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prettyboykatsuki · 4 months

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— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

#bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #gale x reader #shadowheart x reader #karlach x reader #lae'zel x reader #writing tag #waah. i love them all

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nicoline1998enilocin · 10 months

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''Nice to meet you, Alpine!'' | Part II

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Vet!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.9K

SUMMARY | Bucky quickly fell in love with his new feline friend, Alpine, but he also fell hard for the wonderful vet who took care of her. After their first date, they were never apart for more than a few days and started a wonderful life together. Thanks to Alpine, they would have the greatest love and are thankful for it every day.

WARNING(S) | None.

A/N | Hey everyone, I want to thank you all for the love I have received in part I of this story, I can not even tell you how much it means to me! I am eternally grateful for each and every one of you, and it gave me a huge boost in confidence, thank you all so much!

This was originally only going to be one part, but I have decided to get a part II out there as well! I hope you will all enjoy this just as much as the first part of this little story 🖤

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

When he returned to the Compound, Steve was in the kitchen. ''How was your-'' but before he could say anything he spotted Alpine sleeping in his arms. ''Oh my god, that is the absolute cutest cat I've ever seen!'' he said cooing at the cat. ''Yeah, she is. This is Alpine. Also, I have a date this Saturday, so you better not send me on a mission!'' he said when he walked away, leaving Steve behind with a confused look.

''What do you mean you have a date this Saturday? I'm clearly missing something here!'' Steve said as he ran after his best friend, who was on his way to his room. ''Like I said, I have a date, that's all I'm telling you,'' he said with a smirk on his face as he quickly went into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Steve standing outside. ''But-'' is all he could get out, quickly accepting that he wouldn't get more out of him when he was like this. He returned to the kitchen to find out the sandwich he was making was gone. ''WHO TOOK MY SANDWICH?!'' he exclaimed, and he heard Sam snickering around the corner.

Bucky didn't hear any of it, he was too busy caring for Alpine to care about what happened in the kitchen. He decided he would go get all the stuff he needed for her tomorrow, like a cat bed, toys, food and water dishes, and cat food of course. She also needed to eat now after everything that happened, she looked pretty thin, which isn't too odd considering he found her helpless in a dark alley. ''Let's go find you some food, okay?'' he told Alpine, taking her to the kitchen to find something to give her for dinner.

After rummaging through some cupboards and the fridge, he was happy to find a can of tuna that he could give her, he would get her some proper food tomorrow. ''Here you go girl, enjoy your tuna,'' he whispered while petting her back, she purred while eating and happily ate all of it from a small plate he found. It was gone before he knew it, and she looked a little better already now that she had some food in her. ''You were just a hungry little cat, weren't you?'' he said with a small smile on his face, she was already making him feel a lot better, and he only found her about 5 hours ago.

''What the...'' is what Steve said when he looked through the fridge searching for the can of tuna he had put in there a few days ago, so he could finally make the tuna sandwich he had been craving for days on end now. ''Why does everything disappear in this kitchen?!'' he sighed, and Bucky couldn't help but laugh when he heard Steve complain about his missing food again. ''Not funny!'' he said, but Bucky thought it actually WAS very funny. ''I'm sorry, I took it to give to Alpine yesterday, I didn't have the chance to feed her yet, so I decided to give her your tuna. I will buy you a new can when I go to the store later,'' he said, and Steve agreed with a groan, his appetite for the tuna sandwich now gone.

''Stupid cat...'' he muttered under his breath. ''I HEARD THAT!'' Bucky told Steve, but he didn't care. By the time the afternoon rolled around, Bucky was getting ready to get some supplies for Alpine, but honestly, he didn't have a single clue what he would need to take care of a cat. By then, he remembered that he had gotten Y/N's number, which turned out to be the perfect moment to call her. After all, a vet would know what a cat needs to be able to live comfortably, right? And with that, he got his phone out of his pocket and looked up her contact, but didn't dial just yet. Maybe he could text her instead, so he would look like less of a weirdo.

Bucky: Hi, it's Bucky. I'm sorry to bother you, but I am going to get some supplies for Alpine, however I do not have a single clue what I need... Do you maybe have a list of stuff I need to get?

Y/N: Hi Bucky, you're not bothering me at all! 😉 How about this, I am free today, so maybe I can go to the pet store with you, and if you want you can bring Alpine too?

Bucky: Sounds good, I'll meet you at the pet store, okay? I'll be there in around 45 minutes.

Y/N: Alright, see you then!

He couldn't stop smiling since she suggested they go to the pet store together. He felt like a giddy teenager, and looked that way too, apparently. ''What got you so happy, Barnes?'' Natasha asked when she walked past his room. He immediately got a deep red color on his face which slowly creeped down his neck, he didn't really want to tell her that he's meeting a girl at the pet store. ''Uh, I- I got a cat, and she's so cute!'' he quickly said. ''No way!'' Natasha said and she barged into his room to see Alpine. ''She's by the sunbathing by the window right now. Her name's Alpine, I found her during my run yesterday and now she's officially mine, I adopted her since she was living on the street.'' he explained, and Alpine was loving all the attention she got, purring from the head scratches Natasha gave her.

''I just can't believe how perfect she is!'' Natasha said. ''Do you need help to get her supplies? I can come with you if you'd like?'' she offered and he quickly refused, he DEFINITELY didn't want her there when he was meeting Y/N. ''It's okay, I have a list of basic supplies I need for her, so I'll be fine. Thanks for the offer though!'' he said and hoped she would out of his room quickly, he decided to shower and change before going to the pet store, even though that was probably overkill. After another 10 minutes of head scratches she finally left and Bucky could get ready, but he decided against a shower in the end.

He brushed his long hair and put it in a half bun, letting the bottom half of his hair loose. He put on black jeans, a tight black shirt, boots and a flannel shirt on top, ready to go to the pet store. ''Alright Alpine, are you ready to see Y/N again?'' he asked her and she happily let him pick her up and hold her, so she could get in all the snuggles with him. The way to the pet store went by quickly, even though he did get stopped a few times so people could adore Alpine for a bit. He was still a little early, and texted Y/N he went in already, so he could have a look around. About 10 minutes later, she arrived and quickly found him looking at scratching posts.

''Bucky, hi!'' she said with a soft but cheery voice when he found them. ''Hey Y/N, thanks for your help!'' he said and she leaned in for a hug, she really wanted to know what it would feel like to be hugged by Bucky, just like she dreamt about last night. ''Ah, I see you brought Alpine with you!'' and she started petting her, which she really seemed to enjoy based on how loud she was purring. ''She missed you!'' Bucky said, not wanting to admit he missed her as well. ''That's good, because I missed her too, she's such a sweetheart,'' Y/N said. ''Yeah she is..'' Bucky said with a sigh and a lopsided smirk forming on his face.

''Okay, we need a game plan. There are some basic supplies you need for her, such as a cat bed, food and water bowls, food to go IN the bowl, as well as a cat tree, some toys and ofcourse a litter box.'' Y/N said, and Bucky happily agreed, he just wanted the best for his little friend. ''I already saw a cat tree I liked, and it has a lot of places for her too lie down and scratch her nails on.'' he said, showing her the one he saw earlier. ''That's perfect!'' Y/N cheered, and helped him search out the rest of the supplies he would need. ''I believe we have everything now...'' Y/N said and was thinking. ''Oh, I would just like to get her one more thing, as a surprise. I'm not telling you what it is, so you better not try and get it out of me!'' she said with a teasing glare to Bucky. ''I wouldn't dream of it!'' he said chuckling.

Y/N quickly went back to the aisle where they sell cat collars, and she quickly found the perfect one. The collar was black with little moons and stars, and a moon pendant hanging off it. She returned to Bucky and Alpine hiding the collar, so she could pay for it separately. They went to the register and Bucky paid for all the stuff, and Alpine got some more love from the lady behind the register, saying what a beautiful little cat she is, and Bucky couldn't agree more. ''She's perfect,'' he said and had a smile from ear to ear, he really fell in love with Alpine as soon as he laid eyes on her. Just like he did for Y/N, but he wouldn't admit it ever, to save himself the embarrassment.

''If you go put your stuff in the car, I'll be right with you okay?'' Y/N asked and Bucky agreed, that way she could buy the present without him knowing what it was. ''Can you maybe wrap this up as a little gift? I'm gonna surprise him with it later.'' she asked a bit shyly, and the lady behind the register happily agreed, putting it in a small gift bag with some tissue paper in it. ''Thank you so much!'' Y/N said and she rushed outside to meet Bucky. ''Do you need help putting it in the car?'' she asked but Bucky politely refused, saying she would be a great help by just holding Alpine, and who was she to say no to that?!

''Shall I bring you home?'' Bucky asked, but she refused. ''I'm okay, I only live 3 blocks away, so I can walk there, but thank you anyway. It was good seeing you today, as well as Alpine. I'm glad to see she's settling in well.'' she said and petted her softly on the head. ''I'll see you on Saturday, okay?'' Y/N said and gave Alpine back to Bucky before standing on her tiptoes giving him a soft kiss on his cheek. He immediately turned bright red at the small gesture of affection. ''Y-Yeah, Saturday...'' he said while stumbling over his words, and he watched her walk away with a little extra sway in her hips. ''She's gonna be the death of me, Alpine, I know it...'' he said and went into his car to go back to the Compound.

~ A few days later ~

Saturday finally rolled around, and Bucky was in a very good mood, which didn't go unnoticed by the other Avengers. ''What is up with you today?'' Sam asked wondering what got into Bucky all of a sudden. ''Did you get laid or something?'' but Bucky didn't answer, he didn't want to give anything away about his date. ''He has a date today, but he won't tell me with who, so it must be someone who doesn't live in the Compound!'' Steve chimed in, and Bucky gave a deathly glare to Steve. He REALLY didn't want Sam to know that, because now the teasing wouldn't stop until he confessed who it was and where they're going, so he instead got up and went to his room.

Y/N: Hi, this is maybe a weird question, but what shall I wear for our date? Something fancy, something casual?

Bucky: Something casual is fine, Al is probably going to get her hair all over your clothes anyway 😉

Y/N: Okay, thanks! I'll meet you at the coffee shop in about 45 minutes then

Bucky got ready and couldn't decide what to wear. He didn't want to look to casual, but he didn't want to look overdressed either. He opted to go for a pair of chino's, a white tank top, light blue shirt and a pair of sneakers, his hair put up in a bun on his head. When he was happy with the outfit, he got his sunglasses and keys and went on his way, but not without taking Alpine with him. They decided to go to a pet friendly coffee shop, so he could take Alpine as well. Y/N opted for a simple red dress that ended just below her knees, a pair of black boots, leather jacket and her hair in a ponytail. Her make up was simple, and completed the outfit. When she got to the coffee shop she was the first to arrive so she decided to go in and wait for him inside.

A few moments later Bucky walked in with Alpine, and her eyes immediately lit up with the sight of the pair. ''Hi Alpine!'' she said, and went for head scratches right away. ''Hi Bucky,'' she said in a shy voice when she looked into his bright blue eyes. Bucky complimented her on her outfit and her cheeks almost turned the same shade as her dress, and he thought it was absolutely adorable. They both get their coffee order and something to eat for Alpine, so she can sit on his lap and enjoy the food while the two of them enjoyed their conversation. ''I just remembered I still have something for you, as you know I decided to get you something in the pet store as a surprise, and I wanted to give it on our date, I hope that's okay,'' she said and Bucky couldn't be happier.

''Yeah ofcourse! I have been wondering what it is, so I can't wait to open it!'' Bucky said and thanked her as she gave him the little bag with the collar in it. He opened it and took out the cat collar and he is completely speechless when he holds it, it is the most thoughtful thing someone has ever done for him. ''Uh, wow-'' is all he can get out before leaning in for a hug. ''Thank you so much, this is the most perfect gift you could have gotten! I will put it on her right away.'' Bucky said and happily did so, loving the way the black collar looked against her white fur, the moons and stars reminding him of the evening he found her, and also met the amazing girl sitting across from him.

''I'm glad you love it. I saw it and it reminded you of the moment we met, so I figured it would be a little memory to that...'' she said and suddenly got shy. ''Uh, Bucky? Can I tell you something?'' she continued in a soft, shy voice while her cheeks turned a light pink shade. ''Ofcourse doll, anything!'' he said, and she confessed about her feelings for him. ''Well, ever since you walked into the vet clinic a few days ago, I can't stop thinking about you, both of you actually, and I really like you, Bucky. I was wondering if maybe we could explore if there is something between us?'' she said turning a darker shade of red every few seconds. ''Well, I really like you too, so I would absolutely like to explore what this is between us. And I'm sure Alpine wouldn't mind seeing you more often, either.'' he said with a smile.

When they were done with their date, Bucky decided to walk her home, and they shared a soft first kiss, filled with promises of everything that is to come in the future. They decided to start dating a few months after meeting, and the Avengers couldn't be happier seeing Bucky so happy. ''Hi everyone, I'm Y/N!'' she said as she introduced herself to the Avengers for the first time. ''So, you're the woman that makes this grump act like a ray of sunshine?'' Sam asked, and she couldn't help but laugh at that. ''Bucky a grump? I honestly have never seen him grumpy, so I find that hard to believe!'' she said, with a little blush on her cheeks. She was immediately accepted by all the Avengers, who loved her so incredibly much.

After about a year of dating, Bucky and Y/N moved in together, and Alpine couldn't be happier with that fact. Now she got even more love than she did before, and she would do almost anything to get every last bit of attention she could. Bucky was very grateful he happened to find Alpine on the night that he did, because finding her led to him finding the love of his life. ''I love you, doll,'' Bucky said with Alpine on his shoulder, and Y/N hugged him tightly and cried after they just found out they were expecting a little one. ''I love you too, Bucky. Thank you for showing up when you did, you really turned my life around,'' she said, wiping away her tears. ''And I love you, Alpine, for leading me to your dad. I wouldn't change it for the world,'' she said and Alpine purred against her hand when she petted her.

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n

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waitmyturtles · 6 months

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WELL???? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE THE REST OF MY DAY AFTER THAT????

I Feel You Linger in the Air, episode 11:

I didn't write about episode 10 last week due to life circumstances; I know my dear friends @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm took issue with the ways in which pieces of the narrative from episode 9 were left on the ground. I was feeling basic last week and enjoyed the soapy drama arcs, but I do agree with Shan and NBW that last week's episode was a touch watery and wanting.

NOT THIS ONE.

THIS EPISODE? Y'all know I've been mostly watching older series this year. Of NEW series that I've watched this year? With the caveat that I haven't watched La Pluie yet, this episode 11 of IFYLITA may be the single best episode of a new series I've seen this year. WHY?

Tee Bundit let this story tell itself. No interference. He let Nonkul and Bright take the lift, and tell the script TO US. THEY ARE CIPHERS. They let the emotion of this moment, the MOMENT THEY ARE HOLDING ON TO AS YAI AND JOM, TELL THIS STORY.

MY GOD. THE ROOM WE HAD TO EXPLORE ALL OF THE EMOTIONS.

Oh god! Every time they met together, the controlled intensity, the KNOWING of the time they had left, and still! Yai flirting with Jom in the bed as Jom is drawing his portrait! We coulda had tears! No, Yai just jumped him instead!

Jom sees Yai standing in the garden! Back hug, chin snuggle! These two are ENJOYING ALL OF THEIR EMOTIONS TOGETHER, knowing what little time they have left. They are not leaving ANYTHING on the table in terms of their interactions. They're not gonna sit in the corner and sob! THEY WILL LIVE AND LOVE THE REST OF THEIR DAYS TOGETHER.

That dance scene. The leaning in. The emotion of foreheads touching. The achievement of Jom to get a moment of equality for the house servants, to not work, to be friends all together in one room, to transcend caste and wealth, to be accepting of Yai and Jom's love, Jom coordinating for Yai a moment where Yai can be out and safe, as Jom was in his future life, around people that love them together.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Also, god. The Eaung Paeng storyline. As a mom, I am gritting my teeth and hoping for the DAMN best for EP, because she deserves the best. I do not want anything happening to EP. 1928 -- not necessarily a year I think of as a high point for women's healthcare. Carrying the baby of a man you hate? Probably the worst-case life scenario I could possibly think of.

Shit, y'all, this episode took me OUT. @slayerkitty! I don't easily cry at shows, but I SOBBED.

I'm just blubbering. Best work I've ever seen by Tee Bundit, and I've seen almost all of it this year. Episode 12 will be hard to top; if it doesn't top this episode, I can't exactly blame Tee, because this was an artistic HEIGHT.

P.S. @lurkingshan IS RIGHT. This will TAKE YOU OUT if you're an Eternal Yesterday/Eien no Kinou girlie like me.

#i feel you linger in the air #ifylita #i feel you linger in the air meta #this wasn't meta this was screaming praise #absolute yelping #when dramas HIT they HIT don't they?#THIS SHIT HIT #eternal yesterday #eien no kinou

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chickenstrangers · 9 months

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Time and Grief in Eternal Yesterday

Eternal Yesterday (Eien no Kinou) is an astonishing show. It is one of the most visceral explorations of grief, letting the audience sit with the feeling of it, that I have seen on screen for a long time. I especially loved how it explored the experience of time while grieving.

