.”

“Liar,” Jon shakes his head again and smiles, and tucks his arm in Martin’s. They continue ambling onward, the scent of rain and fresh earth rising in the air around them.

-0-

Understandably, Jon does not take it well.

Martin is quiet as Jon falls apart, piece by piece, bit by painful bit. He is quiet as Jon grabs at his hair and makes muffled, heartbroken sounds into his knees, when he reasons out loud with himself, with Jonah. It���s only when Jon grabs a knife and almost gouges his own eyes out that Martin finally intervenes, wrestling the knife from Jon’s grip. Jon collapses into Martin’s lap, weeping, and Martin is crying too, just like he knew he would be if he spoke out loud.

Jon falls asleep against Martin. Martin doesn’t dare move, even when his whole body is screaming at the position.

Martin grimly screens all of their mail after that, every transcript that comes into their house. Jon is a skittish thing, hovering at the edges of the room as Martin scans page after page, starving but terrified of the idea of posing a danger to the world.

He tries to wean himself off the statements as best he’s able. At first he records once every couple of days, then once every four, going as long between each read as he can stand. Martin wishes that he knew how to soothe the worry, but Jon isn’t the only one recovering from the influence of a fear entity. The Lonely has made it hard for him to talk about things that need to be said.

They figure it out, though. Martin starts writing poetry again, figuring out how to put words to paper, figuring out how to put himself to paper. Jon stops beating himself up for choices he didn’t make and crimes that he didn’t commit. Because what else can they do? Sit still? They just didn’t end the world; it only makes sense that they try to at least enjoy it.

Slowly, they figure it out. 

-0-

And so, Martin and Jon get some cows.

Martin is in charge of naming the cows. The first one they get is an older cow, a sweet, shaggy brown one Martin quickly names Henrietta. Martin is quite taken with her, always rubbing at the white star on her nose. The second one is a bull, a bit younger than Henrietta but no less sweet. He is dubbed Jackson, and he has a particular fondness for butting his head against your shoulder when you’re not paying attention.

Jon is deeply amused by the way Martin fawns over their cows. He rises well before Jon to feed them, and is usually still gone by the time the rest of the world wakes up. Jon can usually find Martin in the field, prattling away to Henrietta and Jackson, who are a surprisingly attentive audience. Sometimes, Martin even reads them some of his poetry.

Jon is quite taken with the cows as well, if he’s being honest. When he sees Martin in the fields in the morning, dew just beginning to burn off the grass, he’ll climb the fence and pat Henrietta’s star, and Jackson will chew lazily on his sleeve. Martin will beam at him, face gently lit in the rising sun.

Jon is, under no uncertain circumstances, in charge of the chickens. He is in charge of figuring out how to put up the chicken coop, putting up the chicken coop, but most importantly, naming the chickens. Jon’s never been good at naming anything, so he secretly picks the names from old statements. Martin thinks it’s hilarious that there are chickens running around with names like ‘Susan’ and ‘Laura’. The big rooster that Jon buys, that runs around and shrieks menacingly at you until you give him a swift kick, is dubbed, ‘Jonah’, because Jon has always been a bit of a bastard.

They still get letters from the Institute. Jon knows that they do, because each time Martin finds one, his face scrunches up with an awful, alien anger. The letter is quickly reduced to ash in their fireplace, though. Basira tells them all they need to know about the Institute these days, and they have better things to do.

-0-

“So what now?” Jon whispers.

Martin looks down at Jon, who is curled as close against Martin’s side as he is physically able. His long, black-grey hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that spills over and down one shoulder, and his glasses are tucked in his collar. Time has done a good job at wearing down some of his hard edges.

Martin tucks Jon’s bangs behind his ear and lets his hand rest there, gently caressing. Jon sighs and covers it with his own, still watching Martin with those dark, expectant eyes. 

“I suppose now…” he trails off, thinking about the Institute, about the safehouse where they now live. Thinking about good cows, and the nightmares they can’t seem to shake, and meadowsweet, and the I love you’s, and the affection so kind that Martin had almost been in tears the first time he felt it.

“I suppose now,” he decides firmly, “we get to live.”

[anotherhystericalqueen]

Somebody to Love

||Joe Mazzello x Reader ||

Part 1

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, idk if this is a warning but it’s gonna be a single dad!Joe fic just so ya know

Moodboard and summary

You were in shock to say the least when you found out that you had qualified for the upcoming Winter Olympics with the US Snowboarding team. Qualifiers were a few weeks ago but the officials explained that they needed to run background checks on all potential Olympians to make sure they were compliant with the International Olympic Committee guidelines. Your final time was by far the fastest out of all your competitors, so you were prepared for the official phone call, but the shock was still there when it was official. 

Needless to say, once the team was announced, you knew your life was never going to be the same, but you couldn’t let that get to you during training. The upcoming games were in Lake Placid, New York, and you knew the mountains there weren’t like the ones you trained on out west. Luckily, your best friend Jade needed a roommate at her new house she was renting in upstate New York. It was close enough to a ski mountain that you could stick to your training regimen your trainer sent, but it also helped you keep somewhat of a normal life.

The first couple of weeks after you moved in, you didn’t really pay attention to the other houses that surrounded yours, or their inhabitants. You would catch small snapshots of their lives during your morning run, but there was one that always caught your eye in the early morning light. 

Every morning, your next door neighbor sat on the front porch of his house with a mug of coffee in hand and a laptop balancing on his lap. Sometimes you’d see him right before you started your route, other times he’d be sitting outside as you finished your cool down lap.  Neither of you knew the other’s name or had an actual conversation with each other, but he was a comforting constant in your life, and if you were being honest, he was pretty cute. His early morning scruff, sleepy eyes, and messy hair gave off a very comforting energy that made him definitely your type. 

On of your rare non-training days, you were working on tuning up some of the boards you were considering bringing with you, as well as some new model boards that your sponsors had sent for. None of them were in racing condition from the recent move and it was getting time to get back out on the slopes. The models were being used for some upcoming photoshoots and needed to be at least in both photograph and riding condition. As you were stripping the spent and peeling wax off of one of your favorite boards, you were too focused to see a small body running towards the makeshift workshop you had set up in your backyard. 

You snapped to attention as you felt a tug on your jeans. A little boy in denim overalls and a striped turtleneck was staring up at you with curiosity.

 “Hi.” 

“Hey there,” You knelt down to his level, not knowing whose kid this was or where he came from. 

“I lost my ball.” He said softly, “I hit it and it’s gone.”

Looking around your workshop, a large yellow softball had appeared next to your racing board that was drying on the rack behind you. You reach over and grab the ball, holding it out to the boy, but before you could ask if it was his, someone called out in your direction. 

“Joey!” You snapped back around to see your cute neighbor running up and scooping the little boy into his arms. “What did I tell you about running off like that?” 

The little boy, who you now knew his name was Joey, hid his face in the man’s maroon sweater. “’m sorry daddy. We lost my ball. Please don’t be mad.”

Joey’s dad laughed. “It’s alright bud, you just scared me a bit. I’m not mad at you.” He turned back to you, “Sorry about that. We were playing in the front yard and this little slugger hit one out of the park. We didn’t mean to disturb you.” His face turned bright red as your eyes met. 

“It’s no problem!” You reassured him, standing back up and brushing the grime off of your hands. “I was just finishing up anyway so he didn’t get into anything. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Joe,” Cute neighbor introduced himself. “And I see you’ve have already met Joey.” The little boy laughed as his dad tickled his middle, it was an infectious laugh because the next thing you knew you were lightly laughing too. Looking at the two of them, you saw that Joey looked like an exact replica as his father, they had the same dark ginger hair and bright hazel eyes. Joey’s nose was a bit smaller than his father, but it was too similar not to say it was the same nose. Looking over his shoulder, you saw a little girl with the same reddish hair in pigtails and a matching overalls and turtleneck outfit as Joey.

“Daddy!” She cried out. “Daddy did you find the ball?” 

“I did Daisy girl.” Joe answered, kneeling down to let Joey down as well as talk to her. “Well, miss Y/N helped me and Joey find it.”

You offered the softball to the little girl. “I believe this is yours.”

The girl, who you guessed was named Daisy, nodded and held onto the ball with both hands. 

“What do we say Day?” Joe said, rubbing her back. 

“Thank you miss Y/N.” She said shyly. 

Joe looked back up to you, once again thanking you for finding their ball and apologizing for Joey accidentally interrupting your work. You watched as he held Daisy’s hand when the three of them back over to their front yard and couldn’t help but smile as you finished working. 

----

Apparently, Jade had noticed the as she called it “mutual pining” that radiated throughout your conversation. That night, she came home with three large bottles of wine and officially declared it a “Jade and Y/N Wine Night.”

Wine night had been a tradition between you and Jade ever since college. It was a night of what Jade described as “No bullshit, lots of wine, and nothing but the truth.”

“So,” Jade slams down bottle #1 on the counter and pulls out her corkscrew. “What is the deal with you and cute neighbor? Don’t tell me all those heart eyes you were making at each other today in the backyard are nothing.” 

You shrugged as you pulled out the extra large wine glasses that Jade had originally gotten you as a joke, but this was a night they would be well used. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Today was the first time that I had actually had a conversation with him, AND he has kids..”

You could feel Jade roll her eyes at you. “Come on Y/N, you know the wine night rules! No bullshit!”

“I’m serious Jade!” You defended yourself, refusing to admit to yourself that she was right. “I have no idea what you are talking about. We haven’t even talked until today, and I definitely didn’t know that he had a kid, let alone two. He’s probably got a girlfriend or a wife or something also.” 

“How do you know that? In all the time that I have lived here I have never seen anyone who would remotely resemble a girlfriend or wife. The only lady I have seen go by his house regularly I am 98% sure is his mom, so go for it.” She explained. “You are a total catch, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

You scoffed and took a long sip of your wine. “He could say no?” 

Suddenly, you saw Jade’s face light up at something going on behind you. You could see Joe in the open window of both your houses. Jade leapt up from her position on your kitchen island to the open window across the living area and abandoned her half full glass with you. 

“Hey!” Jade hung her top half out the window to try and get his attention, “Hey cute neighbor!”

You could feel your face turning red from embarrassment mixed with the half bottle of rose that you had already drank. “Jade!” You hissed, “He’s not gonna answer to cute neighbor!”

“Well what’s his name then?” She not so subtly asked you. 

“My name’s Joe.” You heard a warm voice call out. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N’s roommate.” 

Jade let out a tipsy giggle, “I’m Jade and I know you have already met the lovely Y/N. Come drink with us! We got wine!” 

Joe laughed. It was a warm laugh, just like Joey’s laugh, but deeper and also somehow cuter. “Sounds tempting, but I gotta get my munchkins to bed first. I’ll come by later if you two are still up for it.” 

----

About an hour later, Joe appeared at your doorstep, wearing the same maroon sweater and jeans you saw him in earlier today playing with Joey. Jade handed him a pretty full glass of wine and explained the rules of 

As the night went on, you and Joe were totally lost in conversation, neither of you noticing that Jade had went to bed hours ago. The wine had run out, but the two of you were still talking. 

Joe checked the time on his phone and sighed at how late it was for both of you. “Looks like I should be getting back to the kiddos.” He sighed, pulling himself off the couch. “Tell Jade I said thanks for the invite, I had a lot of fun.” 

