#which might be a stupid fear i’m sure she’ll listen to me

[greatooglymooglyyy]

If We Were Vampires (C.S.)

summary: chris learns to look past his fear of growing up for a future with the girl of his dreams

contains: angst, lots of emotions, chris pov, 3rd person, a bit of fluff, some suggestive content, cussing, 1.5k words

“So what, Chris? You expect me to just sit around waiting for you to man up?”

“I never said you had to. If you feel like you wanna go, then go.”

Chris replays the moment over and over again as he lies in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s been a week, and he still can’t figure out what went so wrong. He doesn’t even know how it started. But then again, he doesn’t know how any of this started.

Everybody knows what he thinks about relationships. Or more accurately how much he never thinks about them. There were just a million other things he found more interesting than chasing after some fairytale of finding the one.

But then he met her. She’d come out of nowhere, like a siren in her flowy white dress, and he’d been stuck in her orbit ever since.

He tries to call her again, but the phone goes straight to voicemail. If it wasn’t for his texts going through, he’d be sure he was blocked. Frustration floods over him and he goes to make another call before realizing she is the one he’d normally call when he felt like this.

“God, I feel so stupid.” He says, sniffling and burying his face in her neck.

“It's not stupid. You’re allowed to be sad.” She replies, her voice soothing as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Over the fucking ninja turtles?” He asks, laughing a bit at himself at how dramatic he feels.

“Over your childhood coming to an end.” She supplies, pulling away so she can look him in the eyes. “You’re allowed to be scared of what comes next.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as his eyes bounce between her kind warm ones. Somehow this girl he never went looking for has become one of the only people who can talk him off the edge.

He rests his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat for a while before he speaks again.

“Come with me to what’s next," he requests quietly, a prickle of fear rising when he realizes how much he means it.

She's silent for a beat before she holds him tighter. “If you let me,” she whispers, the slightest tinge of sadness coating her words.

The only thing in his head now is her face. Her face when she lay next to him, wiping away at his tears. Her face when he’d agree to watch one of her lame shows just to see her smile. Her face before she stormed out of his house, her hand swiping over her eyes to fight back any tears. It makes him sick to think of her like that. But it makes him even sicker to know it was his fault.

He wants to go to his brothers’ room for advice but he knows what they will say and he needs to figure this out for himself. Opening up his notes app, he begins a list of pros and cons, making the title her name and typing until his fingers ache. He stares at the list, his vision going blurry with emotion. One side is so much longer, it’s almost comical and he chokes out a laugh that turns into a sob.

There’s only one thing that haunts both sides of his list and it makes his chest ache. ‘one day, I’ll lose her.’

It’s the truth no matter which way he spins it. They might get months. They might get forty years. But one day one of them will be left behind.

Chris closes his eyes, resolve taking hold of him suddenly. He might lose her eventually. But it doesn’t have to be today.

He picks his phone up to send her a voice memo, hoping against hope that she’ll listen and understand. “Hey…I tried calling but…um…I guess you don’t want to talk to me yet. Which I get.” He sighs, annoyed at himself for how bad he’s rambling.

“Listen, I’ve been an idiot. All that bullshit about labels and dating, I didn’t mean any of it. I was just scared. But I’m way more scared of letting you walk away from me. I’m ready to grow up… or at least I’m ready to try.” He pulls his finger up, letting the memo send as he cringes at his stupid way with words.

Shaking his head and letting go of whatever morsel of ego he has left, he records another message. “Anyway, if you think you can give us another shot, please come tonight. We’re still having our craft night. It will be fun. I know Nick wants to see you… and I.. I need to see you too. Let me know.”

Hours later, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter staring at the nonexistent replies in their thread when Matt walks over.

“You alright, man?” He asks, a hint of concern in his tone. He takes a spot next to his brother, peering over to see what has his attention. Matt sighs when he sees her name and places a hand on Chris’ shoulder. “You gotta stop torturing yourself.”

Chris looks up at his brother, trying and failing to hide the shine in his eyes. “I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

Matt can’t quite find the words for a moment, stunned at the hurt on his brother's face. He composes himself quickly, biting his lip and shaking his head. “It’s going to be okay. She’ll come or she won’t. And then we’ll know.”

As their friends start to pile in and crowd around the table, Chris forces himself to stay in the moment. After his third time of running to the door at a knock and it not being her, he stays glued to his chair, trying to focus on his diamond painting.

He tries feebly to be a good host, making small talk and mild quips about Madi’s technique, but he’d like nothing more than to head downstairs and rot in his room.

Nick catches Matt’s eye, the two exchanging a brief “what the fuck do we do” glance before they head over to him. Nick leans over his shoulder, commenting on how hard of a pattern Chris chose but he just gives a disinterested nod in return.

Determined to make him laugh, Nick starts to go big, starting down rants that he knows Chris will love. He considers it a personal win when he hears Chris’ trademark laugh and places his hands on his brother's shoulders.

Chris looks up at his brothers, knowing despite their efforts to be sly exactly what they are doing, and gives them a small weak smile. He places his phone face down and gives his friends his full attention. There will be plenty of other nights to miss her.

“Must be the pizzas,” Nick mutters when he hears a faint knock on the door. He jogs down and swings the door open, stopping in his tracks when he sees her. A smile of relief breaks across his face and he pulls her into a tight hug, whispering a soft “thank god.”

They go up the stairs together, anxiousness taking hold of her when she spots him across the room. “Hi everyone.” She says quietly, the chatter pausing for a second as they look up at her.

They call out greetings but she doesn’t hear a word because Chris meets her eye, blinking slowly as if he’s convincing himself she’s really there. She wants to apologize. For being late, for ignoring his calls. But there are so many people here so she waits.

He wants to go to her and sweep her up in his arms. He wants to kiss her until they run out of air, make her understand exactly how much he wants this. But there are so many people here so he waits.

But it’s okay. For the first time, he’s confident that they’ve got time. For the first time, he’s relieved with how much time left there is to give her.

Tonight he’ll tell her for the first time how much he loves her. Tonight she’ll tell him back in a thousand different ways, her nails leaving small trails down his back as his skin meets hers again and again. And tonight he’ll watch her chest rise and fall until he can make himself believe she’s real.

But for now, he just breathes out a ragged breath and holds out his arms for her. So she goes to him, settling into his lap and starting a painting of her own. And even if he can’t make this last forever, he can have it now. And maybe it will even be enough.

🏷️: @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo

@clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz @luv4kozume

#maggie b writes #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #maggie b talks too much #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo fanfic #if we were vampires #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo x you

[ellatoone7]

Petty fights (Ella Toone x Reader)

You and Ella rarely ever fought, even if you did they were small petty fights resolved by cute kisses and soft apologies.

This time though, you weren’t sure who was more mad. It was a simple conversation gone very wrong, she had made a bad jab at your career as an actress which led you to this current screaming match.

“How fucking dare you, coming at me for my career when I could easily fault you for missing half our relationship playing with Man United.”

“You better watch yourself!” You scoff, you knew it was petty to bring her home club into it but could anyone blame you, she started it.

“It’s always my fault isn’t it! God forbid you ever take the blame for something, cause well you’re just perfect right!” Ella’s tone is venomous, something you are not used to.

You hide your face by turning your back to her, tears are threatening to fall as you try to calm yourself before you say something you’ll regret.

“I never said I was perfect.” Ella laughs, it’s not like the laugh you were addicted to instead it’s mocking and makes you feel ashamed and embarrassed.

“Maybe not, but the whole world fucking thinks it. I wonder what they’d say if they knew who you really were, an insecure little bra-“

“Shut up, Ella! Just fucking shut up!” Regret crawls up the strikers throat as you muffle your sobs, all the anger drains from her as she watches your body shake.

It’s all a blur as Millie gently cradles you leading you out of the house as you sob while Alessia stands in shock. Then Ella’s worst fear comes true when she sees who’s standing next to her blonde best friend.

Leah Williamson.

“Leah just give us a few minutes, okay? Go check on her.” Alessia’s voice was muffled as Ella was frozen under the glare of the intimidating captain.

As Leah leaves quickly checking up on you, Alessia walks closer to Ella before pulling her into a hug, all the anger replaced by regret sinks in as Ella cries into her friends neck.

“I didn’t mean it…I-I didn’t mean it.” Alessia softly shushes her kissing her temple gently a few times which has always calmed her friend.

“I know…I know you didn’t…But you still said it El. I don’t think she knows you didn’t mean it.” Ella cries harder while clinging on to Alessia’s jumper, praying that she would wake up and realise she didn’t actually say any of that stuff to you.

Later that night as Ella lays in her empty bed, she tried calling you, “Hey this is [Y/N], I’m sorry I can’t take your call rig-…El, Stop! I’m trying to make a voice message…No you can’t say anything! Ella!”

“Hello, this is Ella Toone, Aka the proudest girlfriend on earth sorry she can’t come to the phone right now she’s too busy laughing at my jokes.”

Ella can hear your laugh in the background as you try to wrestle the phone from her. Tears stream down her face as she tries to leave another Voicemail but she knows you’ll never listen to it.

Looking over at your side of the bed Ella feels lonely, utterly empty. The two of you should be wrapped up in each other right now watching whatever show came on first, laughing at how stupid your commentary is.

Instead Ella is sitting here worried that that kind of stuff might never happen again, she wouldn’t even blame you.

There was a knock on the front door as Ella races down the stairs to get it in hopes she’ll see your face, the universe hasn’t been in her side today as she opens the door to Leah.

Leah doesn’t even wait to be invited in as she walks straight past the striker pushing her back roughly with her shoulder.

“Leah, I can explain!” Leah whips her head around with force as she glares down at Ella, “You promised me you’d never hurt her!” Ella looks down in shame as she sees the tears shining in her captains eyes.

Leah didn’t sound angry, she sounded incredibly calm and Ella couldn’t help but respect her for it. “I know, I didn’t mean to.”

“Bullshit!” Ella cowers away slightly, “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it. You wanted to hit her where it hurt.” Ella opens her mouth to protest but she knows her captain isn’t wrong, Ella was upset and angry and she couldn’t control herself.

“What’s your plan?” The dead calm tone in her voice send shivers down the strikers body as she gives the girl a confused look.

“Your just gonna sit here, while she cries for you. That girl fucking loves you, Tooney! For Christ sake open your eyes, mate.”

There’s a beat of silence, “Do you love her?”

“Of course I fucking love her, with my whole heart.” There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation as the words fell from her mouth.

“Then go to her, Tooney.” Ella nods before sprinting out her door, it was a long run but she knew it was part of her punishment. Thankfully, she trained for this, her legs pushed faster than they ever had.

Ella hadn’t even realised that it was raining as she pushed herself faster, until she was standing right outside your door. Ella pounded on the door not even giving herself time to think.

You pull the door open wearing her Manchester United jersey and her joggers. She knows you’ve been crying as you quickly wipe your red eyes, trying to give her your best glare.

“Go away.” Ella heart aches but she doesn’t give up, “I love you.” Your head whips up, “I’m a asshole, I didn’t mean I word I said, not one, I swear down.” A small smile slips onto your face at her Manchester slang but you cover it quickly still mad at the woman.

“I’m sorry, I’m head over heels for ya.” You walk closer to her watching the rain drip down her skin and soak her clothes, you can’t help but think she looks so pretty.

“Never talk to me like that again.” Ella nods wildly and apologetically, all she wants is for you to be in her arms right now. She slowly walks forward until you fall into her and she sighs in relief.

“I promise, I will never hurt you intentionally ever.” You nod breathing her in, not even caring how she sticks to you from the rain.

“If it helps, you look really cute in my jersey.” You slap her chest as she laughs, “Take it in, because I’m never wearing a Man United jersey again.”

“We’ll see.”

#ella toone #ella toone imagines #ella toone x reader #ella toone imagine #woso x reader #muwfc x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #woso #muwfc

[raphmybeloved]

After The Fight

This is a little fic for @idiot-mushroom 's Where We Belong au which you should for sure check out! For context, Raph (going by Snapper) is a fighter in the Battle Nexus and at this point Mikey (going by Orange) acts as his medic. This AU lives rent free in my head and I couldn't help but write a little something.

The roaring of the crowd is deafening. It almost but not quite drowns out the sounds of the battle raging in the arena. 

Orange tries not to pay attention to either sound as he sits cross legged on a wooden bench adding a new design to his plastron. The angle is hard to manage but he had just managed to track down a silver marker and his plans for the latest drawing are ambitious.

Besides it isn’t  like he needs to watch the fight, he’s seen enough of them and he already knows how it will end. No need to see the carnage this time.

Sure enough the cheers get louder signaling the end of the match. 

“Big guy is ready for you,” one of the handlers says, ducking his head into the room. Orange caps his marker and hops down from the bench. He stretches and then grabs his medic bag hoping that he won’t need to use it but knowing that he will.

As he walks into the holding room they use for Snapper he immediately knows it’s going to be a rough one. The fighter is pulling against his mystic restraints, thrashing hissing and growling in a manner that would strike fear into any yokai.

Orange isn’t any yokai though and he’s never been afraid of his brother.

“Hey Snaps!” He greets in a forced cheery voice as he begins to examine Snapper’s wounds, from a distance of course, he might not be afraid of his brother but he’s not stupid. 

The injuries aren’t too bad. Some claw marks on Snapper’s arms, a bite on his shoulder, a swollen hand that probably means broken fingers. Most of the blood on his plastron is not his and while he definitely needs to be patched up he’s not in danger of passing out or bleeding out anytime soon.

Now that Orange has some idea of what injuries he needs to take care of it’s time for the hard part. Time to calm his brother down from the semi-feral state he goes into during hard fights.

“Looks like you didn’t get too badly hurt big guy.” Snapper just bites at the air in response. “Check it out I’ve started to finally use the silver marker I got,” Orange says brightly gesturing at the half finished drawing on his plastron. “Oh! Also Mama said she’ll pull some strings and try to get Draxum to let redeye and soft shell have a sleepover for my birthday isn’t that cool!!”

Through years of practice Orange has learned that familiar voices help calm his brother and rambling at him for a while can bring him back. He forces a cheerful voice and does that for a while, talking about little things like his new projects and what they should get for dinner and plans for the future. 

About fifteen minutes into his rambles Orange frowns realizing it’s not working. Snapper is still pulling at his restraints hissing and biting at the air. Orange quickly looks around to see if they are being listened to. There’s one last way to get him to calm down but it’s risky. Seeing the coast is clear he gets as close to Snapper as he can while staying out of attack range and lowers his voice.

“Hey Raph,” he says in a soft voice. “It’s me, your brother. I’m here. Come on Raph.” Using Snappers former name is dangerous, Big Mama doesn’t like it and it’s a punishable offense but it always helps Snapper when he’s really bad like this.

Sure enough he stops fighting and starts blinking, eyes getting less cloudy and pupils returning. Orange reaches out and puts a gentle hand on his brother's cheek. “There you are big guy,” he says with a smile.

Snapper’s mouth opens and closes a few times as if he’s trying to figure out how to speak. Eventually he manages to push the words out.

“You okay?” He asks Orange, who in turn steps back and shows Snapper that he’s unharmed. It’s an old routine after Snapper almost took his finger off once. Orange hates how much relief Snapper gets from it, hates that his brother is so terrified that he’ll hurt him.

“I’m all good! Time to get you fixed up, you won by the way,”  Orange says and Snapper snorts.

“I always do.”

Orange reaches  into the pouch strapped to his waist and pressing the button that loosens Snappers restraints. Snapper slumps to the ground and lets Orange begin his work. He talks the whole time, mostly repeating what he had talked about when Snapper was in his savage state but now to a brother who can nod along and ask questions.

Orange hates this. Hates that his brother is sent to fight. Hates that he’s treated like a wild animal. Hates that Orange has to tend to his wounds as Snapper gets hurt. Hates that the woman who calls them her sons does this to them over and over. 

For all he hates his situation though he is grateful for one thing. At least the two of them have each other. At least Snapper isn’t doing this alone and Orange can be there to comfort him. For now that’s enough. It has to be.

#rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #where we belong au #rise mikey #rise raph #original creator of this au if you want this taken down I will

[myrrhmaidwrites]

Ooh, you write JD and TZ? Yes!!! They're my faves!!

I do have a prompt idea which part of my brain is shy about but I will still give it a go:

"Jamie's birthday is coming up and it's the big 2-1, milestone. He thinks Trevor may have forgotten but no way does that happen. Trevor's just been sneaky planning a surprise."

Sorry this took me so long to get around to! I hope you don't mind that I took a few liberties with this prompt--namely, it's a college AU and a wlw AU.

Happy fucking birthday.

Jamie knew having her twenty-first birthday the day the playoffs started would mean a low key celebration. Fro-yo with the team instead of the customary trip to Spencer’s for a birthday shot.

There were other traditions too, but Jamie wasn’t supposed to know about them. Last year, after Trevor’s twenty-first, Trevor had snuck into her room after “dining hall meatloaf quality sex” (a direct quote) to snuggle Jamie, complain about the guy, and give Jamie a sneak peek into the other birthday traditions.

A sash was mandatory, as was birthday hat. Jamie wasn’t mad to be missing those.

But she was maybe feeling mad that the team seemed to have forgotten about her birthday entirely.

Sure, they all wanted to get focused and get to bed early. But like—not one gif in the team chat? Not one Instagram story? No messages except from her immediate family?

She might mention it after the game tomorrow. If they win, if they go out after, maybe she’ll buy herself a birthday treat.

For now, she doesn’t have the energy to do anything but finish her econ reading, do a halfhearted job on the quiz, and put on an episode of Avatar. It’s not late, but if there were going to be team plans, someone would have texted by now. She pulls the covers to her little dorm bed up under her chin and falls asleep to the sound of Zuko’s raspy voice.

A knock at the door wakes her. Netflix is still playing, so she hasn’t been asleep that long.

“Hello?” she calls.

Mason never knocks, since it’s her room too.

“Jamie?” Trevor says, poking her head in. “You asleep?”

“No, not really,” Jamie says.

Trevor invites herself in, flips on Jamie’s bedside lamp and turns out the awful overhead light.

“Have a good day?” Trevor asks, scooting closer.

Jamie swore she’d deal with the birthday stuff later, but her eyes won’t listen. She can feel them welling with tears, and she looks up at the ceiling so they won’t fall.

“Oh god Jamie are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she manages. She stops there for fear that her voice will break.

“You’re not sick? Hurt?” Trevor hops on the bed and tilts Jamie’s chin towards her.

“I’m fine, really,” Jamie says. She wrenches her face away and wipes at her eyes. “I just thought—I know it’s the playoffs, but everyone forgot about my birthday.”

“What? Jamie, no, no one forgot, they all wanted—I just asked them to—fuck, I’m so stupid. Here.” She hands Jamie a bag from Chipper’s, their local fancy ice cream shop. Earlier in the year, Jamie and Trevor went there after a social and Trevor teased her for ordering chocolate.

“It’s a classic,” Jamie said.

“It’s basic,” Trevor said, but after she tried a bite, she conceded that Chipper’s did have especially delicious chocolate ice cream.