Grief alters time. It changes your internal sense of time. It takes you out of equilibrium with everyone who is not experiencing grief with you. The world moves on. People move on. People forget. The clocks don't stop despite our pleas. Grief bisects time; events become labeled Before and After. Everything reorients around it.

This disorientation of time is what Eternal Yesterday conveys so powerfully, both in its magical realism conceit and in its technical structure and pacing.

First, I would also like to talk about a poem. @bengiyo also shared a phenomenal poem by Shane Koyczan in this wonderful post about this show which I have been thinking about and listening to again and again (reading by the poet here, transcript here). While I was watching, I had another poem ringing in my head. I think there is something about grief that is often best captured in the sparseness of poetry for me personally, and in that way Eternal Yesterday feels a bit like a poem, and echoes these poems.

Recently, I have been reading Victoria Chang's poetry book Obit, which frames her grief over her mother's death and her father's illness as deconstructed obituaries.

The difference is called grieving. I think this is the space that Eternal Yesterday occupies. It uses magical realism to forcibly extend the period before reality and grief can fully set in. Mitsuru is desperately clinging to the moment of before, when Koichi hasn't actually died yet, because once he leaves that moment he can't go back.

In the moments before the truck driver comes and sees the body, Mitsuru is in a state of denial, an impossible version of events in which Koichi survived the impact and being thrown in the air for meters, even though all the evidence points to his death. He calls his name, expecting him to just wake up. The truck driver's reaction cements the truth of his death that Mitsuru could not even let himself imagine in those first few moments. There's a moment where we can see the flicker of horrific recognition on Mitsuru's face. But then Koichi starts moving again, and Mitsuru is once again in an impossible reality where Koichi can survive as the living dead, a miracle. Eternal Yesterday effectively resets the timeline to the moments before the death becomes real for Mitsuru.

The rest of the story takes place within that moment, but elongates the stage of denial. It takes place outside of time. Koichi's body has disregarded time, the doctor tells them. It is staving off all actual evidence of decay, but it doesn't erase the damage that has already been done and the bruises and cuts remain as a terrible reminder. This really effective element of body horror forces the audience and the characters to sit in a very specific moment in time; this is not a ghost who has cast earthly wounds aside, nor a zombie who continues to decay. Koichi and Mitsuru are trapped in the moment of death, the eternal yesterday. Mitsuru isn't ready to let go yet, and neither is Koichi.

The drawn out nature of this undeath contrasts with how suddenly Koichi dies. Instantaneous (I think again of Koyczan's poem). There is no way for the characters to anticipate this death. Compare this to Mitsuru's mother, who was chronically ill, dying in a hospital away from her son in an attempt to insulate him from grief. But despite her prolonged illness and her distance from Mitsuru, it doesn't seem like Mitsuru was really able to process his loss, just creating a wall around it to protect himself. With Koichi's undeath, they get that extra time together, and maybe that helps in some ways. As @waitmyturtles writes, they get to spend those final moments together, knowingly, intentionally, in a way that Mitsuru only got with his mom after her death when he saw her ghost. The magic gives them back these moments.

At the beginning, it seems as if time has stopped for everyone around them as well, but slowly people start to not be able to see Koichi. They begin to move on, and forget. Koichi seems to have reconciled with this fact: "If you die, you're slowly forgotten. It's normal. The living are busy thinking of other living people." Mitsuru is angry at the thought that anyone could forget about Koichi, and that the signs of their forgetfulness are proof that Koichi is getting closer and closer to disappearing.

This is such a beautiful metaphor for how it feels to grieve someone when the rest of the world keeps spinning. Time has stopped for Mitsuru, but not for all his classmates, even though they cared for Koichi too. It's a cruel truth. Time starts to speed up again as Koichi begins to disappear in front of others, but Mitsuru is still clinging to him.

Mitsuru holds onto Koichi with both fists. There's anger behind his denial of Koichi's death. He repeatedly tries to remind Koichi that he's still alive, gets angry when he's referred to as dead, and when people can't see Koichi any more.

But it is Mitsuru's love that sustains Koichi for this long, and his unwillingness to let go of his memory. It seems like love itself is what keeps Koichi here. Even when he disappears for most people, Mitsuru and Koichi's family still see him. Even after Koichi truly dies, when he stops being a living corpse, we see that his memory does live on in Mitsuru, and in the lives of the other people who loved him. The teacher who sent Mitsuru a photograph that shouldn't exist. Koichi's friends and family continuing to honor and remember him, and staying in contact with Mitsuru.

@gillianthecat writes beautifully about Japanese dramas and the use of place and space. There's a quietness and a stillness often. Eternal Yesterday echoes this, and in some ways turns time into a place, anchoring the drama to a liminal threshold, the pause that allows Mitsuru and Koichi to process what has happened.

Koichi and Mitsuru's story takes place outside of time. The editing and structure of the show also interrupts the linearity of time. Multiple times we are shown the end of a scene, and then shown its beginning scenes or even episodes later. The show revisits scenes, recontextualizes them, like when they get back from the hospital and Koichi admits he's scared that he's a corpse; the teachers in the stairwell we later learn were found in the aftermath of their breakup. Koichi is hit by the truck in the very opening of the show, but we don't see all of it until the end of the episode and the beginning of the next. Through this editing, the show destabilizes time, and calls into question our perception of events.

It also does this with the opening and closing credits. Each episode grounds the audience at the start in a joyful past that the characters can never return to, and at the end in an impossible future that they will never see ("If we were adults, would we be making a toast and drinking beer?"). The show oscillates between these two endpoints, and they put the viewer off balance for what to expect. But at the close of the show, we see the camping scene recontextualized. Mitsuru is alone, but he still has pieces of Koichi with him. The false insinuation of a happy ending is replaced with bittersweet reality.

How long does it take to grieve someone? Does it ever stop? Their teacher is still mourning his boyfriend's death 20 years later. Mitsuru is shown grieving 5 years after Koichi's death. He tells us his sadness never went away. The experience of grief is different with that distance, but it doesn't disappear. The show invites us to sit in a specific moment of that grief, but it shows us also how it continues afterwards.

Koichi's death is drawn out, the stage of denial extended, but eventually time catches up with both of them. Koichi knows it ("My time is almost up"). Mitsuru begins to understand it ("Isn't it just a matter of time?"). The day Mitsuru's home sick, "the time felt too long." The dissonance between this piece of time that they have carved out for themselves and the reality of time's continual passage becomes impossible to ignore.

Koichi lingering as a living corpse gives both him and Mitsuru a bit more time together. Even if it's just a few days, there's beauty in that. Because of that time, Koichi gets to hold his newborn sister. He gets to be a part of that moment with his family. Koichi and Mitsuru get to love each other for just a little longer. They get to say goodbye.

This is a sad show. But it's okay to be sad sometimes. It's okay to explore this sadness is art, in queer art. It can be healing to sit in these emotions for a little while, like Mitsuru and Koichi do in the show. To take the time to process it and connect with these stories.

Thank you to @bengiyo's post and the podcast for putting a new favorite show on my radar, and @lurkingshan and @waitmyturtles for sharing their thoughts and love for the show.

#eternal yesterday #eien no kinou #eternal yesterday meta #japanese bl #thinking thoughts #i have so many thoughts about this show I haven't even touched on materiality here yet #this show is phenomenal I'll be thinking about it for a long time #what is it with grief portrayed through supernatural and poetry for me?#the surreal nature of loss and grief maybe #thank you to anyone who reads all of this #it's a heavy topic but I needed to get my thoughts out

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shmolish · 7 days

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Wait hold on bro don't leave us in a cliff hanger like that 😭

Can w have Longan's POV in the kiss and what his decision)actions will be the next day?

AN: My bad fam 😭

Link for part 1: ♡

Longan Dragon x Reader

Oneshot (2/2)

Warnings: none

-Longing-

What.. just happened?

Mortals always had their odd ways of showing affection... was this one of them?

Pressing faces with one another. It was strange, and yet; they just couldn't help how their heart would beat a little faster.

Love was always a thing that felt so foreign to the Ivory Dragon.

They had no person to love, and they never thought there would be a person they could love.

Though thinking on it now, you seem to be the anomaly.

If you were going to be so open with your courtship now, then why not repay the favor? It would be the polite thing to do, after all.

It was very obvious to them what these feelings were. The feelings that had lingered in their mind for so long and caused them so much distress were all but confirmed by that simple gesture of yours.

《☆》

As the sun slowly rises to signal the start of a new day, so does the rest of the world. Birds sing their cheerful songs, and the morning dew on every blade of grass glisten with each ray.

Also awakening from a long rest is you.

Grogglily, you rub your eyes to see the sun shining as brightly as ever through cracks in the curtains.

Quickly, you get ready for the day and exit the room shortly after.

After a lot of back and forth with yourself, you finnaly get out of bed.

Today was no different, and you could already see Longan sitting at the table with the food prepared. They were always early for these types of things. Not used to breaking habits, probably.

You have a tradition where every morning Longan Dragon and you both meet up and eat breakfast together.

"Goodmorning!" You chimed, taking a seat next to Longan.

They gave a you a nod, though their gaze layed elsewhere. It wasn't any place in particular, really. Just not on you.

"About yesterday..." Longan would say.

What about yesterday? You would think to yourself.

That's exactly when the memories came flooding back.

Maybe they were upset?

You didn't say much. You only sat there, silently and nervously, a hint of pink dashing your face.

Longan abruptly takes hold of your chin and makes you look at them. "Won't you do it again?" They'd ask, a feint smile present on their face.

This level of boldness wasn't something you were expecting from someone like Longan. It took you completely by surprise, and you weren't sure how to act.

So.. you didn't say anything at all.

"You're shy now, but you clearly weren't the other day."

Slowly, they'd bring your face closer to their own until both of your lips met. The kiss had this desperation to it that felt as if Longan had been waiting to do this for a long time.

Maybe.. they had been waiting for a long time.

After what felt like an eternity, the kiss ended. Your face was hot from blush while Longan only gazed at you with admiration.

"I never knew you were able to make such an expression," Longan would say while leaning back away from you. "If it'll get you to react like this, maybe I should kiss you more often,"

《☆》 Fin

#crob #cookie run: ovenbreak #cookie run x reader #longan dragon fluff #longan x reader #longan dragon x reader #longan dragon cookie x reader #longan dragon cookie #longan dragon oneshot #longan x reader oneshot #longan dragon x reader crob #crob x reader #crob oneshot

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howdothoughtscollide · 9 months

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An Unwanted Goodbye

Dazai Osamu x idol!gn!reader

WARNING: mentions of suicide( you should've expected this) and kidnapping, major character death, angst, reader wear lipstick, very brief mentions of chuuya, akutagawa, ranpo and maybe atsushi(?)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Inspired by this post by @soysaucefu, I recommend you read it first.

Here he is again, at the first place that you met. Well, maybe not for you, but it was the first time for Dazai to hear such an enchanting voice that made him stop in his tracks.

The howling wind intertwined with his hair, giving him fluttering kisses of the cold evening and muffled all the bustling noises of the moving vehicles beneath him and the cheering of your fans. Dazai looks down to his phone, which is showing the livestream of your concert, as he spares no attention to watch your performance. You look so lovely and vibrant, singing while the colorful lights focus on your figure, as if you are the only shining star in the night sky. Right, you are his star, the one being so radiant that it hurts everytime he looks at you.

You are the star that deserves all the love and affection of your fans, the one who always stands in the spotlight, while someone like him, only deserves to be faced with all the filth and ugliness of this world, thrown and drowned into the void of the night.

This time, the song you’re performing is quite different from the first time Dazai heard you, different from your usual energetic and exciting style. It is so soft and fuzzy, like being wrapped up in a cozy blanket when it is stormy outside or being able to have a warm meal after a long and tiring day. And, there is also something unusual, that it carry such a …sad undertone, like the fact that you can’t help but feel under the weather while staring out as raindrops make harmonic thrumming against the window, like a lover waiting for their other half to come back after a long trip.

Did you miss him, he wondered, as it has been a long time since he last basked in your comforting scent and encased in your tender embrace. Did your heart ache for your annoying lover, ache for the person who always pranks and causes scandals for you, for the one that makes you face major problems and dangers when his crimes are revealed.

Did you?

Dazai averts his eyes to the vivid stage across the busy street, where you are living with your passion and showing the world your dazzling beauty, one of his arms holding up. You’re looking so small now, fitting into the tiny gap between his thumb and index finger.

So little, yet so far away. Actually, too far that you’re out of where his arms can reach, and he couldn’t protect you when he wanted to, needed to. The memory was still fresh, as if yesterday was when you were kidnapped, hidden in a cold and humid place, and-

It’s all fine now, he thinks. All of that has ended, and now, you’re safe and sound, standing right before his eyes. And, soon enough, nothing can cause harm to you, Dazai will ensure it.

Ahh~, he is such a genius, isn’t he? Who could think of dying while listening to their darling’s sweet sweet voice? Well, how romantic of him~. He hopes you see the message he sent you, you’re his clever darling, surely you’ll understand it~. Dazai smiles to himself as undecipherable emotions swirl in his eyes, his gazes soften when it takes in your image, like wishing to burn the moment into his memory for eternity.

“Stay safe, belladonna.” He says as he embraces himself for the fall.

Eventually, the concert comes to an end, the lights are turned off, people pouring out of the gates and staff moving around to collect and pack up gears.

After changing into your casual clothes, you quickly gather your stuff, shoving your phone into your bag since you can not wait to return to the comfort of your home.

“Y/N!” Your manager called out. “We’re going to a restaurant to celebrate the success of the concert, do you want to come along?”

“No thanks.”You shake your head. “All of my energy is drained by the concert, I’d rather just go home and lie in my bed right now.”

She flashes you a teasing smirk. “Oh? Eager to meet someone, aren’t you?”

You grin shyly, a tint of blush forming on your cheek.

“Then just go, I’ll take care of the rest.” Your manager waves you off .

You mutter a small ‘thank you’ before swiftly making your way out.

The car suddenly stops, disrupting the conversation between you and your personal assistant.

“What’s the problem?” You ask the driver.

He turns his head to face you, a frown appears on his face. “ I’m sorry, but it seems like an accident occurred and is causing a traffic jam. I think it will be long until the road is clear again and we can move forward.”

“An accident?” You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, if it will take that much time, I’d better go and have a look!” You exclaimed cheerfully as you put on your mask and jumped out of the car excitedly.

“Ah! Please wait for me, you shouldn’t go alone like that.” Your assistant is dumbfounded by your actions, and hurriedly follows you.

You weave through the traffic, taking note of a huge crowd before you. “Hm? What type of accidents do you think that requires so many police cars and attracts such enormous attention?”

Your assistant leans on the side of a car, catching her breath. “W-Well, it could be a crazy fan who want to draw attention. It’s right before the concert stage and you’re quite famous afterall.”

You quirks your brown in disbelief. “My fans? How so, they’re such lively and chaotic cookies, I doubt they’d pull off something like that.”

“Ha ha, yeah.” Your assistant laughs before she bumps her head against your back. “H-Huh? Why did you stop all of the sudden?”

She lightly tapped your shoulder, but you stood there, frozen.

It is fully displayed directly in front of your eyes, that messy brown hair, that beige trench coat, and even that white bandage, all dyed in scarlet, all too familiar.

Ah, how can you be so careless and forget such simple things?

The only one who would carry out such silly schemes on you, your biggest and craziest fan. Look, he’s even holding the handmade merchandise that he cherished so much.

You chuckled.“Osamu, wake up, stop messing around, you’re causing trouble for the police. Did you miss me that much? I promised I’d make up for you this week, didn’t I?”

But there were no answers. Dazai is still there, the hands that used to hold you is now so cold, the lips that used to whisper sweet nothings into your ears is now closed and so silent, and the face, the face that used to smile at you warmly is now painted with the color of crimson. Except, it's not the bloom when you tease him, not the lipstick smudge when you kiss him behind the stage, it's the color of the twisted fate, of the bitter farewell which needed no melancholic melodies or complicated words for him to sing it to you.

“You’re joking, r-right? Q-quit it with your little pranks, I-I may actually get mad at you, you know?” Your voice trembles as giggles and giggles pour out of your mouth, not noticing your quivering hands reaching out as a poor attempt to clasp his, just to be interrupted by police officers, or the worried glances your assistant shoots you while explaining the situation to them, or even the flickering of cameras and quiet murmurs of others. Well, why should you, when the sight of your lover alone has the ability to suspend the flow of time and take your breath away, especially now once overwhelmed with red?

You blink, trying to make a clearer view of Dazai.

Yet, it’s just getting more blurry and hazy. What’s covering your vision? What’s making your cheeks feel so warm? Questions echoed in your mind as darkness envelope your senses.

You wake up to the bright and golden sun rays tumbling through the flimsy and translucent curtains. Examining the room, it’s decorated with sturdy and substantial wooden furniture in a welcoming manner, but it’s a strange place, nonetheless.What happened?

