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mylifeisactuallyamess · 1 year

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I posted 4,392 times in 2022

371 posts created (8%)

4,021 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@princessxkenobi

@daydreamsofren

@acrossthesestars

@blondiwankenobi

I tagged 3,126 of my posts in 2022

Only 29% of my posts had no tags

#queue dat - 671 posts

#armitage hux - 240 posts

#general hux - 226 posts

#star wars - 209 posts

#domhnall gleeson - 165 posts

#the sandman - 150 posts

#moon knight - 147 posts

#comment reblog - 122 posts

#moon knight spoilers - 119 posts

#dream of the endless - 116 posts

Longest Tag: 106 characters

#feelin sorry for urself bc ur little game is over and u haven't got the balls to go out and find a new one

My Top Posts in 2022:

A/N: Posting and running because I am exhausted! The excitement from the extra episode sent me on a frenzy. I’ve been struggling a lot with myself, imposter syndrome and perfectionism but I am trying everyday to push through it. The interaction I get is really humbling for someone like me and I am so grateful. Also, go watch the new episode, it’s amazing.

Warnings: Do not tag Neil Gaiman in any of my work or he will block me and I do enjoy his page. This fic is an 18+ sloooow burn. I am taking huge artistic license with the world because I am going by the TV series alone. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Tags will be updated per chapter but if you know how the series goes then you know where the tags are heading. This shit is unbeta’d. Reader is femme and I will always be respectful of characters pronouns throughout the fic. If I do slip up please feel free to message me and it shall be corrected.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless/ Morpheus x F!reader/oc insert.

Summary: Brought to life by the power of the Dreaming, you were tasked with a single purpose. Find Lord Morpheus. However, once your purpose is completed will he find it in his heart to keep you around or was your purpose the only reason you were brought into being. Multichapter fuckery.

Prelude

Word Count: 2.2k+

Tagging: @a-bang-for-your-bucky @lu123sworld @leighanne03 (if you’d like to be tagged or taken off just let me know.)

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176 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

Excuse me. I need a moment.

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192 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

Different anon here. I don't know if you're taking requests, but I saw this in the prompt list and immediately thought of Hux

"enemies to lovers kissing for the first time, and it's a tender kiss"

If you aren't taking requests or aren't inspired by the quote, I'll completely understand if you don't write anything

A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long, my writers block has been stupid. And annoying. I hope you like this!

Warnings: fighting, knives, enemies to lovers trope.

Prompt: Enemies to lovers kissing for the first time, and it's a tender kiss.

It was dark, no lights shone on this side of the cantina and you had managed to slip into the room unnoticed. You waited for your eyes to adjust, but the room was pitch black, leaving you to rely on your other senses. Closing your eyes, you let go of the tension and relaxed. You swore you heard the swish of fabric, cocking your head toward the sound and ducking at the last moment.

A blaster bolt slammed loudly into the wall where your head had been moments before, shattering the stillness. But it told you everything you needed to know. You uncoiled your legs, leaping at your attacker and colliding heavily with his body as the two of you went down in a tangle of limbs.

The fight for dominance was fierce and you didn’t hold back, a soft grunt was the only noise he made when you raked your nails down his neck. He managed to get a good left hook against your face, disorienting you with blinding lights and colours and giving him the upper hand he needed to subdue you. After more silent fighting you found yourself slammed into the wall, your head pressed heavily against the cold surface, his hand holding you in place by the neck. His other hand had curled around your wrists behind your back, his knee wedged inelegantly between your legs, his body pinning you in place. You could feel his warm breath heave into your ear and you wiggled against him, but his grip was unshakable.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, assassin.” He whispered, his lips delicately brushing that soft spot just below your ear with each word.

“Anyone would think you’re trying to seduce me,” your words were cut off with a groan as the pressure from his knee increased and your body responded instantly.

“Do you like this? Being helpless?” He asked softly. Your lip curled as you tried to free your hands, but his long fingers were like vices and you could feel your own going numb.

“I hate it…” Oh! You gasped when he tightened his hold on your throat, rocking your body along his thigh and he hummed in amusement.

“Hate it so much you enjoy it?”

“Let me go and I’ll show you what I enjoy.”

“I’m not stupid. Soon as I release you, you’ll try to kill me.” His voice was low and confident.

“Isn’t that the thrill of the job?” He huffed a sigh against your neck, his hand moving to trail firmly down your body. His long fingers left no pocket or seam untouched, dragging out your throwing daggers, each one thudding with precision into the wooden floor. Next he slipped out the hidden blade in your boot, the small blaster out of your other one. He dragged out the twin blasters from their holsters at your hips and unclipped your tool belt, letting it fall with a loud clatter to the floor before kicking it away.

“Have I removed all the stings from my little bee?” He asked silkily as his hand moved from your hip and slid down the curve of your backside.

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” you replied feeling relieved when he finally let go of your hands. You shook them trying to get feeling back into the tips of your fingers, turning so your back was against the wall. It was still pitch black, you could hear the sound of his starchy clothes across the room. Holding your breath and reaching for the single blade you had left on you. One he never would have found in the seam of your leather trousers, it was a last resort and easily reachable if you were ever cuffed with your hands behind your back. Your movements were fluid and swift, leaping toward the sound of his breathing, which expelled in a rush as you slammed into him. You both fell onto the floor, your blade just pressing against his neck and he froze. You legs rested either side of his body, your hips rocked against him slightly as you leaned down to his level.

“You missed one,” you whispered, taking the soft lobe of his ear between your teeth and biting not too gently, eliciting a soft rumble of warning from his chest.

“You underestimated me, again,” he drawled softly. You froze, feeling the prick of his own blade pressing into the softness of your abdomen.

“Seems we’re in a bit of a stalemate,” you breathed.

“How do you propose we break it?” He asked, not able to hide the slight waver in his voice. Leaning lower you saw his eyes widen in the dimness, his chest rose and fell rapidly against your own but he did nothing to stop you. Brushing your nose against his cheek, you could feel his rapid breath tickle the side of your face, his blade eased away from your body, his arm laid out on the floor and you pressed your advantage.

His lips were softer than they looked and at first they didn’t move. Stunned to stillness by your bold move and you expected him to push you away. Shove you off or threaten to stab you again, but he seemed frozen. Your lips curled in amusement, gently brushing against his mouth again in an effort to get him to join in. Teasing him, stealing his breath and returning it with pillowy softness, making him relax beneath you. Lulling him into a false sense of security as you distracted him, your free hand walking across the floor.

You were surprised when he responded, a soft sigh expelling from him as he pressed his mouth harder against your own. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip and you shivered when he allowed you access. Licking into the heat of his mouth, not able to stop the moan that erupted from your chest at the feel of him. Your life was a lonely one, constantly on the run, hiding in the shadows and dealing with the scum of the Galaxy. Maybe….maybe you’d keep this one alive.

Moving swiftly you ripped the blade from his loose grasp. Breaking the kiss and sitting up with a gasp, both blades now pressing into the sides of his neck. His curled fist slammed into the floor in frustration, hatred glinting in his eyes but you weren’t sure if it was for you or because he’d fallen for your cheap trick.

“Got anything to make a deal, General? Or can I contact Pryde and receive my payment?”

“I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could,” you purred. An arrangement you were determined to satisfy you both.

202 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

I see us all.

239 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“I am the King of Dreams.” - Has a nice soft feel to it.

“I am the Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.” - That’s a threat wrapped up in a title. Come on the wrong side of me bitch and I’ll set my nightmares on you. You’ll be begging for me to take them away and wishing you’d never been born. So come on. Try me.

431 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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i know we all love toji being nasty, but i'd love to see a (slightly) sweeter side of him and the reader as mamaguro, if possible?? maybe featuring the reader in his lap, the first time toji's ever really wanted to really do right by his partner... the ability of a man like him to have a softer side has plagued me ever since akutami said he mellowed out with his wife 😭

saying the important things - toji x fem!reader (2.1k)

toji’s not the kind of man who wears his heart on his sleeve. but he’ll try, for you.

warnings: none! reader is mamaguro and uses fem pronouns, pregnancy is briefly talked about. this is just soft honestly

[reblogs/comments appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Megumi is sleeping.

He lays in his crib, his chubby cheeks squished against the soft mattress, his hair dark and messy. At times like this, you can see so much of Toji in him, and it makes your heart ache. You can’t believe that you helped create something so perfect – from his tiny face, the tilt of his nose, the perfectly formed fingers and toes . . . You find it hard to believe that Megumi could really be yours.

“You’re starin’ at the kid again.”

Toji’s voice comes from behind you and startles you – you jump, guiltily turning to see your husband. His voice is dark and rough, but as you see him you realise that his face is anything but. Oh, sure – he has a scar bisecting the corner of his lip, muscles rippling out of a tight black shirt. But the look on his face is peaceful, and as he meets your eyes it just seems to fade into something even more so.

“You come stare at him,” you say, “you’ll understand why.”

He makes a little huff of amusement – but Toji Fushiguro is under your thumb, so he humours you by moving forward. Big arms wrap around your waist, making you feel safe and held in his embrace. His chin rests on your shoulder, sharp green eyes on the messy-haired bundle of wonder sleeping in the crib that you’d watched Toji build with a screwdriver clenched between his teeth.

(“How hard can it be?” He’d asked you. “S’flat pack, right? Guys who aren’t half as smart as me do it--”. In the end, it had taken six and a half hours and Toji had had to physically pick you up and sit you down on a chair because you couldn’t stop bending down to help. He’d placed his hands on his hips and pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re gonna get yourself stressed, sweetheart, and it isn’t gonna do any good for the kid.” You hadn’t expected Toji Fushiguro to be the over-protective kind . . . but you’d be lying if you said that his pout and furrowed eyebrows weren’t adorable).

Megumi’s eyes had turned the same shade of green as Toji’s around the five month mark, for the record.

“We did a good job, huh?” There’s a hint of pride in Toji’s voice that he does his best to dampen down – he’s trying to be cool, even now. Your hands come to rest over his own, where they’re clasped onto your hips.

“I think we did a great job,” you tell him, and snorts out a little laugh against your neck that tickles, making you bend back into sub-consciously. “No, really. I think he’ll fetch a high price on the black market. Look at all of that hair.”

“Takes after me,” Toji tells you. “I think I’d fetch a high price too.”

“You know you’d fetch a high price,” you say, turning around to wrap your arms around his neck. You find yourself on your tip-toes just so you can feel a little closer to equal to him. “You’re a wanted man, Mr Fushiguro--”

“You’re a wanted woman, Mrs Fushiguro,” He says, bending his head – and his lips brush across yours, and you feel your entire body fill with the heady knowledge that he wants you. You know it – he makes it clear in the gentler way he holds you against him, his attempts to do chores around the house, the way his fingers entangle with yours when you’re out doing grocery shopping as a little family. But there’s something that you can’t quite express that feels all the more special about the embrace and the words when you two are on your own.

It hadn’t always been like this.

When you’d first met Toji, he’d been all dark flashing eyes and dangerous smile and tugging hands, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth as he flirted and charmed his way into your life. His voice had been dark and deep, he’d winked at you and made insinuations and insisted, occasionally, that this wasn’t a relationship so much as a mutually beneficial arrangement--

Until someone else had flirted with you in a club and Toji had grabbed your hand and pulled you into him, arm wrapping around your waist. Perhaps you’d been trying to make him jealous – you’d long ago accepted that your crush on Toji and desire to make him yours officially were going to come to a sticky end, seeing as he seemed to value his freedom so highly – but you hadn’t expected it to work.

