#unlike some people i have a memory longer than a week

[killbaned]

me at the truthful detectives fandom

[the-monstermash]

UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt. 4

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, Mentions of Sex, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Time-Appropriate Sexism, 

Word Count: 3,226

> A/N: I did a crazy amount of time jumping, and also I had to cut the last part into two more parts SO SORRY

Aemond had taken much longer than a week, and things had certainly not been peaceful in the house ever since. The girls had lost their mind upon learning that not only had you finally accepted Aemond, but you were to marry. Of course, you’d explained the past betrothal and the reason behind his insistence, and they’d swooned at the idea of a prince searching for his long lost love, to which you reminded them you had never met when this first proposal happened.

That didn’t deter them one bit, and when he sent word of when he’d come to get you, they’d passed the letter around to read it and gushed.

According to witnesses, Sylvi broke a goblet upon hearing the news, and locked herself in her room to avoid others ever since. She was not the type to cause a scene, but she would not play nice to keep the peace, either.

When that day finally did arrive, the girls had  insisted on trying to  make you look presentable. Brushing the knots from your hair, applying a light rouge and smelling oils. They’d each given you something of theirs. Necklaces, trinkets, things to remember them by.

“As if I could ever forget you girls.” You’d said when Maria insisted on you having her favorite hair pin. “Thank you so much.” She pulled you into a deep hug, squeezing as if to commit the feel to memory.

“You know you’ll never see us again, when you marry?” Zora’s flat voice made the girls shoot her annoyed looks. “It won’t do for a princess to visit a whorehouse, and we can’t exactly go to the castle at leisure.”

“My situation is unlike other Ladies, I’m sure they would make an exception for me. I’ll come back, even if I have to sneak away.” They smiled, but they didn’t reach their eyes. There was something very final about this goodbye, even with the promises made.

“Sylvi made sure to be busy today, didn’t she?” Maria joked with a dry chuckle, likely an attempt to change the subject. “She’s probably in some back alley, crying herself to death.”

“Have compassion, she’s losing her two favorite people in one day.” Lauryn’s sarcastic jab at you made you sigh and look away.

“I’m sure I won’t be missed in that regard. Besides, it’s probably for the best that we leave things as they were. Before all this.” You gestured to your packed bags.

Sounds of hoofs on the cobblestone brought everyone’s attention outside, where a carriage was pulling up to the entrance. The girls crowded the entryway, looking on to see if someone would step out of the carriage. When only a footman appeared in front of you, you had to swallow down the disappointment you felt at Aemond not being present to take you to the castle.

“My Lady, the Prince sends his deepest apologies that he could not be here himself to retrieve you. Urgent matters have kept him at the castle, but be assured, he is there awaiting your arrival. If I could grab your things.” The girls began lugging out your trunk. You’d not accumulated much over the years, and what you had, you couldn’t use in the keep. Most of what you were bringing were gifts from the other girls.

You’d thanked the footman for loading your luggage for you, and turned to say your final goodbyes to everyone before he helped you into the carriage.

“It won’t be long, ma’am.” He’d reassured you, and you’d nodded and smiled before settling into the seat as he closed the door and set off.

The ride hadn’t been long, though it had felt like an eternity. When you stopped to let the gates open, you’d considered jumping out and making a run for it, but you knew that was just jitters.

The carriage pulled in to the gates, and made its’ final stop, the footman stepping down and opening the door to let you out.

You immediately began searching for Aemond, but to your dismay he wasn’t there, only who you’d assumed to be Dowager Queen Alicent, and Queen Helaena. You walked to greet them, bowing as well as you’d remembered.

“It’s a shame your parents couldn’t be here with you. Aemond sent for them days ago, so they should arrive within the next few days.” Alicent’s voice was stressed, as if she carried the weight of the seven kingdoms on her shoulders, and you could tell she was not happy to be the one sent to greet you. “I’ll have a maid show you to your chambers, I’m sure you’ll want to prepare yourself for dinner.” You spoke before she could turn away.

“I had hoped to see Aemond.”

“Yes, well the prince is kept very busy around here, his brother, the king, keeps him close. Especially with the war coming, as you know Aemond is invaluable in our efforts.”

Something in her words told you she meant to say you’re here to keep Aemond happy. You nodded, showing the disappointment clearly on your face.

“He’ll find you before dinner, I’m sure.” She turned to walk away, stopping to order a maid, which you followed to your chambers.

The chambers were grand, as expected, but you were not overwhelmed by them. You were more concerned with your betrothed and his presence. Or absence, moreso. You’d been left to your devices, choosing to sit on a settee and twiddle your fingers, sigh, and huff in frustration. In reality, it had only been about half an hour before your door opened, revealing the one person you had been waiting to see.

“Aemond!” You jumped up from your seat, meeting him halfway and pulling him into a tight embrace. “You did not come to retrieve me this morning. You did not even greet me.”

“My apologies, my lady wife. The King has kept me very busy, I would’ve  put off your retrieval again so I could get you myself, but I could not wait to have you here.” He kissed your scalp, inhaling the scent curiously. “You smell nice, I’ve missed it. I’ve missed you.” He pulled away to hold your hands in his before leaning in for a kiss, which you happily reciprocated.

Aemond’s hands met your waist, pulling you against him and wrapping his arms around you to hold you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands tangling with his snowy hair, and pulling him to deepen the kiss. Your lips moved in sync with one another, a display of passion and desire so strong it could stop the world. Your tongue reached out to meet his, rough and unlike his smooth lips, and you would’ve heard him groan if not for the sound of your heart thumping in your ears.

He pulled away to catch his breath, resting his forehead against yours and panting.

“I’ve missed you, too.” You smiled up at him, pulling away to sit on the soft bed. You patted the spot beside you, and he quickly joined at your side.

“The wedding is in two weeks, I’ve made the necessary arrangements, I hope you find it to your liking.”

“I don’t care what the wedding looks like, only the groom.” His lips turned up at that. “Your mother said my parents will be here soon, I can’t wait to see them again. Will there be many other guests?”

“Likely our allied houses, but they shouldn’t arrive for at least a week’s time. I’ve tried my best to clear my schedule after the wedding, but it seems the war is coming faster than any of us had anticipated. I had even thought to steal my bride away on Vhagar, even for a short while.”

“I understand, Aemond. You’re needed here.” Your words were meant to be reassuring, but the lilt in your voice betrayed you. “I had only hoped we’d have more time to know each other, and…to make up for the lost time.”

“We’ll do plenty of making up, don’t you worry.” His sly smirk sent a shiver down your spine, both of fear and desire. “My mother had requested to have you checked to see if you were still pure, but I assured her of your innocence. She did not believe me, of course, but she had dropped the matter. I think she is just happy for me.” He leaned in to place a soft kiss on your jawline, his large hand going to the nape of your neck, to massage the tight muscle, earning a grown from you. “I like that noise.” His kisses traveled down to your collarbone, and his hands began massaging your waist.

You were nervous to explore Aemond more than you already had. To explore anyone, really. You’d never even thought about what would happen on your wedding night, because you’d never considered you’d have a wedding night. Years of rejecting any sense of affection had left you uneducated in the personal ways of lovemaking. Of course you’d heard things, and even seen things, but that was just sex. You and Aemond were meant to make love, and sire heirs. How different was that from what you’d seen in the whorehouse? Did he expect you to have much experience because of where you’d been? He knew you were a virgin, but perhaps he thought they’d taught you things.

Your thoughts were beginning to blur as you felt him begin to push you back on the bed. You pulled away from him in a panic and stood, pacing away from the bed.

“Are you alright?” He was breathless and obviously a little taken aback by your sudden retreat, combing through his hair and rubbing his lips together.

“Yes! Yes, I am fine. I just think…” You scanned your brain for some reason that wouldn’t seem like rejection, finding none. “I am afraid, Aemond.”

“Of me.” He nodded in understanding.

“No! Gods, no. Of…well, yes, of you. But, not of you, of…you know…you.” You gestured towards his groin, unable to force the words out of your mouth. It was embarrassing to have lived among whores and not even be able to say the word sex, and even more embarrassing to have to explain your situation to Aemond, of all people, who you had met in a whorehouse. His chuckle only served to further your mortification. “Well, do not laugh! I am a lady, after all. I should not know of these things, or how to speak of them.”

“I mean no offense, my lady. Only that I had not expected such bashful demeanor from you. Especially after our night in your rooms.”

“That was just kissing. And I was…swept away, in your passionate words and gestures. This would be different, it would mean…well, I could get pregnant.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “Now, or in two weeks' time, when we consummate our marriage. Either way, I’m happy to wait, lady wife. But you must not be so alluring in these coming weeks. You can hardly expect a man to resist you.” He stood from your bed, and stepped over to the settee in front of the fireplace. “Perhaps we should avoid the bed as well.”

“I was not being alluring, I was simply being myself. A woman should do that in front of her betrothed, so he knows she is a match.”

“Yourself is the most alluring thing you could be in my presence.” That struck you speechless, and you elected to just walk over to where he was sitting, too awkward to sit with him normally. “Perhaps a tour of the keep.” He sighed, standing up to guide you out of the room.

The next two days had passed rather dully, with Aemond holding you at an arm's length, and preferring to meet you in public. You’d been on walks, dined together, and made a few last minute wedding decisions for the upcoming nuptials.

You were sitting in the garden with Aemond when you heard the gates to the red keep begin opening. You could only assume it was your parents, as no other guests were set to arrive any day soon. You quickly rushed to welcome them, leaving the flowers you had been weaving on the ground along with Aemond, who rose to follow you.

Reuniting with your parents had been a dream, they had taken you into their arms and sobbed, as had you. Your mother had a few choice words about your disappearance, but understood the reasoning of a scared young girl. Besides, things had seemed to work themself out in the end.

You’d stayed with your parents all the way up until after dinner, when they both  showed signs of fatigue, at which point Aemond had elected to walk you to your chambers, taking deliberate slow steps to prolong the moment alone.

“Are you happy with your reunification?”

“Oh, Aemond, I don’t know how I could ever thank you. They’re just as I remember them, but so much more. I can tell how my leaving hurt them, and I don’t think we can ever get that time back. But now, thanks to you, they know I am well and safe. I am truly in your debt.”

“Consider it a wedding gift.” He had shrugged as you reached your doors. The guards immediately opened the door for you, and you stepped in slowly before turning back to him. “Might I come in? Just for a moment, there’s something I wanted to discuss about our wedding.”

He came in at your nod, the doors closing behind the two of you. You had began undoing your hair from the tight wound updo. Aemond had watched in silence for a while, until you reminded him of his needed discussion.

“I had been giving thought to our wedding night.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“What of it?”

“Will you not find it difficult to bear a bedding ceremony?”

“Are those not outdated?”

“They’re tradition. My mother has been rather insistent on it.”

“But it is not your mother’s wedding, it is your wedding. Do you want a bedding ceremony?” As your hair was finally let down, you began brushing out the knots. Aemond had hummed in response to your question, causing you to sigh. “I do not wish to be subjected to the eyes of strangers on what is supposed to be our night together. I want to be alone with you, we so rarely are anymore.”

“That is because I find it hard to be near you and not want you.” You rolled your eyes. “My mother will put up a fight over the ceremony, she wants to know that you are still a maiden. If it’s not a bedding ceremony, it could be the maesters. I do not know which one you’d find more unpleasant.”

“I will not do either, Aemond. I have lived a very difficult life off the premise of my own autonomy, and I will not turn my back to it now. Your mother will have to see reason. Or perhaps you should tell her you’ve already had me.” He looked stunned at this.

“Why would you say that?”

“If she thinks you’ve already…defiled me, there’ll be no question of my maidenhood, and no way to know if I’ve only had you, or others, so checking will be fruitless.” I set my brush down and turned towards him from my vanity chair.

“You would have me dishonor your already sullied name?” He seemed offended even at the thought, his voice shaking.

“As you said, my name is already sullied, what difference will it make? They think I’m a whore, Aemond!” I stood from my vanity and walked to stand before him. “They wish to make a mockery of me with these invasions. They don’t want to reassure themselves, they want to confirm what they already believe. I am not good enough for them, and they want a reason to reject this union.” His jaw ticked and his head shook slightly at the thought.

“I won’t let them reject it.”

“And how would you stop them?” I asked sarcastically.

“We simply do the ceremony! It is a woman’s expectation to be pure for her husband, and you are marrying a prince. It’s sound reasoning to expect this.”

“Well, perhaps that is another reason I ran away in the first place!” I turned from him, but he grabbed my arm and forced me to turn back around.

“I do not want to fight with you about this.” He sighed. “If you truly will not have it, we’ll just have to figure something else out.”

“They won’t let us marry, Aemond, I told you this. It was a fool’s dream to think you would have your way in this.”

“I’ll marry you now. Tonight. We’ll sneak to the Godswood and get married in the old way. They’ll have to recognize it, especially if we consummate.”

“You really want to fuck me, don’t you?” The joke was ill-timed, and a sad attempt to break the tension.

“I want to marry you. And I shall. Let’s go.”

“Right now?”

“They’ll not expect it. By the time anyone notices we’ve left, it’ll be too late.”

“But who will marry us? Do the old ways not call for the head of your house to consent?”

“Aegon?” He snorted. “That piss-soaked sack is probably deep in his cups tonight. It will be nothing to convince him. I’ll get him, and meet you in the Godswood. Wait a bit after I leave, and pretend as though you’re on a walk to clear your head. I’ll be there under the heart tree, waiting.”

You did as Aemond bid, sitting in the settee for a short while, finishing brushing through your hair and electing to wear it down. Finally, you decided to head towards the Godswood.

The walk there was relatively short, so you paused outside the entrance to the Godswood and took a few deep breaths.

“It is quite cold tonight for King’s Landing, no?” The voice of your mother made you turn around quickly, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Mother! What are you doing out here?” The panic in your voice obviously raised suspicion.

“What are you doing out here? Unchaperoned, standing outside the Godswood?”

“I needed some air. Aemond and I had a fight, I needed to clear my head.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, so saying it only made you feel half as bad.

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes. His mother wants to force a bedding ceremony, but I don’t want one. Aemond says if I don’t do it, she’ll likely want a maester to confirm my maidenhood.”

“She questions your integrity?” She was obviously irked. “And what did Aemond say?” Her eyebrow quirked, and you could tell she already knew the answer, glancing into the Godswood before sighing.

“Mother…” You whispered.

“It’s not my place to tell you what you cannot do. If your Father knew…” She shook her head. “You are a woman grown now, and I can’t stop you if this is what you truly want to do.”

“It is. And I’m going to marry him anyways, this is just…a way for us to do it on our terms.”

“And will you forbid your mother from witnessing the union of her daughter?” You smiled, shaking your head and pulling her into a deep embrace.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @staarflowerr @aemondwhoresworld @uhnanix

[friend-crow]

I think I've rambled about this a little bit before, but I really believe that if we were able to shift our standard burial practice to human composting and memorial tree planting, the impacts could be huge.

Imagine how much more people would care about trees if they were the grave markers of their loved ones (and unlike grave markers, actually grew from the remains of their family). Think of the legal protections people would place on ancestral forests. A lot of people would probably be more invested in learning about the biodiversity needed for a forest to thrive -- not like the bullshit "carbon offset" single species tree plantings used to alleviate consumer guilt.

Some people would probably be motivated to spend more time in and learning about forests. Others probably wouldn't really, but you'd better believe people would be up in arms if they heard that somebody wants to cut down grandpa's tree.

Something I've seen in recent years is that the increase in fires on the west coast has made the reality of climate change a lot more real for a lot of people here. Especially after the week in 2020 when Portland had the worst air quality in the world due to wildfire smoke, people could no longer think of it as something for future generations to deal with. It became clear that we were going to be living with this, effective immediately.

I'm not saying that having ancestral forests would suddenly stop forest fires, but it would be another thing to get more people invested in environmental protections and technology.

And yes, I am on some speculative fiction hippy shit, but dammit, ancestral forests would be cool. Don't you want to remember your loved ones by going and talking to a tree? Or a group of trees? Like yeah, they'd be less permanent than a stone monument, but once an ancestor's tree falls, it can become a nursery log for younger generations.

Don't you want to become part of the forest when you die??

*Disclaimer: idea presented primarily as an alternative to preserving corpses with toxic chemicals and burying them in expensive boxes as is common where I live, and not meant to replace all other cultural traditions related to death and burial. Please don't come at me for responding to the norms of my own culture, I am aware that other cultures exist.

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT I] CHAPTER 11

[Act I] CHAPTER 11

[Name] woke up in her room in Royal Dawn Dormitory. Flora was dozing off on the armchair by her bed. The fairy’s eyes looked puffy from crying. Flora woke up startled by the young girl snorting. The old woman looked at her for a minute before bawling. She was so loud that she could hear running in the mini castle. 

Ambrose barged in the room holding his robe up. He looked disheveled while panting. His eyes darted everywhere before he saw [Name] smiling awkwardly. It was his turn to cry.

“_Oh my sweet child! I was so worried.”

Alerted by the commotion, the other came to see what was happening. Aurelius also teared up as he saw the young girl. She was alive and well. 

“_ Don't scare us like that ever again. 

_ Yes, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to worry.

_ It's not about you worrying us, my dear child. It was dangerous. You could have died.” 

The director said glaring at her worriedly. He wanted to protect her. Not only was she his most delicate student, but she was first and foremost his daughter blood related or not. [Name]’s heart fluttered in front of his sincere eyes.

“_ It's a parent's job to take care and worry about their child. And a father's job to protect their daughter.”

The young girl couldn't say anything. Her heart felt heavy with unknown emotions. She didn't know how to react to it, but it felt good somehow. Like she was waiting for such words, she couldn't stop her tears trailing down her cheek. The old man held her in her arms and [Name] broke down wailing like a little kid. She couldn't help but cry as he hugged her tightly. It was warm. Ambrose’s embrace felt so warm around her. 

A few minutes after, her eyes were puffy and red gaining her some teasing laugh from Vil and the rest. 

“_You look like a baby chick who hatched with your eyes like that.

_Nooo, baby chick are ugly when they hatch.”

[Name] whined still sniffing here and there. The group laughed relieved everyone was alright. They got out with only a few scratch and bruise nothing to heavy. The most worrying peoples were Neige and her who were unconscious for two days. Neige woke up yesterday.

“_About Neige…” 

[Name] started to explain what she saw in his memories as they listened calmly. There was a silence for a moment until Alexis talked.

“_Like I give a fuck! He drugged you! Don't expect me to go easy on him because of his sob story.” 

