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callsigndragon · 2 years ago

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Tasting the Ashes | Ch. 22: Nightmares fade, memories don't ✍️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, doctors, PAST ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP (with all the bad things that this implies), mentions of death, plane accident, mentions of food, allusion of Rooster's trauma in Afghanistan (nothing too deep, yet)

Friendly reminder that before Ash's call sign was changed to Ashes, she was called Nova.

A/N: Am i coming back? Idk. I just missed writing and posting things so here's this small thing for y'all

Follow @meigalibrary for updates!

Masterlist on pinned

The week passed by in the blink of an eye. Rooster had been preparing every small detail, everything had to be perfect. This was Ash's last Thanksgiving without children. Next year, she will be a mom, she will start her own traditions, she’ll make her own dinner with her family, and Rooster wanted to make sure that she had, at least, one perfect Thanksgiving to use as a reference.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” She asked him the day before, after they came back from the doctor’s appointment.

“You mean what are we doing.” Rooster corrected her, opening the door and helping her climb inside the Bronco. “I’m staying with you, I told ya.”

Ash smiled a little, the corner of her mouth curving into a shy smile, as if she couldn't believe how much attention she was getting. “What are we doing, then?”

“Jake told me that he wanted to spend his first Thanksgiving as a dad with the whole Mitchell family. And that includes you. It was going to be a surprise, but you had to ask.”

Ash snorted, rubbing her belly. “You don’t know how to keep secrets.”

Bradley looked at her in disbelief, his hand over his chest as he feigned hurt. “I do know how to keep secrets.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows raised, and lips curled in a smirk. “You told me that Jake was going to propose to Red.”

“I was so excited about it that I had to share the news with you! She’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“Well, yes. But it wasn't your secret, and you shouldn't be telling everyone!"

The pilot stayed quiet, facing the road, and turned the engine on. Ash has been around Rooster long enough to know that when he stays quiet like that, he’s done something he shouldn’t have. “Oh my god. You told the guys.”

“How do you know?!”

“Brad, you have guilt written all over your face. And if some of the girls knew, they would have told me.” She explained, laughing at Rooster’s expression. It was when she laughed that Rooster knew. He knew deep inside his soul that this girl was the one he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. Rooster knew that if there was life after this one, he would find her somehow and fall in love with her again.

She was all he had been looking for. And yet, everything he couldn’t have.

“What do you want for dinner?” He asked, savoring the small bliss of domesticity.

“Pizza?”

“Pizza it is.”

"Nova, I can't restart the engine." The male says, fear embedded in his voice, grasping it with its crutches. It's unusual, actually. You're usually the one who's scared in this relationship.

You feel the world spinning, circling around you in a blur. It feels like being on a merry-go-round, swiveling on a plastic horse. But this isn't a carnival ride. This horse doesn't stop moving, it increases its speed every second. This horse doesn't make you smile, and you don’t call out your mom so she can take a picture.

This horse makes you cry and hope to not reunite with your mom in heaven.

You reach for the ejection handles, an incredibly easy task if you weren't spinning around like a falling leaf. You manage to grab the handles, tugging on them with all you've got. But it doesn't work.

You're still trapped inside the plane.

"Nova?"

"Bull, it’s not working. I can't pull out."

"What? Try again, idiot!"

"Steve, I've been trying over and over, and it doesn't work!" You cry out, repeating the same movement over and over again, but it's useless. You're going to crash. You'll burn in.

You feel a pain in your belly. You rub it, feeling a bump that shouldn't be there. Looking down, you see your baby bump and feel your two babies kicking with their small feet. Are they scared too? Are they aware that they're going to die before they're even born?

No. This can't be happening. You aren’t supposed to be here. You aren’t supposed to fly while pregnant. What are you doing here? Why are you risking your babies’ lives?

How can you save your kids when you can’t save yourself?

“We’re gonna crash!”

That’s not Steve’s voice. That’s Bradley’s.

Are you going to lose everything?

You scream even louder, as if your voice has the power to stop time and save you, your children, and the pilot in the front seat.

A hand touches your face, it’s big, cold, and calloused. It’s comforting.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

You jolt awake, with a sore throat and tired muscles. It was all a dream. You’re okay. The babies are okay. Bradley, who is sitting in front of you with a frown and a worried expression, is also okay.

“Are you here with me?” He asks, voice tight and eyes darting over your body, as if looking for any sign of harm.

You nod, sitting up in bed while biting your lip. “Did I wake you up again?”

“I don’t care about that,” He says, caressing your leg over the covers. “Look Ash, I’ve tried to wave it off, but I can’t ignore it anymore. For the last few weeks, you have woken up in the middle of the night, screaming, like someone was skinning you alive. I need to know what's happening.” Bradley demands with a soft voice, not wanting to impose but making clear that he deserves to know the reason why he has been running to your room for the last days, scared that your water broke and you were having contractions or something like that.

He really deserves to know.

"I dream about my accident. Every single night. It’s not a dream, just a nightmare playing on loop over and over again. Even though this time was slightly different, it was even more terrifying." You explain in a weak voice, wincing at the frail creature you've become.

"The accident where you got your new call sign?"

"Yeah. There were a lot of people who thought that I killed Bull." Your confession makes Bradley clench his jaw. Just the thought of people pointing fingers at you and calling you a murderer makes him sick. You’re not a murderer. Anyone with two eyes could see that.

“I heard that the ejection system failed.”

“Yeah, it didn’t work. Steve tried to land on a snowy plain, thinking that the snow would soften the impact…” You start, the images flooding your mind and making your body tremble. “And the worst part is that I’m glad he died.”

Bradley takes a deep breath, and you can see in his eyes, lit up by the small lamp on the bedside table, that he’s pondering whether to ask or not about the meaning behind your words. “Why?”

“He was my partner. We had been dating for over a year, and everything was good at first, but... he became obsessed. He thought I was cheating on him. He wanted to know where I was all the time, who I talked with, and when I got home…” You don’t know that you’re crying until Rooster cleans your face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Oh shit, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He sits closer, rubbing a hand over your arm. “Want to stop talking about this and go back to sleep?”

“No, no, no. I need you to know that I’m not a murderer.” You insist, grabbing his hand, and he nods reassuringly. "I figured if I moved with him, he'd stop being so... controlling."

“It got worse?”

“Ten times worse. He checked my phone every night and said horrible things about me in front of the other members of the team… It became too much."

"This might be the most stupid question I could ask right now, but why didn't you leave him?"

You turn your head away from him, both ashamed and scared of his reaction. You don't want to be an idiot in his eyes. Not because you care about his opinion. Well, that too. But he's the biological father of these babies, and if he wanted, he could take them away in the blink of an eye if he thought for a second that you're not sane enough to raise a baby, let alone two.

He's not like that. He wants to help you, not destroy you.

"He made me believe that I needed him. Like I was nothing without him. I became…"

"Dependent."

"Yeah. I thought that if I was good enough, he wouldn't be angry with me again. He wouldn't yell, he wouldn't throw my things away."

The wheels in Bradley's head are turning so quickly that you can almost hear them. He doesn't even blink for a split second. "You really thought his behavior was your fault."

"Nobody knows how these things can mess with your head until you find yourself in that situation." Bradley's fingers caress your cheek, not sure if he is wiping away a tear or just providing the necessary physical comfort for both of you.

"Being glad of your abuser's death doesn't mean you're a bad person, Hen. You're just glad your suffering is over."

"You think so?" You whimper, his words breaking a wall around your soul—a wall built long ago.

"I know so. I kinda… know what you went through. Had some similar experience."

"Penny… told me a bit of Afghanistan." You confess, feeling guilty about knowing his secret. "But she was not gossiping! She wanted me to know that you might have nightmares.”

It’s not entirely true, but he doesn’t need to know what kind of conversations you have with the girls.

“Nightmares end when you wake up. Memories are still there, but they can’t hurt you anymore.” His voice is empty and monotone. These words sound like something he has said hundreds of times. A mantra.

Something that he himself can’t fully believe, but repeats day after day, waiting for it to actually mean something.

“They hurt you, right?”

Bradley sighs, letting his upper body fall into the mattress. “Sometimes it feels like this world takes more strength than it gave me.”

“Want to talk about it?” You offer, your hand moving itself to lock in his hair, as if your limbs had a will of their own, as if your body didn’t need to ask your brain to function.

He closes his eyes, a small smile curving the right side of his mouth. “Not today. I don’t want you to have more nightmares. You should sleep, tomorrow is a big day.”

“Yeah, it is…” You watch him stand up from the bed, kiss your head softly, and walk to the door. “Bradley.”

“Yeah?” He says, turning around before leaving the room.

“Did you call me Hen?” You inquire, trying not to laugh.

He frowns, looking at the floor, mentally going over the conversation you just had. “Did I?” You nod, and he snorts. “The guys have been calling you Mama Hen for a while. It stuck with me, apparently.”

“It’s… better than Ash.”

“Be careful; you allow me to call you Hen, and that makes you an official member of the Bradshaw family. We’re all birds.” He warns you with a teasing smile.

“Oh, I can tell by the middle names you got for the babies.” You retort, lying down and covering yourself with the blankets.

“Hey, they’re cool! I know a few people that will cry when they find out about them.” He sighs and looks at you with the softest smile someone has ever given you. How can a man who has gone through so much be so gentle and caring?

How can that poor tortured soul be taking care of three human beings when he’s the one that should be taken care of?

“I… I want you to know that you can always rely on me. We’re parents of these babies, but we’re friends. I’ll be there to listen to whatever you need to say. Even if you just need to rant, I’ll be there.” You state, holding his gaze.

“Thank you, Mama Hen.” The name makes you chuckle and shake your head. “Good night.”

“Good night, Rooster.”

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san-fics · 2 years ago

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Felinette Prompts p.12

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

(Ao3 | Wattpad)

A/N: For those who don't know, KnifeDancer (on Ao3) has written several stories based on the ideas from this collection (amazingly expanding the ideas themselves and capturing my heart), HamAndPineapple304 (on Ao3) also uses these ideas to tease us with short sketches that allow you to peek into the story and want more, and I know Neakco (on Ao3) used one (??) of the ideas, adapting it for the Maribat fandom.

So if you're interested, you could check out these authors.

If I don't know about anyone else's works, you can point it out to me so I could mention you here.

Thank you!

____________________

Akuma Shenanigans

Stay With Me

Felix is hit by an Akuma that amplifies people’s greatest fears, which, in his case, turns out to be that Marinette will disappear and he won’t see her again. Felix refuses to let her go anywhere, and seeing the genuine horror on his face, Marinette doesn’t know how to leave him to transform and fight the Akuma.

Love Magnet

Marinette was hit by an Akuma, forcing her to stay in physical proximity to the object of her affections, which had changed some time ago. She can’t move far enough to transform while keeping her secret, but what’s even worse is that every time she gets closer to Felix, the distance she can get away from him shrinks...

Gost Life

Felix is hit by an Akuma and is sent in a ghost-like state to a world where he never existed. For some reason, there is neither Adrien nor Chat Noir in this world, and Ladybug is fighting a completely different enemy too. But Felix understands that she is still his only chance to return home, if only he found the way to let her know that he is here…

Random

‘Enchanted’

Felix falls asleep with the comic book he read before going to bed on his chest, and the next day, the comic book characters Ladybug and Chat Noir enter the real world. Felix doesn’t know what to do with them because they are always eager to save someone, and he has to take them with him to his office and introduce them to his business partner – Kagami, who, like him, doesn’t believe in feelings and emotions, and therefore they work so well together. But something about this Ladybug makes Felix reconsider his outlook on life...

The Right Outcome Of Events

Marinette and Felix live the events of their lives over and over again, knowing when and which Akuma and other events will happen in advance, up to the final battle with Hawk Moth, which ends with the victory of the villain and everything restarts from the day of Stone Heart. But in this cycle, Felix is tired of being an observer who has already figured everything out. He meets with Master Fu before he gives the Black Cat miraculous to Adrien and persuades him to give the amulet to him, explaining the situation with the collapse in the end of the whole story and how many times it repeated itself. Master Fu agrees, and the new cycle of events turns out to be completely different...

Morly Gray

Marinette decides that she is tired of the same thing and begins to push the authorities as Ladybug to turn Paris into an emotionless colony so that people don’t react to Akumas and they stop appearing. She goes so deep into her apathetic-depressive indifference to people that she ceases to notice that the world around her is losing humanity in her new regime. Until someone she considered the most indifferent and morally gray reminds her that emotions have the right to exist.

Misunderstandings

Apparent But Not Real

Nino comes to Marinette broken and complains that his girlfriend is cheating on him. He repeatedly saw them sitting very close together when they thought no one could see them, and he saw messages from Felix pop up on the screen of Alya’s phone, which she immediately hid. Marinette is upset for her friends, but even more so for herself, because it seemed to her that she and Felix were about to move into a new category from their friendship. And of course it has nothing to do with the upcoming carnival she hoped they would attend as a couple…

Rival’s Help

During a school trip, Felix sees Adrien going to Marinette’s hotel room in the evening and staying there for a suspicious length of time. He is convinced that the two have gotten together, despite the fact that Marinette told him many times during their long conversations that she was over his cousin. Felix plunges into suffering over his feelings, which turned out to be non-reciprocal, and the next day, Marinette and he mysteriously find themselves locked in a museum room alone and the girl doesn’t seem at all surprised or worried…

Most Important Question

Alya asks Felix to subtly find out if Marinette likes the necklace in the jewelry store window that her friends are going to give her for her birthday. He and Marinette are pretty close, so Felix does, but when the girl replies not “I like” but “I agree”, he turns around to see that in the window there is no longer the collection of jewelry that was yesterday when he was here with Alya, but a very different collection, namely – a collection of engagement rings. Also, did he just propose to Marinette?.. And… And… Did she say yes?..

___________

Felinette Tag list (ask me to join)

@mochegato

@thepapillonnoir

@snow-leopard-777

@loves-books

@turiankitty

@toodaloo-kangaroo

@readingismyoxygen

@aespades

@starlightshield

@jessigurl-design

@trippingovermyfeet

@apasponsor

@avs17

@fangirlingfanatic

@psychicdelusionwerewolf

@ur-beautiful-when-u-smile

@spicemallow

@kking13

@frieddonutsweets

@miraculous-panic

@ateneagirasol

@its-maemain

@unoriginalmess

@achaoticmess1

@starfire21

@peachayim

@starling218

@iloontjeboontje

@jennifer-rose123

@a-slytherinish-gryffindor

@wegetitethan

@jacimari

@hammalammadamdam

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sincelastsession · 6 months ago

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We need to talk about THE GRIEF CLOSET.

Also shit has been wild.

Dad is supposed to call ya'll tomorrow to schedule.

I think both parents think it's gonna go like past therapy sessions with other therapists.

I'd like it to go well.

I am going to let you drive the family sessions. I would like to discuss a signal or word I can use to let you know if I'm triggered to hell and need to use the restroom to collect myself.

I really do think that my parents need serious help themselves and I don't want to give up after one session trying to learn and grow and have better conversations and restart relationships.

They've done me a world of hurt so I can tell you I will probably not be enjoying myself but I'm going to try my ass off anyway. I'm far too stubborn.

They both do hold a great deal of resentment at me. It will be obvious unless they are masking.

As much as I'd like to just lay into my dad and am spooky about being around him...I need him to be hooked for another session if possible. I'm willing to take his bullshit complaints and valid ones.

My thinking behind this is if he has a good session and agrees to come back (because honestly I can't be around him by myself currently and I hate it)

Like I think if he tells my sister it went well then she will be open to coming in.

Like...he and her imo need anger management, intensive trauma and grief therapy, and to really learn boundaries and how to wake up that emotional intelligence and connect to core self.

They are genuinely miserable and insecure people.

I still love them and people ask me why...I don't know.

It looks to me like their mental illness ate them.

I'd love to also see if the psychiatrist there would consider a consult during a session granted that's possible. I'm not thrilled with my current one other than he's so far keeping me on anxiety meds so I can do my therapy properly without freaking out on you.

He did say xanax would eventually cause me dementia. I wanted to say GOOD I DON'T WANNA REMEMBER SHIT. I'm mad he discounted what else the medication helps me with.

He doesn't like ketamine and had a fit that there was no enough known and he didn't know abt it.

I fear he may be a bit too wacky quacky.

I tried to explain things Dr. Todd taught me while he was alive treating me on a monthly basis.

He told me to try medical weed then had a fit when I asked abt cptsd and auditory hallucinations. I've only had a few in my lifetime. He flipped about medical weed and how it fucks with xyz. Never have I ever had a problem with these meds.

I just thought I heard people talking one day. I stupidly asked him but I did tell him it could have been my loud neighbors.

Medical weed keeps me from having to take pain meds that would damage me worse. I didn't get to tell him I was going to order CBD flower to mix with it because yes it is potent...