“I’ll definitely let her know.” You giggled from the alcohol still buzzing in your system as you stood up from your comfy position next to Joe’s recently vacated seat. “You are a lot of fun to hang out with Joe.”

Joe gave you a soft smile that sent the butterflies in your stomach wild. “You are too, Y/N. I’m happy we met.”

The silence as the two of you walked back to Joe’s was deafening. When the two of you got to the small patch of grass that separated the two houses, you knew neither of you were ready for this night to end. Joe turned to face you, his face inching closer and closer to your own as an unknown force pulled the two of you together. 

The next thing you knew, your lips and his connected. The kiss was soft and natural, like you were made for each other. Joe’s hand snaked around your waist to pull you closer as your arms snaked up his broad chest. You melted into another softer kiss, like he was afraid you were going to disappear on him. 

“Goodnight Y/N” Joe whispered against your lips, going in for one more short and sweet peck before walking back across the yard to his house. 

“Goodnight Joe.” You whispered quiet enough that he couldn’t hear as you returned to your own home. 

As you got comfortable in bed later, you saw a message light up on your phone. “Hey it’s Joe. I had a great time tonight, hope we can do something again soon :)” 

You texted him back almost immediately. “I had a great time too. I’m happy you came over and we got to hang out.” 

That night, you fell asleep still feeling the imprint of Joe’s soft lips on yours.

[composereggwrites]

Love will not break your Heart (but dismiss your Fears)

Chapter 2: just let me go (we'll meet again soon)

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Alice “Daisy” Tonner/Basira Hussain, Gerard Keay, Gertrude Robinson

Additional: Reincarnation AU, Soul Bond, Team as Family, Autistic Jon, Post-Canon Fix-it, Childhood Friends, Hurt/Comfort

They stand in the Panopticon, fire raining down from the sky, as the Eye stares down at them.

Jon takes Martin’s hand in his.

A wedding, a death, a fire, and Tim.

Chapter:  1 | 2 (below)

Ao3: 1 | 2

They stand in the Panopticon, fire raining down from the sky, as the Eye stares down at them.

Jon takes Martin’s hand in his.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Martin?” he asks, one last time, because fear has made a home in his heart. A palace in his bones.

“Jon,” Martin says, looking him in the eyes, so full of determination, filled with warmth, with love. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Sap,” he mutters, but a smile creeps onto his face nonetheless. “We’ve already left the message for the girls, and well… This is really it, isn’t it?”

“Got cold feet?” Martin asks with a laugh.

“Always,” he snorts. “You’ve felt them when we’ve slept. You’re the space heater between the two of us.”

Heart beating in his chest, Jon takes Martin’s hands. The world is crumbling in every direction. A year of this hell has been far too long. Searching, aching for answers, for a way to fix the devastation he has wrought-- no, the devastation Jonah Magnus used him to usher into the world.

Jonah Magnus, who, like the rest of the institute, is no more than a pile of ash at their feet now. Martin had been quite happy to have the honor of setting that blaze.

It’s touching, in a way. Finding the answer on how to set them both free, and Martin chooses to do it for him. No more ash on Jonathan’s hands.

(He’s more than a little fragile, at the end of the world, but he could’ve been the one to do it. The one to bring Magnus to the ground. That he didn’t have to means more than he can express with words. Martin has always been looking out for him, even when he was too much a fool to realize).

The Web’s strings hang heavy in the air around them, coated with the remnants of their old life, of their meeting. But the Mother of Puppets doesn’t have control of all these ties. Jon’s body is linked to everything now, the perfect conduit of fear. The lynch-pin in this hellscape. Take him out, and the rest crumbles. The issue is in managing to kill a near-immortal Archive.

Martin has always been his anchor. He never needed that rib, Jon gets that now. And this is something they can use. Here.

“Martin, I love you,” Jon starts. “You keep me grounded. When I start to fall apart, you hold me together. Even as I dealt with the end of the world rather badly, you drew me back out of my shell. I promise to be at your side forever more, I promise to return the favor. You are not just a caretaker, you deserve to be taken care of, and I will be there for you. I am here, with you, as we stand, united.”

Martin is already tearing up, as his hands shake in Jon’s grasp. “Jon,” he says, with a waver in his voice. “I love you. I know, it was a long time coming. Back when we were both researchers, I thought I could ignore this little crush, because that’s what it was. But you’re so kind, underneath that abrasive exterior. You pretended that nothing could get to you, that you at most tolerated the people around you, but I could see through that.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “I’m with you, until the end of time. I tie myself to you like I’ve done a hundred thousand times before, in less words. In actions. Every step we take together has brought us here, bound to each other at the end of the world, and I wouldn’t do this any other way.”

The strings around them pull taught, smash them together. Jon clings to Martin. Holds him tight as the web holds them tighter. It hurts, the Eye observing this, burning through them as he clings for dear life, but observation just makes it real. The Web tries to resist, but Jon pulls harder, pulls the strings of his own design, and lets them bind.

A thousand stars scream in the sky, but the roar of the still-burning fire is louder. The pounding of his heart in his ears louder still. Or maybe that’s Martin’s. He can’t really tell anymore, as their hearts beat to the same tune, in the same time.

As the pain dies down, he can feel Martin, there in his chest. An ache subdued by his presence at his side. A new hole carved and filled with love, with his anchor.

Jon laughs, hysterical, for just a second. Tears on his cheeks until Martin puts his hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

“Ready for the next step?” Martin asks, worry flooding his voice, and oh, he can feel that in his heart. All the concern for him, bubbling over the edges of the pot. It makes him gasp, legs trembling, and all he can do is grip Martin back. It’s all he can do to not drown in the Tsunami of Martin, the whirlpool with them both at the center.

“Give--Give me a second, yeah?” he whispers. “Don’t tell me when.”

“Oh,” Martin replies, no doubt feeling the outpouring of gratitude. “Yeah, alright.”

They hold each other. Letting the waves of emotion crash down, drowning out the fear, out the pain. Held close together. This is what matters.

Then--

Pain.

Sharp, biting pain. Driven into his chest.

Blood meets his lips as he coughs, his own sharpened rib embedded in his heart, by Martin’s trembling hand.

As Jonathan Sims falls, he holds Martin’s hand, and wishes he could muster the energy to wipe those tears away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers,  as the door in his mind becomes a vacuum, sucking all the fear out of him, waves of love and safety and peace replacing the frostbite of terror. “We’ll meet again, yeah?”

Martin nods. He sits down by Jon, and kisses him, ignoring the iron taste. Ignoring the poison that he takes from Jon’s mouth.

The fire closes in, and consumes them. But there is no fear. No pain.

The world bends.

 Good cows stand in a field, and no Eye bears down from the sky. No people scream in terror on that day.

Four bodies are found dead in The Magnus Institute, and the world dreams of a year that never happened. A year of fear and pain burying itself deep in their hearts.

A year that will never come to pass.

 And Jonathan Barker-King wakes up.

---

Jonathan has always been an odd child.

Georgie and Melanie knew this when adopting him.

But that doesn’t change the fact that one night, when he’s twelve years old, Melanie can feel him shaking her awake.

She rolls over, facing him. “Mm, what is it?” she murmurs, knowing the shaky hands as someone who is afraid.

Jon’s voice is heavy, edged with static, and Melanie wishes she could see his face, as he says, “There will be fire. We need to leave.”

That gets her out of bed, kicking Georgie awake.

“Mel, what’s wrong?” her wonderful, sleepy wife groans.

“Up up up, now! Phone Basira, tell her we don’t know how much time we all have, but we need to go.” She tries to keep her voice level, urgent but hushed.

It gets Georgie up, at least. Springing to her feet. “I’ll get the emergency bags. Fuck. Alright. Guess it couldn’t last forever.”

Melanie makes sure she’s holding Jon’s hand, as she leads him back to his room, digging out the always-packed travel bag hidden there. Filled with clothes and food and money, and for him, some books he’s shoved into it. “Pack up your laptop and anything else you want that will fit, alright?” she says, soft.

“Got it, mom,” he replies. “Go take care of what you need to. I’ll be out in five minutes. That’s the plan, yeah?”

She nods at him. “Very intelligent, you are.”

And then she dashes, grabbing her own bags and the keys, tossing them all in the trunk of the car. Important documents, keepsakes she knows they wouldn’t be able to bear losing, anything irreplaceable. From the the meowing coming from the back seat, it sounds like Georgie had managed to catch The Admiral and bundle him into the cat carrier, too. The stubborn old cat refused to die of old age or illness, but Desolation’s flames might be enough to do the trick, and none of them would want to risk it.

There’s sounds from the house next door, and that reassures her that Daisy and Basira are up now, no doubt going through the same protocol they’d set in place for just this event. Hopefully it’s a fluke, but they can’t take that chance.

If it’s the past coming back to haunt them, with fire and flames, then they can’t afford to wait.

In ten minutes Georgie is at the wheel, and the car roars to life. Basira is getting the last of the Hussain-Tonner bags in their car, Martin bundled away in the back no doubt.

“Can I say goodbye?” Jon whispers, and Melanie sighs.

“Sorry, kiddo, but we gotta go.” She reaches out, holding his hand between the seats, as they peel out, headed far away.

He’s quiet, solemn. After five minutes of quiet, he sighs. “That’s alright. I’ll see him again, someday.”

“Yeah, no doubt about that,” she whispers back.

The next morning, their houses are on the news, as they watch in their hotel room, a hundred miles away. A fire, a roaring blaze, arson. But no bodies to be found.

“It was Jude, no doubt,” whispers Georgie, while Jon is fast asleep.

She nods. “Guess we tested our luck too long, staying in one place like that. If Jon hadn’t… Known. Then we might’ve been dead by now.”

“I’m worried,” Georgie sighs. “About him, about Martin. They-- We’re right, yeah? They saved the world together, and it involved a soulbond. They were both absolutely miserable before they saw each other that first time.”

Leaning her head on her wife, Melanie says, “Yeah, but… We’ll just have to make do, for now. Keep an eye out on them both. I think it might be a good idea to keep them separate, no contact, otherwise they’ll be sneaking out to the car some day and meeting each other halfway.”

Georgie snorts. “That’s absolutely something this Jon here would do. We’ve really spoiled him, huh?”

“From what I understand, we’ve been parenting just fine,” she says back, a roll of her unseeing eyes. “It’s his grandma who gave him all that childhood trauma last time. And a Leitner, what the fuck? How do you let an eight year old get his hands on one of those?”

That gets a full blown laugh. “Yeah, alright, you’re right. We’ve probably fucked him up somehow, but he’s not nearly as fucked up as when either of us first met him. Man, he needed some intensive therapy.”

---

Tim Stoker looks at the new-hire one time, and after the thought of I’m going to flirt with him so much passes through his head, another pops in of, wait that’d be weird--

Why?

He stares. Jonathan, the name tag reads, and why is that so familiar?

“Welcome aboard the library crew, my man!” He says out loud, giving a casual grin. “What’s a pretty boy such as yourself doing here?”

“You’re quite the flirt, Tim,” he says back with a laugh. “Sorry, not in the market right now. I’m not really… I’m not interested, mostly.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, all cool, no worries, Jonny-boy.”

That gets a snort. “Call me Jon, nothing like that, please.”

“Got it, boss. Still haven’t answered my question,” he says.