Tonight, inside the bag, is one of their fancy small-batch alcoholic ice creams. Chocolate liqueur, reads the label, and Jamie remembers this flavor was their February special. Trevor must have bought it then and saved it until now.

“For me?” Jamie asks.

“Well—if you want. Or we can share it. Or we can call Mason and the rest of the team up here so you know they’re not all terrible friends—”

Just then, Jamie’s phone pings with a couple of notifications. People are tagging her on their Instagram stories, and there’s a couple of messages in the group chat, too. Trevor must have, like, coordinated this whole thing, let people know when the surprise was happening.

“No, that’s—that’s fine. It can be just us.”

“I should have planned this better. It’s just—I wanted to do this for you.”

“You have spoons? Come on, this ice cream won’t eat itself.”

It’s still the night before playoffs, and they’re using weak plastic spoons, so they don’t have more than a few bites each. Jamie insists on plenty of water to wash it down.

And if she spends maybe a little too long looking at a smear of chocolate on Trevor’s lips, well.

That’s between her and the ice cream.

#jdtz #611 #3446 #drygras #my ficlets #ask! #answered

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + "Your hands are shaking."

Post-s2 grayspace is always a fun time + honestly a squirrel bite PROBABLY wouldn't do significant damage right? PG-ish and also on ao3.

If this strange new world doesn’t kill him, she just might.

Abby is still resolving some of her emotional developments, which is to say it’s been a month since the last time she almost died and that’s given her just enough time to realize that changes in certain dynamics may not have just been temporary and panic-induced. She’s trying to be vague about it to keep her options open, because she knows this doesn’t work out long-term, because the idea of living in a world where someone who’s been her nemesis for most of her life isn’t is destabilizing and-

Fine, there are a lot of things going on and even her usual ability to thrive in chaos is hitting a few limits she didn’t know she had, but somehow this is the most distressing part. Trying to reestablish some kind of normal on the ground… not easy, not going according to anyone’s plans, but probably doable. Not knowing where her daughter is… not good, but there’s probably some kind of reason for that and Abby isn’t worried about survival abilities there at the very least. Actually caring about someone who has repeatedly and intentionally ruined her life over a period of multiple decades but apparently hit his head at some point during his attempt at getting himself killed by the elements six weeks ago and has since attempted a quiet but bizarre redemption tour…

The problem isn’t just that Marcus has rapidly and unexpectedly fixed almost every issue any living thing has ever had with his personality, although that’s still weird as hell and again Abby is pretty sure some kind of brain trauma is the most likely explanation. No, the problem is along with this sudden not-being-a-terrible-person behavior, he’s also lost the survival drive that made him useful even when he was doing unlikable things like, y’know, trying to kill her. At least up in the sky he was a competent asshole. Down here, she’s not so sure about that. Down here…

“And what exactly happened?” she asks, even though she would prefer to have no idea why she’s currently disinfecting some kind of bite on her counterpart’s thigh. At least whatever got him this time was small, but small with fangs is still not friendly wildlife, and-

“Something in the vicinity of a squirrel,” he replies in an even enough tone to suggest he probably rehearsed this explanation on the way back home. “It didn’t bite anyone else, before you even-“

“Before I what, exactly?”

She’s going to kill him. If mutant squirrels don’t beat her to it – she’ll process that that’s the latest competition later – she will, so help her.

“Never mind.”

“If you think I’m so concerned about you, you could just say-“

“I don’t need to say anything. Your hands are shaking. That’s clear enough.”

She glances down and the worst part is he’s not wrong. There is visible concern in her movements, and thankfully she’s just trying to clean the dried blood off the wound not do anything more to it, and-

“You can’t do this to me,” she murmurs, well aware that her fear will not be respected. “You can’t go and do stupid shit and-“

“I wasn’t sure you cared before.”

Abby makes a low bitter noise and looks away, not trusting how her face might betray her since apparently no part of her body is listening to her mind right now. “I’ve dealt with you in this sort of position how many times in the past few months and you still weren’t sure-“

“The debt of trying to keep someone alive is not the same as-“

“Damn right it isn’t,” she mutters. “But whatever game you’re playing… you can stop now. I don’t hate you anymore. I’m not sure I ever have. And trying to make friends with every mutant creature that crosses your path isn’t-“

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

She refocuses on the task at hand, and at least whatever bit him didn’t even go deep enough to scar. The wound had closed neatly enough before she got to it, she’s more cleaning it than actually trying to mend, and everything will be okay, and-

“I’m tired,” she murmurs, and she hasn’t said those words out loud in a very long time. “I am so, so tired. And you might be the only person who’d listen to me if I asked you to-“

“I will try not to get attacked by mutant rodents if I can avoid it,” he says, and this too feels rehearsed, like he’s trying to follow a script they used to cling to that doesn’t apply as much as it once did. “Is that what you want?”

“I need you to avoid more than mutant rodents. Unnecessary risk. Period. I know that’s not where you are right now but-“

“I don’t know where I am. But if it makes you happy…”

“You don’t need to fix what you’ve done by trying to bleed out.”

They’ve had this conversation before, a month ago when neither of them wanted to move, when they’d both nearly bled out and it had been a mutual decision to be miserable and useless together for a few days until stubbornness pushed them out of mandatory rest. It feels different now as a free choice, as something with actual motivation behind it and-

“What if that’s all there is?”

“Not right now,” she replies. “I can’t… I can’t talk you down right now. Not when you’ve just gone and-“

“Let it go. I’m fine.”

“This time, yes. Next time? I can’t know.”

They are too close to an edge, too close to too many things that could be destruction or salvation or maybe those are one and the same. But not right now. She can’t let it. Not right now. Not…

“I’ll try. For you.”

She can almost believe him.

Almost.

#ebf writes fic #kabby #queue

[bestfluteninja]

🙃😔😶😑

#fuuuuuuuuck #to the tune of...something idk what it just has a vaguely songlike quality in my head: #am i bi or am i a lesbian? am i bi or am i a lesbian? #i can’t figure out what my feelings are about two specific boys #and i’ve never actually gotten to date a girl for real #just. fuck #sexuality crisis in the middle of my first hour calculus class for today <3 #don’t reblog this #but if you have ANY advice at all i would GREATLY appreciate it #fuuuuuuuuuuuck #and like what if my best friend won’t stop calling me a lesbian #which might be a stupid fear i’m sure she’ll listen to me #but she just like references it a lot and it makes me vaguely uncomfortable to have her saying ‘oh yeah hannah’s a lesbian’ #idk it just sits wrong with me and i want her to stop spreading that #because i Don’t Know what my sexuality is so shut up about it please #shit i should tell her this shouldn’t i #personal #shut up hannah

[zeldas-cigarrette]

July.

AU where Cate isn’t married.

summary; you’ve been in australia on vacation and made a new friend, maybe more than just a friend. When your time comes to an end you reminisce the last weeks and doubt your feelings.

—❥ author’s note; I will get back to my requests but this came to my mind and I wanted to write it down quickly before I forget it:)

tag list; @paulawand ✨

Her laugh reminded you of better times, it all just felt so easy with her by your side but it seemed as if it all was slipping away from you and you had no control over it.

„What are you thinking about?” her raspy voice tore you out of your mental prison. You were at a loss for words, you told yourself to be careful, not to get attached to anyone anymore because everything ends, sooner or later. „Nothing,” you smiled at Cate’s face knowing that whatever lies you’d tell her she wouldn’t believe it anyway. The last five weeks passed quicker than a second, you thought. No, you didn’t search for a relationship or anything close to it. When you had spent your first week in Australia, as clumsy as you are, you bumped into a woman on your way to a train station. It was her, the woman with the gorgeous ice-blue eyes, with the golden blonde hair softer than velvet, Cate. It was a coincidence but felt like true fate.

You promised yourself that you wouldn’t get attached, never again. Honestly, it felt beautiful, you were longing for such a connection all your life, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the time after. Cate never seemed to have doubts, you two never talked about the thing you had, you only enjoyed the time together. But since it was soon time to say goodbye, it worried you. It was hard to tell what you two were, friends, friends with benefits, lovers? You had no control over the situation which you usually had, this messed you up internally. What will you do when you leave? Kiss her goodbye, hug her, not even saying anything?

„You’re thinking, what is it?” her sudden question startled you anew. „I’m just thinking about, tomorrow,” your voice was thin as paper. Tomorrow, just a normal day. The last day before you’re heading back to the Uk. Cate nodded and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You loved the soft touch of her hands, and the very often occurring moments when she pecks your lips. „Do you remember the day we met?” you asked moving your head up from her legs. It became a rather nice habit of watching the sunset in the evenings. „Yes, I had a cupcake and it landed on my shirt,” she chuckled a bit lost in her head. You ruined her blouse when you bumped into her, but she didn’t seem to mind when the woman saw who caused the mess on her beloved flowery shirt. It seemed as if Cate was the only person that knew exactly what was going on in your mind, both of you shared deep conversations over the last weeks. So deep, that she told you her biggest fears and you told her.

Loneliness. Being alone was one of your worst fears. Years and years of loneliness were finally over when you decided to simply leave. The time with Cate made you realise that the loneliness of the last couple of years was the scariest thing in your life. The summer haze and summer wine reminded you of better times. Better times, you wanted them. But you weren’t sure if you could have them back home. You didn’t even know if the Uk was your home. Those thoughts were a cruel burden that seemed to never go away.

„I wish we could stay like this forever,” the blonde sighed and untangled her wavy hair. At this moment you thought, maybe it was mutual. „Me too.” You caught a last glance of the sun before it set peacefully behind the ocean. „I like it here,” it was a quick statement that you regretted have made. „It’s mesmerising,” Cate’s voice sounded dreamy. It was the end of July, winter in this country, when you arrive back home you’ll have a solid month before it turns autumn. „I’ll miss you, you know?” It took you by surprise. „Will you?” you asked out of curiosity. She nodded.

You had taken the midnight bus a couple of times, without a destination you wanted to go. Just someplace. Cate joined you from time to time, you danced together in the moonlight, listened to music.

„What are we?” it came like a whisper over your lips, so scared were you to say the wrong thing. She laughed, almost mockingly. You regretted asking, you knew it was stupid. What should you two be? What did you expect? You’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks. „I thought you’d never ask,” Cate replied relieved. Was she waiting for you to question the bond between you both? „I like what we have, I don’t know what will happen in the future but I don’t want to lose this,” she explained and looked at you, waiting for a reaction. What the woman just said made your heart flutter a little. „Me neither,” you whispered, anxiously biting your nails. „Maybe we could try to keep this steady,” she paused before adding another sentence, „and maybe it can become something beautiful.” You had liked that very much, you wanted it to become something you could depend on in your life. Maybe a beautiful relationship? —♡︎

Two days later your flight back home was scheduled. You didn’t fear the departure from your chosen home because she told you not to worry, she’d told you no matter what she’ll be there for you despite the thousand of miles between. It made you feel at ease to know that you don’t have to be lonely if you don’t want to. During the flight you slept most of the time, there were only a few moments in which you were awake enough to order food or water. Deep down you were looking forward to seeing your friends again. They were never the reason why you felt lonely, it was all the other little things that made you feel so little, so unintelligible.

Arriving at the airport, your friends were already waiting at the gate for you two to walk out. Seeing their smiley faces released an inner warmth in you, it was contagious so your lips curved into a smile as well. They took you to a restaurant for lunch afterwards the five of you went to Hyde Park and you told them every explicit detail about your vacation. You told them about Cate and how you two were working it out. You hoped it so bad. The last weeks were the happiest you had ever been and you liked the happy version of yourself. They seemed to like that version of you too.

Every day you talked to her on the phone, even though it was in the middle of the night. She was worth it. Hearing her voice was like an escape from the boring and demanding everyday life of yours, so soft and light it sounded from the speaker. Weeks passed and the conversations got shorter but you didn’t want it to be true. No. You held onto it for your dear life. Almost as if your happiness depended on her. „I have to go, work starts.” It was that exact sentence you had heard over and over again, it could’ve been true if she hadn’t had called on different times. You looked it up on the internet what times it was in Australia. Maybe she didn’t see the two of you together in the future.

„Cate?” you almost didn’t dare to ask. „Huh?” it sounded as if she didn’t care about what was coming next. „What’s going on with you? You seem pretty distant and I really don’t know what to do about it,” your voice was shaky, fragile. If she wanted to break your heart, she better do it now, you thought. „Y/n, look,” it took her a few seconds to carry on, „I don’t think we make sense, we’re so far apart… And I don’t think I can do this anymore, I love you very much but…” You never declared it as anything official, you said your I love you’s a lot but this one hurt a lot. You knew that this day might come, but you didn’t expect it to be so very soon. „Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s best if we just stop right here,” you tried not to sound as if you were crying because you were. We’re you even allowed to cry after such a short time?

Your life went on, you were alone again. Not that you didn’t know how it feels, it just felt better to have someone you can share your troubles with. You missed the taste of cherries on your lips when you kissed someone, Cate tasted like cherries. Everyone else just tasted like cold cement.

#cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #australia #gay #summer romance #thor ragnarok #middle aged actresses #loveislove #angsty #fluff #x reader imagines #fanfiction #sapphic #fanfic #wlw love #wlw #carol 2015 #carol aird

[aseioh]

Of Cakes and Late Celebrations

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be posted on Mother's day. But just like this fic, I got derailed and ended up being late. (picture taken from the internet)

It was Mother's day.

Or to be precise it will be Mother's day in 15 hours 25 minutes. It shouldn't be a problem for Alcina, she usually just buys something from the Duke to give to Mother Miranda.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not possible right now. The Duke was delayed with his routine arrival at the castle opening, something about a spooked horse and lycans trying to get a nibble.

Honestly she lost interest after the word delayed was spoken through the phone. How is she going to remedy this. The gift itself was one of the finest silk she was able to obtain, she was sure Mother would appreciate a new ritual robe.

This is bad. To show up without a gift on this special day. She was sure she would be made a mockery during the gathering. Whats worst was that fool Heisenberg would be the first to lead with his pathetic insults.

Just the thought made Alcina's blood boil.

”I should send Bela to switch that man's shampoo with dog shampoo. Although the man still smells like wet dog. No. I'll think of something more devious.“

But back to the matter at hand. It's almost Mother's day and she doesn’t have a gift. Taking a deep drag off her cigarette, she considers her dwindling options.

At western part of the village

Donna is also facing a similar problems.

"What do you mean you're not coming?! Where am I supposed to find a present at this hour?!" Angie's raspy voice filtered through the phone "do you know how hard it is to find a 1st edition book on occult and rituals."

"Apologies Miss Angie, but the horse spooked and the carriage suffered a broken wheel. Even if the servants manage to haul themselves your house to the Duke's location and back it would still be too late." The main servant said trying to sound as apologetic as he can come across.

"This would not do" Donna said finally in her normal voice.

Somewhere inside the Stronghold.

Karl Heisenberg was having a meltdown.

"YOU STUPID LYCANS! I GAVE YOU ONE JOB AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!!" Heisenberg paces around the small assembly hall. Ten Lycans looked very apologetic, although it was very hard to tell from their looks. One even lets out a soft whimper.

“I told you to stall The Duke for a while. I didn’t said to derail him completely. The man has a package for me, now how am I supposed to get it!?” Heisenberg seethes.

His plan was a simply one really. Stall The Duke so that he would arrive at Castle Dimitrescu late, that way Alcina would not get her package and present it to Mother Miranda. That would show her, a little payback for calling him a child.

What he didn’t count on was the utter incapability of the Lycans to follow simple directions. Now even he doesn’t have a gift. Oh Miranda’s gonna blow a gasket.

“Augh... I hate the consequences of my actions” He lamented

 At Moreau’s Reservoir

“NOOOOOOO!! That’s not fair, that’s not fair!!!” Moreau starts throwing his stuff on the floor. He had finally saved up his money to buy Mother Miranda that nice jewelry that would go perfectly with her black wings.

“Someone’s gonna pay” He vows to take revenge on the Lycans responsible for his problem.

 After all his pet fish has been hungry for some Lycan meat.

 Castle Dimitrescu (13 hours until Mother’s day)

“I have gathered you here today for a very important meeting” Alcina starts looking at the sad (Donna) and tearful (Moreau) faces of her so called ‘siblings’. Heisenberg is surprisingly calm which puts Alcina on high alert, but lets it slide in favour of the more pressing matter

“We have a big problem. The Duke will not arrive on time for Mother’s Day. That means all the presents we bought for Mother will not arrive”

“We need a solution, any ideas?”  

“We kill the Lycans responsible and feed them to my fish”

“Yes Moreau, but that’s after we solve this problem” Donna said and tries to placate a Moreau by patting him at the back.

“Whoa, that’s a bit dark but I like it. And Moreau is right, we’re gonna make fish food out of those Lycans” “Better off those basdards, after all I don’t want to implicate myself” Heisenberg thinks

“People, you’re missing the point here” Alcina says pinching her nose to ward off an incoming headache. “Listen, we don’t have time. You know Mother Miranda, She’ll say she wasn’t really expecting something and then low-key punishes us for missing the day. We don’t want a repeat of the 1967 incident do we?”

Moreau whimpers from the trauma.

Donna goes into a slight trance and starts to shake.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough” Heisenberg stands. “Why don’t we just bake something and say it’s from all of us”

 *beat*

“Do you know how to bake?”

“I work at the Factory, I make steel molds for a living how hard could it be?”

“That doesn’t answer my question Heisenberg”

“We could make a small doll” Donna pipes up

“Sorry Donna that would still take time. And I don’t think we have the right materials on such short notice.” Alcina says

“For someone who’s looking for a solution you sure are shooting down all of them”

“Because it’s not feasible Heisenberg.” Alcina huffs “Can you gather all the materials in less than 10 hours? No? Of course not”

“And I keep telling you just BAKE A CAKE!”

“I don’t know how to bake, child! I’m a BLOODY COUNTESS not hired help” Alcina bellows at Heisenberg

“I know how to bake”

Everyone turns to Donna.

“Really?”

“Of course, I used to watch my Mother bake cakes before the accident. I just need help decorating. I never got a hang of that part” Donna beams with pride as she explains the basics of baking

“And we can gather the ingredients no problem. You have a pantry here somewhere right Alcina?” Moreau asked

“Of course. We always have a full pantry for the servants.” At that Heisenberg looks at Alcina with a hint of disbelief

“What? We need them healthy to serve us. I’m not a complete monster.” Alcina defends

“In any case we should start early. It takes time to cool and decorating is hard”

 Castle Kitchen (12 hours 30 minutes before Mother’s Day)

It was truly a sight to see. In a way it was enough for the Castle’s servants to wet themselves in fear when they saw the 4 Lords gathered at the kitchen in various forms of concentration. Needless to say, everyone was warned to steer clear of the kitchen for now.

Moreau was together with Donna supporting her with mixing the wet ingredients. Meanwhile, at the other side of the cooking station Alcina and Heisenberg are charge of measuring out the dry ingredients.