I do understand his professional concerns but I think I know my own body and mind far better than he could imagine.

I've been on EVERYTHING. I've tried to show him my pharmaceutical genetics tests. I did Genesight and one from my Geneticist who is still on a warpath and my team to prove a ton of doctors wrong about things. She thinks I have some genetic mutations that are causing so many issues and if we figure out what then it's possible to get treatment for well whatever she finds. I'm thrilled to just know so I can shut my fucking brain up about it and be at peace with the findings.

Also I need you to hear audio I keep forgetting to show you. I need you to understand various things. It's all ugly truths. There's tons I'm ashamed of.

My partner called today and then spent the day letting me submit. I took pictures without my face and showed off more of my body. I need to process my reaction to that. He did nothing but praise me and tell me I was beautiful. It is hard to take a compliment or understand why people love my body that is constantly trying to kill me. I was told fat was bad my whole life. I can't go shopping for clothing without someone to tell me the truth. I did tell him I had a reaction to me pushing my normal limits and he did handle me with care and ask me if I was ok. I can't complain. I do want to be comfortable enough with my nude body to where I could do only fans or something like nude modeling for artists and I'd like to dress more feminine and slutty and wear a crop top and be unbothered by onlookers and ppl who would say things to me to shame me. I've been body shamed while I was on fucking steroids as a kid. I have a roll under my tits that only plastic surgery will remove after weight loss because that's what I look like from being told to "suck it in" I mean I was a child on steroids. My body was never good enough. I don't feel like it's mine. It's not the correct one. I don't feel like I belong in it.

Like I just feel like I'm piloting a Gundam most of the time if that metaphor makes sense.

I'm looking forward to finding out about dissociative stuff.

I don't think my parents understand anything about how much trauma I have and how much time it takes to heal 37 years of it and that that may not be possible. I don't know how to explain ANYTHING to them about cptsd. I'm "using it as an excuse" "holding a grudge" etc

In reality I'm telling them why I am having a response to whatever is happening.

I don't think they understand how it works with the brain. I don't think they understand my ocd adhd or autism. I don't think they believe me or hear me or care. I feel that they're exhausted with me. They are still trying to punish me.

I didn't make them do anything they did to me. I didn't make them feel how they feel. I often get accused of saying they're stupid etc but that's literally just them cherry picking and not actually hearing me or taking me seriously.

I do understand how they wish I was. I'm not that person though. I'm not going to become that person. I'm not an extension of them aside from the genetics.

I'm angry as fuck at all of them. I do very much believe my anger is quite reasonable.

They don't understand that I didn't have a childhood. I did what they thought I wanted or what they wanted. I was people pleasing as soon as I could understand that if I did shit that made them happy then less bad shit would happen.

They're fucked up people.

Maybe I'm batshit for trying.

Maybe you'll see the dead eyes they all have.

My friend's father who was just like mine but an alcoholic died recently. She is going through a grief that I fear I'll experience one day too.

I still don't know how to stop grieving people and pets that died years ago.

I've tried to grieve my dad and sister during no contact. I don't even know how to grieve my mom. She tries then she attacks me like I'm a trainer working with a terribly abused dog.

I think my dad and sister need a very firm "keep your hands and your threats to yourself" talk

To be told by my father that if I called the cops he would call the coroner and tell the coroner that I said I was going to kill myself which I never said and the coroner would believe him over me because I've been in psychwards and he hasn't.

He's used that threat and he's threatened to destroy my property and beat the fuck out of me if I called the cops so at least he got some hits in before they hauled him off.

It's baffling to my friends that also have abusive parents...because their parents look CHILL compared to mine.

My dad bitches about the house being gross but if it was spotless and organized would he be happy? I doubt it. He's very insecure like my sister.

I really don't understand why it's so hard for some people to be vulnerable. I've only seen my father cry once. My mom insulted his dead mother who had literally just died.

I don't know why I care about people who have done nothing but abuse the fuvk out of me.

I really do want to just live my life and I feel very stuck.

They tend to overcomplicate things and think they know best for me. They get insulted and berate me before they hear me out.

They generally have more of an attention span and listen better with professionals.

I am not impressive enough to be heard. I'm not respected. I've been given no respect. I've been given no choices that are really choices. Fuck me if I don't like it.

I still feel every single painful thing that's been said and done to me. The body does keep the score. Fuck that author tho. Book is a good explanation. Guy is a hypocrite.

I've tried to explain all the things to them.

I've tried. Like I said I'm very stubborn or part of me is.

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lqfiles · 6 months ago

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METEORNON LIFE UPDATE WE ARE BACK AFTER 10 DAYS 🗣️‼️

🥁🥁🥁🥁

MY EXAMS ARE OVER 🥳🥳 the universe cheered !! I literally just gave my last exam this morning and it's 3:30pm rn we are so excited (the excitement will last a day until I'm bored)

I spent the day arranging my course material and being productive (felt nice) (because I know I'll rot for the whole break otherwise) anyway I have plans to be a girl (I'm just a girl) and order this really cute tote bag I saw online it was so cool

OTHER THAN THAT OH OH USER LQFILES I WATCHED A REALLY REALLY AMAZING MOVIE idk if you know about it. It's a Japanese movie called even if this love disappears from the world tonight and it's so 🥹🥹🥹🥹 it's so 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 heartbreaking. What if I collapse on the floor and cry. You should watch it ( of course you don't have to) if you're into sad soul shattering stuff (gonna go off a bit here and summarize the premise: there's a girl who has anterograde amnesia which is where your memories don't accumulate. So whenever she wakes up in the morning, she doesn't remember anything about what happened or what she did the previous day and this happens EVERY SINGLE DAY so she basically has to restart her life everyday. She keeps a diary in which she writes about her day every night before sleeping, and she has all these signs on her bedroom walls that basically tell her that she has amnesia and needs to read her diary to get to know about her life every morning. SO LONG STORY SHORT WITHOUT SPOILERS one day a guy comes up to her and fake confesses to her because some guys who were bullying that guy's classmate told him to do it in case he wanted his friend to stop getting bullied. He fake confesses to her and she SAYS YES and then they fake date, but for a while the guy doesn't know she has amnesia and then he finds out and that is where I'm stopping because everything else is like the main main plot)

I YAPPED QUITE A LOT TODAY ‼️☝️

Anyway it's so sad and I'm in love with it

REGARDING PAY THE PRICE THINGS ARE PROGRESSING I THINK HAECHAN LOWKEY CONSIDERS HER A FRIEND AT THIS POINT

I am also in love with renjun's cat stealing agenda and his and jaemin's dynamic they're so funny (OR RATHER YOU ARE SO FUNNY USER LQFILES 🫵)

ALSO WITH THE ANON WHO TALKED ABOUT JAEHYUN BEING OLD 😭😭😭 I AGREE AND I SEE THIS HAPPENING IN REAL LIFE

anyway phew that was a lot (I hope you weren't alarmed by me suddenly yapping) I'll be activeee and interacting now that I'm not busy (!!) MUCH LOVEEE 🌷🌷🤍🤍🤍 I HOPE YOU'RE WELLLL

-☄️

WE FREAKING MISSED YOU OVER HERE BESFF <33

IM SO HAPPY YOUR EXAMS ARE OVER LETS GOOOO 🥳🥳🎉 how did you think they went? i’m sure you did well and i’m happy that you get to rest now ^^ does this mean you’re officially in your summer holidays now or just a smaller break? LMAOOO YOURE SMART FOR KNOWING YOUR HABITS AND DOING SMRH ABOUT IT because i know if that was me i would wait till last minute 😭

THE WAY I WANT TO BUY A TOTE BAG TOO BRUHH it’s so girly core and girlmaxxing and feminine and ughh i just love being a girl..

shatter shoul stuff WELL YES GIVE IT TO ME… i normally don’t watch movies or dramas (when i tell you.. i have not watched ANY classic movie, not even spider-man or mean girls or fuckass MOANA. name a movie and i probably haven’t watched it 😭) but i REALLY wanna start doing so, BUT THAT SOUNDS AMAZINF AS FUCKK WAITT i can already sense the angst and heartbreak from that poor girl i’m already tearing up 😭😭😭 (i’m dramatic) i’ll definitely write it down and try to watch it soon (if you can recommend me where to watch it i would appreciate it.. preferably i pirated website 🙏🏽)

haechan doesn’t HATE her but also doesn’t LIKE her yk? its mostly y/n who just wants him gone while haechan is just playing around at this point lmaoo. i’m glad you like the side characters too and thank yew for calling me funny you’re flatter me anon 😣 just say you wanna kiss me..

NEVER APOLOGISE FOR HEING A YAPPER I LOVE YAPPERS WE YAPPERS ALL NEED TO UNITE, can’t wait to see you again anon take care and enjoy your break ^^ <3

#asks.#from ☄️ anon #( pay the price )#its embarrassing how little movies i have watched..#i wanna watch totally killer soon idk if you watched that

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teenageread · 1 year ago

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Review: Loveboat Forever

Synopsis:

Pearl was ready for a worldwide stage. Instead, she needs to stage a comeback.

Seventeen-year-old music prodigy Pearl Wong had the summer of her dreams planned: she’d been accepted into the ultra-exclusive New York Summer Symphony, where she was going to prove once and for all that she belonged in the rigid, unforgiving classical music world.

Then a fall from grace put her in need of new plans—and a new image. Where better to rebuild her shattered reputation than at Chien Tan, the Taipei summer program for elite students that rocketed her older sister, Ever, on a path to romance and self fulfilment years ago?

Pearl’s agent agrees. It’s the perfect plan. But as the alumni know, Chien Tan is actually Loveboat: a well-kept secret extravaganza, where prodigies party till dawn. There’s more awaiting Pearl at Loveboat than she could have ever imagined, like a scandalous party in the dark, a romantic entanglement with a mysterious suitor . . . and a summer that will change her forever.

Set six years after the events of Loveboat, Taipei, Loveboat Forever brings the whole gang back to campus for another reunion.

Plot:

Pearl was beyond excited to be accepted into Apollo Summer Youth Sympathy. With the recent passing of her father, who was a huge supporter of her piano playing, this was a dream made true as Pearl wanted to go to honor her father, plus spend some time in NYC where her older sister Ever lived as a dancer. Wanting to share her excitement, Pearl posted a TikTok that went viral - for the wrong reason. With Apollo taking away her acceptance, Pearl’s manager said she needed a summer to lie low, and hopefully next summer she can get back into Apollo and restart her career. What better way to lie low, and reconnect with her roots, than Chien Tan, a language and cultural program in Taipei, better known as Loveboat. It was the same program that six years earlier, Ever, and something she encouraged Pearl to do. Heading over to Taipei, Pearl connects with family friend Sophie and her boyfriend, Xavier, along with Rick, who is still madly in love with Ever. Having her own Love Boat experience, Pearl makes new friends and a few crushes, as she comes into her own she discovers who she is beyond her piano, and makes a few kisses along the way.

Thoughts:

Abigail Wen is back, giving us the final Loveboat novel, featuring favorites from the first two, as they tell the story of Pearl (Ever’s younger sister), and her Loveboat experience. So taken from the first-person point of view of Pearl, we get to experience Loveboat one more time, from a narrator who is excited to be there. Yes, despite this not being her plan, Pearl is excited to experience Loveboat as it is, as Wen has her making friends, forming crushes, and going to all the parties, just like her older sister. With multiple guest experiences from Loveboat favorites, Wen does a fantastic job tying series favorites to this novel, while expertly telling us Pearl’s journey. Just as Chien Tan / Loveboat suggests, Wen has two plots happening to Pearl’s life at once: her connecting to her family, and her connecting to her heart. For her family, Wen dives deep into Pearl’s musical life, and who she plays for, giving her depth and character development as she discovers this important part of herself. The other half is her love life, with two boys, a mystery one, and finally with herself. Even though Pearl does not go as crazy as Ever did, Wen gives Pearl the excitement of over-the-top dates, wild parties, and top-notch kisses as Pearl learns more about love, and what it takes to love someone. With a wonderful ending that wraps up the whole Loveboat series, Wen gives you something to root for and makes you happy that everything ends in love and happiness within this series.

Read more reviews: Goodreads

Buy the book: Amazon

#Loveboat Forever #Loveboat Taipei #Abigail Wan #book reivew

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statticscribbles · 2 years ago

Text

Freak

Summary: Eddie Munson x ftm reader for the prompt of reader tries to buy weed off Eddie and Eddie can tell he is having a hard time and reader opens up about his abusive parent

”You just say the word and I walk away..” Eddie tries to smile, he knows Y/N shouldn’t be this nervous over a simple drug deal; no one would be surprised about him getting them. He won’t dig, he won’t pester him to find out what’s going on but he still reaches out for him; hand shaking and he doesn’t pull away, slowly leaning forward letting him spill everything that the drugs would have suppressed.

It’s not his problem that Y/N's parents use the wrong; the wrong pronouns; that he uses the weed to lessen the sting;but he still wants to help. It’s how he justifies the discount; but he knows he can’t justify inviting you back to his place; not when he’s shown you he clearly has the drugs in his lunchbox.

“So how does this work?” Eddie blinks at you; never in his life has he been happier to show someone how to roll.

You can see Eddie hesitating and you frown; worried that helping use the drugs is a step too far; instead he puts that soft smile back on that makes your heart flutter.

“Well it’ll be easier to show you at my place; I have everything there..”

“You’ve done this before right?” Eddie doesn’t sound annoyed; despite you asking him to explain everything again; you shake your head worried this’ll annoy him and he’ll kick you out. His place was comforting in a way you weren’t sure you could describe yet.

“Alright so the basic first step is…”

You’re not really sure if you’re going to remember any of it; after finishing rolling; you had to restart twice. You’d smoked with him; it just made sense he’d half explained; already offering you the lighter. That way if anything bad happened he knew what to do and there was no risk of your parents getting pissed.

“What?” He comments when you laugh at that.

“My parents wouldn’t care about this.”

“Really? Their son using drugs? Seems like something a lot of parents would care about.”

“Nah; my mom’s more interested in who I used to be; anything to do with me before I came to high school and that exposed me to ‘all sorts of horrors and freaks’ her words not mine.” You laugh a little and Eddie grins.

“Mhm; well she got the whole freak thing down pat; I mean I don’t think you can get any freakier than me; the dungeon master of the hellfire club. Ya know?”

“Mhm; I’m pretty sure she’s convinced I’m the spawn of hell since all of this started.” You gesture down to your body and Eddie tilts his head, biting his lip a little to avoid blurting something out.

“Since I started transitioning; and wearing this style of clothing…”

“That’s just basically what I wear..”

“Yeah; guys clothing.”

“You’re a guy..”

“My mom doesn’t think so.”

“Well fuck her then; or don’t I’m not in to MILF’s Steve’s uh friend Billy was; you remember him right? Died in that fire…”

“Oh yeah; wait you’re friends with Steve?”

“Friends with everyone; perks of giving them grass.”

“Didn’t realize you were Hawkin’s high’s gardener as well.”

“Mhm; someone has to know how to grow things when the world ends.” He laughs again and you can pretend that the excitement you’re feeling isn’t because Eddie seems to have accepted your transition without so much as a stumble.

“So Billy.” You prompt again and he laughs.

“Mhm dude was crazy into mom’s. Think it’s cause his own fucked him up or something; never talked about it much. Just came by to unwind.”

“Doesn’t everyone come by your place to unwind?” You try to keep the hurt out of your voice; Eddie isn’t even your friend; you shouldn’t feel possessive over him.

“Don’t usually invite people back here.”

“Unless it’s they’re first time..” You counter and he shrugs.

“Nah; just people I’m interested in.”

“Interested?” You arch and eyebrow and Eddie smiles nodding.

“Mhm; I’m always interested in new freaks; especially ones that get branded that by their own parents.”

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things reader insert #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x trans reader #eddie munson x male reader #written #stattic

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years ago

Text

sing me something brave from your mouth

based on this post

read on ao3

Eddie’s losing his mind. That’s the only explanation for the way his brain has been working lately.

And by “working”, he means not working. At all.

His default is generally stoic, quiet. If he doesn’t have anything to say, nice or otherwise, he doesn’t say anything at all. And if he does have something to say, it’s articulate. Thought out. Words carefully chosen so that his point is direct and clear. People may think it’s because he doesn’t have much to say, but it’s really because he’s had too many people in his life twist his words to be something they’re not, and this has become his defense. He does have things to say, he’s just careful.

Usually.

The issue now, however, is that he has too much to say, too many things he’s been holding in for too long, and his brain has no idea what to do with all this information. He doesn’t have the storage space to keep it buttoned up like normal, waiting for at least a once over before he speaks. So now his words come tumbling out, unfiltered, unedited, raw and real.

And never, ever, at the right time.