“Oh, well…” Jon takes out a pen from his pocket, and twists it around his fingers, spinning to and fro. “I’m going to be working down in the archives, mostly. Gertrude’s taking me on as an… Well, an intern, I guess? Assistant? It pays decent, and it’s my chosen field, so… It’s a good chance.”

Tim nods. Opportunistic. Not many people get to work with good ole’ Gerty. “She works in the paranormal department yeah? That oughta be fun.”

“Parapsychology, specifically,” he says back. “With a focus currently in the not-apocalypse. Lots of info on that still to be gathered.”

“So you’re interested in spooky stuff, awesome!” Tim laughs. “You gotta tell me all the weird things. We should do a scary movie night sometime together.”

Jon stares at him, as if trying to piece together some mysterious puzzle. With big eyes, intense eyes, meeting his, looking into him, in a way that he hasn’t felt since--since--

A nasty migraine is forming in the back of Tim’s head.

Jon looks away.

“Sure, why not? You're off shift now, though, right? You should get to your class.”

“How did you--?” he starts to ask, but Jon has already descended the stairs into the archives.

 The pain doesn’t go away, as he makes his way through math. It’s all numbers and easy problems. A blur as the teacher speaks, and he can’t focus. There’s something he’s forgetting. A nagging sense at the back of his mind, and he’d ask Sasha, or his roommate Martin for some help, except that seems like a very bad idea right now. He doesn’t know why. But it does.

Crashing onto his bed as soon as he gets back to his dorm is the best idea. Martin will assume he’s been out having fun, and he can sleep this stabbing agony off.

 It almost works, too.

 Fire, fire, so much fire.

Danny--who is Danny?-- Danny dead. The world a mess. Revolving around him in Stranger ways.

Falling apart.

Sasha is Not Sasha. Jonathan Sims is a Monster.

Martin is a stubborn fool.

The world blurs.

Explosions ring in his ears.

 Tim Stoker r e m e m b e r s . . .

 Shooting upright with a gasp, Tim stumbles out of bed. It had only been a few hours, but if anything the migraine has gotten worse.

He runs to the toilet, puking up whatever's in his stomach from that morning. Dizzy as another wave of nausea hits.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

There’s a knock on the door, and Martin -- Martin Blackwood, Martin Hussain-Tonner, fucking Martin -- is there, asking if he’s okay, in that kind way he always has.

“Yeah--” his voice cracks. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just some bad food.”

“Alright,” comes the reply. “Let me know if you need some help.”

“Got it,” he croaks. And then he’s alone.

Sitting on the cold tile, he holds his head in his hands, groaning.

He needs to contact someone.

Who?

Jon--? No. Not Jon, not yet. It was Jon’s presence that did this to him, no doubt, but he didn’t seem to actually know Tim.

Gertrude, maybe?

Fuck it, Gertrude it is. He has her number, she’s his boss, after all.

^Hey, Gerty, I think my head just died. Absolutely exploded with pain. Not coming in tomorrow.^

Not the most formal, but she hasn’t minded before.

^Well, I hope you feel better, Tim. Remember to check in if you’re staying out too long. It’ll be a circus here, otherwise, if we’re understaffed.^

“Fuck,” he hisses out again, because she definitely remembers. And she knows what happened.

^Mind filling me in on how the circus is doing?”

^They’re all in bits and pieces. It was quite the display, or so I hear. I have the tapes, if you want to listen to them.^

Of course she does.

^Sure, I’ll grab them on my next shift, sound good?^

^See you then. Feel better, Tim.^

 He does.

Looking at Sasha now, it’s bizarre. A deep pit in his stomach, knowing he forgot her, believed the Not!Sasha had been her for so long. It doesn’t sit right.

As he makes his way down the steps to the archive, he finds her following. A few feet before the door, he turns to look at her.

“Need to speak to Gertrude too?”

She blinks, crossing her arms. “If I do, it’s none of your business.”

A snort escapes him. “Learning how to be abrasive from our lovely head archivist?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, he wasn’t really that bad. I mean, I totally got killed during the worm thing, so whatever you went through, I guess I still need to find out, but… He was trying his best,” she says, nonchalant as she picks at her fingers.

“Did seeing him give you the worst migraine of two lives too, then?”

“Absolutely. I thought I was dying. Turns out I had!”

They both start to laugh. He bumps his shoulder against her. “God I missed ya, Sash. Things went whack without you there.”

“Did the two lovebirds ever manage to work out their problems?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

“Not before I got exploded! Shit got weird. Honestly, you missed a lot of stuff. I--Well I’d fill you in, but whatever tapes Gertrude has will probably do that for me,” Tim says, gesturing back to the door.

“Listening party?” Sasha suggests, as she steps forward to open it.

“Sure, maybe the trauma of listening to our own deaths will be easier with a friend and some good wine. Gotta be at your place though, cuz Martin doesn’t know.” He steps in with her.

Gertrude looks at them, a box set on the empty chair. “Take it, have fun. I believe it’ll do the job enough to fill you in.”

“Thanks Gerty! We’ll get them back to ya’ when we’re done!” Tim says, giving a wave as Sasha scoops up the box. He can feel her hatred of the nickname, but it’s far too late to stop him from using it now.

 They pick up on tape 39, conveniently labeled in order by Gertrude no doubt, for Sasha’s sake.

It’s awful.

She’d been spared the paranoia, the depths Jon had been plunged into.

They stop on tape 50, for the night. It hurts too much to keep going.

---

Jon wakes up from his nightmare.

Shaking, terror coursing through his veins. Memories he can’t remember. He’s not a fool.

Reincarnation was part of what he’d studied, while looking into parapsychology. No conclusive evidence, of course, that’s impossible to get. Almost everything presented as esoteric is false. The most true subjects tend to involve the apocalypse, and even then, it’s not a sure shot.

But they always involve dreams. Dreams of memories. Past lives mean past memories, trying to find their way to the present.

And his dreams have been getting worse.

But that’s ridiculous, right? Utterly ridiculous. He’s being superstitious. Gullible. There’s never been proof of reincarnation adequately presented. To think he had a past life is to give into the folly of the people he criticizes.

(He knows, deep in his soul, that some things are true. He can’t discount everything.

But there’s no need to let this knowledge consume him.)

Jon sighs, sitting up. It wouldn’t do to dwell on this, not when he has a test today that he needs to last-minute cram for.

His phone lights up by his side, though, and he picks it up. Blinking blearily at the screen in confusion before yesterday hits him.

^Hey Jon! Good morning! How are you doing?^

From the contact of Martin!!

A smile spreads over his face, dragging him out of bed and through his morning routine. Food. Toothbrushing. Clothes. Heading out for his class early, instead of almost late for once.

^I’m good, Martin. I have a test today, soon. Going to study for that. How about you?^

The reply comes almost instantly, which drops a small pit in his stomach, because martin’s first text had been two hours before Jon had gotten up.

^I’m good too! Thanks for asking! I’m working on an essay right now, but nothing super important.^

^Well, don’t let me keep you from your work.^ He’d feel bad if he were the reason Martin got a bad grade. It’d be awful.

^Nah, I don’t really need to worry about this class. I’m passing with a 96% right now, and I’m one of the only people who talks in class. Like, during the discussions and all!^

^Teacher’s pet, are you?^

Jon can picture the little laugh Martin does at this, scrunched up nose and crinkled eyes. ^Better than failing, that’s for sure. You’re absolutely someone who sits in the back of the class and does his best to avoid conversation, though, aren’t you?^

He chuckles, smiling. Then he rubs his neck, glancing around as he walks to make sure no one is staring. There’s the usual bustle of people, but no one looking at him. Just leaves falling in the breeze, and the nip of the autumn air. He’s good, so far, but it’d be dangerous to keep this up inside.

(He might not care, because this is Martin. Self-consciousness be damned.)

^Yeah, you’ve got me pinned.^ he says back.

^I hide behind my laptop screen whenever I can, studiously take notes, and never talk to another living soul if I can avoid it.^

^Wow, what a nerd :P^

^Can’t believe my best friend is a nerd :P^

Jon has to take a second to pause, sigh, and roll his eyes, because Martin, please. ^You mean the same friend who would spend hours recounting books he’d read to you in perfect detail? Or the friend who once asked their teacher for more homework because he was bored? That friend?^

^Absolutely.^

^What a shock.^

^I’ve been completely betrayed by your sudden nerdom that has arisen in the past 11 years that I have totally never encountered before.^

That tugs a full-fledged laugh out of Jon, and he has to duck onto a less-used path behind a building to hide for a full minute, because Jonathan Sims does not randomly laugh at his phone in public.

When the coast is clear, he keeps walking, and slips into the building with the ease of someone whose had classes in it for three years already. He navigates to his classroom and takes his (unofficial) seat in the back, pulling out his notes and pretending like he’s studying, not thinking about Martin.

^I feel like I’m not the only nerd in this conversation.” The text sends as a quick reply, and then he follows it up with: ^Also, in class now. Going to study. Chat later?^

^Of course! Let me know when you’re free! See ya :D^

He rubs his face, setting his phone to silent and in his bag, trying to scrub away the blush that must be rising to his cheeks.

Martin is… So Martin.

Over the past decade Jon had wanted so much to reconnect with his old friend. An ache in his chest, screaming until all he knew was the noise, yearning to find him. Fixated on the missing piece until the misery became background radiation in his life, his new normal. Settled deep in his bones. Uncomfortable weight buried in his skin, just enough to fade into his usual, everyday pain. There, but not the focus.

 (Not usually. There were some days, some nights, where the loss of Martin dug its claws in. His body full of hooks and they pulled. As if trying to tug him closer. Back to Martin.

He almost followed it, a few times. Deep in his mind, a haze of the gaping hole, guiding his feet onto an unknown path. But he never went far. Always turned around and walked back home. His moms raised him well, he knows better than to be alone.

College the first year was scary. Terror welling in his throat. New people, new places. Too many unknowns.)

 One small, niggling little voice in Jon’s head, a voice filled with the needles of anxiety, had tried to tell him that Martin wouldn’t be the same. That if they ever reunited, Martin wouldn’t care about him. Or maybe, maybe the years had warped his thoughts, his understanding of who his friend was. An idealized image instead of the real person.

But he also remembers Martin fretting over him when Jon fell ill. Spending the night out of worry, sneaking in through his window to bring him medicine at midnight.

He remembers Martin listening as Jon rambled, and then rambling in turn. Jon knows so much about spiders to this day, because Martin had found a book and read all about it to him.

He remembers the poetry, still scrawled in notebooks and on pieces of paper he refused to throw away. Packed into that bag as from the fire they escaped.

That voice in his head never held any real sway.

But it’s nice to be proven right, for a change.

[bri206]

Soulmates Part 6

Hey guys I apologize if you read the first post this morning, I updated the ending, so check it out for a more accurate read!

When the sun blankets over the two intertwined figures on the bed, the first thing seen is the look of absolute peace on each face. All the worries were gone. That is until a certain brown haired little sister barged into the room unexpectedly.

“Ollie!”

At the sound of the petite, young voice, both figures raise up in shock. At the sight of a very young Thea Queen, Felicity squeaks, pulls the covers over her spaghetti strap cami,  and looks around for a way to hide.

Noticing the blonde woman for the first time, Thea, looks at her suspiciously.