“You need to be precise, don’t put too much. Remember what Donna said and look at the damn recipe”

“I know what I’m doing you damn woman. I’m all about precision. Why don’t you move away and get that mixing bowl at the top shelf.” Heisenberg grouched

“I’m not your servant. And I certainly will not start fetching stuff for you” Alcina shot back

“Alcina, we need to work together. We don’t have time and you’re the tallest of us all. Please cooperate with Karl just this once. Please?” Donna implored

“Once. I’m helping him for this one time only. When I get my hands on the Lycan responsible for this problem, I’m gutting him and throwing him at Moreau’s reservoir.” At Donna’s admonishment of Alcina, Heisenberg gives a shit eating grin, showing some rather very pointy canines.

“And Heisenberg, stop provoking Alcina.” Donna adds

“Fine, you’re no fun Donna”

Suffice to say, the baking went well. Who knew that the 4 Lords working together would be a great success? If only Mother Miranda saw her children working together peacefully she might have had a heart attack and thought that she suffered one as well.

Or she might have been dreaming.

 Castle Kitchen (6 hours before Mother’s Day)

“Alright, the cake has cooled down completely, So what color will be the icing?” Donna asked

“Yellow” “Cream” “Light Blue” the other three said simultaneously.

 *beat*

“Light blue? Really? Not everything needs to be manly Heisenberg”

“And not everything needs to be boring like your color, Alcina”

“It should be yellow, like Mother’s sunny smile” Moreau explains

“And in which ever universe has Mother ever smiled like the sun?” Heisenberg counters Moreau

“Hey now. No need for that tone!”

“Tsk, sorry Moreau” Heisenberg apologizes to a quiet Moreau

“Fine, let’s do pastel yellow it’s easier for the eyes anyway” Donna supplies, getting ready to start coating the cake with the yellow cream

 Inside the Sanctuary

“Happy Mother’s day”

“We hope you like the cake Mother”

“Yes, we poured out our love in baking it. I hope you appreciate it” Heisenberg said

“Why thank you loves. This is a wonderful surprise. And Moreau said that you all worked together in baking it. How wonderful!” Mother Miranda said grateful for once that her children worked together without collateral damage (that she knew of).

“Although Heisenberg, I heard something interesting from Urias” Mother Miranda looks pointedly at Heisenberg, who for some reason starts to sweat and turn pale.

‘oh shit’ “Really Mother? Good news I hope” Heisenberg tries to bluff his way out.

“Why it was quite peculiar really. He said that you got 10 of his Lycans for a special project. I wasn’t aware that you have some side projects”

 The 3 Lords turn to Heisenberg

“Wait what?”

“I KNEW IT!!” Alcina unsheathes her claws

“You’re responsible for this mess in the first place!!”

“Really guy relax, if anything I just proved that we need more than one traveling merchant in the village for a successful and on time delivery” Heisenberg starts to carefully ease his way to the nearest exit.

 “GET HIM”

In the end, Alcina was more than ready to feed Heisenberg to Moreau’s pet fish. Only Donna stopped her, citing Moreau would probably be inconsolable if his pet got indigestion from all the metal.

And that is how Heisenberg saw himself in doggy jail for a week along with his Lycan cohorts. Mother Miranda did get her Mother’s day gifts from her children although a bit later than expected.

 And the cake?

 The cake was surprisingly delicious.

#resident evil village #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #Late Mother's day fic #in which the 4 lords learn to cooperate for their own good #because no one wants to be in Mother Miranda's bad side

[novelconcepts]

fic: walking with the lady

Every movie, every book, every story about the horrors of letting in the ghosts has prepared Dani for the constant state of alarm. The panic. The discomfort of the situation.

Not a single goddamn one told her how stupid it would be.

***

The first time Viola Lloyd rears her spectral head outside of a dream, Dani is doing her best to enjoy an incredibly pleasant spring morning. She’s been having strange thoughts--strange echoes of night terrors that have been escalating, images weaving as though shot from the depths of some great ocean--for a few months now. Has been trying her very best to take Jamie’s advice and not worry about it. One day at a time. Stop gazing into every reflective surface in the county and just...live. 

And she’s been doing that, she thinks, with a decent amount of peaceful abandon for a woman carrying an unknown beast in the depths of her psyche. She’s traveled. She’s seen much of America, and more of Jamie. She’s learned she’ll never get any better at tea, that she’s honestly not terrible at pasta, that she can talk the ear off old women who just want to stop and smell the flowers. It’s been a serene six, seven, eight years, if she lays them all end to end, and she’s glad of it. 

But the dreams are coming faster now. With more regularity. Long stretches of night fade into black and white, into memories she can feel with her whole body, but knows aren’t her own. Corsets and sweeping skirts, a sister she never had, a husband. A child. None of this belongs to Dani, so it must be her, mustn’t it? 

It scares her. She talks about it to Jamie when she wakes--sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the night; whether she’s truly awake or not, Jamie always listens. They always hunker back down, holding tight to one another, Jamie whispering into her hair that you’re still here, you’re still you, it’s all okay, Poppins. It helps, as much as anything’s going to. 

What doesn’t help is sitting here on this park bench, a list of shopping plans open in her lap, and hearing--hearing isn’t even the right word for it, it’s like a ringing voice coming up from the very back of her head--someone say, “And what on earth is that?”

Dani sits straight upright, every line of her body rigid with fear. “What...is what?”

She’s said the words out loud, she realizes when an elderly man with a basket of stale bread turns slowly to look at her. Her mouth twists itself into a rictus grin of apology, and he shuffles off, looking very much like a man prepared for his own murder at the hands of a lunatic schoolteacher. 

“Well,” the voice says, coolly amused. “That was embarrassing for us both.”

What, Dani thinks, the fuck is going on?

“What’s going on,” Viola Lloyd’s deep, accented voice says, “is truly beyond my knowledge. Do you know the last time I had this many thoughts of my own? Must have been...oh, three hundred years, now...”

Why, Dani thinks furiously, are you having them now?

“I certainly couldn't say.” Viola sounds astonished. “The last I recall, I was trying to reclaim my child--”

Flora, Dani interrupts with a rush of anger, was not your child. 

She imagines she can feel Viola’s hand flip to and fro, carelessly. “It’s all apples in the end, isn’t it?”

She’s clenching her fists in her lap, she realizes, as if there’s anything to fight. As if she could ward Viola off from inside her own body. 

“Oh,” Viola says coolly, “I wouldn’t worry just yet. I couldn’t say for sure--it’s all rather new, you must understand--but I don’t think I could do anything to you. Not yet. Look, here, I’ll try...”

Dani’s muscles strain against an invisible force that never comes. Viola chuckles. 

“See? Nothing. The lights are on, my dear, but none but you is really home.”

Then why are you awake? Dani demands. 

“Not a clue, darling. It’s nice, though, isn’t it? You really take it for granted in life.”

Take what for--

“Seeing,” Viola breathes. “I haven’t seen anything properly in centuries. I’d forgotten how bright the world was. How full of...color.”

Is it Dani’s imagination, or does Viola’s tone hold an edge of disgust on that final word?

“So, again, I find myself asking. What on earth do you call that?”

Dani allows instinct to turn her head, somehow sensing the direction Viola wishes for her to look. She finds herself staring at a young child playing at her mother’s feet. 

I--it’s... And it’s here, in this moment, faced with the nearly impossible task of explaining to the 400-year-old ghost woman who shares her body what a Slinky is for that Dani Clayton decides this whole cohabitation thing might have been a mistake. 

***

“Hang on,” Jamie says. “Hang on, she’s awake in there?”

Dani, folded nearly double on their couch with her face in her hands, nods. Her head is pounding. Viola has been, ah, what’s the polite way to put it? Running her mouth. For nearly four hours. 

“She’s got some...opinions,” Dani mumbles into her cupped hands. Jamie stops rubbing light circles into her back, curious. 

“About what?”

“Might be a shorter list, to ask what she doesn’t have an opinion about,” Dani says. At the back of her head, she feels Viola cross her arms. 

“This sounds like you are on the path to impudence, Miss Clayton.”

“But hang on, I thought--” Jamie seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought she was just sort of...in there. Tucked away, like the kids said. What do you mean she can see?”

Dani blows out a long breath, wishing dearly for a cigarette. “I don’t know, Jamie, I’m not the authority on carrying Victorian women around in my skull.”

“Bit nearer to it than me, Poppins.” Jamie’s smiling, plainly trying to make her feel better. Dani turns to glower at her. 

“I love you very much. Please don’t test me right now. She hasn’t stopped talking for more than twenty minutes all afternoon.”

Jamie raises her hands in surrender. “Can she...can she see me now?”

“Tell her,” Viola says. “Tell her I can see her, and her mannishly-inappropriate hairstyle.”

“I will not be saying that,” Dani mutters. Jamie raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you having a conversation now? What’s she saying?”

“Please let her know I find her insistence upon men’s trousers silly at best, her blouses are entirely too loose, and I am bewildered by the wealth of ankle she seems to find appropriate in mixed company--”

“She says you have a nice smile,” Dani says. Jamie’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. Viola makes a horrible little noise of revulsion.

“How dare you place words in my mouth!”

“You are absolutely not telling me the truth, are you?” Jamie says in the same moment. Dani groans.

“Aspirin. I am going to need so much aspirin.”

***

It’s not all the time, thankfully; Dani thinks she’d go mad if Viola were truly there at all hours, yammering away about silks and petticoats and the good old days when a person could just drop dead of the plague with no notice. Sometimes, Viola even goes days at a stretch without saying a word, as though she’s sunk back to sleep in whatever little corner of Dani’s mind she calls a bedroom. 

And then, like a thunderstorm, she emerges once more. Usually with something snappy and irritating to share with Dani.

“Are we really wearing that?”

“There is no we, Viola,” Dani grumbles. She’s in the process of trying to choose between a flower-patterned dress and a denim vest, unable to gauge what kind of day it’s going to be when she steps out of the closet and into the chaos. Business has been booming down at The Leafling, which is wonderful, but more than a little overwhelming. And Jamie, god love her, has taken to watching Dani when she thinks Dani won’t notice, always with this worried little crease between her eyes. 

It’s making her crazy, if she’s honest about it. Jamie isn’t the worrier in the relationship, and watching her slip into the role is making Dani feel worse about the whole situation. She needs Jamie to tell her it’s all fine, it’s all perfectly all right, they’re going to make it through this new weirdness together no problem. 

“My dear, we became a we the night you said the magic words,” Viola says, a bit pettily. “Or have you forgotten me already?”

“How,” Dani grits out, “on earth am I supposed to forget you? Feel like I spend every day just...waiting for you to spring up and ask some idiotic question about cars or airplanes or deodorant--”

“For a schoolteacher, you surely lack for patience, Miss Clayton.”

Dani closes her eyes, searching for strength. Her hands grope, landing on dress and vest and yanking them free. “You know what? Both. We’re doing both today.”

“We most certainly are not! Not even a glove to be found? And again with the florals! We’ve been over how tacky the florals are, Miss Clayton. Miss Clayton, are you listening?”

“No,” Dani says decisively, wriggling into the layers and looking around for her chunkiest pair of earrings. 

“You are the scandal of the town, Miss Clayton,” Viola sniffs.

***

“Does she, ah...watch when we do this?”

Dani groans. They’d been having such a nice evening--an old movie fading slowly into wandering hands, Jamie’s mouth making its way down her neck, Jamie’s fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and tickling her ribs. She’d just flipped Jamie onto her back, was just looking to remove the deeply inconvenient articles of cloth between them, when Jamie pressed a palm lightly against her chest. 

“Not trying to be weird about it,” Jamie says, breathless. Her eyes are dark and heavy; though she’s stopped Dani moving closer, one of her legs has wound around Dani’s hip, easing her in. It’s giving Dani the worst kind of mixed message, to say the least. 

“Would you like us to put this sort of thing on hold until I find a way to exorcise the demon from my head, Jamie?”

“I did not say that. I decidedly said nothing of the kind.”

Dani lets her head fall forward, covering Jamie’s face in a fall of blonde. “Sorry. That was snippy. I just...I don’t know the answer. She’s...” She tilts her head, eyes shut, searching. “Quiet. For now.”

Jamie brushes her hair back, cups the side of her face, thumb moving in a slow arc across her cheekbone. “S’all right then. Can’t blame me being curious, can you? I mean, it’s not every day you find a third party sneaks into your bed.”

Dani leans into the soft stroke of her hand, sighing. “I don’t like it, either, you know. She’s so...judgey. I hadn’t realized ghosts could be judgey.”

“What’s she judging?” The hand on her chest slides, gripping a fistful of her shirt, pulling her toward Jamie. Dani sighs again, letting Jamie kiss her with the soft determination of someone apologizing for stopping this train in the first place. 

“Me,” she murmurs against Jamie’s lips. “You.”

“Me?” Jamie sounds affronted. “What’s there to judge about me, I’m a bloody peach.”

Dani laughs, bites her lower lip until Jamie groans. “It’s not anything personal. It’s just...the whole world is so different from what she remembers. There’s TV, jean shorts, women out there having jobs and lives without consent of their husbands...for her, it must be the Wild West.”

“Judges what she doesn’t understand, is that it?” Jamie is doing an admirable job of pretending to still be invested in this conversation, even as her hands are making short work of Dani’s sweatpants. Dani sucks in a breath. 

“I guess. Yeah. Can’t blame her for that, really.”

Jamie mulls this over, fingers tracing hipbone. Her nails bite gently into soft skin. “Does she judge us for this, I wonder?”

“Do you care?”

“Not,” Jamie says, twisting her hand and bringing their mouths together hard, “in the least.”

***

“Put it out the window.”

“I am not putting it out the window, Viola.”

“Down a flight of stairs, then! What in all cosmic reaches of hell is this for, if not throwing it somewhere it can never harm another soul again!”

Dani exhales through her nose, slowly, embracing every meditative memory of dealing with errant children. “I am not,” she says slowly to the empty apartment, “going to throw my television anywhere. And I'd really appreciate it if you’d stop making that suggestion every time I turn it on.”

“You are letting your soul rot from the inside out with this filth!” Viola is all but shrieking. Dani imagines her pacing back and forth, back and forth, her hands wild. “Your moral fiber, Miss Clayton. What of your moral fiber?”

“If MTV rots away one’s moral fiber,” Dani says, as calmly as she knows how, “then I suspect we’re all lost causes, anyway.”

Viola is silent for such a long time, Dani thinks she’s done the trick. She turns her attention back to the laundry she’s been folding to the tune of Janet Jackson. Her head bobs gently in time as the videos shuffle past--Madonna, Michael, Paula, George. Then, with the hour change, newer fare. She’s still getting around to some of these artists, still trying to work out how she feels about them. 

"Did you hear that?” Viola seethes. “What was that about an anaconda? Is this man suggesting we feed a woman to snakes? What barbarism do your people accept in this age?”

Dani folds a pair of Jamie’s socks with such deliberate care, she nearly forgets to breathe while doing it. 

“Moral fiber,” Viola hisses. “Moral fiber is wasted on this age of nudity and...and...hammertime.”

Dani finds herself desperately invested in ironing the wrinkles out of a pair of jeans with her hand until Viola goes quiet again.

***

“You could have such nice hair,” Viola croons. “Such nice hair, if you would only put them away...”

“They’re convenient,” Dani says, scraping her hair back into a pink scrunchie. Viola makes a noise of disgust. 

“They’re abhorrent. Honestly, your time and its...fashions. What do you call this?”

She’s gesturing toward the bathroom counter, to the little basket that holds all the hair supplies. Dani sighs. 

“It’s a headband, Viola. We like headbands. They keep the hair out of our eyes.”

“There are other ways. Fine hats. Lovely veils. Why don’t you own any lovely veils, Dani, do you want the common folk seeing your every decision in your eyes?”

Dani reaches for the hairspray. Behind her, Jamie bustles in with shirt half-buttoned, suspenders swinging around her thighs. Viola makes another catty little noise. 

“Any news?” Jamie asks, reaching around for a hairbrush and kissing Dani’s cheek. 

“She doesn’t like scrunchies,” Dani reports. “And she’s started calling me Dani.”

Jamie frowns. “Good sign or bad?”

“Impossible to guess.”

“Tell her you want some veils,” Viola says sweetly. “And for her to learn the value of a fine skirt.”

Dani, ignoring this, reaches around the back of Jamie’s neck and pulls her into a searing kiss. Jamie drops the hairbrush with a clatter, leaning Dani back against the counter and gripping the small of her back like she’s suddenly forgotten they’re both late for work. 

When they break apart, they’re both flushed, Dani giggling into the underside of Jamie’s jaw, Jamie’s eyes glazed. In the back of her mind, she hears Viola sigh. 

“That is truly childish, you know.”

***

It’s kind of an accidental habit, punishing her inner ghost for bad behavior by channeling her frustrations into sex. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, except to say Viola does tend to shut up when Dani’s properly distracted. Maybe it’s just the way the connection works, thinner when Dani isn’t willing to give it energy. Maybe Viola’s embarrassed. Either way, a year after Viola first speaks, her life with Jamie burns hotter than it ever has. 

It’s best when Viola is trying to run her mouth over Jamie’s fashion sense, she’s noticed. It is, in fact, the only way to shut Viola up about the aforementioned fashion sense. Which Dani intellectually understands; coming up from a world 400 years away, where women dressed in endless layers and a person’s value was often found in the shine of her jewels and the rich fabric of her skirts, slamming face-first into the 1990s must have been a trip. Truly, Viola is lucky Dani didn’t cart her out of that lake earlier. If she thinks scrunchies are bad, she should have seen the heyday of shoulder pads. 

Honestly, though, the worst thing is listening to Viola trill on about how much better Jamie could look if she’d only bow to the whims of femininity. Jamie, whose primary word on fashion has always been “can I dig a hole in this?” is perfect just the way she is. In fact, as the years go on and her jeans grow cuffs, her shorts grow shorter, her tops crop midway up her stomach, Dani thinks the world is finally suiting Jamie instead of the other way around. 

“She’s prancing around for the world to see--”

“It’s ninety-six degrees out,” Dani says in a low voice. She understands these conversations with Viola can be internalized, but she tends to wind up wearing this distant expression every time, and Jamie can spot it a mile off. Best to just mutter aloud in the sanctity of their own home. 

“She’s walking her wares up and down the block,” Viola rages on. “Not a shawl to be seen!”

“Jamie,” Dani calls from the kitchen, “have you ever in your life worn a shawl?”

“That’s, uh, one of those blankets with the fringy bits, yeah?” Jamie calls back. She’s bent over the air conditioning unit, trying to coax life into the old girl. The cropped line of her black t-shirt rides up her back, revealing glistening skin. Dani tips her head to enjoy the view. “I’ll pass on account of any blanket in this heat being like to kill me.”

“Best not to test it,” Dani agrees. Viola heaves the longest-suffering sigh Dani’s ever heard. 

“It doesn’t bother you in the least, your woman out there, where anyone could see her...her bare stomach!”

“One,” Dani says coolly, “she’s my girlfriend, not my woman. Two, I’ve never once tried to dictate her clothing, and I’m not stopping because a dead woman insists. Three, I happen to like it.”

“Like what?” Jamie strolls back to her, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead with a sigh. She stops a few inches away, rocking back and forth on her heels like she wants nothing more than to close the distance despite the mind-numbing heat. 