“Maybe you should go home first” wasn’t supposed to come out at all. In the end, he’s glad it did, but that wasn’t the plan. He was going to be gentle, considerate, account for the fact that none of this was actually Ana’s fault. Thank her for being so good with Chris and hoping they could stay on good terms. But he did say it, and she had some choice words of her own, and then she was gone, leaving behind nothing but leftovers and a lingering pain in Eddie’s chest. He’d hoped that was that, that the panic would subside for good and he could get back to living, that his brain would settle down and lock everything back up, restart the filtering process that Eddie had spent so many years perfecting.

Apparently, a little peace and normalcy was too much to ask for.

It’s three weeks later, after Maddie left, after Chimney left and came back, after Buck and Chimney hugged and made up as only brothers (blood or otherwise) can. They’re all three at the apartment on their day off, to see Jee-yun and keep Chim company and help him clean out his fridge so he can get rid of “the smell of death and decay that has taken over since I’ve been gone”. Eddie stands dutifully next to the fridge, trash bag open, as Chim dumps container after container of leftovers out, each smelling more foul than the last.

“Jesus, Chim, you didn’t think to do this before you left?” Buck chirps from the barstool at the island. He’s got a babbling Jee in his lap and a cut up banana in front of him that he’s determined to get her to enjoy.

Chim glares at him, no real heat behind it. “I was a little preoccupied.” Buck nods in fairness, wincing a bit as he turns back to Jee, another slice of banana in his hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want it?” he asks. “It’s really good, see?” He takes an exaggerated chomp, makes a show of chewing and swallowing, sending Jee into peals of giggles that fill up the whole house, brightening it and making everything warmer. His smile matches hers, and Eddie feels a soft fondness rush through him, the same one he feels when he watches Buck do anything with Chris.

“You’re going to be a really great dad.” It’s not a new thought — he’s had the same one in passing more times than he can count over the course of knowing Buck — but it takes Eddie about five seconds to realize that he said it out loud.

Luckily, it doesn’t rock Buck’s world as much as it does Eddie’s. He just smiles that bashful smile of his and says, “Well, I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

“Thank you, Buck, glad my parenting wisdom has had such an effect on you,” Chim says, voice carrying from where he’s chest deep in the fridge. Buck sticks his tongue out at his back and turns back to Jee, who’s smile quickly melts away as she starts crying.

Chim emerges and sighs. “She probably needs to be changed.”

“I got it,” Buck waves him off, scooping Jee up and heading to the bedroom. “You probably have biohazard material on your hands anyway.”

Eddie stares after them, smiling at Buck’s soft murmurs that quiet Jee’s cries and transform them back into laughter. That fondness is still curling around his chest, making itself at home, until he feels something land in the bag in his hands with a heavy squelch, startling him back to reality and leaving him chilled. He whips his head back, and Chim is giving him a look that’s half smug and half exasperated.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” Chim says, shaking his head and turning towards the sink. “Just remembering the times when I used to think you were smooth. Clearly things have changed.”