“Your not Laurel.”

At the accusation, Felicity tries to pull the covers over head to hide.

“THEA! What are you doing in my room?” Oliver says trying to shield Felicity.

“Mom’s been calling for you for the last 10 minutes, so she sent me to come wake you up.”

“Thea.” he says taking a deep breath. “I will be downstairs in a few minutes, now please close the door on your way out.”

The feisty 12 year old, hesitates as she continues to let her eyes linger on the woman who is not his girlfriend.

“Thea.”

“Ok, ok. I’m going.”

As she turns around, she is about to leave, when another person arrives in the room.

“Ollie, please don’t tell me you’re still aslee..p” Seeing Felicity for the first time, partially hiding behind Oliver, makes Tommy stop his sentence. “Well hello there. Am I interrupting something?”

“No” Thea says at the same time Oliver says “Yes”

“Are you just gonna sit there and make me have to guess who your friend is?”

At this point, Oliver hangs his head in both embarrassment and frustration.

“Get out. Both of you.”

“I will  once I get this pretty girl’s name” Tommy says flashing his signature smile, and wink.

At the look that he has seen a million times over the years, his friend has used on so many different women, Oliver feels jealous course through his veins. Just the thought that his best friend was hitting on his wife, in his bed, is unbelievable.

“Tommy if you don’t get out in the next three seconds I will have you wishing you never told me that secret at Tony Parker’s party three years ago.”

At the threat, Tommy is singing a different tune. “It was very nice to meet you, beautiful stranger.”

And with that, the door closes, and they are both surrounded in the silence of the day.

“We are really failing at this keep subtle thing, aren’t we?” Felicity asks innocently.

Oliver simply answers by throwing his head back and hitting the pillow dramatically. “I’m gonna take that as a yes.”

Reaching for her glasses, across his body  on his nightstand, she grabs them and puts them on. When everything becomes crystal clear, she gets a good look of Oliver Queen’s childhood bedroom.

The first thing she notices, is how big it is. It has to be at least the size of her apartment. The second thing she notices is the simplicity of the room. She knows better than anyone that Oliver likes his room nice and tidy, but this surprises her.

“Is your room always this tidy?” she asks slowly getting out of the bed.

“You sound surprised.”

“Not for you, but for Ollie, yes. I just figured your room would be as chaotic as your life.” she says shrugging her shoulders.

As she advances on one of his two bookshelves, she lets her fingers graze the worn covers and then stops.

“You never told me you read Moby Dick.”

“That’s because I didn’t” he says leaning against the headboard as watches her.

Turning around, she gives him a confused look. “Then why do you have it?”

“Decoration.”

Rolling her eyes, she goes back to exploring the humongous room.

“You have a lot of boats in here.”

“Yeah, it was kind of my thing.”

“Oh the irony” she whispers. Then she sees the window.

Pulling back the curtain, she can see one of the most beautiful gardens she’s ever seen.

“Wow”

“I know” he says wrapping his arms around her waist and letting his lips graze against her earlobe.

“It’s beautiful.” While she watches the roses and daisies, Oliver only has eyes for her.

“Yeah.”

Turning in his embrace, she kisses him. They savor the softness of one another’s lips.

“Thank you”

“For what?”

“For letting me stay here. It didn’t really end up in our favor, but it was nice to be in your arms.”

“I know what you mean.” he says bringing her in for a hug.

After a couple minutes, she pulls away.

“I should probably go, I’m sure Thea has snitched to your parents that I am not Laurel. Besides I need to get in contact with Sara.”

“I’ll try to sneak you out.”

“Ok.”

After gathering her sneakers and hoodie, Oliver takes her hand and leads her out the door of his bedroom. When he sees the hallway clear, they quietly walk down the corridor.

Reaching the grand staircase, they don’t hear movement from below, so they start to move. When they reach the bottom of the steps,  Oliver looks around as if he were trying to get them out of a rescue mission. Finally coming to the beautiful double doors, his family calls the front door, Felicity whispers, “We made it.”

“Yeah”

“I’ll call you the second I hear confirmation from Sara” she says pecking his cheek.

And without another thought, she walks out the doors.

As soon as Felicity’s feet touch the hardwoods of her apartment, she is kicking off her shoes and dropping her hoodie to the ground. Jogging over to the laptop that is sitting untouched on her island, she sits down and gets to work.

After an hour of developing the algorithms she needs to contact the Waverider, everything is perfect, all she has to do is push the ‘Enter’ button. Seconds later, she does just that.

A few seconds later, Sara’s face shows up.

“Sara” she sighs.

“Felicity, hi. What’s going on? Where are you?”

“It’s a very long and complicated story, but the short version is, Oliver and I are stuck in 2007.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know. And before you ask, no we don’t know how we got here, but none of that will matter when you arrive and take us back. Which I’m hoping is in the next few hours.”

At her happy assumption, Sara’s confused look turns to a downcast look.

“Woah, what is that look for? Sara?”

“About that, it might take a little longer than a couple hours.”

“Ok, how long exactly?”

“I… don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Sara you are literally on a time ship, you can be here in seconds.”

“Could. Could be in there in seconds.”

“I’m sorry, why did you just use the past tense of can?”

“The Waverider might be under construction right now.”

“Under Construction?” she asks in disbelief. “No. No, the Waverider can not be down, it’s practically indestructible.”

“Oh god I wish. Look I’m sorry Felicity, believe me when I say that I would be there in a heartbeat if I could.”

Looking down, she feels all hope leave her body. “So when do you think you’ll be here?”

“I don’t know, it could be anywhere from a couple days to…”

Sighing, Felicity leans back. “Sara if you’re not here in the next two weeks, Oliver is going to have to relive one his most terrifying memories ever.”

“The Gambit” she utters.

“Yeah”

“Ok, look I can’t promise that it will be done by then, but I can promise that I will do everything in my power to save you two as soon as I can.”

Giving a small smile, she simply says, “I know you will.” Sitting up, she sighs. “Keep me updated.”

“I will. Hang in there.”

And with one final nod, Felicity cuts the feed, and is left with a black screen.

“Great.”

After Felicity left, Oliver went to eat, and luckily his parents didn’t seem to give him the accusing look they give him, whenever they catch him with a girl. Which means Thea didn’t snitch on him. But that didn’t stop her from glancing at him curiously every few seconds.

After breakfast, he walks to the stairs, when he gets the message.

‘I need you NOW’

Walking into Felicity’s apartment, he feels the change in mood very quickly.

“Felicity?”

Then he sees her. On the couch, she is looking ahead, lost in thought.

“Felicity”

Gasping when she feels him lay a hand on her shoulder.

“Oliver.”

“What’s wrong? Was Sara not there?”

Giving off a humorless laugh, she looks away.

“Oh she was there alright. She told me that she can’t come.”

“What?”

“Apparently the Waverider was damaged in combat and it’s not working.”

“So what does that mean? That we’re stuck here?”

“Yes.”

After the shock of the revelation comes down on him, Oliver is sitting down, and Felicity is in action, getting up and pacing.

“Ok we have to think, since they won’t be here until TBA, as much as I hate to say this we HAVE to keep everything on track. So what were you doing a week before the Gambit goes down?”

Oliver looks down and makes a disgusted look.

“What’s that look for? Oliver?”

“I was sleeping with Sara at this time.”

“You were wh-” Taking a deep breath she turns around and murmurs to herself, “Of course you were.”

Turning back to him, she’s scared to ask the next question.

“Is that absolutely necessary for the development of this story?”

“The only reason she came on in the first place was because I made her… I made her feel like she had a chance.”

Sighing, she looks down conflicted.

“Felicity, I made a vow to you and that means more to me than anything. I don’t want to sleep with Sara, I don’t want to cheat on you.” The next words that leave his mouth, has him sounding and looking like a lost little boy.  “Please don’t make me.”

“Oh Oliver. What about Sara?”

“We’ll find another way. I’ll convince her right before the Gambit.”

“Ok, but we need to make sure she gets on that boat, because if she doesn’t we screw her life up too, and we will permanently be stuck here.”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem, let’s just focus on what we can control.” “And what is that?”

“Having a night to ourselves for once.”

Smiling she hugs him, “I’d like that. Can I cook?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It was worth a shot.”

@candykizzes24 @wherethereissmoak @ao3feed-oliverfelicity @almondblossomme @dreamalongwithamy @smkkbert @miriam1779  @jcc04220 @emisfritish @smoakqueenalways @leuska @lovelycssefan @it-was-a-red-heeler @omglovechrissie @smoakqueenalways

[thedisneyfanartdidntdie]

Halloween is Romantic

Mickey had inherited many blessings from his father, but one of Minnie's favorites was Mickey's storytelling skills.

The way he could spin a yarn and completely enrapture his audience made Minnie swoon. And the way he could just spin these stories without thinking was incredible - you just don't find people like that anymore; most storytellers needed a laptop and a year of procrastination, Mickey just needed his voice, his sharp mind, and his enchanting imagination.

Mickey finished his tale of the beautiful maiden and her Munchhausen illness, and the handsome twisted mansion owner who took her soul in exchange for his love. The story was actually pretty disturbing - evident in the five terrified faces of Huey, Dewey, Loui, Morty, and Ferdi looking at Mickey and sheer terror and wonder. Even the listening adults - Donald and Goofy - stared at Mickey with wide frightened eyes. The masterful storyteller looked pleased and smiled smugly under lidded eyes, and as the terrified kids ran upstairs to bed, he slid his emerald irises to Minnie and winked. Minnie felt her cheeks warm and her blue lips slid into a bashful smile. Now out of the eyesight of a PG audience, she slinked her deep dark blue dressed body to her magical husband. The gold glittering dust of Mickey's visual aids settled around the mic and unto the floor. Minnie cradled her hands to Mickey's slightly exposed chest, and they rubbed noses for a moment.

"Why do you always make your female characters resemble me somehow?" Minnie asked, her voice silky and her hands rubbing her husband's chest slowly with the whole of her hands, opening the shirt of the one-night mad doctor just slightly more. In the magic storytelling dust, the heroine of Mickey's story not only looked like Minnie but - as suggested by the narrator - had much in common with someone they all knew; someone kind, pure, lovely, and beautiful. Minnie didn't tell Mickey outright but it was clear the consistent theme was quite flattering to her.

Mickey shrugged. "What can I say," Mickey said slyly. "You're my muse" he whispered into her decorated ear, and checked his peripheral vision for kiddos before leaning down to trickle kisses across her shoulder. Minnie sighed and rolled her head back to give Mickey's lips clearer access to her soft exposed skin. Mickey's strong gentle hands waltzed and danced along Minnie's back and in the small of her back, just above her not-so-small behind. Minnie's hands skid up Mickey's chest and around his neck then through his hair. Mickey was heavily tempted to carry his lips further down Minnie's shoulders to the apple in her neck and then the curvy crevices of her perky breasts that were flatteringly cupped in her Blue witch of the woods costume, but the clearing of Daisy's throat startled him.