“Oh my, you’re finally awaken.” You avert your eyes to the surprised voice of your assistant. “Here, please watch some TV.” She says before running off to announce the doctors and the manager.

You divert your attention back to the glowing screen, broadcasting daily news.

“Yesterday, a famous idol’s partner was found jumping from a tall building in front of where their concert took place. Police say that this could be a suicide but the reason is unknown and still need further investigation. The-”

Your eyes widen, memories start flooding in your head, the red and blue lights of police cars, the yellow and black stripe of the barricade tape, you remembered it all.

“Y/N!” Your manager thrust open the door. “Are you okay? Do you feel dizzy? The doctors will come soon, so sit here and rest for a little bit, will you?”

You nod blankly at her, not even sure about how to answer. Then, doctors and nurses enter the room to check up on you, and police officers question you about the incident. During the whole process, the only thing they received were just nods and shakes, along with dry and simple phrases departing from your mouth, as if you’re a robot that isn’t fully programmed and is learning how to speak.

Your manager is on the verge of pulling all her hair out, a troubled look on her face. You’re still alive and healthy, eating and sleeping like you’re supposed to. But that’s it, other times you just merely glance at the windows, immersed in your own spiral of thoughts.

Before your manager’s hands decide it’s time to go bald, she spots some tuff of light gray hair.

“You come, at last!!!” Is that tears on her face? “You’re his acquaintance, right? Please do something, this is their room”.

The boy was baffled by your manager, dark circles clearly evident under his eyes. “A-Ah, yes, I’ll try my best” He says before reluctantly twisting the door knob.

“H-Hi, It’s been a long time. Do you remember me? I’m Atsushi Nakajima from the Armed Detective Agency.” He seems to be nervous, fidgeting his hands and gluing his eyes to the floor.

“I-I heard that you refused to leave the hospital, are you not feeling well? Ha ha, what am I even saying, you’re sitting right here.” He laughed it off, then a sigh escaped his lips. “I know that you’re feeling distressed and I understand, since he is also someone very important to me. We’re going to hold Dazai’s funeral in several days, do you think you can come?”

Upon hearing Dazai’s name, you whipped your head at Atsushi. He yelped, taken aback by your abrupt movements and your catatonic gaze. If you could see your eyes at the present, you’ll notice how it is devoid of any sparks, like gemstones that have lost its glimmer, like a bottomless abyss where emotions cease to exist. Similar, isn’t it? Alike to his eyes the first time you met, alike to his eyes on that specific night when he concludes there’s nothing in this world to hold him back.

Did he think you are not enough of a reason?

Before those ideas take over you, and before Atsushi could react, you close your eyes. “Thank you, Atsushi. I’ll attend the funeral, you can send the invitation to my manager. Please leave now.” Your voice was calm but determined, leaving no rooms for objection.

After you hear a soft thud, you turn your head to the window again. And this time, you let yourself be devoured by those guesses and assumptions again.

As the unceasing cold and incessant raindrops knock on your face, it breaks you out of the scrambling voices in your head and the numbness of your body.

Ah, where are you again?

You eye the scene in front of you, a gingerbread man pointing at the grave and yelling insults while the staff try to calm him, a boy with choppy charcoal hair coughing and faintly muttering something along the lines of he can’t be defeated that easily. All of a sudden, you catch a glimpse of a short male wearing a brown hat and your legs move on their own before you even give it a second thought.

“Ranpo”. He looks at you with a serious expression. “You know the reason why, don’t you?” It took all of the air inside your throat just to utter those words out of your dry lips. “Why did he-”

“I think you will be the best one to answer that.”

He walks away, and instead of untying the knots, his statement only adds more to the confusing mess in your head.

“Y/N.” Atsushi steps up to you. “Dazai told me to give this to you, so it must be something important.” He opens his arm to reveal something shiny.

Right, of course it’s important, it’s the key to your shared apartment.

Click clack

The fluorescent light lit up your whole bedroom, uncovering the voluminous but dusty merchandise and memories.

The walls are full of posters, with the biggest one being the elegant and cottage themed photoshoot of Dazai holding your hand and kissing your knuckles. The bed and shelves are stuffed with handmade merchandise from a fan petition after they saw the chibi drawing Dazai had of you on him all the time. There’s even a shirt with your face printed out that his yellow-haired colleague threatened to rip off when Dazai wore it to work.

What day is it? Honestly, you can’t recall, you didn’t care to. You take out your phone that was tossed aside since the concert, the battery was concerning low. Well, today is-

One unseen message from Osamu Dazai

Just six words, but enough to make your thumb trembles with fear in order to press on the screen.

For a moment, there was only pure and thick silence in the room, then continual and hollow laughters attempting to take over, just to be absorbed by the denseness of the walls and agonizing sobs and incoherent whimpers.

If death take my hand-

It did, and now you’ve left pieces of you in me that if I tried to pull it out, it would just cause more unbearable pain and draw me with prodigious nostalgia on its path-

I would hold you with the other-

You said we’d clutch our hands and be in each other’s soothing warm if we commit double suicide. You said if we go down, then we go down together. And look at what you did, completely go against your words-

And my love will lead me to you everytime.

Osamu, the dead can’t return, and so do you. This isn’t even funny anymore. You silly, stupid, cruel, heartless, insensitive, bastard, liar-

You can keep crying and crying, until your voice is hoarse and your eyes are heavy. But there will be no one to alleviate your suffering or distract you by making a fool of themselves. No one, not anymore.

A/N: This is my first work, I tried to keep a serious tone but the longer it get the more my goofy side tried to win over. Guess I can't write angst seriously ¯_(ツ)_/¯. Also English isn't my first language, so sorry if there is any the grammar mistakes.

Anyways this is a poor attempt at thirst traps of Dazai falling of a building. You can see that I never watch thirst trap before lol.

Imagine you're crying over your lover's death but your fans made thirst traps of him dying 😐.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x y/n #bsd #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd angst #bsd chuuya #bsd akutagawa #bsd atsushi #bsd ranpo #idk how tags work #thoughts on sleepless nights

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selene-and-the-cold · 7 months

Text

Taking a Rest (OCs, M/M)

First of all, I wanted to thank everybody who commented or reblogged or liked my fic "Taking a Ride". I was truly surprised and happy that you all enjoyed reading about Silas and Albert so much!

And since their business was not yet concluded, I present to you another installment. It can be read on its own, but I'd recommend reading their first adventure "Taking a Ride" first.

I hope to add another part, since the text post Silas and Albert are inspired by actually talked about Silas catching the cold from Albert, and we have yet to see that...

But I digress. So what are you going to read in this fic? Silas makes good on his promise and pays our sick Albert a visit for some TLC. Fluff ensues, and Silas is confronted with... feelings.

There's also a bit of snz and a bare male chest (shocking, I know...).

***

Taking a Rest

Following the exhilarating carriage ride with his dear Albert, Silas woke up the next morning with mixed feelings. It had been most unfortunate that he had had to decline Albert's invitation due to his father coming down to London to talk business with Silas. However, since this nuisance of a meeting could not be avoided, Silas decided to take it on in stride. The sooner he tackled whatever problem presented itself, the sooner he would have time to make good on his promise and call on his poor Albert, who had contracted a chill on his business trip to Cardiff.

Archer, Silas' valet, had thankfully prepared everything so Silas only needed to freshen up and slip into his clothes with Archer's assistance prior to meeting his father. As usual, Silas skipped breakfast, a habit Albert had often reprimanded him for, but Silas usually did not see the point of it - at least if there was no company to take his breakfast with.

He did, however, take the time for a sip of tea, as his throat was quite parched.

The meeting with his father was – regrettably – not as boring as Silas had anticipated. Well, technically, it was always a good thing when conversations were not boring. In this case, however, a boring conversation would have been much preferred, since there had been some irregularities in the accounts of one of their smaller estates and Silas' father had asked him to look into the matter.

It had to be done discreetly, though, since there was a possibility that the estate's bookkeeper was involved. Therefore, they had to avoid rousing the man's suspicions lest it would lead to evidence being destroyed.

It was altogether unpleasant business, and Silas left the meeting with a slight headache.

At least his father would drive up to their home estate in the country that very night, so Silas would not have to deal with any courtesy visits.