Eddie whips a stray paper towel at his head and curses himself for blushing.

~~~~~~~~~~

It continues. Actually, Eddie thinks it might be getting worse.

“How did you know you were in love with Karen?”

Hen looks at him sideways from the driver’s seat, eyebrow arched. They’ve been working well together on the days when Chim is off taking care of Jee, but they haven’t crossed the threshold into “intimate life talks in the ambulance” just yet. And, like every other time this has happened, he didn’t mean to ask her that. But ever since the parade call, he’s been thinking about those girls, about Cassie, who’s first thought when she came back to consciousness was her best friend, who she clearly cared about more than herself, and—

He wonders. And the thought clawed its way out of him before he could tame it into something normal and nonchalant yet again.

Hen’s quiet for a minute, staring at the road, thinking, and Eddie tries his best not to fidget or take back the whole question.

She looks over at him again, finally, eyes softer this time. “Did you know I met her when she was supposed to be on a blind date with someone else?”

“Really?”

Her smile goes a little dreamy. “She thought she got stood up, but she was just in the wrong bar. I saw her sitting alone, offered to keep her company. We ended up shutting that place down and another one too.”

“So you knew on your first date?”

Hen shakes her head. “I just knew she was special. It felt like the universe brought us together for a reason and I wanted to see what that reason was. I got her number and we texted all the time, met up for dinners and drinks, and the conversations just kept going. They’re still going, honestly. Eventually she became the only person that I wanted to see after a shift, the only person I wanted to spend all my free time with.”

Eddie nods, swallows his anxiety back down into his stomach where he keeps it locked away. He knows that feeling. He knows wanting to see only one face after a good shift or a bad shift or even a boring shift. He knows what it’s like to not be able to see that face, how it gnaws at you, grates your nerves, flays you open until you get back to that person and you feel your lungs fill up again. But there’s a difference between knowing and having — knowing is personal, something you can control, that isn’t left up to fate or the universe or whatever powers control the trajectory of life. To get to have something, you have to give up that control, and the decision of who gets it is completely out of your hands. It could be beautiful, everything you’ve ever wanted, or it could shatter your heart more than you ever thought possible.

Eddie’s struggling enough with not being able to control his own damn mouth at the moment. He’s not sure he’d survive giving up any more, no matter how much he wants to.

And so he asks, “Weren’t you scared? Of messing up whatever special thing you thought you guys had?”

They pull into the station and Hen kills the engine, turning towards Eddie fully. Her look is gentle and knowing, and it takes every ounce of Eddie’s willpower to not run inside and hope she forgets this whole conversation.

“No,” she says. “I was more scared of losing her to someone else because I didn’t try and give her everything she deserved.”

Eddie finally looks away then because yeah, he knows that feeling too.

There’s a knock on the passenger window that makes them both almost hit the ceiling. It’s Buck (because of course it is), his hands held up in apology. “Just making sure you guys were coming in for lunch.”

“We’ll be right there, Buckaroo,” Hen says. “Save me a plate?”

“Already done. There’s one for you too, Eds.” He drums his hands against the door and winks before skipping away. Eddie tries to keep his face in check, but he has a feeling it’s edging toward the same dreamy look Hen was sporting earlier.

There’s snort from beside him, and he knows he’s right.

He clears his throat and looks back at her again. “Thanks Hen. That was...helpful.”

She grabs his forearm, squeezing lightly. “Be brave, Edmundo. It’ll turn out better than you think.”

He smiles and nods one more time before he hops out of the ambulance. Hen was helpful — he certainly feels a little less alone in these feelings he’s trying not to drown in — but fear is still settled deep under his skin at the thought of laying himself out there like that, of taking that leap, of letting go.

He wants to be brave. He knows he can be brave. But being brave, especially being brave like that, is a lot easier said than done.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s trying to take Buck. A man is pulling Buck into the hospital to hold him hostage and Eddie’s brain is firing on all cylinders and there’s no time to think or plan or breathe because he’s trying to take Buck—

“Take me.”

The man stops, arm still wrapped around Buck’s throat. Buck’s eyes are wide, panicked, and Eddie has a feeling it’s not just because he’s running out of oxygen. But while he didn’t necessarily think he’d resort to offering himself up as a sacrifice, a panicked and desperate brain is a truthful one, and this is a truth he knows down to his atoms.

He’s trying to take Buck. He’s trying to hurt Buck. Eddie will do anything and everything in his power to prevent that.

“Eddie—”

“Leave him. Take me instead.”

For the first time in months, he doesn’t curse his unpolished words. There’s a pause, a moment of stillness in the chaos, and the man shrugs, dropping his arm and shoving Buck forward before grabbing Eddie roughly by the bicep.

“Whatever, I only need one of you.”

Eddie has just enough time to look back and catch the devastation in Buck’s eyes before the door slams shut behind him.

It’s okay. He’ll be fine. Buck will make sure of it. They always have each other’s backs.

The waiting is the worst part. The man is not the best captor — the rope he tied around Eddie’s hands has already come loose — but he’s been negotiating with the police for the better part of an hour, and Eddie’s getting restless. Is Buck okay? The guy (unsuccessfully) tried to knock him out with his gun and left a pretty bad gash. Did he get it looked at? Or, more likely, is he ignoring it, trying to stay in the action, stay close to the people who are trying to get Eddie out? He’s itching, buzzing, but not for fear of his own safety. He needs to see Buck, needs to touch him, needs to know for sure that he’s out of harm’s way, he needs he needs he needs—

There’s shouting and loud footsteps, and the door opens with a slam. SWAT pours in, detains the guy, and helps Eddie off the ground and out the door. It’s chaos, more shouting and flashing lights and more people than there were when he went inside. But none of that matters, no one else matters as Eddie frantically searches the crowd for familiar curls.

“Buck!”

He hears him before he sees him, voice louder than any gunshot or siren.

“Eddie! Eddie!”

Relief hits him so hard he almost falls over.

He doesn’t realize he’s running — sprinting — until they crash into each other. Eddie flings his arms around Buck’s shoulder and buries his face in his neck and he breathes.

“Jesus Christ, Eds,” Buck says into his hair, voice cracking. “What the hell were you thinking?”

That’s the thing, though — he wasn’t thinking. Protecting Buck, keeping him safe, that was all instinct. That’s not something he’s ever had to think about, even when his brain was cooperating with him.

He pulls back, just enough to see Buck’s face, clocking the angry, red cut on his forehead. His fingers ghost over it before his hand settles on the side of Buck’s head. “Are you okay?”

Buck leans into his touch and nods. “Yeah, it’s— it’s superficial, looks worse than it is.” His eyes are shining as they move over Eddie’s face, down his arms and chest, so intense Eddie swears he can feel everywhere they land. “Are you okay?”

By all accounts, no, he’s not. He’s exhausted, his nerves are fried, he wants to go home and sleep off the emotional hangover he’s sure is coming.

But still — he’s with Buck. They’re alive, and they’re together.

“Yeah. I’m okay now.”

Buck’s smile is wet and fond, an eternal bright spot. Eddie tucks his face back into his neck and keeps breathing.

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew it was coming, had been bracing himself for it for months, but he hadn’t expected it to be so quiet.

It makes sense, when he thinks about it. The way he feels about Buck is louder than almost anything he’s ever known — combine that with his love for his son, and it’s a cacophony of emotions constantly running through him, loud enough to keep the demons at bay. And while part of him wants to sing it from the rooftops, let anyone and everyone know how much this man means to him, a bigger part thinks that something like this is too important to blast at full volume. His feelings aren’t for everyone — he doesn’t want them to be — so it shouldn’t be a rock concert, loud enough to break windows and shake foundations. It should melt into the background, like a vinyl record on a rainy day, lingering long after the needle stops, not soon forgotten.

So, it makes sense that it’s quiet, just for the two of them. It makes sense that despite the enormity of his feelings, despite the lawlessness he’s been embracing recently, this moment is small and intimate because it matters.

That doesn’t mean he does it with any kind of finesse.

It’s quiet on the balcony, the shimmering lights of LA laid out below them. Chris is asleep on the couch inside, knocked out halfway through their second movie, and the two of them are facing each other on the bench just outside the window, beer bottles between them, talking quietly. Buck is in the middle of a rundown of a documentary about a cult he just finished (“They branded these women Eddie, how fucked up is that?”), and Eddie wants to live in this bubble of warmth and peace forever. The way Buck’s voice washes over him, protecting him from the dark whispers that tend to trickle into his head in quiet moments like this. The way their ankles are crossed where they hang off the front of the couch. The way Buck keeps glancing at Chris through the window when he shifts in his sleep, making sure he’s safe.

It’s everything Eddie never knew he wanted, everything he never thought he could have. He’s relaxed and happy, so the thought slips out of him without a fight.

“God, I’m so in love with you.” He says it on an exhale, almost a whisper, almost lost in the breeze, but Buck freezes mid sentence, so he knows he hears it.

And Eddie could freak out — he could backtrack and blame it on the beer and laugh it off, and he knows Buck would roll with it. He could hold on to the last bit of control he has over his feelings, keep them far from the edge he’s just accidentally thrown himself over. But even though it was unplanned, even though he’s giving everything up to the whims of fate now, it’s also the truth. A foundational truth, one that’s worked its way into the very fiber of his being. He doesn’t want Buck to not know that anymore.

He waits as Buck processes, not taking it back, not asking for an answer. If he doesn’t get one tonight, that’s fine — he’ll wait as long as Buck needs, even if it ends up being a gentle letdown.

The sweet syrupiness he’s feeling must not be his alone, because when Buck starts moving, it feels like the slowest of slow motions. He moves the beer bottles to the table in front of them, out of harm’s way, before maneuvering the two of them until he’s in Eddie’s lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him like he just told him every star in the sky now had his name etched into it. Eddie’s hands automatically come up to hold Buck’s waist, and he feels his breath hitch at how right it feels, how perfectly his body fits with Buck’s. Buck’s own hands come up, one on Eddie’s shoulder and one on his cheek, and Eddie’s helpless but to lean into the touch, reveling in the warmth and rightness of it all.

Even leaning in Buck goes slow, like he’s afraid to spook Eddie, to break this moment they’ve created, but as soon as their lips touch, Eddie deepens it — he lets himself take for once, lets himself be greedy, and it’s everything. He holds Buck tighter, gets lost in the kiss and the feel of Buck’s smile against his, and he thinks that if this is what giving up control is like, he could absolutely get used to it. He’ll do or say pretty much anything if it means having moments like this for the rest of his life.

The kiss gets cut short when their smiles get too big, but Eddie’s still breathless and Buck’s cheeks are still flushed the most beautiful pink he’s ever seen. Buck moves his hands to the base of Eddie’s skull, running his fingers through short hair, caressing him, and Eddie’s glad Buck’s in his lap because he’s pretty sure he’s about to float away.

“I love you too,” Buck whispers, tracing his nose along Eddie’s. “So much, and for a while, I think. I just— I didn’t want to—” Eddie cuts him off with a kiss, soft and sweet, because he gets it, probably better than anyone. It’s hard to take risks with the people you can’t lose.

They don’t move for a while, trading kisses and whispers, getting used to this new but familiar connection they’ve created. Even when they get up, driven inside by the late hour and the chilling breeze, it takes them a minute because they can’t stop touching each other.

Eddie finally slides the door shut quietly behind him, turns to Buck who looks equal parts hopeful and nervous. “You’re staying, right?” he asks. “Both of you?”

Nothing in the world — no filter or wall or insecurity — could prevent him from tangling his fingers with Buck’s and saying, “Yes. Always.”

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #sometimes ideas just don't leave you alone and 3k words later you have a mess of emotions #ficcery

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cherrykindness · 4 years ago

Text

let's make babies |

pairing: Harry Styles x Actress!Reader

summary: you and harry are doing a live on instagram, you've drunk a lot of wine and now the world knows that the future Mrs. Styles is ready to make babies.

warnings: mostly cute, but the title tells you what you need to know 🤪

"What is your favorite song from the Fine Line album?" Y/N read aloud, twirling in her right hand the second glass of wine of the evening, the one already halfway through. "Adore You and Watermelon Sugar, of course."

Harry giggled, rolling his eyes upon hearing his fiancée's statement.

"Y/N will always choose Adore You because it was obviously written for her." He accused. "She wouldn't give that answer under different circumstances."

The comments climbed up the screen continuously, most fans gushing about how cute Harry Styles and YN/LN could be while the other part was concerned with wringing even more information out of the slightly inebriated couple who had decided to do a surprise live one early Sunday morning.

As expected after being away for some time to begin filming Don't Worry, Darling in Southern California, Harry enjoyed a lazy weekend in the house he shared with his fiancée and her pets. The days were filled with late naps and relentless Netflix marathons, sublime and ethereal evenings, marked mostly by unexpected declarations and rounds of sex that used to last until the beams of light were shyly coming through the linen curtains. They were not a monotonous couple, so this order could easily be changed.

"Watermelon Sugar is nothing more than about my love for watermelons, don't get too creative." Harry replied to a fan while sporting a corner smile, the message standing out among the rest for its dozens of emojis and large print, questioning the singer about erotic content behind the lyrics of his latest hit. "I really don't know what you guys are talking about."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before leaning it against her fiancé's chest, propped up on the soft white pillows that were spread practically all over the bed. The air conditioner was on at a minimal temperature and a light rain whipped on the panes of glass camouflaged by the cream-colored curtain, that being the projection of Y/N's favorite nights.

"You can tell them, I'm not shy." She joked, nudging her fiancé's waist.

"You know what it was written about and who it was written for." Harry replied, raising one of his eyebrows. "That's what matters."

It went without saying that much of Harry's newest album, as well as some of his earlier work, had been done in exclusive dedication to his future wife. Y/N had been the muse for a vast repertoire of romantic songs, and even though the singer preferred to keep the story behind his more explicit compositions a "secret", the relationship the two had shared for more than three years was already solid and known enough for the media and fans to distinguish hidden messages in small details.

"It's a song about what usually comes before the act of making babies." Y/N laughed as he pointed at the display. "Honestly, you guys are impossible."

"No, we make babies every day." Harry joked, making a funny motion with his eyebrows. "I would spend my entire career writing just about that."

"Harry!" The actress exclaimed incredulously, slapping her fiancé weakly on the chest. "Children might be watching this."

"You don't want to have babies with me?" He asked falsely offended, accepting the cup that Y/N offered him. "Because I want some babies with you."

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes as she watched the internet freak out at the dialogue that had suddenly emerged. Since the beginning of the quarantine, it was kind of inevitable that the couple of artists would not become the darlings of all social media; they were fervently active with photos, videos, and lives that depicted step by step daily life in isolation, gaining more and more followers and making the media more and more fascinated by the relationship they both shared.

The wedding was scheduled for the summer of next year and it was perhaps the most anticipated event in the tabloids. Bets about what the model of Y/N's dress would be and lists presuming who would be selected for the short list of guests stood out among countless news stories about the famous people influencing pop culture today.

The possible arrival of a Styles baby was an inevitable topic in interviews. Harry and Niall were the only members of the ex-boyband that had not become fathers yet, and because they had maintained a solid relationship and were seen as one of the most enviable couples during the last four years, Y/N and Harry had gotten used to all this openly asked questions. They didn't mind, they even had fun with the montages and all the anxiety that dominated the whole internet, often mentioning the fandoms' efforts to represent them as such "cool" parents in perfectly edited pictures.

"No, guys, I'm not pregnant." Y/N amusingly clarified the doubt of dozens of new comments. "Please don't believe so many controversial news stories that appear out there. I was on twitter last week and saw several people theorizing about a possible pregnancy, most of the arguments based on a website that used photos from the set of How to Get Away with Murder in the season where I was actually playing a pregnant woman as Laurel." She laughed. "It's so funny! I know you guys love to guess these things, but we won't hide something so special when it actually happen, I promise."

"Especially because Y/N can hide absolutely nothing from anyone." Harry accused, leaving his drink on the corner table before settling into a comfortable position for the two of them. "Anyone who's a Marvel fan knows that. That's one of her most characteristic quirks."

"They gave me a fake script for the last two movies." Y/N agreed, shaking his head. "For me and Tom."

"We agreed to keep the engagement a secret for a while. The plan was to travel to Holmes Chapel to break the news to my family in person, but guess who got a call at ten o'clock at night from an angry Anne because she learned of her son's engagement from an interview Y/N gave the next day?"

Y/N gave a guilty smile, winking gracefully at the camera. "It was all James' fault! I'm sure he already suspected something, those questions were very suspicious."

"Of course the questions were suspicious, babe. You literally said you had a secret that involved both of us but that you couldn't tell because it was important that our families knew first."

"I thought he would think about a pregnancy or something!" The actress defended herself, feeling very convincing in her intonation bordering on obviousness. "That's a mania I can't get rid of, it's in my genes."

"Did you all hear that? Further proof that you guys don't have to worry about guessing when Y/N's pregnancy will be, I'm sure our baby will make sure to tell you everything while still in the womb, mom's genes will make sure of that."

"You are so funny, Harry Styles." Y/N sarcastically stated, holding back a giggle as countless messages with laughing emojis were frantically up. "Yeah, I know I talk a lot and all, but you have annoying quirks too."

It was obvious that live would be news the next day. Although they were completely open about matters concerning their relationship, nothing seemed better than receiving so much exclusive information from a Harry and S/N drunk on expensive wine.

"You wake up in a bad mood and you're dangerously sexy, that should be illegal."

Harry laughed, holding his fiancée's waist a little tighter as he felt her tumble a little further to the side, getting closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Y/N was dangerously weak for drinks, and the singer knew that the actress' body was already near its limit.

"You're the only sexy person here, love." He declared with a corner smile, evidently finding the whole situation funny. "Do you want to go to sleep now?"

"No." Y/N shook her head. "Can we watch some movie? Can we watch Sweet Home?"

"Of course, love." He murmured, giving the woman a quick kiss on the forehead.

Even though Harry knew that his fiancée was unlikely to make it past the five-minute mark of the episode, he made sure to restart the korean series at exactly the scene where she had stopped, the first chapter still halfway through after Y/N realized that it would be impossible to watch such a macabre work without a drop of alcohol in her blood.

She had been so excited by the taste of Argentinian wine and the idea of updating her fans after a few weeks away, that she had forgotten the main purpose of the live. Harry and Y/N had been apart for a few days due to the new movie the Brit was shooting in North America, all happening in an unrestrictedly careful manner due to the restrictions caused by the pandemic.

He was slowly migrating towards acting and the future Mrs. Styles couldn't be prouder. Y/N had felt on cloud nine when Harry had given her the news of his upcoming job, but her only pronouncement on the subject had been a succinct post on instagram. Just a photo of the couple on a trip to Germany with a simple heart emoji didn't seem enough for the actress' exhibitionist soul, and coming to that conclusion was the main reason she decided to invite him, already relatively changed, for a live appearance. Y/N wanted to go on and on about how much she loved that man and work on that whole honeyed speech that would bring her (once again) the title of "cutest bride of all time," but of course Harry had to come home from his trip with his favorite red wine and poison her with those sweet caresses that took her out of orbit, turning the degree of alcohol content into the least of her problems.

"You're going to kiss Florence." Y/N exclaimed suddenly, as if only now realizing that her fiancé would share the screen with Florence Pugh, one of her closest friends in that industry. "Kiss on the mouth."

The MacBook was still open and hundreds of new comments were going up every second, but Harry didn't bother one bit to warn her about the possibility of her becoming a meme the next day. He was having too much fun with the situation to worry.

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes." She stated with a pout. "I am jealous, I just don't know if I'm more jealous of her or of you."

"But you kiss me every day, babe." Harry laughed. "And you've been kissing other people's men for almost ten years." He joked.

"But I only think about you, I already told you that."

Harry shook his head negatively at the camera, knowing he was sharing with the fans the funniest side of his fiancée.