The interrupted mice glared at the duck with surprise and frustration, who had actually cleared her throat because apple cider went down the wrong pipe while she helped clean the kitchen. Daisy glanced where she felt the mistaken daggers stare at her, and blushed slightly after noticing the mice's suggestive embrace. "Apple cider," she said bashfully. Mickey and Minnie's alarm quickly became irritation, but they took this as a good time to clean up the party and tuck the kids into bed. Mickey released Minnie from his intimate embrace, but held her hand as they returned to the mess of candy and confetti to clean together. Mickey then leaned in close to her ear before letting go of her hand to alleviate the mess. "Until our own haunting hour, my love," he whispered, and a shiver crawled up Minnie's spine. "I'll unwrap your candy," Minnie said breathlessly, which made Mickey chuckle - even now hearing such dirty pillow-talk from such a pristine woman like his wife never failed to flatter and surprise him. He smooched her cheek then rolled up his sleeves to transform the Mr. and Mrs. Mouse home into post-Halloween style.

[doubledaffy]

January, 2017. Daisy and I went to Japan to visit Kevin and Shoko. I wrote a lot about it and made this little video. XO.

1-5-17 Thursday

Kyushu island

Hippo Bakery

Beach walk. Bread. Blendy Stick. Laundry mat. Itoshima - wife and husband. I forgot my back pack on the beach it so happens. Moto guys. Daisy thought Japanese surfers were big water turkeys. Ancient pine forest. Karatsu burger. I hated. Aka egg and cheese. Kagamiyama mountain. Body move move. Karatsu castle. Ripped the cube into traffic towards Akasaka station to meet Tsuyoshi. (We got the laundry while I sat in the car). AirBnB guy. Boom box grocery store. Dars. Wasabi potato sticks. Crying toddler. Google translate sucks. Shoko made hot pot meal. Nummy. Kevin whipped his chocolate pops.

Fun fact. The man who invented Tenga, has the Guinness world record for longest JO. How fitting.

Gross airbnb hair on comforter and towel. Do not want to stay there. Wasting more money. :(

1-6-17 Friday

Big dry heave last night. Woke up at 1am thinking "oh boy, something's going on. Whoops!" Ran to the bathroom, felt the heat rise up my body. Was it the broth? The chicken? The Sake? I placed my hands upon the electronically heated seat of the Japanese washlet and began to dry heave. No barf. I felt like Barfing. But nope. My body wouldn't let me. I felt better though and went back to bed. Daisy told me in the AM that they made the HotPot with pork broth, thought of me, and then decided not to tell me. Maybe it was that. Who cares. I feel better today. Kev made Spanish French toast (torijas) for us. It was lovely. Daisy said the shower she took was the best she's ever taken. That's because there's a huge window looking out in the the sea. It's magic. Daisy and went to 7-11. Big presence here. Kev fully loves it. Apparently they make great stuff and the ATM is reliable. Located right next to the "Titty mags" as Kev explained. I took out Shoko's penny board and we stopped at HIPPO tiny surf bakery and got some snacks for the house. No salty bread. We showed up too late. I left the penny board outside and no one stole it! --- Shoko drove us to a special lunch and snack spot. Snack spot was very Japanese and cute and had weird dessert stuff. Lunch spot was closed at 3pm! Great shoe horn though. I Bought the best spoon ever. White metal. Feels like stone. Expensive ceramic gift shops. Hotto motto dance and curb eat. Sake factory great traditional architecture. Drove to muji and inkcube in the mall. Went nuts at Muji. And stuff. Daisy neck hurt. Back home. Cream soup. Organize pack. Test journals and pens out. Daisy in bed by 9. I stay up and eat cream soup and some dars. White chocolate. Do some photos and stuff. Kev teaches himself Japanese on laptop then plays StarDewValley.

1-7-17 Saturday

Woke up early. Beach walk. Big shell find. Hippo. Too early for SheoPan! 9:30 is the best time. Come back. Blendy stick with Scones and Cream Soup left over. Computer time clicky and and work / taxes shit. Shower ocean view. Skate to Hippo at 9:30. got the SheoPan. Groin pull fall on the way back. Saw Osky and the Corgy photo shoot. Kev takes us to train. I dropped 40 on the train card by mistake. Taking photos on the train is illegal, Kevin explains. Photo sound on iPhone mandatory. Unpack at AirBnb. Then Bounce to Lunch at crazy under ground mall. Green noodle soup. So many people. So many things. So many structures. So much lighting. So much movement. No white people. Babies dressing nicely. Cool gear. Women in mens wool long straight overcoats. Tan and black. Big buttons and ties. Underground mall culture. Walk tour through FuK with Kev. Side of building greenery stair case hike to views. Photo shoot women and man.  Stop at Julette’s letters. Got a CLIP and stuff. Wooden baby toys nice. Japanese Love Pop and cool pencil, etc. Walk to DONUT spot. Lots of walking. Donut spot in crazy OTHER mall under ground. Madness. Hot down there. Amazing donuts. Weird that in a mall though, but maybe that’s great. Mall Mall Mall. Energy to go to MUJI. Big walk again. Lots of stores and big streets. Mega complex. Water light projector show. Muju is calming. Hot in there. Got more shit. Wanted everything and a new house to decorate. Book for Ben. Meet up with Shoko at Hippo and crazy recycling bear. Walk to restaurant called CHIKEN. Allow smoking, but place is cool and hip and nice. Light beer life. Moscow mule. Was off, from walking and hunger. Kev big adventurous eater. Raw Chicken - SASHIMI. Crazy. Got a little buzzed and let go. Crazy smokey chicken dish. Tasty food overall. Walk back in the Rain. LAWSON Dars and purple gummy candy and Crunky! Shoko peeled off before the AirBnB after party. Incense at the Airbnb made it smell better. Muji lights. 1/4 xanax or whatever to sleep. Pushed beds together with D and passed out.

1-8-17 Sunday

Woke up. Jon Bellion hate listen. Shower in tiny shower. Trying to meet with Kev at Eggs and Things. Big American style food. Just love the American food. Not so much THAT< I love knowing what I’m eating because I have a special little diet that doesn’t really include meat or fish or pork or anything, and here in Japan that’s hard. Kev showed up. After Eats and Things we popped on the train(s) to Dazaifu - a very old (16th century) Shrine (or could be a temple, hard to remember which is which) about 1hr on the localish trains. People on the trains sleep a lot. It’s nice. Also, no one is loud. Very quiet and respectful. Trains are on time and the stations are clean. One train we took was just the loveliest color scheme - light green/blue and red. V. calming. Tons of people in the terminals at times. Felt like Grand Central Terminal. If I ever felt like wanting to go to a Bigger Japanese city, nope - this amount of people is fine. Dazaifu is amazing. Tiny village full of a billion people swarming up to see the shrine, but it was oddly peaceful because no one is rude and it’s generally quiet. Tiny shops and people cooking meat sticks and shit on the sides on the way up. At the end, before the gate, there was a naturally formed single file line just to take a pic with the whacky animal statue. Formed by the people in a simple organized way. Not like the monster americans at Disney. Just a nice simple civilized line. Inside, we had to do a special hand and mouth wash routine to cleanse ourselves a the water zone. I touched my lips to the water bucket stick because it’s hard to know the customs in other countries. A million Japanese people cycling through there each day, and Jeff touches his lips to the community water bucket. We hiked up into the woods and saw an amusement park on the other side which seemed weird being so close to a shine or whatever. We got soft meatless sweet pucks and sat at a low table. Very relaxing stroll. Felt bad that Kev was in the Glum zone not knowing if his relationship is in the pits. Train back Komono woman sleeping among all the other sleeping Japanese people. Kev bounced, had to work and wanted to be home for the night. We wish we could all just stay at the house. Going back to the AirBnB and not having family dinner with the homie was bumming us out. I was excited to take the reins and figure out where to go in the new city. Apple Maps is great for walking directions on this trip. Great UI. Google Maps looks like garbage. Daisy found a place that has burgers and veggy options called Brooklyn Parlor. No shame in just going to a cool hip place that I know I can get something I like. The thing is, the Japanese food I have eaten is amazing. But when you’re without your Japanese speaking friends, it’s very hard to make sure you aren’t eating shell fish or meat. We saw some other cool small restaurants we’d thought looked nice on the walk. 7-11 stop after dinner to get snacks. The Titty Rags had censorship thingies on the genitals and they also had tape on the pages so you couldn’t open em. Old man barfing at the bus stop, but overall we’re getting a friendly vibe from the city. Plans to watch Finding Dori on the lappy, but might just crash. Trying to plan what to do tomorrow with the rental car with Kev. Hard to plan sometimes! We’re living out of a backpack now because of the AirBnB and would like to re-up / swap out our gear.

(First horn sound we’ve heard here. Wow. Just now as I was typing this entry, just goes to show you, why honk, when you can be patient and kind?)  

1-9-17 Monday

Giants

Eggs and things iced coffee?

Train to Kevin's

Rental car madness - couldn’t find Nissan. Goosechase.

Senyoji temple - Magic. Soft. Quiet. Milltion Monks on hill. Old artifacts. Incense. Chanting on Mic.

Everyone backs their car in to the parking spot.

Ichiran Noodle Factory - ticket system. Rice and Egg and cold Mushrooms. Put the plate on the sound thingy and it makes a big sound all across the restaurant signifying that you want your next little order.

Tea Garden Madness - Light up trees across this huge empty yard with pop music blasting from a ton of speakers hidden all over the grounds. I did a BodyMoveMove, naturally.

1-10-17 Tuesday

Tried to go to Hippo today. It’s hard to go there, apparently. Closed on Tuesdays. Whoops! Came back with no pastries, so Kevy Cab hooked up the Pancakes and I took care of the Blendy Sticks. Grabbed the laundry and popped out to the long driving day through windy roads in the beautiful Japanese country side. First we stopped at the big Caldera overlook where a volcano made a blast hole a very long time ago. Then we popped down more windy roads to see the Aso Volcano. It was cloudy, but you could see a massive mountain with a big hole in it smoking underneath sets of ominous clouds. The museum center looked like something out of a Russian Post Apocalypse B movie. Drove to the wrong hot springs, I was getting car sick, so moved up front. The steering wheel is on the right side here, so sitting up front is a treat cuz you feel like you’re just controlling the car with you mind. Finally made it to the real hot springs. It’s a 24hr spot and it’s magical. You pick your favorite little hot spring house for around 1500 Yen (15 bucks). Then you pop in there, shower off, put your coins in the slot thingy that makes hot water blast out of a long tube into a beautiful wooden tub. We would have splurged for the rock tub for an extra dollar. Yup, a dollar for the upgrade. Daisy and I never felt so relaxed. I bought some sheepy slippers at the gift shop and am wearing them now. I also bought a sprite type drink that was about 1/4 size of a glass coke bottle, with a label designed to win design awards. Shoko is now getting car sick, so it’s me and her up front, with her driving. She drives very fast. On the highway she was passing mother fuckers with ease. I was nervous. Grabbed our laundry from the trusty laundry mat (drying only for us). I lay down on the bench while Daisy read Japanese Nylon. I was trying to still my body. Bopped over to the UDON noodle place and got some Tofu Noodle Udon and white rice. It was simply great. Ate at the counter and took some iPhone vids of stuff. At home raging on some 7-11 snacks we got at some point today. 7-11 here is what I want a convenience store to be. It has lots of shit I like and cheap. Daisy in bed now cuz I feel I owe it to myself to document these trips. They’re super important to me and special and I’m lucky to go on them.