He’d murmured into your neck that night that you were his, forever, and he never wanted to see someone else’s hands on you again--

“Does this mean I can call you my boyfriend, finally, then?” You’d asked, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb brushing the scar on his lip. Toji had grinned at you, dark and deep and dangerous but warmer than you’d ever seen it. He’d held you that night like he’d just realised how precious you were.

“Sweetheart,” he’d said to you in response. “Hell. Y’can call me your husband if you want.”

You had laughed and thought he was joking.

“Maybe I’ll try that after a proper proposal,” you’d said, tapping his nose. You’d expected him to grab your hand before you could make contact and pin you underneath him, tell you off for being so cheeky – but instead, the pad of your finger had made contact with it and you swore you’d seen a dark flush dust his high cheekbones.

You’d figured that was the end of it, until two weeks later he’d pulled out an expensive-looking ring whilst the two of you watched a movie.

“Well?” He’d asked you, looking almost uncomfortable – almost afraid that you might say ‘no’. “Whaddya say, angel? Gonna try callin’ me husband now?”

And you had.

He’d confessed everything to you before he’d asked about taking your name. His exact line of work, why he wanted to leave his old surname behind – and though you know you shouldn’t have, you’d simply taken it in stride. If this was what it took to have him, you would accept it; it had been too long, and you loved him too much, to simply walk away. You’d found out you were expecting Megumi six weeks before the small wedding and had told Toji immediately.

He’d seemed scared, but he’d seemed excited to – whirling you around like you weighed nothing before he anxiously put you back down and stepped back.

“That’s fine, right?” He’d asked. “I dunno much about kids. I haven’t hurt ‘em or anything, have I?”

He’d made a real effort around the house whilst you were incapacitated by your pregnancy, too – sometimes too much of one, as he batted away your attempts at cooking or cleaning with an insistent ‘I can do it, sweetheart!”. You’d let him make mistakes – honestly, a couple of disasters notwithstanding he’d made a decent effort.

You’re not afraid to leave Megumi alone with him, though Toji still hasn’t quite mastered the life skill of ‘talking to my baby as if he is my child and not simply a friend who I want to slightly intimidate’.

Sometimes you see Toji sat in an armchair with Megumi in his arms, a tiny hand wrapped around Toji’s massive thumb, and you think you could die from how much you love them both.

“C’mon,” Toji murmurs, breaking the kiss. “He’s fast asleep.”

You let yourself be dragged over to said armchair in the corner of the room, next to the little case of children’s books you and Toji had chosen for him

Megumi likes dogs; he claps his pudgy little hands together whenever one is introduced in the bright colours and flat pages. At nine and a half months, he had furrowed his little face and pronounced; “Gog. Goggy.”. Toji had grabbed the cheap camcorder that he’d been recording as many milestones as possible on and tried to bully Megumi into saying it again, but all of the footage he’d actually gotten was you laughing in the background as Megumi attempted to cross his chubby little arms and look at his father in disapproval. He had not said ‘goggy’ again until you had thoughtlessly picked up a little pair of black and white stuffed dogs whilst in a toy-shop with him to show him. Toji had had to go back to the shop ten minutes before closing to purchase them, and even now Megumi tucks them under his arms when you take him out in his pushchair.

You let yourself, too, be pulled into Toji’s lap as your husband gets comfortable, readjusting your body so he can wrap his arms around you and you can bury your face into his neck.

He smells like cigarettes and your laundry powder, familiar and comforting.

He takes a deep, pleased breath that makes the muscles in his throat ripple – you bring up a hand and trace them, fingertip lodging in the hollow of his throat for a moment before your hand moves down to rest over his clavicle, and then where his heart is beating steadily under his clothes and skin.

“You feelin’ me up, baby?” He asks with a smirk. “Y’can just ask, you know--”

“I’m feeling your heartbeat,” you say to him, listening to his pulse in his neck. “I think it might have stopped. We should look into it.” “Is this because I made that joke about the black market? Babe, you’d never let me fuckin’ sell our kid--” “Don’t swear around Megumi,” you say, automatically, your eyes swivelling to Megumi’s crib without moving your head from its comfortable position. “You’ll give him a dirty mouth.”

“You love my dirty mouth,” Toji purrs, the arm around your waist pulling you in tighter and closer. Heat rushes to your face and you give him a headbutt in the neck that’s half affectionate and half warning.

“Not now,” you say, sighing comfortably. Toji is warm and solid and always there for you. “I’m too comfy.”

“Ah, far be it for me to interrupt your nap-time,” he teases, but he pushes a kiss onto your forehead anyway. “Hell, I could go to sleep here myself. Nobody said havin’ a kid would be this much effort.”

“Everyone said it,” you say, stifling a yawn. “You just didn’t believe them.”

He snorts again.

“Y’got me there,” he says. “Wouldn’t change him for the world, though.”

“You’re just saying that because he takes after you,” you smile against his skin. “If he looked like me and acted like me, if he was sweet and demure--”

This gets another laugh from Toji, who knows exactly just how not sweet and not demure you can be.

“I’d love him even more, probably,” he says. “We’re gonna have some fuckin’ blow-ups in the future, sweetheart. Good job you’ll be around to sort out your men, right?”

The arm not about your waist moves so he can cup your face now, tip your chin up towards him. His eyes are still very sharp, but they’re softened with love as he looks down at you. Toji gives you these moments in the quiet of night – when he’s not formerly-of-the-Zenin-family, when he’s not the ‘Sorcerer Killer’, when he’s not an assassin-for-hire – when he’s just Toji Fushiguro, your husband and father of your child. You treasure every single one of them and hold them close to you like a precious pearl, stringing them onto a necklace of memories you’ll cling to forever.

“I’ll be around forever,” you tell him. “If I die, I’ll come back to haunt you and tell you what a shitty job you’re doing on the PTA.”

He snorts.

“Don’t even joke,” he tells you with a flickering smirk – but that smirk quickly drops away to be replaced with a look of intense solemnity. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Are you getting soft on me?” You ask, but the hand tipping your chin up does a little jerk.

“Please,” Toji says, a little softer now. “Let me tell you I love you and mean it.”

Sparks fly all through your stomach, your heart twisting in your ribcage. You rarely see this kind of gravitas on his face – he rarely takes this tone, almost needy as he implores you to listen.

“I love you too,” you breathe. “You know that.”

He pulls you into a kiss that knocks the breath out of you, that makes you feel like you and Toji and Megumi are the only real people on Earth and everyone else is an imitation.

“Yeah,” he says, gruff. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearin’ you say it, though.”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #fem reader #writing #jjk writing #jjk posting #Anonymous

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aries-writingblog · 3 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Summary: When Sam gets injured on a mission, YN will do anything to fix her mistakes. While she worries about fixing Sam, Bucky picks up on her guilt. Picking up the pieces of herself she dropped in her frantic efforts.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2322

Warnings: panic/ anxiety, mentions of blood and character injury

AN: This was one requested by the lovely and wonderful @cherry-season who gave me so much inspiration to write! I hope I did it justice. Happy reading!! GIF is not my own, credit to original creator.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, threatening to break free of its skeletal cage. Anxious adrenaline flowed in her veins as she paced. Hand rubbing across the back of her neck, impatiently waiting for answers.

It had been an hour since she and Sam returned from their mission. The mission that went completely and horrendously wrong. It started off fine- it started normal. Then it got twisted in a way YN couldn’t even comprehend.

She had been watching his back. She always watched her partner’s back. So what went wrong? What went so off rails- what did she do? How could she have let this happen?

“Miss LN?” YN’s head snapped to the source of the noise. A doctor- still in their surgery gear. She took a shaky inhale, her nerves were decimated. “Why don’t you take a seat- just… try to relax a bit.”

“How- how, where is Sam? Is he okay?” She demanded, moving a step toward the doctor. The woman eased her backwards, gently settling her into a chair. Latex covered fingers pried in between her own glove covered hands. Unclenching the tightly wound fists she had created.

The doctor gave a small, apologetic smile. It quickly fell, giving way to a pressed line of condolence. YN’s stomach plummeted, nausea crawling across her organs. Turning her stomach. Bile rising in her throat. She knew that look. It was the one she had to give to victims when they weren’t going to make it.

“There’s been a slight complication.” She reported quietly, her gaze soft as she studied the agent before her. She was unraveling and quickly. Hands shaking, goosebumps raising on her arms.

“I don’t understand,” YN swallowed, throat aching as her nose burned. Eyes watering from unshed tears. Blurring her eyesight. She blinked them back roughly. “You said you would fix him- what complication?”

“Both kidneys were compromised during the mission- he made it here just in time for us to stabilize him but he is going to need a rapid organ donation to survive.” The doctor informed steadily, keeping her voice even and low. YN’s fingers curled again, trapping her hands between her own. The doctor didn’t blink, unfazed by the strength in her grip. “It’s a difficult task but we have everyone we can working on finding at least one quickly. It’s more complicated due to his blood type- we haven’t been able to find anything available nearby.”

YN sniffled, her nose stuffing up as water slipped down her cheeks. She bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood. The coppery taste coating her tongue.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It had been an easy mission- what did she screw up? Why did it have to be Sam? It should’ve been her, she should’ve-

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the doctor’s concerned features. She could still do something. It wasn’t too late. YN released her hold, wiping across her face. Erasing the remnants of her distress. Her bottom lip trembled but she forced the sentence out anyway.

“What’s the type?”

“He’s O positive.” The doctor didn’t hesitate in a response.

A heavy weight began to lift from her chest, she swallowed back the rough, scratchy feeling in her throat.

“I’m O negative- does that work, can that match? I’ll give whatever he needs.” Her words tripped over themselves, rushing out. Any way to compensate. She was the one who got Sam hurt, she was responsible. She should clean it up.

The doctor’s face brightened almost instantaneously, her eyebrows lifting. Eyes wide.

“It can-“ She cut herself off, pulling YN to her feet. “We need to run a tissue sample test to make sure that you’re compatible. While it’s running, fill out the paperwork just in case.”

YN rushed after the woman, hurrying through the hallways. She could save Sam. The guilt burned in her chest, sinking to meet the rising anxiety in her stomach. Creating a turbulent, vile mixture of self loathing. It had to match… this has to work. Otherwise… she would forever be known as the person who killed Sam Wilson.

~~~~~~

The first thing she became conscious of was a tense pressure on her hand. Then came a muted, muffled noise. It was familiar, albeit distorted and distant. A small groan fell from her lips. In response, the pressure became more intense. A firmer hold. Her eyes blinked open slowly, her head felt light, as if it was floating a thousand feet above her body.

“There she is.” YN turned her head as far as possible, which wasn’t much distance, eyes cutting the rest of the way. She tried to clear her vision, blinking to wear the groggy remnants of sleep away. “How you feelin’?”

“Like shit.” She groaned, throat scratchy and dry. Bucky released his hold, standing to pour a glass of water for her.

“Well, it’s to be expected.” He sighed, stepping closer to her bedside. He grasped her chin gently, angling the lip of the cup to her mouth. Tilting the glass slowly, allowing her time to swallow the water down greedily. “Unlike a major surgery cause, there’s no need to tell the people you love you’re having surgery. Especially not if it’s emergent.”

YN’s lips quirked at the corners. She hadn’t really been thinking of anyone but Sam in the moment. It all happened so fast, the whole day seemed to have been but a blur in her memory. She couldn’t recall details, her thoughts crashed against a hazy wall as she glimpsed back.

“Sorry… didn’t really know what was happening until it did.” She spoke slowly, words felt like molasses on her tongue. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, gently brushing her hair back before returning to his previous seat at her bedside. He pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, giving a quick squeeze of reassurance.

“I understand…” He told her, a soft smile playing on his features. There was a melancholy glimmer in his irises. They betrayed him, as usual. “I was just scared that you… left.”

All Bucky had received was a phone call from the medical wing. Just that he was written down as YN LN’s emergency medical contact and that she had been in surgery. Granted, it had mainly been his fault- he didn’t listen any further for more details. The phone dropped from his hand and he bolted from their shared apartment. Rushing frantically toward her. Panic sloshing, ripping into his chest. Shredding his last hopes of sanity as his thoughts raced.

YN moved her fingers up to his wrist, the bass of his heartbeat thumped prominently into her own body. In response, Bucky’s fingers curled over her wrist, searching for the same feeling. It was slightly weakened, her heartbeat, but it was there. She was alive. A gentle, sleepy smile appeared on her lips. Eyes almost closed again.

“I’m never leaving.” She promised, applying pressure to his wrist. Bucky returned the smile and the gesture, the knot of emotion in his throat unraveling in steady increments. Allowing him to breathe easier.

He reached over, tugging her blankets back up with his free hand. Over her torso in an attempt to contain some of the heat the flimsy hospital sheets provided. He sniffed, clearing his throat. Turning his face away from her view.

“Get some rest, daredevil.” Bucky instructed, sliding his chair closer. Head resting beside their entwined hands. His blue eyes twinkled with tears he had kept bottled away. All YN wanted was to reach over and brush them away but she felt unconsciousness creeping up from behind. Waiting to drag her back into the darkness. Her mouth wouldn’t open, tongue wouldn’t move. Her eyes drifted closed; her last picture was Bucky’s beautiful face resting beside her.