"I know that, honey." He assured, lightly stroking the actress' back. "I think we'd better turn off the TV and go to sleep now, I'm sure you'll have a terrible headache tomorrow."

The brit planned to bid his audience goodbye and put an end to that recording, but Y/N was drunk and her sense of right and wrong had already gone to space. Harry should have been quicker, however, because his fiancée's speech would be cause for new tags and the only subject for the interviewers for at least the next few months.

"I don't want to sleep, how about we make babies?"

That's what Watermelon Sugar was all about, after all.

#harry styles imagine #imagine1d #imagine harry styles #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #fluffy imagine #harry fluff #actress reader

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years ago

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An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #silent hill #silent hill x reader #silent hill imagine #pyramid head #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head imagine #red pyramid #red pyramid x reader #red pyramid imagine

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mini-melo · 4 years ago

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hahaha @petrichormeraki have more ranboo content because im brain dead from class restarting and the recent streams.

also, im trying very hard to refrain from angst right now because i just want ranboo to be adopted by the hermits.

who knows, maybe i'll have the whole fucking dsmp be adopted by the hermits. god knows that server is a mess.

also this written in the span of a few days because i've been watching hermitcraft a lot lmao. also also, i am mainly an angst writer so i'm not so sure if this is as good as the others.

---

When Tommy brought his new friend over to the server, it was all the hetmits could do not to hide the kid from the world.

Of course they know where Ranboo is from. Of course they know Ranboo is actually an old friend from a life before death. Do they care? No, they don't, because Ranboo is just another child soldier from a server who allow it.

With that being said, they don't give back Ranboo for the next two weeks.

---

Ranboo didn't like Xisuma.

Well, the enderman hybrid was cautious, at least in the beginning, because Xisuma's an admin. Dream was the only admin he knew and look how that turned out?

Then Ranboo sees Xisuma interact with the other hermits.

Ranboo watches the admin work as hard as the others on the server, gathering resources and building his base from scratch. Ranboo sees the admin laugh when Grian and Tommy pelt him with eggs. Ranboo stares as the admin lets everyone respawn, no matter how many times they die, and no matter how "relevant" their death was.

Seeing Xisuma treat the hermits as equals, Ranboo finally understands why Tommy stayed here, in this community where people help each other and play pranks and call prank wars "wars." Ranboo understands because he wants to stay now, under the wing of this kind, fair admin that he's watched since they met.

Ranboo likes Xisuma.

---

Xisuma knows what he'll find in Ranboo's code, and as much as he wants to look, he knows that he doesn't have the right, nor the permission.

As it was, Xisuma makes sure to keep an eye on the boy—another child, how many children does that godforsaken SMP have?—just in case Ranboo takes too much damage.

If the admin hands the young hybrid a shulker box of golden carrots and apples? Well, the other hermits are all for protecting children anyway.

---

Tommy likes Ranboo, and sure, the ghost is loud and optimistic and always laughing, and he may be missing more than the recommended amount of memories, but he's not dumb.

Tommy, for all his happiness and lost memories, is far from dumb. He knows the feeling his missing memories give him, and he knows that he feels the same thing radiating from his new friend.

It doesn't take Tommy much to convince Ranboo to stay in Hermitcraft for longer than intended.

Besides, Tommy may not remember Ranboo, but he has echoes of fragile happiness from a life long past whenever he talks to the hybrid. Tommy will be damned before he lets go of one of the only positive feelings he gets from that void he calls memories.

---

Ranboo doesn't want to leave.

Mumbo's redstone is fascinating, False's deep base is incredible, Tango's Toon Towers bring out the child in Ranboo, Etho's weirdly endearing base reminds him of a more organized enderman home, and he can hide around the shopping district for hours on end.

Ranboo likes Hermitcraft so much, but he likes the residents even more.

Grian is so much like Tommy that Ranboo automatically likes him. Stress is so sweet he doesn't know if he should cling to her or be wary of cavities. Iskall always brings a smile to his face, no matter the occasion. Scar jokingly showing off his throne makes his day.

Ranboo doesn't even know how to begin with the rest of the hermits; their kindness, their respect, their mindfulness—it overwhelms him sometimes. It's nice, and Ranboo likes them.

But Xisuma...

Xisuma watches out for Ranboo. He makes sure not to scare the anxious enderman, makes sure he has everything he needs, makes sure he has a place to stay, makes sure he's comfortable and happy in this server.

Xisuma looks for Ranboo when he accidentally teleports. He offers the teenager parts of his base to settle in for the visit. He supplies the child with food and resources until he had the chance to teach Ranboo how to get it himself.

Xisuma hugs Ranboo in pride when the kid manages to survive Decked Out on his first try. Xisuma pats Ranboo on the head when the kid makes a hut at the edge of his base. Xisuma chuckles amusedly when Ranboo instinctively stole a few blocks from the shopping district. Xisuma gently tells Ranboo to give back the blocks in his stolen pile, and gifts the kid colorful terracotta in exchange.

Ranboo doesn't want to leave.

---

See, here's how it starts.

Ranboo is invited by Tommy into Hermitcraft. In the span of two weeks, the teenager gains a father figure and a server that's more of a family than his own.

The best thing is there's no end in sight.

Ranboo goes back to DreamSMP, tells the residents Tommy is happy, and goes back to Hermitcraft two days later.

(Eventually, he's not the only one.)

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit!tommy au #ghostinnit #ranboo supremacy #ranboo is adopted by xisuma #i love him so much guys #and i have one for tubbo in the editing stage #so look out for that tomorrow or smth #yes #i will have all the children adopted eventually #maybe even the adults #idk i just want fluff now man

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homosexuhauls · 3 years ago

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15 JUNE, 2021 by Chimamanda Ngozi-Adichie

IT IS OBSCENE: A TRUE REFLECTION IN THREE PARTS

PART ONE

When you are a public figure, people will write and say false things about you. It comes with the territory. Many of those things you brush aside. Many you ignore. The people close to you advise you that silence is best. And it often is. Sometimes, though, silence makes a lie begin to take on the shimmer of truth.

In this age of social media, where a story travels the world in minutes, silence sometimes means that other people can hijack your story and soon, their false version becomes the defining story about you.

Falsehood flies, and the Truth comes limping after it, as Jonathan Swift wrote.

Take the case of a young woman who attended my Lagos writing workshop some years ago; she stood out because she was bright and interested in feminism.

After the workshop, I welcomed her into my life. I very rarely do this, because my past experiences with young Nigerians left me wary of people who are calculating and insincere and want to use me only as an opportunity. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I thought that was worth making an exception.

She spent time in my Lagos home. We had long conversations. I was support-giver, counsellor, comforter.

Then I gave an interview in March 2017 in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, (the larger point of which was to say that we should be able to acknowledge difference while being fully inclusive, that in fact the whole premise of inclusiveness is difference.)

I was told she went on social media and insulted me.

This woman knows me enough to know that I fully support the rights of trans people and all marginalized people. That I have always been fiercely supportive of difference, in general. And that I am a person who reads and thinks and forms my opinions in a carefully considered way.

Of course she could very well have had concerns with the interview. That is fair enough. But I had a personal relationship with her. She could have emailed or called or texted me. Instead she went on social media to put on a public performance.

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe it. But I mostly held myself responsible. My spirit had been slightly stalled, from the beginning, by her. My first sense of unease with her came when she posted a photo taken in my house, at a time when I did not want any photos of my personal life on social media. I asked that she take it down. The second case of unease was her publicizing something I had told her in confidence about another member of the workshop. The most upsetting was when she, without telling me, used my name to apply for an American visa. Above all else was my lingering suspicion that she was a person who chose as friends only those from whom she could benefit. But she was a Bright Young Nigerian Feminist and I allowed that sentiment to over-ride my unease.

After she publicly insulted me, it was clear to me that this kind of noxious person had no business in my life, ever again.

A few months later, she sent this affected, self-regarding email which I ignored.

Friday September 15 2017 at 4.35 AM

Dearest Chimamanda,

Happy birthday. I mean this with all my heart, even though I know I have fallen (removed myself?) from your grace. It would be impossible for me to stop loving you; long before you gave me the possibility of being your friend you were the embodiment of my deepest hopes, and that will never change.

I think of you often, still – stating the obvious. I grieve the loss of our friendship; it is a complicated sadness. I’m sorry that I caused you pain, or to feel like you can no longer trust me. There’s so much that I wish could be said.

I pray this birthday is the happiest one yet. I wish you rest and quiet and abiding stability, and of course more of the kind of success that means the most to you.

I hope mothering X is everything you hoped and prayed for and more.

Have a wonderful day today.

Love always.

About a year later, she sent this email, which I also ignored.

Thursday November 29 2018 at 8.42 AM

Dear Chimamanda,

I realise this is long overdue and vastly insufficient, but I’m really sorry. I’ve spent so much time going back and forth in my head and my email drafts; wondering whether to write you, how to write you, what to say, all kinds of things. But in the end, this is the thing I realise I need to say.

I’m sorry I disappointed and hurt you by saying things publicly that were sharply critical, unkind and even disrespectful, especially in light of all the backlash and criticism you experience from people who don’t know you. I could have acted with more consideration towards you. I should have, especially given the privilege of intimacy that you had offered me. There are many reasons why I chose to behave the way I did, but none of them is an excuse. And I clearly realise now, after many, many months of needless sadness and angst and hurt and actual confusion, that I did not treat you as a friend would—certainly not as someone would to whom you had offered unprecedented access to yourself and your life.

You’ve meant the world to me since I was barely a teenager. It’s been very hard navigating the emotional fallout of the past several months, knowing you were displeased with me but truly not quite understanding why, then deciding I didn’t care, then realising that would never be true. I’ve always cared. But I was too mixed up about the situation to be able to make sense of it, or properly see past my own justifications. I’m sorry it took me so long to grasp how I let you down.

I realise that I don’t have room to ask anything of you, but I would be grateful for a chance to say this in person. Still, even if I never get that, I really hope you believe me.

Congratulations on restarting the workshop, and on all the other amazing successes of the past several months. I think of you often; it would be impossible not to. You look so happy in your pictures. I really hope you are well.

All my love,

I hoped never to hear from her again. But she has recently gone on social media to write about how she “refused to kiss my ring,” as if I demanded some kind of obeisance from her. She also suggests that there is some dark, shadowy ‘more’ to tell that she won’t tell, with an undertone of “if only you knew the whole story.”

It is a manipulative way of lying. By suggesting there is ‘more’ when you know very well that there isn’t, you do sufficient reputational damage while also being able to plead deniability. Innuendo without fact is immoral.

No, there isn’t more to the story. It is a simple story – you got close to a famous person, you publicly insulted the famous person to aggrandize yourself, the famous person cut you off, you sent emails and texts that were ignored, and you then decided to go on social media to peddle falsehoods. It is obscene to tell the world that you refused to kiss a ring when in fact there isn’t any ring at all.

I cannot make much of the hostility of strangers who do not know me – fame taints our view of the humanity of famous people. But the truth is that the famous person remains irretrievably human. Fame does not inoculate the famous person from disappointment and depression, fame does not make you any less angered or hurt by the duplicitous nature of people. To be famous is to be assumed to have power, which is true, but in the analysis of fame, people often ignore the vulnerability that comes with fame, and they are unable to see how others who have nothing to lose can lie and connive in order to take advantage of that fame, while not giving a single thought to the feelings and humanity of the famous person.

And when you personally know a famous person, when you have experienced their humanity, when you have benefited from their kindness, and yet you are unable to extend to them the basic grace and respect that even a casual acquaintanceship deserves, then it says something fundamental about you.

And in a deluded way, you will convince yourself that your hypocritical, self-regarding, compassion-free behavior is in fact principled feminism. It isn’t. You will wrap your mediocre malice in the false gauziness of ideological purity. But it’s still malice. You will tell yourself that being able to parrot the latest American Feminist orthodoxy justifies your hacking at the spirit of a person who had shown you only kindness. You can call your opportunism by any name, but it doesn’t make it any less of the ugly opportunism that it is.

PART TWO

When I first read this person’s work, which was their application to my writing workshop, I thought the sentences were well-done. I accepted this person. At the workshop, I thought they could have been more respectful of the other participants, perhaps not kept typing dismissively as others’ stories were discussed, with an air of being among people below their level. After the workshop, I decided to select the best stories, edit them, pay the writers a fee, and publish them in an e-magazine. The first story I chose was this person’s. I wrote a glowing introduction, which the story truly deserved.

They sent this email.

Fri, Aug 7, 2015, 8:20 AM

Thank you so much for that introduction. It means so much to me and I’m going to keep reading it to get through the rest of my stay at Syracuse. I sent it to my mother and she got nervous about the piece because you said ‘it disturbs’, said she’s not sure how she’s going to feel when she reads it. But she’s also one of those ‘let’s leave the past in the past’ people. My sister approved, which meant a lot because our childhoods were each other’s.

All that to say, I’m so grateful you gave me the space to write the short version of this piece, the encouragement to write the longer piece, and now, a platform for it. I definitely have plans to write more about Aba.

Thank you, with all my heart.

PS- I wanted to sign off gratefully + gracefully in Igbo but I said let me not fall my own hand 🙂

About a year later, they sent another email to let me know that their novel would be published.

Wed, Jun 8, 2016, 8:20 AM

Greetings!

I hope all’s been well with you this past year. Belated congratulations on the baby’s arrival, I hope she’s being a delight (I’m sure she is), and on the Johns Hopkins honors.

I was thinking about how this time last year, I’d just received the email from you about Farafina and I wanted to reach out with a quick update. I’ve just accepted an offer for the novel I excerpted as my application and it feels like the workshop was a catalyst for the events that’ve led me here. So, thank you, for the workshop and your words and the Olisa TV series and listening to me babble on about my story at the hotel. I deeply appreciate all of it and you.

All my best,

Before the novel was published, I spoke of it to some people, to help it get attention. I had not been able to finish reading it. I found the writing beautiful, but the story false-hearted and burdened by bathos. When I spoke of the novel, however, it was the former sentiment that I expressed, never the latter.

After I gave the March 2017 interview in which I said that a trans woman is a trans woman, I was told that this person had insulted me on social media, calling me, among other things, a murderer. I was deeply upset, because while I did not really know them personally, I felt they knew what I stood for and that I fully supported the rights of trans people, and that I do not wish anybody dead.

Still, I took no action. I ignored the public insult.

When this person’s publishers sent me an early copy of their novel, I was surprised to see that my name was included in their cover biography. I had never seen that done in a book before. I didn’t like that I had not been asked for permission to use my name, but most of all I thought – why would a person who thinks I’m a murderer want my name so prominently displayed in their biography?

Then I learned that, because my name was in the cover biography, a journalist had called them my “protegee” and they then threw a Twitter tantrum about it, calling it clickbait, viciously disavowing having received any help from me.

I knew this person had called me a murderer, I knew they were actively campaigning to “cancel” me and tweeting about how I should no longer be invited to speak at events. But this I felt I could not ignore.

I sent an email to my representative:

From: Chimamanda Adichie

Date: Wed, Feb 14, 2018 at 2:06 PM

I’m writing about X

She attended my Lagos workshop two years ago and I selected hers as one of a few pieces I published after the workshop.

Apparently I was referred to as her ‘mentor’ and/or she was referred to as my ‘protege,’ in some articles, which led to her tweeting about it. Her tweets were forwarded to me by friends. In them, she reacted quite viscerally to my being called her ‘mentor’ and her being my ‘protege.’ To be fair, she is not technically my ‘protege,’ and it is perfectly fine that she feels this way, but her ungracious tone and the ugliness of the energy spent on her tweets surprised me.

I recently received her book and noticed that my name was included in her official book bio. I was stunned. Surely if she is so strongly averse to my being considered a person who has been significant in her career, (which is my understanding of the loose use of protege/mentor) then it is unseemly to make the choice to include my name in her bio. I found it unusual, as I don’t think I’ve seen it done before in a book bio, but I also now find it unacceptably cynical.

It is only reasonable for a person who sees my name as it is used in her bio — ‘her work has been selected and edited by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’ — to assume some sort of mentor/protege relationship.

To publicly disavow this with a tone bordering on hostility and at the same time so baldly use my name to sell her book is utterly unacceptable to me.

I’d like you to please reach out to her publishers and ask that my name be removed from her official book bio. I refuse to be used in this way.

After contacting her publishers, my representative wrote:

They have asked whether your preference would be to remove the Acknowledgment to you in the back of the book also, in future reprints.

I replied:

I don’t think that is my decision to take, and so will not answer either way, although it would be ideal if she herself made the decision to do so.

On the subject of how to go about it, I was absolutely determined not to be used by this person, but I was also sensitive to the costs the publisher might incur, as this was not in any way the publisher’s fault. Instead of pulping the already printed copies, I asked that the jackets be stripped and rebound. To my representative I wrote:

I’m completely determined that I not be used in this opportunistic and hypocritical way. But I want to make sure to proceed reasonably.

I was assured that my name would be removed and I moved on.

But from time to time, I would be informed of yet another social media post in which this person had attacked me.

This person has created a space in which social media followers have – and this I find unforgiveable – trivialized my parents’ death, claiming that the sudden and devastating loss of my parents within months of each other during this pandemic, was ‘punishment’ for my ‘transphobia.’

This person has asked followers to pick up machetes and attack me.

This person began a narrative that I had sabotaged their career, a narrative that has been picked up and repeated by others.

The normal response would be to ignore it all, because this person is seeking attention and publicity to benefit themselves. Claiming that I have sabotaged their career is a lie and this person knows that it is a lie. But if something is repeated often enough, in this age in which people do not need proof or verification to run with a story, especially a story that has outrage potential, then it can easily begin to seem true.

My addressing this lie will indeed get this person some attention – may they bask in it.

Here is the truth: I was very supportive of this writer. I didn’t have to be. I wasn’t asked to be. I supported this writer because I believe we need a diverse range of African stories.

Sabotaging a young writer’s career is just not my style; I would get no benefit or satisfaction from it. Asking that my name be removed from your biography is not sabotaging your career. It is about protecting my boundaries of what I consider acceptable in civil human behavior.

You publicly call me a murderer AND still feel entitled to benefit from my name?

You use my name (without my permission) to sell your book AND then throw an ugly tantrum when someone makes a reference to it?

What kind of monstrous entitlement, what kind of perverse self-absorption, what utter lack of self-awareness, what unheeding heartlessness, what frightening immaturity makes a person act this way?

Besides, a person who genuinely believes me to be a murderer cannot possibly want my name on their book cover, unless of course that person is a rank opportunist.

PART THREE

In certain young people today like these two from my writing workshop, I notice what I find increasingly troubling: a cold-blooded grasping, a hunger to take and take and take, but never give; a massive sense of entitlement; an inability to show gratitude; an ease with dishonesty and pretension and selfishness that is couched in the language of self-care; an expectation always to be helped and rewarded no matter whether deserving or not; language that is slick and sleek but with little emotional intelligence; an astonishing level of self-absorption; an unrealistic expectation of puritanism from others; an over-inflated sense of ability, or of talent where there is any at all; an inability to apologize, truly and fully, without justifications; a passionate performance of virtue that is well executed in the public space of Twitter but not in the intimate space of friendship.