1-11-17 Wednesday

Woke up at 8am and popped out to the ocean magic tree zone to dance in public for my BodyMoveMove & Exquisitemovement project. Dancing really gets the heart pumping. Daisy said she wanted to go for a run on the beach but where is she now? Face down in bed, that’s where. I can’t seem to sleep past 8 and I’m loving it. Slid over to Hippo for a pastry run. Scored that ShioPan which is very rare and special, as we all know. Came back and missed the “let’s go” and rushed to get ready. Everyone was making fun of me for being a space cadet on this trip, but I kinda like being loose and spacey when I’m not at the wheel. Most of my life is dictated by me and only me so it’s been really nice that Kev and Shoko are handling everything and being great tour guides. We zap over to Shoko’s parent’s house which is a traditional Japanese magical tiny compound. Garden’s and outbuildings and paths tucked and squeezed into the tiny suburban hillside. They have another house that they open as a cafe and art gallery and everything is as you’d expect a modern day / ancient Japanese house to be. They have a fucking COY POND in the middle of it all with lots of buddies swimming back and forth. Their toilet has a button that lifts and lowers the seat - no touch lifestyle. That sums up the house and how rad it is. We jammed over to a fast food Sushi Roll place that uses a conveyer belt system to deliver your food and you pay per plate. You order on the touch screen and it makes a lot of loud chimes and screams at you, which is the only downside. All this annoyance is overruled by the convenience and novelty. I ate no fish because fish grosses me out and I feel bad for them. They say fish is good for you, but not for me because it’s disgusting and smells like low tide. Your kid isn’t dressed up like he/she is headed to fashion week? Don’t bring them outside then. That’s the rule. Tolls here are very expensive, but the roads, even though I can’t read a god damn word, seem to be great and tight and efficient and clean. Next, we bopped over to the largest bronze Buddah that is laying down. It’s magnificent and peaceful. Snagged a Bodymovemove before going inside and praying at all the little pray stations. Then we got little balls with feathers on them to toss into the tiny buckets but none of us were successful. Guess what? This place is manicured to perfection and has a very hand made feel. Lots of paths into the forest and mini shrines and stuff. Even a tiny Torii Gate you can crawl through. Whoops, sun is setting, so we blast off to another Temple Shrine they’re calling Hay something. It has a lot of stairs and you can see the ocean and whatever. Big hay knot thingy you can pray to. We got gas and stopped at Aeon for food and snacks for gifts. The Nissan March really gets good gas mileage. I can’t find my lens cap, but who cares, I already got the good Bokeh shot on the highway. We’ve been using a “Shared Wallet” System, which is neat. You all put in the same amount of $ at the beginning and when you do group activities you all take out of that. At the end if there’s any left, you split it up. It works well or whatever. Back home Shoko made hot pot - no pork so I don’t need to dry heave over the wash-let again! Beers for everyone but me and desserts and funny convo on the futon and stuff. I took a bath listening to the ocean waves pulse. So nice. That pulsing really does wash away everything bad.

(so that’s it for what I have written. I know we stayed in Japan longer, maybe I wrote the rest of my thoughts in an actual journal? Hard to care to search for it right now. Maybe the video above will do the trick closing that gap. I’m updating this blog right now and it’s 5/11/19 10:07AM)

[theartofbeinganerd]

Fic request. Fitzsimmons, where Simmons tells fitz she's pregnant by doing something super cute. Then fast forward to a gender reveal kinda thing to the whole team. Thanks ❤️❤️ I'm in the mode for baby cuteness

Okay so honestly this morphed into a monster of a fic (seriously, I’m exhausted after writing this lmao), and because I couldn’t decide on which cute little pregnancy announcement was the most ~Jemma, this is where I ended up. So, have a fic where Fitz is oblivious and Jemma grows more and more done with each passing day. (I hope it’s still alright, anon!) Enjoy!

-

Hearing the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor oftheir apartment, Jemma hastily closed her laptop and grabbed the two cups oftea she’d already prepared, curling up in the breakfast nook to wait. Her handswere shaking with barely-contained excitement, and she had to force her beaminggrin into a more acceptable smile of greeting as Fitz appeared in the doorwayto their little kitchen.

“’Morning,” he said distractedly, still doing up the buttonsof his shirt, jacket draped over his arm.

“Good morning,” she replied, tilting her head up to receive thequick kiss he gave her. “I made tea.”

Fitz accepted the plain white mug from her, taking animmediate sip and sighing in relief before he told her sincerely, “Thanks, Jem,you’re the best.”

“Just doing my wifely duties,” Jemma teased, absently toyingwith the rings on her left hand as she carefully watched him drinking the tea. “Andwell, I was up first – I know the drill.”

Fitz shot her an amused grin, taking another long drinkbefore setting the mug back down on the table of the breakfast nook,half-finished. “I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to get on over to the Playgroundto get started on those upgrades for Coulson. I’ll see you there later?”

A bit frantically, Jemma held out the half-empty mug to Fitzand asked, “Don’t you want to finish your tea first?”

“Don’t have the time,” Fitz admitted apologetically, shruggingon his jacket and bending over to drop a kiss on her forehead. “See you later,Jemma. Love you.”

Sighing, Jemma sank a bit in her seat, watching his back ashe hurried out of the kitchen and grabbed the backpack of tools and supplies healways left by their front door. “I love you too,” she called half-heartedly,and she forced a smile as Fitz waved over his shoulder before disappearing outthe door.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, dejectedly staringat the mugs left on the table, then with a heavy sigh, she stood and picked upthe one she’d chosen special for Fitz. She drained the rest of the tea into thesink, making the message engraved on the very bottom of the inside visible – “you’re going to be a dad!”

Leaning one elbow heavily on the counter, Jemma stared sadlyat the cute little mug she’d ordered especially for this exact occasion, andthought back to the website she’d found it on. Of all the suggestions and ideasshe’d come across in her research, none of them had mentioned what to do if thefather-to-be didn’t actually see themessage.

She allowed herself another moment to lament the perfectmoment she’d spent days (a week and ahalf, to be exact, when she’d gotten the results from her blood test that she’dalready been expecting after a missing period and random bouts of nausea)imagining, before she straightened up with renewed purpose.

There was always tomorrow, after all.

-

A week.

Jemma had used the same damn mug for a week, and Fitz had yet to notice that there was something written inside of it. Every morning heseemed to be either running late and therefore in a hurry, or already had hishead in thoughts of the work he needed to do once he got to the Playground anddidn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Either way, he was still entirely unawareof her pregnancy, and this was notgoing how Jemma had planned at all.

But, Jemma Fitzsimmons was anything but a quitter, and shewas going to announce her pregnancyto her husband so adorably that it would be a story they’d tell for years, nomatter what it took.

With that in mind, Jemma abandoned the idea of the mug andstepped it up a bit, leaving the Playground early to make a special purchasewhile Fitz was out on a quick mission with Daisy and Mack.

By the time he came home that night, she was waiting intheir bedroom, wearing one of his button-up shirts and draped across their bed.There was a seductive little smile playing on her lips…

Until Fitz came shuffling into the room, nearly dead on hisfeet and covered in dozens of little cuts and bruises.

Immediately, Jemma sat up in concern, momentarily forgettingabout her plans. “Fitz! Are you alright? What happened?”

At first, her only response was a low groan as he fell face firstonto the mattress, still fully clothed, though he sluggishly kicked his shoesoff to land on the floor at the end of the bed. Then, he turned his head, facestill half-buried in the blankets, to mutter, “What d’you think? I swear,Coulson needs to stop using the words ‘quick’ and ‘easy’ to describe ops.”

“But you’re alright?” she pressed, needing to reassureherself by hearing the words.

Fitz gave her a small smile, nodding as best he could withmost of his face pressed into the mattress. “M’fine. Just a bit sore.”

Jemma let out a quiet breath of relief, and it was onlymoments before a sly grin was tugging at her lips as she tried to get the nightback on track. “I can help with that, if you’d like.”

Fitz’s brow furrowed as he squinted in confusion at her, buthe seemed to get it pretty quickly after that, and much to Jemma’sdisappointment, he winced apologetically. “Not that I’m not interested, but I’mnot sure I could even move right now.I think I just need some sleep; rain check, though?”

Blinking back tears of frustration, Jemma smiled much moregenuinely than she felt and nodded quickly. “Of course! You get some sleep,Fitz. I’m just…” She trailed off, scrambling off of the bed and hurriedly leavingthe room without a further explanation.

Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, Jemmaunbuttoned the shirt and tossed it into the hamper, turning sharply to avoidthe image in the mirror of her bare stomach, the word “surprise!” painted on her stomach with multiple arrows pointingdirectly to her uterus and where their baby was currently growing.

As she began scrubbing off the paint and fought against thedisappointment surging through her, Jemma realized that perhaps she was goingabout this wrong; if it was work keeping him busy and distracted, then she’djust have to work with that.

-

A couple of days later, Jemma was at her station in the lab,watching out of the corner of her eye for Fitz to return and find what she’dleft on his desk the moment he’d been called away to Coulson’s office. She was sure that this would be the one; afterall, what else could he possibly think was going on?

However, her attention shifted when Agent Crawford droppedoff some new samples that needed to be tested as soon as possible. Shecompleted the analysis relatively quickly, and had the results ready to gowithin twenty minutes – enough time, apparently for Fitz to have returnedwithout her notice.

He was hunched over his desk, eyes narrowed and tonguesticking out the side of his mouth, the very image of intense concentration onher husband – and the present she’d left on the desk was now missing.

Trying to keep her rapidly increasing heartbeat undercontrol, Jemma hurried across the space between their desks and came to a stopbeside him. She didn’t even have to announce her presence before Fitz greetedabsently over his shoulder, “Hey, check this out, I think I’ve finally got thatEMP disrupter for Coulson’s hand stabilized.”

Jemma barely glanced at the bit of machinery in his handsbefore replying, “That’s fantastic, Fitz. Have you –”

“Applied it to the new model yet? No, I was just about to,actually,” Fitz cut in to (incorrectly) answer her unfinished question. Hecarefully set the tech and his tools down on the desk, finally turning to hercompletely. “Y’know, the strangest thing just happened – someone left a wholebunch of books on babies on my desk.”He chuckled, shaking his head. “I can see someonehere’s going to be doing some expanding soon – in more ways than one.” When heelbowed her playfully at the joke, she laughed weakly. “They must’ve put themdown on my desk for a moment and then forgot about it, but I dropped ‘em off inthe common room where they’ll hopefully find them.”

“Hopefully,” Jemma repeated tightly, already crossing today’sventure off of her mental list.

-

After a long day of working with Fitz on repairing Daisy’sdamaged gauntlets then doing a grueling analysis on the rather destructivepowers of the (potential) Inhuman that had caused said damage – and of course,being pregnant, which was utterly exhausting in and of itself – Jemma wasabsolutely drained by the time she returned to their apartment that night. Fitzwas still held up finishing at the Playground, and normally she’d wait up forhim, but that was off the table for tonight; she loved Fitz more than anything(well…almost anything), but some things were just more important.

However, even though she was already half-asleep, Jemma wasnot going to waste a single opportunity to get through the thick skull of herhusband (even if this attempt wasn’t the most well thought out of her plans),so before she allowed her head to hit the pillow, she left him a littlesomething on his.