~~~~~~

Bucky sighed gently, curling closer into the warmth she provided. They couldn’t sleep like they used to. He was accustomed to wrapping around her like a vine, keeping her body close to him. The weight, the pressure and warmth, kept him present. Kept him calm. Even if he awoke in a panic, which had eased in the past few months, the feeling of YN’s figure pressed to his always seemed to relieve his frazzled, frayed nerves.

But now, after the surgery, he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted. He couldn’t provide the comfort he craved to give her. And she needed it. He wasn’t blind. Bucky knew exactly why she had rushed into that surgery. The blame that she had placed on herself was too vast. Much too heavy for her to bear alone.

So he tried to convey the comfort in other ways. Helping her to the bathroom and to the shower. Making her meals and sitting with her while she ate. Reading to her, going through as many pages as it took for her to fall asleep. Keeping her distracted from her bed rest. Bringing her presents, mostly just notes that Sam had written and asked Bucky to deliver.

Sam didn’t blame her. Especially not after she saved his life like she did. Bucky had visited when he woke up, explained the situation. How she felt, how it was eating away at her. And he couldn’t get out of bed yet- he was still being heavily monitored by the medical staff. So, for the past few weeks he had resorted to video calls and notes to her. An attempt to cheer her up. Bucky was relieved to see it was working.

“Buck?” YN’s voice was muffled by their shared comforter. He hummed in response, not fully committed to the idea of waking up. His senses were still slightly dull, lulled into submission by the warm body at his side. “Your arm is really heavy and I really have to pee.”

Bucky grunted, shuffling to slide his arm away from her hips where it had lain. YN shimmied over to the edge of the bed, groaning as she pushed her weight over the side. She stumbled, her hand pressed to the gauze padding on her abdomen. Bucky scrambled out of the bed, sheets tangling around his ankles.

“You’re not suppose to do it on your own.” He grumbled, his tone was sleep- laden. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet. YN scoffed, accepting his arm anyway. Together, they crept toward the bathroom slowly, most of her weight against his side. “You coulda asked, doll.”

“I can handle going to the bathroom by myself, Bucky.” YN insisted, her side glare was fatal. Eyes narrowed and full of frustrated fury. “You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“But I want to.” He replied simply, leaning against the doorframe, gazing into the bedroom to give her privacy. He didn’t need to, he had already been witness to every inch of her skin. Every mark on her skin, every freckle and scar. But he figured she would appreciate it none the less. Give her a controllable amount of autonomy. “I like doing it.”

It was the honest truth. Bucky reveled in the fact that every ounce of his attention was placed on her and her alone. He liked to care for her. He liked making her coffee and meals, helping her up and down. It was something he knew the old Bucky did often. The old Bucky took care of Steve when he was sick, and Steve’s mother when he could help. When his sisters were under the weather. It was something engraved in his bones: caring for those he loved. Providing comfort.

“It’s rotten work.” YN’s voice was quiet, the running water almost drowned the words out. But Bucky heard them. He turned slowly, giving her a hand towel to dry her hands. Her eyes were down, staring at the fabric between her fingers. Taking her time, hoping he would move past her sentence.

“Not to me,” Bucky responded. His fingertip brushed against her cheekbone, wisps of her hair passing through his fingers. He tucked them gently behind her ear before tilting her chin up. Persuading her watery eyes to meet his. He smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes portraying the overflowing kindness he couldn’t vocalize. “Not if it’s you.”

YN chuckled, a weak smile on her lips. Shaking her head, she carefully shuffled forward. Wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest. Bucky’s response was instant. Instinctively holding her delicately to his body. Molded against the other. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her shampoo overwhelming his senses. YN pressed closer, the swell of his chest was achingly comforting. His t- shirt soft against her cheek.

“What do you say, I steal a wheelchair and we go up to Tony’s floor. We can bribe his chef to make some of those pancakes with the…” Bucky’s nose scrunched, brows furrowing. His fingertips that had been tracing shapes on her back stilled as he wracked his brain. Mouth twisting with frustration when he came up blank. “What’s the… those color things, again?”

“Sprinkles?” She suggested, pressing her chin to his chest. He glanced down, their noses almost pressed together. Bucky grinned, leaning forward to smack a kiss to her nose.

“Those. How bout we get some of those and we can meet Sam for breakfast?” He asked, squeezing her hips lightly. She nodded, successfully distracted from her thoughts that had been rampant in her head.

“Can he eat those yet? Isn’t he on, like, a hospital diet or something?” YN inquired, wrapping her arm around his waist.

Bucky hummed, helping her hobble out of the bathroom. He had tried carrying her places but she vehemently disagreed. Claiming she would never get better if she didn’t exercise. Eventually, as always, she would get tired and most of her weight would be on him anyways. He didn’t mind it.

“That sounds like a Sam problem.”

“You’re ridiculous, James Barnes.” He grinned at her laughter. His fingertips digging into her side teasingly.

“It’s all for you, sugar. All for you.”

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james barnes x female reader #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x you #james barnes x reader

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harrywritingsbyme · 3 years

Text

Relax

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

A/N: Just wanted to do something soft sweet and spicy🥺...I and just about everyone else definitely use some of this. Enjoy🙃

You were completely over it all. It was only the first half of the semester and you were already feeling like you weren’t going to make it and just crumble under the pressure. You were drowning in assignments and on top of that, you weren’t getting enough sleep or time to recover from pulling so many all-nighters to get said assignments done. To make matters worse, you hadn’t had any real time with Harry in almost two weeks. If you had to choose what was worse, between your school mess and little time with Harry, you’d choose the latter. A good cuddle, Harry’s soothing words, and anything else he had up his sleeve would be the perfect remedy to this storm of stress. You were hoping that you could get some of that before you made it to the verge of collapse and breakdown. But by the looks of it, you were right at that point and Harry was going to have to build you back up.

You’d finally finished your last assignment for the day and you were so out of it. You had a headache, you were hungry, you were tired, and you were stressed. Nothing good could possibly come from that. While Harry was downstairs cooking dinner for you both, you were upstairs sitting up in the bed putting the final touches onto your assignment before finally hitting the submit button. And once you did, you couldn’t stop yourself from crumbling. You waste no time closing your laptop, pushing it from in front of you, and burying your face in the pillows. You wrap your arms tightly around the soft pillows and you just relax your body and mind. Even though it was supposed to be a good experience to let the stress melt away, you couldn’t stop the tears from bubbling up in your eyes. Your chest was heavy and you were right where you didn’t want to be. You were crumbling. You couldn’t take any more. Your mind and body were beyond overloaded and this was the only way to have some type of peace. Your body shook as you continuously sobbed into the pillows. Since you kept your grip on the pillows tight, you couldn’t hear Harry come up the stairs and into the bedroom.

When he came up, he wanted to let you know that dinner was ready and that you guys could relax and maybe watch a movie since you’d been extremely busy in the weeks leading up to now. But when he came into the room to find you sobbing on the bed, he realized that you were going to need a lot more than dinner and a movie. Harry is quick to come over to the bed and move your laptop onto the bedside table before crawling up next to you. This is what Harry hated the most. He was absolutely gutted to see you sobbing in bed. What he hated even more was why you were crying. You cared so much and worked so hard when it came to school and you were always putting your best foot forward. So to see you become a complete wreck from your school work was incredibly disheartening.

Now instead of immediately jumping in and asking you what was wrong, Harry just laid there with you. He kept his hand moving up and down your back and just let you get it all out. Whenever he was in a situation like this, you always let him get it out before moving on to making him feel better. And it always worked. Once you’ve let out the heavy tears, leaving the little ones that were hanging back, you finally let go of the pillows and lifted your head to turn towards Harry.

“Baby!” He coos worriedly , looking into your reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“It’s too much.” You mumble to him, feeling a fresh set of tears bubbling up.

“I know baby, but it’ll get better. I can promise you that.” He reassures, bringing his hand up to your warm cheek.

“I don’t know Harry, it’s only the first semester and I’m already drowning.” You whisper back pessimistically.

“You’ll get through it sweetheart, I promise. And I’ll help you out, maybe write an essay or two.” He continues with a smile, trying to lighten up the mood a little.

“Thanks babe. But I don’t think you’d make it through the first five pages of one essay, let alone two.” You chuckle, already feeling a little lighter.

“I think I could make it through one of them. I mean, I do write songs after all.” He replies smartly.

“I would try and come up with a good comeback for there being no correlation between song writing and essay writing but my brain would literally explode.” You reply quickly with a sarcastic and wide smile.

“I’m not gonna say that I’m wrong, but I’m not gonna say you’re right either.” He replies.

“I know.” You reply, softly smiling at him.

“I love you though.” He whispers sweetly.

“I love you too.” You reply with a wide smile.

“Wanna take a bath to relax baby?” He asks with a pout, bringing his hands down to squeeze your shoulder.

“Mhm.” You mumble back to him.

“Y’want everything you like in there?” Harry asks, moving away from you to get off of the bed.

“Yes please.” You sigh happily as Harry makes his way to the bathroom to get everything ready for you.

And after almost 20 minuets of fumbling around in the bathroom, Harry fills up the bathtub with the perfectly warm water along with your favorite salts, bubble bath, and oils that you kept in the basket you’d designated for your baths. He even lights the candles you kept with everything else. Once everything is set up and perfect, Harry rushes back into the bedroom to whisk you into the mini oasis that he created for you in the bathroom.

“Now let’s get these off and and get you in there.” He huffs, sitting you back down on the floor before bringing his hands over to remove your clothes. He quickly helps you out of your clothes, leaving you naked in front of him. He then helps you into the bathtub and allows you to get comfortable.

“Are you gonna get in with me?” You ask, looking up to him for a response.

“Y’want me to?”

“Pretty please?” You pout up to him. And with that, Harry proceeds to remove all of his clothes as well so that he can join you. When he makes it to his sweats, he quickly pushes them down his legs leaving him completely naked in front of you. And you couldn’t help but bring your eyes up to the area between his legs, causing a little smile to spread across your face.