I find it obscene.

There are many social-media-savvy people who are choking on sanctimony and lacking in compassion, who can fluidly pontificate on Twitter about kindness but are unable to actually show kindness. People whose social media lives are case studies in emotional aridity. People for whom friendship, and its expectations of loyalty and compassion and support, no longer matter. People who claim to love literature – the messy stories of our humanity – but are also monomaniacally obsessed with whatever is the prevailing ideological orthodoxy. People who demand that you denounce your friends for flimsy reasons in order to remain a member of the chosen puritan class.

People who ask you to ‘educate’ yourself while not having actually read any books themselves, while not being able to intelligently defend their own ideological positions, because by ‘educate,’ they actually mean ‘parrot what I say, flatten all nuance, wish away complexity.’

People who do not recognize that what they call a sophisticated take is really a simplistic mix of abstraction and orthodoxy – sophistication in this case being a showing-off of how au fait they are on the current version of ideological orthodoxy.

People who wield the words ‘violence’ and ‘weaponize’ like tarnished pitchforks. People who depend on obfuscation, who have no compassion for anybody genuinely curious or confused. Ask them a question and you are told that the answer is to repeat a mantra. Ask again for clarity and be accused of violence. (How ironic, speaking of violence, that it is one of these two who encouraged Twitter followers to pick up machetes and attack me.)

And so we have a generation of young people on social media so terrified of having the wrong opinions that they have robbed themselves of the opportunity to think and to learn and to grow.

I have spoken to young people who tell me they are terrified to tweet anything, that they read and re-read their tweets because they fear they will be attacked by their own. The assumption of good faith is dead. What matters is not goodness but the appearance of goodness. We are no longer human beings. We are now angels jostling to out-angel one another. God help us. It is obscene.

#chimamanda ngozi adichie #femimism #nigerian feminism #radfem safe #gender critical #radical feminism #cancel culture #forgot the link oops

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twinklelilstarkey · 4 years ago

Text

Stopping You [Part 10] - Michael Gray

Words: 8.9k+

Summary: Y/N’s recovery from both her feelings and her wound takes a step back after a specific night.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of wounds, a lot of blood, death and night terrors. Emotional cheating. Self-hate (discrediting their own sadness and feelings; hateful inner voice).

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

It has been a total of 24 hours.

Yesterday was a bad day. Both mentally and physically.

Polly tried her best into bringing your mood up, which worked in some way. She eased your mind by telling you that what you were feeling is completely normal, but as soon as you were alone, it was like the whole world was crashing on you.

Over crying so much as hateful questions filled your mind, you were sore at the end of the night. You contracted your muscles so much while sobbing that you could feel your wound pulsate against your skin in pain.

You questioned almost everything about your life before and after Michael left and when he reappeared. Things have changed, not just around his family, but also around you. And that seems to be one of the most confusing matters.

You never cared too much about this, but you can’t help but think about how so many things have changed since Michael came back. From your behaviors to how you function. Everything has changed in some way.

You’ve always suffered with night terrors in your life, ever since your parents left, but they were almost never about Michael. The exception being when the whole Italian/New York mafia situation went down, and Michael got injured. But other than that, it was always you, or anybody else close, that would die.

Never Michael.

You want to know what could’ve possibly awaken those thoughts and that part of your brain that makes you think like that. Could it be because you now connect him to something bad in your life? Or that when he came back, he had-

No, you’re not going there. It’s useless. It will cost you nothing pain, and it won’t grant you any answers. Might as well push that away and live your life.

Or at least try.

You bring your hot mug back to your lips and take another sip of your tea, letting your eyes fall to the ground.

Polly believes you could talk to him. Tell him about how you’ve been feeling lately. But, honestly, for what? To say that you’re falling right back in love with him just to later be thrown in the face that he does not love or feel anything for you anymore.

He. Is. Getting. Married.

It would just be simply ridiculous to do such a thing.

He doesn’t feel anything for you and that’s okay. All he feels is pity and maybe he got a little scared over you being shot, but that’s it. There are no feelings attached, no romance. No nothing. Just simply… a connection through pain, which awoke lost and forbidden memories.

Maybe this could just be your pride talking over your heart but, you just can’t believe that you’re letting yourself fall so easily. After so long of crying over him and overworking yourself to become a Peaky Blinder and just- not worry about anything in your demolished love life. All of it going to the trash because… You caught feelings for him again?

It’s disappointing to say the least.

Today, you awoke as soon as the sun made its way into the living room and since then, you haven’t done much. You walked back to your room after getting yourself a warm drink and sat by the window staring at the green grass of the neighbors’ house like it’s the most entertaining thing in the world.

A book is resting beside you. You have read a few good pages, but you can’t bring yourself to read more than 20 at a time.

Your mind is too heavy.

Voices coming from downstairs make you look away from the window and up to your door. You try your best to identify them as soon as you find them familiar.

You can hear voices and the laugher of Lizzie and Arthur. Which is awfully strange.

You scowl at the sound, and the soft patter of quick feet running around the house squeezes your heart. The kids are here too.

You rise from your seat and walk across your bedroom to the door. You open it softly and the sound of everyone’s voices is now louder. Confusion is the most prominent emotion you can feel right now, but you can’t help but welcome it better than any other one you’ve been feeling lately.

While walking down the main stairs silently, a soft gasp is heard over the loud voices. Ruby’s.

You smile at her as she spots you walking down the stairs and she quickly let’s go of her mother’s hand to run towards you.

As you’re distracted swallowing down the jab of pain at your middle while leaning down to grab her, Polly’s eyes meet you. The smile in your face is almost like a warm hug in the winter. She could get used to this sight forever.

“Look who came back from war,” Ada jokes as she spots you.

She walks towards you and her arms wrap around you as soon as you’re close enough. You lean towards her, even with Ruby on your hip, and she squeezes you in closer.

“I was so worried,” She tells you, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You pull away from the hug with a small smile and she gives you a wide one in return. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her. She had left back for London not long before the whole event happened. You honestly didn’t expect to see her this soon.

As Ada moves back, everyone’s attention goes over to you. Everyone, or at least, almost everyone pulls you into a hug, sharing their words of how grateful they are from knowing that you’re still breathing.

You know they had visited you back at the hospital when you were still asleep, but nothing compares to actually seeing you move like nothing had happened. Arthur’s words, not yours.

Talking about Arthur. He was awfully apologetic while you two hugged it out. You believe he must have blamed himself for what happened, but you were quick to take that idea off his head.

You’re not about to see anybody else beating themselves for something out of their reach. Unless that’s you, of course.

Tommy and Arthur, not even 20 minutes into stepping in Polly’s home, excuse themselves and leave off to work.

The crowd in the living room doesn’t consist in much more people. Both Ada and Lizzie, and of course the kids, stayed behind and took a seat on the couch. The kids surrounded you as soon as you all sat down, while the women in front of you were distracted on talking about whatever, or rather, whoever worth of gossiping.

You listen to some of their words while being continuously pulled into conversation by Charlie as you let Ruby sit next to you, leaning to your side.

Karl is sitting closer to his mother, but looking at you and joining the conversations, nonetheless.

“What about you, Y/N?” Ada asks as she sips her tea.

“What about me?” You ask confused, obviously having no clue on what she’s on about.

“We were talking about weddings,” Lizzie explains, “Sharing our opinions on what is the best wedding. And Ada asked if you have anyone in your mind as your future husband?”

Her tone is playful more than anything. Both Lizzie and Ada expect a disgusted scowl or a roll of your eyes as an answer, but Polly can’t help but tense up against her seat at the question.

As innocent as this conversation was, it was more than powerful to push you back into your inner darkness.

“Not that I know of.” You answer, trying to mimic Lizzie’s tone.

“Oh, come on. You don’t find any man attractive?” Ada asks, putting her cup down beside her, “Not even one?”

You shake your head slowly and she stares at you with half closed eyes, almost as if she has a suspicion of some sort about your feelings towards any male presences.

“There has to be someone,” Lizzie agrees with Ada, “It’s been… what? 3 years?”

You shrug, fighting your urge to correct her since it won’t do you any justice, and the two women share a look as Polly watches all the action unfold.

“What about Finn?”

Oh god, you almost gagged right here.

Ada laughs under her breath at your disgusted yet shocked look and shakes her thoughts of that couple even be slightly real, away.

“God.” Polly scoffs out loud, making every woman rip a slight smile.

“What’s so wrong about my baby brother?” Polly asks, hands over her hips, playful grin on her face.

“Nothing is wrong,” Polly explains, “They would just be the most chaotic couple to existence. Can you imagine?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“They would burn down the church right at their wedding,” Polly jokes making both Lizzie and Ada laugh, “Probably even when saying their vows.”

There’re a few seconds of silence as the women let their giggles die down.

“Where is Finn?” Lizzie asks curious.

“Oh, Tommy has been making the boy work double the shifts now, for some reason.” Polly answers, “I don’t understand why, but they changed a lot of his shifts since their last meeting.”

“There was a meeting?” You ask confused.

Polly looks over at you.

“Yes, there was. It was only between Tommy and some of the men.” She answers with a short nod, “Nothing too important was talked about, I’m sure.”

You nod at her a little bit unsure and Charlie is quick to grab your attention back to him. He pulls you by your sleeve to look at him and he starts showing you his new toy horse, again.

You feel like you’ve seen that horse a thousand times, now.

Another conversation restarts between the women and you lean back on the couch, letting Ruby continue to play with your gold necklaces as Charlie talks his heart out about the horse that his dad gave him.

Your mind is constantly somewhere else. But this time, it focused on work. Mainly, on what the meeting could’ve possibly been about. As if any meeting with just the men was ‘not important’. They always have the most interesting meetings.

And with that train of thought, hours go by.

You were so distracted by listening to the women beside you laugh and talk, or just with looking down at the kids, that you didn’t even notice the time pass.

Your mind is still on that damned meeting, but you don’t let it get the best of you. You’re sure that the information will eventually reach you. In one way or another.

Three knocks are heard from the front door, and only Polly stands to open it. Nobody thinks too much of it. Everyone knew that eventually someone would come and pick up Ada, Lizzie and the kids.

It’s soon to be dark out, they must be almost leaving now.

“I’m sorry that we’re late.” A familiar voice sounds from the door.

Ada freezes and at the same time she looks up at you, you look up at the door. Not even 5 seconds later, Michael enters the house, followed by, of course, Gina. His blue eyes travel to the couch in the living room, and as he finds you, you’re already looking down at Charlie.

Your hand rests against Charlies’ head, smoothing his soft hair between your fingers, detangling it softly.

He forces his gaze to go back to the blonde behind him and his mother closes the front door behind them.

“Go sit. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go make more tea.” Polly says, voice strong, not as soft as it was previously.

Ada’s and Lizzie’s eyes stay on both Michael and Gina as the couple stands in silence. They don’t find the women’s gaze as nothing more than their way to look at guests before exchanging some welcoming words, so, the tense air and shock just came unnoticed.

“Oh, hi Michael” Ada says, standing on her feet. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

She gives her cousin a quick hug, in which he hugs back, but her eyes quickly fall on the blonde.

“And who are you?” Ada asks softly.

“Michael’s fiancée, Gina” She says with her American accent, extending her hand towards the other family member she hasn’t heard of before.

Ada shakes her hand, feeling slightly confused and shocked with her words, but, just like anyone else in this room, she’s quick to hide her emotions.

“Please, sit. I don’t want you standing all night.” Polly says to the new guests, from the kitchen door.

Michael is the first one to move towards the couches. You don’t dare to look up at him and he notices, fighting his own urge to start a conversation.

Your heart quickens the closer he gets to you and Charlie looks up at him, probably recognizing his face somewhere.

“Charlie, honey, scoot over a little.” Lizzie tells the boy.

The boy in front of you nods in response and takes his eyes off Michael. He stands on the couch and carefully steps over your lap and sits on your other side, by the arm of the couch.

Michael takes his seat next to you and you hold in your breath as your arms rest completely against one another. Lizzie moves a bit to the side and Gina sits beside her fiancée, who has his attention somewhere else.

“How are you?” Michael whispers down at you and you still don’t look up.

“Good.”

Your tone is cold and distant, which he finds extremely strange and awfully uncomfortable.

The couch is surely not large enough for 4 people, but you and Michael are having it worse than anyone else seated down on it. Lizzie and Gina have at least a few inches between themselves, while you and Michael are almost completely leaning against one another, trapped between Gina and Charlie.

Michael’s hands rest over his lap as he hears the awfully awkward conversation between the women start, not finding it at all surprising that you are paying them no absolute attention.

Ruby lets go of your necklaces for the first time and looks down at your hands.

They’re slightly sweaty over the presence of the man beside you but she pays them no mind, grabbing onto them as she eyes the expensive jewelry, surely something she loves a lot about you.

Polly comes back not too long after, and she’s quick to serve everyone another cup of tea.

You refuse any more, since you feel like you’ve already drank too much and explode your own bladder if you keep on going. And as your hand lifts to dismiss the tea from Polly, Ruby catches it.

You smile a bit at her and Michael grins slightly at the sight of the small girl being so interested in your hand. You let her twist the rings on your fingers and her gaze moves up at Michael.

His grin seems awfully contagious to her since she ends up smiling shyly at him as she continues to hold your hand up. As they do their staring contest, you look over at Charlie, who entertains himself and his mind with his new, and very loved, horse.

You sigh softly as your heart continues to beat quickly against your rib cage and you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re anxious about Michael or is it just his presence that is making you react like this.

“Have you taken your pain meds?” Polly asks.

You look up quickly as you notice that the question must be for you and a shiver runs past you as everyone’s eyes fall on you, even Gina’s.

“I will when I go to sleep.”

She gives you a disapproving look and you give her a grin in return.

“It helps me sleep.” You justify, and she sits back in her chair.

Michael grins at the exchange of words and your stubbornness and Ada notices it before continuing with her conversation.

Ruby rests your palm against hers and starts comparing both sizes.

You chuckle at her and as your body jumps at the laugh beside Michael, he looks down at Ruby to see what made you react. The small girl looks up when sensing his eyes on her and as Gina joins the conversation between the other women, Ruby extends her other hand at Michael, holding it upright.

He looks at her confused and you notice.

“She wants to compare your hand to hers.” You explain in a low whisper.

He takes his hand from his lap and extends it to her. His hands are surely bigger than yours, and that seemed to shock the small girl.

You smile as she lays her hand over his with widen eyes and Polly looks up from her tea at you, mind still on the conversation she started.

Her heart swells up at the sight. You and Michael smiling down at the girl sitting on your lap as she holds your hands up and compares them to hers. She can’t hear what you say over the loud voices and from being across the room, but she sees you saying something to Ruby, making her nod.

Michael’s smile widens at the small girl and you look up at him quickly, stealing a look before you get caught, which you don’t, not by him at least. Polly surely did, but she doesn’t say or do anything.

It’s so obvious that you still feel something for him, at least for her. But Michael seems to be unreadable, sometimes. It’s hard to figure anything out.

Gina stares at Polly while grinning at what Ada says and finds her staring at her son, she follows her gaze and clenches her jaw. The urge to roll her eyes feels stronger than her, but her bottled up rage triples at sight of you smiling.

Ruby takes her hands off yours quickly, shyly putting them close to her chest. You continue to smile down at her and as you and Michael try to retreat your own hands, she holds on to them.

Her actions are innocent, purely curious on the size of your hands, but she still leans both of your palms together, still holding them upright.

You and Michael don’t give that much of a reaction as Ruby tries to align them perfectly at the base of your palms and see the size difference from the top of your fingers.

An idea pops in your mind as your hand rests against Michael’s, and as Ruby pulls back to check the difference after so much adjusting, you slide your palm against Michael’s, so your fingers align right at the same height.

Michael chuckles at the confused look on Ruby’s face and she smiles at the contagious sound.

But as soon as the small girl notices what you’ve done, she sends you a glare, making the two of you laugh at her.

Your conjoined laughs catch everyone’s attention for a quick second and Gina doesn’t even care to take a second look. Ada smiles as she sees Ruby readjusting your palms, and, this time, it’s Michael who moves his hand, almost making his fingers only lay over half of your palm.

Ruby glares at him too and you two laugh, again.

“Alright, we’ll stop.” You tell her.

Ruby retries, but this time she has a tactic. As she makes sure that you are aligned perfectly, she holds both your and Michael’s thumb and force them to rest against the other’s back of the hand.

She leans back and stares at the difference between your hands, now happy with her achievement.

You two let her stare at the size difference with her big wide eyes, but something interrupts the sweet moment.

“Michael, honey.” Gina calls out as the conversation between everyone restarts, “Can you pass me that cup?”

Michael takes his hand off yours and you can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of his touch. He leans forward on the couch and grabs the cup of tea for Gina from the center table, something she could easily get it herself.

You let your hand fall back to your lap and you take a sharp deep inhale, not wanting to be sitting on this couch for any longer.

You let some minutes pass, so you don’t seem like a total bitch, and when feeling ready, you lean forward on the couch, wincing in pain as your body shows to have grown sore over the lack of painkillers and from not moving at all for the past few hours.

Polly’s eyes go over to you at the sound only her seemed to notice, and you look back at her.

“I’m going to bed, I think.” You explain, making everybody get silent and look at you, “I feel exhausted.”

“Need help to find your meds?” She asks, already starting to get up, and you shake your head.

“No, no.” You hold your hand up stopping her, “Stay here. I’ll find them.”

You make sure to sit Ruby on the couch comfortably before forcing yourself up from the low couch. You fight off any sound of pain as you stand on your feet, but your face made it quite obvious.

You really should’ve taken those meds earlier.

You walk to the kitchen, trying not to show any other expression of pain, and everyone’s eyes are on you. Gina stares as you lean against the doorframe to regain your strength, yet she doesn’t feel anything in return. Not even an ounce of pity.

You stumble into the kitchen and look at the main counter, expecting the meds to be sitting right in the middle, just like you left them. But this wouldn’t be Polly’s house if they were.

Your feet get dragged as you take your time walking around to the kitchen.

You start opening every cabinet and drawer that could possibly have your meds, but there are too many to find them right away. Maybe going to bed without your meds wouldn’t be that bad.

You just need to lay down, now.

“Need help?”

You turn on your heels to find Michael by the doorway, already in the kitchen. You look away quickly back to all the drawers and try to hide any type of emotion towards his sudden appearance.

“No, I think I got it.” You answer back.

You continue to look through the many drawers and only after 2 minutes of seeing you struggle; Michael decides to move. He walks towards you and you stand still as he does so.

As he passes between you and the counter behind you, he holds onto your shoulders to make you stand back a little and let him pass. Something that surely made your skin react, but, thankfully, it all came unnoticed to him.

He opens a drawer slightly away from you and pulls out exactly what you’re looking for.

“How did you know?” You ask, curious.

“This is where she would put my meds after I got shot. It’s her drawer from stronger meds.” He explains.

How the hell did you not know that?

You walk towards him as he opens the small paper bag, taking your medicine out and handing it over to you. You take it from his hands carefully and put it down on the counter beside you.

“Thank you” You whisper at him.