“Viola is commenting upon your more risqué clothing choices.”

“What? This?” Jamie grasps the exceedingly high-cut hem of her shirt and tugs it gently upward, teasing. “What’s her problem with all this?”

“It’s on display, evidently.”

“As it should be,” Jamie says almost primly. “I’m a fine specimen to behold. Learn to enjoy it, love, it’ll be faster than trying to change the view.”

This last, she says in a slightly louder voice, as though speaking to the shadow behind Dani’s eyes. She’s grinning, and Dani has time to think how strange it is, how quickly they’ve learned to accommodate Viola’s appearances into their conversations--Jamie has taken to leaving beats between her sentences, allowing for Dani to process two people speaking at once--before Jamie is wrapping both arms around her and lifting her off the floor. She squeals in surprise, delight turning to desire as Jamie licks a bead of sweat from her neck. 

“Not again,” Viola sighs. “You’ll wake the whole village.”

“Apartment,” Dani corrects, catching Jamie by the jaw and kissing her hungrily. It’s too hot for this, probably, but she can’t quite remember how to care when Jamie pulls free of her grasp and slides to her knees, taking Dani’s skirt with her. 

“It’s a nightmare, regardless.”

***

Eventually, Viola proves herself capable of learning a thing or two. Namely, that she is welcome to run commentary on anyone in the world except for Jamie. 

Even old ghosts can learn new tricks, apparently, although it takes a number of months, a great deal of sex, and one memorable weekend in which--upon Viola raging over every article in Jamie’s side of the closet for half an hour--Dani simply removed the option of clothing from Viola’s sight altogether. 

“This,” Jamie panted, both of them on the floor with a sheet draped over their tangled limbs, “is working for me in the weirdest way, Poppins.”

“I think she’s really starting to hate me,” Dani said conversationally, even as her fingers slipped between Jamie’s legs yet again. Jamie’s hips rose to meet her, one hand burying itself in her hair. 

“Well, that makes one of us, doesn’t it?”

***

Not commenting on Jamie, naturally, does nothing to stop Viola talking about every other goddamn thing in the world. 

“We’re going to have to have a long talk about not shaming women for their bodies, you know,” Dani tells her one afternoon. Viola has been tearing a young woman to pieces over her short skirt, furious that someone so pristine could soil herself with such impunity. Dani must be getting used to this in the weirdest way possible, because this kind of floral language is starting to feel second-nature. 

“I would never shame anyone,” Viola protests. “I am simply stating fact. Men do not value women as it is, and while we may win their games, we get nowhere at all if we do not play them.”

“This isn’t a game, Viola, it’s her life. Her body. She can do whatever she likes with it.”

“But I want her to succeed,” Viola insists. There’s an almost disconcerting eagerness to the words. She really truly believes what she’s saying. “A woman viewed as nothing more than a strumpet will have an even more difficult time securing a dowry, and then where will she be?”

“In college?” Dani suggests blithely. “Traveling? Living isn’t just for men, Viola, I know you know this. You refused the oath of obedience on your wedding day.”

“Of course it’s not for men’s sake alone, but when the law--”

“The law is different here,” Dani says, almost gently. “Has been for a long time. Or haven’t you noticed how well Jamie and I get along without a man to be found?”

Viola’s silence stretches so long, Dani’s sure she’s either gone back to sleep or is finally choosing this moment to let the ugly banner of homophobia unfurl. She’s been waiting for this moment for years, it seems, waiting for the ghost in her head to mimic her mother on the one and only occasion she attempted to send home a letter. 

“You’re different,” Viola says at last, very softly. Dani blinks. 

“Pardon?”

“You’re different,” Viola repeats. “Jamie is your forever. Does that young girl have her forever, Miss Clayton?”

“Well--I don't know, I don’t suppose it’s my business--”

“Perhaps she will find it in one like our Jamie,” Viola says impatiently. “But perhaps she will find instead the stones of men who have not, over four centuries, really changed all that much. Is it so wrong of me, to have a mother’s care for that?”

Dani doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t have the first idea, when faced with a Viola who is not simply catty for cattiness’ sake, but genuine. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to find argument. 

“We just. We just don’t pick on girls for what they do with their bodies, all right? It’s...it’s cruel, and it isn’t necessary.”

Viola sighs. “Fine. But we still ought to discuss the pattern choices. Those polka dots are not flattering in the least.”

It’s only later, watching Jamie chop carrots for dinner, that Dani realizes Viola had said our. Our Jamie. 

“Oh sweet Christ,” she mumbles.

***

The change is slow. Subtle. If not for the fact of carrying this woman in her head, Dani’s not sure she even would have noticed. 

“She what?” Jamie looks up from the plant she’s tending, fingernails grimed with soil, wedding ring carefully strung upon a thick chain around her neck until she can clean up again. “She...sorry, what?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dani muses. “It sounds...crazy. But I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Well, sure,” Jamie laughs. “I’m a deeply likable human being. But this is the Lady, yeah? Same one who dragged Peter fucking Quint to his death? Same one who thinks I show too much skin?”

“I’m...not convinced she thinks that anymore.” It’s really hard to say for sure. On the one hand, it’s possible Viola has shut up about Jamie’s shorn sleeves and shorts because every time she mentioned either, Dani made it her personal life’s mission to make sure Jamie never wore anything else around the house. On the other...

“I think she looked at your butt the other day.”

Jamie raises her eyes slowly, brow furrowing. “Can she do that? Turn your eyes to something you weren’t already looking at?”

“No,” Dani says, a bit stiffly, all too aware of stepping into the trap. Jamie grins. 

“Thought not.”

“But it was different,” Dani presses on through flushing cheeks. “I mean--even if I was already looking, she was--I mean--she--”

She doesn’t know how to explain it. How the rumble in her chest, already so familiar at the sight of Jamie puttering around their home, had seemed to expand until it encompassed all of her. How it was like someone had turned the heat in the room to its breaking point. 

“I can just tell, okay?” she says, aggrieved. “She looked at your butt, and she liked it.”

Jamie makes a thoughtful face, brushing dirt off her hands with slow, deliberate motions. “So...what you’re saying is...your personal ghostie has a crush on your wife?”

Dani presses her face against the counter, letting the cool metal relieve her blush. “Shit. Yeah. I think she might.”

“This is,” Jamie says triumphantly, pressing up against Dani from behind and kissing the back of her neck, “the funniest thing that has ever happened, by a country goddamn mile.”

***

A series of events, cascading in short order, that Dani almost actually feels bad about. If one could feel guilty about putting strain on one’s personal-pan Casper. 

The Britney Spears video, for one. Viola still does not like music videos--or music, frankly, unless it involves a ridiculous number of flutes and orchestral swells--but she’s grown to tolerate them. Mostly. 

That is, until Britney sways onscreen in a plaid skirt and schoolgirl pigtails. 

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, hand coming down hard against her own breastbone. It’s like someone grabbed the dial on her blood pressure and cranked it all the way up. That someone, she suspects, being the dead woman who has been more and more present of late. 

“I--I cannot--I simply am not capable of understanding--” Viola sounds like she’s short-circuiting. “I know we are not meant to comment, but what on earth is she doing?!”

“Dancing,” Dani says sharply, trying to coax her breathing back down. Is this what a stroke feels like? Is her fucking ghost roommate giving her an actual stroke? “Viola, you’ve seen dancing.”

“She is so young! She is a child! Who is protecting this person from the world?” Viola is furious. Viola is exploding. Dani sort of wonders if her chest is going to explode, too. 

“She’s...a pop star. This is what they get paid lots and lots of money to do.” It’s a bad answer, she knows. These videos make her a little uncomfortable too, when she thinks on them too long. But Viola? Viola’s rage is a towering beast of a thing. For a minute, lungs scraping at the air, Dani is genuinely afraid this is the point where the switch flips. Where she finds herself staring at the room from the back of her own head. 

“Someone,” Viola says in a low, terrible voice, “must protect these children.”

It takes almost an hour to calm her down. Dani doesn’t turn MTV back on for a while after that. 

***

“The. The moon?” The opposite end of the emotional spectrum this time. If Viola had been nearly apoplectic over Britney’s choreography, she now sounds faint.

“You should have floated that a bit more softly,” Dani tells Jamie, who looks confused. 

“Float what, all I did was mention NASA--”

“The moon,” Viola repeats. “We have seen. The moon.”

“She’s having trouble with the moon landing,” Dani says. Jamie waves her hands helplessly.

“Poppins, I have trouble understanding the geography of Texas, we all have problems.”

“We have,” Viola breathes, “stepped foot. Upon. The moon.”

Dani pours herself another large glass of wine.

***

“How’s this, then?” Jamie gives a very small, somewhat self-conscious twirl. “Too much? Too little? Too, ah, revealing, as the ghost contingent might say?”

Dani, leaning against the bedroom wall, can’t quite find the words. Viola, too, is conspicuously silent. 

“It’s bad,” Jamie says, nodding fervently. “Yeah, y’know, I think I knew it when I picked it up. Better on the sales rack, as they say. I can just...if you wouldn’t mind popping the zip real quick...”

“Yes, Dani,” Viola says quietly. “Pop the zip.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Dani hisses. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not bad,” Dani says quickly, ignoring the little harrumph Viola utters. “It’s very not bad. Opposite of bad, really.”

Relief floods Jamie’s face. The dress is low cut in a way very little of her clean-up clothes are, with a slit running clear up the leg. Patterned in burgundy petals, the black velvet is stark against her pale skin. 

“I won’t get run out of the convention, then? Only they said there’s a bit about drinks and networking, and it was just shy of black-tie. I could do that instead. Get a black tie. Think I’d look nice in a black tie.”

“The dress,” Viola says in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Tell her it is a nice dress.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Dani repeats with comic dazedness. “Best dress I’ve ever seen, maybe.”

“And now,” Viola says soothingly, “you go to her. Walk confidently now, shoulders back, chin up--”

“Are you...wing-man-ing me toward my own wife?” 

“Seduction requires confidence, Dani.”

“What’s she saying?” Jamie’s face has gone a curious mix of apprehensive and amused. Dani swallows. 

“Seduction requires confidence, evidently.” 

A slow grin spreads across Jamie’s face. Dani raises a hand, finger extended. 

“Don’t. Don’t make that smug face.”

“What’s smug about it?” She’s moving across the room, arms already reaching. “This is my very natural expression, I’ll have you know. The most normal expression in the world for a woman whose wife is being told to undress her by the ancient rage-ghost sharing her body.”

“Our lives,” Dani says helplessly, already pressing herself flush against Jamie, “are different than other people’s lives.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees in a low voice, sliding the sweater over Dani’s head. “Can’t find it in me to complain, though, can you?”

***

It’s weird, almost. Weirder, that it’s almost not. That the beast in the jungle, the creature Dani spent nearly a decade dreading, has pounced at last and...mostly, she just seems to want to see Dani happy. 

Jamie finds it hilarious, in that pretend-callous way Jamie has of smoothing over genuine concern with soft laughter. She doesn’t like Dani sharing her mental space with someone at all hours, Viola popping up like a wack-a-mole game on high. But, if Dani must share the space with anyone, at least--

“It’s someone who thinks I'm gorgeous.”

“You are gorgeous,” Dani replies, a bit exasperated. “Gorgeous, silly, perfect person. But my inner ghost has a crush on you, that isn’t strange for you?”

“Poppins, my life has been strange since a doe-eyed American strolled into it and told me she still saw her dead fiancé when we kissed.” Jamie reclines on the bed in a sleep shirt and underwear, hands playing lightly with the pillowcase beneath her head. “Strange is my bread and butter these days, and if I had to sacrifice you to have it any other way, we both know how it would go.”

Dani makes a mulish sound under her breath. Jamie cups a hand to her ear. 

“Say again?”

“It’s weird,” she repeats, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s weird. I always thought she’d do something bad--walk me off a roof, or strangle someone to death, or try to rob a convenience store. But mostly she just wants to protect young girls from an uncaring world and look at your butt in the shower.”

“That is...very specific,” Jamie says lightly. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s so bizarre. The longer this goes on, the more she sees of the world, it’s like...like she’s getting more real. More Viola, less Lady.”

Jamie sits up, hand sliding to rest high on Dani’s thigh as if to shield her from harm. “But not more solid, right? Not taking up space you already rent?”

Dani shakes her head. “That’s the thing. She doesn't feel like she’s taking over. And it feels...like she should.”

“You want her to?” 

“No, no, of course not.” Dani raises Jamie’s knuckles to her lips, raining soft kisses up and down her hand until the tension goes out of her brow. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. This isn’t...what I expected.”

Jamie exhales, shifting her weight until she’s sitting in Dani’s lap. She takes a Dani’s face between her hands, kisses her long and slow until Dani eases back against the headboard. 

“This is good, Poppins. You’re a good influence. You were on those kids, and on me, and now on this Lady of yours. Maybe that’s all a ghost needs, deep down.”

Dani leans into her, lets the rhythm of kiss and gentle bite and hands slipping beneath her clothes carry her away for a while. Still, no Viola, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t like to think how that would feel, Viola popping up while Jamie’s curling her fingers deep, groaning soft against her shoulder. There is a time and a place for hauntings, and time with Jamie is something else entirely. 

She’s pretty sure Viola even respects that. Which is, like everything else, incredibly strange. 

***

Viola attends their second wedding. Their real wedding. It’s bizarre on a level Dani isn’t prepared to deal with, feeling her surface as the plans become reality. Jamie’s got flowers, naturally, and Owen’s catering, and Henry has the kids--who are kids no longer, but fully-formed people with lives of their own--running errands on the day. And Dani...

Dani is looking at herself in a wedding dress for the second time in her life, only this time, she can breathe. 

“You are radiant,” Viola says. Dani closes her eyes for a moment, steels herself. 

“Nothing else to say? No notes?”

“You chose wisely,” Viola says. Dani sighs. 

“I figured lace was classic, and someone told me I had nice shoulders once, so--”

“The dress is beautiful,” Viola says. “But I was not talking about your grooming for the day.”

Dani gives a shaky laugh. “I love her, you know. I really do.”

“I can tell.” A beat of silence. Then: “I did not understand at first. Her. Or you. I suppose I will never understand completely. But...I understand the depths of what you feel. It is a part of me, too, I think. That devotion, sinking into all the spaces where I had forgotten.”

“You’re in love with Jamie, too?” Dani asks, not really wanting the answer. Viola laughs. 

“Yes. And no. You and I are intertwined, Miss Clayton. What you feel, I feel, to a degree. More importantly, I have seen your life with her. The life you build with the reckless joy of two people doomed one day to die.”

“Thanks,” Dani says, a bit sharply. She senses Viola putting her hands up, a terribly-modern gesture of surrender. 

“You understand what I mean. It takes courage, to love this completely. To do so while carrying a burden neither of us can truly comprehend is...something else altogether. There is a strength there I could not have understood on my most willful of days.”

“You turned Death away at your own doorstep,” Dani points out, smiling. Viola is pleased. 

“I did, didn’t I? And I could never regret it, even now. But you. You are doing something so much more incredible. Loving, even knowing what ending love must craft.”

“This is a bit dark for my wedding day,” Dani points out. Viola nods. 

“You are radiant. And you are fortunate. And I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

It is the strangest wedding toast she’s ever heard, and something within Dani’s heart has never been more at peace.

***

“How’s our Lady doing tonight?” Jamie asks as Dani slips into bed beside her. She tips her head, thinking on it. Viola, as she usually is once Dani crosses the bedroom threshold, is nowhere to be found. 

“Good, I think. Calm.”

“And my wife?” Jamie looks at her, eyes serious. “You’ve been quieter lately. Fighting her less?”

“She’s been fighting me less,” Dani says. “She...likes it here, I think. Likes us. You know, I thought after this much time, she’d get bored or restless or...go back to her old ways, but...”

“But I’m just too gorgeous,” Jamie teases. Dani slings a leg across her body, holds tight to her with hands that never feel as though they can hold on hard enough. 

“I think sometimes...sometimes it’s just about remembering. What it’s like to be a person. What it’s like to be in love.”

“Mm,” Jamie agrees, fingertips drawing dizzying spirals on the bare back of Dani’s shoulder. “Well done, you. You’ve tamed your beast.”

Dani sighs, content. “I think it was a joint effort.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees, kissing the top of her head. “Because I am, famously, too gorgeous to deny.”

#the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #fanfiction #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #me: I'm gonna take this show incredibly seriously and analyze it in detail #also me: wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if viola just rode around in Dani's mind yapping all the time? #also also me: oh no it went from being stupid to having heart anyway what the hell #anyway this is all karatam's fault and she knows it #and like everything else it isn't as silly as it could be because my dumb heart got in the way

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol. 1 Sakamaki Ayato [Track 3]

Original title: 目覚め

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 1 Sakamaki Ayato

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Translator’s note: I nearly screamed the first time I listened to this track. They really went there, huh? This track just has a bunch of feels and mindfucks. I honestly did not know what to think after it. In the past, I’ve always found Ayato’s CDs to be a bit ‘lackluster’ compared to the other characters but since he is always the first character to have their CD released, he does get the element of surprise. 

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Awakening

You wake up in your bedroom.

*Rustle rustle*

“...!”

*Rustle rustle*

“...Chichinashi. Oi! Can you hear me?”

You nod.

“Phew...Thank god. You actually woke up...This seems like a dream. Your complexion had improved as of late, so part of me grew hopeful, but still...I didn’t think you’d actually...I can’t believe this! Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment? ...Say, do you know where you are?”

You answer.

“Exactly. Your room. I’m glad I left it untouched.”

You ask him what is going on.

“Where do I even start!? (1) ...No, I guess it’s normal you don’t know what’s goin’ on. You idiot. Ever since we went to the lake that night...Fifty whole years have passed, you see?”

Your eyes widen in sheer surprise.

“Guess I can’t blame you for bein’ shocked. But that amount of time has definitely passed. I’ve watched the years go by after all. Day after day, sittin’ here by your side...At first I was at a complete loss. I’m sure I looked like a fool, but I carried you around to various places. Ones which held memories to us. Thinkin’ that maybe that would trigger your awakening. ーー That’s not all. I did absolutely everythin’ within my power, until all there was left for me was to pray. Knowin’ very well such a thing didn’t suit me, for a whole fifty years I continued. That’s why...I still can’t quite believe this. I won’t let you claim you’ve forgotten about me.”

You call his name. 

“I’ll give you props for rememberin’. Well, I guess it makes sense. A mere fifty years are over in the blink of an eye for us Vampires. My appearance has barely changed either. I should still look the exact same as back then in your eyes.”

You suddenly flinch.

“What’s wrong? Does somethin’ feel off? Or are you in pain? If not that, do you feel sick in any way?”

You explain.

“Ah...You’re worried about the way your hands look, huh? I told you, didn’t I? Fifty years have passed.”

You ask Ayato for a mirror.

“A mirror, huh? I don’t mind but...Don’t be too shocked, okay?”

He fetches you a mirror.

*Rustle*

“Here you go. Will this do? ...You might look a lil’ different from how you remember yourself though.”

You peek into the mirror and shriek.