When she woke up the next morning, it was to the sight of asleepy Fitz smiling down at where she was curled up on his chest. Suddenlyremembering the surprise she’d left him, Jemma felt her heart leap with hope asshe said searchingly, “Good morning…”

“’Morning.” One of his hands came up to brush away a waywardstrand of hair from her cheek. Abruptly, he made a face at her. “Hey, y’know, Idon’t mind you reading your gross biology books in bed, but try to keep ‘em onyour side, will you? I really don’t need to be having nightmares of cat livers,or any other organs for that matter.”

Jemma’s incredulous gaze darted to the side table next toher end of the bed, and sure enough, the biology text she’d left open on hispillow to the section about egg fertilization was now closed and resting thereinstead.

Seriously?!

Letting out a groan of annoyance, she abruptly rolled awayfrom a confused Fitz and climbed out of bed to go empty her bladder –Fitz maystill not have a clue that she was pregnant, but she didn’t have the same luxury.

-

The following Sunday was Father’s Day, traditionally not oneof Fitz’s favorite days of the year, which was why Jemma was so sure that usingit to her advantage was the perfect way to turn a bad memory into a good one(and finally share the news that shewas so desperate to give him – this hadto be the one that would get through to him, she was sure of it).

They’d just finished breakfast, and as Jemma was carryingtheir dirty dishes to the sink, she called over her shoulder to Fitz, “Oh, Iforgot to check the mail yesterday. Could you…?”

“Sure thing,” Fitz replied easily, stepping briefly out oftheir apartment and returning a few minutes later, flicking through their mail.

With bated breath, Jemma watched, pressing her lips togetherto hide her smile when he paused on a particular piece.

“What the…?” Fitz frowned, absently tossing the rest of themail onto the end table next to the couch as he focused on the one in his hand.It was a card, “Happy Father’s Day!”printed in bright bold letters on the front. He flipped it over to glance atthe plain back, but found no name or writing of any kind. “That’s strange…” Heheld up the card to display for Jemma. “Must’ve been put in the wrong mailbox.S’too bad – if there was a name or something, I could pass it along to whoever itwas meant for.”

And with a small shrug, Fitz then unceremoniously tossed thecard in the nearest bin.

The spoon Jemma had been holding clattered noisily into thesink, clearly startling Fitz, but she was too caught up in complete and utter disbelief to care. Taking a few deepbreaths to calm herself, she decided that enough was enough and the time wassubtlety was over.

By tomorrow night, Fitz was going to know about her pregnancy, even if she had to make up abanner that said ‘I’m pregnant you fool!’and hang it above their front door.

-

The next night, Jemma was curled up in their bed, tablet inhand to try and look preoccupied as she waited impatiently for Fitz to join herand happen upon the final clue she was going to give him before she justsnapped and told him plainly that she was pregnant and seriously worried abouthis intellectual status as a genius.

It was another few minutes before Fitz entered the room, andthey shared a tired smile as he climbed into bed beside her. Predictably, hefluffed his pillow to get it more comfortable, then laid his head down…

“What the…hell?”Frowning, Fitz sat up a bit, leaning his weight on his elbow and reaching underthe pillow. When his hand came back, it was curled around a handful ofpregnancy tests, all positive. “Uh…” Nearly dropping the tests in his haste,Fitz sat up fully and turned to gape at Jemma.

Arching an eyebrow, Jemma nodded to the tests and saiddryly, “You better put those back under there – I’ve heard if you leave apositive pregnancy test under your pillow, a stork will bring you a baby innine months.”

Fitz blinked a couple of times, seeming about to speakseveral times but no words came. Finally, the first thing out of his mouth was,“Did you really just say ‘stork’?”

Not missing a beat, Jemma replied, “Oh, I absolutely did. Ifigured if you were so ridiculously oblivious that you hadn’t noticed what I’vebeen trying to tell you for weeksnow, then you must be oblivious enough that you don’t know where babies comefrom.”

“Of course I –”Fitz’s thunderstruck expression melted into one of confusion. “Wait, weeks? When did you…?” Then, his eyesgrew wide and he groaned. “Oh bloody hell,the baby books and…and the card and…shit, the bloody biology textbook. Itnever even occurred to me…”

“Clearly.” Rolling her eyes fondly, Jemma couldn’t help butadd, “And you forgot the calendar in the kitchen – I circled my due date in redright after I found out.”

“That’s what thatmeant.” Fitz covered his face with a hand and groaned again. “I thought Iforgot something important somehow, but I reckoned I had nine months to figureit out…” Dropping his hand back into his lap, he winced and muttered, “Okay, Iguess I am pretty oblivious.”

A smile beginning to tug at her lips, Jemma set her tabletaside and patted Fitz’s arm. “It’s alright, I’ll still have your baby anyway.”

Fitz went silent, gaze dropping back to the pregnancy testshe still held, then moving to zero in on her stomach. “Baby,” he repeated, the idea of what this all meant finally seemingto hit him. “Holy…” The tests fell to the blankets, forgotten, as Fitz pulledJemma into the circle of his arms. “We’re having a baby. A baby…” He couldn’tseem to stop himself from repeating the word over and over, amazement coloringhis voice.

Jemma buried her beaming smile into the space between hisneck and shoulder. “Yes, we are,” she murmured into his skin. “You have no ideahow hard it’s been waiting to tell you.” Her body beginning to shake withbarely-contained laughter, she admitted, “I wanted to have a cute story to telleveryone about how you found out, but I almost think this is better.”

Letting out a low moan of despair, Fitz asked, “You’re goingto tell everyone we know, aren’t you? Daisy’s never gonna let me live this down.”

In response, Jemma simply pulled back slightly so that hecould see her mischievous smirk.

-

A few months later, when Jemma’s stomach had swollen into arapidly growing little baby bump, they’d gathered their friends in the lab onceeveryone else had left for the day. The very same websites that had suggestedthe unique pregnancy announcements Jemma had attempted to use on Fitz had alsomentioned the idea of gender reveal parties, and something about the idea hadstood out to her. Perhaps the biggest part of her decision to go through withit though, was that they seemed to have so few things to celebrate whileworking with SHIELD, and making a bigger deal out of those few things usually wenta ways in making up for that.

But, of course, just because Jemma was taking tips fromparenting sites didn’t mean they couldn’t make the idea their own.

As she slipped a pair of safety goggles over her head, Jemmaasked May, “Are you ready?”

May, who had agreed to hold the information of their baby’sgender until today, nodded and held up the two covered beakers Jemma hadprepared earlier that day. There were two sets of them, one that contained thechemicals necessary to create a blue solution, and the other pink. She’dpointed out which was which to May, and then left the rest up to her.

“Now Fitz, in case you don’t understand, pink means a girl and blue means a boy,” Daisy explained slowly through thehuge grin on her face. The story of Fitz’s unbelievable obliviousness hadbecome something of an ongoing joke around the Playground, particularly withtheir team; Daisy especially seemed keen to never let him forget it, just asFitz had predicted.

“Ha-ha,” Fitzmuttered, throwing a scowl in Daisy’s direction, to which she responded bysticking out her tongue.

“It is a bit archaic,” Jemma admitted, accepting one of the beakersfrom May with a grateful smile, “but it is a good way to get the word out toour friends and family. And I’ll admit, I do enjoy the surprise element of itall – it’s exciting.”

As Fitz slipped his own goggles over his head and received thesecond beaker from May, he double-checked with Daisy, “You’re ready to film,right? We’ll never hear the end of it from our families if this isn’tdocumented for them to witness as well.”

“Ready!” Daisy confirmed, giving him a thumb’s up with onehand, the other holding up her phone.

“Okay,” Jemma started, turning to Fitz with a breathlesslyexcited smile, “on three?”

He nodded in agreement, and they began to count downtogether, “One, two, three…”

And on three, they both emptied the contents of theirbeakers into the third waiting on the lab bench in front of them. The reactionbegan instantly, and within moments, the beaker contained a brilliant pinksolution.

Blinking back tears, Jemma shared a watery grin with Fitz asthe lab filled with calls of congratulations from the others (and a cry of “Babydresses here I come!” from Daisy). She wrapped her arms around him in a fiercehug, burying her face in his shoulder (well, as best she could while stillwearing her goggles).

“Don’t need to tell me that one twice,” Fitz teased quietly,bringing one of his hands around to press against her rounded stomach, whichthey now knew housed their daughter.

Jemma let out a teary laugh, shaking her head as she pulledback to meet his eyes, practically glowing with happiness. Finally tugging hergoggles off and carefully pushing Fitz’s onto the top of his head, she leanedup to kiss him, both of them smiling into it. “What a relief,” she murmuredagainst his lips.

[zarahoffman]

Meghan Markle's Birthday Gift List*

Meghan—like many of us this summer—will be spending her birthday celebrating someone else's big day. This Saturday, the royal crew will reportedly be heading to the countryside to be a part of the nuptials between Prince Harry's groomsman, Charlie van Straubenzee and his soon-to-be-wife and videographer Daisy Jenks.

Having had her own, rather large, wedding this year, we're sure she doesn't find forgoing a few celebratory moments for her 37th birthday. However, we would hope that the newlyweds might have other plans up their sleeves for a belated 'do (maybe another trip to Botswana?), and we're certain that the dashing prince has some thoughtful gifting ideas up his regal sleeves. Judging from the heirloom aquamarine ring Harry passed from his mother, Diana, to Meghan on their wedding day, we know this is a boy who puts some effort into his gifting strategy—no last-minute Interflora fluff-ups here, thanks.

With such thoughts fresh in our minds, we admit to getting carried away and generating our own (entirely imaginary and speculative) gift wish list. If we were Meghan (one can dream), then the following lovely things would be jotted down well in advance, left open in browsers on one's laptop, and perhaps accidentally send over as e-commerce shopping links to the family Whatsapp group. Whoops!

Keep reading for Meghan Markle's birthday gift list, as imagined by our editors.

As J.Lo once famously said, "my love don't cost a thing." We are certain that Meghan isn't the grabby, greedy, materialistic type, so the first order of the birthday proceedings will surely revolve around a big ol' smacker of a kiss from H.

Striding ahead as Meghan's most-worn shoe brand, we'd say it's a safe bet to just keep buying her more and more from Aquazzura. In public, she tends to wear nude courts, but we'd imagine these sassy little numbers would be perfect off-duty party attire.

As Meghan's wedding and engagement rings are silver, it makes complete sense to get a watch to match ASAP. This Cartier classic will be forever in fashion and isn't as expensive as some styles… Pleeeease?

Since designing Meghan's wedding dress, Givenchy has been favoured by the new royal on multiple occasions. It's tricky buying clothes for people, so we'd recommend a crossbody bag in a plain colour because the lady does love a crossbody bag in a plain colour.

Oh, how they chuckled in bed together drinking coffee from their very own royal wedding mugs.

Preferably a Louis XV chaise longue. And preferably with a Kindle and a flake and nothing/no-one else. Ta.

If only we knew… What we do know is her handbag collection inside and out though. 

Charlotte Olympia has collaborated with Ladurée to create the most fashionable macaroons and tea blend you've probably ever seen. The collection doesn't drop until August 29, but we would assume Hazza could pull some strings. Maybe she could even share the loose tea leaves with HRH, as they appear to get on so jolly well.

Dreaming of a being a duchess or princess someday? Then you'll have probably imagined the pony to boot. Okay, maybe you didn't imagine it'd be a Shetland wearing the same tartan coat as you, but we know she's in this for the laughs as well as the love.