You take your medicine in silence as the conversation restarts in the living room, and you try not to cringe at anything that you’re taking. Why is everything so bitter?

Whenever you’re done with one of the meds, Michael grabs them slowly and puts them back on the bag without saying anything.

He slides the drawers closed when done and you start taking the jewelry off your hands, just to start and get your way to the bed way quicker.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and you look up at him.

“No. But I’ll be.” You say sincerely before looking away and taking a step away from him, “That’s what matters.”

Michael notices your hesitation into continuing some sort of conversation, just like your slight cold tone, but he tries his best to ignore it.

“I’m going to bed,” You announce while turning your back to him and making your way out of kitchen.

“Good night.” He says as you reach the doorway.

You send him a tight-lipped smile and walk out, back into the living room. Polly is, of course, the first one to notice you.

“Did you find it?” She asks.

“Michael did.” You answer.

You walk over to her and once close, lean over and kiss her cheek. The rest of the family distracted with something else or some other type of conversation.

Michael walks out of the kitchen and you reach the stairs, after saying a quick good night, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

You jump up the steps with your rings in your hands as you bring your cold and clammy hands to your neck to try and unclasp your necklaces. Your eyes land on Michael’s as you reach the top floor and he’s staring back.

Gina calls his name in a whisper and he looks at her, breaking your eye contact. And as soon as his eyes reach Gina’s, he doesn’t hesitate into giving her a sweet smile.

As he looks back up while walking around the couch, his eyes meet nothing but some painting on the wall.

You’re not there anymore.

(…)

The sound of birds surrounds you, their soft and energized tweeting coming from the trees far away from you and some branches above you, as the warm summer wind hits your body like a warm hug.

You shift your position on the ground, laying on your stomach and looking up at the sky between the branches high up, far, far away from you.

Solitary clouds float over the bright blue sky, almost not shielding any land from the sunlight.

Your exposed back is warm, erupting into chills whenever Michael moves his hand. You close your eyes again and let yourself relax again.

A hand touches the side of your head softly and slowly you feel its fingers start to trace your hairline. You open your eyes, blinking the sunlight away, and look up at Michael.

His hand falls to your cheek as you move and a small smile spreads over his lips.

“Let me sleep,” You whine, and he finally gives you a full smile.

“Alright,” He answers in a whisper, “Sorry.”

You sigh and hold yourself up with your hands, you push your body up on his torso and his hands go to your waist. Not caring over only wearing a dress, you lay yours legs over his hips, straddling his lap while pulling yourself up.

“I forgive you.” You whisper back playfully.

You snuggle into the crook of his neck and his smell hits you like an embrace. The small bit of communication pulled you away from your sleepy thoughts and movements, but you still felt just as clingy and slow.

As you lay back against him, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him with everything in him. You snuggle in to welcome his tight hold and one of his hands stretches over your skin of your back.

You’re wearing a simple black dress, baggy from your waist down, but completely backless.

“Can we lay here for, like…” You pause, “Forever?”

Michael chuckles from under you and leans his head to the side to rest it against yours.

“We’ll get hungry eventually.” He answers, and you smile.

“I’m sure there’s some animals around here.” You continue to play around, smile prominent in your voice.

“I hope you know how to make a fire, then.”

You giggle into Michael’s neck and pull away slightly. His hold loosens slightly so you can move a bit and you look down at him.

“Don’t you know how to make a fire?” You ask and he frowns.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know” You shrug, “Weren’t you like a country boy or something?”

With that, Michael lets out the biggest belly laugh ever, leaving you to smile as he cackles away at your words. Your tone had been obviously playful, but it still made it just as funny for him.

“I lived at a farm. I wasn’t a cave man!” He exclaims, tilting his head to look at you better.

“Sounds the same to me.”

He smiles at you and you bring one of your hands to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. You lean in and give him the softest peck you could. When pulling away, you look at him in the eyes as he tries to pull you into another kiss. You let him, letting your lips rest over the softness of his as you too fall into the pit of slow and lovingly making out.

He sits up in the middle of the kiss and you sit over his legs as he does it. His hands travel effortlessly down your waist to your legs, lifting your skirt enough to slither in his hands underneath.

You pull away and look down at him as you stand on your knees, adjusting your seating on his thighs. You peck his lips multiple times before sitting back and eyeing him.

“I love you” He confesses in a whisper, eyes staring back onto yours, “so much”

“Really?” You ask, serious, leaning a little back and he frowns.

“Yeah…?”

He’s confused, but soon your playful smile reappears.

“How much, again?”

“A lot.”

“How much is ‘a lot’?” You keep going. “Like, ‘a lot’ like the size of a mountain or ‘a lot’ as in…” You think for a second, but he interrupts.

“How old are you again?” He teases about your childish words and you force your smile to disappear, just so you can scowl at him.

“Oh, fuck off” You say to him, “I was trying to be cute here, no need to ruin the moment for us.”

“Alright, keep going then” He says, “The size of a mountain or…?”

“Uhm… The size of…” You try to think, mind completely blank over any ideas. “The size of… the ocean?”

He chuckles at your final words and you grin.

“The ocean.” He says, sure of his words, no hesitation.

You stay silent for a bit.

“Which one?”

“Oh, come on!” He says, completely bored out of this conversation, making you laugh at him, “The biggest one you can think of”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, can you please” He emphasizes the word comically, dragging it, “for the love of God, just tell me that you love me back?”

You kiss his lips over his frown.

“You’re so romantic.” You comment sarcastically.

“I know.”

You smile at him and decide not to give in just yet. The boy can suffer for a bit.

Telling him that you loved him now or in 5 minutes won’t exactly make that much of a difference.

You stand up on your feet, away from his lap, and he stares up at you while letting out a sigh.

“You gotta earn it.” You say with a playful look, making his frown break slightly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You nod.

You take a step back as he stands up and your smile doesn’t disappear at all as you move away from him. Every step forward from Michael is a step back for you, making his urge to get to you bigger.

And soon, the running around starts.

You laugh as you run from him, sometimes feeling his fingers graze over your arms, making your heart beat faster with the adrenaline.

The tall weeds slap the skin of your exposed legs softly, tickling you as you ran away from your boyfriend. The scenery in front of you motivates into keeping on running, the summery flowers all open and colorfully staring up at the sky.

All you hear is your soft steps over the plants and the birds, it gives you peace. You can still hear Michael running behind you.

You let out a giggle as he’s about to touch you and out of nowhere, it stops.

The warm breeze lifts into a cold one and you look around confused.

You know that the weather can be unpredictable, but this is too radical for it to make sense.

Your hands start getting cold rapidly and soon your body is enveloped into complete body chills, your dress being nothing but useless when it comes to make you stay warm.

The breeze goes from cold to freezing in the matter of seconds, leaving you nothing but panicked.

You feel lightheaded and short of breath and as you try to warm yourself up with your own arms, soon you realize… You can’t feel your own palms touching your skin.

The sunlight fades as clouds fly their way in to color the skies a dark grey and you stare up.

You’re in a dream.

You’re dreaming.

You look over your shoulder at Michael to find him just as confused just a few steps away. He must have stopped running right as you did. But his skin, is not reacting like yours. His exposed arms, from the folded sleeves are not reacting to the cold in chills. It’s like it’s not affecting him.

He’s not the real Michael.

“What’s happening?” He asks you.

“I don’t know” You lie. You know exactly what’s happening.

Your dream is becoming a nightmare.

You look around as the wind gets harsher and your heart starts to beat more violently, just like your shortness of breath forces you into panting your way to find your peace again.

You step closer to Michael and cup his face.

He stares back at you still with his confused eyes and you kiss him. Your lips touch his and his hands come to rest over your waist as the wind continues to come at full force towards you.

Your hands feel numb, not being able to feel the texture of his suit, just like you had felt a few minutes prior. But you feel his hands, the way they rest on your waist, warming your skin under the violent and freezing wind.

“I love you,” You tell him as you pull away.

You open your eyes and you’re met with Michael’s pale face. His eyes are empty, with absolutely no light or sign of life.

You caress his cold cheeks with your thumbs, and you notice blood over his bottom lip. His hands had fallen a second ago from your waist, and you already miss his familiar warmth.

You bring your finger to wipe the blood away carefully and notice that it’s all over his mouth, coloring his white bottom teeth.

A small trail of blood starts falling off his nose and soon from his ears as well, slowly coloring your hands into the color red.

Red, hands completely filled with deep red, now that you try and wipe it.

Michael falls onto his knees and you do the same, holding him close to you even though it’s just his corpse. He’s cold and his hold is not even there anymore. His arms are by his sides as his head rests over your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him, and the wind becomes more and more violent.

You force your eyes closed and let it take you too.

You open your eyes, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth. You’re not panting anymore, but your heart is beating quickly.

You try to sit up, but a sudden jab of pain hits you. You gasp and wince in pain but still bring yourself to do it. A sob escapes your mouth too right as you’re able to sit upright.

Your face feels wet and cold in the air of the room. You must have been crying before you woke up.

You whine in pain as you bring yourself to turn on the light beside you and as the warm yellow light illuminates the room, all you see is blood.

Your own blood, spread around your white shirt and white sheets, painting your hands just like in your dream.

“Pol-” You try to call out, but your voice breaks in a sob as pain runs through you.

You sob into the empty and silent air and try it again.

“Polly!” You sob out loud, hoping that that was enough to awake her if it’s late enough for that.

You wait a few long seconds for any sound coming from the hallway or stairs, but nothing.

“Polly!” You try to scream louder.

Polly holds her hand up to shut up Gina and the room falls silent. Michael leans forward from the railing of the stairs and looks at his mom confused; arms still crossed over his chest.

“Poll-” You cough.

Michael, before Polly could even get up, makes his way up the stairs and runs down the hall, trying his best to be fast enough to get to your room.

Your door swings open and you continue to sob as the lights are turned on.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You sob to whoever is at the door, staring down at your hands, “I-I, I woke up and…”

Michael shakes his shock away at the sight of your bed all bloodied, just like your hands, and walks towards you. His eyes fall to your shirt and notices from where your blood is coming from, your wound.

“Mom!” Michael shouts while looking up at the door.

Your ears start to buzz as panic starts to set in in your system and two hands move yours away from your eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice repeats and you sob helplessly.

Michael sits in front of you in the bed and brings you close to him, ignoring that he’s now being covered in blood as well.

He makes you rest your hands on his shoulders so that they’re away from your eyes and starts to unbutton some of the buttons of your shirt.

Polly finally gets to the door and the sight is absolutely terrifying.

“She ripped stitches. I think.”

Polly forces herself to walk to the bed and to help Michael check your wound. He continues to unbutton your shirt with one hand only and he’s quick to rip the bandage off.

You sob in pain as he does it and both him and Polly try to look past the blood and ignore your sobs to see what happened to your wound. It opened, maybe 3 of the 9 stitches ripped.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Polly says.

Michael nods and holds you closer to him, not wanting you to move too far away. Your side rests against his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, while one of his hands grabs the sheets and holds them over the wound.

You sob silently while leaning closer to him and he looks up at your face.

“Hey. You’re okay, look at me.” He whispers at you and you do it, “You’re okay. It’s not too bad. You’re safe. I promise.”

You stare at him in the eyes and he leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re okay” He whispers lower.

You nod as tears continue to roll down your face and he nods with you. Your breathing starts to slow down, and he presses a kiss over your wet cheek.

“I got you.” He whispers against your skin.

(…)

Michael sighs loudly as he walks into the kitchen and he feels exhausted.

“Is the doctor finished?” Polly asks him and he just nods, “And her?”

“Passed out before he could even start” He answers, “The doctor said to just let her sleep.”

He walks towards the sink and he turns on the water, holding his bloody hands under it. The two women standing in the kitchen are silent, watching him wash his hands carelessly while staring at the wall.

“I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” Polly says.

His mom walks out of the kitchen and he turns off the water, turning around to face Gina.

“Are we going to the hotel after this?” She asks softly.

“I can drive you there, but I’m staying here, tonight.”

She takes a deep breath and brings her hands to her head, annoyed.

“Why? She’s asleep. You can visit her tomorrow.” She tries.

“I’ll sleep better here.”

She scoffs.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable?” Michael answers, bringing his hand up to point at his own chest.

“Yes!” She almost screams, “You are unbelievable! And you want to know why?” She asks, “Because no matter what I fucking do or fucking say, you will always put her before me.”

“Always, Gina? Are you serious?” Michael asks in disbelief, “You’ve been my fucking priority ever since we met, and now because I show some sort of affection towards a girl that is fucking bleeding and crying her lungs out, I’m supposedly putting her before you?”

“Yes! I don’t even know what you had with her before me!” She shouts, “Ever since I step foot into this shit hole I’ve been listening to her name and seeing her over and over again. Do you really think I believe that she’s simply a ‘family friend’?” She air-quotes.

“You want the truth?” He asks, no shouting needed, but he sounds mad.

“Yes.”

“We dated for 4 years, almost 5. I ended our relationship when in America.” He answers and Gina stands silent, “See? I can tell you the truth when you ask nicely.”

“And if you broke up why do you still like her?” She asks, ignoring his hateful tease at the end of his sentence.

“You have to be joking-”

“Are you going to say that that’s a lie?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, “Let me give you some of my truth, Michael. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you two went through, or if you were in a good relationship or not when with her, but you broke up. I don’t care why, but you did. And there was a time when you chose me over her. That’s why you proposed, right?”

Michael doesn’t answer her.

“So, please, for the love of God, stop being a child and move on with your life. You’ve been mopping around her, touching her all the time as if you’re dying to do it at every second of the day… Even if she does still like you, you are with me now, not her.” She spits at him, “Move. On. She’s not yours anymore, Michael. I am.”

He swallows hard at her words and looks at her emptily.

Polly makes her way back inside the kitchen, acting as if she didn’t hear a thing, but that seems to not scare off Gina from continuing.

“Are you even listening to m-?”

“I am.”

“Then say something, Michael.” She scolds, “Is it not true, what I’m saying?”

Polly looks between them as if waiting for it to evolve in any way, and simply extends her hand towards Michael, so he can grab the clean shirt.

“Is she your priority or no-”

“Yes.” Michael answers, “Y/N is my priority.” He nods, sure of himself and his words. “Yes, I’m engaged to you, Gina, but I care for her, and she will always be my priority.”

Gina bites her tongue and looks at Michael.

It honestly comes to no surprise. She had just thrown these words at him not that long ago, at lunch. He had just never confirmed it for her, and now… he did. But ‘always’? You will always be his priority? Now, that, doesn’t sit right with her.

They stand in silence and Michael leans back on the counter, finally taking the shirt from his mom’s hands. He thanks her with a look but to no avail because her eyes are not even on him.

“You’re serious?” Gina comments in slight disbelief.

“I am.” Michael confirms.

“What does that mean for us, then?” She asks.

Michael stays silent and the blonde slides off the highchair she has been sitting on, standing on her heels. Her eyes stay on him as tears threaten to swell up at her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” Michael answers truthfully.

She nods at his words and brings her eyes to the ground. She feels disappointed but mostly betrayed. Her eyes are good to show that emotion, but soon, it evolves into something else. Pure anger. Anger over the betraying words and truth, the one that just got thrown around as if it was nothing.

And Polly notices it.

“I think it’s better if you leave, Gina.”

Michael takes his eyes off his fiancée to stare at his mother, who just opened her mouth. He didn’t expect her to get herself involved in his worries, but she did.

“What?” Gina asks, bringing her head back up to stare at Polly.

“You heard me.”

Her eyes travel to Michael in hopes that he would defend her, but nothing. He’s just staring back at her, almost holding the same look as his mother.

He doesn’t want her here. He wants her to leave.

She shakes her head, overcome with emotion, and forces her feet to move. Her palms tingle with the idea of hitting something, or rather, someone, but her eyes fill with tears.

How could have she been so stupid?

She slams the front door shut behind her and the Gray family stand in the kitchen unphased.

“Rather dramatic that one, uh?” Polly asks her son.

Michael doesn’t answer her venomous comment, but that didn’t seem to surprise her. His mother walks around the counter and grabs the cup Gina used for her whiskey, bringing it to the sink so she can wash it.

It’s like this conversation didn’t affect her a slight bit.

Michael feels weird. He doesn’t regret telling Gina anything but the look she gave him spoke more than any of her words could. She felt betrayed by him, and she was holding back so many emotions and words.

He knows that if it wasn’t for his mom, Gina would be screaming at him, maybe even throwing stuff at the walls. Just like she usually does when she’s upset. But she didn’t do anything, she decided to contain herself and not scream or even curse him out.

And honestly, Michael doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that she could be destroying his mom’s kitchen or the fact that she’s bottling up all her frustration and anger.

He thought he knew Gina before coming back home, but the trip only made him and her show their true colors. One can’t stop comparing his newfound love to his old one, and the other obsesses over the idea of power and desperately wanting to overthrow anyone in her way.

Quite a pair, that’s for sure.

(…)

You open your eyes as the lights burns your eyelids open and an involuntary groan runs off your mouth as you’re hit with the morning light right in the face. You turn your head to the side, but you’re met with another window with the curtains open.

“Fuck.” You curse out loud.

You sit up and another sound escapes your mouth, but this time, a whimper of pain.

It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you finally remember why you’re in pain in the first place.

“Jesus Christ.” You comment to yourself, again.

Your bloody sheets are set to the side, right next to your door, and before your mind could even try to process it, you push any thoughts of your nightmare away from you.

You pull yourself up carefully and try to ignore the tightness that you feel over your wound. You’re not quite sure what happened after the doctor appeared, but if you’re still at Polly’s house, it could only mean one thing…

It’s not as bad as it looked.

You walk to the bathroom and the sight that meets your eyes is, just, great.

Your shirt is mostly unbuttoned, bloodied, just like your bra. Some of your skin has been cleaned, but not all. Your face as some blood smeared on it, but it doesn’t surprise you. You remember moving so much when you woke up, it would be a miracle it your feet would be clean.

You throw the clothes into the bin and start cleaning yourself off. You can’t exactly bath over having to make the wound be dry at all times. But you have been able to manage quite nicely. With weird positions, for sure, but you’re able to wash your body and hair quite nicely.

You put on some washed clothes on and make your way out of the bedroom. It must be really early since the house is more than silent.

Before you walk down the stairs, you walk over to the guest’s room just to check. Finn is laying on his back over the large bed, mouth partly open as some light snores escape his lips, making you smile at him.

You take a step back and close the door back up. He must’ve gotten here after the doctor.

You make your way down the stairs easily, and as soon as your eyes land on the couch, you see Michael.

He’s awake with a mug on his hands, eyes on the carpet as he is completely lost in thought. He has a scowl over his face, hiding any kind of emotion from anyone’s eyes, and as your feet finally meet the last step, he looks up.

His scowl disappears and a slight grin appears over his lips.

“Good morning.” You say before he could.

“Good morning.” He answers back.

You walk towards him and he watches you as you carry yourself with ease over to the couch. You take a seat next to him and notice that his mug is still filled with warm coffee.

He extends the mug your way when noticing your interest and you smile, taking it.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

The hot mug burns your cold palms, and you welcome the almost uncomfortable heat into your skin. You bring it to your lips and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You’re sitting close to Michael, sitting on top of one of your legs as you sit looking at him. You’re not wearing much more than a shirt, exposing your legs to him and to anyone in the house, but you don’t seem uncomfortable with your lack of clothing.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks and you bring the mug down from your mouth, licking your lips at the same time.

“Yeah” You nod.