Aurelius winced at his colorful language but agreed with him nonetheless. [Name] smiled gently at them.

“_ I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm just stating the core reason for Neige's Overblot. Neige is incapable of valuing himself for what he is. For him, his worth can only be equated to his usefulness.” 

She understood this feeling better than anyone. As a former child actor and having grown up in a toxic family, she understood what Neige had gone through. Unlike her, Neige was probably not aware of his own abuse. 

“_ I see… Well, you may want to know. I decided to exclude Neige for a week.

_ Only a week? Don't tell me you are planning to let him go scoff free!”

[Name] looked at Vil who frowned at Ambrose’s words. She wanted to comments on how Crowley is letting every Overblotted students off the hook without any repercussions. Aside from Leona who almost got disqualified for Magicshift. The RSA director only laughed.

“_ Of course not. But I think that everyone can get a second chance, if they do show determination and sincerity. The same could be said for you. When I call for you as a primary suspect, I wanted to give you a chance to defend yourself. And if you were the culprit, a chance to redeem yourself.”

Vil couldn’t say if he was unconfortable or just jealous. The director knew Neige longer than him, so it was normal to trust him more than the actor. On the opposite, Crowley didn’t hesitate to send Vil the moment the school reputation was brought up. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Thanks to Ambrose, Vil was able to return to school. He covered it as a flu, he and [Name] caught that. The young girl coming from a different and closeted “land”, her immunity system was a bit weaker than them. It was the excuse they gave everyone to explain their absences. 

“_Where is Neige? I would like to talk to him before he leave.”

There was another silence. 

“_Hey! You heard her? So, are you going to hide behind that wall longer?”

Alexis growled looking toward the open door. They could see a shoulder flinching but no other mouvement. Seeing that he wasn’t going to move, the gentle-looking boy felt even more pissed.

“_ COME IN!!! YOU PIECE OF S…. syrup! I was going to say syrup.”

Everyone looked at him unconvinced and Aurelius couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. He was going to be in trouble if he continued to swear like a sailor. Vil on other side was wondering if it was a normal for small and delicate looking boys to have a foul mouth. This was the second one after Epel. That being said hearing Neige getting insulted didn’t felt bad. He will acknowledge that Neige’s situation was sad, but it didnt mean he would like him. If anything, he had even more resentment toward him. 

Neige walked inside, his eyes darted to the floor unable to confront their stare. Taking on the cue, Ambrose made everyone leave. Aurelius and Alexis couldn’t help but glare at Neige. 

“_Scream if he try to do anything suspicious. 

_ Yeah, we will beat him for you if he try anything so don’t worry.”

Aurelius and Alexis said while burning hole with their glare on Neige. Vil felt refreshed in a way. Look like RSA too could be a little violent. 

Alone, Neige and [Name] looked at each other for moment. The boy looked devastated, remorse was obvious on his face. 

“_ I’m sorry… I… 

_ I never liked you more than a friend, Neige.”

Neige flinched a little. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He looked at her before smiling at her. He tried to push back on his need to cry. He was  aware, she didn’t share his feeling.He was going to use this week to reflect on it. Deep down he felt like he didn’t have any right on loving her or coveting her affection.

“_ I know… I’m quite aware of it now. I just want to say it at least once. I love you, [Name].”

[Name] was speechless for a moment. His eyes shined with a resolve she never saw in him before. Something changed in him, he looked a little bit more like a man rather than a delicate boy. Both exchanged a small laugh before Neige stood up to leave. She rejected his confession but at least she acknowledged it. 

Neige was walking down the stair under the two freshmen’s glare. It was understandable for them to hate him. Remembering something, he stopped in his tracks and looked at them. 

“_Please, take care of her.

_We don’t need you to tell us that. 

_Just leave already!”

Neige chuckled a little looking at the two. What a duo of  brave little knight they were. 

“_Right, before I forgot. Don’t trust Henry that much.”

Aurelius frowned a little. What does his dormleader have to do with all this? The young man felt his stomach churn. Pushing his worry aside, he walked back inside the bedroom once he was sure Neige left the dorm. 

Act I: Poison of Delusion. (END)

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@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

[kyoghurts]

Hellooooooo, hope you are having an amazing day/night!!! I recently read one of your stories about rayne and his assistant, I absolutely loved it!!!! Had me flipping my hands and giggling a lot l, I really liked the way you characterized him. So I was wondering if you could write about him with a reader that's on outside a little bit like him (people finding them intimidating, socially awkward and smart) but it's actually a lot like Finn (they are a little shy, tends to cry easily and really loyal) I don't know if that makes sense... but anyways aajsjsjajs

im actually an amalgam of these two 🥲 so sorry for not writing this sooner but here you go <3

✶ HAPPY TEARS.

mashle. rayne ames x gn reader

content. fluff & 1.6k wc. this leans more towards platonic relationship but can be interpreted in any form. messy writing bc im back in the slumps.

people often find you smart, it's seen in the numbers etched to your papers and the consistent participation in class, there's a tone of modesty in the way you interact with others, and your quiet nature in medium to large social groups does nothing but earn you the intimidating, or rather, mysterious type of a title.

the admiration of others is bearable, you're lucky you're not too popular, you don't really know how else to go about it. unlike a certain someone whom you're well acquainted with, but not necessarily close to call a friend. he doesn't even pay attention to you when you're not the one initiating a conversation, which is actually convenient for the most part.

rayne ames doesn't bother you like the rest; he'll talk to you if the circumstances deem it necessary. things you can list off as 'school-related' situations, there are days where his generosity reaches far, extending to you for reasons you can't pinpoint. he offers you his notes when you ask, acknowledges your presence by maintaining eye contact until you nod at him and he does the same, walk beside him in silence as if it's a long-time habit —like friends who no longer feel the need to talk in order to maintain the bond, he's already nice enough to feel unbothered with you, that itself is a bond worthy of simple sentiments, if there’s any existing between your bones.

(who are you kidding, of course you’re sentimental. people often befriend you for their own benefit, it makes you want to crawl into yourself, the layers of the title you’re given have grown thicker; no one else can see you when you’re protected by what you have constructed.)

(but deep down, there’s a friend in your bed who accepts your tears as it is, and you’re happy because they don’t speak ill of you behind your back, they let you ramble until you cling to them in your sleep.)

(you’re happy because nobody is here, just you and your pillow, still alone. hurt becomes a friend you’re ready to share with yourself.)

(you’re happy this way, right?)

a particular memory flashes through your mind, one that causes you to flinch from your daze.

(wrong. happiness doesn’t come in a messy rain soaked in your poor pillows. hurt becomes a bully when you place it upon yourself.)

you were having the worst of anxieties when the day strikes you for the report that was supposed to be due by next week. perhaps its your fault in the first place to forget that he’s never been nice to you or to anyone, and he had the audacity to taunt you when you were ready to bite his head off then and there.

there are days where you simply cannot go by without curling into a corner—literally— and easing your worries in private, this day should not be one of them, but it is.

though to save some good news, you already finished your script anyway. and the topic is quite easy than the others, all you have to do is get up and sort your lines and not freak out when eyes are finally set on you. god, you could practically rip your flashcards with how you’ve been fumbling it with aggressive fingers almost tearing the edges right now.

“what are you doing?”

you let out a painful shreak, panting when the air in your lungs have been knocked out. you’re still crouching, but you turn your head and look up to see golden eyes watching you in such a way that you’re considering leaving altogether.

“rayne?” the calmness of your voice is such a comical contrast to your terrified expression that you want to laugh, if not for the current state that you’re in.

“the prof is coming soon. aren’t you getting ready?”

“i am getting ready” you say, almost sounding upset and salty. your gaze flick back to the pointed corner, not wanting to deal anymore of this. “i’m …nervous, okay. i need to think here.”

you close your eyes and sigh. you don’t need to know that rayne pities you at this moment, you don’t really care how he thinks of you, and you know him enough to discern him as the type to not care of someone like you either. you sigh once more and eventually feel composed. it’s enough to keep you intact—for now, at least.

you fall into complete silence, it stays like this for a while until you hear someone sigh behind you and—why is he still here?

“are you done?” he asks when you turn as you give him an incredulous look, as if saying his question is just plain stupid.

you don’t give him an answer. you stand up to your feet, fixing your robe and patting them down…but you can’t resist the strong pull of his gaze, so you meet his eyes once more, only to be taken aback by how…placid he actually is.

no sharpness in his glare. no spite in the refined lines of his face.

you had to ask, “how did you know i was here?”

“i saw you walked out.”

“i mean how did you find me—“

“does it matter?”

your brows knit together in slight tense, “of course it does.”

he walks away, remaining quiet. if that doesn’t piss you off now, you don’t know what will. your glare behind his head as you follow suit is something you wouldn’t imagine yourself to do, but something about rayne just doesn’t sit right with you at all. none of your peers know this sort of hiding spot that you have, and most definitely your personal magic could have detected the slightest track of presence within 100-meter radius range.

he walks up ahead, remaining quiet which irks you more than it should. you follow suit, already drained to keep persisting him. for a moment you think, if he hadn’t showed up, maybe you’d still be in the slump far longer you can’t endure. maybe, a teeny tiny part of you is grateful, but you’re not one to admit that out loud.

instead, you try to keep up with him, placing yourself beside him as placid as you can muster.

he speaks softly, catching you off guard, “you do that when you’re anxious.”

you’re not quite sure what to say, the way he states it is rather declarative than a question, you nod in agreement. no point denying it.

“you’re not who they expect you to be.”

“w-what?” you give him a glance, he’s still looking ahead.

“to hell with expectations. just do your best.”

that day, you can’t take your eyes off of him. the awe-struck might have been evident on your face, he briefly blinks at you before his walking pace slows down to match yours.

you feel warm, inexplicably so.

you held back a tear, but it still drops for the seed of happiness to suddenly grow.

“hey.” you greet him, slightly jogging to catch up with him.

he slows down, like always. he acknowledges you through with it, feeling relaxed as you both amble throughout campus.

you smile, maybe you’re friends after all.

“i assume you’re not busy?”

“not really.”

rayne leaves it at that, or so you thought. it takes a minute to register what he said, your footsteps coming to a halt. “sorry…what did you say?”

“you can come with me, i need to buy something in the market.”

rayne ames doesn't bother you like the rest; he'll talk to you if the circumstances deem it necessary. things you can list off as 'school-related' situations-

“is this school-related?”

“no? just things i need to check on my list.”

“oh.” you stand there a little too dumbfounded.

a hint of hesitance fleetingly passes through rayne’s gaze. you don’t intend to make it awkward, but you are, and then you chuckle at yourself for doing so. “sorry, that startled me.”

“it’s not obligatory, so don’t worr-”

“i’ll come!” your lips tilt in an enthusiastic grin as you start walking again, “what’s on the list rayne?”

he faintly bumps your shoulder with such nonchalance you honestly find it unfair, your heart is beating unceremoniously against your chest, and your quivering smile gives away too much.

you’re starting to like the prospect of being bothered by rayne regardless if it’s necessary or not. to hell with expectations, you think, you’ll do your best being the happiest version of yourself.

you return the gesture much too late that it earns you a confused look. and then he bumps you again, and again when you follow another, and another. until you’re laughing at him for being silly and you swear you saw a smile ghost across his lips, as fast as a blink, it’s gone.

you would be happy to witness them everyday, if you can. (and that, you shall.)

notes. gonna start writing that drunk and jealous rayne fic i've put on hold last month :]]]]]

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[mountttmase]

The Mixup

Note - not a request this week, I spawned this from my own brain. It’s actually very old and I wrote it around the time of the World Cup so let’s think back to how pretty Mase looked back then 🫠 but I hope you enjoy and feed back is very much appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 7.4k

Warnings - fluff & angst

You knew the players were arriving downstairs but you thought it was best to keep yourself out of the way for now even though you were eager to see them. well most of them anyway.

You needed to work up the confidence as you hadn’t seen most of them in a while, so you kept to yourself for now until Violet flopped down on the sofa that was in your shared office.

‘That was a lot’ she sighed. ‘They’re all here now though so at least that parts over’ you smiled and nodded but it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘A couple of the boys were asking after you, they’re excited to have you back’ she said softly and you finally looked up to meet her eyes with a sigh.

‘I’ll go make the rounds soon’ you promised and she sent you a sympathetic smile. She knew why you were apprehensive but she was sworn to secrecy so with a final nod, she heaved herself up and made her way over to her desk.

It’s not like you didn’t want to see the boys, you’d been excited for weeks about meeting up with everyone again but memories from earlier on in the year kept you glued to your desk.

You had never imagined yourself in a job like this, but bored with your 9-5 you wanted to try something new and this seemed to tick all the boxes. Getting to do something new most days, meeting lots of interesting people kept you busy and you haven’t thought about doing anything else since.

You didn’t know much about football and no matter how much you tried to learn it never stuck too much. You tried to use this to your advantage when getting to know the players, trying to make them feel like you didn’t care about what they did, you were here for them as a person. You wanted to be someone they could come and share their troubles with and just feel normal around in a very different environment.

It seemed to work and you were very close with all the boys. They always seemed happy to see you and you loved coming to work. You tried not to have favourites but some of the boys you were closer with than others, Mason Mount being one of those. He never failed to brighten your day with his cheeky smile and silly jokes and you obviously found him attractive but you know you could never go there with him. Even if you knew he would always look at you for longer than was deemed appropriate sometimes, or when you spoke to him he’d stare at your lips and lick his own. You’d only spend a week or two together tops usually, but when the Euros came around and you’d all been forced together for over a month you couldn’t help falling for him even more.

He was so unlike anyone you’d ever met before, and nothing like you thought a typical footballer would be. He was so kind, always checking you were okay and bringing you drinks and snacks to your office. He made sure to bring Violet a little something too to try and make it seem normal but you knew it was for you.

It was you he always came to first after a win, throwing his arms around you and kissing your head. He was very touchy with you in general, his hands always touching some part of you when you were together It was so hard to not take things further but you were both aware of the consequences.

That was until the final was over and you spent the the hours after the final whistle trying to comfort him. It was like he no longer cared who was looking and just needed you to make him feel better. He was distraught and you felt so helpless so when the time came for everyone to go to bed and he told you he wasn’t ready to let go of you yet, you couldn’t deny him. Both spending the night in his room where he finally plucked up the courage to kiss you. One kiss turned into two which turned into the pair of you spending the night between the sheets.

You woke up before him that morning, and not wanting to cause a scene later on, you thought it would be best to make your way back to your room. You realised your phone was dead so with no other option you wrote him a quick note that you left by his phone and snuck back to your own room. You told him to text you when he woke up but the text never came. You tried not to let it effect you in anyway, knowing he had a lot on his mind but when you found out from Dec that he’d gone without saying goodbye, you tried not to let your heartbreak show on your face.

You didn’t hear from him again until you saw him at the next camp a few months later and after a slightly awkward hello, he kept out of your way. You were beyond confused by his actions but finally settled on the fact he only liked you cause you were there giving him attention and once he got what he wanted, things were now done in his eyes. You couldn’t deny you were hurt, spending the free time in your office trying to stop the tears so you could be somewhat normal in front of everyone but his coldness hurt you every time you saw him.

You never thought it would end up like this so when Mason had to miss the next camp due to him having some teeth out, you couldn’t say you weren’t relieved. Everything seemed easier and when you were sat talking with Ben one evening after dinner, you didn’t realise how much it had shown.

‘You seem a lot happier this camp, was everything alright last time?’

‘Was it that obvious’ you chuckled but he was looking back at you with sympathetic eyes.

‘Listen I know it’s none of my business’ he started and your blood ran cold. You knew he was close with mason but you didn’t know how much he knew about what went on between the both of you. You held your breath as he continued ‘but I know something happened after the Euros. Mason never told me what but I know he’s been down about it too’

You gave him a confused look, your heart beating frantically. What did he have to be down about? He was the one that ghosted you after everything that happened yet he was upset?

‘I’m sorry chilly, but I don’t know what he’s got to be sad about’ you weren’t going to continue but the look on his face made you want to keep talking. You knew it was stupid with him being one of masons best friends but you’d kept everything so close to your chest it was bound to spill out at some point. ‘Can you keep this between us?’ You said quietly and he gave you a small nod. ‘Mase and I slept with each other after the final’ you breathed, the weight on your shoulders finally releasing ‘I know we shouldn’t have done it but it happened. But it was the morning after he just completely blanked me and went home without saying bye or anything like just completely ghosted me. I left him a note to message me and just got nothing’. You finally met he eyes and a look of disappointment mixed with confusion flashed across his face.

‘I’m so sorry y/n, he shouldn’t of done that to you’

‘I’ve made peace with it, it’s just a bit awkward to be around him sometimes that’s all’

‘I get it’ he nodded, tapping your knee. ‘Don’t worry we don’t have to speak about it again. And I promise my lips are sealed.’

You nodded at him appreciatively and he moved on to talk about something else and as he promised, you both never spoke about it again.

Due to some luck on your part, you thankfully got to skip the next few camps, covering some maternity leave work at headquarters in London full time meaning you never had to travel up and see Mason. You managed to get to games when they were playing at Wembley but were able to sneak out without him noticing you.

It wasn’t until the World Cup when you had to go back to be with the team. You’d been specially selected to travel with everyone and even though you knew mason would be going you didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity because of him.

So here you were, filling out forms when you could have been saying hello to all the boys, but your nerves got the better of you. You knew there was a team meeting in an hour and a half and you told yourself you’d be ready for then, hopefully all the boys being together meant you could blend in and not have to speak to him directly but you also knew you had to get on with him for the sake of the group.

‘Come on then you’ violet suddenly piped up, ‘let’s get this show on the road’ she laughed and as you checked the time you saw it was close to the meeting and after putting all you stuff away, you followed her out the room and to the main meeting area.

Your eyes found him immediately, stood on the other side of the room in deep conversation with Declan, but you couldn’t look for too long as all the other boys started to recognise you. You said your hellos, slowly making your way around to everyone and it was only him and Dec left to talk to when the meeting began. You took your seat towards the back with the other staff and watched as he sat a few rows in front of you. you had no idea if he’d seen you yet and as hard as you tried to keep your eyes off him you couldn’t. You were only broken out of your trance when Gareth started speaking about you, letting everyone know you had returned and only then did you feel his eyes on you. You didn’t look back at him, just kept facing forwards and hoping he would look away soon to which he did but you always felt his eyes wandering back to you.

You were thankful when the meeting had finished so you could escape back to your room, but when you heard dec call your name, you turned to face him.