Being thoroughly modern royals, Harry and Meghan urged well-wishers to donate to charity rather than shower them with material goods and treats on their wedding day. You can see the list of their chosen funds and associations here.

Everyone loves being treated to a romantic break, right? And these two haven't exactly had the most private 2018 thus far. So we'd recommend that Harry checks out this insanely cool Norwegian tree hotel. There's a huge hammock for stargazing, plus minimalist rooms (we know Meghan isn't one for pomp and fuss), husky-drawn sleds, a wood-fired sauna and so much more.

Book 7th Room on Canopy & Stars for £1222 per night.

One does likes fashion! Okay, you can't buy someone a seat at LFW (as far as we know), but we'd love for this to happen.

source https://www.whowhatwear.co.uk/meghan-markle-birthday-gift-list--5b619c942dd0e

[dreamycarat]

The Cardiothoracic Surgeon's Wife

Characters: Choi Seungcheol & Daisy Genre: slight angst Words: 2243 words Summary: Being married to a surgeon is also hard The marriage is just an impulse. Daisy has never thought that she would overcome the death of her parents with a marriage with Seungcheol. It is not planned thoroughly. Daisy just happens to be in front of the city hall when she is talking to Seungcheol on the phone and the idea just pops in her mind - to get married. On the next day, here they are, in the city hall, together with Seungcheol's parents, reciting their vows with eyes glued on each other. "Daisy," Seungcheol says with a small smile on his face, "I could promise to love you and cherish you. I could promise to always be there by your side every second of everyday. I could promise to always give you happiness and keep you from the tears. But I won't. Those vows are for optimistic couple. And I don't stand here, on our wedding way, being optimistic. I am not. I am not hopeful, I am sure…" Seungcheol takes a deep breath, "I am a cardiothoracic surgeon. I take out hearts, fix them and put them back together. I fix hearts. Thus, I know that you are my partner, my perfect match, my very own best friend and my heart. And on this day, I can promise you…" Seungcheol holds Daisy's hand. "Me." Daisy somehow forgets to breath. She is speechless. She is touched. However, the vow she remembered ten minutes ago just disappears. Poof. Nothing. "And the bride, you may-" Daisy doesn't hear anything. Her mind is busy trying to find some words to put into her new vow. "Daisy," Seungcheol calls. She blinks. "Um- I- I-" she stutters. She is doomed. "Slowly," Seungcheol calms her down, caressing the back of her palm. Daisy takes a really deep breath. "I am a scriptwriter," Daisy finally speaks, "I write scripts for dramas and movies. And I have written too many romantic dialogues that I always cring when I read them." Daisy doesn't like how casual she sounds. "Anyway, the point is, I forget my vow. And I don't know what to say, despite all the dialogues I have written. Because no words in this world could describe my happiness right now. And Seungcheol, I can assure you that you would never regret the decision to marry me. I can promise you my world." Daisy finally smiles. "And you may now kiss the bride." - Honeymoon never happens. Seungcheol is too busy working at the top hospital in the country. He doesn't want to take a leave for even a day because he insists that the hospital needs him. Daisy needs him too, she states. "I need to save lives, honey." Seungcheol gives her a peck on her forehead and leaves. - Seungcheol was a second-year resident when they first met in the hospital. He assisted the chief of cardiothoracic department to perform the Humpty Dumpty surgery on her father. Daisy was astonished when Seungcheol talked medicine to her. He sounded very professional, very smart too. And when her father died out of complications after the surgery, Seungcheol's soft apology killed her inside. She needed someone to blame but she couldn't blame him. He tried his best. "It's not your fault," he said, wrapping his strong arms around her fragile body. Her knees weakened and she was trembling so hard, trying to blink back her tears because her father wouldn't want her to cry over his death. "You can cry," he breathed, "I'm here. It's okay to cry." - Daisy sometimes wishes to tell Seungcheol how bored she really is at home with no one to talk to. But he is rarely home. She tries to go to the outside world and meet some new people but she fails immediately. Daisy is not a friendly person to begin with. She doesn't initiate the conversation, even with Seungcheol. She is awkward as heck. But the funny thing is, she is a scriptwriter. She has written scripts for more than 20 hit movies and dramas. But she is still awkward when it comes to meeting new people. How is that even possible? She doesn't even know. - Daisy now realizes that marriage doesn't really change anything. Even after their first anniversary, Seungcheol is still so busy. Daisy doesn't mind though, because she is also busy with her script for a new romantic drama. She has Park Haejin in her mind when she writes, because she honestly loves his acting. And he suits the main character as well. As for the heroin, she thinks of Yoon Eun Hye. But the thing is, the drama is about her. It is about a love story between a scriptwriter and a surgeon. And their marriage. SBC Production has already contacted her to discuss more about the drama. The director tells her that he likes her idea, saying that the storyline is refreshing. And she has already signed the contract to write a 20-episodes drama. "I signed the contract to write a drama with SBC," Daisy tells Seungcheol when he asks her how her day is. This has been going for a few days now, after Daisy told Seungcheol that she wanted them to have more conversations. Seungcheol felt bad after she finally confessed but she assured him that she understood his responsibility as a surgeon. "That's amazing," Seungcheol tries to exclaim. Daisy notices how his eyes shine for a little while before they dim under the light of their bedroom. She lets that slip, seeing how exhausted Seungcheol might have been after performing a 10-hours surgery on his patient. "I might have to go to the hospital early tomorrow," Seungcheol says, caressing Daisy's long hair. She nods. "Okay. Good night." Seungcheol closes his eyes and falls asleep in an instant. Daisy lays beside him and stared at his face, thinking and thinking of their days. She feels bored to be home alone at times, and Seungcheol has made it clear that he is a cardiothoracic surgeon, but- Daisy thinks her problem can be overcame with the presence of a baby. - Seungcheol once told Daisy before their marriage that he wanted to have four children - 3 sons and a daughter, to be exact. However, when Daisy tries to talk about having children with him, his face turns into a visible frown. "Now?" Daisy senses a hint of disapproval in his deep voice. Seungcheol puts away his laptop and sits beside his wife on the edge of the bed. "Why not? We get older every second, Seungcheol." Seungcheol lets out a heavy sigh. "We are both so busy, honey." Daisy wants to tell him that they can arrange their schedules and make time to take care of their kids later. She would stop writing scripts if she has to, but she knows better than Seungcheol doesn't want to hear any of it. Seungcheol has told her that he doesn't want to be the kind of husband who makes his wife stop doing what she loves. Thus, it is better for her to say nothing. "Okay." - Daisy's work is quite stressful these days. She is suddenly facing writer's block and she needs to finish the script fast. The director is not even helping when he calls every hour to know about her progress. He annoys her even more when he scolds her for writing so slow and being uneffective. Unprogressive. With Seungcheol being promoted as the head of cardiothoracic department, they spend lesser time together. They rarely talk now. They grow distant and distant since both are too focused on their respective work. They barely see each other now. When Seungcheol comes home at night, Daisy is away for the drama shooting. When she comes home, he is already at the hospital. Sometimes Seungcheol would call her during his free time, asking how the drama shooting is going on and such. But the calls only last for 5 minutes. As time passes by, the 5 minutes turn into 4. And lesser and lesser that, eventually, they just stop contacting each other. But they don't mind. Daisy's drama is a huge hit, starring Park Haejin and Im Yoona, since Yoon Eun Hye rejected the offer. On the other hand, Seungcheol is trying to print a 3D heart. They are at the peak of their career and they don't realize that it ruins their marriage. Literally. - Daisy is struggling to write the ending of the drama. Everyone wants a happy ending, obviously, but she doesn't. Somehow. In her eyes, a couple won't work out when they are too immersed into their work. They should learn to balance their precious time together. But at the same time, she doesn't want a sad ending as well. The drama is about her, anyway. She doesn't want an ending. However, she still hasn't talked to Seungcheol about their relationship. She wants to find a suitable time to discuss about them. She needs him to spare her some time. But, of course, a surgeon doesn't have any time to spare. He saves lives every minute. Daisy, however, still hopes that he would spend some time to talk about them. When Seungcheol comes home late at night, Daisy tries to start a conversation, a normal one about how his day is, before she eventually talks about their relationship. But all he says is, "I'm tired." She says nothing, only nods because every time Seungcheol lays on the bed, he automatically shuts down. It is as if he hasn't been sleeping in days. He is that exhausted. It is not his fault, literally, because she signs up for this. - The director's face screams amusement - in a sarcastic way - when Daisy comes to him to seek for his idea. They are seated in a small cafe near the SBC building, with a cup of coffee in their hands, discussing about the drama. The director fakes a chuckle before saying that she should surprise him with the ending - it's her story, anyway. He doesn't want a happy ending, but he clearly opposes a sad ending. "Can we not have an ending?" "Even better!" The director exclaims sarcastically before rolling his small eyes. Daisy sighs. To be frank, Daisy feels as if her mind is going to explode. And the man with wrinkles all over his face is not even helping her to get through the hardest part of writing a script when he hints the birds. "Why birds?" Daisy asks, furrowing her straight eyebrows. The older man sips on his black coffee before looking at the blue sky. "Free as heck." - It takes Daisy long enough to solve the puzzle. She now knows about the freedom the director means. And so, here she is, outside of her house with a luggage in her right hand and a phone in her other hand, calling her husband. "Yes, honey?" The voice brings her down the memory lane, when she first met him. It reminds her of the amazement she felt when he spoke medicine to her, which he doesn't, anymore. "Are you going to say something or-" Daisy is too immersed in her thoughts to hear anything. "Honey?" Daisy never gets to tell him how she loves it when he calls her. "I have a surgery in ten minutes. What is it?" He always has surgeries, she scoffs in her head. "I'm moving on," Daisy finally says. Seungcheol seems to be pausing, because he hasn't said anything. She only hears a heavy exhale over the phone. "What do you mean?" "I- I'm not- I'm not happy with our marriage," she stutters. She doesn't like how her whole body is trembling because it makes her sound weak. She is going to end her relationship with the only person she has in this world and she cannot seem weak. "You are rarely home. We don't talk anymore. We are literally strangers now, Seungcheol. We are only married on a piece of paper. And that is depressingly sad. Because you are my person..." Daisy has to pause. Her sobs are getting in her way. "I only have you now. But you're not here. You promised me you when we got married. But where were you when I needed you? I want to have a decent conversation with you every day, asking how your day is. I want you to talk medicine to me. I want to look at your shining eyes when you tell me about the surgeries you have performed..." Daisy sobs, "I want you to love me more than you love surgeries." "Honey-" "But you don't. You choose surgeries over me. You only married me because you can't marry surgeries legally. But it's fine, Seungcheol, because I love you. I love you so much." And she hangs up. Because if she lets him talk, she's afraid she'll stay and spend her lifetime in the big house alone. The thought scares the hell out of her. Before she leaves, she puts a bouquet of sweet pea on what it seems to be their bed. Then, she puts a bouquet of yellow sweetbrier before the front door. This is because she doesn't get to tell him those painful things. You see, each flower has its own meaning. Sweet pea means 'goodbye and thank you for the lovely time'. Yellow sweetbrier, on the other hand, means 'let us forget'. Daisy takes a good look at the house one last time. Yeah, she's going to be fine.