“Can’t help it, y’too pretty.” He explains, before stepping into the tub behind you. He then sinks down into the water and wraps his arms around your body, pulling you back towards him.

“Could you maybe- y’know…” You whisper timidly back to him. From your tone alone, Harry could already sense what you were getting at.

“Want me t’fill you up baby?” He mumbles into your ear, unwrapping his arms from around your middle and bringing it down to your lower stomach. “Want me in here?” He continues.

“Mhm.” You softly mumble back in response.

“Use your words doll.” He pushes on a little, wanting to hear from your mouth.

“Want you inside.” You whisper.

“That’s a good girl, now turn around f’me.” He instructs, loosening his hold on you so that you could turn around. Once you do you bring yourself back up to his lap, kneeling on both sides of him with your hands on his shoulders. Keeping one arm around your waist, Harry brings the other down to line himself up with your entrance. He then begins to slowly guide you down onto him, and as you do, both you and Harry sink your teeth into your lower lips and let out a string of small moans. This was the closest you two had been in good little while. Plus you liked the feeling of him filling you up. “Feelin’ better sweets?” Harry asks once you’ve taken all of him inside.

“Nice and relaxed.” You hum in response, lowering your head into the crook of his neck and relaxing your body in his lap.

Masterlist

#Harry Styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #my harry writing #older!harry #concepts of h #harrywritingsbyme

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lihikainanea · 3 years

Note

i’m shy and get embarrassed easily, so i have NEVER SAID WHAT IVE WANTED but i can’t hold back anymore, I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I WANT. actually, it’s not a want, it’s a need.

i need a really sub tiger (whimpering, spaced out look, needy, sucking on his fingers, etc) and daddy bill. sweet nani. TIGER call him daddy. i need big protector and provider vibes from bill.

also, i’ve read every single one of your posts ATLEAST 15 times. this page right here, feels like a safe space.

much love

ohhhhhhhh thank you bb! I love messages like this <3 I'm glad you submitted an ask, that's a big step--I'm proud of you, boo. This space is open and safe for everyone, it's all I've ever wanted to create, so to hear you say it--to know that you felt comfortable submitting an ask--bubs, that makes me so happy <3

I'm feelin soff and subby tiger these days. Not only because of this deadly heatwave that has been sweeping the entire fucking continent, not only because work has been hell on earth, not only because I'm finally on vacation next week after not taking time off for a year and I feel like I'm crawling towards the finish line, bruised and battered, on all fours pleading for mercy.

Oh wait, that's exactly why I'm feeling soff and subby tiger these days, so small and where she can just disappear into her bubble of safety and just know that she'll be taken care of.

If you’ll allow me to self-project for awhile, as I’m wont to do rather frequently--maybe tiger has had to be Boss Bitch for awhile. She’s not having a hard time at work--no no, quite the opposite actually. She’s killing it. Stepping up when she has to, working long hours. Maybe her boss quit all of a sudden (hello, self-projection again!) and tiger is just stepping in and getting shit done. And ike a Queen, that ‘tude is bleeding into other aspects of life. Bill has a wonky shelf that needs fixing and while he’s usually quick to fix those things, it’s lagging and tiger just thinks--fuck it, and fuck you too. Bill comes home and she’s power drilling the thing back in place. Changing the light bulbs. Replacing the battery in her smoke alarm. Doing all the groceries. Cooking. Working late into the night. Picking up his dry cleaning. Her friend is going through a bad break up--tiger is there, packing her shit up with her, finding her a new apartment.

Tiger can sometimes be a bit of a procrastinator--which Bill likes, because then he gets to step in and do things for her and he loves the smile she gives him when he does that--but lately? Bill can’t get there fast enough. Tiger is handling it all, knocking it out of the park, and making it look easy.

The problem is she also kind of works herself into a tizzy--because tiger doesn’t like having too much control. She can absolutely do everything herself, but part of what she enjoys so much in her dynamic with Bill is that she doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to be in control, or have all the power. She can give that to him, and she can just float in that place free from all burdens and responsibility and know that she’ll be taken care of. There’s an immense power in relinquishing control. And like everything, tiger swings violently from one extreme to the other--she has all of the control, she’s handling shit, she’s handling shit like a boss--until she gets real small, because she doesn’t WANT to handle this much, she doesn’t want to be the boss bitch anymore, she needs a balance where she can be ballsy and courageous in her professional life but that balance comes from being able to be subby with Bill, being able to be put on her knees and be his good girl.

Yin and yang.

And Bill senses it. He probably knows by the crazy twitch in her eye, her subtle irritability, the way a problem no sooner arises that tiger is throwing some power tool, some 7-step coaching programme, some advice from years of therapy--just something at it. Bill barely has time to mention that something in the house needs fixing, let alone fix it himself--because tiger is all over it and then some.

Bill knows the pendulum is swinging just a leeeeeeeetle too far one way.

And maybe the next day when tiger gets in from work--she has a list of shit she needs to get done tonight, and she’s still tapping away more on her phone: bake brownies for a work potluck, fix the chain on the toilet, scrub the bath tub, build the IKEA shoe cabinet she bought, give Bill head because it’s been awhile, put the final tweaks on a presentation. And her nose is in her phone when she walks in the door, so she doesn’t see Bill standing there in the hallway--doesn’t see the way he has his arms crossed, the authoritative set to his jaw, his pinched eyebrows.

“Hiiiiiii,” she calls out blindly down the hallway as she toes off her shoes, drops her purse on the floor.

Bill doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still on her phone, her thumbs going a mile a minute.

“Did you get the drill bits I need?” she’s still yelling because she hasn’t seen him yet, “That fucking IKEA cabinet Allan key bullshit won’t--oof.”

She walks right into his chest, stumbling back a step or two as she startles. And then she notices--notices how tall he’s standing, notices the set in his eyes, his clenched jaw. His crossed arms.

“Hi,” he says simply, lowly.

“Hi,” she stammers, “I uh, didn’t see you there.”

“I know,” he says--and then he reaches out, takes her phone from her hands. He puts it in his back pocket and crosses his arms again.

“On your knees,” he says.

“Why?” she mumbles it before she can stop, and it’s just automatic when she’s been like this--question everything, oppose everything, demand answers. But Bill just cocks his eyebrow, bends a little at the waist and gets his face in close to hers.

“You don’t get to ask questions tonight,” he whispers, and it’s soft but deliciously menacing and threatening. Tiger bites her lip, and she’s so mesmerized by him, already so turned on, that she’s rooted to the spot and she doesn’t move.

“Tiger,” he says harshly, “I won’t repeat myself.”

“Oh,” she snaps to her senses, shaking the fog from her brain. She drops to her knees. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

“Do you like all of this, tiger?” he weaves a hand in her hair, gently tugging it so her eyes are on him, “All of this control? All of this power?”

“I don’t know.”

“Try again,” he says, “All of this responsibility, fighting everybody’s battles. Taking care of everyone else--but who is taking care of you, hmm? Who’s taking care of my sweet girl?”

And her walls are starting to come down, that pendulum is starting to swing back ever so slowly in the natural direction.

“I am,” her voice cracks, and she says it so lowly he barely heard it.

“What’s that?”

“I am,” she says again, just a twinge louder but even then it’s barely a whisper.

“You are,” he says, “Just handling everything like a big girl. And do you like that? Not letting me take care of you? Not needing me?”

“No,” she admits.

“And is that part of our deal?”

“No,” she says again, leaning forward and bunching his pant leg in her fist. She just wants to touch him, wants to be close to him, and Bill would never stop her from doing so in moments like these. He presses his thumb to her lips, easing it inside. She sighs and her shoulders sag with relief.

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t we?” he asks, “I miss my sweet girl.”

She whimpers around his thumb, inching on her knees closer to him and resting her forehead on his thigh.

“Do you want me to fix it sweet girl?” he murmurs, “Get you back right again?”

She nods, but he snaps his fingers and he swears that she moaned a little.

“Yes,” she says immediately, “Please, Bill.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that,” he says, and he withdraws his thumb from her mouth, closing his hands around her shoulders and lifting her so she’s standing in front of him, “I think I need to hear that a little more.”

She whines, but he slams his lips to hers. He kisses the hell out of her, all tongues and teeth, pulling away as she gasps for breath.

“If you want me to fix it kid,” he purrs, “Then you’re going to beg for it.”

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill #sub tiger

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comradekatara · 3 years

Note

ik this is an atla blog but... could we hear some of ur izumi headcanons? (perhaps a sprinkle of izumi x kya if ur feelin generous)

been sittin on this ask since april (sorry!!!) bc i wanted to give this question the attention it deserved (and also there are just. a lot of asks in the inbox to get thru. oof). also yess i’m glad someone else is as fascinated by the potential of kya/izumi dyke drama as i am. fwiw, all of this is canon-compliant with what we know (so far) from lok. some of these have already been said, but it never hurts to rehash deep lore...

izumi is found in a dumpster. when it becomes apparent to zuko that whoever left her there isn’t coming back for her, he decides to take her to a local orphanage. he’s halfway there by the time he has already become irrevocably attached to this quiet, curious, perfect baby and is like “okay my baby now” and takes her home.

when katara gets a postscript at the bottom of a letter from zuko that simply says “oh by the way i have a daughter now” katara doesn’t even respond to the pages upon pages he wrote about import taxes and all that boring shit. zuko merely receives one page in response and all it says is “YOU HAD SEX???? WITH A WOMAN????”

zuko refuses to tell katara the truth. her version is better.

izumi is raised by the firelord and a small army of lesbians. zuko has to stop his friends from trying to give her knives all the time. yes, knives used to be a very loving gift during the war, but he’s trying to teach her about nonviolence goddammit!!!

she never has a crisis of sexuality or feels any pressure to like boys. she’s a lesbian and she knows it. everyone but suki is secretly baffled by how well-adjusted this child is. (suki doesn’t get the big deal.)

izumi knows that she is the crown princess, and that this means that she is going to be firelord someday. zuko always told her that being firelord is about being able to use their nation’s resources to help as many people as possible, and since two of izumi’s favorite things are puzzles and helping people, she is really looking forward to being firelord.

her other favorite thing is reading, which zuko obviously encourages but also finds quite strange because he always assumed reading was an activity solely pursued by sadder, lonelier children.

because she often gets so engrossed in her books that she accidentally stays up all night reading in the dark, zuko gets in the habit of placing extra-long candles in her room that will burn all night so she doesn’t have to strain her eyes. as she gets older and starts spending more time in the library, she winds up just carrying a sack full of zuko’s candles around just in case. it quickly becomes a family joke--if you end up in a dark room, better find izumi.

she winds up wearing glasses by the age of six. zuko is very worried about what this means for her future until izumi points out that her favorite people are visually impaired and they’re doing just fine.

she really likes toph, but thinks her kids are super weird. one of them is very regimented and disciplined in a way she cannot vibe with, and the other is very self-absorbed and theatrical. whenever toph brings lin and su around the palace, izumi ends up hanging out with toph instead.

one of izumi’s favorite pastimes is sokkawatching, which is like birdwatching, but instead of birds, she is studying sokka. she shadows him around all day and takes notes on what it is he is doing. she will hide behind curtains during meetings or walk just far enough behind him that he can’t see her. eventually sokka asks izumi if she would just like to, um, hang out?? but she gets so upset that he is now onto her that zuko has to intervene and convince her that sokka has no idea what he’s talking about, and that she is a master of espionage. since her cover has been blown, she needs a new mark, and starts following mai around instead.