After parting ways with his father, Silas set his private network in motion to discreetly gather information on the matter. This meant several carriage rides to various gentlemen of his acquaintance as well as a long stretch of letter-writing in his office, until Silas was finally free to visit Albert, who had been on his mind all day.

~~~~

“I'm afraid, Lord de Lacy, but Sir Albert is not in a state to receive any callers this afternoon,” Barker, Albert's valet, informed him when Silas came round to call on his friend.

Silas' heart sank. Why would Albert have Barker decline visitors? This could only mean that poor Bertie's chill had taken a turn for the worse.

“I understand. However, we arranged a meeting for today only yesterday evening. Could you please inform Sir Albert that it is me who's calling, Mr. Barker?”

Barker seemed to consider whether he was in a position to decline this request. Silas was, after all, a lord. So he finally bobbed his head and said: “Very well, my Lord,” before he left Silas to wait in Albert's entrance hall. While he waited, Silas found himself fidgeting nervously with the brim of his hat, which he had taken off upon entering. Not knowing how Albert was faring proved to be pure agony.

After what seemed like an eternity, Barker returned and if Silas had not known better, he would have sworn that the ghost of a smile had lingered on the valet's face.

“My apologies, my Lord. Sir Albert will see you now.”

Silas followed Barker into Albert's reading room, where he was greeted by a crackling fire, and a pale-faced Albert.

He was outstretched on a chaise-lounge, propped up with pillows and wearing what looked like his sleepwear and the silk, navy-blue dressing gown with paisley pattern that brought out the colour of his eyes so well. A thick blanket covered his legs and chest, and Albert clasped a white handkerchief in his hand, while a cup of tea sat on a side-table next to the chaise-lounge. It was all a rather pitiful sight.

As he saw Silas approach, Albert weakly tried to sit up straighter, but Silas immediately went over and placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Albert, please, don't sit up on my behalf, there's no need...,” Silas began, but stopped himself from fussing, acutely aware of Barker's continued presence.

He withdrew his hand from Albert's arm, and wished things would not have to be so complicated. All he wanted was to comfort the person he... cared about? Liked? Held in great esteem?

Suddenly bewildered, Silas blinked a few times. What exactly was this... feeling spreading there in his chest?

They had never talked about what it was that they shared. It had all just fallen into place one day, so naturally that Silas never had a reason to question or define this new level their friendship had ascended to.

Then again, he had never seen Albert so pale and sick. Had never worried about him so much.

“Thank you Barker, that will be all for the mboment. Please leave us alone and inform any other callers that I won't receive anyone today.”

“As you wish, Sir,” Barker said, then closed the door behind him as he retreated, leaving the two men to it.

“Oh Bertie, you look awfully pale. How are you, dearest?,” Silas asked, as soon as he was certain they were alone, taking off his gloves as he sat down on the chaise-lounge next to his ailing friend. Now that it was just the two of them, all his worry and affection for Albert flowed freely from him once again.

“Truth be told, I have beed better...,” Albert admitted, his usual melodious voice reduced to a weak, rasping, quivery thing. Silas winced at the sound of it. Before he could express his sympathy, though, Albert hastily turned away from him to half-muffle a sneeze into his handkerchief.

“Hehh'ESshhTSsHHtt!! Ugh.. Excuse mbe...”

“Bless you,” Silas offered and gently rubbed Albert's thigh through the blanket. “No need to apologise.”

“Thank you...,” Albert sighed, then sank back against the chaise-lounge, looking thoroughly drained from the effort of turning away to sneeze. “Oh, Sy, I feel truly awful. I couldn't stop sndeezing all day. Mby throat is sore, mby chest hurts from coughing, and mby head has ndot stopped pounding since I got up.”

Silas tsked in sympathy, scooting further up the chaise-lounge until he could rest a hand on Albert's chest. It was warm, yet Albert seemed to be cold despite the merry flames dancing in the fireplace.

“Oh, Bertie! I am sorry you're feeling so poorly... Although I might think the headache was to be expected, since you've been quite tipsy yesterday.”

Albert closed his eyes and let his head loll back against the chaise-lounge with a pathetic sigh. “Please dod't rembind mbe of mby own foolishness... Heh'EsSSHH!” The sneeze was followed by a little whimper and Albert dabbed at his running nose in a pathetic attempt to maintain decorum.

“My apologies,” Silas said with a small grin, taking Albert's free hand to kiss it gently.

“But I've taken your advice, Sy, and have been resting for mbost of the day,” Albert continued and bestowed a tired smile on his friend.

“Very good, my dear. And I would like you to continue in this manner for at least the next two days... We can't have this chill settle any deeper into your bones than it already has.”

As he spoke, Silas's hand travelled from Albert's chest to his cheek, cupping it gently, before Silas leaned down to place a fond kiss on Albert's forehead.

“Mhm... I do believe you are running a fever, too...,” Silas murmured, his lips still lingering on the warm skin.

“I do?,” Albert asked in a small voice, sounding thoroughly disheartened by this news.

“I'm afraid so, dearest. Perhaps we could send for a cool compress for your forehead... Oh and I brought something for you as well,” Silas added, all caring smiles as he pulled a little container out of the pocket of his suit.

“I stopped by the pharmacy before I came to call on you and the apothecary highly recommended this balm to soothe coughs and headaches. It is supposed to be applied directly to the chest and / or to your back, but you have to keep warm and stay bundled up after applying it, so the balm won't cool your skin down too much...”

Seeing Albert's face, Silas suddenly stopped prattling on about the the balm. Albert studied him with an incredulous look, his glassy eyes wide, his face the most earnest Silas had seen him since before he had to leave for Cardiff when they had a hushed, stolen goodbye in the broom cabinet of their Gentlemen's Club.

Had he said something wrong?

“What... what is it, Albert?”

The uncertainty in his voice was unmistakeable and Silas hated being so vulnerable, so fragile. With just one look, Albert had him all flustered and insecure, tearing away the carefully crafted layers of “Lord Silas”, exposing the little awkward boy he was, always in the shadows of his grandiose older brother.

“Ndothing,” Albert was quick to reassure, “it's just... Ndo one has ever brought mbe balms for mby chest when I was sick before. Actually ndo one ever called on mbe when I was sick before.”

“Oh?”

Albert's words took a moment to fully settle in, threatening to make Silas blush. Albert had admitted this so casually, so calmly as if it was the most common thing in the world. Did he have any idea how this set Silas's inner world in turmoil? How his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest?

It took another moment for Silas to regain his footing, his boyish charm slowly returning while he tried to give his next words a light, nonchalant tone as if Albert had made a little joke instead of a confession.

“Oh!... But you knew I would call on you today, Bertie!,” he gave Albert's leg a little swat for good measure. “I promised, didn't I? So no need to be all flabbergasted by it. That's what friends do.”

Albert sniffled, his face still earnest and his eyes filled with an unspoken fondness that ran straight through Silas' heart.

“Yes, you did, Sy. Hehh...HEhh'ERrrSSHHU! Snnnff... However, mbaking a promise and keeping it are two very different stories.”

Silas blushed, then fussed with the blanket, arranging and rearranging it, before he ventured to gaze at his friend.

“I'll always keep my promises to you, Bertie,” he said sincerely. Then, feeling the sudden weight of his words, he panicked and started to babble. “Well, I'll try, alas I'm far from perfect, so there will be ample opportunity for me to make a muck of things...”

Why the blazes was he rambling on about mucking up and failing to keep promises? Thankfully, Albert had the grace to interrupt him.

“I kndow that you are ndot perfect, Sy. And frankly, thank God for that! Otherwise I would be completely out of mby depth with you... Hehh... ESSHHiU!!”

Albert pitched forward with a pitiful sneeze, doing his best to catch it in his handkerchief, but the poor piece of fabric had already caught many a sneeze today and seemed to be at the end of its capacity.

“Here, Bertie. Take mine,” Silas offered softly, then took Albert's spent handkerchief from him, stuffed it into his coat pocket and replaced it with his own. His initials – SdL – were elaborately stitched into one corner, and Silas found a sudden pleasure in the idea of Albert having this piece of him close at all times.

“Thank you, Sy,” Albert sighed, then tended to his nose, which was a deep shade of angry pink and looked thoroughly tender and irritated.

“Ndow, where is this balm you were talking about earlier?”

Silas handed the small container to his friend, smiling as Albert squinted to read the label. He had noticed that Albert usually needed his reading glasses when confronted with smaller writing.

“What do you say, Bertie? Shall we try to find out if this balm really can do wonders for your cold?”

Albert nodded, handing the container back to Silas, seemingly too exhausted to try and read the small, intricate writing.

Since they were alone and he was about to take care of his poor Bertie, Silas shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a nearby chair. Standing only in his shirt and waistcoat, he rolled up his sleeves, then approached Albert with the confident smile of a world-renowned physician about to perform his best healing procedure.

“Alright, Bertie, let us begin. Ah, but I presume I would have to come a bit closer for this to work, wouldn't I?,” Silas mused with a sly grin, then came over and sat on top of Albert, straddling him once more just like he had the previous evening in his carriage. Albert chuckled, amused by this replication of yesterday's events.

“Now Bertie, that's much better, isn't it?” Silas asked, echoing the question he had asked Albert right after straddling him the previous evening.

“Mbuch better,” Albert replied grinning, happy to provide yesterday's line for their little game of re-enactment. He was too tired to grab and squeeze Silas' buttocks today, though. Instead, he held on weakly to Silas' hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of his fine trousers.

Silas proceeded to carefully peel Albert's chest out of the many layers of fabric protecting it against the chill.

At first, he pushed back the blanket to reveal Albert's dressing gown. In order to slip under it, Silas had to loosen the belt which held the dressing gown in place. This led to much squirming and giggling, as Silas' hand dived deep to reach the dressing gown's belt and to undo the knot, swift fingers moving indecently close to Albert's most private parts.

“Ah! Dod't tease mbe, Sy, I regrettably feel too weak for such shenanigans today,” Albert protested with an adorable pout. Apparently, he was just as dejected as Silas that this cold had taken so much out of him.

“My apologies, Sir Albert, I will keep my hands thoroughly in check from now on~”

Albert chuckled, but had to turn his head to the side to cough into the pillow that supported him. Silas was jolted around with every cough, and his heart went out to his poor Albert, who was left to breathe heavily for a few moments in the wake of his coughing fit.

“Perhaps this isn't such a good idea, Bertie. I should probably not be sitting on top of you..,” Silas began, his leg already twitching as if to get up, but Albert caught Silas' hand and led it back to the lapels of his dressing gown.

“Ndo, dod't stop on mby account, Sy. Please continue. I am quite curious to see what this wondrous balm will accomplish and you cad't expect a sick, ailing man like mbe to undress himself...”

Albert looked up at him with the most delicious little pout, and Silas could not help himself, but leaned in for a tender kiss.

“Alright then...,” he mumbled against Albert's lips, smiling into him before he sat back up. “... where were we? Oh yes, right... these buttons can't stay closed..”

Nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on Albert's night attire, revealing his bare chest. Albert shivered slightly, but looked more than pleased to be so exposed in front of Silas.

“Mhm.. there we go.. Now, before we can proceed, I need to make a good, thorough inspection of your chest...”

“You do~?,” Albert asked, his voice a delighted little squeal.

“Oh yes, Bertie. Very thorough~”

Silas dived in to conduct his "inspection", peppering Albert's chest with soft kisses, nibbling, licking, and sucking at the pale, milky skin, humming in delight and thoroughly enjoying Albert's softness on his tongue and lips.

Meanwhile, Albert melted into the chaise-lounge, biting his fist to prevent himself from making indecently loud noises and kicking his feet as Silas' tongue took care of an especially sensitive spot.

“Oh, Sy... hmm... oh wait!.. I... I have thhho... eehhh.....Hhhheehh'ESShhsttTSHHU!! HessSSHHU!! EtttSSHHusshh! Oh mby goodness, pardon mbe!”

Albert had sneezed without much warning. Silas had kept his head down, so the sneezes had mostly gone right over his shoulder, but he had felt the urgent panting of Albert's chest as well as the shuddering release. And good heavens had it felt exciting!

“Bless you,” he purred into Albert's neck, nibbling and kissing the warm skin there for good measure. Albert's hands clawed at his back with newfound strength, keeping him close until Silas had kissed that one spot right behind Albert's ear he loved so much to be kissed and sucked at.

As expected, Albert made one of his adorable little sounds of pleasure, and Silas sat up again, feeling thoroughly accomplished now that he had brought Albert to make his little noise.

While Albert composed himself, panting and snuffling, Silas licked his lips as if he had just enjoyed a very fine glass of brandy, then smoothing a strand of his dark hair back in its place.

“I dare say my inspection is complete, Bertie, and I found nothing amiss.”

Albert grinned up at him, all flushed cheeks and runny nose, but with that warm, cheeky glint in his eyes Silas loved so much.

“I'b glad to hear it, Sy.”

“Time to see what this wondrous balm can do...”

Grabbing the little container, Silas opened it, then sniffled tentatively at the smooth substance in it. It smelled of herbs and essential oils, quite potent, but pleasant. Satisfied with its scent, Silas dipped his finger into the balm, taking up a dollop of the mixture, which he then carefully transferred to Albert's chest. Starting from the middle, he rubbed the balm in in small circles, covering the left side of Albert's chest first before he moved on to the right.

“How's that, Bertie?”

Albert shivered.

“A tad cold, but not unpleasant. Ah, but I do believe the scent of it mbakes mbe.. hehh Heh'ERRSSHHU!!! ssniff sndeeze.”

Albert sneezed thrice more until his nose was accustomed to the scent, his body bobbing under Silas from the force of it. He mainly caught the sneezes in the handkerchief, but a few droplets grazed Silas' neck and shoulder.

Silas kept administering these soft touches for some time, taking up another small dollop of the mixture to ensure that Albert's chest was thoroughly covered. And since Albert seemed to enjoy the touch, Silas kept running his hands in circles over Albert's chest long after the balm had been applied.

At one point, though, Albert's chest seemed to get cold, so Silas cleaned the remaining balm off his hands and set out to bundle his Bertie back up again.

“Now, Bertie, that was quite enough fun and games for today. You are sick, after all and should be resting,” Silas said in his best mock-stern voice. Albert answered with his most demure look, before he had to cough again. The sound was deep and rich and set Silas to worry once again.

“See, Bertie, that is exactly what I am on about...”

Albert wheezed, undeniably exhausted at this point.

“Perhaps you are right, Sy. This has been quite the excitembent already... Hehh'ESShhTttsshh!” He quickly brought Silas' handkerchief to his nose to sneeze into it, then sank back into his pillows with a sigh, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

Silas made sure that all the buttons on Albert's top were closed, before he neatly folded his dressing gown closed over Albert's chest, wrapping him in like a precious gift. Finally, he pulled the blanket up until right under Albert's chin.

“Ah, Sy, stop, that is quite enough! I will ndeed a bit of space to breathe.”

“Sorry, Bertie, I just wanted to make sure that you are warm enough.”

Just like the night before, Silas took Albert's face in his hands, examining it. The dark circles under Albert's eyes were edged even deeper into the fair skin, and Albert's nose was tinged an angry shade of deep pink, bordering on red. His eyes looked tired, yet content, but he was all in all a miserable sight.

“Promise you'll rest until I return to call on you tomorrow?,” Silas asked, soft eyes searching Albert's gaze.

“I promise,” Albert whispered, and Silas kissed him once again as a long, tender goodbye.

#Colds #Snz #contagion #Albert is sick and Silas knows how to make him feel a bit better #Silas x Albert #my writing #fluff because the two of them wanted to enjoy some TLC together

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rokirokiro · 9 months

Text

Love Declaration Imp♡ct

Kaedehara Kazuha. A man that I believe is a carefree man who believes everything happened within a reason. even the simplest things as brewing one's tea out off willingness considers as endearing in his eyes. he appreciates tiny details, and would return the same. he thinks more than he talks, but whenever he does, 'flowers comes out instead of words'.

♡!

I say he's the bashful type when it comes to confessing his feelings. True, he might be bold with his words, but how could one be honest and directly say those simple yet powerful three words without stumbling upon each letters and embarrasses oneself? He can't, especially when you looked at him with those eyes, those lovely eyes he dared to exclaim that he'd stare for hours. those charming pairs that he wished to be his, as well as your soul. oh how he wished to be yours, and you to be his.

he made days of silent planning on how to let you know the content of his heart, spending days on thinking about the perfect confession he could offer to you as he goes on a little adventure with Beidou's crew, listening to the music of the oceans and waves splashing to the wooden ship.

But the nature tolds him, (or which he concluded),

that it needn't to be Perfect.

it just need to be true.

it just need his heart to pour onto.

it just need to be exactly what he thought.

And so,

he picked up a quill, dripping the tip on the dark night ink and began writing. a poem, a love confession. whatever it's called to inform someone about the availability of their heart to the other.

The nature also concluded,

that he needed to pour his entire heart onto the very piece of papyrus, which would change the two souls relationship forever. every alphabets sealed a piece of his heart onto them, and a misfortune result would break him entirely.

he's aware of the risk.

yet love need sacrifices.

. . . . . . . .

and when it finally reached your hands and eyes, it also reached your heart too.

◌⑅⃝●♡⋆♡LETTER♡⋆♡●⑅◌

To my dearest darling,

I'm in love with you. I aware that these words shouldn't be written on the very beginning of the letter, but I apologize for the spoil. As I can barely hang on anymore. I can't keep these feelings anymore that I really had to just write them down so quickly, so please consider thinking this letter as the summary of the diary of my heart. I've been wanting to tell you, no, desperately wanting to tell you that I'm in love with you, my angel. Love feels like an understatement, as I'd give you my whole, just like how you did. your smile alone becomes the sole reason of my gleeful days, the sweet soft redness adorning your cheeks is so adorable. you never stop making me fall in love like the first time again and again, lovely. you just never realized it, because you've been the sweetest since the very beginning and blinded from your own charms. and I'm violently attracted to you.

I love you, yesterday, today, tomorrow and to the eternity. I love you, I love you for eternity, I'm just so in love, I love you so so much. I love you, I am so in love, I want this feeling to never stop.

I love you, I love you, I love you..

(♡˙︶˙♡)

he just can't stop writing the three words. as if a force of nature just moved his hand to paint the letter with the dark ink, declaring his love oh so passionately. you'd notice parts of the paper have some tears stains too, he was probably so emotional as he writes this.

<♡~What do you think?~♡>

#kazuha #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin x you #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha

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peterjakes · 1 year

Text

Katniss x Peeta - ‘you said I have to trust more freely’

It's been months since Katniss and Peeta found themselves back in District 12. As the district builds itself back up after the War, so do the victors, healing together. Something is missing however, something unspoken, something that has always been there. They just can't quite admit that.

I have missed these two so damn much recently. the hunger games resurgence is back and I'm so here for it. I've wanted to write something about Katniss and Peeta for a while but just never got around to doing it. I feel like this might be a series but not 100% sure. thank you as always for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/44714848

It was midnight, or at least Katniss thought it was. The moonlight had managed to escape through the small gap of the curtains, finding its way up to Katniss. It hadn’t disturbed her; in fact, she was glad of it. Glad of the company. She was alone, like most nights. Her body still hadn’t gotten used to that. Those days spent in District 13, everyone packed in so tight, everyone together. Before that, she’d often fall asleep in Peeta’s arms, protected by that kind, warm shield. Before everything, before the War, the Quarter Quell, the first Games, Prim would often take up space, along with Buttercup watching the two of them closely.