*Shatter*

“...It’s normal for humans to age, right?”

Ayato embraces you.

“No matter what you look like, you’re still the same inside.”

You voice your fears. 

“There’s nothin’ to be afraid of. I’m right here with you. I watched over you for a whole fifty years, you really think I’m goin’ to abandon you now? Soーー Be a lil’ more happy! Kuh...Ugh...”

You ask Ayato what is wrong.

“Ugh...I’m...fine...It’s nothin’...Ugh...”

You reach out for him.

“Kuhーー! Stop it! Don’t touch me! ...No, I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about a thing. ...Haah, haah...”

You ask if he is thirsty.

“...Guess you could say that. Makes sense after goin’ fifty years without a single drop of blood. But I’ve already grown used to this pain. It’ll settle down in a sec...Kuh...”

You offer your blood.

“Don’t tell me you’re...Don’t be ridiculous! Cut it out!”

You insist.

“Stop! I don’t need it anymore! ...In the past, I would have surely fed off you without givin’ it a second thought, but I’ve changed. I’m satisfied just knowin’ you’ve finally woken up. I won’t ask for anythin’ else, so don’t grow so desperate. I’ll be...just fine.”

Ayato gets up and stumbles towards the door.

“Ugh...Kuh...”

He turns his head.

“You stay there...Just worry about yourself instead. It doesn’t...matter what happens to me...as long as we can be together. That night by the lake, you told me, didn’t you? That all you wanted was to relax together. ...Your wish is about to be granted. After fifty long years. Let’s finally go and watch it together. The sun risin’ above the lake. Okay? ーー...

*SCENE SHIFT*

“...Chichinashi!! Oi! ...Guess I should just let her sleep for now. What is goin’ on, for real!?”

Ayato scratches his head.

“Ahー None of this makes sense! Did I go overboard perhaps? ...Actually, before she lost conscious...she was actin’ sorta off, goin’ on about how humans don’t live that long...How they can’t live forever. That’s...! Well, she did have a point. You’ll obviously be the first to...Still, it won’t happen right now, will it!? Oiーー! ...Oi, I said! ...Fuck! Chichinashi!!”

*Rustle*

“Don’t just be snoozin’...! Open your eyes...!”

*Rustle rustle*

“I bet you’re just pretendin’ to be asleep, right!? Quit playin’ ‘round! Hey!”

*Tap tap*

“Don’t show me that sloppy sleeping face of yours! I’m gonna doodle on it! Do you want that, huh!?”

*Tap tap*

“No use, huh? ...Then how ‘bout this!? I don’t mind makin’ some mind-blowin’ takoyaki for you! It doesn’t even have to be takoyaki. Your favorite dish! While I’m at it, I’ll take you to whichever place you’d like to visit as well! Right! The sunrise we didn’t get to see by the lake! Let’s go watch it together! I’ll keep you company for hours on end! So...So hurry up and open your eyes already! Look around! Look at me...Hey...I’m beggin’ you...Please!!”

You slowly open your eyes.

“Oi...”

*Rustle*

“Haah...”

You immediately start inspecting your hands.

“What...? What’s wrong? Is somethin’ the matter with your hands?”

You sigh in relief. 

“Oi. Why do you suddenly feel relieved?”

You explain.

“You had a weird dream? Haah...I don’t get it. Do you know just how worrーー ...Whatever! Fuck...! If you’re fine, get up already! Who gave you permission to lie there passed out?”

You apologize.

“Hmph! ...A single sorry won’t save your ass. ...Ugh.”

You ask if he’s thirsty.

“What? Somethin’ wrong with that? ...I told you I’ve been more thirsty than usual as of late, haven’t I?”

You offer your blood.

“Heh. ...You’re tryin’ to get back on my good side with your own blood? ...No thank you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Whatcha so shocked about? I don’t want it. ...I’m not in the mood. I no longer need your blood. Bet you’re happy your wish came true, huh? You wanted this, didn’t you? A peaceful time together.”

You appear to be in shock. 

“Oi...What’s wrong? You’re not gonna faint on me again, are you? Give me a break already!”

You beg him to feed off you.

“...!? What are you doin’? Why do you want me to suck your blood so badly?”

You explain.

“Haah...? You want to be useful to me? What has gotten into you? It’s like you’re an entirely different person.”

You tell Ayato you can tell he is suffering because of you.

“…Ugh. Don’t be ridiculous! You think I’m sufferin’ ‘cause of you? Are you delusional? Stop talkin’ like you’re special. You’re not the only person on this planet who has blood pumpin’ through their veins.”

You try and protest.

“Stop. …I’ve heard enough.”

You offer your blood.

“I just told you I won’t suck your blood, remember?”

You beg.

“Cut it out! …The fuck’s goin’ on?”

You ask why he won’t suck your blood.

“I’m not in the mood right now. …Well, I’m leavin’ then. Seems like you’re healthy enough to complain at least.”

You ask him to wait.

“Shut up! I can go wherever I want! …For one, didn’t you hear me when I said I don’t need your stupid blood anymore? I’m done with you. Don’t you dare show your face before me ever again!”

Ayato leaves.

*Thud*

“...Kuh. ...Fuck!!”

He punches the wall.

*THUD*

“...I thought she was a goner for real. ...Actually, what am I even so afraid of!? Kuh!!”

*THUD*

“...I won’t suck her blood. Never again. ...If I don’t do this, sooner or later she’llーー... Fuck!”

*THUD*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says ‘You really think there’s a ‘how’ or ‘what’?’

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #diabolik lovers daylight #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[wolfish-trickster]

Liar

Part 3

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,7K

Warnings: angst, typos, everything sad besides doggo

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @belovedadam @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz

Loki felt miserable. If only he knew what would he start with that lie. Why couldn't he tell her Y/N is his cousin or something? She and her golden-fish-like IQ would've believed him. Damn him! Damn him and Tony for making him do this! Why couldn't Stark do it himself! It was his idea afterall!

Loki was lying on a rug in his bedroom. He didn't feel like he deserved the luxury of a warm soft bed. He was looking through photos and selfies of Y/N in his phone. Her happy smile, her arms wrapped around him in a hug in his favourite selfie of you (his wallpaper), her two fingers giving him horns from behind his back and him doing it back to her. He counted, he had only 7 pictures of her in total. 'I should've taken pictures of her more often,' he thought to himself and wiped his eyes to get clearer view. He should've took a picture of her doing the most mundane things. Reading a book, drawing on a windowsill, chatting with someone. She always had this spark in her eyes whenever she talked about some of her interests. He wanted to see that spark again.

Loki caught himself dreaming of you again. 'Let her go,' he told himself. 'It will be better for her and you.'

But he didn't want to get better. Not without her. But he fucked up big time. He apologized. He showed her a proof of his innocense. She chose to put space between you two. And that was okay, right? He's already used to it, right?

His eyes were staring outside the window the whole night, but he wasn't watching anything. He needed them open, for whenever he closed them he saw you. Either crying and screaming like you did few day ago, or sad smile you gave him few hours ago, or your happy grin you have worn what seemed like ages ago.

Sky changed its shades of blue from dark to light. The morning sun made him realize that no, he isn't used to it.

*

The need to walk to your room was big. But he couldn't. He promised to leave you alone if you wanted. And you did.

So instead he hid in one of the old rooms everyone forgot about and never really used. He needed to be alone.

No one came looking for him yet. The only sign of someone remembering his existence was one message from Tony. Something about the info Loki got from that woman being useless and agents are taking the lead from the Avengers. Good to know he unknowingly destroyed his whole relationship with Y/N for nothing.

When he read those words the first time he wanted to smash the phone on nearest wall, but that meant losing all the pictures with you and he simply couldn't do that.

Loki wandered where where you. If you were safe. Maybe you took your dog out. Or made someone do it, so you didn't have to risk meeting him in the halls. Thought of you still avoiding him sickened him.

His lower back started to ache from sitting in pragraph position for too long. He decided to stretch and walk a little, clear his head. The plan was to go to kitchen, steal something small to eat (not because he was hungry, he needed a distraction) and go back to his secret room. Or the roof. What will came first.

With a glass of water and pockets filled with chocolate he started walking towards the exit.

Suddenly he heard small clawed paws hitting the floor making soft clicking noises. He followed the distand sound to find your little pup, Rex, walking around as if he owned the place. If he was here then you'll be nearby. Loki looked around the room, but besides the small dog and him it was empty.

When the little guy got his sent into his nose, he turned and sprinted towards Loki. He expected the pup to bite him, just like you promise you will train him, and mentally prepared himself for attack of small dull needles on his ankles.

To his surprise Rex started jumping on his leg, trying to reach his hand. When Loki lowered it to his level he started to lick it, his tail wagging wildly. Good to know at least he doesn't hate him.

"Did you escape her and went on an adventure, little guy?" he asked scratching behind his ears. Rex rolled on his belly and silently asked for scratches. Loki was more than happy to provide.

"Well, we can't leave it like that now, can we? She'll be worried sick if she doesn't find you in her room. Like this one time when she couldn't find her favourite plushie from childhood. We turned her whole room upside down just to find it. Later that day she realized she accidentally left it in my bedroom," he smiled sadly at the fond memory. "We laughed a lot afterwards. I fear she'll never laugh in my presence again," he stopped scratching.

Rex sat up and tilted his head at him.

"I know, I know, it's basically my fault. And I understand why she feels like that. Who wouldn't after their best... ex best friend said those things about them. I just wish I could turn back time and change everything."

"And why would you do that?" loki turned around to be met with face of none other than Tony Stark.

"You would never understand," he looked away.

"I'm capable of undertanding a lot of things, don't underestimate me."

Rex found new sent in the room and ran up to Tony. "Aaaw, is he yours? I never thought you'll be a dog person," Tony picked him up and got a good look on him, while Rex was trying to reach his face with his tongue.

"No, he's Y/N's. He must've escaped from her bedroom. Please, take him to her," he started walking away.

"No way, your friend, your problem. I'm already a very busy man even without pets," he put Rex on the floor and gently nudged him towards Loki.

"Here's the thing, I can't. I can't face her. And I am more than sure she doesn't want to face me."

"What happened? Don't tell me it's some petty reason like 'you picked the wrong movie' or 'those flowers don't go with ma vase'."

Loki rolled his eyes and took Rex to his hands. "No. She heard me telling lies to that woman we needed for those informations and now she doesn't trust me. I doubt she ever will."

"Just tell her how it was. How hard can that be?"

"Don't you think I already thought of that? I showed her the video from security cameras yesterday and she still doesn't want to go back to being my friend. And I understand why," he stared deeply into Rex's puppy eyes. As if the little dog felt his sadnes he tried to cuddle up to his chest.

"Then pray tell, cuz I could never understand women's logic."

Loki played with Rex's soft fur. "She knows I'm a great liar. She might think if that was a lie and she couldn't tell, then might be wondering how much of other things I told her were lies," Rex started chewing on Loki's thumb. "The truth is I never told her a single lie. Only that one time when she asked me if I'm smiling because I saw Thor fall down the stairs," he chuckled.

"Then tell her you never lied to her," Tony suggested.

"I can't. She won't believe me. Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I did. But listen, life is complicated enough already, why making it more miserable by not talking each other's issues out? Just go to her, return her dog and ask to talk to her."

"What if she slams the door in my face just like the last time? Then what genious?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. Write her a letter and slide it down her door?"

Loki rolled eyes and started walking in the direction of your bedroom. "Your advices suck," he called behind his back.

Here he was. Standing in front of your door, which was slightly ajar. Explaining how Rex got out. Behind those doors he laughed with you, played games with you, watched movies while cuddling with you. So many pleasant memories. Scarred by the freshest one.

He remembered the fear and panic he felt when you started shouting at him. He remembered every last word you told him. Those kinds of words only left your mouth in his worst nightmares. He never thought he'll hear them in real life.

Tiny bites along his wrist brought him back to present. He didn't know what to do. Should he stand there and wait until you come out? Or should he knock? Call out for you?

His questions got answered sooner than he thought. "What are you doing here?" he heard her voice coming from the opposite end of the hallway.

He quickly looked down at Rex in his arms, the opened doorand realized how it must look to you. "I'm not stealing him, I swear. I found him wandering around the Tower," he held him out to you.

You took him, your fingers brushed his for a moment. You coughed. "Ehm, thank you. For bringing him back, I mean."

"No problem," he stood there awkwardly, hamd behind his back.

He figured you didn't want to say anything more and he took a step to walk around you.

"Hey," you called out.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, waiting for your next words.

"I...... uhm," you bit your lip nervously.

He saw her wilingness to talk as his chance. "Can I speak with you? About all of what happened? Please?"

You looked up at him, a small relief in your eyes. "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you."

"Oh, okay," he felt like an awkward teen rather than over century old man.

Both of you stood in the hallway. Until you broke the silence. "Well, do you want to come in?" you pointed at your door.

"Yeah, okay. Why not? Your bedroom is nice for talking," Loki mentally slaped himself across the face for saying such stupidity.

"Yes. I suppose it is," you gave him a small smile and closed the door behind the two of you.

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst #rex is a good boi #im still sorry

[bloody-bee-tea]

A story in three parts

Middle

This is a crime family/mafia au so expect some violence. The Mingxicheng in this part is established.

When Jiang Cheng comes to, he groans in pain. His head is throbbing, there’s a bad taste in his mouth and his arms feel as though they are dead.

Jiang Cheng blinks his eyes open fully, hating how the world tilts for the first few blinks and when he finally sees his surroundings, his stomach drops in fear.

He’s in a warehouse, tied to a chair and Xue Yang is grinning maniacally in his face.

“The little princess finally came to,” he says, his voice full of glee, and Jiang Cheng tries his best to get away from him, but he’s tied to a chair—that’s what’s killing the feeling in his arms, too—and there is nowhere for him to get away to.

“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng presses out, aware that his voice is shaking and he hates himself for how weak he is, for how easily he is to scare.

“Ah, straight to business, I see,” Xue Yang says, and he sounds disappointed. “I hoped to play some more.”

“Don’t be stupid,” someone else suddenly says from behind Jiang Cheng and he tenses in fear of what that person is going to do, but then Su She steps around him and Jiang Cheng relaxes slightly.

Between those two, it’s definitely Xue Yang he needs to be more afraid of, Jiang Cheng knows that well, and so he barely keeps an eye on Su She.

Which is a mistake, Jiang Cheng realizes with ringing ears, when Su She punches him square in the face.

“You’re probably wondering what we want from you,” Su She says, sweet as anything, once Jiang Cheng managed to right himself again.

“I’m not, actually,” Jiang Cheng bites out, trying to get past his fear, spitting out the blood that’s gathering in his mouth and Xue Yang laughs straight in his face.

“Oh, that sure sounded differently just a few moments ago,” Xue Yang says and then gets out a knife.

Jiang Cheng tenses in fear, a cold shudder running down his back, but when Xue Yang walks up to him, he tries to squirm away. He’s getting nowhere of course, not with how tightly the rope cuts into his arms and when Xue Yang puts the knife to his cheek Jiang Cheng freezes.

“Listen here, little princess,” Xue Yang whispers and he puts more pressure behind the knife.

Jiang Cheng is sure that by now he must be bleeding, even though he can’t actually feel the pain through his panic.

“Don’t call me that,” Jiang Cheng still hisses out, because he has to be contrary no matter what, but it only seems to delight Xue Yang that much more.

“Aw, the little princess has some bite,” he mocks him and then swiftly moves the knife from his cheek to his neck. “But if the little princess isn’t careful, my hand might just slip,” he says, punctuating the last words with increasing pressure on his neck.

“Don’t kill him yet,” Su She suddenly speaks up but Xue Yang still hesitates for long moments before he moves away.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s alive or not as long as his parents come for him,” Xue Yang says with a shrug and now Jiang Cheng begins to shake for real.

His parents are not going to come for him, that much he knows, and as soon as Xue Yang and Su She realize that, he’s dead.

His father will probably not even notice that Jiang Cheng is missing, even if someone should demand a ransom, and his mother will only see this as a training opportunity.

Jiang Cheng knows that he’s too weak, too soft for the family business—always has been—and his mother will certainly think that this is what he deserves if he can’t even manage to get himself out of this situation.

But Jiang Cheng doesn’t enjoy being the heir to an underground organization; doesn’t want to spend his days training and fighting and killing when all he really wants to do is become a veterinarian but he realizes now that his stubborn wish is probably going to cost him his life now.

Wei Wuxian might come to his rescue—he delights in fighting and is good at it, too—but Madam Yu sent him out on business. By the time Wei Wuxian will return to the country, Jiang Cheng will be just another body, dropped into the harbour.

“You’re wasting your time,” Jiang Cheng spits out, despite the cold grip of fear around his heart, and gets another fist to his face for his trouble, but that side of his face is already numb, so it’s not like he feels it much.

“And why is that, little princess?” Xue Yang drawls out, moving the knife against Jiang Cheng’s neck once again. “Are you so unlovable that no one will come for you?” he asks with a lunatic smile and while the thought cuts Jiang Cheng deeper than any knife could, he nods.

“Yes,” he says, once he thinks his voice will hold and he relishes the way both Xue Yang and Su She freeze. “If you think my mother will come for me, you’re mistaken,” Jiang Cheng goes on, forces out between clenched teeth. “She’ll probably thank you for getting rid of some useless baggage when you deliver my body to her.”

“As if she would thank us for killing the heir,” Su She says with a frown, but Jiang Cheng can tell that he’s already doubting his actions.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jiang Cheng says with a laugh. “But my father made Wei Wuxian the heir,” he tells them, trying not to let it hurt him yet again, but of course it’s always useless.

He knows his parents think very lowly of him for wanting a more normal life, a life that doesn’t involve constant killing and fights and territory disputes and it should have stopped hurting long ago, but of course that’s not how that works.

He’s useless and unloved and Jiang Cheng knows it well.

Not completely, a tiny voice in Jiang Cheng whispers and he tries his damn hardest to push that thought away.

It’s even more unlikely that Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are going to come after him and Jiang Cheng knows it.

Lan Xichen left the trade a long while ago—preferring to be a teacher instead of taking over as the head of the family—and Nie Mingjue is not going to risk war with the Jin’s when he’s already in a constant fight with the Wens.

“You can tell Meng Yao that you fucked up big time by getting me,” Jiang Cheng spits out, pushing every thought of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue away, and instead he thoroughly enjoys how wide Su She’s eyes get.

“You—” he starts but Jiang Cheng only laughs in his face, uncaring of the knife on his neck.

He’s going to die here anyway; a clean cut on his throat would probably be less painful than whatever Xue Yang has planned for him.

“You think I haven’t seen you run after Meng Yao like a lovesick puppy? Who else could be behind this, it’s not like either of you ever had an original thought in your lives,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and it’s only because he knows that he’s going to die here that he dares to be this brave.

“His name is Jin Guangyao,” Su She hisses and Jiang Cheng laughs in his face.

“Just because Jin Guangshan decided to give him a pity name doesn’t mean I have to use it,” Jiang Cheng hisses and then his vision goes dark when Su She hits him yet again.

“Shut up,” Su She yells and Jiang Cheng laughs because it’s so easy, so goddamn easy to rile him up.