‘There you are, it’s so good to see you’ he told you, pulling you into a hug. You could see from over his shoulder that Mason was leaving the room and you breathed a sigh of relief that you wouldn’t have to talk to him now. ‘How have you been?’

‘Yeah I’ve been good thanks’ you smiled back as you pulled away from each other ‘it’s really good to be back. How are you?’

‘Yeah really good thanks, just excited to get going now’ he beamed at you, walking slowly with you over to the door that everyone else had left from. His phone started to ring and when he saw who it was he nodded to the door ‘sorry y/n I need to take this. I’ll see you at dinner though yeah?’

You nodded as he ran out and you were just about to follow him when you realised you’d left you phone on your seat. You quickly retrieved it and made your way out the door but the sound of someone’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

‘Y/n?’

You turned slowly and we’re met with Mason. He’d stood behind the door to catch you on your way out, hoping he could get you alone. Now you were face to face with him after all this time you could feel heat run to your face and your eyes could no longer look into his so you looked at your hands.

‘Hi Mason’ you said weakly, wrapping your arms around yourself as if they would protect you. You felt exposed being in front of him now.

‘Hey’ he breathed, taking a cautious step towards you. ‘Its so good to see you’

Was it?

You didn’t know what to say back so you just nodded your head once, hoping he was done and you could walk away, however it wasn’t your lucky day and he took another step towards you ‘I was hoping maybe we could talk?’ He questioned and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows.

Talk? He really wanted to talk now? He was months too late for that and you stepped back as he moved towards you. You didn’t have to look at him to see the hurt that flashed across his face.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’

‘Please y/n I need to explain-’

‘No Mason it’s fine, you’ve got nothing to explain really’ you gave him a weak smile, finally looking at him again and his eyebrows were drawn together in frustration. ‘I want this trip to be normal for everyone, I think we owe it to the team and everyone else to get along so if we do need to speak to each other then I’ll be civil but I think it’s best we keep out of each others way’

‘No you’ve got to let me-‘

‘I’m sorry Mason’ you cut him off and you heard him let out a deep sigh ‘I can’t have it any other way right now’ you explained and to this he just nodded, biting the inside of his cheek out of frustration before walking past you and joining the others. You felt awful for not letting him speak but you weren’t sure you could handle what he had to say.

You followed into the room just after him, looking around for a free seat but as you were the last one in there wasn’t much to choose from. You saw a hand raise in the air and when you looked, Dec was waving you over.

‘I saved you a seat’ he smiled as you approached him and you thanked him as you sat down on his left. You were at the end of the table so you had no one next to you the other side, but opposite you sat Mason who gave you a barely there smile before turning to Luke who was sat beside him.

You and dec spoke throughout most of dinner, before getting Mason and Luke to join in on your conversation. You tried to act normal and you could tell mason was trying too but he never tried to talk to just you and you were thankful for it. It wasn’t hard to pretend you liked Mason because deep down you knew that you did but you were conscious of not wanting him to think the two of you were suddenly friends again.

You knew him well enough to see the disappointment behind his eyes but you tried not to let it sway you in anyway. Being around him was difficult though and you’d forgotten how good it felt to be in his company but you weren’t in a position to fall back under his spell so quickly. So in a bid to shut down what was currently going on in your head, you let the boys know you were off to your room for the night so you could get ready for the flight tomorrow. They all wished you good night and the doors were just about to close on the lift when you heard footsteps running towards you and a hand on the door stopping it from closing fully. The doors opened to reveal Mason who jumped in the lift with you, pressing the button to shut the door a few times and it closed as quickly as it opened.

‘I’m sorry y/n but I need to talk to you. If you wanna tell me to piss off after I’ve explained then fine but I need you to hear me out’ he said in a panic, looking at you with wild eyes, begging you to accept his plea.

You thought it over for a few seconds, finally thinking it might be nice to get a bit of closure on the whole situation so you reluctantly agreed. He let out a sigh of relief and mumbled a quiet thank you before the lift stopped on your floor and the doors opened with a ping.

‘I guess we can talk in my room’ you murmured before leading him down to the end of the hall where you room was. You opened the door and let him pass through before shutting the door behind you, silently thanking yourself for keeping the room tidy and when you turned to face him he was sitting down on the chair near your bedside table. You followed him over and took a seat on the end of your bed, keeping your hands in your lap and looking down at your fingers.

You heard him let out a little sigh and when you looked up he was looking down at his fingers too, clearly just as nervous as you were.

‘Ive had so much time to think about what to say to you but now I’m here my minds blank’ he laughed quietly, his big brown eyes now coming up to meet yours. He let out a breath before continuing ‘I think there’s been a bit of a mix up’ he said with a slight smile.

‘Yeah, you can say that again’ you mumbled under your breath but he heard you, looking at you with a confused expression. The little smirk on his face had infuriated you and you no longer wanted be polite.

‘What?’

‘The fact that you’re smiling tells me everything I need to know’ you said and his face dropped, turning his head to the side in confusion. You’d finally had enough of him acting dumb, months of pent up hurt and anger now coming to the surface as you were looking at him. You had always wanted to be civil with him but the uncontrollable desire to tell him exactly what you thought of him was bubbling up and you had to get it all out at him. Make him hurt like you had and made him understand since he seemed to be fine. ‘I get it okay? We were on two different pages with our feelings and got mixed up. Why are you here, just to rub it in my face? I mean what is this Mason? Just trying to stick a few more knives in? It’s not funny at all so don’t insult me by laughing at me’

‘What? no what are you say-‘

‘No Mason’ you exploded, standing to you feet and he was looking at you in shock. You’ve always been so placid around him so he wasn’t used to you like this. ‘You really fucking hurt me, completely embarrassed me and now you’re here trying to taunt me saying there was a mix up when really you just weren’t honest with me. You made me think you actually liked me as much as I like you when you were after one thing. Well congratulations Mason you got it. Well done’

You felt your eyes sting and the first few tears of frustration fall. You turned away from him standing in the other side of the room so you could wipe your eyes and try and calm down. You heard him sigh quietly before getting up and slowly making his way over to you, stopping just short of you as to not invade your space.

‘That’s not what happed’ he told you quietly. You could hear the hurt in his voice but you tired not to let it affect you since you’d been hurting for months. ‘If you’d just let me explain, you’ve got it all wrong’.

You slowly turned to face him, your now bloodshot eyes meeting his glazed ones. He looked heartbroken and frustrated which surprised you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and sat on the end of the bed. You heard him take a big deep breath before sitting down next to you, his thigh almost touching yours.

‘That camp last year when I wasn’t here? When chilly came back to chels he was absolutely furious with me for weeks and wouldn’t tell me why’ he said and you thought back to the conversation all those months ago where you finally got your feelings off your chest. ‘I tried to talk to him but he told me he couldn’t say but I figured it was about you. Had to do a bit of reverse psychology in the end and pretend I didn’t care so he’d tell me’

Deep down you always figured chilly would tell mason at some point. You were actually surprised he kept it in for as long as he had.

‘He promised he wouldn’t tell’ you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap, trying desperately to hold your tears in.

‘I’m glad he did, but before I get into that I just wanted to say I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like shit it or upset you in any way. I really liked you, still do’ he admitted and your eyes flew up to look at him.

‘Don’t Mason’ you breathed, looking away again, thinking you weren’t sure if you were strong enough for him to keep playing you like this.

‘What?’

‘Please just get to the point, I don’t want to keep going round in circles. You said you wanted to explain so what happened?’

‘That morning after…. Well… you know’ he mumbled with a blush on his cheeks and you just nodded, feeling your own face heat up at the memory. ‘Well I woke up and you were gone. I checked my phone and there was no text and nothing in my room left of you, almost like it didn’t happen. I thought you’d regretted what happened between us and ran away. After the heartbreak of the day before and then waking up to that, I just wanted to go home like it was all too much’

You looked up to him, ready to tell him he was wrong and you hadn’t just left but he was looking at you with a knowing smile, making you fall silent again.

‘Ben told me you left a note?’ He questioned and all you could do was nod. He let out a humourless chuckle and rubbed his forehead. ‘I didn’t see it. I thought you’d had second thoughts’

‘No’ you whispered, your head falling into your hands. ‘I didn’t want people asking unnecessary questions so I thought it would be better to head back to my room but my phone had died so I wrote you a note and left it next to your phone so you’d see it. Then when I never heard from you and Dec told me you’d gone I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me’

You tried not to get upset again but you knew your voice broke at the end. Mason wanted to comfort you in some way but wasn’t sure what you were ready for yet so he carefully placed his hand on your knee, slowly stroking this thumb over you and when you didn’t flinch or push him off, he took it as a sign to keep talking.

‘I’m so sorry you thought that. I’ve never thought that about you I promise’ he told you with a soft smile. ‘I can’t believe I let a little bit of paper cause all this’. You gave him a small smile back, understanding now his point of view.

‘I should of left it somewhere else where you could of seen it better, sorry’

‘No no, don’t apologise please it’s me’ he said with a squeeze of your knee, his heart nearly bursting from his chest when you placed your hand on top of his and locked your fingers together. ‘Thinking back I’m pretty sure I woke up in a bit of a panic when you weren’t there and dropped my phone when I grabbed it half asleep. I probably dropped the note with it and left it on the floor’ he said, shaking his head slightly ‘I should of just come and spoken to you though, not ran off like a big baby’

You let out a little giggle and it warmed his heart that he’d managed to make you smile.

‘I get it now, it was an emotional few days. I don’t think any of us were acting rationally’ you said and you saw his face drop from the corner of your eye, thinking you were referring to what happened between you both. You quickly carried on so you could put his mind at ease. ‘I don’t mean that about what we did by the way’ you whispered and his face eased slightly, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

‘So you don’t regret what happened?’

‘Of course not’ you breathed ‘well not now I know what happened I guess’ you laughed and he sighed dramatically.

‘I don’t regret what happened either. But I regret the way things went down after’

‘It was just a bit of mixed up communication Mase, it’s okay’

‘I hope so’ he smiled, and you rested your head on his shoulder, him resting his head on top of yours. A sense of relief flooded through you now you had the full story, you mind feeling more settled that it had in months but the relief was outweighed by an overwhelming urge to cry. Mason felt you turn a little ridged and the slight shake of your shoulders as you began to let it all go. ‘Hey come on, it’s okay’ he said quietly, removing his hand from your knee and placing his arm around you. He pulled you into his chest, both arms around you and you clung onto him for dear life. ‘Please don’t cry baby’ He whispered as he gently rocked you but the feeling of him and the sound of him and the pet name only made you cry harder. You cried into his shoulder and as he felt you calm down a little after a few minutes, he shifted and laid down, pulling you with him.

You lay in silence, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back, the other hand lost in your hair as he scratched your scalp gently. You were curled into him, your face in his neck as you breathed in his scent and tried to stop crying. Your hand was draped over his chest and you could feel his heartbeat steady under your fingers, grounding you slightly. He smelt the same as you remembered and you felt yourself melting into him, your eyes growing heavy and your breathing deepened and you felt yourself slowly drifting off but you shook yourself awake, looking up at him with blurry eyes.

He looked down at you and you could see the tear marks down his cheeks so you instinctively reached up and stroked his face. He smiled and quickly turned his head, kissing your palm and you let out a small giggle which in turn made him smile.

‘You alright?’ He whispered and you nodded gently before he kissed your forehead. ‘Good, I hate seeing you cry’ he breathed as he gave you a sympathetic smile. ‘Come up here’ he motioned with his head before shuffling up the bed and laying his head on the pillow. You crawled up to meet him and settled yourself back in his open arms. After a few moments you moved so you could put your head on the pillow next to him, both turning to face each other.

He gave you a gentle smile and it made your whole body feel warm. He looked so good, his hair now pretty much back to what it was the last time you saw him after a run of styles he kept changing. He had more facial hair now though and looked more mature but he was still as handsome as ever.

You had so many thoughts rushing around your head but the only one you were focusing on at the moment was the thought of his lips on yours again, so you reached over and kissed him. You could sense his shock at first, but he quickly reciprocated, kissing you back softly, his arms pulling you even closer to him.

It felt so good to be back close to him like this and you couldn’t help but smile as he kissed you which in turn made him smile. You both pulled back and when you looked at him again he had that cheeky glint in his eye you loved so much and you couldn’t help but kiss him again. He kept things soft, not wanting to over step the mark with you as he was just happy to be back in your arms again. Although he knew it would have to be short lived. He sighed, pressing a kiss to your nose before speaking.

‘I’ll probably have to head back to my room soon’ he said lowly, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. ‘I guess we have a long flight tomorrow though. Maybe you can come sit with me for a bit? So we can have a proper talk and catch up?’

‘Yeah, I’d really like that’ you smiled and he squeezed you a little tighter.

You eventually walked him to the door, but stopped just before it. You turned you slid your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into you. He held you against him as tight as he could, nestling into your neck and pressing little kisses against you. You pulled away and he dipped his head to kiss you immediately. You both kept it light as the previous kisses you’d shared and he broke away before it got any heavier.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?’ He winked at you and smiled up at him, nodding your head. With one final kiss to your cheek he was gone.

The next morning you woke up feeling refreshed after having one of the better nights sleep you’d had it a while. The weight of having to be around mason now lifted and you were feeling more optimistic about the whole trip.

You grabbed an early breakfast with Violet who commented on how happier you seemed than yesterday but you put it down to getting over the nerves of seeing everyone again and after you made you way to the airport so you could get there before the boys. It was both your jobs to make sure they were in the correct seats and when Violet noticed Mason was missing from her list she offered to swap sides with you.

‘Oh no it’s fine, I can handle him’ you said with a slight smile and she gave you a knowing look.

‘Oh yeah?’ She laughed. ‘I saw the two of you at dinner yesterday come to think of it. Something you need to tell me?’ Your laugh told her everything she needed to know but she had no time to question you further and the boys started filing in. ‘You wait till this plane takes off, you have a lot of explaining to do’ she winked before directing some of the medical staff towards the back of the plane.

You’d just pointed Dec to his seat when you turned and were met with the smiling face of Mason.

‘Fancy seeing you here’ he winked and you couldn’t help but laugh. ‘So where am I sat?’

‘Just here’ you pointed to his right. He was in a window seat like most of the boys that could be closed off should they want a nap or some privacy. He nodded and chucked his bag on the seat before turning back to you.

‘And where are you sitting?’ He questioned with a raised brow and you pointed to a seat in the middle aisle a few rows up from him. He dropped his lip when you looked back at him, clearly upset you were sat so far away ‘make sure you come see me like we said yeah?’

‘I will’

‘Promise?’ He questioned, raising his pinkie finger to which you wrapped yours around.

‘I promise. Now go sit down you’re holding up the line’ you laughed and he smiled back before walking over to his seat, only letting go of your finger at the very last second.

You carried on sorting everyone else out, but you kept your eye on him, watching as he got himself comfortable, unpacking his pillow all his things to keep him entertained. It made you smile and you were smiling when you eventually took your seat next to Violet. She immediately wanted details and the both of you giggled as you explained what happened.

‘So it was just a big misunderstanding?’ She whispered and you nodded with a sad smile. ‘I feel bad for being a bit of a dick to him now’ she laughed and you shook your head at her admission. ‘We best go make the rounds’ she huffed and the both of you stood up, taking one half of the place each to check everyone was okay and didn��t need anything. You left a mason till last, noticing he was reading so he didn’t see you come past but when you popped your head into his little cubicle his face face lit up at the sight of you.

‘Hey’ I was beginning to wonder where you were’ he smiled, closing his book and popping it on the table. He made grabby hands towards you but you didn’t know where he was expecting you to go as the only seat available appeared to be his lap. You saw him pout when you didn’t move so he reached over and pulled you in between his legs . ‘You said you’d come speak to me, why aren’t you sitting down?’

‘There’s nowhere for me to go Mase’

‘Sure there is, close that bloody door for a start’ he told you. Gesturing to the sliding door that closed his little pod meaning the two of you would be trapped inside. You raised a brow at him and he gave you a cheeky smile before closing it for you.

‘I swear to god Mount, if you get me in trouble’

‘Oh shush, come here’ he told you moving around on his chair a bit so you could sit on his lap. ‘Is this alright? Shall I lay the chair back so it comfier?’

‘I’m good like this’ you told him quietly as you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, aware that others might be able to hear you.

‘Missed you’ he whispered, pressing his lips to your cheek while holding you a little tighter as you giggled at him.

‘I saw you last night’

‘Doesn’t mean I can’t miss you’ he told you before turning your face towards his and kissing you softly. ‘I’ve gone months without you, let me make up for lost time’

‘Mason’ you warned as he kissed your neck and let his hands wander over your legs and waist. ‘Mason, we’ll get caught’

‘Be quiet then’ he whispered, attaching his lips back to yours. You tried not to melt under his touch but it felt so good to have his lips back on yours so you let him have his way for a bit, threading your fingers through his hair so he couldn’t pull away, before you both started to smile and you had to lean back.

‘I’m supposed to be here so we can talk properly, not suck face’ you teased and he laughed before settling back in his chair. ‘Why don’t we go sit by the bar? No one’s there and it’ll be a bit more comfortable.

‘But I won’t be able to kiss you there’ he pouted so you gave him a final peck before leaving his pod and making your way to the sofas. No one was around thankfully and once you’d settled down with two bottles of water, Mason followed in behind and took a seat next to you.

You sat and talked for what felt like 20 minutes, when in reality it had been hours. You only knew this because Dec wanted a game of Mario Cart with Mason but he told him he was busy. To anyone else it just looked like two friends catching up but he was holding your hand under the table and slowly rubbing circles onto the back of it.

‘You mean to tell me you’ve been to all the Wembley games this past year?’ He asked you, looking at you with a shocked face. You nodded shyly and he laughed whilst squeezing your hand.

‘Saw you score against Germany’ you told him and his face softened a little. ‘I was so close to coming to find you but I couldn’t work up the courage’

‘It’s fine’ he nodded. ‘You’re here now. I’ve been wanting to message you for ages but I didn’t wanna get shot down’ he laughed but you could tell there was a bit of hurt behind his eyes. You had an quick look around and once you noticed no one was about, you cupped his jaw and gave him a gentle kiss which he smiled into.

‘I’m here now’ you winked as you pulled away just in time for Dec and Luke to wonder into the back where you were.

‘You two have been sat here for ages, something you’re not telling me?’ Dec teased as he ruffled mason hair and you both laughed nervously. In the end they came to join you for a while before you told them you were going for a nap, knowing you needed to be fresh for when you landed.

Once at the hotel you assigned the boys their rooms and made sure to stay somewhere where they boys could find you if they needed to. It wasn’t long before Mason came wondering in with a small pout but his eyes brightened at the sight of you.