But now it was just Katniss.

Peeta was just across the path, it couldn’t be more than 100 metres from Katniss’ front door. But it felt like eternity. She didn’t dare leave her home, didn’t dare disturb him. She couldn’t bring herself to do that. After everything. The two of them had both come home, they both found each other again. But Katniss didn’t know if they could let each other in. It wouldn’t be like before, of course, it wouldn’t. It couldn’t. But Katniss couldn’t deny she missed him, missed how things were. She wouldn’t admit certain things to herself, let alone Peeta. But the War was over, it was done, and Katniss had to live again. No matter how hard it would be. Katniss didn’t want to do that alone.

Knowing she couldn’t lie in the darkness any longer, Katniss forced herself out of her bed, brushing the bedclothes off her frail body and moved out of her bedroom. She found herself walking towards the front door but made a quick change at the last minute and followed the natural light in the kitchen. The blinds were not drawn, allowing a direct view of the house across the street. The baker’s boy, her once star-crossed lover, the Capitol mutt, so many names occupied that house and yet it was only one person she yearned to see. Peeta, her Peeta. Peeta who had burnt the bread on purpose to feed a starving girl. Peeta announced to the world his love for a girl who paid him no attention. Peeta who joined the Career pack for Katniss. Peeta, who begged Haymitch to save Katniss when the Quarter Quell was announced. Peeta, who agreed to no allies, just the two. Peeta, who didn’t care for his own wellbeing, only Katniss. Peeta, who suffered and endured so much at the hands at the Capitol. Peeta, who had lost himself entirely. Peeta who had come back home, for many things and for Katniss.

Katniss was angry with herself. Angry for letting it get this far. It had been months since they’d arrived back home. Months, and yet it was as if it was only yesterday that she found Peeta planting those Primrose flower he’d found. It wasn’t as if things hadn’t changed because they had. The three of them – Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch, had learned to heal together. But that didn’t mean it was like before, it could never be like that again. Katniss had understood that, and she was sure Peeta too. He’d kept his distance, almost like the time after their first games and Katniss hadn’t wanted that. She didn’t like it.

It wasn’t as if the two of them were ignoring each other completely. There would be times when the three of them, Haymitch included, would spend those long, dark evenings together trying to fill the void. Panem was moving on. The Games were over and of course every single detail had to be televised. Katniss had seen far enough of the Capitol, but it wasn’t just there. Buildings were being rebuilt, houses, hospitals, memorials – all in the districts. Katniss wondered when it would be District 12’s turn. She’d have to make a mental note to avoid the town. It was unlikely that they would want Coin’s killer around for the show.

And those evenings, those times spent together, the three victors, weren’t as bad Katniss had imagined. It could get lonely in that big house, and she missed their company. Katniss would make sure to hunt during the day, wanting to do something with her time and not wait about all day. Peeta, Katniss assumed, spent time trying to remember. He’d sometimes paint, maybe bake, read. Haymitch would always smell like a brewery, so it was obvious what he was doing with his day.

But things were different. It wasn’t icy, but there was a definite barrier between the two. Katniss had to admit she hadn’t made the best effort to overcome that. But how could she? What would she say to him?

Knowing there was no point trying to get some sleep, Katniss decided to do what she did best – hunt. It was still relatively dark outside, but that didn’t matter. The morning light would appear soon, making it easier and clearer for Katniss. She couldn’t stay cooped up in her home, all alone with her thoughts and her nightmares. She found her bow hidden in a corner in her bedroom; it was well-used but still good. Her hunting boots were hanging by her bed, only being washed a few days ago. She had spent so much of her time out hunting these days, trying to ignore the inevitable. The days were long, the nights were longer, and Katniss needed something to occupy her time. Peeta had his baking, his painting or at least he had. Katniss knew he was learning again, trying to learn, trying to remember. Haymitch had his drink, though it seemed a little less often than before. Perhaps the ‘prohibition’, as he once called it, in District 13 had worked.

But for Katniss, she needed to hunt, to keep busy, to have a purpose. She’d hunt a few rabbits, maybe a squirrel, like she used to. She’d still go down to the market but not to sell the animals, but to feel some kind of familiarity. District 12 had started to build itself back up. Some who had survived and were taken to 13 had come home, others stayed. The population was few, but it was enough.

Changing into her hunting clothes in front of the long mirror, Katniss noticed how thin she looked. She was always thin, always skinny. That’s what spending 16 long years growing up in the Seam did to you. But becoming a victor, she’d changed. But now? Well, her fingers were bony and slender, her thighs barely touched, her jacket almost engulfed her. If her mother was here… But she wasn’t. It was just her, alone in the big house. Her mother and Prim’s room had stayed untouched. Katniss hadn’t dared to enter them, not wanting to accept that it was just her now. The house itself was almost the same; Katniss hadn’t many possessions left to bring. The photo of her father, Peeta’s pearl, her Mockingjay pin, Peeta’s medallion.

By the time Katniss left the house and hopped down the stairs, the moonlight had disappeared, allowing room for the looming sun. Good, she thought. She knew Haymitch wouldn’t want her to go walking into the darkness and she didn’t exactly want to. She knew Haymitch didn’t like her hunting, not as often as she did. But how else would she occupy her time? What else would she do?

Katniss hadn’t expected to see anyone on her way back. The sun was barely rising, and the Victor’s

Village felt so far away from the rest of 12. But as she walked through the fallen gate, there it was, that familiar figure. Peeta had stepped out of his own home, wrapped up warm in his trench coat and scarf.

He was carrying something in his hand and was making his way towards the house across the path.

Peeta had almost made it up the steps when he noticed a shadow behind him.

“Peeta,” Katniss gasped out his name, as if she wanted to reach out to him but didn’t dare.

“Katniss,” Turning around the see Katniss watching him from below, Peeta moved down a few steps, so he was level with her. “I, er, came to see you.”

“Oh.”

“To give you this.” Peeta shrugged as if his gift was hardly worth leaving the house for. But Katniss didn’t feel that, not one bit. Slowly passing over the small gift, Peeta’s fingers lingered against Katniss’ for a moment before retracting them, carefully watching, and waiting for Katniss’ reaction.

It was warm and you couldn’t deny that smell, God, it smelt good. Katniss knew exactly what this was even before unwrapping the paper. “You’ve been baking again?”

“Yeah,” Peeta nodded, his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was thinking. “Or trying.” Laughing awkwardly, Peeta, moved his hands into his coat pocket. “I can’t quite…”

“I understand.” Katniss started to nod. “I’m sure-“

“Try it, and let me know, OK Katniss?” This seemed a little abrupt, maybe not intentional but Katniss couldn’t help but feel like Peeta was trying to get away.

“Of course,” Peeta moved to leave before Katniss managed his name again and stopped him. “Peeta?”

“Yeah?” Peeta turned around, looking expectantly. And there it was. It was as if she was back on the

train. The train that seemed to lead nowhere. That look, why did he have to give her that look? Her

heart felt stiff, it felt like it could break at any moment. It was as if it was Peeta, her Peeta staring back at her.

“Join me? Later. I have dinner.” Katniss motioned towards the animals she was holding in her hand. It would be nice, she thought. Just the two of them. Maybe she would be able to fill that gap that was keeping them apart, move the barrier. Katniss just wanted to talk to Peeta, to spend time with him. It was lonely, too lonely. She could feel herself falling and there was no one around to catch her.

Peeta smiled at Katniss, it was one of those little smiles he would often give her. “OK, OK Katniss.” Katniss could sense Peeta was thinking about something, just for a slight moment. Was it a memory?

“What is it?”

“The squirrels. My father bought them sometimes. Real or not real?”

“Real.” Katniss nodded, but turned quickly towards the steps, not wanting Peeta to catch her faltering. It’s like a game, every time. Peeta would have a memory, something would trigger it. It could be something small like the smell of bread or something big like Katniss’ repeating something Peeta had once said to her. More often than not, Katniss would answer ‘Real’. It was as if what the Capitol had done to Peeta, what they had made him believe, was slowly disappearing. That the old Peeta was growing stronger. But then there would be a memory, something horrible, something harsh. Katniss knew Peeta still had nightmares, just as she did. But the two were too far to comfort each other, even if that was exactly what she wanted.

Recently, her nightmares were filled with Gale. It would start with him, start with the bombs, with that explosion. But then he’d disappear. She’d search for him in the woods, but he wouldn’t be there. She would go around and around in circles, until the voices appeared. They would be loud, they would be screeching, she couldn’t get away. That was until she would feel those arms around her, that soft touch. The one thing that could always bring her back, comfort, protect her. It was Peeta.

Katniss hadn’t thought of Gale often, she didn’t want to. That last day, when she said goodbye, she knew it was for good. She had accepted that; she’d wanted that. She didn’t want to see Gale again and she knew she wouldn’t. That part of her life was gone. She didn’t need his fire or his rage. She had enough fire for himself. What she needed was calm, kindness, the dandelion in the spring. But he seemed so far away, untouchable. Katniss often wondered what Peeta had thought. Before the rebels won. Peeta had understood, he knew how Gale felt about Katniss. How she felt about him. But Katniss didn’t feel like that, not anymore. She wondered how Peeta felt about her. Whether some of those memories had some effect on him. She knew she couldn’t ask and didn’t want to. But it made her think. Sometimes Katniss thinking like that wasn’t necessarily a good idea.

Later that evening, the two sat in silence for the best part of the meal. It was nice, just enjoying each other’s company. The conversation was polite, nothing too deep. They spoke about their days, what was happening in District 12 and the rest of Panem. It seemed there was an unspoken agreement to not mention anything else, anything that had happened a few months before.

Katniss spoke of her time in the woods, in the Meadow. How quiet it seemed now, how peaceful. She knew she could delve further than she had in the past but didn’t want to admit that to Peeta. She didn’t want to worry him and turn the conversation into something else. Peeta asked about what she’d shoot, what she’d hunt, her favourite time to go. It seemed like he was making light conversation, but Katniss didn’t mind.

Peeta wanted to bake something new next. He’d tried the simple loaves, like the ones Katniss would often trade for the squirrels or simple game with Peeta’s father. The cheese buns would be next, which brought a smile to Katniss’ face. Peeta mentioned how they were her favourite, without the need of reassurance that this was a real memory. He wasn’t sure when he’d be able to get the right ingredients but wanted to try. Katniss asked about whether he’d make something more elaborate, something that needed to be decorated. Peeta didn’t want to get too ahead of himself but promised to try eventually.

Like most of the district’s, 12 was building itself up once again. More people had come home, though the population was far from the 10,000 it had before the bombs. The town was hit the most, but most of the rubble had been cleared. There were plans of rebuilding some houses, but other buildings too. Katniss wasn’t that interested in any of that, she would spend most days hunting out in the Meadow. Only sometimes would she walk through the market but couldn’t stay for too long. The memories. They were always there.

Peeta seemed quite enthusiastic about it, however, so she played along. Asking questions and wondering aloud about the plans.

Peeta had also received a letter recently from Annie. Katniss understood why she’d written to Peeta and not her. She hadn’t a lot to do with Annie during the War and even afterwards, it wasn’t as if they spent a lot of time together. Katniss was far closer to Finnick that she ever was to Annie. But Peeta… Johanna once said she and Peeta were neighbours in the Capitol. Katniss imagined Annie’s cell wasn’t too far along. They had something shared that Katniss would never understand.

The letter contain some general stuff, Finnick’s son was growing up so fast now. She’d sent another photo along with the letter which Katniss thought should have been nice, but it just caused an immense wave of sadness. The child had Finnick’s eyes. His cheeks were far less squishy now. He was definitely growing.

As her and Peeta mused over the letter and photograph, Katniss thoughts drifted to their ‘baby’. It was only ever a ruse, an attempt to cancel the Quarter Quell. Not that it worked, not that it was ever going to work. But what Katniss wanted, what she tried to achieve. She just wanted a world that would be safe, for Peeta and his child.

The Games were over. That meant any child would never have to suffer the pain, the horror, the guilt that came with the Games. One thing Katniss noticed about District 12 now was how little children she saw. She knew what happened to most of them. She knew what happened to many of the Capitol’s child. It was almost too raw to think about.

Peeta had somehow acquired a yellow sauce and decided to drizzle it all over his food. Katniss clearly couldn’t hide her disgust. All that hard work and it had been reduced to yellow messiness. Noticing Katniss’ expression, Peeta placed the pot of sauce in the middle of the table and motioned towards his place.

“You have to trust me, Katniss. This,” Peeta pointed towards his plate, a mischievous smile appeared on his face as he did. “This is good.”

Katniss shook her head, and a small smile forced itself out and started to creep along her face. How did Peeta manage to do that to her? The scowl had gone. She didn’t want to scowl at him, not ever. “I don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself.” Peeta shrugged, focusing his attention back on his plate. “This is great though, thank you.”

“Thank you. You made the bread.” And it was delicious. Katniss had forgotten how good the Mellark bakes had been. “Have you baked much else?”

“Bits and pieces.”

“And you didn’t let me try?”

“Well, this is the first that’s been good and properly good.”

“Such a perfectionist.”

Peeta smiled and a small chuckle escaped his mouth. He finished his last bite of the loaf before speaking again. “My mother was. Real or not real?”

“Real, I think. I’m not completely sure. From what you said…I guess so.”

“I remember one time; my father was at the market with my brothers. It was just me and mother.

She…she was angry about something. The way I was kneading the dough. Said I wasn’t strong enough. She was right; the whole batch came out wrong and we had to eat it for the next three days. I was always doing things wrong, especially in the beginning.”

Katniss hadn’t heard this one before. During their first games, the two spoke about their childhood. A lot of it was for the cameras, but not all. Then those long nights on the train when the two would find each other to protect from the nightmares. If they couldn’t sleep, they would talk.

It was at 13, when Delly and even Prim would try to help Peeta remember. Childhood memories, memories of his home, of the bakery, of school and then of Katniss. But this one never appeared.

“And then there was that time with you. When I burnt it on purpose. For you.” Another memory. A special one, at least to Katniss. It had a different feeling now, though. That Peeta, the one who burnt the expensive bread on purpose, the one who took a beating from his mother, he gave a starving Katniss the bread, he was gone.

Katniss could feel herself getting teary, and this time she was too tired to stop it. She would have to let Peeta see this. See these feelings.

“Katniss…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t…don’t apologise.”

Leaning back in his seat, Peeta sighed, furrowing his eyebrows. Katniss couldn’t gauge when he was thinking, let alone what he was feeling. How could she have experience so much with someone and feel like she didn’t know anything about them? She felt almost useless in that moment.

“How did we get so messed up?” There was something different about Peeta’s voice. A sense of resentment, but also laughter. It was as if he didn’t laugh, he’d end up crying. Katniss hadn’t seen Peeta cry since the end of the War, and that wasn’t something Katniss wanted to see. And yet here she was, allowing herself to cry in front of Peeta.

But it was like she thought, things had changed. Maybe she could be vulnerable than she had before. It was always a little different with Peeta. There had been so much acting, and yet sometimes it felt as if Peeta was the only person Katniss could be her true self with. It was true that in a way they’d grown closer, along with Haymitch. But before today, Katniss had the feeling that they were growing apart, almost to the brink of no return. But she was wrong. There was still something there, there had to be. It was just something different.

“Peeta…”

“Yes?”

“Will you, will you stay here, tonight?” Katniss moved her plate away as she spoke, as if she didn’t want Peeta to hear her request. “Just…nice to have company.” She knew she couldn’t look in his eyes, couldn’t see that sadness. Instead, Katniss decided to watch Peeta’s hands. Those hands that created such beauty, those hands that were so delicate, those hands that were so kind.

“I’m sorry, Katniss.” Peeta kept his eyes locked with Katniss’, the sadness in his eyes was still there. But it was more subtle this time.

“Why?”

“I should have realised…after everything. It gets pretty lonely, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“I’ll stay, of course I’ll stay.” Peeta’s arm moved across the table and his hand finds Katniss’. They touched for a moment, before they interlocked with each other. Katniss didn’t want Peeta to let go.

There was something unspoken between them, Katniss could feel it. Soon after, the plates were washed up, the table was cleared and the two of them made way for bed. It was as if Peeta knew, he made sure to not touch Prim’s bedroom door, finding solace in the sofa planted in the middle of the room. Katniss knew it was stupid to think for one-minute Peeta would follow her into her bedroom, even though she longed for it. They said their goodnights, polite and distant once again and then Katniss was alone, as she always seemed to be.

That night, the nightmares came to visit Katniss once again. It seemed that she had only closed her eyes for a minute when her face appeared in the darkness. It was only for a moment, and then she was gone. This happened almost every night. It was as if she herself couldn’t bear to stay a moment longer. The last thing Katniss saw of her sister was her lips mouthing her name. And then poof.

The next image is one she expected. Gale visits her in the darkness, his words were all jumbled and messy. And then he left.

Peeta was the last face she saw. Not the Peeta lying on the couch, but the Peeta that she remembered from the first games. the innocent, kind Peeta. but he soon disappeared, being replaced with the Peeta Katniss met after so long apart in 13, the Peeta who attacked her.

But then it’s all gone. Katniss lay awake in her bed. She was being woken up by that kind, familiar face. Peeta, clearing hearing the screams like he has so many times in the past, had come to her. To save her.

“Katniss! Katniss!” Peeta was knelt down between the bed and the bedside table. His left hand was rubbing Katniss’ shoulder, trying to soothe her. That concerned look he often wore had appeared as his eyes searched for something to reassure him. “Hey, hey…It’s OK. It’s me, It’s me.” His hand moved away from Katniss’ shoulder to his cheek, allowing his fingers to slowly caress the redness in her cheeks away.

“Peeta, Peeta, I’m sorry. I’m so-“ Realisng where she is, where she truly is, Katniss focused her eyes onto Peeta who was right beside her, his breath almost touched her nose. That warmth, she didn’t want to let go of it.

“Hey, it’s OK. I’m here.”

Katniss’ breathing was still fast and harsh. Peeta had now moved on to the bed as Katniss shifted over. His arms found a way around Katniss and the firm grip of his fingers forced their way onto Katniss’ shoulder. Feeling more at peace, Katniss burrowed her head into his chest, listening to calmness of his heartbeat. It brought her back to reality, back to her room, back to her bed where Peeta is lying beside her.

“That was bad one, huh?” Peeta whispered this, as if he didn’t want to stir Katniss. The softness of his voices reached Katniss’ ears and it calmed her. He always knew how to do that. “It’s OK, it’s not real. It never is.” Katniss had forgotten what it felt like to hear Peeta’s reassurance. He’d so often give it, especially during those hard nights before things changed. But the past few months, it was as if he wasn’t quite able to, as if he’d forgotten. Peeta had to relearn and re-remember so much. Katniss had tried to reassure him, tried to help but she never seemed to quite manage it the way Peeta did. He was too good.

“I know, I know.” Katniss barely managed to speak this, she sounded muffled, with her lips touching the fabric of Peeta’s shirt. Peeta doesn’t need her to repeat this, he can hear perfectly. Moving closer, Peeta allowed his firm grip to loosen a little, but kept his arms tightly wrapped around Katniss’ body, not wanting to let go. He could clearly sense the stillness in Katniss but made sure to stroke the top of her forehead. Katniss remembered this so clearly from before, something Peeta would do whenever she had a nightmare. He clearly remembered too, knowing it works.