“Calm down,” Xue Yang says and that makes Jiang Cheng laugh again, because Xue Yang has made quite the name in their circles for a number of things and being calm is not one of his defining features.

“You said we need him alive,” Xue Yang reminds Su She and when he eyes Jiang Cheng, his blood runs cold.

That’s a mad scientist looking at his next test subject and Jiang Cheng really wishes he would have managed that cut before.

“Maybe we don’t,” Su She spits out and then kicks Jiang Cheng right in the stomach with enough force that the chair topples over.

There’s no sound of breaking bone which is the only reason that Jiang Cheng knows he didn’t break anything, since he can’t feel his arms anymore, but his head hit the concrete rather forcefully and his vision goes yet again dark and spotty.

Xue Yang pulls him back up by his hair and Jiang Cheng clenches his teeth against the painful sound that’s trying to escape his lips. He might be the weakest Jiang that ever has been, but he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of screaming.

Not yet.

If Xue Yang gets to do with him as he pleases Jiang Cheng is under no illusions that he’s going to break rather sooner than later, but not yet.

“Any signs of that bitch yet?” Su She suddenly yells into the warehouse and it’s only then that Jiang Cheng realizes that they are not as alone as he thought.

Su She and Xue Yang definitely came prepared because there are about fifteen to twenty henchmen hanging around in the warehouse and if Madam Yu were to come, Jiang Cheng would worry.

Even is mother is just one person after all. But since she absolutely will not come to save Jiang Cheng from this dilemma he just finds the massive presence of henchmen amusing.

All these people called here to see one pathetic little person die. Jiang Cheng wonders how many of them will think this a waste of their time and how many of them will dare to say that directly to Su She’s face.

“Nothing is happening,” one of the henchmen replies and Su She klicks his tongue in apparent displeasure.

“Where the hell is she?”

“I told you, she’s not going to come. You went after the wrong one. Should have gotten Wei Wuxian if you wanted my mother to show up,” Jiang Cheng tells them and gets another cut to his cheek for that.

“You shouldn’t be speaking so much,” Xue Yang says as he leans down. “Maybe I should take your tongue, how would the little princess like that?” he asks and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes because he doesn’t think it really warrants an answer.

When Xue Yang cuts his other cheek Jiang Cheng figures Xue Yang didn’t like that answer much.

“So you think no one is coming for you, huh?” Xue Yang asks him, staring at his knife as he turns it around and around. “Why aren’t you begging for your life, little princess?”

“What use is there to beg a madman?” Jiang Cheng snaps back and Xue Yang still for a moment before a dangerous glint enters his eyes.

Maybe Jiang Cheng should have just held his tongue for once in his life, he thinks, right before Xue Yang drags the knife down Jiang Cheng’s front, putting just enough pressure on it to cut open his shirt.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, little princess,” Xue Yang drawls out and Jiang Cheng can tell that he wants to get started with that right away, but suddenly there’s a sword pressed to the underside of his chin.

Xue Yang freezes and slightly backs away when the sword makes him, and Jiang Cheng cranes his neck around to see what is going on.

He did not expect to see Lan Xichen behind him.

“Xichen?” Jiang Cheng whispers and it’s only then that Lan Xichen tears his eyes away from Xue Yang and looks down at Jiang Cheng.

“We’re here, my heart,” Lan Xichen says and does something with his other hand that loosens the robe bound around Jiang Cheng.

Lan Xichen leans down to press a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead and it’s only then that he seems to notice the blood on his cheeks.

“You’re bleeding,” Lan Xichen says, and his voice is hard and Jiang Cheng has never seen him look so cold. “Someone made you bleed,” he goes on and his glare turns towards Xue Yang, who has the good thought to back away a few more steps.

“Xichen, it’s not so bad,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he knows that Lan Xichen left this life for a reason, that he never wanted to kill again and Jiang Cheng isn’t sure if he can stand it if Lan Xichen breaks that promise to himself for Jiang Cheng.

“That’s Zewu-Jun,” one of the henchmen whispers and immediately panic breaks out where before everyone was frozen in surprise.

“Kill him!” someone yells, but before anyone can pull their gun, Lan Xichen is already moving, Shuoyue steady in his hand.

Jiang Cheng stumbles up, not entirely sure what he’s going to do or how he’s going to stop Lan Xichen, but he just knows that he has to try. But before he can decide on anything, two arms encircle him from behind and pull him towards a chest.

Jiang Cheng stiffens, before he recognizes the embrace and he fully leans into the body behind him.

“Mingjue,” he whispers and is rewarded with another kiss to his temple.

“It’s okay now, my heart,” Nie Mingjue whispers and tightens his grip on Jiang Cheng. “We got you know.”

“Mingjue, shouldn’t we—Xichen—he—” Jiang Cheng tries to say, but Nie Mingjue only hums, turning his gaze towards Lan Xichen.

It almost looks like he’s dancing from one henchmen to another, but whenever he leaves no one is left standing, Shuoyue nothing more but a silver flash in his hand.

“He’s magnificent, our light, isn’t he?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng has to admit that Nie Mingjue is right.

It almost looks like art, the way Lan Xichen is moving, the way his hair is flowing behind him and Jiang Cheng could watch him for hours.

Except that Lan Xichen never wanted to kill again and he walked away from the family business for good.

“He shouldn’t do this, he doesn’t want this,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and he’s ashamed to find that his voice is shaking with how relieved he is that at least someone came for him.

“He wants to,” Nie Mingjue says and kisses Jiang Cheng’s cheek, mindful of the cut there. “For you, he’d lead his family into war if it would protect you,” Nie Mingjue lowly tells him and Jiang Cheng shudders with his words.

“And you?” he dares to ask, slightly turning around in Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What would you do?” he wants to know and Nie Mingjue gives him a wicked smile.

“I would let Huaisang burn the world for you,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to close his eyes against the tears that are threatening to spill over at that.

They all know that Wen Ruohan is only still alive because Nie Mingjue hopes to kill him personally; Nie Huaisang has at least a dozen plans that would kill him instantly if not anonymously and the only reason that hasn’t happened yet is because Nie Mingjue is telling him not to.

If Nie Mingjue would just unleash Nie Huaisang onto the world, letting him do what he wants, however he sees fit, it would be pure chaos. Some days Jiang Cheng suspects it’s only Nie Mingjue’s strong sense of right and wrong that stops Nie Huaisang.

If that should fall away—if Nie Mingjue should give him his blessing—Jiang Cheng can barely contemplate it.

“I thought no one was coming,” Jiang Cheng admits, shaking with how weak that makes him, but Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen know about his family life, about his insecurities.

Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe he can tell them this much as well.

“They wanted to kill you,” Nie Mingjue says and his voice is dark.

“And I thought they would,” Jiang Cheng whispers and Nie Mingjue turns him completely around and crushes him to his chest.

“Never,” he promises. “We would never let that happen to you. We will always come for you,” Nie Mingjue promises him and Jiang Cheng lifts his hand to grip his shirt.

“Does he need help?” Jiang Cheng asks when he thinks that his voice is steady, and he startles only slightly when a third hand lightly touches his back.

“No, I don’t,” Lan Xichen easily says and then tugs Jiang Cheng out of Nie Mingjue’s arms to take a good look at him.

Lan Xichen is covered in blood, but he seemingly doesn’t care about that at all, because his gaze is entirely fixed on Jiang Cheng. There’s still a cold glint to it that makes Jiang Cheng shudder.

“Where are you hurt?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Some punches to the face, one kick to my stomach, the cuts you see,” he sums up, and he knows that he came away pretty easily from this.

Xue Yang’s face promised him so much more pain than those simple injuries.

“I should have made it hurt more,” Lan Xichen lowly says and Jiang Cheng can feel an incredulous laugh bubble up in his throat when a painfilled groan reaches his ear.

It seems like Lan Xichen did not immediately kill all of them, but left some of them to suffer.

“Xue Yang and Su She?” he asks and Lan Xichen’s face instantly darkens.

“Dead,” he promises and Jiang Cheng has no reason not to believe him.

He saw how deadly Lan Xichen was with Shuoyue. If he says they are dead, then they are.

“I should have killed Su She the moment he left the family,” Lan Xichen goes on, clearly beating himself up over that, and Jiang Cheng steps forward to cup Lan Xichen’s face between his hands.

“You saved me,” Jiang Cheng says. “That’s all that matters.”

Lan Xichen works his jaw at that, clearly wanting to argue, but Nie Mingjue puts his hand to Lan Xichen’s neck and lightly squeezes.

“Our heart is safe, my light,” he lowly says. “It’s okay. You can come back now.”

Lan Xichen relaxes as he hears his voice and he takes one deep breath before that dangerous glint vanishes out of his eye.

“My heart, are you okay?” Lan Xichen asks, and now he’s the Lan Xichen Jiang Cheng recognizes because his voice is soft and slightly panicked and Jiang Cheng knows way better how to deal with this than a vengeful, murderous Lan Xichen.

“I’m good,” he promises him, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“He thought no one was coming for him,” Nie Mingjue says, and Jiang Cheng has a split second to feel betrayed by that, before Lan Xichen crushes him to his chest.

“We will always come for you,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng clutches to his shirt, completely uncaring that Lan Xichen is getting blood all over him.

“It’s just—my mother didn’t,” Jiang Cheng whispers, even though he damn well knew that his mother would never bother to come for him.

She probably thinks that he should manage to break free of this himself, and if he wasn’t strong enough to do so, then so be it.

“That’s because she doesn’t know how to love you right,” Nie Mingjue says and Lan Xichen nods in agreement.

“Not like we do,” Lan Xichen adds and Jiang Cheng’s eyes start to burn again.

“Can we go home now?” he asks, his voice choked up, and Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue immediately lead him out of the warehouse towards their car.

Lan Xichen slides into the back with Jiang Cheng, while Nie Mingjue gets behind the wheel and it’s not long before they are on their way away from the warehouse.

“Let me see, my heart,” Lan Xichen says and he tilts Jiang Cheng’s face this and that way to get a good look at his face, but it’s clear he doesn’t have anything at hand to treat Jiang Cheng’s wounds with, so Jiang Cheng is content to wait until they are home.

Once they get there, Lan Xichen immediately rushes him into the bathroom.

“Shirt off,” he demands and usually Jiang Cheng would give him a lewd look for that, but his head is still aching and he’s beginning to really feel all his injuries, so he simply obeys Lan Xichen’s orders.

Lan Xichen sucks in a surprised breath when Jiang Cheng shrugs the shirt off and it’s enough to bring Nie Mingjue to their side as well.

“You should have made it hurt a lot more,” Nie Mingjue presses out as he reaches out to trail his fingers over the bruises left behind by the rope Xue Yang bound him with.

Jiang Cheng is probably lucky if he regains all of his feeling in his arms, going by how tight they were.

“I should have,” Lan Xichen darkly agrees and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“You got me out, that’s all that matters,” he tries but that doesn’t seem too reassuring for Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue.

“My soul, get the big first aid-kit,” Lan Xichen instructs Nie Mingjue after he takes a deep breath and Nie Mingjue turns around on the heel of his foot.

Jiang Cheng can hear Nie Mingjue punch the wall a few times, before he regains his control and he looks down at his feet.

“I’m sorry to make you worry like this,” Jiang Cheng says, trying to hide the already blossoming bruises on his chest, but of course Lan Xichen doesn’t let him.

“He’s not mad at you,” Lan Xichen says and even though Jiang Cheng knows that, it still makes a tiny knot of worry in his chest disappear. “How do you feel?” Lan Xichen asks him, as he gets started on cleaning the cuts on his cheeks and Jiang Cheng shrugs, but immediately regrets that decision.

“My head is throbbing,” he admits and Lan Xichen hums at that.

“Probably a concussion and the aftereffects from whatever they used to knock you out.”

“Blunt force,” Jiang Cheng drily says, because he does remember very well how something had hit him from behind.

Lan Xichen huffs out a laugh at that, and then he makes grabby hands when Nie Mingjue comes back with the big first aid-kit.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think it’s entirely necessary to bring out the big guns, but before he can argue, Nie Mingjue sends him one look and Jiang Cheng closes his mouth again.

“Let us do this for you,” Nie Mingjue says, and leans forward to brush a kiss over Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng sighs and then allows Lan Xichen to disinfect all of his wounds, even those that are only bruises, and then Lan Xichen diligently dresses all of them up.

“I feel like a mummy,” Jiang Cheng mutters when Lan Xichen finally deems him done and Nie Mingjue laughs at that, which makes Jiang Cheng suspect that he’s right about it, too.

“Are you hungry?” Nie Mingjue asks him when he leads him out of the bathroom and Jiang Cheng carefully shakes his head.

“I want to sleep,” he whispers, damn well knowing that neither Lan Xichen nor Nie Mingjue are going to let him sleep uninterrupted with a concussion.

“You can doze,” Lan Xichen very predictably yells from the bathroom and Jiang Cheng would roll his eyes at him if only his head doesn’t feel like it would explode any second now.

“I definitely need to lay down,” Jiang Cheng says, exhaustion finally making itself known and Nie Mingjue is quick to lead him to the bedroom.

“Come here, my heart,” he says as he lays down first, and then he pulls Jiang Cheng into his arms.

Jiang Cheng isn’t always down for cuddling, but today he thinks there is no safer space to be in then Nie Mingjue’s arms, and so he settles down easily.

“I’m glad you came for me,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and feels Nie Mingjue brush a hand over his head.

“I’m glad we were in time,” Nie Mingjue gives back just as lowly and Jiang Cheng moves closer to him, tries to entirely hide in Nie Mingjue’s arms.

It doesn’t quite work, but when Lan Xichen joins them and moulds himself to Jiang Cheng’s back, it almost feels like enough.

“I thought I was going to die,” Jiang Cheng suddenly sobs out, everything hitting him at once now and he can feel how Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue tighten their arms around him.

“But you didn’t,” they try to reassure him, but now that the tears are flowing, Jiang Cheng can’t stop them anymore.

He cries and he cries, and then he cries some more, and all the while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue patiently hold him and tell him how much they love him, and when Jiang Cheng finally calms down, he instantly drifts off to sleep, headache be damned.

At least in the arms of his light and soul there is nothing he has to fear.

Next part

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingxicheng #mafia au #crime family #violence #blood #some murder of side characters #hurt/comfort #injury #a little bit of fluff

[babymetaldoll]

April’s fool (Matthew Gray Gubler/Reader)

Prompt: April’s fool joke goes horribly wrong 

Warning: Angst, Matthew Gray being a little stupid, cursing, anger, fluffy ending ‘cos... I can’t help it, I’m sorry. 

Summary: Matthew Gray has the stupidest idea to prank his girlfriend on April’s fool, and though everyone tells him not to do it, he doesn’t listen... and pays for it

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader 

Word count: 2K

Masterlist

.

Sometimes you plan something for so long, and in such detail, it’s almost destined to go wrong. Matthew Gray had arranged every minute of his April’s fool joke for his girlfriend. He had set everything, actors had been hired, friends had been warned. 

It was meant to be a disaster from day one. Even Paget and Shemar tried to stop him. But he didn’t listen. 

- “Come on! it’s a prank! (Y/N) is gonna love it!”- Matthew chuckled bounding from foot to foot like a kid, excited with the idea, as his co-stars looked at him in disbelief. 

- “I really doubt it”- Paget shook her head with a heavy sigh- “I actually think you are going to be single by the end of April 1st”

- “Yes man, she is cool and funny, but what you are planning to do is too much”

- “You don’t know her, Shemar!” 

- “I know women, Matthew”- the actor tapped on Gubler’s back a few times and sighed- “And she is going to hate you” 

- “I agree!”- Paget stood up and looked at her friend- “Just don’t come crying when it all burst on your face, ‘cos all I’m going to say is “Told you so”.”

Of course, Matthew Gray Gubler dismissed the warnings and continued with his plan. He was sure his idea was the best April 1st joke ever. 

If only he had known. 

(Y/N) was coming out of the shower, on what was going to be one of the most chaotic April 1st’s mornings in the history of humankind, when she heard the phone. She had five missing calls from an unknown number. That was odd. 

- “Hello? Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

- “Yes, who is this?” 

- “My name is Jen Callahan, I’m calling you ‘cos you are listed as the emergency contact of  Matthew Gray Gubler” 

Those words are enough to make anyone panic. She held the phone tight and took a deep breath, feeling everything around her spinning. 

- “What happened?” 

- “There was an accident on the set, listen, we need you to come right away, he is in surgery right now”

- “Surgery?? why??”- (Y/N) yelled in shock 

- “As far as they told me, there was an unexpected problem with one of the props and he has most of his legs and back burned, apparently, they are third-degree burns, we need you to come” 

- “I’ll be right there!”

(Y/N) got dressed as fast as possible, grabbed the car keys, and rushed out of the house. Even for Matthew, faking a serious accident just for a prank was too much. Right? Right. 

- “Did she buy it?”- Gubler stood smiling next to the nurse he had asked for help pranking his girlfriend. They were both standing at the front desk of the hospital, and the actor could hardly hide his excitement. 

- “She freaked out”

- “Thank you so much, Anna”- he nearly jumped on his spot, like the manchild he was, as the woman next to him sighed and crossed her arms on her chest  

- “Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

- “Yeah! of course! why do you ask?” 

- “‘Cos I would kill my boyfriend if he ever pranks me like this” 

- “That’s because you are not (Y/N), and he is not me, trust me, she is going to laugh for days after this joke, she’ll tell about it to everyone we meet”

Gubler was indeed very certain of his words. The woman shook her head and raised her hands. 

- “I already did my part, and if this goes wrong, I’ll have nothing to do with it.”  

And again, if only Matthew knew what he was doing. What he was getting into.

(Y/N) was driving to the hospital as fast as possible, almost missing a few red lights. She couldn’t believe what had happened, she had kissed Gubler goodbye that morning after they had breakfast, and made plans for dinner out. He had already pranked her for heaven sakes! he had given her a frozen cereal bowl, with frozen milk and spoon. He had left it overnight in the freezer and laughed on her face when she tried to eat it. And that had been it! 

How on earth did he get in a fire on the set?! how?! 

(Y/N) grabbed her cellphone while driving and dialed Paget’s number. She needed more details, she needed to know what was going on, how it had happened. 

Paget was standing next to Shemar on set when her phone rang. Matthew had given them a script in case his girlfriend tried to contact them (literally a script, including (Y/N)’s lines, ‘cos he said he knew her so well, he knew exactly what she was going to say and ask). 

Gubler had actually asked help from the hospital staff to make everything work perfectly: (Y/N) was going to arrive and a “nurse” was going to be waiting for her at the lobby, and ask her to fill a form. Then, she was going to walk her to the waiting room, where a “doctor” was going to give her all the details of the accident and the operation, and then he was going to take her to him. Matthew would be on the bed, pretending to be asleep, covered in bandages, and as soon as (Y/N) would get near, he was going to jump out of bed with a t-shirt that said “April’s fool day!” and (Y/N) was going to be so relieved he was ok, there was no way she was ever going to be mad at him. 

Right? Of course!