‘Can you help me? I can’t get phone to connect to that weird docking station thing in my room’ he asked and Violet just winked as you started to stand up.

‘I won’t be long’ you told her but she just laughed at you quietly.

‘Take all the time you need’ she teased and you rolled your eyes before following him. He motioned for you to go in first and once you had he shut the door behind you both. His phone was sat in the docking station and it was working perfectly as you looked at it, but when you felt his hands settle on you hips behind you, you realised he’d lured you here under false pretences.

‘I swear to god, Mase’ you huffed, but you relaxed into his touch knowing that you were completely alone. His hands had traveled up to your waist and he pulled you against him whilst kissing you neck which made you let out a deep breath.

‘Just relax, baby’ he whispered against your neck ‘I just needed some alone time with you. Not sure how much I’ll get over the next few weeks’

You nodded as your whole body erupted in goosebumps at his touches. He was being so soft and gentle with you like he was savouring every touch but you turned in his arms, wanting his lips on yours as soon as possible.

He smiled as soon as you kissed him, pulling you impossibly closer as he gently rubbed his hands up and down your back. You couldn’t get over how good it felt being back in his arms and he hummed into your mouth as you gently stroked up and down his neck with your thumbs as your hands settled on his shoulders. He pulled back slightly, bumping his nose against yours before kissing you again. It was slow and lazy and you could of quite happily stayed in this moment with him forever, showering each other with affection.

‘How long is an acceptable time for me to keep you here?’ He laughed quietly, resting his forehead on yours as you both shut your eyes to fully enjoy the moment.

‘I think I can stay a little longer’ you murmured back and you opened your eyes to find him smiling at you, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as you smiled back.

‘You wait till we’re back home, and we’ve got all the time in the world. You’re gonna get sick of me’ he laughed before kissing your cheek at looking at you adoringly. ‘If that’s what you want of course’

‘Is that what you want?’ You questioned and he nodded at you with a serious look on his face.

‘Definitely. I know it might be a bit complicated but we can work it out’ he told you, his fingers stroking over your back soothingly. ‘I don’t want to let you slip through my fingers again’

‘I don’t either’ you whispered with a smile, letting him kiss you again before you pulled back with a serious look on your face. ‘But whilst we’re here, I think we should set some ground rules’

‘Booooo’ he moaned and you slapped his chest lightly before sitting down on the end of his bed and pulling him down next to you.

‘I’m serious Mase’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m just being a prat. Whatever makes you comfortable I’m willing to do’

‘Well first of all, no more faking technical difficulties to get me alone. No one’s gonna believe I helped you fix anything when I can barely use my phone as it is’

‘Yeah I didn’t really think that one through’ he laughed, playing with your fingers as he looked at you adoringly.

‘I know we’re both excited that things are working themselves out but you’re here to do a job and I don’t want to be a distraction’

‘You’re the most beautiful distraction I’ve ever seen’ he whispered, kissing you again a bit deeper this time and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

‘You’re a menace, I swear. I’m trying to be serious with you’ you laughed against his lips but he just winked at you before holding your face gently.

‘Look don’t worry about me. I can be professional, yeah? I’ve had a crush on you since we first met and I’ve always behaved myself around everyone else. No one suspects a thing, not even Dec’

‘Yeah but we hadn’t slept with each other then’ you told him, your cheeks feeling as though they were on fire. ‘It was easier back then as we were both in denial ourselves’

‘I know, but I can still pretend. This trip you’re just like any other member of staff and I’ll treat you the same as i do the others in front of everyone else’ he told you but you raised your brow as his use of phrase in front of everyone else. ‘But if there’s a chance for us to be alone you best believe I’m taking it. And then when we go home you’re coming to stay with me for a few days so we can make up for lost time and figure everything out. Deal?’

‘Deal’ you breathed, your heart hammering at the thought of getting to be with him after this was all over and by the cheeky smirk of his face he was clearly thinking the same.

‘Perfect. Now I think it’s fine for me to keep you for another ten minutes or so, yeah? So if you can keep quiet for me I’ll make it worth your while’ he laughed before laying you down and slipping himself off the end of the bed so he could place himself in between your legs. You didn’t have it in you to argue about it anymore so you did as he told you and kept quiet as he started to make up for lost time earlier than he’d promised.

[heliads]

like a heartbeat, drives you mad

From the moment you first dream of Neverland, you know that it's a home unlike any other. Waking up is terrible every time, but what if you were able to find a way to stay there forever?

masterlist

You are always alone when the thoughts catch up to you. When you’re with other people, it’s different, easier to convince your mind to race to better, safer topics. You don’t have to think about the fears or the worries, you just have to keep up with the conversation or do your best to not seem like the person you’re terrified you truly are. Everything hinges on the one other person there, distracting you from the relentless parade of thoughts, keeping you firmly in reality.

When you’re alone, though, you can’t hide anymore. You wave goodbye to your friends to head inside, and with your hand on the knob, you think, did they really want to see me? And, was that laughter genuine, or were they faking it the whole time? Worse, was it at me?

Things get worse once it gets dark. You lie awake at night thinking that you’ll fail at everything, that no one will want to associate with you after that, that everyone on this earth is going to live and die and no one will ever remember you again. You don’t like thinking along such dark lines, but the self-hatred is strong and won’t let you go. You’ve tried before, shaking it off, but it always comes creeping back when you want it the least.

Life is not the best, but at least the fall of dusk upon the streets and surroundings of your hometown brings you the blessing of finally being able to go to bed. You can push off schoolwork until the next day, chores until forever, just so long as you can shut off your mind and crawl under your covers and everything will go away.

Tonight is one of those nights when you want it most of all. It’s been a long day, followed by a long week, chased by an even longer month. You can only tell yourself that it’ll get better soon for so long before even that familiar lie loses its charm. It’ll be good to rest tonight, though. Maybe tomorrow will make you happier. You close your eyes and try to sleep, all but begging unconsciousness to fall over you and carry you away. Your waking life is horrid enough. In sleep, at least, you will be alone, but–

In your dream, there is a boy. He was not there before. He is, in fact, nobody you have ever seen before. This should not be a problem. Dreams are rarely perfectly photographic, but this boy is, indeed, perfect. He’s absolutely in focus, blurred by none of that dreamlike haze that most figures cling to in your subconscious. It’s like a memory, but it’s never happened. It’s like reality, but you are still definitely asleep.

You stare at him for longer than is perhaps polite, but he does not go away. You can feel this dream in a way that should not be possible– the carpet under your feet, the cool of the air conditioning. You’re in your room, standing by the door. He’s perched on a chair, eyeing you with interest, and as bizarre as this dream is, you cannot shake the absolute certainty that this is his fault.

The only thing to be left, then, is to get some answers. You work up the confidence to speak, and your voice sounds exactly as it should, not distorted by dreams or anything. “Who are you?”

The boy chuckles. “A friend of yours. Hopefully, that is. I’d like to get to know you.”

Having gone a record number of years of your life without any hyperrealistic boys disrupting your dreaming schedule, especially ones who specifically wanted to meet you of all people, this only adds to your confusion. “Why?”

The boy shrugs liberally. “I’ve been encountering fewer and fewer dreamers around. Yours are the most vibrant. I was curious.”

You fight the odd urge to laugh. “A lot of people dream. Maybe you’re just bad at looking.”

This is, of course, the most rational thing you can do, immediately pick a fight with some guy currently terrorizing your brainwaves. Luckily, he doesn’t seem offended by your need to argue, and he just grins. “See, you’re right, but most dreams are nothing more than surface level. Yours are deeper, richer, stronger. In all honesty, that’s the sort of thing that makes me more powerful, so I wanted to see what it was about.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, magic boy, you, like, eat dreams or something. Weird of you, but okay.”

He smiles again. He shouldn’t, but he does. “You don’t believe me? I can show you.”

He stands, holds out a hand to you. You’re certain this guy’s nothing more than a figment of your imagination, but still. You hesitate. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Peter,” he says, “but magic boy works too.”

It makes you laugh. Shouldn’t, but it does. Just enough to shake loose your hesitations– what could happen here, after all, in the confines of your own dreams? You take his hand and something sparks behind his eyes. Pride, maybe. Or justification of some sort. Either way, you get the feeling that he’s just proven himself right.

Peter walks over to your window, throwing it open abruptly and climbing out onto the ledge. “You have to trust me,” he tells you, “or this isn’t going to work very well.”

You want to argue with him that you have absolutely no reason to trust him at all, but for some reason you’re already crawling out the window before you can get the words out. Your body trusts him, even as your mind doubts it. Strange, but nothing about this makes sense, anyway.

Peter straightens up slowly, bringing you with him. “Are you ready?”

“For what?” You ask, concerned.

His eyes dance with mischief. “For this,” he calls out, and he pulls you from the ledge.

There is a terrible moment of falling, when the only sure thing is his hand still wrapped around yours. You are plummeting towards the ground with dreadful speed, but then you’re not, and you’re leveling out again, the two of you pulled through the air as if by some invisible string.

The wind whips through Peter’s hair as the two of you soar through the air. “How is it?” He shouts over to you.

You laugh delightedly. “Fantastic.” It’s almost a pity it isn’t real. The fact that it feels so true but isn’t is almost more heartbreaking as if nothing had felt like reality in the slightest.

Before you know it, you and Peter are well beyond the reaches of your town, or even your country. Dark waters skim by underneath you, the waves of some foreign sea. Thousands of stars twinkle above you, Peter points out a few, shouts, second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning, that’ll get us there. You frown at him, call back, where? And he laughs, delighted in the thought of all that you have soon to experience, and screams, Neverland! at the top of his lungs.

It sounds like a joyous place. It is, from the moment you step foot on its pearlescent beaches, and later still, when you’re striding through the lush forests towards a campsite. It’s all a blur from that moment onwards, a swirl of new faces running towards you and laughing at your jokes, the clash of swords without a trace of fear, promises that you’ll love this even better, or that, or everything.

It is paradise. You do a hundred things and never tire. The Lost Boys who meet you, take you by storm, and obviously enjoy the company of a newcomer. Throughout all of it, Peter watches, tucked into the shadow of a tree trunk, arms folded across his chest with that satisfied smile on his face again. He does not approach until earlier into the morning, once dawn starts bleeding out beneath the blushing fingers of the rising sun.

“We have to go back,” he tells you at last, slipping out from his hideaway to step carefully to your side, “Or, you do, at least.”

The memory that none of this is real comes crashing down upon you, and you can feel the ecstasy of this whole night leaving you in a flash. “Right,” you say, “This is just a dream. Forgot about that.”

The thought that you’ll have to wake up and go to school and exist again as a normal person without any of this wonder that you’d just experienced makes you feel sick and saddened. Peter shakes his head, eyes soft. “You don’t necessarily have to wake up, but you should. You can come back soon, though.”

You laugh bitterly. “Of course I can, dream boy. I’m going to forget all of this by morning.”

He frowns. “Do you want to?”

“No,” you insist, “but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“You do,” Peter tells you, “You always have a choice. Always.”

With that, he takes your hand, and pulls just so. You stumble forward, caught off balance, and when you look up again, you’re in your room. Same four walls, same ceiling, same everything. You know somehow that this is the dream no longer, even without mysterious boys or wonderful islands in front of you.

A dreadful sigh leaves your lungs, carrying only heartbreak and misery. What a pity, to have such a magnificent dream and then have to leave it. Knowing that none of it was real is perhaps one of the worst agonies you have ever encountered in your life.

Or– was it not real after all? There’s something clenched in your hand, and you raise it slowly, uncurling the fingers one by one. What falls neatly onto your lap is a stone, polished to perfection by centuries of tides. It’s like no stone you’ve ever seen around here, shiny in a way that nothing natural is. It’s dark and lovely and– and it’s exactly like the ones on the shores of Neverland when you first touched down. There was no way you could have gotten it anywhere but there. That means that you were there after all, and that it’s real, it’s all real.

You go throughout the day in a haze, barely able to focus long enough to remember where you’re supposed to be going. None of it matters, though, not even the snide comments of your teachers or the questioning looks from your peers. Nothing matters, because the second the day ends and night creeps back around you, you know it’s time.

You have a brief moment of terror just before you fall asleep when you wonder if you can get back after all, that perhaps that was just a one time thing. No, you decide firmly, I want it. I’m going.

And, when you open your eyes to that same slightly uncanny feeling of the dream before, you know it, you can get back. Peter isn’t here this time, but that doesn’t stop you from racing to your window and throwing open the sash. You leap out into the air again blindly, reaching for the stars even before your feet leave the threshold. You won’t get hurt, none of this is real. All of this is real, that’s why you can fly into the air again, caught by an unseen hand. Second star to the right. Straight on until morning. You know the way. You couldn’t forget it if you tried.

The beaches of Neverland are empty, but you charge forward anyway, nearly tripping over tree roots and loose plants as you hurry through the forest. You can just see the lights of the camp, and then, yes, you’re into the clearing, and you’re greeted by shouts of glee and joy. Peter’s waiting for you at last, slowly clapping with the rest of the boys.

“You made it,” he says, evidently proud, “We wanted to see if you could.”

“Of course I can,” you tell him, laughing, “I made that choice.”

“That you did,” Peter says, and the celebrations begin.

It is quite possibly the best time of your entire life. You repeat this process day after day, slogging through your daylight hours with the end goal of being able to fall asleep and go back to Neverland, back to your Lost Boys, back to Peter. Nothing matters but the island. They all get along with you better than any friend you’ve ever made on the mainland.

The journey takes a shorter and shorter time, gone in the blink of an eye, and half the time you just wake up on the shores anyway, so familiar is the destination to you. You learn archery, throw knives, spar with the boys, shriek and shout and spin around the campfire. It’s fantastic, all of it, but that only makes the morning even worse in your opinion.

For, no matter how excellent of a night you had on Neverland, you always have to go back. Always. Peter takes your hand and he gives you that same look, that expression of regret and acceptance, and promises to see you later, to see you soon. Then you’re back in your house, and every time, the storm of homesickness and grief at no longer being on your island pulls you under.

It makes you think, though. On your first night on Neverland, Peter had said something strange about how you didn’t necessarily have to wake up. Perhaps it fits in with what he’s been telling you about how everything is just a choice. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to want that choice, the one to live here forever. It’s one you’d make in a heartbeat if you could only do it.

Curious, though, you start looking around at the other Lost Boys. They had to have gotten here somehow, right? One night you see one of them arrive, ferried over by a strange shadowy thing that looks far more terrifying than the whirlwind flight you’d had with Peter.

You ask one of the Lost Boys about it that night, interested to know why you were brought by Peter and this newcomer wasn’t. Apparently, though, you were the anomaly, not this boy.

“Usually Pan makes his shadow bring newcomers over,” the boy tells you matter-of-factly, “but I guess he wanted to impress you or something.”

You frown. “Why?”

The boy lifts a shoulder, evidently unbothered by the whole affair. “You’re the last of the dreamers, I guess he wants to keep you around or something.”

It’s an unhelpful answer, all things considered, and basically just what Peter had told you in your dream bedroom that first night. Still, the story is consistent, at least, and it makes you even more certain that Peter wants you to stay. You’re one of the dreamers, right? Why wouldn’t he want you to stay here forever, at least to keep his magic strong if not for the obvious friendship the two of you have had since the very first time you met?

You resolve to bring it up to Peter the next night. You’ve barely been on Neverland for an hour or two before you pull Peter aside and tell him what’s been on your mind for the longest time.

The breath out of your lungs is shaky, but you’re determined to get this right. “I want to stay in Neverland,” you tell him. “Forever, I mean. Not waking up. I want you to bring me here in real life. You always say that we have to make choices, and this is mine. I choose Neverland.”

Peter nods slowly, and you’re almost getting up your hopes that he’ll be accepting when he starts to speak. “That certainly would be an important choice. I would have to choose to bring you, though.”

You incline your head once. “Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you now. I mean, we’re friends, right? You and me, and the rest of the Lost Boys get along with me, too. I belong here, you know that. You brought me here in the first place, at least let me stay.”

He’s not saying anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? After too many minutes, Peter sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “Dreaming is one thing. Actually living here is something else entirely.”

“I know,” you say, starting to get impatient, “I’ve thought about this a lot, trust me, but I feel more alive on your island than I have in the real world. This is my home, Peter. You made it my home.”

Peter stares at you, the ground, his hands, and back to you. “No,” he says at last.

It feels as if you have fallen off of a tall cliff, condemned to tumble down forever in endless emptiness. “What? Why wouldn’t you– you’ve let me come here every night for months, but actually being on this island for good is too much for you? Peter, was any of this actually real to you? Was I just here as a temporary thing while you tried to harness the power of a dreamer or something?”

Peter shakes his head quickly. “No, no. It wasn’t about that. You’re as good as one of my Lost Boys–”

You cut him off, feeling the horror build in your chest with every passing second. “But never actually one of them, right? I can hang around during my nights but I will never be one of them, because you don’t really want me here. If you did, you would have brought me like all the others.”

You want to scream and cry, perhaps both. You’ve trusted him and, hell, even loved him, more than anyone else. Peter was the one thing in between you and complete melancholy. He’s turned your whole life around, given you reason after reason to keep going, but he does not want you around for good. Maybe he doesn’t even want you around at all.

He’s trying to say something, come up with some excuse that’ll somehow exempt him from your heartbreak, but anger is quickly outweighing sadness in your mind and you won’t let him. “No,” you say shakily, “If you never intended to keep me, I won’t waste our time. Why have me here at all?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait, please–”

You never hear the end of his sentence. You’ve woken yourself up from this glorious dream enough to be able to do it all by yourself, and you do it now. When you open your eyes, it’s still dark outside, several hours from morning, but it’s over now, it’s all over.

You know that with certainty. You’ll never be going back. If Peter does not want you, and it is suddenly crystal clear that he does not, or he would have already taken you to Neverland and never fought it, then you will not trouble him with your presence any longer. This is what he wants, even if it destroys you. 

It’s funny, realizing how much being on Neverland transformed your life. Your waking hours suddenly seem longer, the days filled with more dread and dullness than they ever had before. You had been miserable before you dreamed of Peter and the Lost Boys, and now that misery is back in full force. You compel yourself to forget him, to forget everything that had happened on that island, but picking up the pieces is a far harder task than you had ever anticipated.

Days pass. Weeks. Months. At first, you have to force yourself to wake up from that dream again and again, catching yourself with the image of second stars to the right even as you promised yourself that you would never think of it again, but it gets easier as time goes by. That hurts more than it should, but you have no other choice. Peter does not put himself in your dreams again. You do not show up to Neverland. Everything is exactly as it was before, but worse, because now you have those memories of a time that was far better than this one.