when izumi is eight years old, her great-uncle iroh takes her and her aunt azula to ember island to see a show. izumi has quite a mature appreciation for theater for an eight-year-old—she reads plays, as any child of her father surely would, and has been known to enjoy live performances in the capital—but she fucking hates this play. she squirms in her seat until azula would look monstrous if she didn't take her to the restroom, and there the two of them remain until the curtain call. when it's over, iroh is quite convinced that the two of them concocted that little scheme together… and he's exactly right.

izumi starts attending meetings when she is eleven, and she constantly interrupts to ask questions. if anyone is bothered by this they wouldn’t dare let zuko know. all her questions are so smart and incisive anyway that very few people can find it in them to be annoyed when they are far too busy being impressed.

some monarchs might have felt a bit alarmed, and perhaps unnerved by thoughts of their own mortality, if their daughter applied herself to studying the work of running a country at as young of an age and with as much alacrity as izumi does. zuko, on the other hand, has been hating his job and showing it since 101 AG. izumi suspects the duties of the firelord aren't nearly as bad as all that, but her father is sensitive, and was forced into the role at a particularly difficult time. for her, studying how to run the country that her father has so carefully reformed so that she can step into the role as early as possible is a generous gift.

because izumi is the crown princess, there is little chance of her making it to adulthood without navigating a few awkward encounters with boys who hope to woo her. zuko is too saddened by the idea to know how to begin to prepare her for it. but as it turns out, izumi doesn’t need that from him. starting around the age of 12, she observes that many of the staff around the palace tend to read a lot of old-fashioned romance novels. seeking to better understand the entertainment choices of the women with whom she spends most of her time, izumi selects a handful of books from that genre to read for herself. she finds story after story about young, attractive members of the royal court finding love with unlikely suitors and suitresses. though these books aren’t to her taste at all, she understands the appeal and makes the logical connection that this type of story is viewed as a sort of script—the most sensational path a princess could possibly take. she practices saying variations of "no thank you" in her bedroom mirror until she settles on a polite enough tone that even the most earnest suitor couldn't possibly take issue with it, and that's that.

izumi starts demanding more homework. this ultimately means more work for sokka, who has to create an entirely new curriculum designed just for her, and then has to sit there while she does her homework in case she has any questions. and then, once she’s done, they go over it together and even if she gets everything right she forces him to point out areas in which she could have improved. suddenly sokka longs for the days that katara (and later toph) would yell at him that math is stupid and they shouldn’t have to learn it because they can bend. how foolish he had been at the time… he should have savored that…

izumi's first crush is on mai. it's humiliating, since she's well aware that mai has been playing with her since she was in diapers (and even faintly aware that mai and zuko had some sort of ambiguous summer fling as teenagers that they are now too embarrassed to talk about), but for a short stretch of time between the age of twelve and thirteen, suddenly izumi sees her old family friend in a new and magical light. and during that same stretch of time, she faintly hates ty lee. this confusing intrusion of unwanted feelings leads to a humiliating moment that is best described as izumi's first tantrum. when she is invited to join the adults at a casual dinner, izumi dashes for the seat as far from her object of her affections as possible, and when ty lee teases, "what? do we smell?" izumi blushes and buries her face in her water. she doesn't look up from her plate until mai asks her (repeatedly, as it seems izumi didn't hear her) to pass the dumplings. at this point, izumi doesn't know what else to do but to shove the entire remaining portion of dumplings into her mouth all at once and then flee the room. so she does.

in the morning, she is mortified and apologizes to everyone for her poor conduct. mai and ty lee are nothing but understanding, and mai jokes that now she knows where zuko got his table manners. ty lee adds that izumi was going to have to do something immature at some point, or else no one was gonna believe she was human. the two of them leave court a few days later, and by the time they visit again a few months after that, izumi is relieved to find that her crush has faded away.

the first time izumi meets katara, she feels as if she is meeting a celebrity. since katara never comes to the fire nation if she can help it, their paths have yet to cross, but izumi has heard of her, as if she is this mythic creature, through many, many stories, each more outrageous than the last. izumi does not think that meeting katara will prove a particularly long encounter, since katara couldn’t possibly have the time of day for her. she is quickly proven wrong, since katara cooks her dinner herself and keeps piling more and more food onto her plate. izumi is too well-mannered to inform katara that she is full, and katara keeps insisting that she doesn’t eat enough. izumi has no idea how katara could possibly come to that conclusion, since they have known each other all of one hour, but according to katara, izumi must eat more.

other than trying to feed izumi every three seconds, katara is surprisingly normal. izumi had assumed she was some sort of terrifying goddess by the way people talk about her. she’s very warm and nurturing and personable and has no filter whatsoever. in fire nation meetings, everyone speaks formally as a sign of respect, but in the southern water tribe, apparently it’s considered rude if you’re not completely candid. at first, izumi is horrified by how freely people insult each other, but then she quickly becomes delighted by the fact that bluntness is considered a virtue, and formality, passive-aggression. everyone refers to each other by first name, no title, and they’re all like one big family. people still treat katara with reverence despite this, even though she makes it pretty clear that she’s tired of being hero-worshipped.

one of the most delightful qualities that izumi admires in katara is her ability to memorize, recite, and hunt down gossip. izumi is introverted and polite and would never dream of asking brazen questions like whether haru has finally seen sense and shaved that beast on his lip or whether toph is "still getting her story straight" about where her daughters came from. (as far as izumi knows, toph has only ever told just the one, tongue-in-cheek story: she made the girls herself out of clay and she'll earthbend them back into dust if they don't behave.) but izumi is awed by katara's willingness to just ask these kinds of questions and she decides to take a lesson from this approach. being direct doesn't hurt anyone when katara does it, and it's a skill that will eventually serve izumi very well as firelord.

the south pole is also where izumi first meets kya. to kya, who is being taught two very conflicting ideas of what the fire nation represents, meeting izumi firmly solidifies her in the “the fire nation is nice and progressive” camp. that said, she also knows that her mom would disapprove if she and izumi got involved… which only makes izumi all the more enticing, naturally.

katara teaches izumi about what she considers to be the core tenets of her culture: “communal living, versatility & resourcefulness, democracy, and looking cute on a budget.”

izumi returns to the fire nation convinced that the southern water tribe is the coolest place in the entire world (and not just literally). sokka is so incredibly proud.

and, by the second time she visits katara, izumi is far more comfortable with going penguin sledding.

izumi attempts to go through a phase of teenage rebellion when she is fifteen, but zuko puts an end to it by encouraging her. he’s like “fuck yeah be gay do crimes.” learning that her dad was once a baleful vigilante/highwayman immediately quells her desire for antics & tomfoolery.

...well. most antics, anyway. a few weeks before izumi's second visit to the south pole, kya sends izumi a letter that includes an illustration of a particular type of plant that grows in the fire nation palace garden and a request that she bring a clipping back with her next time. apart from the produce garden where they grow fresh fruit and vegetables for the palace, the palace garden is considered the domain of suki and her friends, so izumi naively enlists suki to help her to find it. suki smirks to herself as she directs izumi to the right place and helps her cut a generous clipping of it. and that's the story of how, on izumi's second visit to the south pole, kya introduces her to the joys of recreational weed: a secret hobby the two of them will indulge in together all their lives, whenever they happen to see each other.

(though this, too, becomes a little less cool and a little less sexy when, one night back in the fire nation, izumi steps out onto her balcony and sees her father, her aunt, toph, sokka, and suki all smoking weed in the courtyard below.)

by the time kya is seventeen, she has petitioned katara that she ought to go travel the world on her own, since she’s the daughter of a nomad and a swashbuckling heroine, so it’s only right. katara finally relents. kya basically just makes a round tour of all the lesbian hotspots across the globe, from visiting her favorite auntie toph, to living it up on kyoshi island, to the fire palace, with a certain princess in mind.

katara keeps insisting to kya that no, she’s not a homophobe, she just disapproves of monarchs! so as a test kya brings the most heinous girl she knows (who isn’t su, that is) over for dinner, and katara has to be extremely gracious the entire time. after she leaves she says to kya “wow....... I love her :’)”

kya and izumi share an intellectual bent, an appreciation for music, and a desire to see the world. they also share their first kiss. izumi breathlessly expresses her surprise that smart, worldly kya hasn't been there before with one of the boys or girls at the south pole, but kya waves a hand and says that no one there is cool enough for her. when kya asks why izumi hasn't kissed anyone before, izumi just quips that books don't have lips as soft as kya's.

they have a whole "together-when-we're-in-the-same-place; single-when-we're-not" thing going on for a while, but izumi really loves to write love letters, and before they know what's happened, they're monogamous and living on opposite sides of the world. oops!

they are very much in love. they are also fully aware that their relationship has an expiration date, and it is the second izumi becomes firelord. kya may be reluctant to admit it, but her mom was right: being involved with the firelord…. well it’s a bad look. she comes from a long line of anti-imperialist revolutionaries. she can’t exactly settle down with a monarch. izumi, having been raised by zuko, is about as anti-monarchy as a monarch possibly can be, so she understands completely. they both agree that their duties come first, and when they do break up, it will be amicable and mutual. their last days spent together while still technically a couple are bittersweet.

izumi’s coronation mostly involves all of zuko’s old friends taking turns squishing her cheeks (even though she is an adult, and also the firelord now) and tearfully regaling her with anecdotes from her childhood, which she remembers perfectly well because she was there. she very graciously hugs and thanks all of them for forging a path to peace, promising to make them proud. they all assure her they already are.

she and kya break up that night, by the turtleduck pond. it is a quiet, poignant goodbye.

the following week, kya immediately travels to the north pole to rebound with the most repressed lesbian she can find. she thinks it’s only fitting.

izumi has a lot more freedom as firelord than zuko ever did, in large part due to the fact that no one ever thinks to question her legitimacy. she has a very commanding presence, always giving off the vibe that she is the most intelligent person in the room (whereas, of course, zuko gives off the vibe that he is just a little boy who loves arson… well into adulthood).

izumi thinks in lists, much like sokka and her aunt azula; unlike most people she knows, her favorite historical avatar is not kyoshi or even yangchen, but szeto, but it’s for good reason. she groups like things into categories and she groups tasks into mental to-do lists which are of course completely different from the to-do lists she does need to write down. this will serve her well as she will eventually go down in history as one of the firelords with the most documentation on her life and the lives of her allies—which is of course part of the point. so of course, she's also strategic about what she doesn't write down: the sexualities of the family friends one generation above her; the quiet trade agreement between the fire nation and the water tribes that favors the water tribes just enough that it would be a whole thing if certain loud fire nation citizens got word of it; and the story of the one time she kissed lin beifong.

izumi’s personal pet project is the implementation of countless public libraries across the country, which also double as shelters. the same way that zuko had a reputation as being the firelord who really revitalized theatre, izumi has a reputation for being horny4libraries, and she’s proud of that reputation, dammit.

one day, for seemingly no reason, sokka decides that he is simply too old to be micromanaging royalty. it was cool and funny and, well, necessary when he was 16, but now he really does have better things to be doing with his time. this doesn’t stop izumi from wheedling him for diplomatic advice, because she refuses to part with such a valuable asset, so instead sokka agrees to play her in pai sho whenever she “needs it.” she always knows exactly how to solve her problem immediately after a game’s conclusion. zuko doesn’t understand how that works at all, but azula’s like “lol classic sokka.”

toph takes izumi on a life-changing field trip to go look at bugs in the woods, and all the headlines that week read variations on “NOTORIOUS EARTHBENDING ANARCHIST KIDNAPS FIRELORD, HOLDS HER HOSTAGE IN A FOREST.” neither of them are aware of the political scandal they’ve caused because they were too busy studying cool bugs.