Or that’s what Matthew kept telling to himself.  

- “Hello? Paget?”- (Y/N) asked, barely listening on the other side of the phone. She was too worried, too nervous to really know what she was doing. 

- “(Y/N)! (Y/N)! can you hear me?”

- “What happened?! what the fuck happened to Matthew?!”- the actress didn’t really want to lie, but she had given her friend her word she was going to help him with this prank. 

- “(Y/N), listen, calm down”

- “How the fuck do you want me to calm down?! they just called to tell me my boyfriend is in surgery!! what happened?!”- (Y/N) was now shouting on the phone, terrified.  

- “I wasn’t there, I just saw when they took him out… but he is going to be ok! I promise!”- Paget felt like shit listening to how (Y/N) broke in tears. 

- “How do you know that?”- the young woman sobbed- “They told me he was severely burned, that he….”

But there was a yell at the other side of the line and a big crash. Paget stayed still, cold, holding the phone, with widened eyes. 

- “(Y/N)? hello? (Y/N)? are you there?”- but there was no one on the other side of the line. 

- “Hey, what happened?”- Shemar asked as soon as he noticed Paget’s face was white. 

- “I think (Y/N) had an accident”

- “What?” 

- “She was driving, and she was very upset and… I think she crushed the car”- neither of them moved for a second, both in shock to think that might actually happen. 

- “Matthew!”- the actress shouted suddenly- “I have to call Matthew!” 

Gubler was in the hospital room waiting for his girlfriend to appear crying. He was very anxious to see her surprised face when he jumped from the bed with a big smile and a goofy t-shirt he had hand made for the day. But (Y/N) was running late, and the actor was growing impatient.

He was about to walk outside and go see what was going on when his cellphone hummed in his pocket, and he quickly picked it up. 

- “Matthew!!”- Paget yelled as soon as she heard her friend’s voice at the other side of the line, cheerful as always- Matthew! listen to me, something happened

- “What?”  

- “(Y/N) called, and...”

- “Oh please don’t tell me you told her what was going on, ‘cos...”

- “No! Matthew, listen to me, I think something bad happened”- and Gubler’s heart dropped.

- “What do you mean bad?” 

- “She called me on her way to the hospital, and she was freaking out, I tried to calm her down a little, but it was impossible, and then”- Paget made a pause and bit her lips, trying to find the right words to say it. 

- “Then what the fuck happened?!”- Gubler shouted. 

- “Then there as a crash and the line went dead, Shemar is trying to contact her now, but neither of us has managed to do it!”

Matthew Gray’s eyes filled with tears in a second. He was petrified in fear and guilt. He never stopped to think about what was going to happen with (Y/N) from the minute she got the call to tell her he was hurt until she saw him. He knew she was going to be affected, but he didn’t feel the weight of it until that second. He knew (Y/N) loved him, of course, she was going to be nervous and anxious to get to the hospital, which meant she was prone to any accident on the road. Including a car crash. 

- “Oh no, no, no, no”- he repeated over and over again as he walked out the room and ran outside the hospital. He went past a few of the actors he had hired, the nurse he had asked for help, and some random people in the sitting area. He needed to find (Y/N), but he didn’t even know where to start looking. Just the idea of her being hurt was hurting him. Killing him. He had to find her and hold her, and make sure she was alright. 

- “Did you lose something, Gubler?”- (Y/N)’s voice made him jump as soon as he set foot outside the hospital. She was standing there, arms crossed on her chest, her face tightened, narrowing her eyes. 

- “Bunny! you are ok! oh shit! thank god you are ok!”- but Matthew looked past all those details and ran to her, wrapping his arms around her tight, and pressing her as close as his body as possible. He kissed her cheeks, shoulder, and forehead over and over again until she pushed him away and looked at him. 

- “You do realize now your April fool’s joke sucked, right?”- she was still serious, though Gubler was still trying to kiss her and hold her tight- “Thinking someone has been severely injured is not funny!”

- “I know, I’m sorry! are you ok?”- he didn’t even think about his answer, he just apologized and looked at her- “Let me see you”

- “I am fine, nothing happened to me”

- “But Paget said…” 

- “I know what she said… you should call her and tell her I’m ok, by the way”- Gubler nodded and looked at (Y/N) again. Before doing anything else he just leaned in closer to her and kissed her. 

- “I’m sorry I scared you, Bunny”- he whispered and rubbed his lips against hers. 

(Y/N) wasn’t mad, she was glad Gubler had realized he had had a shitty idea and that he had learned a lesson, There are things you don’t joke about.

- “When did you realize it was all a prank?”- he was still holding her tight as he asked. 

- “When I called your mother and she told me the whole plan, two minutes after I started driving, she said she told you it was a shitty idea”- and Gubler smiled, kissing her lips again. 

- “She did… and I didn’t listen…”

- “So I decided you needed to learn a lesson” 

- “Lesson learned, Bunny... I’m so sorry I scared you” 

- I’m sorry I scared you too… though you totally deserved it- Gubler nodded and kissed her for the hundredth time. He sighed thinking he was lucky she was ok, and he was lucky she wasn’t mad. The plan he had for their upcoming anniversary was way better than his April’s fool prank, and the ring he kept hidden in his trailer was the proof. 

- “Come on Bunny, let me buy you lunch”

- “Aren’t you supposed to go back to work?”- Gubler made a pause and sighed  

- “Shit… I’ll buy you dinner then”

- “You better!” 

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader #babymetaldoll writes #april's fool

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 2: the two of them are always walking me into the stormy weather

CW: discussion of a suicide attempt, implied emotional abuse, grief

This wasn't in my original outline and doesn't really further the plot but it's here for the angst. there's a tiny relevant plot detail if you squint. but if you skipped this one, you really wouldn't be lost.

Part 1 | AO3 | Masterlist

Cordelia’s heart raced as she entered Alastair’s bedroom. It felt like a terrible invasion of privacy, but the others were right: if there was any evidence of what he was doing with Belial in this room, she needed to find it. She made the trip over and told her mother and Risa a quick lie about him being pulled out of the city for Shadowhunter business. If the time came that she needed to tell them the truth, she would deal with it then. Slipping into his bedroom afterwards was easy enough.

Her anxiety was eased by the fact that it didn’t feel like her brother’s room. She could recognize all of his things: his small collection of political theories, his brilliant dagger collection, a single tapestry on the wall. However, it was quite rare to see a thing out of place in his room. He’d always kept things very tidy, almost unnaturally so. So perfect that it did not seem real. Now, his desk was a mess, there was some clothing strewn on his armchair, a book left on his nightstand.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. This wasn’t his room. It didn’t feel right, and if her mother or Risa came in, they would know it, too. She got started, first picking up the clothes around the room, then straightening the belongings he kept on his dresser. When she moved onto his desk, she remembered what she’d come to the house for in the first place. The reason James was outside, waiting for her in the carriage. She heaved a sigh and began to sort through and organize the papers on his desk. There were financial documents, a few letters of condolence, even an unopened letter from Charles Fairchild, who clearly still had not given up. Nothing that gave any hint of what Belial might be planning.

As she tucked the papers away into the drawer, she felt a note stuck to the underside of his desk. She pulled it away, finding an envelope with nothing written on it but her name. Her hands shook as she tore it open, her heart beginning to race again.

Dear Cordelia,

If you are reading this letter, I assume it means that I am gone. Unless, of course, you were snooping again, in which case I am bound to be quite upset with you. In the case of the former, however, I must apologize for leaving you so soon. I hope there will never need be a day that you read this letter, but this serial killer business is dangerous at best, and I cannot in good conscience risk my life without some hope that in the event of my death you will read this and heed my words.

She skimmed through the rest of the letter. In it, he detailed all of the things he’d never told her: the full truth about their father. He told her the things he did to him, the things he did to her. He explained Elias’ actions that he was not able to protect her from, though she’d never realized they’d happened at all. From Alastair’s perspective, he could see what she could not: how her father seemed to fall ill most often when she was happy, when she’d begun a new project, when she’d started to make a new friend. He never truly needed her help at all.

He explained it to her and told her that it would be her responsibility now to protect their sibling in ways that he would not be able. He told her what to do, what to look for, how she might be able to help. He apologized for this now being her burden to bear.

Why was it ever yours? she thought, tears springing to her eyes. It didn’t make any sense. This letter was clearly written before their father had died, and she was sure that Alastair’s deal was after. Not that Belial’s Alastair would ever leave a note, anyways. It was not written as someone who welcomed death but as someone who feared it. How was he even connected to the serial killer? How was he risking his life? Why?

She heard a noise from behind her and quickly tucked the letter away.

“What are you doing in here?” she heard in Persian.

She spun around. “Nothing, Risa,” she quickly replied, blinking away her tears. “He simply asked me to retrieve something for him before he left.”

Risa raised an eyebrow at her and shut the bedroom door. “Cordelia joon, what’s really happening? We used that ‘Shadowhunter business’ lie enough times on you when your father disappeared for days at a time; I know how to recognize it.”

Cordelia thought of the letter tucked in her pocket. She exhaled and sat down on the edge of Alastair’s bed. “He-” Raziel, could she actually say these words out loud? “He tried to kill himself. However, a Prince of Hell intervened, offered him a deal. He took it. He’s being controlled by him now, in some way, I think.”

“I see,” Risa responded. She’d been staying with Sona at Cornwall Gardens ever since Elias’ death, and being able to speak in her mother tongue again was a small comfort to Cordelia. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

“Are you… surprised?”

“I certainly did not expect it, but I am not surprised, either. What are you trying to ask, truly?”

“I just want to understand why he would do something like that, why he would- Right after our father’s death? Hadn’t we experienced enough tragedy? Shouldn’t that have been a good thing, for him? With Baba dead he could finally move on, be happy? Why would he-”

“Cordelia joon,” Risa said slowly, sitting beside her and placing a comforting hand on her back. “Your brother is a troubled person, he has been for many years. Not in the ways your parents spoke of it. He did not carry the stress of a boy becoming a man. It was different, it was the weight of many decades that could crush the strongest of shoulders, and his were very small at the time it was placed on his. Do not attempt to enter his mind too much; it will do you no good. Just know there was nothing in this world more important to him than you. Whatever led him to such a decision, he would not have made it without believing in some twisted way that you would not be affected by it.”

Cordelia began to protest, but her words were caught in her throat.

“I know. But we do not always think rationally.”

“He does.”

“None of us do, azizam. Not always.”

Cordelia thought of the letter in her pocket. “He didn’t need to protect us anymore,” she realized. “Not me, not the baby. Not with Baba gone.”

“Maybe,” Risa responded, “but you will drive yourself mad attempting to understand this. Perhaps you will be able find a way to break this deal he made with this Devil, and only then will we attempt to understand what happened, if only to keep it from happening again. And if instead we need to tell your mother the truth, I will be by your side.”

She only nodded in response. “I should- James is waiting for me. I need to finish cleaning, if Mâmân comes in, she’ll know something is wrong-”

“I’ll help.”

Both her and Risa took the next several minutes and tidied up Alastair’s room. Cordelia attempted to discreetly peek into the pages of his books and looked into his drawers, but she still found no sign of anything Belial-related.

As she readied herself to leave, Risa offered her one last thought. “Good luck, joonam. You are so strong, and as is your brother. Remember that.”

Cordelia gave her a sad smile. “Thank you for your help.”

She bid her goodbyes and hurried back to the carriage.

“That took a while,” James commented. “Did you find something?”

Cordelia thought of the letter. “No, not really. I- I had to clean his room.” Her voice broke with the admission. “That sounds so stupid. He just- He never leaves his room like that, or he didn’t, before-”

“It’s okay.” James signaled for the driver to take them back to Curzon Street. “Are you alright?”

Cordelia shrugged. They spent the ride in silence. When they arrived at the townhouse, the rest of the Merry Thieves were already waiting for them.

“Did you find anything?” Matthew asked.

She thought of the letter in her dress. The whole of it was solidly unrelated to the matter at hand, but the serial killer- “There was one thing. A letter. It’s not- He wrote it before our father died, but it mentions something about the serial killer.”

“Can we see it?” Matthew asked.

“No,” she said a little too quickly. “It’s not… There’s just the one line about it.” She sighed and pulled out the letter. “It says ‘this serial killer business is dangerous at best, and I cannot in good conscience risk my life without some hope that in the event of my death,’ etcetera, etcetera. That’s the only line about it. It was clearly written before our father died, but… I don’t understand. He wasn’t involved in the serial killer investigation at all.”

“Perhaps he was already working with Belial by then?”

“He wasn’t. He wouldn’t- He wouldn’t have worked with him before the deal, and this was certainly before it.”

Thomas seemed like he was about to speak, but Matthew spoke first. “There’s still a possibility,” he said gently. “If we could read it, perhaps-”

“No! I already said that you couldn’t! And it doesn’t make any sense for him to have been working with Belial before my father’s death!”

“We’re only trying to help, and it’s not helpful for you to be hiding-”

“I’m not hiding anything! It’s a letter he wrote to me about our father and what I would need to do to protect our sibling from him in a world where he was still alive and Alastair wasn’t, alright?” She didn’t know when the tears began to fall. “So, no, you can’t read it, and, no, I don’t think he would have risked his life, and our sibling’s safety, without sufficient motivation. There must be another explanation.” She folded the letter again and put her head in her hands.

“Perhaps you should go,” James suggested to the others. “We’ll meet tonight at the Devil and decide where to go from here.”

She listened to them leave, but she didn’t look up.

I'm finishing my finals this week & next so hopefully I will updating my fics more frequently once that's over! i've also made a playlist for this fic! it's here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4KaoQmHAoEFMkZH5Fd23gM?si=1357d801920f41c5

taglist (lmk to be added/removed): @jem-nasium @fortheloveofthecarstairs @littlx-songbxrd

Part 3

#alastair carstairs #cordelia carstairs #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic #all gone fic #cw suicide #cw emotional abuse

[mearcatsreturns]

15 for Abby/Luka

For reasons ;)

Under a cut because it's long.

July 2003

To: Luka Kovac <“[email protected]”>

From: Abby Lockhart <“[email protected]”>

Subject: I’m drowning and praying ghosts are real

Dear Luka,

Something about knowing that I’ll never talk to you again is just unbearable. I’ll never laugh at your malapropisms, look into your beautiful eyes, feel your strong hands holding mine, or make love to you again. There won’t be any more jokes about jam and cheese on toast, or you teasing me for my weak but constant supply of coffee. I’ll never hear your amazing, deranged laughter after you prank someone again. No more of your hugs—which are somehow the best hugs in the world. Because you’re gone.

It’s been three days since we got the call telling us you died thousands of miles from home, whether that’s here in Chicago or in Croatia. I didn’t know your dad’s name, Luka. We needed to call him, and I didn’t know. How did I not know? And now I can’t. I mean, L’Alliance told us his name, but the fact that I’ll never learn pieces of your history, of the wonderful man you are, FROM you...how am I supposed to go on and live my life?

For years, I’ve thought medicine was my great thwarted love. I’ve wanted to be a doctor for so long, and I thought I was bitter about having to let go of that dream. Now I wonder. I let obstacles get in the way of pursuing medicine, and it’s made me...well, it’s part of why I was so unhappy. But that makes me think about how I also let obstacles get in the way of us. I was happy with you, you know, until I let fear and my mother and Carter get in the way. God, I wish I could do that over again. We could have had everything, and if I hadn’t gotten in my own way, I’d be happy. I think maybe I could have made you happy, too.

It’s funny. I knew things with Carter weren’t working, and he implied you were part of it. I said it wasn’t, but then five minutes later, I found out you were—are—dead. And I realized you were the reason, or one of the big ones. As soon as Chuny told me, I knew I loved you and had loved you for years. Yeah. Great timing, isn’t it? I keep thinking that maybe I could have kept you from going if I had known or if I had told you. I didn’t want you to go when I thought you were my very attractive friend and ex that I still was fond of. Knowing that I love you—how do I move past that? Knowing that I lost you, first to my stupidity and then to death?

I just...I miss you, and I don’t when I’ll stop, or how to. Susan caught me crying on my last shift, and I didn’t even know what to say. I feel like I’ve been crying or standing still, brittle and stuck in time, since I heard the news. I can’t, Luka. I know I have to keep on moving, and I thought maybe writing you would help. I know you’ll never see this, never have a chance to respond. But the idea that some fragments of your soul linger and can maybe sense...I don’t know. That I’m writing? What I’m feeling? Jesus, this is crazy.

All my love,

Abby

Abby angrily swipes the tears from her eyes. God, what’s the point of writing this? He’ll never see hsi email or her again. Just...without Luka, how can the world be anything but grim and sad and pointless?

She laughs mirthlessly. Maybe it doesn’t matter. No, she knows it doesn’t. Because Abby knows the futility of it, aches with the meaninglessness, she presses send without another thought.

&&&

Three days after that, a miracle occurs. Luka, the Lazarus of this new millennium, comes back from the dead. He’s never been dead, and maybe, Abby thinks, there’s a God above after all. So many people wish for this exact boon, and she—they, the world—gets it. Some higher power believes this planet is a better place with Luka Kovac in it, and Abby is ecstatic.

Until she remembers the email and that they can’t be unsent.

It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Luka is coming back, apparently with a French nurse. Maybe he’ll just delete it without reading it. Maybe it didn’t go through—how does email work for the dead, and how quickly is all that processed?

Abby shakes her head. It doesn’t matter; Luka is alive and returning to them. She can handle a little awkwardness in the face of the sheer joy of knowing the world is a brighter, kinder place. He’s coming back, and that’s what’s important.

&&&

August 2003

It takes Luka almost a week after returning to Chicago to convince Kerry and the other staff to let him go back to his apartment. Even so, they only agree when Gillian assures them she’ll see to his every need.

Abby winces when she hears that, and it makes something flutter in Luka’s chest. Which probably isn’t good for his malaria, but the hope...that is.

It’s another two days of lying in bed before he has the energy to ask Gillian to bring him his laptop. At this point, it’s been months since he’s checked his email, and Luka grimaces at the undoubtedly horrible state of his inbox. He briefly considers never checking again and just getting a new one, but he knows his father struggled to add him to his contacts once already. To expect it of him again would be absurd.

With a sigh, Luka opens his email. It’s just as bad as he feared. He snorts at the myriad messages about Viagra, Nigerian princes, and Russian brides, deleting them without thought. He saves a couple from his dad. He slowly whittles down his inbox, but he freezes when he gets to one email in particular, sent about a month ago.

It’s from Abby, during the time everyone thought he was dead.

Luka considers calling and asking her if someone hacked her email or is sending spam from her account, but the subject line...it looks real. And Abby’s been odd around him lately, seeming both deliriously happy to see him and awkwardly nervous.

His heart pounds, and he clicks to open it. If this is a spammer, they’re probably about to get whatever they want.

&&&

Abby pours herself another coffee, internally swearing as she prepares for the last two hours of her shift. Deciding to go back to school is great; having to coordinate all the details is less thrilling and leaves her tired and cranky.

Frank ducks his head into the lounge, beady eyes narrowing on her. “Hey, Abby. The Croat is on the phone for you. Line 2. Try to get back out there as fast as you can, Weaver’s yelling at the med students about IVs.”