You’re walking home from school one day when you’re reminded of Neverland again. It’s a strong memory, forcing itself to the front of your mind. Green trees, the leaves waving overhead. The breeze whipping at your face. You can’t imagine why you’d be thinking of it again, and then you turn a corner and he’s there in front of you. 

Peter.

It’s impossible. You’re not dreaming, so he shouldn’t be here unless– unless he actually came here. You stand stock-still, hardly daring to breathe, and Peter looks back at you, just as shaken even though he’s the one who came all this way.

“I miss you,” he says slowly, unsteadily. You’ve never seen Peter hesitant, or ever show any sign of a lapse in his typical cocky confidence. Not until now, that is. Truly, he has no idea how you will treat him now that you’ve already left once before and gotten away with it.

“I know,” you tell him, “I know.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, trying to get a read on you. “Did you miss me?”

You take a step to the side, looking at the nearby scenery, anything but him. “Yes. Parts of it. I missed running with the Lost Boys under the trees. I missed the bonfires and the dancing. And yes, I think I missed you. But I hated feeling like you didn’t want me there, and for a while, that was enough to make me think I didn’t miss you.”

Peter’s eyes are wide, twin emeralds twinkling in the quiet air. “And what about now that I’m here? Can you miss me now?”

“I can,” you decide at last. You do. You have, and seeing him again has ripped open a fresh wound you swore had already healed. Blood is oozing around your fingers, but for some reason being with him still takes away the pain of such a grievous blow.

Peter holds out a hand to you. He’s trembling slightly, far less sure of himself than he’d been in a dream of your bedroom many months ago. Still. He wants you even now.

“Come back with me,” he says, “Back to Neverland. We all need you. I need you. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. It was always your home, I didn’t realize it before. It could be your home again.”

You look at him. It’s been a long time. You’ve grown up in the time since you last stepped foot on the island, but strangely enough, you think he has too. That’s why you’re able to take his hand at last, and trust that he will not let you down again. He needs you, just like he said. As it turns out, you need him too.

Peter’s smile is radiant. “Shall we go back, then?”

You allow yourself to smile back at last. “I think we will.”

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @eclliipsed, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

[luna-rainbow]

Do you think Bucky ever got any sleep during all his years of Hydra captivity? Or was it just wipe/kill/back in the freezer? I don't think cryostasis would be anything like normal restorative REM sleep.

Hello nonnie!! I have finally had a light-bulb moment for this ask (I'm sorry it's taken me like 7 months)

I've been going about it the wrong way, trying to research on sleep, when in actuality what I should have been researching is the brain under hypothermia. This is an observational study conducted in the 1980s looking at children undergoing induced hypothermia (lowering of body temperature) during cardiopulmonary bypass (sometimes required during major surgery). In summary, by the time the body temperature cooled to 18 degrees, all brain activity ceased. Sleep - consisting of non-REM and particularly REM - are associated with far more active brain waves. So nonnie, you are very correct in saying that Bucky, even with his super soldier abilities, unlikely ever got any "sleep" during cryostasis. (I'm sorry to all the ficcers that wrote Bucky dreaming during cryo but I think most people are happy to ignore this piece of science)

In terms of whether Bucky ever got "sleep", I think that is hard to say. Even normal soldiers might drive themselves to go without sleep for 36+ hours if required for a mission (heck, even hospital shifts go for 36 hours in some places). As a super soldier, Bucky might tolerate sleep deprivation for longer. This means missions like taking out the Starks - travelling from Russian and back - he might achieve in one sitting without sleeping in between (although I guess no one can stop him from dozing off on the plane).

I think one implied part of your question is "is it likely that Bucky was allowed out of the freezer for long enough periods at a time to need (and get) sleep"? I feel like that is unlikely, judging from the "he's been out of cryo for too long" line from CATWS. The timeline goes: day 1 Bucky makes assassination attempts daytime + night time against Fury / day 2 Steve makes a run down to Jersey arriving there at night / day 3 Bucky attacks Steve on the causeway and then we get the nighttime vault scene where Bucky is "unstable". Even if we add a day or two prior to allow for prepping, that still means Bucky becomes "unstable" and questions his identity within a bare week of being out of cryo.

Credit @lost-shoe (this post)

Now onto the angst...we know anaesthetics is not like restful sleep, so theoretically neither is cryostasis. While the science of cryostasis doesn't exist at the moment, we know from artificial hypothermia in surgical situations that it puts incredible stress on the body and all its organs. Looking at the laboratory derangements during hypothermia it looks like it pushes the body over to anaerobic metabolism and causes lactate to go up. You know when you go for a run and your muscles cramp up because you haven't warmed up enough? That's because your muscles have produced too much lactate from anaerobic metabolism. So...no wonder Bucky can't stand when he comes out of the cryo chamber. It also increases one's bleeding risk and reduces one's healing speed, so take of that what you will for your Whumptober prompts 😂

I also wonder whether, because the brain is not receiving any REM sleep during cryo, it means Bucky has been in a constant state of sleep deprivation for the last 70 years. The theory of "prefrontal vulnerability" in sleep deprivation proposes that functions like language, executive functions, divergent thinking, and creativity are particularly affected, so that can contribute to Bucky's inability to process/produce complex language and his slowness when it comes to working through complex problems. It also has significant effect on memory and attention: it's interesting to note that during sleep deprivation of more than 35 hours, they found that while free recall was affected, recognition was not. (Disclaimer for science: small sample size, opposite result for subjects with sleep deprivation ~24 h).

So yeah, I think there are practical reasons why Hydra would not allow Bucky to have restorative sleep between missions. Consolidation of long term memory (i.e. transferring them from short term storage into long term storage) usually happens during sleep which means it is quite likely Bucky remembers only broken bits of his time (if at all) in the last 7 decades.

[secondjulia]

Necessary but Stupid -> The StarvingArtist!Dream/Plasma AU You Didn't Request

UM. So. This was definitely just a weird little AU idea I had... definitely not while hooked up at csl daydreaming about Dream & Hob... that I was just going to dump in @gabessquishytum's Ask, as one does with weird little AU ideas. And then it kind of exploded. Into an actual story.

---Rated: G. Logistics in the tags. Ao3 link ---

There's no stopping the dark cloud that passes over Hob's head the moment he opens the door to the plasma center. But now he can smile brightly through it and let the storm blow quietly away. The dark memories this place holds still surface every time he walks in, but he's never once considered not going. Even though it's been ten years since Eleanor and the babe died of some rare blood condition that triggered childbirth complications, Hob's still there twice a week, every week, rain or shine.

He waves to the clerk at the desk. The security guard greets him with a comment about the latest football match, and Hob makes an appropriately pained, commiserating expression. He asks the technician taking his blood pressure how his honeymoon went — Côte d'Albâtre, right? — and Hob reminisces cheerily about his own trips to France.

Nobody’s ever exactly happy at the plasma center, but the sunny professor’s relentlessly friendly chatter brightens everyone’s day. All the staff know him by name, his surprisingly colorful stories can help pass the time on those long-line days, and his smile always lights up the room. 

Sure, Hob can be kind of opinionated — like whenever he declares that death is stupid and nobody should have to die of preventable diseases! Everyone just goes along with it, and it’s so cruel! (Nobody actually disagrees, but he is very vocal about it.) The first time he said this — sitting hunched with downcast eyes, just weeks after his wife’s death — his voice was soft with hopelessness, and it cracked as he held back tears. But ten years later, when people ask him why he’s still doing this when he’s a tenured professor with a summer cottage and a retirement plan, Hob declares jovially that death is stupid! Nobody has to die when he can give them something they need from his own arms — it’s a renewable resource! 

Hob, it cannot be said enough, brightens everyone's day — usually.

But not today. Not everyone's.

Dream cannot believe the insufferable words coming out of this man’s mouth. It's the first day Dream’s set foot in this particular center, and he already wants to go home. 

But home is the problem. Dream's new apartment is much cheaper than the building that just evicted him, but this latest series of paintings are taking far longer to complete than he'd hoped. And also, the art world just fucking sucks. Dream can't fool himself. Even when the paintings are ready, it's unlikely they'll sell well enough or soon enough to plug the gaps in his income. 

For years, Dream played the whole shitty-jobs roulette to support his art, but ever since he was kidnapped and spent years in a glass cage in a basement, he can’t even manage that. Seriously, try explaining that kind of resumé gap to a job interviewer. When he does manage to get work, it always goes bad fast. Dream wasn’t exactly totally undamaged before, but now he feels like he's all scars.

Dream is not here by choice. He cannot imagine who would be. 

He'd gone to his old plasma center for years — till he was forced to move — in order to make ends meet. Today, he's here to fill in the glaring gap between the meager payment he got for a small watercolor last January, his savings, and a near-maxed-out credit card. (Nearly maxed out in the hasty scramble to get to a cheaper place to live. Moving was expensive. Funny how that works.) The plasma center is, in some ways, far preferable to many of the jobs he's had in the past, and it allows Dream to spend more time on his art. But it is absolutely unfathomable how anybody could pursue an eternity of this if they didn’t have to. 

Dream keeps his head down avoiding the attention of the chatty professor. He stays quiet. His cold, bony hands are tucked into his long cardigan sleeves except for when he's chugging water, nearly by the gallon. He's about 2kg from the next weight class. Unfortunately, he's lost weight since his eviction, but if he could bump the scale a little higher, it would mean a higher draw — and a slightly higher payment. He's always cold these days, so the heavy sweater isn't a hardship, and the water fills up his stomach and supplements his inadequate lunch of oatmeal and stolen sugar packets.

The first time Dream meets Professor Hob’s eyes is when they’re sliding the needle into his arm and Dream has to turn his head away sharply. Dream was never afraid of needles — not until that night when someone (he later learned it was a twisted old cult leader named Burgess) stuck him with… something that knocked him out cold and he woke up in the basement. These days, although he's done this many times before, when the metal pricks his skin, Dream still lays frozen like an ice sculpture as his heart pounds against his chest.

He has sold his vintage leather jacket, his treasured collection of elegant handmade cloaks (there was a theatrical phase, it’s complicated), and most of his books (the shelves of his sparse apartment now hold only a few cheap volumes of blank paper for his sketches). But it wasn’t enough. 

Burgess was years ago, but Dream's life still lies in ruins.

He does not like being here. But it seems that this — his body's materials, his very essence — is the only thing of value he has to offer the world. This most basic biological function, the blood pumping through his veins, is all anyone wants of him now.

So despite his fear, he lets them bleed him.

Hob is usually quiet when he’s hooked up to the machine. He'll chat in the line and in the lobby and at the vitals check, but on the donation floor, he politely minds his own business. Here, everyone retreats into their own world, usually scrolling on their phone or staring at the clock. People don't usually feel like talking when they’ve got a needle in their arm. And Hob’s an extrovert, not an asshole. 

But today, the man beside him looks over, and Hob can’t wrench his eyes away. The man is thin and sheet white and his eyes are huge and watery over jutting cheekbones. His lips might be trembling.

“Alright there?” Hob asks kindly. 

The man’s head twitches. It might be a nod.

Hob has seen people pass out here before. With the way this guy looks, Hob’s mildly shocked that anyone thought it was a good idea to drain him of vital fluids. But the people here know their business. His numbers must be under control, or else he wouldn’t’ve been allowed in.

Still, under control doesn’t necessarily mean ok.

So Hob gently keeps the conversation going with the man. Dream, he learns and his heart flutters at the name. He weirdly doesn’t seem bothered by Hob’s donation floor chatter (maybe because he's too bothered by the needle in his arm to notice anything else). Dream doesn’t even pull out a phone. He seems to hang on Hob’s every word of small talk. 

“I can shut up if you’d life,” Hob offers when he realizes with a shock that he’s babbled through the entire first draw. “It just seemed like you needed some distraction.”

“Please.” Dream blushes slightly. Well, at least his skin is getting some blood. “Tell me about… your experiences. What… have you been doing?”

Huh? 

What has he been doing? That’s vague. 

But if anyone can find a way to fill a vague prompt, it’s Hob. So he chatters some more about the union organizing at his university and a ridiculous new scheduling system for the adjuncts — it’s like they’ve taken all the worst aspects of on-demand scheduling from the fast food industry and applied it to higher education for some incomprehensible reason. One of his colleagues had a class — and £2000 of pay — cancelled two days before term started. But not everything’s bad. Hob knows the students are planning a walkout next week, which he fully supports and has already adjusted his lessons to compensate for the lost time. Also, there’s a new pizza place on campus which is rather decent.

He really is just rambling. 

But Dream seems to need it. He hasn’t looked down at his arm once, and Hob’s certain that’s for the best.

Dream has to admit that the insufferable professor has made the time go by a lot quicker. He’s shocked when they’re sliding the needle out of his arm, then wrapping his elbow up, and he’s free to go. He mumbles what he hopes is a polite goodbye to Hob, who is also finishing up, and then practically stumbles out into the rain.

He clutches his cardigan around him and pulls up his hood and plods away from the center. This place is closer to the new apartment than his previous plasma center, but it’s still a half hour hike home. The buses take even longer — his crappy apartment isn't exactly on a convenient route. But at least walking saves him a few quid.

“Hey!” 

The voice makes Dream flinch. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a car slow down beside him, and his heart ratchets up in his chest. He doesn’t look over, only hunches deeper into his wet cardigan and walks faster.

“Hey, Dream!”

Oh.

Belatedly, Dream recognizes Hob’s voice. He finally looks up to see Hob looking out his car window and smiling despite the rain streaming onto his face.

“Looks like you could use a ride!” Hob jerks his head toward the passenger’s seat. “Hop in!”

Dream stares at the kindly professor. Who offers a stranger a ride in their car? Sure, Dream spent the last forty five minutes listening to every mundane detail of this guy's super normie professional life, but they still barely know each other! And if Hob actually knew Dream — a failed starving artist and all around fuckup, consistently two minutes away from homelessness — there’s no way he’d want to associate with him outside of the polite minimum of chatter at the center. 

So what the fuck is Hob playing at?

“Come on, you’ll get soaked!” Hob prods.

Fear strikes Dream, and he recoils, stumbling away from the vehicle.

“Dream? You alright there?”

But Dream is already running, tearing off through the rain. He cuts through a shitty neglected park, climbs a fence and gets chased by a rottweiler through a closed off parking lot, and dashes across a highway — almost getting hit twice.  He doesn’t stop running until he’s home.

Or, well, what passes for his home now. 

Dream dries off, makes some tea, and grabs a sketchbook. His hand shakes as he doodles, but the process calms him and grounds his mind. 

Then, as usual, after his fear begins to ebb, he feels stupid.

His mind replays the afternoon's events. Hob’s smile is brilliant in his memory. Though the initial snatches of overheard conversation were insufferable — not to mention incomprehensible — his recitation of the mundane details of life had been oddly calming. And, though Dream had perhaps not appreciated it in the moment, Hob had seemed genuinely concerned. 

The more Dream thinks about it, the stupider he feels. Worse, he feels ashamed. How rude to run from Hob, who’d only wanted to help! 

The scar tissue that has proliferated over Dream’s heart has truly damaged his ability to function among decent people. That night, he lays awake for a long time thinking about this. He should probably just never go back to the plasma center. He can’t imagine facing Hob after reacting so poorly to his kindness.

But the next day, after he scribbles up the month’s expenses and tries to make the math work, Dream realizes he has no choice. 

The day after that, he’s plodding back to the plasma center.

The feelings of shame are almost overwhelming, and Dream slouches in with his head lowered, shoulders hunched, and eyes averted from everyone. 

“Dream!” Hob’s voice is like a warm bubble bath. “Hope you got home alright.”

Dream can barely look at him, but Hob's smile is like a ray of sun on Dream’s face. There’s a cloud of concern shadowing his eyes, but he’s otherwise as cheery as ever.

“Forgive me. I…” Dream cannot explain. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I totally overstepped,” Hob says. “I know I can be a bit much, and I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

Dream cannot believe that Hob is apologizing to him. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Hob said gingerly, “was that your first time? It’s just you didn’t seem particularly pleased with the whole process. I thought I’d likely never see you in here again.”

“It was not. I have done this…” Too many times to count. “…frequently.” Dream finds the prospect of explaining the complexity of his situation too daunting. But he is touched by Hob’s concern. “I do not enjoy the process.”

Hob makes a sympathetic noise.

“But I did enjoy…” Dream pauses. What the fuck is he doing? Hob’s been kind enough to overlook his rudeness; Dream should just shut up and leave him alone. But maybe Dream has been alone too long, been too long without a sympathetic ear, because he keeps on mumbling, “I enjoyed hearing about your university. With the union… and the pizza… and everything.”

Impossibly, Hob brightens even further. “I could take you! The pizza really is delicious—Oh, shit, sorry, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” The cloud of concern is back as he takes in Dream’s downcast gaze. “I’m being too much. Sorry, I didn't mean to push!”

“No, not at all. It sounds lovely. I just…” Dream shifts awkwardly. “They don’t exactly pay us enough here for going out.”

“Oh, I’ll get it!" Hob says with a wave of his hand. "It’s no problem. I’d love to take you out. You looked like you could’ve used a good meal after that last one. Have you at least eaten something so far today?” Hob tries to keep the worry out of his voice so he doesn’t sound like a mother hen. All the instructional materials are very explicit about not donating on an empty stomach, but he knows that people do what they have to. 

“I have,” Dream says honestly. His lips twitch as he takes in Hob’s worried look. But Hob's smile, even suppressed, is a beautiful thing. “Really,” Dream stresses. “Oatmeal is cheap. I've had enough to be getting on with things. But later…”

“Great!” Hob’s heart flutters, but he stamps down the feeling. The memory of Dream running from him twists at his heart. He never wants to make him afraid again. 

On the donation floor, they're next to each other again. And again Hob chatters happily about whatever he can think of to keep Dream distracted. It all seems to go well until they emerge together into the parking lot and Hob notices Dream tense as he glances at Hob’s car.

“We can hop on the bus, if you prefer,” Hob says. “The campus is just down the main line, and I've got extra passes.”

Dream blushes, and his shoulders hunch like he's ashamed. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s nothing of the sort! It saves on gas and it's good for the planet!”

At the bus stop, Hob notices the way Dream’s gaze constantly flicks around his surroundings. Even when he looks down and hunches in on himself, his eyes remain alert, as if he's still hyperaware of every movement on his periphery. Hob wants so badly to reach out and comfort him and wipe away whatever has caused him to move through life with such fear, but he doesn't dare overstep. 