as izumi approaches 50, she decides to treat herself to a birthday gift that becomes her pride and joy: a top-of-the-line future industries motorcycle. her father may choose to travel the world in style on druk, but izumi's tastes run more toward ground transportation (which is to say: she gets violently airsick, and seasick, too). of course, she can only really ride it anywhere if she's prepared to either travel with a motorcade or sneak out past her guards and keep her face hidden the whole time she's out. the former cramps her style and limits her speed, so she chooses the latter. she generally takes it short distances, just far to get some air, but on one memorable occasion when lin beifong is visiting ember island, she takes it all the way through the mountains and down to the beach just to see the look on that crabby old cop's face.

izumi names her son after her beloved late grunkle… mostly because it was the only way to satisfy sokka, who insisted that since, decades ago, he won a bet against zuko to someday name his grandchild, it was only fair that he get naming rights. zuko, at the time having assumed that he would never have grandchildren, was like “yeah okay whatever,” but sokka never forgot. as if he would ever pass up the opportunity to publicly embarrass the fire nation royal family! but he had to admit that iroh was a pretty good name. almost as good as Sokkaruleszukodrools, which unfortunately and unjustly got passed over.

izumi always loved aang, and found meditating with him to be really clarifying. it's only natural that his death breaks her heart. but it's in her nature to come up with a productive outlet for any emotion she feels, even grief, and that holds true in this case. she is walking through the library on air temple island when it hits her: there ought to be an "official" biography of avatar aang and his life, dictated by his friends. though her initial idea was to hire one of her many respected writer friends for the job, kya and tenzin insist that it'll only be worth anything if izumi writes it. so she does. a biography of the avatar, written by the firelord. friendships last more than one lifetime after all.

izumi is, of course, aware of the new avatar from the moment she's born. the notes she has on korra fill an entire cabinet of scrolls and notebooks (as any of her advisors knows, her choice of paper just depends on how fancy she's feeling). korra is nearly sixteen by the time she's ready to learn firebending, and izumi personally sends the ship that will pick her up and take her to the fire nation. since she has not met korra before and doesn't know her tastes, izumi makes sure the ship is fully stocked with plenty of soft, comfortable clothing in all colors and sizes, all meant to be reasonably modest while still suitable for the warm weather korra will run into on the journey. so izumi is understandably surprised when she meets the ship at the docks and finds korra in a jaggedly sewn scarlet crop top that she clearly tailored herself. korra blushes and explains that she's never experienced warm weather before and got a bit overzealous. they laugh about it, and izumi orders a whole closetload of more teenage-friendly clothing to be delivered to korra's quarters.

zuko dies peacefully, in his sleep, at an old and happy age, but that doesn’t mean his death doesn’t affect izumi. she immediately takes time off to crash at the south pole with katara and kya, and they spend the next few weeks just sitting by the fire, swapping stories about their respective adventures, and having a lovely (albeit extremely tearful) time. izumi then goes to visit toph and suki in the earth kingdom, who are both apparently chilling in different parts of the same vast swamp. they teach her about how everything in the swamp is connected, that separation and time and death are all illusions. finally, the last leg of her trip is spent on ember island, where she sits by the beach, staring at the moon’s silver reflection on the black sea, and once more feels at peace.

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onestowatch · 3 years

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Your Grandparents Manifest a Cinematic, Soulful Debut Album With ‘Thru My Window’ [Q&A]

Photo: Jordan Perez

Inspired by everything from ‘90s boom bap artists like Digable Planets and the Pharcyde to modern funk legends like Outkast and D'Angelo, Your Grandparents have quickly proven themselves to be their generations' torchbearers for the psychedelic soul movement.

Using a variety of recording techniques to get the desired effect for their genre-blending debut album Thru My Window, the group credits their uniquely cohesive sound to their years-long friendship, which began in their early teens. With their lush grooves, breezy, clear vocals, a sonic aesthetic built on unwavering authenticity, and of course, a deep love for their roots and deep musical traditions passed down from their grandparents, Your Grandparents embodies what it means to be an artist to watch.

Ones To Watch had a chance to talk with the trio, comprised of DaCosta (vocals), Jean Carter (vocals), and Cole, aka ghettoblasterman (producer), to discuss their inspirations and the long days and nights that went into creating their debut album.

When you last spoke to Ones To Watch, it was for the release of your single "So Damn Fly," and now, a year later, here we are talking about the release of your debut album, Thru My Window. How are you all feeling, and what have you learned about yourselves in this last year through the album-making process?

DaCosta: From a personal outlook, I've learned that making music is heavily dependent on my mood, or just how I'm feeling and what's going on in my personal life. When things are a little too stagnant, it's a little harder to write. On the other hand, when things are flowing, and life is being lived, it's easy fuel. It's good fuel. It doesn't burn too quickly.

GBM: I've learned that no idea is too wild. It's usually less wild than I think it is.

Jean: Yeah, it's better to start at the extreme and take away. I realized I feel like a lot of artists feel like they have to put themselves through turmoil or allow certain situations to write meaningful things. Like it's not necessarily good music, but it's something that means a lot to them. I think I realized that that's not the case and inspiration comes in many different forms. It could be a person or something completely random and inanimate that makes you feel something.

What were some of those inspirations?

Jean: Definitely films.

GBM: A lot of films!

Jean: Yeah, we're all pretty big film people. We do all our own videos pretty much, and it just comes from this love of film that we've had that got nurtured in high school. We were blessed enough to have a really dope film program that Sony funded and stuff, and so we got like an impromptu film education before we graduated. So by the time we graduated, we knew how to get our own projects done without reaching out to someone else and then taxing us because they want to hire their friends and all that stuff. So because of that, we had complete creative control. I've also been watching a lot of Korean movies lately. Not during the album—wait, actually, during the album, there were a lot of old kung fu movies and blaxploitation movies from, like, the ‘70s. Also, my friend got me this Curtis Mayfield record, and "So Damn Fly" is definitely heavily influenced by that whole record.

GBM: I feel like the ‘70s in general, the ‘60s and ‘70s, definitely had a big inspiration on the aesthetic and the kind of sound we were going after. Especially with "So Damn Fly" and "Tomorrow" and those kinds of songs.

Do you feel like this album has a linear story the same way a film does, or do you feel like it's more of an anthology of the band's personal experiences?

GBM: It's kind of a mix of both.

Jean: Yeah, it started off as an anthology, and then we pieced together the story, which was largely done by Cole by sitting there and being like, “Hmmm.”

DaCosta: Yeah, it was a lot of Cole dissecting the words and putting them on the tracks.

Jean: When we're writing the words and trying to be free-flowing and expressive and stuff, we're not fully conscious of a bigger picture situation. Instead, Cole is sitting there producing everything and putting in the music and being just more of a listener than anyone else could. So he has the context, and he could find a story that we didn't know we were doing together with our three minds and in our three different lives.

GBM: It's like a puzzle almost, because I'll be sitting there at like 2 a.m. in my bed, listening to the songs, and I'm like, "Ok, Kyle said, that in the hook, so this song has to go before that," and so on and so forth. It's like a storyboard kinda.

Right, to keep the record's "plot" cohesive and self-referential.

GBM: Another big consideration was playlists. I love making playlists, and I know Kyle loves making playlists, too, so it needed to flow. It just has to flow. We didn't want songs that juxtapose each other or have opposite vibes be back to back.

DaCosta: Yeah, I think we even switched around the playlist a couple of times before we had it set in stone.

GBM: There were like fourteen songs originally, and then we got talked down to ten.

Jean: Fourteen tracks woulda went crazy!

I'm sure fans would love a deluxe version of the album at some point! So what were some of the rough draft ideas before you set these ten tracks in stone?

Jean: There were more modern-sounding tracks. The more time we spent on a project, and this being our debut, we wanted to be true to the name. We wanted to be true to the artistry that had gotten us to this point.

DaCosta: There were a couple of heavier hip-hop tracks there too.

Jean: We had been doing that, and a lot of people haven't even heard those because they're like heavy hip-hop stuff from when we were in high school and like early college.

Were there any tracks on the record that challenged you?

Jean: "Intoxicated" challenged me. I had a whole different verse. The conception of that song—I was just venting about whatever I was going through at the time, and one of my homies was like, "It's not sexy enough!" So I was just like, "What? No! I've done sexy stuff on all the other songs. Just let me vent!" So I tried another verse, and we ended up going with that one instead.

DaCosta: I mean, it worked out great though...

Jean: I mean, yeah, it sits nicely on the song, and now I have a verse for something else one day when it's time for it.

GBM: Yeah, that song went from being all of ours and everyone on our team's favorite song to our least favorite song. I will say that recording the instruments for the album was fun, but there were definitely some long hours. We had a drummer and bassist come through, and they played for like twelve hours straight doing all the songs. So the songs that have live drums on them were all done in that one day, and they even did songs we recorded that didn't make it on the final record. I think we started at 1 p.m. and we ended at 1 a.m. It was crazy.

What song are you most excited for people to hear when the album drops?

Jean: I think people are gonna like "Comfortable" a lot. Honestly, I haven't listened to the record in a while because it's existed in our world for a minute. We had just posted the visuals for that song today, and I was feelin it.

DaCosta: I think people are gonna really like "Digest." For me, it gives me that "it" factor.

GBM: I think "Red Room." It's my personal favorite and one of the more fun ones to me. It's just a good time!

youtube

You mentioned earlier that you try to maintain creative control when making your music videos and coming up with concepts for visualizers. What is your creative process like?

DaCosta: We definitely sit down, and we go through everything from storyboard to shotlist and just take and grab inspiration from all over the place. For "So Damn Fly," there was that That 70's Show shot where they're all sitting around the table, and it's spinning. So there are all types of really cool influences, and we just try to use those and make everything unique to us.

GBM: I think we kind of go through a three-step verification. The idea has to go through all three of us before it becomes something else or moves on to actually being tested out or put into picture. So that kind of attributes to the very solid identity we aim for.

It sounds like that impromptu film education you mentioned earlier has really set you up for success in creating your videos.

Jean: Yeah. My high school film teacher, Miss Butler, I took that class for two years, and then when I couldn't take it anymore, I became a TA. So then I took the after-school class, and I just spent hella hours pretty much ruining the way I enjoyed cinema and teaching myself like—she would have us look and watch these classic movies and be like, this is what they did wrong.

Can you give me an example of a classic film you would watch and critique?

Jean: The first one that comes to mind is Rear Window. I watched it a few times, just because I had taken the class a couple of times. She talked about how the set that they made and the world that they created, they had full control over. Just seeing older films and how simple things were a lot more complicated then. Like you can't just delete a take and wipe your card. Everything had to be so planned out and so intentional. You gotta do shit on purpose. It's just a lot of thinking and planning, and sometimes, I feel like it's more challenging to have more people involved in a film production sometimes because of the growing degrees of communication. With the small groups that we usually keep, everyone's on the same page as us. All of us took this same class, so we all have a similar workflow.

DaCosta: Yeah, our organization when it comes to films, we're all pretty much on the same page. You know, with what was going to happen, who's doing what, who's in charge of what, etc.

Jean: And pre-production is the biggest thing and finding the right team because we can't shoot it and be in it. Although Cole can somehow!

GBM: I'm in one scene, and I'm like, "I'm just gonna kill this scene right now, and then I'm gonna jump back." That's why I'm only in the last scene.

Because he's doing everything else!

Jean: Yeah! Then as soon as the scene cuts, it's like, I go back to directing people, and Kyle goes back to making sure we got the next shot set up.

GBM: There were only seven people on set.