“Okay, Frank,” Abby says, though she flushes and her palms start to sweat. It’s fine. She can always hide the panic and butterflies in her stomach with sarcasm. It has yet to fail her.

Frank gives her one last suspicious look, then nods and heads back to Admit.

Abby takes a deep breath, then picks up the phone. “Hey, Luka?”

“It’s me. Glad I could reach you. How are you?” He sounds...ugh. So good. And eager and happy, and her heart could leap right out of her chest.

“Doing all right. I just have a couple hours left on this shift, and it hasn’t been too awful today. Only one MVA. How about you? You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Recovering. Listen, did you want to come over for dinner?”

“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.”

“What? I’m a good cook, even if you don’t appreciate wonderful, traditional Croatian dishes,” he says with a chuckle.

“Luka, you just got out of the hospital five days ago. You still need to be resting.”

“Abby, don’t worry so much. I was just kidding. I have some sandwiches from Manny’s, and Anna sent me home with lots of matzo ball soup too.”

Abby bites her lip. Of course she wants to go. But the prospect of spending the evening with Gillian cooing over Luka, knowing that she shares a bed with him, is decidedly less appealing. And there’s the email she sent, which Luka hasn’t acknowledged. He might well have deleted it, or he’s giving her a gracious out.

Her conscience twinges as soon as she thinks about bailing, though. Didn’t she promise herself she wouldn’t take life for granted anymore? She’ll go back to med school, she’ll have dinner with Luka when he asks.

“Abby?”

She starts, realizing she needs to respond. “Yeah, sorry. Yeah, I can do that. I can be there an hour after my shift, if that’s okay.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me too.” He has no idea how much, even if she wishes she knew for sure that he’d deleted the email.

&&&

Abby rings Luka’s doorbell three and a half hours later. She’d meant to come straight from work, but after a patient vomited on her, she decided to head home, shower, and splurge on a taxi to Luka’s. The poor man is recovering from being deathly ill and doesn’t need County’s fumes making things worse.

There’s the sound of the deadbolt sliding, and Luka answers the door, grinning happily at her. “Good, you made it! Come on in!”

“I did. Sorry it took me longer than expected.” Abby steps into his apartment, looking around. It’s been such a long time since she’s been here, and she notes the subtle changes in the art and decor.

“No worries. I know how it goes.” He places a hand at the small of her back, guiding her inside.

Abby stiffens for a second at how his touch burns even through the layers of her shirt and light jacket, but she relaxes, enjoying the feel while she waits for Gillian to appear and end the fleeting joy.

Luka is unfazed. “Now, of course we can just eat the sandwiches, but if you want to heat up the matzo ball soup, you can. Since you don’t want me standing,” he says with a wink.

Abby smiles back, shaking her head. “Oh, I see how it is. Make the woman who worked all day do more household work when she gets ho—wait, where’s Gillian? Isn’t she supposed to be taking care of you?”

“She’s not here,” he says simply.

Going to the fridge and taking out the containers of soup, Abby places them in the microwave. Is Gillian out for the evening, or is she gone gone? “Shouldn’t you be with her? Or her here with you, whatever.”

Luka is quiet for a long minute, and Abby wonders if he intends to answer. Finally, he breaks the silence. “I asked her to leave.”

Abby’s pulse speeds up. “What? Why?”

Luka takes a deep breath, clearly ready to respond, and—

The microwave dings, and they both jump. Exchanging a sheepish look, they laugh.

“Look, let’s get some food, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Abby dishes up their soup and sandwiches, preparing trays so they can sit on the couch. Luka turns on the television, and Abby’s heart rate comes back under control. They sit together in companionable silence while they eat and watch Thom and Jai and the rest of the Fab 5 whip some hapless lawyer’s life into order. When they finish their meal, Abby cleans up, taking the trays back to the kitchen.

She heads back to the couch at the opposite end from Luka, not daring to get closer when she really has no idea what’s going on.

Luka clears his throat and mutes the TV. “So, yeah. I asked Gillian to leave.”

“Oh. So, um, did you break up?”

“She was never my girlfriend, really. She has a boyfriend back in Montreal, they just…” Luka shrugs and runs a hand through his hair.

Abby is more lost than ever. “Ah.”

Taking a deep breath, Luka continues, finally looking over at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful she helped me get here and took care of me, but we were never serious.”

Something starts to tug at Abby’s heart, squeezing and twisting and kicking to get free. Is it...hope? “Well, I’m glad she got you here safe, but you should have someone staying with you while you recover, Luka. Malaria is dangerous.”

He gives her a look. “I know how dangerous malaria is. I’m getting better. And besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for me to ask her to stay when things are over because I’m in love with someone else.”

Her heart leaps into her throat. “Someone else?” she squeaks.

Luka nods, swallowing. “Yeah. And I have a reason to think she might be in love with me too.” He slides over to her side of the couch, reaching for her hand.

Abby meets his eyes—those beautiful green eyes that are the best color in the world—and squeezes his hand, incapable of words. Does he mean…?

With his other hand, Luka reaches up and cups her cheek, running his thumb along the subtle arch of her cheekbone. “Abby, if you’ve changed your mind since you sent that email, please tell me to shut up.”

That stupid, ridiculous email might be the best thing she’s ever done in her life. She leans into his hand, licking her lips as she shakes her head slightly. “I haven’t changed my mind. I didn’t mean for you to see it and hoped I could learn how to hack computers and delete it but—”

Luka cuts her off. “I would never forgive you if you managed to delete it. You wouldn’t believe how much faster I healed after that.”

Abby leans forward, sliding into Luka’s waiting arms. “Then maybe I’ll write you some more emails.”

“Emails aren’t what I want right now,” Luka says.

Funny, Abby doesn’t either. Then his lips brush hers, and all her worries and fears fade away. She knows she has to tell him about med school and he needs to finish recuperating, but when Luka deepens their kiss and pulls her closer, Abby ceases to think at all.

She has Luka back, and now they have each other again.

#er #nbc er #er ff #luby #luby ff #abby lockhart #luka kovac #<3 #my fanfic

[sweetlavenderwritings]

Back To His Nest- Pt. 2

A/N: I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I DIDN’T EXPECT THE LOVE THE FIC GOT AND WAS VERY SURPRISED. I initially planned to leave it at that maybe?? but then many of ya’ll actually wanted a part two and i had to rack up my brain on what was gonna happen ( ´△｀) anyways it’s here and i hope it doesn’t disappoint!

Pairing/s: hawks/keigo takami x reader

Word Count: 2 772

Tags: very light angst, love, eventual fluff, domestic fluff,

-ꦼ———▸ Part 1 

⋅. ♪ .⋅  Loving Keigo Playlist

8 Years later…

 You haven’t heard from him ever since you left. As planned, your parents had called him in advance. Telling him he shouldn’t try and contact you anymore, that trying to find you would be a waste of time. You were such a coward that you couldn’t even leave a message, your parents bearing the responsibility of telling him you’ve cut off ties with him completely.

It hurt. The pain was unbearable for the first few months, restless nights of crying as you struggled to keep your composure. You couldn’t even erase his number from your saved contacts. His callers ID still the same nickname you had for him. Despite your parents warning about not contacting you anymore, he still left a call every day. There were neither questions nor any form of pleading you to come back. Because you never answered, he left small messages that he sent at random times of the day. There was no consistent message of what the calls were all about. It was as if he left these messages like a personal diary he’d write to when he felt like it.

 “The day’s great today. It’s a bit hotter than usual but I’m quite grateful for the heat since flying always got me cold.” Yes it did, it was one thing about flying that he disliked. He just got too cold easily, which was why every time he got home, he’d head straight to the showers for a long hot soak then demand cuddles. He liked to call you his personal heater.

“It was too bright though, I had to keep squinting and I almost slammed face first to a billboard! Could you imagine that? Number Two Hero Getting Clumsy! Slams into Make Up Ad Starfish Style.” He laughed. “Okay, that was the worst headline ever. Could you blame me? I’m not really much of a writer like you are. Somehow, you always knew how to string words together beautifully… Ahh, looks like a low class villain is up to no good. I’ll catch up to you later. I love you baby bird.”

And just like that, he hangs up. They always ended in the same way, him having to cut it short because of his duties, and the constant line of ‘I love you.’ It felt so unfair, how he’d make it harder for you to move on. You knew better than to listen to them, but you still did.  You drunk up his voice whenever you heard it, closing your eyes and imagining he was actually there right in front of you, talking to you. When he hangs up, the sad illusion is gone.

There were times you almost called him back, desperately wanting to run back into his arms. To apologize for leaving, to tell him the truth, to tell him you never stopped loving him in the first place. But as your fingers almost reach the call button, your fear of the Hero Public Commission stop you every time.

So you settle for watching him in the news, seeing the headlines as he saves dozens of people every day. You read every article you see online, scouring every page for stories. It was torture, but you had to keep strong, not just for yourself. It wasn’t like you were alone in this anymore.

After 9 long months, you finally gave birth to your child. His child.

She was perfect. She looked almost exactly like him, honey blond hair and yellow eyes that seemed to glow. Her image made you miss him so much it hurt. But these feelings of pain and misery were shoved off to the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on your newfound feelings of joy and contentment. After so long, you felt like you could be happy again.

You named her Keiko, meaning “adored one”, because she was. With enough patience, you raised her by yourself. You dedicated your whole life making sure she grew up to be happy; it felt like you were compensating for the pain you brought upon to you and Hawks. Somehow, you comforted yourself with the fact that you saved your child from the horrors of what may come to her when the world comes to know of her existence.

---

  “Mom, come look it’s him again!” Keiko cheered, pointing at the television. An all too familiar winged hero comes on screen, gracefully flying in the air as he saved civilians from a burning building one by one. Your daughter let out another cheer as the number two hero successfully saves all of the civilians. Thankfully, the fire didn’t spread further with the help of the fire fighters helping from behind the scenes.

You stare at the screen as the news reporter interviews Hawks, him looking quite worn out but he manages to give the camera a smile and an enthusiastic response. If it was anyone else, he would’ve looked well composed, not breaking a sweat as he nonchalantly brushes off the praises he gets.

“All in a day’s work.” He says.

But you knew better.

Your daughter turns to you with a beaming smile, happy knowing her favourite hero once again saves the day. Her next words made your heart sank, “For my birthday tomorrow, can we meet him please?! I just want a picture and an autograph, that’s it I promise!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that baby. Hawks is a busy man and there are no chances we can just see him.” This was a lie of course, you knew he’d jump in at any opportunity to see you again but you couldn’t risk it. It pains you to see your daughter so disappointed, but you had to continue lying. For her sake.

“Tell you what, we can at least go to his district tomorrow and buy his merch. I can even get you one of those limited edition wings if you want.” Hawks’ merch was expensive, so his limited edition merchandise was gonna hurt your pockets like a bitch but it was worth it just to make up for what you couldn’t give your dear Keiko.

“Really?!” Keiko squealed as she bounced around the living room, “I can’t believe I’m going to have my own wings like Hawks, the number two hero! I can’t wait to tell Kiyoko as soon as I get them, she’ll be so jealous of me haha!” You smiled as you picked her up from the couch, stopping her from jumping off.

“If you sleep early tonight we might be able to make it there tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay!”

   You’ve never felt so nervous before. Because one, you were going to Hawks’ precinct with your daughter, all the more chances of meeting him despite NOT wanting to do that. Two, if by some chance- or karma- you both crossed paths, all your hard work would be all for naught. Hawks wasn’t stupid; he’s by far the most observant man you’ve ever met. Many people don’t know this with the way he eludes them with his charm, thus forgetting he’s the number two hero for a reason. Which means even a small glance at your-his daughter; he’d be able to puzzle the pieces together.

So by desperation, you snuggled your daughter with a big fluffy hat, tied her hair into neat pigtails, and then gave her the favourite pair of pink, heart sunglasses she always liked to wear. She scrunched her nose at you fussing over her appearance, but this was only because she was too excited and wanted to leave immediately. You wore a coat, and sunglasses to hopefully hide yourself as well without looking too suspicious. With a final look in the mirror, you left the house with your daughter in tow.

  An hour turned into two, then three, four, five…

 “Kei honey, please. It’s time to go home.” You pleaded. You two spent the next hours walking around and buying her gifts. But whenever you stopped near a shop, Keiko never seemed to lose energy and somehow pulled you into another store to “check things out.” It’s times like this you wondered if you spoiled her too much.

“Wait not yet! We might see him here somewhere!” Keiko tugged at your sleeves as she pointed to the main plaza. “I saw him give interviews here last week mommy; maybe he’ll do it again!”

“Baby please, I told you we’re not here for that. We already bought your gifts so it’s time to go home and-“

“Mommy, look! I think it’s him!” Oh no.

As if on cue, the famous red winged hero zoomed in on a scene. A villain, large one at that, appeared in the middle of a crowd and began harming nearby civilians as if it was panicking. How did you not notice that?

But now was not the time, you had to get your daughter out of harm’s way and hopefully, his too. Hauling your shopping bags into the loops of your arms, you carried your whining daughter into your arms and darted in the opposite direction you saw Hawks headed.

Hawks POV

 How long has it been, eight years? He never wanted to keep count, but he still did.

 God, he was pathetic. He’s supposed to move on by now, find another woman to give his affections to, forget about you then happily live his life.

 But he couldn’t and it sucked.

 He always felt he was too sentimental despite being a double agent. You would think after all he went through, he’d be hardened and cold as stone. Yet he remained quite soft, too empathetic as what his superiors commented. Fuck that.

He’s on his last patrol for the day, flying over the main plaza to keep civilians bustling on the streets. He doesn’t have any plans for later (as he usually does), so he thinks he’ll spend another night away drinking in his balcony or watch a sappy chick flick in the late hours.

He remembers he has fan mail he’s yet to open. Not that he’s ever obligated to do so, he’s free to throw them in the shredder for all he cares. They’re mostly enveloped underwear sprayed with sickeningly sweet perfume anyways. But he’s been receiving sweet letters from a little girl lately. Messages full of pure adorations and gratitude for his work. Judging by the handwritings and small creative decorations, the letters clearly had been made with a lot of effort. He can’t help but look forward to them every week, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

His thoughts of his late evening plans are disrupted with the sudden sounds of screams and shrieking from below. Without wasting a second he rushes to the scene.

 As he got closer, his eyes widened at the sight of who was causing the ruckus, or rather, what.

He dodged the Nomu’s sharp claws that swiped by his face at an alarming speed. In a beat, his feather flew from different directions, all leading to his target. They cut deep gashes onto its skin, but the Nomu’s regeneration was fast, healing its wounds as soon as it was inflicted on it.

Hawks never deterred, continuing his attacks while sending some of his feathers to keep away civilians from the disaster transpiring near him.

He could vaguely hear cheers and shouts from the crowd as he rapidly attacks the creature, somehow finding it difficult to cause enough damage to knock it out of conscious. As he flies around the attacking monster, he spots a vulnerable looking spot in its neck. Pausing for a second, he narrows his eyes as he aims. He was about to release a feather until the Nomu lets out a loud piercing shriek, causing everyone near them to shut their eyes at the screeching wail and cover their eyes.

 Fuuck, it must have sensed me. He thought.

 As soon as it stopped it’s shrieking, it speeded off to another direction. With a curse, Hawks followed it in pursuit. Pushing and carrying away with his feathers to keep them from getting harmed. The Nomu sets its eyes on a little girl with her mother, launching itself on its haunches then runs at a great speed towards the two.

The little girl screams then hides herself in her mother’s arms. The mother tries desperately to get away, but with the Nomu’s great speed and the closing distance between them there was nothing left to do but to brace herself in front of her child.

“No!” Hawks yells as the Nomu’s claws at the mother. Before it could land another attack, he strikes one of his biggest feathers at its neck. The Nomu stills, and then drops to the ground.

Hawks doesn’t have time to check if it’s dead or not, rushing over to the poor injured mother with her crying child. As he finally makes his way to the woman his heart stops.

It was you.

With shaking arms, he cradled you against his chest. He couldn’t believe it. After all these years, he got to see you again. And with a child! Wait… a child?

He took a look at the crying girl, blond hair and honey eyes… just like him.

His eyes widened in shock. Hair and eyes just like his, it couldn’t be.

“Is my mom gonna be okay?” The girl sniffled. He mentally slapped himself in the face, how could he forget the situation at hand and not comfort his distressed child? “She’ll be okay,” he assured her, “Help is on the way, okay? Can you breathe slowly for me birdie? So you can calm down.”

She wipes the tears from her eyes and nods. At the sound of an ambulance, he stands up while he carries your unconscious body. As the medics put you in a stretcher, he takes the time to actually look at you.

You looked much more different. Hair a different length from before, eyes much more tired, and cheeks less full. It must’ve been hard for you, he thinks. But now I’m here.

He turns to look for his daughter, who was behind him all along. Slowly, he bends over to pick up her shaking form. She raises her arms in surprise, but trusting nonetheless. As he settles her in one arm, he holds her close and looks at her.

“What’s your name, kid?” he softly asks.

“Keiko.” She mumbles shyly. Keiko, you named her after my own name? Hawks felt tears springing into the corners of his eyes. Before he could wipe them away, Keiko surprises him with a hug to his neck. She clings onto him as if he was her lifeline as he mutters something in his ear.

“Thank you for saving me hero.” Hawks finally lets his tears fall.

 Reader’s POV

 After waking up, you found yourself lying in a hospital bed. Your body felt heavy, you desperately needed to pee, and your throat was parched. You looked around and see your daughter was asleep in a couch near your bed. There was a small bouquet of flowers in your nightstand, but what surprised you the most was the warm, calloused hands that held your left hand; the very same hands that you held years ago. Keigo was asleep.

You ran your hands softly in his hair, a small habit you used to do when he came home utterly exhausted. Hawks stirred in his sleep before opening his eyes. Honey orbs met yours as you felt a smile form on your face.

“Good morning to you too, Kei.”

“Chealsey, oh thank god.” He leapt up from his spot on your bed then embraced you. The hug made you wince but you could’ve cared less. You missed him, you craved for his warmth for years and you never thought you’d ever feel him again. Now he was finally here…

You felt tears fall to your cheeks as you formed apologies in your lips. Hawks merely shushed you as he held you in his arms, “It’s okay, I understand. I know everything.” You clutched his shirt as you sobbed in his chest, letting go all pain and misery you’ve been holding in for years. He kisses your tears away, letting you release all your pent up emotions. He was just glad he had you in his arms once again.

Keiko woke up from her sleep, looking at the two of you in a mess of tangled limbs and tears. “Huh?” she mumbled. “Mommy, why are you crying? What’s going on?”

You both let out a laugh, sharing the same thought. There was going to be a lot to explaining to do.

A/N: fINALLY!! The ending is here! Hope ya’ll liked it everyone ≧(´▽｀)≦  this is unedited and i might do so when i wake up the next day lol. tysm for the love ya’ll gave this ficlet and im sorry for the wait.

#hawks x y/n #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #bnha fanfiction #mha hawks #bnha #mha #mha x you #keigo takami #keigo #keigo x reader