“Peeta.” Katniss spoke louder this time, wanting to be head. Her head moved closer towards Peeta’s, finding his eyes in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“You’ll stay? Just tonight, for a little bit.”

“Always.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, just certainty. Peeta had no intention of leaving Katniss alone that night, none. Sliding his head down to the pillow, Peeta moved closer to Katniss, the closest he could get. The two lay like that until Katniss drifted off to sleep, knowing she was safe in Peeta’s arms.

Katniss awoke that morning to find herself alone. She could still feel the indent of where Peeta’s body lay in the night. She wondered how long he had stayed there. But this wasn’t a good thought. Of course, Peeta had stayed the whole night until he’d woken up himself. She’d imagined the couch had no company that night.

Finding the strength to move, Katniss pushed herself out of her bed and made her way to the kitchen. She could smell…something. Not food, but something. Peeta had his back to her, clearly focusing on something in the kitchen. Katniss didn’t want to rush in and interrupt him. She watched as Peeta’s arms moved across each other. It was a rare sight to see Peeta alone, really alone. She didn’t want the moment to end. But clearly Peeta could sense he was being watched and turned to find Katniss standing by the edge of the kitchen table.

“Morning.” Peeta nodded, a sullen expression appeared on his face as he passed a warm mug to Katniss. “For you.”

“Thank you. Did you get back to sleep?” Katniss already knew the answer to the question before it even escaped her lips. Peeta hadn’t slept after Katniss drifted off. In the past, during those long, dark nights on the train, both Katniss and Peeta would find solace in each other’s arms and would find some peace in their sleep together. The best night sleep that Katniss had were always with Peeta, when she knew he was there, ready to catch her. She wondered if it was the same for him. It had to be. But maybe not now. The Capitol, Snow, everything had taken that away.

“Er, no, I didn’t. But it’s fine, I don’t sleep most nights. Better than the nightmares.” Katniss could tell. The dark circles under Peeta’s eyes were more vivid that morning and something felt different. Was he angry? Was he upset? Katniss couldn’t tell. She felt sad, sad that the peace they had the evening before had seemed to have vanished. And she didn’t know why.

“Yeah.” Understanding completely, Katniss moved to sit down next to where Peeta was still standing. She watched him as he followed her lead, taking the seat opposite her. She took a sip of the tea; it was warm, soothing. Just like Peeta. Peeta watched her for a while, ignoring his drink completely. The steam rose up and above him as the morning lights reflected from the kitchen window. Sitting there, on a quiet morning, with Peeta sat just across her, Katniss wished she could just freeze time. It would make things a lot easier.

After a while, Peeta spoke, which almost made Katniss jump. She was lost in a trance of her own thoughts. “Katniss, I think…I think we need to be honest with each other.”

“What do you mean?” Katniss questioned the boy sitting across from her. Peeta’s expression had changed since the two sat down together. It softened slightly, that almost sulky look had disappeared now. It wasn’t exactly concern, but there was a seriousness to him. It was as if what he was about to say is the reason why he seemed different that morning.

“I think, you know…Things…things aren’t going to be like before. But... we’re here, it’s over.” Over. Will it ever really be over? The War has ended, the Games are no more. Katniss, Peeta; they both came home. This is supposed to be the time for, what was it that Dr Aurelius said, ‘healing’? How could Katniss ever heal? How could she ever forget?

Katniss knows what Peeta is trying to say, she understood what he wanted. After everything that he went through, after everything that happened, he wanted it to be done, wanted it to be over. It was the only way he could ever live a life, a decent life. Katniss wanted that for him, she truly did. But wondered if he’ll ever get it. “We have to move on.”

“We do.” Nodding along, Peeta gave Katniss a small smile and his hand found hers once again. This time, it was Katniss who moves closer, allowing her fingers to stroke along Peeta’s knuckles. She doesn’t want to stop, but eventually placed her hand into Peeta’s, feeling that warmth once again. The hunger wasn’t quite there, it wasn’t ready, but Katniss could feel it growing, blooming. It was almost ready to pounce. Almost.

“Together?”

“Together.”

#katniss x peeta #peeta x katniss #everlark #thg #the hunger games #thg fic #the hunger games fic #everlark fic #thg fanfic #the hunger games fanfic #everlark fanfic #you said I have to trust more freely #mine #my writing

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 7 months

Text

Devotional Hours Within the Bible by J.R. Miller

Christ the Life and Light of Men (John 1:1-18)

The first three Gospels begin on the earth ; the fourth Gospel begins back in eternity. There are no sublimer words in all language than the first words in John’s prologue. They give us a glimpse of the eternal past and show us the Word existing then. In the beginning, before anything else was - He was. Genesis is the book of earthly beginnings, but this first verse of John’s gospel carries us back far beyond Genesis. We find precious comfort in human friends when we can rest in their love and know that they are indeed ours, true to us and faithful. Yet all the while, as we lean upon them, we know, too, that they are only creatures of a day. They have not lived long, and their wisdom is only inexperience, their strength only weakness. Their love is liable to change and decay; their very life is only a breath, a mere comma in the great sentence of eternity. But in the friendship of Christ we know that we are in the clasp of One who is eternal - the same yesterday and today, yes, and forever.

We are told also plainly who this divine Friend is. “The Word was God .” A word reveals thoughts. We cannot know what is in our friend’s heart - until he speaks. We never could have known what God’s thoughts about us are - if He had not spoken to us. Jesus Christ is the Word, that is, the revealer to us of the mind and heart of God. The Incarnation of Christ brings Him very close to us. In His human life He is one of ourselves, our brother, with feelings, affections and sympathies like ours. But when we can add to our thought and experience of Christ’s humanity the wonderful truth that He is divine, it puts a marvelous element of strength and security into our trust. The Incarnation is God coming to us with a great heart of love, offering Himself to us. A great preacher says, “In the last analysis Christianity is nothing more or less than a great dear Figure, standing with outstretched arms.” God is love, and He is love yearning, that comes to us in the Word.

All divine revelation has been made to the world through the Word. “All things were made by him.” One was showing an old watercolor picture which hung in his room. It was beautiful, but the good man said that nothing among his possessions was so precious to him as this faded bit of painting, because his mother had made it. Just so, everything in nature is made sacred and beautiful to one who loves Christ, when he remembers that his Savior made it. The sweet flowers by the wayside would be sweeter to us - if we remembered, as we looked upon them, that the hand of Christ painted them. This is Christ’s world. His touch is on everything in it. Everything speaks of Him and of His love.

Christ is also the source of all life. “In Him was life.” He is the one fountain of life. No one in the world, except God, can produce life. With all his skill, man cannot make the smallest living seed, or create the most infinitesimal particle of matter. Science, with all its wondrous achievements, has never been able to produce life in even the lowest form. No man can make a blade of grass, or the tiniest flower, or the lowest insect. All life comes from Christ.

Our lesson turns now to the revealing of the divine Word. First, preparation. “There was a man sent from God.” He came as God’s messenger, to prepare the way for the divine revealing. Each one of us is likewise “sent from God.” We know what John’s mission was. We may not know yet what our own mission is - but God will show it to us as we go on, if we are faithful. We may be sure, however, that we are here on no haphazard errand; we are really sent on some errand, some definite mission. There is some word that we were born to speak - and if we do not speak it, the world will be poorer, some life will not know God’s message and will not know what God wants it to do.

John came to tell men of the Messiah. “He came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light that all men through him might believe.”

Our highest duty in this world is to give honor to Christ, to show some phase of His glory. Some men in their self-conceit, think only of making a show of themselves, getting people to see them and praise them. The mission of every Christian is to bear witness of the Light, to point others to Christ, that men may believe. It was said of a great preacher, that wherever he went, people, when they saw his life, fell in love with Jesus Christ. They forgot the preacher - and thought only of the Master whom the preacher proclaimed, both in his words and in his life. John hid himself out of sight - and wanted people to see only Christ. We cannot save any soul - but we can point lost ones to Him who can save. We may bear witness of Christ in many ways. We may do it by our words, telling what He was and what He did for us; and by our life and character, showing what Christ can do for all who come to Him.

It is strange that when the Son of God came to his world, He was not received. We would say that such a glorious being would have been hailed with highest honor. But there was not welcome for Him. “He came unto his own - and his own received him not.” This was one of the saddest things about Christ’s mission to the world. For ages He had been waited for and watched for - but when He came He was not recognized; He was even rejected and crucified. We say, “If He came now - He would find a warm welcome.” But would He? He does come now as really as He came then. He comes to save us, to be our Friend, to help us in our need, and many of us turn our backs upon Him. He stands yet knocking before many a door which does not open to Him.

There were some, however, who received Christ when He came, and to these He brought wondrous blessings. “As many as received him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God.” Here we have the way of salvation made plain. We have only to accept Christ as He comes to us - and we are led into the household, among God’s own children. We need not understand all about Christ, about His person or His work - there may be a great deal of unexplained mystery about Him. There cannot but be, for the Incarnation is the most profound mystery of all ages. But we do not need to understand everything - all we need to do is to accept Christ as our Savior, our Master, our Friend - and we are led by Him into the full light. Then some day we shall understand. In the experience of divine love - our joy will be so full that there shall be no question unanswered, no desire unsatisfied.

The beginning of our passage tells us of the Word existing in the eternity past, the Word with God, the Word as God Himself; now we come to the revealing of the Word: “The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.” It is not said that the Word was changed into flesh - He continued to be divine. He became flesh. It does not mean, either, that He took up His abode in a human body merely - He took upon Him the whole of human nature, body, soul and spirit. We cannot divide the activity of Christ into two sections and say, “This the divine nature did, and this His human nature did”; the human and the divine were inextricably blended into one. When we see Christ’s compassion, His thoughtfulness, His mercy, His kindness, His gentleness, these are divine qualities, revealed in human ways, through human life. It was all divine, all glory.

Christ is the only revelation of God. “No man has seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father - he has revealed him.” We never can know God, except through His Son. There is no other possible revelation of Him. Christ came in lowly form, and appeared to His friends as a man; but when they learned to know Him, when their hearts had fixed their tendrils about Him, they found that He was divine, the Son of God. If we ever see God and know Him, and enter His family as His own - we must accept Christ. There is no other way. To reject Him is to shut ourselves away from God - in darkness unillumined by a beam of love from His face.

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respectthepetty · 11 months

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(Sorry to be here again, I was gonna comment on the post but it was getting too long. Feel free to just read, since it's more a comment than an ask. ) Just to be clear, I don't enjoy sad endings. I have seen most of your recs (teddy bear and something in my room haven't seen) and I also didn't like the ending of Kissable Lips cause there was an easy out. I mean the premise of the show is basically the fact that he can be human again thanks to the other guy. I prefer hea but a sad ending doesn't prevent me from loving a show. Case in point, Eternal Yesterday is a favourite of mine and also (I know this is gonna sound crazy) MODC is my favourite of the History franchise. But I promise, I LOVE happy endings, even with so much evidence to the contrary. If we could always have compelling characters and stories and at the same time happy endings, that would be heaven. [Just as an aside, your answer to my ask made me laugh so hard and I have to thank you because I read it before getting to work at 5 am and it made such a difference in my morning. It was great. Thank you so much. Hope you're having a good day too.]

@nothingsbetterthancoffee, hopefully everyone already knows how much I love HIStory 4: Close to You, but, for me, every HIStory comes before the HIStory-We-Don't-Mention.

Yet that's your favorite?!

Homie, I'm terrified of you!

I'm in the Happy Ending-Above-Everything Camp. I don't care if it doesn't make sense to the plot and makes me cringe (Past-Senger).

I don't care if a magical unicorn has to throw someone in a magical pond to make the happy ending happen (Great Men Academy).

I don't care if that person would never survive the horrors he went through in real life (KinnPorsche)!

I don't care how the happy ending happens, as long as it happens (Triage).

Happy Endings first. Plot consistency second.

Because I only have one hard rule - Don't bury the gay. Even if one of the gays has already been buried for almost two decades (He's Coming to Me).

#happy ending above everything else #I don't care if it doesn't make sense #I just want the fictional gays to thrive AND survive

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blugnettabutterflies · 10 months

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Waiting room.

Spoilers from Season 5, Case 52.

( @ccornersstone hehe)

Waiting rooms are something that a lot of people call a surreal kind of experience, from the moment they walk in to the moment they get out, depending on their experience. Each person who enters that place feels a sensation or emotion, and those are usually multiplied by a hundred. Whether it is anxiety, fear, happiness, dread… sometimes anger and joy are mixed together into a mess that no one can truly understand. All of them cope in different ways, some pace around the room, some overthink, some are trying to keep calm, and some pray. Others just shut down and feel nothing.

Others, is a mix of two or three. And others are just everything at once.

The only feeling that bring all the strangers together, is the feeling of ambiguity. An uncertain sensation, where you can just wait and hope for the best outcome.

That’s the same feeling Gloria, Gabriel, Amir and Player were feeling inside of that waiting room.

It’s only been a few minutes since they last knew about their partner. For all of them, it feels like hours. Eternal hours.

They all remember the moment vividly. He is up, then he is on the ground, and someone is calling 911. The ambulance came while someone was giving air to him on mouth-to-mouth technique, and that person was pushed away by the paramedics, so they can do what they have to do.

The rest is a blur. Some went on a car, and one of them went on an ambulance.

Gabriel remembers having the pill bottle in his hand, and still can’t wrap his head around it.

Gloria remembers driving, and still can’t wrap her head around it.

Amir and Player are in the back of the car, and both still can’t wrap their head around it.

Getting in the hospital was also a blur. They don’t remember when they got out of their respective car, and ran to the hospital. They don’t remember the time, or who they talked to. They don’t even remember the day, if it was tomorrow or yesterday.

But there they are, at the waiting room. And yet they can’t still wrap their head around what happened.

----

Amir is pacing around. He knows that if he sits down, his leg will start trembling. He is thinking and thinking of every outcome possible.

“He will be okay, there’s a chance that the overdose wouldn’t be so bad. It was just respiratory depression, no slow heartbeat…”

Or maybe the heart palpitations were getting slower when the ambulance came. He doesn’t remember if the person giving the respiratory procedure stopped before. He doesn’t remember how many minutes he was left without air.

Respiratory depression over an overdose can cause brain damage. Benzodiazepines can cause multiple organ failure, and can kill you fast, depending on the drug. And that depends of the time it lasts on the body, the action time, the lasting time...

He wasn’t in time. Just like with Rupert, he wasn’t there to stop it. All he could hear was his Chief yelling for someone to bring a gurney or an oxygen mask or something. He called 911. It’s all he could do. Giving shaky and very shocked answers, as he enters the room and sees his body, being surrounded by people he knew and talked with. He doesn’t remember what he said, but by the very blurred memory of it, he was as frantic as he was now. Maybe a lot more, he can’t tell.

He can’t lose another member. He can’t lose another friend. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he does it, with how much he knew about science and chemistry, he should have known about the chemical imbalance that the body has when they experience someone’s death. It destroys you. He knows it does, he has been there, he knows it first-hand.

Then why didn’t he see the same imbalance? Why didn’t he see that? He could have stopped it.

“This is not about you Amir not now, not now; he is right now being intubated. If the Benzodiazepines were pure, he can be given Flumazenil and will start breathing in due time. Its’ protocol, every 15 second it has to be given 0.1 milligrams of that until the minute passes. He will start breathing. He has to it's …”

The overdose. He could try to ask the doctor or whoever is at charge, once it’s due. Is he at the Emergency Room? Did he pass to the Intense Care Unit? He has to know this he is the Lab Chief. He should know this. He has to know if Gabriel’s medication doesn’t have an opioid involved.

Why he doesn’t know this? He has to know, because he would know what to do. And he thinks he knows what to do because he is okay. He is going to breathe; he is not declared dead yet. Not even when benzodiazepine overdose is one of the main causes on death in United states regarding suicide. Not even when organ failure can cause terrible consequences to his body, and that can result in death. Not even when even if he survives, there is a chance of brain damage. Even if it’s not as probably, but it can happen.

“He has to be okay. Right?” Is all he can think. But all of the outcomes are confusing. He can be alive, he can be dead right now, or in a few hours. Or he cannot talk with them anymore, or maybe he is in a comma where he is not going to ever wake up from, and he is a ventilator, forever. And they will have to say goodbye and disconnect. Or maybe he will not be like that, and will wake up, but in the mental exam he will be declared mentally unable, and will have to be out of the force, and being taken care of. Or maybe he will be okay, and act like nothing ever happened. Is that even possible?

All of those thoughts were mixed into a blender, he doesn’t know what the right answer is anymore. So, he can just walk, hoping those can organize it. Maybe he could call Jasper. Probably he has an answer.

Or maybe just to talk He wants to talk; his throat feels like it’s going to explode. But he is occupied, occupied at work, work that he was supposed to be there, and being useful not like here where he wasn’t and now his friend is being treated and they know anything about it. He can’t interrupt it. Can he?

No one sees it, but his eyes are full of tears. He is not speaking, nor yelling.

His train of thought is only interrupted when he trips as he tried to sit down because of Gloria who is still looking at the door, sitting. It’s all that she has been doing.

----

Looking. Looking everywhere. Looking at everyone.

She is waiting for someone to come out of there. No one has come out of there.

She is looking everywhere. Looking if someone can give her an answer as for why. If she missed a clue, or if someone is looking back, and tells them something they may have forgotten.

She was technically the newest in town, in relations of knowing him. Even Player had more knowledge.

But it feels like she met him for a while back, even if it was just a year ago. She knows how mad he can get when there’s injustice, how sad he could be when something hits him personally, and how irrational his actions sometimes are on a bad day… how many puns he can get he’s nervous and how bold and passionate he is towards his job, friends, love… everything. He is passionate.

Then when did she lose track at the moments, he stopped being passionate, when he became sadder, when he became angrier, and more irrational. Did anyone notice it at all?

She is supposed to be a mother. She is supposed to know where this kind of stuff happens, when suddenly someone changes their mood, meaning that there is something had happening. Then why didn’t she notice it?