DaCosta: And four out of seven were crew members

GBM: Yeah, the DP was the only person that wasn't actually a casted character. Everybody else is like multitasking.

You'll be making your first-ever festival appearance at Day N Vegas in November. How are y'all feeling about it?

GBM: It feels incredible!

DaCosta: I'm so so excited!

Jean: If I get excited, I get nervous. So I just aim to be focused, or I don't think about it at all.

After the release of Thru My Window, what are some long-term or short-term goals y'all are manifesting?

Jean: I think for the next album, I want it to get Best Rap Album. We went R&B on this one, but nobody knows the way that we—like yes, we rap on it, but nobody knows our actual rap potential. So I feel like that's something that needs to be lived out on the next project. It's been a minute since we were rapping, bro. There are cool people out here doing the rap thing right now, but not many people have impressed me.

GBM: I kind of want this album to open up the door to doing a lot of travel. When we got back from Paris in 2019, what we experienced during that summer gave us fuel to start this project. So I feel like if we just keep that kind of like tradition going, we just travel somewhere and just make stuff, I think it'll never get steered wrong.

DaCosta: I think I want the album to just open up doors in general. I know it's kind of a broad thing, but like, we're so diverse, and between the three of us, we can do literally anything I think in the world if we put our minds to it, and we kind of plan on doing everything that we want to do. So, I kind of want this album to open the door just so that we can you can start striding towards whatever, whether it's directing movies and videos and fucking scoring—

Jean: Or directing other people's videos!

DaCosta: Yeah, all types of shit.

Thru My Window is available everywhere you can stream it.

#your grandparents #album review #interview #thru my window

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writingawaymylife · 4 years

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Dance Around - Jump Forward Part III

A/N: Had a pretty long message here but thought I’d just cut it down to what it was but shorter haha - this is really long, but you get to see more Higgs! Also, I hope you enjoy this, and thank you so much to everyone that’s read this far! Thank you for your patience!

Part I - Part II

Ship: Higgs/Reader

Warning: Swears, childhood trauma (not anything graphic but related to abuse, I’ll never put detail into those aspects, and there will always be a warning if so, just incase you were wondering), Higgs

Word count: 6245 or 12 pages...

________________

“Why the fuck do you always have to scare the shit out of me, Stalker.” (Y/N) was at the front door of their bunker, porter suit unzipped and chest armor half across the room from throwing it at the asshole in front of them.

Higgs, after a split moment of surprised, gained back his composure with a chuckle low in his throat as he looked (Y/N) up and down. A small smirk growing on his lips and a jokingly (or at least they hoped) hungry look shining in his eyes. He ignored their question, rather pushing himself from where he leaned on the counter and walking over to them.

“Ya’ know, I think this is the first time I’ve seen your body outta baggy clothing.” (Y/N) glared at him as he gestured up and down. “You should wear tighter clothing more often.” His smirk grew as (Y/N) stripped out of the suit and tossed it onto the bench beside them.

“Better be careful there, one second you’re enjoying your eyesight, the next you can’t see shit.” (Y/N) walked past him, and let a low growl rumble from their throat at a whistle most certainly directed at their backside. It was astonishing how well he was able to get under their skin.

“Just admirin’, Sweetcheeks, no need to get your panties in a twist.” He was far more flirty today than usual, and when they looked behind them, they realized that he also looked happier than he had in a while. Cloak off and slung over a chair by the island along with his masks, arms behind his back with a soft smile on his lips, and a relaxed sway to his steps. Which, because he never took his boots off, was slowly tracking Chiralium Tar all over the floors. He hadn’t taken his bullet proof vest, or his BB doll off, however. Though (Y/N) wasn’t surprised with that. He never took those off, even when he was just relaxing. It couldn’t have been comfortable. Not that (Y/N) cared or anything.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to stare to do it, asshole.” (Y/N) sighed, shaking their head as they walked into their kitchen and to their special cabinet. They were going to need a drink if they were going to deal with this today. “Also, take your fucking boots off! Tracking your shit all over the goddamn house...”

The glass was already waiting on the table, as it often was when they got home, and they were quick to pour a couple of fingers of alcohol into it.

“Think I’m good on that, Darlin’.” They could practically hear the smirk on his face and he continued to walk around the island and follow them. Their hand tightened on the glass till they were sure it was at the brink of shattering.

“Look, Higgs, I’m really not interested in people today, so if you would kindly fuck-” (Y/N) turned around, and stopped short when they saw that he was gone. What was left in his place was remnants of Chiral Matter, slowly disappearing. “Fuck. That was easier than usual.” They leaned against the counter and took a long sip of the burning liquid.

“Sweetheart.” He reappeared beside them, this time leaning against the counter with this chest pressing slightly against their shoulder, his arms crossed. His voice dripping with sarcasm as the word came out. They nearly jumped out of their skin. “You should really learn to be more civil. ‘Ya know how it is. Hard for people to like an asshole and all that.”

“Higgs, I swear on everything holy that I will beat the shit you of you! Read the fucking room!” They growled, slamming the cup onto the counter and glaring up at him. “I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now, I’ve had more than enough shit pulled on me today, and I really don’t think you want to push to see how far you can take this before I break my promise to never kill.”

His eyes had widened just slightly, and both of them seemed taken back by the outburst.

It took just a beat before he opened his mouth again and his composure was back. “It seems you’re pretty close if I say so myself, Darlin’”

“Oh, you little shit-”

“Alright, alright I’m done.” He let out a laugh, eyes crinkling as he shook his head and took a step back. His hands lifted up in surrender, and he gave a soft nod as his laughing ceased. “I won’t tease ‘ya anymore, cross my heart.” One hand dropped down to draw a cross on his heart, before both dropped with a swing as he took a few steps back and leaned against the island.

(Y/N) stared at him for a few seconds and didn’t say anything. Just grabbed their drink and moved to the couch, where they flopped down and leaned their head back.

“You sure you even have one, Fucktard?”

He snorted. “Most definitely not.”

“You know,” They started, taking a sip of their drink and allowing themselves to melt into the couch more. “I used to think I could never hate anyone, but I think you have challenged that idea enough for me to change my mind.”

Higgs winked over at them, before he busied himself grabbing another glass and pouring himself some vodka. He always looked so comfortable in here, taking up space and moving around like he had been living here forever. It was odd, to say the least, but (Y/N) wasn’t outright surprised. Higgs was a man like no other, and taking up space and acting comfortable anywhere was his forte.

They used to be bothered by it, but, for some reason, they found themselves beginning to enjoy the company. Even if it wasn’t with the best of kinds. There were so many times when they would be alone. There was that time when they had a cat, but he had past a few years ago, and ever since it had felt so… empty.

Now, after having dealt with his antics for nearly a two years, him being here was just normal now. They would never admit it out loud, but it felt nice to have someone to share this space with, even if it was only briefly. Having someone physically there to talk to was a comfort that they never knew they had craved so much.

They were so stupid for going against everything they had been taught, everything they had taught themselves. But they really did like this guy.

“You keep believing that, Sweetcheeks. But I’ve gotta feelin’ that you might just love me.” He sat down beside them, hand draping over the couch as soon as (Y/N) lifted their head to look over at him, before rolling their eyes.

“Fucking gross.”

His voice still stuck in their memory. Ingrained in their soul and heart. It was often that it would play in their dreams. Teasing remarks and quips that never ceased to press the right buttons. He drove them through the roof. But in the end, they couldn’t stop themselves from feeling the safest when he was around. He held a power that most feared. It was chaotic and uncontrollable. He was a raging fire that would burn anything it touched - without hesitation or a shred of remorse.

He was terrifyingly beautiful. A piece of old art, worn through pain and time.

(Y/N) never felt like the fire would burn them. Never feared it would consume them like it did so many others before and after they met. And they were right, for a time. The fire only surrounded them. Creating a barrier that no one could break through. Protection that as fierce as it was remarkable.

They had never assumed that the fire would burn them. But it did, and left a nasty scar to prove it.

He had stained himself onto them. Permanently etched into their soul, and they couldn’t do anything to stop him from doing so.

(Y/N) had wondered if he knew that all along, if he knew that leaving would be one of the most painful and impactful experiences in their life. They wondered if he took pride in knowing that he would always have a place in their heart, that he could always come back and leave again and again, and the hole would never close. (Y/N) wondered if he had intended for that all along.

No matter how much he had hurt them, they couldn’t stop loving him and the fire that leaked from his chest into the world around him. Anger, pain, and resentment accumulating into an explosion that would make everyone pay for whatever he had suffered through.

They were always advised to not play with fire. But they were never told that there was one as captivating and beautiful as his.

Was it worth it? To run headfirst into the fire again?

Something was burning. That’s all (Y/N) knew. Black smoke hung in the air, mixed with a God awful smell of melting plastic. They couldn’t understand why it was smoky in the first place. Mind racing as they tried to think through every scenario from leaving the stove on (which was impossible with the new version, they had thought), to forgetting to blow out the candles that would lead to this much smoke.

They didn’t even stop to take off their boots or their suit. Bursting through the house as the smoke burned their eyes and lungs, so thick they couldn’t see their hand outstretched in front of them.

“What the fuck!?” They burst into the kitchen, covering their mouth with their hands in a futile attempt to keep the smoke from entering their lungs any further.

“Decided to take a scenic route?” A voice, strained from the smoke and from coughing, nearly wheezed out from across the kitchen. (Y/N) didn’t even have to guess to know who it was. “’Bout time you got here.”

It didn’t take long to see where the smoke was coming from. The open and nearly pitch black oven was stilling burning whatever had been in there.

“HIGGS! WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HOME!” (Y/N) practically dived into the middle of the kitchen, grabbing a kitchen cloth to cover their face.

“Before ‘ya ask, it’s just the oven.”

It had taken an hour to air out of the bunker and clean out the oven, all the while (Y/N) cussed Higgs out as he sat on the island, eating directly out of the carton of ice cream and chuckling all the while. He had a nearly proud grin on his face, nodding along and, worst of all, rating an insult whenever (Y/N) would say something particularly creative.

“CHAOS! That’s all you bring into this goddamn house! CHOAS! AND! RUIN!” (Y/N) was exasperated, metal wool roughly held in hand as they scrubbed as hard as they could on the oven. They weren’t in the mood to punch someone today, but they needed to get the anger out somehow if they were going to prevent that from happening.

“It was just a burnt pizza, Sweetcheeks.” He spoke between a mouthful of ice cream.

“EXACTLY! HOW does someone BURN a FROZEN PIZZA to CHARS! AND FORGET TO TAKE THE FUCKING PLASTIC OFF!” He snorted, looking down at the ice cream as he spooned out another bite. “You’re a menace. A complete and utter menace. Why the hell do I allow you into my house!?”

“Have you not realized yet, Darlin’? ‘Ya don’t. I just…” He waved his spoon around, a cocky little grin on his face. “Welcome myself in, eat your food, and leave.” He shrugged, shaking his head with that amused smile still on his face as he finished off the ice cream.

“Don’t forget “burrowing” my books, watching MY movies, and playing MY games on MY projector. Gotta love using people, right?” They hissed, scrubbing the last bit of burnt plastic out of the oven, before slowly getting up. They were so sore from today’s hauls. Sore, tired, and now very much royally pissed off.

“Not using,” He argued, tone light and casual. “Just enjoying, Sugar. ‘Ya never seemed bothered by it before, in fact, I think you might actually enjoy my company.” He sounded so arrogant, chest puffed and the southern lilt in his voice becoming just slightly more pronounced. (Y/N) let out a low growl before composing themselves.

“You listen here, Stalker-”

“Oh, here we go.” He set the carton on the counter beside him and leaned forward.