You give him back his mug after taking your generous sips and he takes it back onto his hands.

“When did Finn get here?” You ask him, curious.

“About half an hour after the doctor left.” He answers, leaning forward to put down the burning mug on the coffee table, finding it impossible to drink from how hot it is, still.

You nod at as his answer and while you’re thinking about what else to ask, he speaks again.

“You scared the living shit out of us last night.” He says, making you look back at him.

His eyes are back on the carpet and your chest tightens at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t.” He says, finally looking back up, “It’s not your fault.”

He leans back on the couch and both of you continue to look at each other. The air is not thick as it usually is, it’s light and easy to breathe in. Your looks are both familiar, always taking your minds back in time for a quick second.

Your mind takes you to your dream and soon his pale face reappears in your mind. You shake the thoughts away, right as Michael opens his mouth to talk.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I can make you something to eat.”

You smile widely at him and bring your hands to your lap.

“Are you finally proving yourself useful around the house?” You tease, making him smile back, “I must be in a dream. Since when do you-”

“I’ve always been able to cook” He defends himself.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!”

“Michael, you couldn’t even cook potatoes!”

“Couldn’t!” He says to you, leaning forward to be right in front of you, “Things have changed in my kitchen.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he smiles down at you and he stands from the couch. He gives you his hand and as soon as your palms touch, he pulls you up from the couch.

“Come on, I’ll show you my experienced cooking.” He encourages as you take small, demotivated steps his way, “Do you want me to make you potatoes, just so I can prove my point?”

“No.” You giggle, “Just- Do whatever.”

He turns around and starts walking to the kitchen, letting your hand fall from his as you stay a little behind.

“You know what?” You ask him as you get in the kitchen, making him look back at you, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were”

Michael laughs at your words as you say them, and he nods.

“Oh, why, thank you!” He says enthusiastically, “Aren’t you lovely right as the sun rises?”

You let out a loud laugh and he moves over behind the island counter, looking around the cabinets to look for something to cook for you.

You stare at the back of his head as he walks around and take a seat on one of the chairs.

One could get used to this.

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes @iccyyyybitch @ravennaofasgar @carezzesuigraffi @fernweh-fangirl @hufflepeople @huskyhunny @desertgremlin @fireawayxx @lemur46 @sugarcoated-lame @i-sneeze-to-appease @gabytodd @cococola-cocaine @namelesslosers

If you’d like to be apart of the taglist, let me know.

Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #michael gray fic #michael gray fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #finn cole #finn cole x reader #finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years ago

Text

Periwinkle

Hello! This is a sequel to This Fic! This is part of my Hallmark AU (which also has amazing fics written by @comfyswitcherblanketfort and @jaskierswolf) and this was written for @thewitcherbog’s June weddings event!

Geraskier, rated T, 1.2k words

“I don’t think that shade of blue is a good idea,” Jaskier’s voice rang out through the dining room, “a periwinkle would work better. Be a dear and grab a sample, would you?”

The wedding planner pursed her lips and sent a pointed look to Yennefer and Renfri before turning on her heel and marching back out to her car. Renfri met Yennefer’s eye, a severe look on her face. Jaskier was there, at their wedding planning session, at Yennefer’s invitation. Renfri wasn’t sure exactly what the man had said to get himself invited or why Yennefer seemed to have such a soft spot for him, despite how much they snarked at each other, but if he kept trying to control their wedding, Renfri was going to strangle him.

Renfri had made a grand total of two suggestions, both immediately dismissed by Jaskier as he continued ordering their wedding planner about as if she was on his payroll. Of the three people in the room, the only one of them acting like a stereotypical bridezilla was the only one of them who wasn’t a bride.

“Do you need to be such a diva?”

Jaskier looked toward Renfri, surprise written all over his face, “I…”

Suddenly the happy go lucky man Renfri had grown accustomed to was gone, replaced with one whose face screamed sadness. “I need to go.”

Watching the man rush outside, Renfri heard Yennefer sigh beside her.

“What did I do? I’ve called him much worse things than a diva.”

A frown marring her face, Yennefer met Renfri’s gaze, “He’s… worried that Geralt hasn’t proposed to him because he’s famous.”

Oh, “And calling him a diva probably didn’t help.”

“No, but I don’t think planning our wedding for us was helping much either.”

Renfri looked back to the door, watching the wedding planner come in with the periwinkle tablecloth. It really was a lovely color.

He was a diva. The word rang through his mind, sharp and unpleasant. He had never wanted that, never wanted to be a diva, never wanted to be that guy. The famous guy that no one liked because he was too lost in his own fame. Jaskier had left the business for a lot of reasons, and that was a notable one. So, he had left and restarted somewhere quiet when he would never turn into that guy.

When, six months prior, a whole year after he had born himself anew, Priscilla had walked back into his life demanding answers and outing him as Dandelion, Jaskier had felt everything crash around him. Sure, there were people in town who knew who he was, but he had an unspoken agreement with them all that it wasn’t to be mentioned. Geralt didn’t know and that was what was important. Geralt’s quiet existence would never lend well to the world fame that came with Dandelion, and Jaskier wanted to spend his life with Geralt more than he had ever wanted anything.

Of course, it had been Geralt to answer the door, immediately assaulted by a whirlwind of Priscilla demanding Jaskier come out right that second and explain himself. She had understood why he left the business, had even helped him drop off the grid but he wasn’t supposed to ghost her too.

Up to that point, Geralt had mostly been in the dark about Jaskier’s past. He knew Jaskier was running from something, he knew that there were no scorned spouses or law enforcement looking for him, no children left without a father, and that was enough for Geralt. But suddenly Priscilla was there, rattling on about the tour and the fame and how Dandelion had become a giant mystery. Where had the young star disappeared to?

Geralt had taken everything in stride, accepting Jaskier’s past and Priscillas sudden appearance in their lives with grace and everything had been fine. At first, at least. But then Geralt began to withdraw. Not a lot, not enough that anyone else would be able to notice. But Jaskier noticed, and it was everything he had feared. It made perfect sense that Geralt would begin to worry about Jaskier’s life coming back, the media finding him, putting him back in the news, this time with his new life and family at his side. And of course, it would shed a new light on Jaskier as well, it would expose the man as a spoiled brat, a diva.

Jaskier was so lost in his thoughts, it wasn’t until he had already collided with the man that he realized Geralt was standing in front of him. And that Jaskier had made it home, the walk from the inn to their house only taking a few minutes, a few minutes that passed very quickly when Jaskier was so caught up in his own head.

Geralt’s brows were furrowed, his hands resting on Jaskier’s arms, “Are you okay?” His words were colored with concern and Jaskier felt his heart ache. Despite how less comfortable Geralt had clearly become with their relationship, he was still the most caring man Jaskier had ever met.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier pulled back, freeing himself from Geralt’s gentle grip.

“I thought you were going to be out with Yen all morning?”

Jaskier let out a humorless laugh, “They didn’t want me there.”

Reaching up, Geralt placed a hand on the side of Jaskier’s face, “Hey, what’s really going on?”

As their eyes met, Jaskier felt himself crumble, “It’s just hard, seeing them so happy.”

“Why is that hard?”

Jaskier’s voice was barely a whisper when he responded with a small, “Because we aren’t.”

Despite how quiet the words were, Geralt didn’t seem to have any trouble hearing them. He stared at Jaskier as if he had been slapped, shock written across every line of his face.

“I… don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“I don’t- no, I am happy. Or I was, before I noticed you weren’t.”

Suddenly, Jaskier found himself in Geralt’s arms, wrapped in a tight hug, “Jaskier I’m so happy with you. I never meant for you to think I wasn’t.”

“But… you’ve been so distant.”

“I was… worried I wasn’t enough. That you would want to go back.” All the other worries associated with that thought, that Jaskier would want to leave Geralt, their life they were building, were loud and clear to Jaskier, despite remaining unsaid.

“Geralt what I want is you and our family, more than anything else.”

Geralt pulled back enough to meet Jaskier’s eyes, “Were we being stupid?”

Laughing softly, Jaskier nodded, “Yeah, I think we were.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile contentedly as he spun in circles, safely wrapped in Geralt’s arms.

Yennefer and Renfri’s wedding had been nothing short of perfect. Small and intimate and fun. There wasn’t a thing that was traditional about it, it was the perfect representation of everything that the two had built together. Humming along with the song playing, Jaskier relished in the buzz under his skin. The whole day had been amazing and the romantic in him couldn’t help but enjoy being surrounded by so much love and happiness.

Also, the tablecloths were Jaskier’s favorite shade of periwinkle.

“Hey, Jask?” Geralt’s voice was barely a whisper, drawing Jaskier’s eyes to him.

“Yes, love?”

“Would you marry me?”

Jaskier cocked his head to the side, eyeing Geralt curiously, “Are you proposing?”

“Yes. Quietly, I don’t want to steal the moment.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold back his laugh before leaning in to kiss Geralt, “I would be honored to marry you. And we can tell everyone about it another day.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino @holymotherwolf

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #yenfri #yennefer of vengerberg #renfri of creyden #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

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omgjasminesimone · 4 years ago

Text

Life Goes On

Dakota x MC

Word Count: ~2,300

Now with Follow-Up, The Moments in Between

She doesn’t want to say anything, but eventually she has to. After all, they’re Prom Royalty tonight. There’s no way their absence from the Edenbrook Prom hasn’t been noticed by now.

“Should we head back down there?” Sage asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between the pair.

Dakota’s index finger momentarily pauses in its absent-minded tracing of stars, hearts, and what Sage surmises must be ghosts, based on the wavy lines at the bottom, on her bare back. He restarts the invisible drawings on her hip before he finally replies. “Honestly, I just want to stay up here with my incredible girlfriend. Let’s never leave this bed.”

Sage smiles, lifting her head from where it was tucked under his chin. “That offer would be much more appealing if this was a Queen instead of a hospital bed.”

Dakota laughs, and Sage smiles at her unending ability to make him do that, further entwining her legs with his. She’s no longer worried about what the other prom attendees are thinking about their absence as the teens fall into another comfortable silence.

“That was amazing, Teach.” Dakota eventually says, his lips pressed gently against her forehead. “Thanks for taking that one off my bucket list.”

Sage looks up at him, placing a quick peck to his lips. “I was more than happy to help you get the full Senior Prom Night experience.” She admits when she pulls away.

Dakota smiles at her, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Her brow furrows. “What?”

“….This is probably the worst time to bring this up…..” Dakota begins before trailing off as he looks at her uncertainly.

“What, Dakota? You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His eyes dart to their scattered clothes on the sterile hospital floor before he’s able to meet her sincere gaze. “Can we….talk about death for a second?” Dakota asks.

His penetrating brown eyes bore into her own, and she can only nod.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking about death, a lot.” He begins.

“Why? Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go back to the ICU? Dakota! Why did you go to prom and risk your immune system if you weren’t feeling well?!” Sage asks frantically. She reaches down to the ground for her discarded dress. “I’m gonna find the oncologist…” She mutters distractedly.

“Hey, hey!” He firmly grips her shoulder, his grip firmer than it has been for months now. That calms her a little, and she lets him roll her back over to face him. “Slow down a minute, Sage. I feel…fine. It’s just, …who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow? Or the next day. And we haven’t really talked much about this, so…I don’t know…no time like the present?”

The frantic beating of her heart calms further at his assurances that he doesn’t feel unwell. “Okay, let’s talk about it.” She says, even though that’s the last thing she wants to talk about as she lies naked in his arms.

“Okay. First off, I just want you to know I’m okay with dying. I had 19 good years, that’s more than a lot of people get. I have family and friends who love me.” He pauses here, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss to her lips. “I have you. That’s a pretty fulfilling life right there.”

“Dakota…” Sage whispers, voice already breaking.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. No matter what happens. But….I worry about what happens to everyone else after I’m gone.” Dakota admits.

“That’s so like you. Concerned about everyone else. You’re such a good person, Dakota.” The kind of person who should live to old age, the kind of person who makes the world a better place. Life can be so unfair, but Sage keeps that thought to herself.

“I can’t help but worry. A lot of marriages don’t survive the loss of a child, you know. My parents’ whole lives revolve around me. They upended everything to move to Boston to get me the best medical care. They left their friends, and family. I just…..don’t want them to stop living if I do. Does that make sense?”

Sage nods, intertwining her fingers with his under the thin hospital blanket.

“If I’m gone, will you check on them for me? Not, like, all the time or anything. But just….stop by to visit if you’re in town? I think it would help them, to see you achieve all the life landmarks I don’t get to. Graduating college, getting your first real job,…getting married….” Dakota trails off as tears well in her eyes. “Teach…..”

Sage shakes her head. “I’m okay.” Dakota looks unconvinced, so she forces a smile. “I promise I’m okay. And of course I’d visit, and call when I’m out of town.”

“Thank you.” He says with so much gratitude Sage almost bursts into tears immediately. “Alright, so the other people I worry about are Lennox and Mateo. We’ve been the three musketeers for so long, it wouldn’t be the same with just two. So, I’m gonna need you to keep the gang together.”

“Of course I’d still talk to your best friends Dakota. You don’t even have to ask that.” Sage admonishes.

“They’re your friends too now. Don’t forget that. And as their friend…..please don’t let them wallow in survivor’s guilt, okay? I don’t want them to feel guilty for getting to live in case I don’t. I’m honestly so happy that they’re better, that they’re healthy. Don’t let them forget that, alright?”

“Alright.” Sage parrots miserably. She didn’t know this conversation would be so hard. And if just talking about it is this hard, she can’t imagine actually living it. There’s no way she’s strong enough to do that.

“Okay, so that just leaves one more person I’m a little worried about.” Dakota continues. He brushes away a tear that’s sliding down her face toward his pillow. “You, Teach.”

“If you’re so worried, then don’t leave me.” Sage tries to joke, but now she’s full-on sobbing so it falls flat.

Dakota smiles softly anyway though, pressing another lingering kiss to her lips. She tries not to think about how many kisses, how much time, they have left. “I’m going to try my absolute hardest not to, beautiful…..but if I do….I want you to move on. I want you to get married, and have babies, and live your life to the absolute fullest. And I don’t want you to feel guilty about it for even a second, do you hear me?”

“How can you ask me to do that? Of course I would feel guilty. When I think about walking down the aisle, it’s you I’m picturing standing beside the priest. And when I think about starting a family, I picture a little girl with your eyes, or a baby boy with your smile. I can promise you I’ll settle for someone else if that’s what you want to hear, but I’m always going to love you. Present tense. Forever. And some guy would just have to settle for being second best. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

Dakota smiles sadly. “You’re young. Right now, everything feels like it’s the end of the world. But ten years from now? You’ll barely remember me, Teach. Life goes on. You’ll love again. I know it. And I want you to.”

“You’re not forgettable Dakota. You’re extraordinary. You changed me, and even if you’re not here, even if life goes on, you’ll go on with me. I’ll think about you every day.” Sage swears.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Sage.” Dakota says, tone full of forced levity.

“I’m not.” Sage insists.

“That is something I worry about, you know. Something most people who are dying worry about. Being forgotten. Just…ceasing to exist, disappearing off the face of the Earth.” Dakota admits.

“That’s not going to happen to you. Me, your parents, Lennox, Mateo? We wouldn’t let you just…fade away. We love you. I love you. Present tense. Remember?”

Dakota smiles, and as usual, her heart flutters. “I love you too Sage. So much.”

“…can we talk about something happy now? I think I cried off all my makeup.” Sage rubs under her eyes, and that’s definitely smeared mascara coating her fingers.

“One more thing. I want to ask you for a favor.” Dakota adds.

“Name it.”

“Will you name your first born after me? A namesake, so I’m not forgotten?” Dakota asks. Sage can’t tell whether or not he’s joking.

“You don’t think my hypothetical baby daddy would have a problem with me naming our child after my late boyfriend? The love of my life who I still wouldn’t be over?” Sage counters.

Dakota shoots her an almost offended look. “Sage, you’re telling me a grown man, who is your husband, not baby daddy, in this scenario, is going to be threatened by your long dead high school boyfriend? You can do better.”

Sage laughs, and Dakota can’t help but join in.

Eventually their laughter dies down, and they just stare at each other lovingly in the dim light of the hospital room. “Alright, when you put it like that, I guess I can promise to name my firstborn after you.” Sage eventually promises.

Dakota lifts his pinky, and Sage rolls her eyes, but she pinky promises him anyway.

“Thank you. Now, we can get dressed and get back to prom before your mom comes looking for you.” Dakota concludes.

….

…

10 years later

Sage wakes to the shrill cry of her newborn through the baby monitor. She rubs at her eyes sleepily as she searches for her slippers in the dark bedroom. Her husband starts to stir. “I’ve got him.” Sage offers, and her husband dozes off again with a soft mutter of thanks.

Sage makes her way down the hall and reaches into her son’s crib. “What’s wrong Dakota? Hungry? Need a new diaper? Just want attention and hate when mommy gets a good night of sleep?” Sage asks, yawning as she comes to the end of her question.

She shrugs one arm out of her nightgown and raises her son to her breast. He happily latches on, sipping greedily. “Ah, hungry.” Sage quips, gently running her free hand over the newborn’s mostly bald head.

Once he’s fed, Sage gently deposits Dakota back in his crib. She’s just started to swaddle him in his blanket when she’s startled by a pair of warm arms wrapping around her from behind. As her surprise abates, she leans back into her husband’s embrace. “I told you I had him.”

“I know. But I got lonely without you.” He admits, pressing a kiss to her neck.

Sage tssks. “So needy. You’re so used to having all my attention, but now you have to share with little Dakota here.”

Her husband reaches one arm into the crib, and the infant happily grips his father’s index finger. “If I have to share you, I’m glad it’s with DJ here.”

Sage’s brow furrows. “DJ?”

“Dakota Junior, or DJ. It’s going to get confusing having two Dakotas around here, so he needs a nickname.”

“What’s wrong with Little Dakota?” Sage asks.

“Babe, I doubt he’s gonna like being called ‘Little’ once he’s past ten.” Dakota insists.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made me promise to name my first born after you.” Sage teases.

“Hey, we both know I wasn’t expecting to be around.” Dakota retorts playfully.

Sage turns away to face Dakota, smiling as she drapes her arms around his neck. “Well, you can’t predict a medical miracle. Cancer didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“Don’t jinx me.” Dakota complains, but he’s obviously not that upset because he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“Babe, you’re more likely to get struck by lightning then get cancer again after ten years of remission.” Sage insists.

“Still, better safe than sorry.” Dakota insists.

Sage rolls her eyes, but she obediently turns around and softly taps her fist against the wooden railing of their son’s crib, ‘knocking on wood’. Dakota can be so superstitious, but his many endearing qualities outweigh her annoyance with his superstitious ways.

The new parents both stare into the crib, watching the baby coo and gurgle. “He’s really something isn’t he?” Dakota breathes out softly.

“A miracle.” Sage adds.

“I could watch him all night.” Dakota insists.

“But you shouldn’t, because you have a big day tomorrow.” Sage reminds him.

“You mean we have a big day tomorrow.” Dakota corrects.

“It’s your movie. I’m just going to help with the casting.”

“It’s our movie. I’d never be able to tell our love story without my muse.”

Sage smiles, rising up on her tip toes to press a gentle kiss to her husband’s lips. “A romance for the ages.” She whispers against his lips when she pulls away, just barely.

Dakota nods, tangling his fingers through her’s. “You’re everything to me. When I was sick, when things got hard, you gave me something to fight for.” Dakota insists softly.

Sage smiles, she never gets tired of hearing that. “I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you.” Dakota insists. He tugs her towards the door. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

Sage hesitates, looking into the crib. “I know they say we shouldn’t start bed sharing until Little Dakota is older……but how can anyone expect me to be away from him all night?”

Dakota smiles fondly. “Well, they let us take him home from the hospital, so we’re in charge now.” He makes his way over to the crib, resuming the swaddling.

“That’s too loose Dakota. Here, let me show you.” Sage demonstrates her perfect swaddling technique for her husband.

Dakota scoops up his little namesake when she’s done. “Got it. Thanks, Teach.”

….

…

A/N: With Every Heartbeat made me sad, so I choose to live in this Alternate Universe where Dakota Winchester makes a full recovery and he and Sage get the happy ending they deserve.

#with every heartbeat #weh #dakota winchester #dakota x mc #choices fanfiction

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