Hob is glad that the pizza place is in the bustling, well-lit central food court. Dream's body relaxes somewhat, and that specific tension which Hob had notice in the parking lot doesn't return. Hob buys him a giant slice of spinach, mushroom, and feta and a sealed bottle of water, and Dream even cracks a smile.

“I apologize for my behavior,” Dream says as they find seats at a plastic table in the middle of the food court. 

“No need," Hob says. "I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You were being kind, and I reacted… extremely.” Dream takes a deep breath and then a long sip of water.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hob hastens to assure him, "about… whatever happened… if you don't want to."

Dream nods. He knows. Despite his annoyingly resurgent fear, he feels safe around Hob. So slowly, hesitantly, he begins to explain. 

It’s an abbreviated form of the story. Dream avoids the details of how Burgess thought he could siphon the life force from vibrant young adults. How he'd drawn a whole following into his delusion, even though he'd ultimately kept Dream for himself. How (Dream had learned later) Burgess had boasted about having a fresh young man, the font of youth, trapped in his basement — and no one had done anything, whether because he was just a rich eccentric who could get away with a "joke" like that or because he'd paid enough people off. He didn't tell Hob how the elder Burgess hadn't ever been held accountable because he'd died before any of it had come to light, and the younger Burgess had fallen into a coma. A care worker had ultimately taken a wrong turn, stumbled into the basement, and that was how the police were finally called to Fawney Rig. But since no one was alive (or conscious) for a big, thrilling trial, the entire ordeal just fizzled quietly into the background.

It’s not the whole story. But it's enough. 

Hob’s face grows progressively more horrified. He's abandoned his half-eaten pesto and prosciutto slice. It sits cold in front of him now. He feels sick.

“I make art,” Dream says into the silence. “It is not lucrative, but I can work when and how I wish. I have not… had a great deal of luck with traditional employment. Especially not since… those events.”

“Right. Of course." Hob's voice cracks over his words. For once, he's struggling to extract his usual chatter. "Can’t imagine anything’s easy after that.” 

Hob doesn't touch the remainder of his pizza, but Dream polishes his off. He looks oddly relaxed now, as if, in the telling, some of the weight of the horrifying story has slid from his body. 

“I’d love to see your art,” Hob says on the bus back to the plasma center parking lot. Belatedly, he cringes at the presumption, wondering if it's too much, knowing now that he really ought not to push his interest onto a bloody kidnap victim.

“I have a website,” Dream says, bringing it up on his phone and showing the address to Hob. Then he stands, though they're only about halfway back to the center. “This stop is closer to my home. I… Thank you. For the meal. And the kind ear. Perhaps… I will see you next Tuesday?”

“Of course,” Hob says, and a little bubble of happiness rises in his chest. “It’s Tuesday and Thursday for me until the schedule changes next term.”

Over the next few weeks, Hob isn’t always next to Dream on the donation floor. But he asks Dream to tell him about his latest project afterwards, so Dream has something to think about during the donation. And also so that it's not just Hob chattering away at their post-donation dinners. Which are happening regularly now. Sometimes they go for pizza, sometimes a good curry or a hefty shawarma; Hob introduces Dream to the pubs with the best (and biggest) burgers. He knows all the places to get a solid, filling dinner, not because he's concerned about getting his money's worth but because Hob just enjoys a good meal and he's more than happy to help put some meat on Dream's bones.

And get the artist to open up. 

Slowly, Dream begins to do just that.

It starts to seem like Dream feels safe with Hob. When they're out, he stands close to Hob, as if comforted by his presence. His shoulders begin to straighten out, and he hunches less when they're together. Dream's gaze is still alert, but it rarely sinks to the floor now, and his eyes don't flick fearfully around so much when he's with Hob. 

Three weeks after they meet, Dream lets Hob drive him home.

Two weeks after that, he invites Hob inside to see his current projects. 

Hob knew Dream was a good artist from the first glimpse at his website, but seeing the bright canvases in person is just stunning. The glistening abstractions echo the swirling galaxies and deep, black voids of the universe. The colors blend in fantastic points of light or unearthly flames or brilliant streaks across the sky. The textures — flattened out in the photos — give an impression of looking into entire worlds. The brushstrokes are mountain ranges and deep ocean trenches and shaded valleys where, somehow, Hob can imagine entire populations living and thriving within the fibers of the canvas.

"The, erm… the university has spaces for community exhibits," Hob says, struggling to bring himself out of the captivating images as if wading out of a dream. How appropriate. "I could look into that, see if you could do a show. Maybe the Art Department could have you in for a lecture, too — you could talk about the real-life challenges of being an artist, the actual work involved, the practical—" Oh no. He's being too much again. "I mean, of course, you don't have to! I won't say anything without—"

Dream's arms are around Hob's shoulders before Hob can even turn away from the canvas. His wild, dark hair is tucked against Hob's cheek as Dream tightens his grip.

Hob's hands slowly move to Dream's back. He can't speak for a long moment. Instead, his hands gently rub against the thin material of Dream's shirt. Hob can feel the edges of his spine and ribcage, but Dream also feels softer than Hob would've imagined the first time he saw him, pale and shaking, weeks ago.   

"Thank you," Dream murmurs. He steps back, and his gaze lowers, but now it's not filled with fear and sadness. He's smiling shyly. "If you could do that, I-I… would be grateful."

Hob can do that!

He's in Medieval History himself, but he's friends with half the Art History department due to overlapping lectures, the occasional historical consultation or spontaneous debate, and just being a friendly guy. And the Art History people know a few of the more curious, historically-aware Art people due to various collaborations and consultations on the evolution of modern styles and techniques and the socio-political contexts of artistic development. 

Hob, with his talent for striking up conversation, takes less than a week to find several interested parties. And once he shows them Dream's work, everyone is extremely eager to invite the talented local artist to campus!

The next time Hob walks into the plasma center, Dream is already beaming. His smile is bright enough to singlehandedly banish the residual storm cloud that always follows Hob over the threshold.

"I hit the next weight class," Dream says. He leans subtly into Hob's side.

"Good on you!" Hob says, beaming right back. When he tells Dream about the interest in his work, Dream's arm snakes around his waist for a subtle but firm half-hug.

At Dream's first show (he's already scheduled in with both the Art and Art History Departments — the latter wants to address the reality of artist's lives across time — and, hell, Hob's even lobbying his own History Department to get Dream in as part of a series on creative work throughout history), Hob is enamored with one canvas he hasn't seen before. From a distance it's a dark oil-slick abstraction with iridescent slashes of green and blue, but up close, Hob can see the feathery edges of wings.

He cannot explain the sudden, confusing wave of sorrow-joy-awe it provokes deep in his chest.

"Departed souls," Dream says softly, coming up behind Hob, "come back as ravens. Or so it is believed by some."

Hob sniffs and tries to control the itch in his eyes as he turns toward Dream. "Oh?"

"I painted this one soon after I regained my freedom. It felt like a part of me had not survived the imprisonment. It was… necessary, perhaps, to lose something in order to regain my life, but it hurt nonetheless."

"Oh." Hob doesn't know what else to say, but he reaches out, gingerly wrapping an arm around Dream, waiting for any hint of refusal, but Dream turns into him and clutches him tight, and Hob's arms tighten around him in turn. "It's beautiful," he finally says, his words muffled against Dream's hair. 

"I think now… maybe… some part of me that had not survived… has come back. In some form."

And Hob is gone. Tears leak down into Dream's hair. Hob clutches at him for support, but he can feel himself shaking, and now it's Dream rubbing soothing patterns into his back and tightening the embrace.

When they finally pull back, Dream wipes Hob's cheeks with his palm. He tilts his head in a silent question.

"Just… death," Hob says. "It's bloody stupid, isn't it? In all its forms. Necessary, maybe but stupid. I don't want any part of it."

Hob laughs at himself, as if the brash declaration itself is stupid. 

But Dream only nods; he can see that there are deep forces moving beneath Hob's usually cheery exterior. 

On the way home, he listens as Hob finally opens up about his wife and the unborn babe. After a decade, Hob says, the wound has closed up, he has "moved on" in all the ways one is supposed to move on, he has a new — and rather wonderful — life. But the scar will remain forever. It still hurts, but he's grateful for the life he had and the new one he's grown into.

"Shit," Hob says suddenly.

Dream looks around and realizes they haven't driven back to his own crappy apartment building. 

"Sorry." Hob wipes his eyes. "I've blabbered so much, I wasn't paying attention. Driven myself right home."

"It's alright," Dream says. He peeks over at Hob shyly. "I've never seen your place."

Hob blinks at him for a moment — Dream's heart thuds against his throat — and then, despite the tear tracks still drying on his cheeks, Hob's face breaks into a brilliant smile. 

"Are you hungry?" Hob asks. "I can actually cook quite well. It's not always pub food and pizza."

With perfect timing, Dream's stomach gives an almost painful rumble. "I'm starving."

Inside, Hob cooks a delectable dinner. Dream watches Hob move about the kitchen, chattering happily — he's already inviting Dream back over for brunch and maybe a Netflix marathon and Christmas. And Dream's mind is blossoming with new paintings, these ones bright with twining paths and colliding galaxies and shared dreams.

Hob is vaguely aware that he might be babbling into too much territory again, but when he sees Dream watching him with that dreamy sparkly in his eyes, his heart is just too full to care. As they eat together, he lets himself just be excited and not worry about reining himself in. Truly, he might not mind an eternity of this.

And Dream is thinking much the same thing.

[moonchild505]

Vivid shadows 2024 Day 2

It's finally time today is the day I leave. I was done with the insults from my peers and the constant jabs from potential people to apprentice under. It drove me crazy I knew I never fit in with the other men of the village, I was just sick and tired of my differences being brought to light so I'd made plans to leave.

I was going to make my way to a nearby city to work as a scribe for a lower ranking nobleman, I was always praised for my writing abilities and simply sending a message to this noble was a decent interview it seemed.

My bags were packed for the week long walk ahead of me. Managing to get some travel clothes and some supplies to keep myself fed and moving during the long trek. With a goodbye to my parents my mother giving me a small wooden idol, shaped like a fox. My father rather quiet seemingly coming to terms with my decision the time up to this point he kept questioning where this came from. I appreciated the quiet I knew we didn't agree but I'm an adult I can make my own choices.

As I turned to leave the village my mother called out, "Keep that figure close it's meant to keep you safe from forest spirits."

I was more than happy to keep the gift close though more as a reminder of home than anything supernatural, I may not have the best memories here but it's still home.

The first day was relatively quiet didn't run into anybody on the road as expected I knew getting closer to the city I'd probably start bumping into travelers and merchants.

It felt like just a few short hours before the sun began to crest the horizon it was unfortunate I couldn't make it to the first village in my stop to rest there. I had planned for this however using my pack to rest my head on and using a loose piece of fabric to cover myself for some protection in the unlikely event it started to rain. Patting the ground down I sat and prepared to eat some travel food.

During my short meal I noticed something or at least thought I did, a rush of white out in the treeline. I panicked a bit at first but calmed myself brushing it off as either a small animal or just my eyes playing tricks on me. I definitely appreciated the presence of the idol that night placing it close to me facing out into the woods.

I woke up the next morning a little sore but otherwise fine. I began to pack up but froze when I came to pick up the idol, it wasn't facing into the woods anymore, it had turned to face exactly where I had slept. I decided to just pack it up and make my way to the next village. My pace was definitely much quicker than the day before.

Reaching the small village I had planned to stop by was quite the relief I found my lodging and just decided to rest for the rest of the day, some anxiety building around the turning of my wooden figure and that white flash I saw at night.

Once I was settled down for bed once more I left the idol on the floor facing the door. It took a bit longer to go to sleep that night, struggling to shake the feeling I was being watched. Eventually the exhaustion of travel took me to sleep.

I woke up in the morning and I felt incredibly sore which was odd for having just slept in a proper bed. It felt like my body was almost pressing against itself. Some morning stretches lessened the pain that was a boon I was thankful for. I went to pack up freezing again at the idol it was once again turned to face me. It even left an unusual dent in the flooring. That was definitely a concerning omen.

I tried not to think about it the rest of the day and it worked somewhat but before I knew it night fell. I cussed myself out for not making it to my next stop in time but had no option to settle down before I couldn't see and broke my foot on a stray tree root in the dark. I setup and when I went to fetch the idol, I couldn't find it. I panicked and began to stare back on the rapidly darkening trail hopeful I dropped it just a short ways back.

I didn't see it. I stared into the woods in a panic too filled with fear to eat that night. I kept spying that same white flash that night and some small part of me desperately didn't want to sleep tonight. Eventually I passed out the exact time of when was a blur.

I woke up with a start, thrashing to escape a nightmare but found that I was pinned down under the moon by a pale woman. I was confused as to what was happening. It all became clear as a set of white tails flicked into view behind her nude body.

I tried to break free but found a great deal of resistance the moonlight catching on her body enough for me to get a proper view of her. She was gorgeous, she had an incredibly soft looking body ,a slight pang of jealousy and desire attempted but failed to cut into my panic.

She called out where my eyes had gone,"There will be time for that later little kit. First I need to free you, I've been following you for days and watched you struggle to break free of that prison you think is your body."

I gave her a confused expression that feeling cutting through the panic, the feeling only exploding further as she leaned in to kiss me. After the kiss I felt my body go limp she let me go but I could just raise my arms off the ground.

The panic resurfaced as I watched what I can only describe as steel claws grow out from the tips of her fingers. She lowered her one hand with a slash, I see the massive splash of blood, seeing tatters of my clothes sent flying drops of flesh blood tinting them red. I wanted to scream but felt no pain to scream for even just calling for help brought only a whimper from my lips.

She continued to cut at my body with careful slices. I thought that this was the night I die. I kept waiting and waiting for the blackness of death to take me but it never happened. The more she cut the more of my blood covered the floor the less constrained I felt. Feeling returning to my hands but I couldn't bring myself to stop her. Some deep part of me kept me still some part wanted her to finish.

I don't know how long I was on the ground in that meadow but eventually the kitsune stopped cutting at me. She offered me her hand and I took it. My mind a bit of a blur as she guided me to a small stream and we went into it together. I felt yet more blood and even bits of flesh get dragged away by the stream. I arched as I suddenly felt a sudden extreme pang of pain in my spine. She held me tight as it happened the pain intense enough I collapsed fully into her arms, those terrifying claws now gentle hands to hold me close.

The pain subsided very suddenly but I couldn't shake a new odd sensation I had felt. She lifted me out of the water and placed me beside it. I looked into her eyes her ears twitching almost showing some tinge of excitement. She gestured for me to look into the water. I did and while the stream wasn't a perfect mirror I could see something was off. The face that stared back at me was much softer, my black hair was still there but now a pair of black fox ears sat at the top. Twitching and turning at every little sound. Even the darkness of night was more manageable as I could just barely see that my eyes had changed as well.

I crawled back from the stream unsure about what had happened only to notice that my own figure had changed. All the flesh cut off me yet I had no scratches on my skin, not even old scars from my youth. Though what caused the biggest shock was the pair of breasts that now adorned my chest. I quickly gazed between my legs to see that that too had changed.

I was panicked again but not out of fear just overwhelming confusion. This should feel all wrong but I felt free and like this is what was inside me the whole time. I didn't even question as a jet black fox tail wrapped around me and I instinctively grabbed it. The other kitsune sat beside me now. That same gentle demeanor as she brought comfort to this confusing event. I ended up dozing off in her arms.

[bunnakit]

last twilight e2 thoughts feelings etc

As always, I'm just some dude on the internet. I could be way off base with some of this but I just think it's fun to think about. Night asking Mhok to make him a cup of coffee was very interesting. Mhok is not there as a general staff, cook, etc. He's there to help Day and only Day and Night is fully capable of making himself a cup of coffee. Curious if this is a hint at Night helping himself to things intended for Day, coveting things Day has, etc. It definitely didn't feel like a throw away action.

I appreciate Porjai very, very gently reprimanding Mhok for being nosy in cleaning up Day's room. It was a bit of a misstep for Mhok and he needed to know that. It's important to let us disabled people ask for help when we need it and not assume we always need help. While the state of Day's room was very likely a concern for safety reasons and general health he should have been asked at the very least if it should or could be cleaned. It's not unlike grabbing the handles of someone's wheelchair and pushing them when they didn't ask to - You don't know what Day has a system for, you don't know what paths he's memorized, or even what obstacles he may have set up for himself intentionally to guide himself to different parts of the room. While it seems difficult for Day to ask for help it is something he's going to have to get accustomed to and he will with time, jumping in and making changes without his consent robs him of more of his already so very scarce agency he's been allowed.

Aon telling Day he needs to be patient and learn to talk to sighted people is huge. I made a post last week about my favorite thing being Day's anger and this is absolutely true, however, it can be so very easy to wallow in your grief and anger if you let yourself. It's important for Day to be angry, it's important for him to be impatient, but it's also important for him to push past those things and grow. Day needs to reevaluate his interpersonal interactions, he needs to relearn how to socialize especially without social queues from body language (something we often process subconsciously and take for granted.) All Day has now to go off of is voice inflection and his own critical thinking skills. He's going to have to be patient with people, he's going to have to adjust, and he's going to have to give Mhok a genuine chance. It's easy to isolate yourself when you're disabled, far too easy, and it's so much harder and scarier to try.

In the same vein as my first comment, the fumbled eye drops scene is so important, I loved it so much. It's Day realizing his limitations, coming to terms with them, and accepting that he needs help - he can't do everything on his own and that's okay, there are people there to help him if he just asks. And Mhok just does it. He doesn't make him feel silly or stupid or feeble, he just looks for the eye drops and hands them over. It's not A Thing, it's not anything more than just helping someone. It's easy, and it should be.

The Boob Grab sure is something. I did not know Jimmy was built like that. I'll talk more about this later.

"Living alone in a small fish tank is lonely, right?"

Oh fuck me UP. Living alone in this tiny bedroom is lonely, isn't it Day?

"Goldfish have a short memory. It can't be lonely."

Perhaps the goldfish's memory is so short because no one has ever taken the time to stick around. No one was worth remembering. And maybe the goldfish wishes he remembered some things less.

The fish is dying, suffocating in it's own filth and loneliness, suffocating from a lack of consideration and care. But suddenly the goldfish goes outside, it breathes fresh air, smells the blooming jasmine, and suddenly it doesn't feel like it's suffocating anymore. Things are a little clearer - not literally but it no longer feels like it's swimming through a miasma. (The goldfish is Day, btw.)