She hopes she is able to see it on Carter because if she cant look at it on a grown man then-

“This is not about you Gloria, not now; maybe he just took a harsh decision?” Is all she tried to hope.

“What a stupid idea” it’s the next thought. A sudden decision. This is not a sudden decision. She has been taught the basics of depression, and depression is not sudden.

Its accumulation. Accumulation of feelings. And one day, they pop, they teach you that in courses to catch a teenager’s depression back in Chicago schools.

The moment was still fresh to her, she can still sees it. She was taking about Zoe, and suddenly he appeared. He should be with Gabriel. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He thanked everyone. His voice was cracking like glass and wobbly like jelly. He had eye bags from crying. His tie was untied, his hair looked like he just woke up from a nap.

And suddenly he had the pills. She didn’t react in time, when he said goodbye, saying how worthless he was, when he downed tall of the pills at once, and swallowed them all without even drinking water. (“Why is water so important now?”)

And at the brink of a moment, he was on the ground, with a loud thump. He probably has a bad bruise of that, no one was able to hold him. He fell flat. Chief Parker also saw it, and suddenly went to see his pulse.

There was a pulse. There was no breathing. His mouth was open and un-responsible. She has the idea of the hospital, and saw his chest wasn’t moving, but aside of that, she didn’t know what to do.

She only obeyed orders. Orders of activating a protocol, and waiting for the ambulance to come, as Parker yelled for someone to call 911. She saw how many people were entering the room, and how many were going in and out. It was all in stop motion, as she was slowly walking to the entrance of the precinct to wait for the ambulance to come, so she can guide them to the room.

Looking, waiting. It’s all she could do. Even now.

She is the only one who looks at the clock. She is the only one who knows the track of time. Carter is probably at her house by now, or he is walking there. He will be alone, probably for the rest of the day… maybe even night. Maybe her ex-husband will take care of him. She hasn’t told him that she is still at work. Is she even at work right now? This doesn’t feel like work.

She has to tell him. Yet she feels stuck.

There is more work to do. They still have no answer as for why Zoe was “levitating stuff” given by her killer’s word. What a stupid and selfish motive. For the news. To gain a star in the hall of fame.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid. She only could look at how stupid that stupid motive from that stupid person was. And yet she has to investigate that. She has to talk with him. She and Player. Both together have to ask.

She wonders how her Chief is doing. She didn’t want to go, because she had to still fill a protocol. “Work issues, I’ll meet you there later" were her words, but something tells her that she wanted to come. She is probably in her room. Maybe she is not phased? She looked worried.

Maybe she was. And has to push that away, for the sake of the job.

This job sucks. Sometimes, it does suck.

She looks again, this time to confirm If her seat mate was there. He’s still there, same position as he positioned himself ever since they got there.

Correction. Physically, he was there. Mentally , he was long gone.

-----

When the rest of the group were at the hospital, they already saw Gabriel seated at the chair. He was looking at the ground. He didn’t have the pill bottle in hand. But his hand gestures looked like he had them.

His last words were while seated in that chair. He said with a steady voice that he was admitted at the emergency room, and he had to stay there. That was the last time he looked to the rest, before giving a big sigh, and looking down.

His muscles are not hurting by the position of it, which is good and at the same time, bad. Good because it doesn’t hurt.

Bad because his back was actually hurting. But his mind was so immersed into a mind work world, that he couldn't feel it anymore.

His palms are open together, at times turning into a praying position. He is not so sure if he’s religious, or if anybody in that room is, but he found himself some solace into believing that some powerful superior sense would help them out, even if it’s a little push.

Maybe this is why he was acting so on line at the cult. Maybe he was used to this. He was able to trick his mind into it, believing in something that doesn’t have facts.

But that's only because that's something he can control. And this situation is something that got out of his control. He had it in control, he was supposed to control it.

Ever since he found himself comforting him at the psych hospital, while keeping him away from the body of his deceased loved one, he knew that he had to be in control of this.

He had to. He was he one capable to medicate him enough so he would stop crying and would rest his aching body.

He had to pay attention to it multiple times. He slipped up one time and suddenly he was in the main room, promising to bring hell upon the killer, grabbing someone’s collar to the point of breaking down. He had to be more careful and more in control than ever.

So it wasn’t a surprised that his panic heavily increased when he found that his medicine cabinet was open.

And his pills weren't there.

It was only a matter to connect the dots to realize what the screaming was about second later.

He just went to the bathroom.

He tried to look for the empty bottle, on the ground. And he froze when he found it. Because it's all he could do. Freeze, while thinking how out of control this situation got, and that he has no power to change things drastically like with a pill to calm the nervous system.

He is supposed to be the calm one, and he is showing it. But his mind is screaming, yelling that he is not prepared enough that he let the moment go. Those thoughts didn’t go away, not when the ambulance came, nor when he was sitting and answering the questions, nor when he passed the empty bottle and stayed outside waiting for the rest.

When he studied psychology, and got himself to be a profiler, it was so he could be unprepared for everything. Every symptom is measurable, every change into their behavior can be put into a criteria. And you can learn the criteria, and know what to do because you became prepared.

But he didn’t know what to do.

"This is not about you, Gabriel. But it's your fault if he dies."

Everyone has some fault. He showed so many signs, so many events where they could have prevented it. So many criteria fitting into Major depression. The loneliness feeling, the irrational thinking, the despair and possible suicidal thoughts… all in more than 6 months.

Was there overeating? He does… all the time unless…

Everything was there. He didn’t see it, and it was RIGHT THERE.

He can sense his body growing tense by the minute, how all of the guilty thoughts were increasing in his mind, how he could have prevented it. He knew that Benzodiazepines take away the 4th Phase of REM sleep, he knew that he would get cranky and irritable, why did he keep giving them?! Why he left to the bathroom knowing that Gloria and Player found out who killed her?! Why he didn’t lock the cabinet AND WHY SINCE HE KNEW HE KNOWS LOCK PICKING HE KEPT THE PILLS AT THE CABINET AND BOT WITH HIM WHY WHY WHY-?!

“David Jones?”

Suddenly his ear senses come back. And just in time. Everyone heard it.

“David Jones?!” the voice sounds again.

Amir stops his pace, and Gloria looks. Gabriel tries to compose himself, and gets up. He is the controlled one. He is the one at the ambulance, who told everything.

So he is the one who will know what happened. While he walks, he sees Player, making what it appears to be, a call.

----

He can only imagine how Player is feeling. They both know each other for a while. More than anyone else in that room.

And yet, Player wasn’t able to see the signs, like him. The sudden signs. He bets that Player feels guilty.

Player is just at the phone, and is looking at the door. Is calling someone, probably one of his parents. Probably Ramirez, so he could know the news?

Is it even good to call like that? He can still turn out ok, probably the dose he took wasn’t that bad. Gabriel is hopeful.

Not the same can be said of Player. They are indeed calling someone. It’s all they have been doing. Calling, acting, trying to keep themselves on the ground.

Is all they can do. When was having his anger moments, or sad moments, or moments he could joke at the job, they were the anchor to keep him on the ground. It worker with him, it worked with Gloria, Rita, Amir, everyone. It was always them. The one who had to act up, the one who couldn’t shed tears at the very moment.

And yet there they were. Trying to keep themselves on the ground, because they knew that they were tearing up. Trying to this time, act up, not like last time, that they didn’t yanked the pills away, nor grabbed him when he was falling, or giving the breathing technique. Chief Parker did that. Not them. All they could think, just like the other 2… 3 times… Is trying to keep themselves collected because they were at work.

But this wasn’t work. Unlike Gloria, Player is sure of it. This can't be work.

But they cant cry. They cant bring themselves to tears when at any moment they would have to run, if he needs help or if he needs an antidote.

They don’t remember the name of he antidote. They don’t know the name.

They should have known better. It’s what some person, some young psychology student once said. He's a kettle boiling up. They knew they could explode. But didn’t know how. They should have know, when kettles boil you have the chance to turn off the fire before it runs out of water, and the metal starts melting, damaging itself.

That teenager was right. The whole time. And they didn’t listen.

Someone answered to Player’s call, and that someone is getting the news. That someone is freaking out. Is asking with panic how did his happen? No one truly knows.

Yet Player still gives the rundown. And the person tells them to keep them updated, still sounding like they will cry at the ambiguity.

Player stops the call, giving a long sigh.

Worse case scenario.

“This is not about you, Player. Control yourself, you have to make a solution. Because he is not fine. He is dying. This is about him.”

Another long sigh, and comes back to the group.

At the same times, Gabriel comes back as well from talking to the doctor. His face doesn’t inspire hope.

“I’ve spoken to the doctors about Jones condition…”

...

"And it's not good."

...

Worst Case Scenario.

He’s not getting out of the door.

We are running out of time.

This is the 2nd time you didn’t stop it.

...

... this is all your fault.

#criminal case #criminal case the conspiracy #criminal case conspiracy #Gabriel Herrera #Gloria Hayes #Amir Devani #player character #david jones #david jeremiah jones #Head case spoilers #s5case52 spoilers #did i do this right?#hopefully.#this is... 3377 words.#maybe more.#Im very sorry.#character analysis #i guess

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candlecoo · 2 years

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A very young god izuku Au

He comes to the society and doesn't even know what a quirk is, somehow he got into UA, when someone ask about his quirk he just go like "404 error" and how one of his powers to them

No one in the class actually know what's god Izu real power, no one knows about the godling stuff also, they have a bets pool about izuku quirk and some of them are kinda confused how every single animal likes izuku no matter if it's a lion or a small rat, Katsuki is creeped out but don't say a thing.

Koda : he can control animals.

Ochako : No no...he control plants, Todoroki.

Lida : plants? He levitates sometimes so his power is mostly probably be gravitational related!

Denki : i bet on Todoroki guess.

Shouto theorizing: maybe he does have multiple quirks and he doesn't feel safe to tell we

Denki : i bet on Todoroki guess yesterday i saw Midoryia go through a wall like it was notching.

- mankind had long forgotten the days of gods and deities. No longer did they spend their lives worshipping false idols, it had long since been the age of man.

- there were few true gods left, and the time for one was slowly coming to a close.

- but it wouldn't be the end, no.

- it would be reborn once again. Another turn in a never-ending cycle. The eighth passing and ninth renewal.

- there always had to be one, they were a creator as well as a watcher. Caring for all of the earth and all it's creatures in times eternal pull.

- it was all powerful, nothing could stop it except death. But that was true to all things.

- and as the ancient being closed it's eyes for the final time another opened it's eyes for the first.

- everything was so new, yet so familiar for young Izuku. It was like he had lived it hundreds of times yet was experiencing it all anew from fresh eyes.

- for years he spent living his days in the godlings nursery before venturing out of the dense forest into the outside world.

- from there he attempts to blend in as much as possible while also finding his place and purpose as a young god.

- does Yagi take him in? Yes.

- does Todoroki have theories? Also yes.

#little godling au #candle answers #ask the candle #bnha au #bnha #bnha headcannons

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sunstaar · 2 years

Text

A Piece of Cake (or not)

Kakashi Hatake x reader

Word Count: 3,5k

Ao3

The happiest of birthdays to @wind-becomes-lightning ! Thank you for being such a wonderful and sweet person, it has been a joy to know you. Have a great birthday and start into your next year of life! I wish you all the best and more, so here's a little something for you! I hope you enjoy it 🖤

Summary: It is your birthday, and Kakashi is determined to bake a cake for you. If he had only known how wrong it would go.

Kakashi was not a baker, and for years already he had thought of the fact to be alright. Rather, he had always prided himself in the fact that he was a good cook, a great one even. There was not one meal of his that missed the mark, tasted off, or even made him feel a wrong kind of fuzzy inside. Without a doubt, cooking truly was a forté and due to the dislike he harbored toward sweet things, Kakashi never saw baking as something he needed to do often or be particularly skilled at.

For many years, he had no reason to, after all. That was at least until you came into his life, more specifically, your birthday.

Already a month prior, Kakashi had made sure to get a gift he knew you’d love, one with which he could spoil you as much as you deserve the be spoiled. Since that day it had been sitting at the bottom of his closet, cheekily hidden away from you and your prying curiosity, waiting for the day on which it could be opened.

Kakashi had to admit to himself, that he was rather proud of the gift he had chosen for you. Not only did he put a lot of effort into his choice, browsing more stores than he would have liked to until he finally managed to settle on something he considered to be close to perfect, but he was also very happy with his choice. So much so, that he had already wrapped the gift in the prettiest wrapping paper he could find in all of Konoha, topped off with one of the bows he had seen Kurenai make for her daughter Mirai.

Gift-giving was something he had never been convinced he was good at, always finding a way to somehow critique his own abilities. Yet, for you, he found it important that the gift he good was one that could make your face light up as it always did when you were happy. The huge smile your lips tugged into not only lit up the room, but also a smile of his own underneath his mask, one he could barely contain at the sight of you glowing.

Up until yesterday, he had thought of his gift as close to perfect, something he couldn’t improve if he tried. And he wouldn’t have changed anything about his gift, hadn’t it been for Gai interfering last minute.

As the energetic man had already been prior to the Fourth Shinobi War breaking out, Gai always strove to help people do their best. Especially following the war, Kakashi had found himself growing only closer to his dearest friend, seeking his advice once in a while, too. While Gai’s advice was always a double-edged blade, either too pompous or just right, over time Kakashi had become more willing to listen to what the dark-haired man was saying, his words more so an inspiration than easily dismissed ramblings.

One day until your birthday and Gai couldn’t keep his curiosity to his own anymore. So, Kakashi wasn’t surprised when the man asked what he had gotten you for your birthday.

In great detail, Kakashi began explaining his gift to Gai, barely stopping his explanation to take a deep breath or maybe sip from a drink to soothe his drying throat. He kept talking on and on, giving more information than initially requested, background information, all his scrapped ideas, and endless thoughts he had dedicated to you. And as though he couldn’t stop talking about you, Kakashi continued on and on, barely minding how Gai’s brows began settling into a slight furrow.

“My eternal rival, did you not get your lovely partner a cake?” Gai asked in his usual loud tone, so much so that he managed to catch the attention of a few people sitting around them in the bar.

Underneath his mask, Kakashi’s cheeks felt hot as his uncharacteristic rambling came to a screeching halt.

A cake? He hadn’t thought about that up until now.

Gai took a sip from his drink before he began explaining as though it was entirely obvious, “They are turning thirty, it is something to celebrate with a cake! It is once in a lifetime milestone!”

Of course, Kakashi knew that, he had once turned thirty too, after all. Luckily for him, it was a birthday he had been able to spend with you by his side, cheering him on throughout the entire day and giving him all of your love and affection. There had been barely a day like that one in his life, barely one on which he had felt as much joy as he did when he had been able to spend the entire day with you.

Kakashi awkwardly cleared his throat. “Right … a cake.” How was he gonna do that?

The few pats he had gotten from Gai on his shoulder were not the help he needed, especially as he was standing in his kitchen, doing his best at baking your favorite kind of cake for your birthday.

(Hypothetically, Kakashi could have gone ahead and bought a cake from a local bakery, chosen the prettiest and best-tasting one, and brought it home to surprise you, but he wanted to do something on his own, something more personal. He only wanted the best for you in the end.)

On the counter beside the ingredients lay a sheet with instructions for baking a cake, given to him by a kind elder lady long ago as a thank you for his help with her groceries. According to the woman, it was a family recipe of a delicious and easy-to-bake cake, passed down from generation to generation, at least until the kind woman had chosen to give him a copy too.

Kakashi was doing his best to do the recipe and also you justice, though, he soon found out that it was harder to do than initially expected. All those things he knew to do with his eyes closed while cooking suddenly seemed to just go as wrong as they could.

The first thing went wrong when he began beating the eggs to change from their yellow tone to white. In the middle of beating them, he not only remembered that he was supposed to add sugar soon, but also that he had somehow forgotten to add one egg. The fact that he forgot both made him groan aloud, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to focus on the daunting task before him. Maybe the impending headache he was forming was the reason for his growing forgetfulness, but either way, it left him a little frustrated that everything was not going to plan.

After taking a deep breath, Kakashi added the extra egg and continued to beat the eggs until white, ready to then add the right amount of sugar he double-checked this time. As written in the recipe, the mixture did indeed triple in volume, which had him breathing in a sigh of relief.

Now he had to gradually add some flour into the mixture and whisk it in. Weighing just the right amount of flower hadn’t been the problem for Kakashi, he had done this countless times already while cooking. But yet again, things weren’t meant to go right for him. As he added in the flour bit by bit, much of it missed the bowl and instead landed on his previously clean counters, causing a mess he knew he had to thoroughly clean up later before you came home. His counters were now painted white, a stark contrast to their original color.

“Nothing is going to go as intended today, is it?” Kakashi muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he moved on to the next step and went to melt the butter on his stove. To him, it felt as though he wasn’t meant to bake that cake for you, no matter how hard he tried to. That did not mean that he would stop trying because under no circumstance he would. The cake was meant to be a surprise for your birthday, and Kakashi would make sure the cake would be ready until then.

All he wanted was to surprise his spouse with something self-made, and nothing was going according to plan. A small voice in his head told him he should’ve just stuck to cooking them something, but another added that he always did that, that it wouldn’t be as special as when he baked something. Whether Gai had been right earlier was debatable, but Kakashi knew for certain that making something for his spouse was a clear sign of his affections, and all the love he held toward them.

With a heavier heart and fewer expectations than when he started, Kakashi dared to continue on. His mind was just all over the place today, a mere hour before midnight announce itself as would your birthday.

You. All he could think about was you. For you, Kakashi really wanted to make this right and bake the best cake he could, in spite of the bad day he was having so far. There was nothing he wanted more than to see you happy, and he would do anything for it to happen (even bake a cake if necessary).

Bravely, Kakashi continued, added the milk, and waited until the butter was completely melted. In comparison to the other steps, this one went better. While he was stirring the mixture carefully, his eyes traveled over to the recipe again to take a good look at the next step, one that had him hoping his streak of sudden luck would continue.

Next, he mixed some of the previously made batter into the hot milk, and luckily not one drop of anything spilled beyond the bowl. According to the kind grandmother’s notes, the step was supposed to both cool down the hot milk a little, and have the hot milk become foamy. Kakashi was especially glad when that in fact did happen, a breath of relief leaving his lips.