FUCK. ME. UP. I'm eating all of this like the delicious anniversary dinner I had tonight.

So lunch. I noticed this at the beginning of the episode but it's really driven home here. Zero accommodations have been made for Day in the span of a fucking year. There's been no safety measures made, no pathways made more accessible, and even more frustrating they've reorganized the fucking kitchen. It's like they sealed Day in a tomb and are just waiting for him to die so they can move on with business as usual. I would ask 'how is Day supposed to do anything for himself' but it's very clear no one thought of that. They all thought of him as this shambling shell of a man that couldn't possibly do basic tasks like find the soy sauce for himself, they didn't consider him even as an afterthought when rearranging everything. It shows Day's fall from grace within his own family in such a brutal way and it makes me so angry with his family.

The scene with Night and his friends is a lot. Day's anxiety is so palpable and the comments made make me wonder if Day's condition has been kept under wraps as some sort of shameful secret. I would be interested to see if there was an NDA in Mhok's contract.

And then we get Mhok's anxiety and raw fear. Mhok's worst nightmares came to fruition and he knows what hopelessness, frustration, and despair can do to a person. He knows it only takes the smallest thing to push someone into the unthinkable and he can't allow that to happen again. He failed to see it last time, failed to answer a call for help. He won't ever miss that call again.

Here's where we're going to come back to the boob grab and here's where I could be WAY FUCKING OFF BASE. I know we all love it, Jimmy boobie stress ball teehee, but there's also a moment of shock on Day's face when it happens. He's alarmed and taken aback and rightfully so because what the fuck this man is half naked in his room??? Then we come to this point where Mhok has just burst into his room while Day is naked and vulnerable and he knows Mhok has seen him. His reaction might seem harsh or impulsive but here's the tragic thing - A painful, horrible amount of caretakers in the world take advantage of their charges monetarily, sexually, or otherwise. (It's something I've personally seen happen to friends and family.)It's not the rule, but it happens enough to be notable.

It would not be difficult for Day to be taken advantage of and this is only his.. third? fourth? day with Mhok who is still very much a stranger to him. Mhok was completely justified in his reaction (and realistically should have a key for Day's room for emergencies only because God forbid Day fall in the bath or something) but Day's reaction is every bit justified as well. But I don't blame Day for his reaction because he very likely was afraid and his emotions were already so heightened from the mess with his brother, and I applaud Mhok for just leaving and leaving it at that. They both needed to calm down and Mhok leaves. He respects Day's decision, his agency, etc. He walks away from a job that could change his life.

Once again The Little Prince narrates the lives of these two perfectly. No notes, perfect, beautiful, muah.

The fucking slippers. Finally, someone has taken the time to understand. It was a simple solution to a large part of Day's frustration and pain. It has given him some of his agency back, taken away some of his fear. These stupid ugly goldfish slippers have given him so much and perhaps Mhok understands far more than Day gave him credit for because finally someone is listening to him, listening without him having to beg.

And Day going to see Mhok? That's huge. He could've asked Porjai to bring Mhok or ask him to come by but no; like The Prince he approaches the untamed fox.

And Mhok's desperation to understand. Fucking hell. He's gone above and beyond just being a caretaker and the way he says 'the way people look at us.' Because it's an us now, he wants to stand right by Day's side and shoulder this journey with him, to hold his hand and tell Day 'I'm here with you, you aren't alone.' I'm gonna chew my fucking upholstery.

This is only solidified with the addition of Big Mhok. Little Day isn't alone anymore and Big Mhok might be scary and intimidating but not for Little Day, never for Little Day. And then Day uses some of his precious ten fleeting seconds to see Mhok, to put a face to this insane, caring, brusque, ridiculous man that would live his days blindfolded just to understand someone else's perspective. Because Mhok is worth seeing.

Anyway they make me fucking insane, your honor. I don't know if I'll do this for every episode (if people like it enough, sure) but this one in particular had me feeling a lot of things.

[drowningyoursorrow]

CULTURE OF DISHONESTY

james patrick march x gn! reader / kai anderson x gn! reader

You were married to James for as long as you could remember, before and after he built the hotel. But as time grew, you knew he fell in love with another, the Countess he called her. You heard of their dinners together, but if you left, you'd have nothing. You gave it all up for James and his dark secrets, died alongside him. What will you do now?

!!!: mentions of death, murder, cheating, minor nsfw mentions, alcohol consumption W/C: 2.5k

You've been dead for nearly a century, and most of the time the halls of the Hotel Cortez were dead silent. Besides the moments from time to time when people were being murdered, and you could hear their screams. You've grown used to it, most of the time avoiding the areas where they came from. Although you died a while back, unlike James, you decided to try to keep up with the new eras and trends. James didn't seem to mind because he told you he loved your “ivory soul” and not how you appear.

Now you just laugh at the memory of it, ever since you've heard of his affair you've been looking into it. Of course, James believed you were oblivious to his own endeavors since you don't pry into his business. You've discovered that The Countess was purely the opposite of you, she was breathtaking, but you could tell her heart was cold. At first, you were insanely jealous and cried to yourself for weeks, but now, it just feels like a light sting. Of course, you still loved James and you loathed it because your heart still yearns from him like before.

You wish you would've at least grew out of love with him over tie like he did with you, maybe replace him or something. But you can't see yourself with any man other than James, you've decided to try to be distant to help. It has been working lately, you don't feel the urge to have to see him every second of your day anymore. But you assumed that since James has to keep up his act that he's still infatuated with you, he checks up on you.

Surprisingly, he noticed that you were no longer clinging onto his arm everywhere he went. Since he usually never really did acknowledge you even when you did do that, just growing accustomed to the feeling. As you were getting prepared to head to the bar, to drink your own pitiful sorrows away. James appeared, typically he was off wooing the countess or doing his killings, you've figured out his plans to avoid him. You were wearing something on the fancier side, deciding it'd best to look expensive while you have your mental breakdown.

He halted in his steps as he studied your get-up, often you didn't wear anything fancy since it wasn't really the style anymore. You felt relieved now since you didn't blush under his gaze anymore and just gave him an unimpressed look. He strode toward where you were and stood behind you and smoothed his hands across your sides. Nuzzling his head into the side of your neck, "you look ravishing, dearest. It feels like forever since I have seen you dress so eloquently."

You felt a certain distaste in your mouth as his hands touched you, knowing that he was doing this with someone else. So, you gently removed his hands off of you and stepped away from him, still facing away. Grabbing the rest of your necessities, "thank you, James." You paused, unsure of what else to say to brush him off, "I'm sorry, but I was just heading off somewhere. Maybe we can chat when I get back, hm?"

"Well, where are you heading? Maybe I can accompany you, may I remind you, I do own this hotel. I know all the secret and wonderful places." He spoke at you eagerly, going near you once more, holding out his arm so you could take it like you'd usually do. "Yes, I know James, I was there with you. But I was looking forward to spending some time with myself." James gave you a quizzical look, confused that you rejected his offer, usually you'd take every chance to be with him.

He rested his arm back to his side, thinking, "but we haven't spent a lot of time together recently, we better catch up on the days we've missed!" He was grinning at you now, the idea of you not wanting to be with him simply not registering for him. Him mentioning that you two not spending time together humored you, he was the reason for it. Always brushing off both of yours plans to go and be with the Countess, telling you he had business to attend to. "James, maybe another night? I must be going now, I'll see you when I return."

You gave him one last glance, his eyebrows were furrowed and a frown was evident on his features. For a moment you thought he looked, hurt, upset even. The idea made you laugh, surely he wouldn't be, he had no right to be. With that, you slammed the door and headed off to your destination, trying to stop the unconscious tears welling up in your eyes. "You're just being ridiculous, he doesn't care."

You made your way to the bar, it was empty as usual, and so you situated yourself more in the front. Liz knew of your current predicament and only could pity you, never bothering you when you did drunkenly sob about it. She gave you your usual bourbon before asking, "what happened this time, sweetie?" "You know, he pretended to care and acted sad when I didn't want to spend time with him. Like as if he wasn't blowing me off, so he could go be with her." You chugged the drink, the strong taste not bothering you, but there was a faint sting.

Although you've been trying not to bother yourself with your feelings of the situation, it still always made your heart squeeze. "Why does he even still try? Why can't he just go and tell me he doesn't want me anymore? Just give me some piece of mind." "Maybe you keep him grounded? You did stick by his side with everything, so if you were to just be gone it would feel… Unnatural. He never did like anything out of order." You chugged more of the bourbon she gave you, looking at the liquid, laughing that you were drinking his drink.

You were always a lightweight, no matter how much you'd drink, and how you never got used to how strong the liquid was. You rested your head on your hand as you stared at the empty glasses, "Him cheating on me is out of order, like if I had the guts I'd like to punch him or something." Liz smirked at your remark, before noticing someone take a seat at the bar. You slumped over and buried your head in your arms, hearing the faint voice of a man beside you.

In your hazy mind you thought of the affair, deciding if he's cheating on you, maybe you can cheat on him. That'll give him a reason to end it with you, since you were too scared to do it yourself. You peeked up to stare at the mysterious man, he was fairly lean but muscular. He was the opposite of James, and it enticed you, he had blue hair that hung above his shoulders. He sported a gray turtleneck paired with a black leather coat.

Unusual, but you had no right to judge, you look like you just attended the met gala. He had an intense gaze before he flicked his eyes at you, you didn't flinch. So you two just stared at each other, him sipping his drink as you both studied one another. It looked like he was judging your outfit as well, looking up at you with a really? look. You grinned and nodded your head sheepishly, he shifted to the seat right next to you and looked down at you.

"What's with the formal wear?" He spoke in a teasing tone yet it sounded soft and gruff at the same time. He was smiling at you amused, "well, just felt the need to look exquisite while I get insanely drunk. The usual." He laughed at your response, shaking his head as he chugged the rest of his drink. "What's with you? You look like you're about to mug someone."

You hiccuped while you giggled at yourself, but his gaze shifted to something serious as he looked at you. Before switching back to charming, "maybe I am?" "Wait wait, no offense, but why are you in a hotel like this? You look like a motel type of person." "Looked shady from the outside, so I went in, and it was the opposite. Got tricked, I guess?" You furrowed your brows, you haven't really seen the outside of the place in a while, being dead and all.

He looked at you some more, although you're dressed normally, he had a sense that you were different. You wore your hair old timely and had a bit of an accent to you, like those people in those old Hollywood films. "I'm Y/N by the way, in case you were wondering." You interrupted him, he was looking at you too much, your tone was sluggish yet serious in a way. "I'm Kai, Kai Anderson."

He brought his hand out to you, you shook it firmly, giggling because you haven't done that in a while. He seemed amused at your drunken state of mind, "do you live here, or?" "Hm, yeah, been staying here for a while. Wouldn't recommend." "Then why are you still here?" "Commitment, I am no quitter." He didn't look satisfied with your answer, looking frustrated for a quick second before he smiled at you.

"I was actually planning on to stay here for a while, you want to show me all the good spots?" You smiled at that, you two were unconsciously leaning against each other, you just now noticed. So you shifted back to your original spot, Kai giving you a confused look but not saying anything. "Yeah, I can, I know all the juicy spots." "Juicy?" "Isn't that like... a slang?" "Not anymore."

You cringed at yourself, maybe you need to reeducate yourself again. "Well, I know some pretty amazing spots, nice and quiet." He hummed at your response, swigging one last drink before he stood up. "Maybe when you're sober." With that, he headed to the elevators, giving you one last wave before he was gone.

You cheekily smiled at yourself, feeling accomplished, feeling Liz's eyes on you, looking impressed. You felt smug and sloppily sat up, walking to the elevator in unsteady steps. Waving at her and stepping into the elevator. You made your way to yours and James room, opening it, surprised to see him sitting at his desk.

Usually he was gone whenever you returned from whatever you were doing, if he did come back it was only for a second. You ignored him and made your way to the bed and flopped down on your back, feeling the sheets. You wonder if he ever brought her back here, using his suite to woo her, or something. You heard him stand up, making his way over to you to tower over you as he studied your drunken state. "My beloved, were you at the bar?"

You pretended to think, "why yes, James, twas at the bar. Where else would I go?" He studied you once more, you both knew that you only drank whenever you were upset. But he decided not to say anything and sat next to you, "Is something the matter? You've been shaking me off lately." You thought of his question, yes, yes there is a problem, you're cheating on me, so I'm drinking to not think about it. "No, not at all. All is swell."

You giggled to yourself as you kicked your shoes off, knowing your answer was agitating him. "Who were you with at the bar?" You stilled, although you weren't doing anything wrong, the way he asked you bothered you. His tone was stern, and you knew if you looked at him, he would have his souless stare. There would be no use in lying, he had eyes everywhere, but he wouldn't really watch over you.

Suddenly sober, you asked, "what do you mean?" "You know what I mean." "No, James, I do not, elaborate." "I saw you at the bar with someone. A strange looking man to be exact." "He's not strange, and why are you watching me?"

The question made James falter and he seemed to be thinking, "well, you being curt earlier had me worried so I went to see what you were doing." "Oh my god, you stalked me." "No, I wasn't stalking you, I was just checking to see if you were alright and safe." "That's what a stalker would say." "No matter that, what were you doing with him?"

"Drinking, I was alone, and he randomly showed up and talked to me, we're drinking buddies now." "Well quit it." You sat up with him, scooting away from him as you glared at him. He was avoiding your gaze, but he looked equally frustrated with you as you were with him. "Quit what exactly, James? Drinking with someone? You do it all the time, why can't I?"

"It's different." "How is it different, James? Hm? Am I only supposed to drink with you now? I want you to know how unfair that is." He flicked his glare toward you but kept his temper, "It's business matters that's why, and he was flirting with you!" "No he wasn't! You know what I can't with you, I am tired." You weren't, but you needed to get your point across, "we can talk about this tomorrow."

James looked as if he was going to protest but held his tongue watching you curl away from him on the bed. Not bothering to change, his expression saddened as he laid down beside you. Not changing, either, he faced away from you on the bed. You felt bad for having him worried, but you wanted him to feel how you’ve felt for the past months. "Goodnight James, I love you."

There was no response, only a huff, and with that you closed your eyes as tears began to fall. The feeling of your failed marriage finally hitting you and James secluded life from you. Maybe Kai could help you tomorrow, you felt comfort with the stranger as you thought of tomorrow. You still silently cried because you could feel the remaining love that bloomed for James, no matter what. What you didn't know was James could feel you crying next to him, but his pride held him back from saying anything.

As he finally felt you fall to rest, he sat up and stared down at your sleeping figure, holding empathy and guilt. He knew he had no right to be upset with who you were talking to. The guilt soon finally hit as he curled himself next to you, recalling all the times he blew you off to be with someone else. The times he would lay with her because of her beauty, but your warmth was different from hers, he felt more safe and secure, but he was in too deep.

"Goodnight dearest, I love you too."

..............................................................................................................................

- Had to make a story with both of my favorites - Possibly going to make more parts (I'm lying) - Not proofread in any way - The titles not a song, just a creative saying I saw

Hope you enjoyed and if you have any requests or questions please dm!

[zandiiangelspit]

A Greater Memory Of You // Leon x Ashley

A simple seek and secure mission that had become a well of memories, haunting and traumatic but there was still some light in the form of golden hair and baby blue eyes. A rosy smile that kept him sane and grounded through the entire ordeal, made it bearable and something to fight for.

Who knew even during the worst week of your life could you find something so warm and beautiful. Who knew you could find home in a person.

It had been months since the events in Spain, or maybe longer as time began to bleed together. With the mission complete and over, life had returned to normal, or what little normality it seemed to hold these days.

A simple seek and secure mission that had become a well of memories, haunting and traumatic but there was still some light in the form of golden hair and baby blue eyes. A rosy smile that kept him sane and grounded through the entire ordeal, made it bearable and something to fight for.

Who knew even during the worst week of your life could you find something so warm and beautiful. Who knew you could find home in a person.

But now she was home, safe, never to endure such horrors again. Out of harm's way. Returned to her family and was secured from the outside world. It was unlikely she’d ever be alone again, always escorted by her security detail, kept well beyond arm's length for the rest of her life.

He often found himself looking back at the photo of her, once a piece of evidence now a momento he hadn’t the heart to hand in and get rid of. To see her smile again was bitter sweet. It brought him joy but each time the photo reminded him how he’d never see her again. It had never crossed his mind, especially after growing so fond of her, that the possibility of never seeing her once she returned home.

After spending every waking hour with her in mind, having her so close and beside him, learning more about her unbridled spirit and her captivating enthusiasm, to never see it again felt like a piece of him was now missing.

Something about her lifted his spirits, she was everything he never knew he needed. Sure, he has saved people before, stayed in contact with them and felt the relief of a life saved. But Ashley… he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Pining for her.

A knock at the door drew him from his spiral of plaguing thoughts, snapping him out of the daze he often found himself in. Tucking the photo back into his wallet he heaved himself from the chair at his desk.

To his pleasant surprise it was the welcome familiar face of Claire at his door. One of the few people who seemed to pull him back on his feet. Never judging him for taking longer than he needed, knowing the horrors that haunted him as well. Maybe too well, her own experiences are like a creeping shadow on her own mind that she could never fully shake off. She just had a better way of hiding it.

“Hey,” she started, smiling the best she could while seeing the lost look in his eyes, knowing how distant he seemed to be, especially lately, “I know you’re still recovering and taking your time but I thought I’d bring you this..” Offered out to him was a large white box, neatly wrapped with twine and a brown paper envelope tucked in with it.

Furrowing his brow, he looked to Claire with some hesitation, her smile never faltering as she offered it out again to him. “Some M.I.B. looking guy handed it over to me yesterday, so I figured I’d give it to you directly before it gathers dust.”

“Huh, some gift basket ‘thank you’ I see,” he scoffed, taking the box and looking over the envelope for the way his name was written. His eyes softened and his heart nearly skipped a beat. It was handwritten, not typed. Just his first name, no full formal surname or title copied and pasted from a template.

“Oh yeah, sure. Probably some nice soaps or fancy cheese.” She chuckled, stuffing her hands back into her jacket away from the cold. “You get used to it..” Noticing the bewildered look on his face, she smiled to herself. Sure he was stronger and tougher now, but he was still that tender young hopeful man beneath the hardened exterior she had first met.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Claire announced, turning on a heel to leave the porch, knowing well Leon was now distracted. “Take care of yourself, Leon.”

Pulling himself away from the box, she had already taken her leave, looking up just in time to see her wave from the car as she pulled away. His eyes lingered until she was gone from view, dropping his eyes back to the box as he went back inside the apartment.

Setting the box down at his desk, he carefully pulled at the twine string, admiring the bow lovingly placed in the centre. Removing the envelope he studied his name again, a knot twisting in his stomach as he tentatively opened it. The paper inside was pretty and pastel, a border of floral filigree along the edges to frame the delicate handwriting inside. His heart nearly stopping as his eyes scanned the first few words,

“My dear Leon,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you’re happy and safe.

I could never find the words to truly thank you for saving me. Your kindness and devotion mean the world to me.

You mean the world to me.

I miss you…

Thank you again…

Maybe one day we’ll see each other again, I hope every day that we do.

Love,

Ashley

P.S. I hope this fits you. I decided this colour would suit you best, as your loyal stylist.”

He read over the letter a few times, subconsciously sat against the back of the couch, unable to pull himself away from the gift. His eyes kept going back to her name, the way he could see her perfectly even in the way she writes. There was a smile on his lips he hadn’t felt in weeks, not since the last time he saw her. His heart ached and chest grew tight, reading again the last few lines.

“I miss you too,” he quietly murmured to himself in the cold emptiness of his lonely apartment.

Standing up he moved to the box again, gently setting down the letter and lifting off the lid to reveal the tissue wrapped gift inside. Unfolding the soft orange paper, his smile grew and he let out an airy laugh.

Neatly pressed inside was a leather bomber jacket, near identical to his previous one now lost to an abandoned village in Spain. It was cleanly made, fresh and new. The fresh smell of leather and cotton filled the air with a faint scent of perfume. Her perfume. Clearly she had handled it before carefully packing it away, neatly wrapping it herself.

Pulling it out he looked it over adoringly. The lining was tidy and the sheepskin lined collar was soft to the touch. The leather was smooth and expertly tailored, a burnt umber collar with matching cream lining. The buckles were the same, all shiny and fresh, polished to match the brass colour zips.

Unzipping the front, he noticed it had one additional element, a small label beneath its patch of authenticity, a golden colour with dusky purple embroidered writing, adorned with a small heart.

‘My hero, love Ashley’.

His fingers gently brushed over the embroidery, too stunned by the immense care and love she had put into a gift just for him. The fact she has remembered such an insignificant fact about him, something so throw away and trivial in comparison to the greater things at stake.

~

He had briefly mentioned about his jacket while they took a breather one night, gathering their energy to continue through the castle they had unfortunately found themselves.

‘I’d offer you my jacket, however, it seems one of our unwelcome guests has taken a shine to it’. Leon signed, frustrated he couldn’t offer Ashley more comfort from the cold, especially since the rain had picked up and soaked them both.

‘It’s okay, I can manage,’ she smiled, trying her best not to show her trembling body or chattering teeth. Even with her jacket and adrenaline the chill has seemed through to her bones. ‘Could you not get it back?’

He sighed, checking his ammo count for a second time, ‘I would if I could, however I don’t fancy it now it’s burned and covered in gore. Don’t think it’d suit me.’

His smile was sarcastic as he loaded up another mag, her eyes following his hands then back to his face when she realised the jacket was no more. The explosion from his precise aim to a tanker earlier had consumed it along with the hoard they had been escaping.

‘Oh’ she frowned, ‘that sucks…’

‘Yeah, I loved that jacket. Got it with my first paycheque. A long time ago now…’ snapping the mag back into his pistol, he shrugged, ‘anyway, let’s get going. Got more important things to worry about than my choice in fashion.’

‘I’ll get you a new one, we’ll go on a shopping trip when we get home!’

He chuckled, meeting her hopeful expression with a raised brow. ‘A shopping trip? You got it. You can be my stylist.’

Ashley nodded enthusiastically, ‘yes! I mean, who doesn’t love clothes shopping?’

‘I’d happily watch paint dry with you over this hell any day.’ Her expression faltered, a soft flush across her face as she reached for his offered hand to her. Smiling up at him, she nodded shyly as she squeezed his hand, unable to respond to his remark with any kind of composure. It was endearing, how quickly she could go from level headed and confident to shy and hesitant.

Pulling her close to him, Leon smiled, raising her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. ‘But first, let’s get you home and out of the cold.’

~

Raising the jacket to his lips, he pressed his lips to the label, closing his eyes to savour the scent of her on the leather before it faded. Inhaling deeply then slowly releasing. His shoulders relaxed as he looked down onto it again, unable to stop himself from smiling, even though his heart was aching.

“Thank you. Ashley…”

Pulling it on, adjusting the collar and checking the cuffs, he shook his head to himself, impressed with just how perfectly it fit. Of course it did. Ashley has made sure it would. Even without a tape measure and reference, she knew fashion when she saw it. It was clear from her own choice of clothes, expensive and high end, neat and designer. She knew what she was looking for even from a brief summary and just by looking at him. Ashley knew his taste better than he did.

Glancing at the reflection of himself in the glass of the cabinet beside him, admiring the colour again, he noticed it would have matched the colour of her own clothes, the rich orange of her blaser. Ever thoughtful with a keen eye for the little things.

He now had a piece of her with him, not just a crumpled faded photo to remember her by, nor distant memories corrupted by nightmares. Just the simple gift of her remembering him, thinking of him, and missing him too.

Maybe one day they’d meet again and maybe he could return a greater gift to her. Though nothing would be a greater gift than to see her golden smile again.

[stellocchia]

I can't stop thinking about my boys from The Light Side of the Moon so you guys get some headcanons for them.

Nightmare:

As an immortal, he doesn't need to eat but does so anyway to set an example for his idiots because half of them are terrible at taking care of themselves

Was born as a mortal in his original AU and ascended to godhood after eating all the black apples from the tree of feelings

Technically doesn't need to sleep, but he sucks at saying no to Killer when the guy tells him to do something. Besides, while he would be able to live and have access to his magic without sleep, it does give him more energy

Killer:

Technically not a Sans. Or, well, not only. He was born as Chara's and Sans' souls fully fused (after they'd already reset a few times themselves). He does have the memories from both of them but feels a sort of detachment from them since he didn't really exist at the time

Non-binary. Mostly uses he/him by habit, but is honestly fine with any pronouns. This is a result of Chara being agender and Sans not having the strongest gender identity. Killer is just a gender whatever

Better at taking care of others than himself. Between the henchmen, he's the most observant and, as a result of that, he tends to pick up easily on what people need. Due to his soul problems though, he's not in touch enough with his emotions to do that for himself

His soul has remained scarred from Nightmare's constant use of his aura on him toward the start. He no longer has a phase 1. He's usually always stuck in phase 2, though his emotions are there, though they are very muted compared to everyone else

Dust:

Technically the second Dusttale Sans to work for Nightmare. The first left to the Omega Timeline after the Big Incident. He's aware of this and can get insecure about it at times, but mostly he's over it

The Phantom Papyrus he sees is indeed actually his Papyrus, but he's kinda like Flowey was to Asriel. Because his dust was spread over his scarf and by wearing it all the time, Dust's determination infused it giving him a sort of second life. No one else can see him though

Dust does not have lv20 anymore, Nightmare had to absorb some from him to keep him from melting because, unlike with Killer, his soul is still a full monster soul. He cannot handle such high lv. Which is also why he doesn't kill anymore

Horror:

Technically immortal but purely because he's dead already. He can live without ever eating (and did so back in his AU) but he can feel hunger pains and they're agonizing

Also the second Horrortale Sans to be a part of Nightmare's gang, but he isn't really bothered by it. He has met Axe before (the previous Horrortale Sans) and they get along fine enough

Adores his baby brother Sugar. They see each other at least once a week, either because he visits his brother or because his brother stays over at the castle. He would do quite literally anything for his bro. Including providing food for all of Snowdin

He has quite a bit of chronic pain due to the hole in his skull and his one non-functioning eye light. He takes some seriously strong pain killers daily to deal with it (Killer also takes ADHD meds, and Dust takes some lv balancers to help with their own issues)

Rose:

Literally the only one in the gang who had a good relationship with his Father. His father used to call him Starlight and now he has a kitten by the same name in his dad's honor

The natural chill from Nightmare's presence makes it so he doesn't experience the effects of the constant heat those from Underlust have to deal with while he's near his Boss or at the castle

Also nonbinary in the sense that he's very comfortable with pretty much anything. Very into gender fuckery. Mostly a he/she person

Also adores his baby brother, but also his baby brother's husband. Papyrus and Metatton come by the castle to visit often enough (though less so than Sugar) and he visits them at least once every couple of weeks

Red:

Also struggles with chronic pain both due to the broken eye socket he has to deal with and because of the scars on his souls (he has no more cracks in it thanks to Rose's soul balm, but the scars remain, and he does have only 0.5hp because of it), though he mostly deals with it with copious amounts of marijuana

He used to have a phobia of cats, but he kinda got over it in time due to living with Rose and Killer, local crazy cat ladies. He still will not pet them or pick them up, but he can coexist in the same room as them

He surprisingly had the second best relationship with his dad in the group, though that just means that he and his father mostly just mutually ignored each other. They were on neutral terms before Gaster fell into the Core. He never mourned him. He does however have the worst relationship with his brother as his Papyrus wasn't good to him. He's the reason for the hole in his skull where his eye socket should be

He was found originally by Error, not Nightmare. And it was while Error was there to steal some chocolate. Error figured the little guy looked adoptable enough for Nightmare and called him over. He was right

Cross:

Autistic boyo. He looks serious all the time mostly because he's starting to figure out how his face should look at any moment and conversations tend to move too fast for him to adapt to it

Worked for Nightmare for a while while Nightmare was still an ass. That was during the X event. He then moved onto working for the Star Sanses for a long time, though eventually he got fed up with them. (Though he lasted the longest of any third member). He then wandered about a while aimlessly until he met with Killer again and Killer promised things had changed

He and Epic are the Autism and ADHD besties. Whenever they're together they have negative braincells. They are together often. The castle has suffered because of it, but Nightmare would never say anything about it because he can see how important the friendship is for Cross

XChara is very much still there and sharing soul space with him. Though most of the time he hangs back and lets Cross control the body. They get along... relatively well. Though XChara loves to annoy him

Blue:

He greatly overestimates how good he is at cooking. His tacos are good, but, aside from that, he can only do very basic things without burning them or making them otherwise inedible

He's more of a dog person than a cat person, but he still likes both. Doesn't mind that the castle is a cat heaven. The only animals he can't stand are rabbits though. Because in his universe, instead of the pesky dog stealing his attacks it was a small fluffy white rabbit

He's the third tallest Sans in the gang, with Horror being the tallest and Rose being the second tallest. This is a significant source of confidence for him. It's one of the few wins the poor guy gets

Despite his and Stretch's relationship being rocky at the moment, he does deeply adore his baby brother and would do anything for him. For one thing, despite having left the lab at the same time, he taught himself how to read first, entirely on his own, just so he could help Stretch with it

[tumblingxelian]

I’ve made it clear I hate those HCs that have Jason struggling with science, technology or basically anything intellectual given the varying shades of classism and character assassination going on.

I do however think it would be very funny for him to see which characters are dumb enough to fall for such a ruse.

People who don’t fall for it, least to most:

Cassandra can tell when people are lying and doesn’t like or trust Jason and is newer to this stuff than him in some cases. She’d probably punch him if he tried it and so he doesn't. 

Stephanie and Jason have a pretty decent regard for one another and Stephanie doesn’t trust faux male incompetency like that given her dad. So her response would be, some variation of “Perish/Don’t fuck with me.”

Dick is the next least likely, he rarely doubted Jason’s intelligence, just his intent and they have that whole annoying sibling thing going on. So it’d be like, “I’m not falling for this Jason.”

Duke and Jason have a good relationship, Jason even mentored Duke a little so there’s respect. Duke’s better nature/relationship is the only thing that slots him into fourth place with, “You can’t? Wait a second, no, not falling for this.”

Barbara is last on the list, she tutored Jason, but did have a mixed memory of him and can have a bit of an ego at times and so assume the worst. It’d basically be, “You’ve got to be shitting me, all right I’ll... Wait, you are shitting me.”

Note: Babsgirl would 100% fall for it, unlike Oracle.

People who fall for it the most, least to most:

Damian doesn’t think highly of Jason but he does think highly of his mother who mentored Jason, but also thinks highly of himself. He’d fall for it for longer than you’d expect, give up ‘helping/ in frustrating only to realize when rooting around in the fridge that Jason was screwing with him.

Bruce’s memory of Jason is wildly inaccurate, but he can also often default to assuming the worst and doesn’t always trust Jason. Still, his mixed memories and complicated dad feels would ensure he sticks out trying to ‘teach’ Jason something very basic for a long ass time and then he’d be left doubting whether it was necessary.

Tim has near zero respect for Jason and loves being ‘right’ and ‘the smart one’. As a result it would only be his dislike of Jason that would eventually, after anywhere from days to weeks before he realizes Jason was fucking with him. If someone told him however he’d double down on assuming Jason can’t do it cos he can’t have been fooled.

Alfred would just do the task and blithely assume incompetence, or get someone else to do it and blithely assume incompetence and not really think on it more deeply than that, its the only reason he’s below Tim.

[pandor-uhhh]

Wounds left behind

Tsu’tey x na’vi reader

Warnings: mentions of being shot, descriptions of pain, blood and burns, crying, Tsu’tey acting a little OOC, not proofread but it will be later

Description: during the battle against the sky demons you were shot, you lived but the wounds left behind make it difficult to sleep. But Tsu’tey is there to offer comfort

Notes: This was supposed to go in a different direction, but I’m not unhappy about this. I'm working on Grieving Apologies 3 tonight and it'll either be posted tomorrow night or tonight

The thing most people won’t tell you about getting shot, is it’s more than just the bullet going through you. On top of a piece of metal ripping through your body, it also burns, it burns like hell. Since The People didn’t use bullets until the war, you had no way of knowing this.

Mo’at had treated you to the best of her ability, and you were grateful to her and Eywa that you lived unlike some of your brothers and sisters, but the pain was pure hell.

You tossed and turned at night, unable to get comfortable. The bandages offered little comfort, every night it was as if you were reliving the burning pieces of metal tear through your body.

You tried not to show it on the outside, especially not to Tsu’tey. You were a good warrior, and an amazing hunter before the war. You didn’t want this to change the way he saw you, you felt like if you didn’t prove yourself everyday, why were you even there?

You’d push yourself over the edge, and then some. The amount of times you were brought back to Mo’at by one of your brothers or sisters because a wound had reopened, or because you gave yourself a new one, made her less than pleased. She would scold you like a child, as did Tsu'tey.

One day he plucked you off your ikran before you left to go hunting alone, he threw you over his shoulder and took you back to your tent. You hissed and hit his back, telling him you were fine. But he put you on your bed “do not move from this tent” he told you, and then left.

You had tried to sneak out only to be caught by other warriors. Eventually you laid down on your bed with a huff, you hadn’t been in this tent in weeks. You were either out hunting or you were getting patched up by Mo’at. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself peace, at least that's what you told yourself.

Your dreams had been replaced with nightmares, only they were more so memories. You were there again, watching those around you die, you felt the bullets hit you all over again, you felt your body hit the ground.

You could hear the sky demon’s cheers when he shot you down, you could hear the crying and screaming, and the other shots going off in the distance.

But then you felt a hand on your cheek, and everything stopped, you were no longer on a battlefield. You were sitting in the forest, surrounded by plants. No death, no guns, no fire. You heard the rustling of leaves, you turned your head to see Tsu’tey. You gave him a smirk, assuming he was here to drag you back to Mo’at or back to your tent, but he never did. He sat by your side and placed his hand on your stomach, you had just noticed what you were wearing.

You were in a chest covering that had flowers on it, some glowed, some were bright with dark spots on them, some small while others large. You smiled, but soon realized you didn’t own anything like this. “I don’t think this is-” you were cut off by Tsu’tey shushing you.

You shrugged, but saw his hand was still on you. Most of your wounds had scarred over, at least the ones you didn’t manage to reopen. “They’re really not that bad, sometimes I forget they’re even-” you yelped in pain and pulled back when he had run his fingers over them.

Tsu’tey looked you in the eyes “I should have been there, I’m sorry”. You sighed “this isn’t your fault Tsu’tey, I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve…been” you hesitated as Tsu’tey brought his hand up to brush stray hairs from your face. 

His hand stopped, resting on your cheek, you brought your hand up to meet his. His eyes scanned over your body, as if he was reading you like a book. He moved his hand and you let go of his hand, his eyes fixated on your lips.

“I see you, Tsu’tey” you spoke up, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth. “I mean I see that you-” you tried to backpedal, but he put his hand behind your head to pull you into a kiss. You put your hand on his chest, he pushed you on your back.

You gasped as your eyes shot open, realizing it was all just a dream. ‘That was wrong’ you thought ‘he’s probably still upset about Neytiri and Jake, what would possess you to think of such a thing?’ You scolded yourself.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” Your head shot up and saw Tsu’tey standing by the entrance to your tent. Eclipse had come and the only light was the little that peeked through the cover of your tent from the fires outside. And there was Tsu’tey, with small bioluminescent freckles on his chest. 

In the dark he looked like a piece of a constellation had broken off and come down in the form of a handsome, strong, man. Ewya, you wish he would just- ‘stop!’ You thought, shaking your head as an attempt to clear your mind.

“No… I didn’t know I did that” you answered, not being able to meet his eyes. He made his way over to your bed, kneeling down in front of you. 

“You also cry” he sighed, “you are haunted by the war, aren’t you?” You look up to meet his eye “I am too” he added. 

“I came in to try to wake you, only when I placed my hand on your head, you stopped crying” he placed his hand to your cheek, and rubbed his thumb over it “like this…” you melted into the feeling for a moment, closing your eyes and leaning into his hand. Yes, yes that is what pulled you out of the nightmare. You reopened your eyes to see his face closer to yours, you gasped, you thought about pulling back.

‘This is wrong’ but you couldn’t pull away, “you do not have to suffer alone” he told you. You felt tears slip down your face, he wiped them away gently. He treated you like you were a small flower, like if he moved too fast or pushed too hard you’d fall apart. “I see you, (y/n)” your eyes went wide and you smiled, “I see you, Tsu’tey” he leaned forward capturing your lips in a kiss. You leaned into the kiss further, he pulled you onto the floor with him so you could be in his lap.

You two eventually broke away from the kiss, you leaned your head on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, smiling softly. He put his hand over your bandages, and you put your hand over his scars. They still hurt like hell, but from then on you knew you had someone to comfort you through the wounds left behind.

Thank you for reading (��ｖ＾)