He only needed to pour the milk texture back into the whipped eggs, and then he would be done with the batter for the cake. He could do it.

Admittedly, his work was a little sloppy, uncharacteristically of him. While nothing ended up going over the bowl and right onto his kitchen counter again, Kakashi did feel more frustrated than he ever did when preparing a meal. He hadn’t expected baking a cake to be that difficult to do, given his skills when it comes to cooking. And yet, here he was, struggling.

In the back of his mind, he could hear your voice speaking to him, telling him not to worry about making mistakes, about not being good at everything. When he was down, you were the one pulling him up and back onto his feet, keeping him stable until he could continue on his own. Kakashi knew, that if you could see him right now, you would most likely let out one of your melodic laughs and shake your head at him. A teasing comment would fall from your lips, one that wasn’t meant seriously but rather to cheer him up. The kiss you would press against his cheek would have his cheeks heating up and reddening instantly.

For you, he would finish what he started.

As instructed in the recipe, Kakashi went to pour the now-finished batter into one of the several pans he owned, making sure that he covered the bottom with parchment paper first so the cake wouldn’t stick to it once it was done baking. Then he scraped the remains of the better out of the bowl and into the pan, making sure not to waste any of it in the process. To get out the air bubbles forming in the pan, Kakashi picked it up and dropped the cake pan onto the counter several times, successfully managing to get the bubbles out.

Despite most of the steps have gone wrong, Kakashi thought that his cake did not look too shabby. While it wasn’t what he would consider a visually appealing batter or one he would dare to attempt again, it did appear eatable so far. What he did not dare was to taste the raw batter, so, instead, he pushed the cake into the oven, set the timer to remind him later, and began washing up the used bowls and cutlery.

His hands were shaking a little as he washed each of the bowls and then dried them, nervousness beginning to build up and course through his body. There was something nerve-racking about baking a cake, or so he discovered today. Kakashi hadn’t thought of it as possible, but the thought of disappointing you quickly settled into his mind and had him anticipating the result of today’s escapade more and more with each passing minute.

Looking at the cake in the oven, Kakashi couldn’t help but grimace at his work. Despite the bright lights of his oven shining down upon the cake, they did not flatter it at all, and instead gave it the appearance of a big blob of batter just sitting there.

Exasperated with himself and his (more so Gai’s) idea, Kakashi rubbed his forehead as he watched the cake turn a golden brown shade. The smell coming from the oven was satisfying, to say the least, and even had his mouth watering a little, despite his dislike for sweet things.

The quite ironic cherry on top of the cake would be if it were to burn now, which was why Kakashi chose to keep a careful eye on it. In the meantime, he got the gift for you out of his closet and placed it so he could grab it and hand it to you once you returned from your day out with your close friends.

Excitement and anticipation were beginning to build up in his stomach and had him feeling rather queasy.

What if you didn’t like the gift he got you? That question had been bothering him for a while now. Kakashi had never been the time to care much about what other people thought of him and his actions. More so, he tended to ignore the public opinion and whisper about him. When it came to you, however, he cared more than he liked to admit. He valued your opinion a lot, and quite frankly, it also affected him.

Your disapproval would crush him, he knew that.

Luckily for Kakashi, before he could further explore that thought, the reminder he set began ringing and he immediately went to grab his oven mittens to take out the cake and place it on his counter. From first expectation, the cake had the same shade of golden brown as the recipe described to him, as did it pass the toothpick test.

What he hadn’t expected, however, had been that you would walk through the door five minutes before midnight, five minutes earlier than expected by him. As an experienced Shinobi, he should have expected such a thing to happen, he should have been prepared for it to happen, but he had been careless and as a result, was caught red-handed.

When you suddenly stood in the doorway to your shared home, Kakashi swore his heart was about to stop beating. For one, you looked so gorgeous and breathtaking, Kakashi could barely keep his jaw from falling open in both shock and awe, his pair of charcoal eyes almost shamelessly racking over your form for a moment. A mere moment later, the realization of what your presence meant settled in.

“You’re home already …” Kakashi said, quickly trailing off.

“I am,” Your gaze flittered from his flour-covered figure over to the cake placed on the kitchen counter, and then back to him again. Beside the cake lay two unopened candles shaped like the number three and one shaped like a zero, the intention rather obvious. “Is that a cake?”

One glance at the clock hanging above the doorway told him that there were only three minutes left until midnight when it would officially be your birthday. His plan was failing again, he could barely believe it.

“Yes, it is,” There was no point in hiding anything for the next few minutes or at all, especially since you had already seen what was meant to be a surprise. Your birthday, it seemed, had his head dizzy and thoughts disorganized, leaving him as unprepared as ever. Kakashi’s gaze flittered over to the cake before he took a step to the side to reveal the unfished treat to you, saying, “It’s for you.”

His nerves were practically shaking from how nervous he was becoming. If he still had his Sharingan eye, it would be activated by now, taking in your reaction without missing the instant upward tug of your lips or the way your eyes lit up in the way he loved so dearly. Your immediate positive reactions did manage to soothe some of his qualms, but not all of them.

With your eyes solely focused on the cake, you walked toward it in hesitant steps, a large smile gracing your stunning features. There was something about you, Kakashi thought as he watched your every step. To him, you were the most graceful person ever, the one who could captivate his whole attention with a mere word or action. To watch you take a look at the cake he made just for you, though with many complications, as excitement became more and more evident on your features had his heart beating faster than it did before. It practically hammered against his chest.

You turned toward Kakashi and the silver-haired man felt as he did when he first fell in love with you. Your gaze traveled over to the clock, mere seconds before midnight, and you smiled wildly at your boyfriend, joy radiating off of you in waves.

“Thank you, ‘Kashi,” You said, walking toward him to press a loving kiss to his cheek. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, taking a deep breath as your arms went to wrap around his figure. “It means a lot to me.”

Kakashi’s brows dropped into a furrow. “But you haven’t tried it yet?”

Truth was, you didn’t need to try it to know that Kakashi did his best. That was just who he is, someone who did the best he could for those he loved, and you also knew that you were lucky to be one of the people he did so much for.

“Well, it does smell amazing,” You began, further snuggling into his figure. “but I’m still a little full from my meal just now. Now I want to spend some time with my boyfriend who I love dearly, celebrate my birthday, and then have some of the best cake to top it all off.”

Kakashi swallowed the lump of worry stuck in his throat and smiled. The anxiety previously coursing through him was beginning to subdue, allowing him to gently knock his head against yours. “Alright then. But first, I still have a gift for you.”

“A gift?” You let out a gasp. You moved your head to now look at him, gaping. “‘Kashi! You didn’t have to!”

The man removed himself from you and walked over to where he had previously hidden the packed gift. Out of the cupboard, he took out the perfectly wrapped gift and hid it behind his back teasingly, walking toward you with a grin slowly becoming visible from underneath his mask.

To you, his sudden lift in spirit had become obvious quickly and had you smiling brighter than before.

Nothing could beat your reaction to when you unpacked the gift. Pure and undiluted delight, Kakashi was unsure how else to describe your reaction to it. Without a doubt, it was completely genuine, and yet, he was sure he had never seen you light up as you did the moment you opened the gift.

Kakashi was ecstatic to see that you were enjoying his gift. All the worrying he had done were almost for nothing as there was nothing to worry about in the end. He should've known, really, but the doubt everpresent in his mind had yet again managed to overpower all of his rationality.

There you were, his light, his love, his everything smiling at him as though he was the whole world. Never in his life had he felt so loved before.

Kami, he loved you so much, he barely could put it into words.

"Happy thirtieth birthday, my love." Kakashi whispered into your ear before he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips remaining there for a moment longer than necessary.

The laugh you let out had his cheeks feel warm. "You could've left the thirty out, you know?"

"I know," He quipped. "Now that we're in the same age group again, I just had to mention it."

Playfully, you slapped his shoulder and let out a huff. "Idiot."

Kakashi let out a breathy laugh at your words. "But I'm an idiot you love, right?"

How could you not? You'd be a fool not to.

"Yes."

But here you were, a happy fool instead.

#happy birthday!!#have the greatest day ever because you deserve it #i hope you enjoy reading this #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto x reader #hatake kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x you #kakashi hatake x y/n #kakashi hatake x you #hatake kakashi x y/n #fluff #kakashi cannot bake well #yes #i said that

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fangirlshrewt97 · 2 years

Text

About The Two Of Us

Well folks, @burningsheepcrown did it yet again. So this fic can be considered a follow up to yesterday’s piece. I hope you guys like it. And God I really hope this is not the start of a series, but you lot my bully me in that direction anyways.

Here’s the prompt doodle, what cuties, right???

Thanks to @jjwolfesworld for the title!

Also, apologies if I missed any typos.

///

Dhruva hummed in appreciation as the first taste of coffee hit his tongue.

“Still doing your crazy early morning runs, huh? I really thought I would have tired you out yesterday.”

Dhruva hid his smile in the rim of his mug. “I won’t lie, it was exceptionally difficult to get up, but I was already awake, so might as well. Plus, there really is something energizing about seeing the sunrise, you should try it sometime.”

Daya made a noise of disgust that had Dhruva chuckling. He turned away from his window to lean against the counter, watching as Daya rummaged through his cupboards till he made a triumphant sound and emerged with another ceramic mug. And then he frowned when he couldn’t find a coffeepot.

“Where’s your coffee pot?”

Dhruva’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he placed his own coffee on the counter and moved to Daya’s side, grabbing his mug from him. “I don’t have one, how many times have I said that the coffee tastes better when you use the filter.” Daya pouted, and God help him, Dhruva really wanted to pull him in by the drawstrings of the hoodie and kiss at his protruding lip.

Instead he busied himself with pouring the ground coffee liquid into the milk pot, mixing the liquid until it was a dark brown, and transferred it to the mug. He then grabbed the sugar and was about to add two teaspoons, when he paused. “You still take it with sugar?”

Dhruva could feel Daya’s gaze burning the side of his face. “I do.”

Dhruva nodded and mixed the sugar, suddenly feeling off kilter. He handed him the mug, shivering as their fingers brushed. Clearing his throat, he grabbed his own mug, finishing the contents and placing the cup in the sink before turning on the stove. “Sit, there is still time for breakfast before you are expected at the station.”

Except Daya didn’t do that. He reached across from Dhruva and turned off the stove again before wrapping himself around Dhruva’s back, nuzzling against his neck. Dhruva swallowed the groan. Oh how many times had he fantasized about this moment.

“I’ve not changed that much you know.” Daya finally said. Dhruva stiffened. “Dhruva-”

Dhruva shook his head, but was too selfish to push Daya away. They needed to have this conversation, even if Dhruva would rather stab himself. “Daya, I don’t- I’m sorry.”

Daya sighed heavily, leaning his forehead against Dhruva’s nape. They stayed like that for a short eternity, Dhruva’s heart threatening to give out the whole time. Because yesterday had been unexpected, a side effect of the smoke that had curled around them, last night everything Dhruva had not dared to dream of, but today, in the light of the sun, reality was knocking at their door.

Finally Daya took a step back, and Dhruva had to bite back his whimper at the loss of points of contact. Daya didn’t shift far though, just enough to put some space between them. He nudged at Dhruva’s hip so the man would turn, and then enclosed him in the bracket of his arms.

Daya was still lovely, his assessment from yesterday still stood. Here, in his kitchen in the house that still felt so impersonal, Daya’s mere presence rendered it closer to home than it had felt in the last five years. His hair was bed-rumpled, but his eyes were alert, and still capable of penetrating down to Dhruva’s very core. Daya’s shoulders seemed twice as broad as his own, his chest so solid it felt like it would anchor Dhruva against any storm.

Dhruva kept his own gaze fixed on the small silver dollar of Daya’s necklace that was peeking out of the hoodie. He took in a deep breath and talked, afraid he would never be able to say the words otherwise. And whatever the outcome, Daya deserved a proper explanation. “I got scared Daya. I felt like things were working out so well for once in my life, and it terrified me. I got the offer for the promotion, and I was so sure this was the universe’s way of telling me to leave, to get out. To leave before you broke my heart because you realized how broken and damaged I was. You were changing and growing and my god, it was breath-taking to see you transform into such a wonderful man. You deserved someone who matched that, and it was not me. I felt myself stagnating, and it scared me so much. You used to look at me with so much happiness and playfulness and I just didn’t feel like I could match up. So I left, and ended up breaking both our hearts.”

The silence following Dhruva’s speech was heavy, foreboding.

“Have you been with anyone else since you came here?” Daya asked, and it wasn’t what he was expecting but Dhruva shook his head. Besides the fact that he buried himself in his work, his heart was too shattered to contemplate the idea of another relationship. “One night, with a girl whose name I don’t even remember. I was so drunk, it was so irresponsible. I left in the middle of the night, and I was so ashamed.”

Daya hummed. Dhruva felt the bile rise in his throat but he asked the words anyways. “You?”

Daya shrugged. “Nothing that lasted more than a night. I was so angry when you left, at you for not giving us a chance. At myself for not stopping you. At the universe for taking you away from me. I practically reverted to who I was before you. It took waking up on the beach, half naked, and surrounded by my own vomit to realize that I wouldn’t let you break me. Maruti and Shravni didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment in their eyes, and that hurt almost as much as you leaving.”

Dhruva felt a tear escape. “I’m sorry.”

Daya sighed again, lifting one hand to rub at his face. He suddenly looked older, shoulders slumped with a hidden burden and Dhruva felt sick again. “You keep saying that Dhruva, but what is done is done. We can keep standing here, explaining exactly how many ways we broke our hearts over the past five years because we were so scared. But frankly, I am tired. I want to live damn it, and I want to live with you. Because despite everything,” Daya gave a bittersweet laugh that had Dhruva reaching to cup his cheek on instinct. Daya rested his head on Dhruva’s hand, closing his eyes as he took a shuddering breath before opening them to look straight at Dhruva, “despite everything, I still love you so much. I still want to see you laugh, and smile, and I want to take you home.”

Dhruva couldn’t hold back the sob, or stop himself from crashing into Daya, but the man held steady, like he always did. Dhruva’s solid ground in the storm. “You deserve better than me.”

“Debatable bangaram,” Daya whispered into Dhruva’s ear as he wrapped his arms around his waist, “but I want you. Do you still want me?”

Of all the stupid questions….Dhruva clutched at the back of Daya’s hoodie, burying himself deeper. “Every second of every day since I left our home.”

Daya held him tighter. “Come home then. Come back with me.”

Dhruva lifted his head, sniffling. He was sure he looked like a mess, but Daya was looking at him so besottedly, he didn’t care. “Now?”

Daya nodded.

Dhruva shook his head. “Daya, I- what do I tell our superiors?”

Daya shrugged. “Dhruva, we can decide about a permanent move and the logistics later. But I leave at the end of the week. Do you have any cases pending?”

“I- just one.” Dhruva confirmed.

“Then wrap it up quickly. You’re the DSP Dhruva, that gives you some authority. It won’t be an abuse of power if you say you need a break.”

Dhruva looked down. Could it really be so simple? “My life is in Hyderabad Daya.”

“What life?” and Dhruva knew he didn’t mean to be callous, but the words hurt nonetheless. Daya sighed. “I’m sorry Bangaram, but I arrived last week. For the past few days I have been observing you and what life? You are the first at the station and the last to leave, the other officers think you are a robot for how little you sleep. And even look at this place. I would bet anything you haven’t actually added any personal touch to it since you moved in.”

Dhruva burrowed into Daya again. “It didn’t seem important at the time, all I could focus on was work because then I wasn’t thinking about how much everything else hurt. And then I couldn’t see the point.”

“Come home Dhruva.” Daya pleaded in his ear. And Dhruva… so tired after all these years of building these shields and walls that were useless against the other man anyways, crumpled. The prospect of being back home, in that little house Daya had by the beach, with their porch and their familiar running routes. The quiet evenings spent smelling the sea salt air, and the warm afternoons burying their toes in the sun-baked sun. Dhruva yearned.

“Okay.”

Daya pulled back enough to look at Dhruva, face alight with so much happiness, Dhruva’s own vision blurred. “Okay?”

Dhruva nodded. “Okay.”

Daya whooped and then lifted Dhruva, spinning him in the narrow kitchen, despite his shouts of alarm. But when Daya set him down again, still laughing, Dhruva couldn’t stop his own laughter. This ridiculous man, this charming, idiotic, brave man. He pulled Daya in by the back of the neck and kissed him. His heart felt like it was taking flight in his chest, and the sun seemed to glow brighter around them as Daya pressed him against the counter. At the edge of his awareness, he heard an alarm going off. Pushing Daya away was excruciating, and Dhruva chuckled as the man merely latched onto his neck instead. He pawed at the counter till his hand wrapped around his phone. Switching off the alarm, he tapped at Daya’s head lightly with his phone. “Come on, we are running out of time, let me make you breakfast, and then we can head out.”

Daya made a dissatisfied noise and he nipped once more at Dhruva’s throat before letting him go. “Spoilsport.”

Dhurva smiled shyly at him. He tugged at the pullstrings of the hoodie. “Go shower, I’ll have the food ready by the time you are out.”

Daya leaned in to press one more kiss before he wandered away, swaying his hips in the most distracting way. It was only when he disappeared into the bedroom that Dhruva slapped himself back to focus on the task at hand.

As promised, by the time Daya wandered back out again, buttoning the top button of his shirt, Dhruva had a nice stack of crisp dosas waiting for them, and was transferring the coriander chutney from the mixer to a separate bowl. Grinning at the tantalizing smell of the dosas, Daya took his seat. Dhruva joined him, distributing two dosas each before spooning some chutney to each of their plates.

Daya groaned at the first bite, making Dhruva blush. “Damn, I really missed your cooking too.”

Dhruva kicked him lightly, only to blush further when Daya trapped his leg between his own, and threw him a cheeky wink instead.

The pair settled into a familiar, comfortable silence as they ate, unable to stop themselves from brushing hands and fingers as they tangled their legs beneath the table. At the end of the meal, Daya disappeared again to retrieve their bags as Dhruva washed their plates. The domesticity of the routine made him smile as his heart ached in his chest. He didn’t know if things really would work out as smoothly as Daya was predicting, but he was going to give it his best shot. He had nearly destroyed them once, now he would be damned if he didn’t fight just as hard to keep the best thing in his life with him always.

Especially when it wrapped itself around his back and whispered jokes in his ear, making him laugh.

///

Am I using their names too often?

Feedback is appreciated!!

Tagging (Please please work, Tumblr I beg you): @rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @junebugyeahhh @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @bluesolace1 @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @percikawantstoread @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @m3gs1mps4a @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally

#rrr #dhruya #dhruva x daya #dhruva #dhruva film #daya #temper #temper film #my fic #my writing

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