“The only time of ours I’ll be enjoying will be the day I get to throw you in a fucking incinerator!” (Y/N) threw the wool into the sink, and, with arms crossed and an exaggerated huff, looked him dead in the eye. “What do you think about that?”

His face dropped from the cocky smile, and he had the most unimpressed, bored expression they’d ever seen on his face. He rolled his eyes, turning to grab the ice cream again before giving a half-assed shrug.

“’ve heard better insults - prob’ly a three, maybe a four.” He scrapped the bottom of the carton, before getting off of the counter and tossing the, now-empty, carton into the trash and moving around (Y/N) to toss the spoon in the sink.

(Y/N) stayed silent, closing their eyes and trying to find the last speck of humanity they had left in them, as they slowly breathed in through their nose and out through their mouth.

He really did make it hard.

“How the hell did it even get so smokey in here? How did you not pass out?” When they opened their eyes, there looked to be the briefest of embarrassment written on his face. Hand rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks slightly pink. He cleared his throat.

“I had to leave for some business.” His hand moved from the back of his neck and made a slight brushing off gesture with a shrug.

“Business.”

“That’s what I said, Darlin’.”

“So you proceeded to put a pizza, with the plastic still on, in the oven-”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Leave the bunker for at least an hour or two without turning off the oven-”

“Correct.”

“And then proceeded to, I don’t know, wait in the fucking house till I came home?”

“Well, ‘ya see-”

“You lazy motherfucker.”

(Y/N) always wondered if he was bothered with how they had ended their friendship. Had it hurt him like it hurt (Y/N)? Was he able to sleep at night, knowing how their last conversation went?

It was easy to say (Y/N) had gotten out of it easy, that they were probably one of the few that could say they had a bad run-in with him and survived. In all honesty, they should have left it at that. They should be grateful to be breathing air, not hoping to see him again. It was so hard not to crave it, though. They wished they could talk with him, just one more time. To hear what he had to say. To hear why he did what he had.

The two had their ups of downs, something (Y/N) had to expect with a man like him, but they were happy. Even when they bantered and insulted each other, there was nothing malicious. There was nothing that should have led to that, not between them. Not when things were just beginning to get comfortable.

“I thought I felt DOOMs when I met you.” It was such a simply delivered comment. Casual, like the how you begin a conversation with a stranger about the weather or about how porter life is treating them. He scooted past (Y/N), chest, which had neither the BB doll or his bulletvest on, brushing against their back as he moved to the fridge.

(Y/N) cleared their throat, frowning as they continued to cut the carrots in front of them. “Don’t most people in our generations have DOOMs?” They peaked over their shoulder, huffing in annoyance when they saw he was eating their ice cream again. How that man stayed so toned and skinny, they would never know. “And you do know I’m cooking dinner, right? You don’t have to eat the fucking ice cream.”

Higgs ignored the second comment - continued to eat the ice cream as he moved to lean on the counter beside them.

“Not with your level.” He spoke after a mouthful of ice cream. Higgs seemed far more serious than he often was. Deep in thought as he played with the ice cream in the carton. “I haven’t met many people with your level. But, you don’t use ‘em. Why?”

(Y/N) sighed, going back to finishing with the carrots. They were silent for a moment, debating whether or not they should say anything, or just try and change the subject, before giving a slight nod. They waited until the carrots were in the stew, before finally giving him their attention.

(Y/N) moved to the island across from him and leaned against it. Arms crossed and one heel idly tapping the white tile flooring. Higgs, for the first time in a while, wasn’t wearing his boots, ankles crossed and black sock covered feet against the tile. It wasn’t the biggest of milestones in their relationship with him, but they felt a small amount of appreciation towards it. Progress, though slow and far between, was being made to housebreak him.

They finally broke the silence, voice slightly softer and quieter then it normally was with him. It took them a few seconds before they looked up and into his eyes.

“How did you find out?”

He glanced up from his ice cream then, taking another bite as he gauged their reactions. “I looked at your file.”

“And how did you find these files?” They probed, a tinge of frustration in their tone as their hands went and clasped the edge of the counter. They hated it when people beat around the bush.

“’m pretty good with a computer.” He shrugged.

“Okay, Higgs if you aren’t going to explain, than why the fuck did you bring it up-” He cut them off with an annoyed and muffled swear word, and a “shut up” that had their hands clenching the island tighter than they already were.

“I’ve been able to feel ‘em since I met you. Somethin’ I’ve been able to do with others, but never felt to your intensity. DOOMs practically ooze off of you. Usually that means you would be able to jump, or be able to do what I can do, but I haven’t seen you do anything like that once. Not even when you’ve been in danger.” He placed the carton beside him and jutted his chin out as if to push them to answer. “Why wouldn’t you use that power?”

(Y/N) didn’t even know where to begin. Just like Higgs, they weren’t one for… opening up to people. It was difficult. Terrifying. How do you open up to someone who will most likely eventually leave you?

Opening up to people was something they never thought they would have to do again. Not after last time. But they wanted to, for some odd reason, try with him. He felt safe, like he wouldn’t run away or turn his back. Maybe that was too much to expect from him. Maybe it was some false hope with the slow and steady realization that they missed connecting with people.

They sighed, hands clenching and unclenching the counter edge before giving in with a soft sigh and nod.

A small act of sharing. That’s all it was.

Hands slipped from the corners and, feeling like they were both weightless and falling, quickly went to clasp in front of them with fingers interlocked.

“When I found out about my DOOMs, I was probably about… thirteen? Give or take. I had ran out of the home, nothing too bad, I guess, just not where I wanted to be forever. Being trapped in there, when I’d seen pictures of what outside looked like, I couldn’t bare the idea of staying in some small bunker the rest of my life. And I never did what I was told, not if it went against how I felt. Eventually, they gave up trying to sway me away from that idea, let me leave and didn’t stop me. But they… uh…” They sucked in a sharp breath and let it out just as harsh. “They never let me back in. Even when it began to pour.” (Y/N) looked up briefly, trying to find out what Higgs’ reaction was. He kept his face neutral except for a small furrow of his brow, eyes trained solely on the ice cream he had picked up again, but they could tell he was paying attention.

“I was out in the rain in nothing but a hoodie and sweatpants for what had to have been... two hours? Clothes turning to tatters and falling apart. The rain eventually got to most of me, but it didn’t do anything. Just… slid off like shower water, except it was tingly like soda - almost stung. Eventually I ran into BTs and I could almost completely see them. It was so terrifying. I didn’t know what to do...

“Eventually this guy, Evan, was driving by in a truck and found me huddled in a small indent on a side of a cliff. Holding the last remnants of clothing I had left and nearly frozen to death. Everyone was astonished. I mean, they hadn’t known anyone to stay in the rain for that long and not suffer any of the effects.” With a big sigh, they gestured their arms out before letting them flop to their sides. Frustration, and the familiar sense of hopelessness, they had felt began slowly bubbling in their chest.

“I didn’t have any parents to fight for me, I was a minor, so I didn’t have a say over myself. You’d think since I was a kid I would be treated with some bit of respect or-or some gentleness, but a lot of the scientists just treated me like an enigma. Ran tests after tests. Trying to find a way to make others immune to Timefall or something, to see what other “special abilities I had”. Eventually, I was old enough to leave their “protective” custody, but they kept me reeled in. They gave me food and shelter, I gave them blood tests, DOOMs tests, and any other kind of test they could think about.

“Once they found out I could Jump, it was the beginning of the end. They pushed me, trying to see if it was my connection to the Beach that gave me Timefall immunity, but I can’t Jump often. And it leaves me sick for days afterwards. They pushed me particular day, a little harder than before, and I was going to Jump for the third time that day.” (Y/N)’s voice rose in pitch before they cleared their throat. Hands came infront of them and clasped.

“I don’t know what happened? I just know that I didn’t jump five feet forward. I was stuck somewhere dark and empty for what felt like hours, I was so scared. I thought I had just… stopped existing.” Their voice caught in their throat, and they couldn’t think of anything to say. Eventually they looked up to see him staring at them, eyes showing something they couldn’t explain and jaw working. He looked angry - thinly veiled and nearly revealing itself. It reminded (Y/N) of the clouds before harsh Chiral Storms.

(Y/N) crossed their arms, tightening them firmly around them in hopes of controlling their quickening breaths.

“How’d you get back?” He finally asked, voice low and nearly leaving a casual tone to something that matched the look in his eyes. They tried not to think too much of it, just assumed it was them hoping for anything other than apathy.

“I don’t know, really. I just remember sixteen year old me screaming for help until I couldn’t use my voice anymore.” They shrugged, trying to make it seem less traumatizing than it really was. “I… think?-” They sucked in another sharp breath which wavered at the end. “I remember seeing someone else there, and I think I remember them saying something to me before I woke up in the med bay, but I couldn’t remember their face even if I tried my hardest. It just all feels like radio static. Woke up in the med bay, being fed some disgusting Cryptobiote paste. They didn’t really know what happened, but they assumed that I had gotten stuck in a space between a Beach and here.”

“Sounds like a scary thing for a kid to go through.” His voice was back to some form of neutral, eyes searching their face before he spoke again. Jutting out his chin slightly as his brows furrowed. “Still haven’t said shit about why you stopped using ‘em.” He pointed out.

“Too painful of a reminder, I guess. Fuck, why would I want to think about something that’s caused me so many sleepless nights? And, I mean, I only tried Jumping a few times after that with success. It’s really hard - draining. I can see BTs, I’m immune to Timefall, but I can’t jump worth shit. And I don’t really know about the funky levitating or BT summoning thing, not really keen on seeing if I can.” They swallowed and looked back down to their feet. Their heart was going faster in tempo than usual, breath wavering slightly as their arms dropped and hands clasped the island’s edge again.

Thinking about those years always brought back terrible memories, and talking about it was harder than they tried to make it seem. There was a burn, deep in their chest, whenever they thought back to those times- those places.

They were just happy they were out of there.

He didn’t say anything for a while, eyes seemingly searching theirs, before he looked down and took another spoonful of ice cream. (Y/N) opened their mouth to say something- or to get him to say something, but stopped when he turned to the side and opened the drawer beside him. He took out another spoon and handed it over to them.

They frowned, but nonetheless took it, looking between him and a utensil before finally saying something.

“Cool. A spoon. Why-”

He shoved the ice cream into their hands. “How about you shut up and take the spoon, alright?”

They looked down at the ice cream, and with a sigh, took a bite.

“Are you… feeling sympathy, Higgs?”

He looked up at them with a scoff and rolled his eyes. “Never.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Didn’t I tell just you to shut up?” They let out a soft laugh.

“Ah, finally understanding what it feels like to me, aren’t you?”

Higgs didn’t bring any of that up after that, but there was a change in how he acted. Not pity, or like they were a delicate flower, of course - Higgs didn’t even know how to begin treating someone gently. But there was this respect and thought for their emotions and thoughts in his actions - rather than a nearly complete disregard for them. Something really did change after that, and (Y/N) didn’t know whether it was a good or a bad thing.

What they did know, was that it wasn’t a coincidence that the doctors that went missing a few days later were the same doctors that treated them.

(Y/N) sat in their uncomfortably cold and empty couch. Staring off into the distance with their hands pressed together against their lips. After they had woken up from their “dream” - or whatever it was - merely hours before that they had with Amelie, they had been in constant turmoil. Torn by the good memories - though some of them might not have been the best - and the horrific actions he had caused. It wasn’t their place to say whether someone did or didn’t deserve to die, but with Higgs? After everything that he had done?

(Y/N) knew that in the end he was dealt a shitty card. That he hadn’t really been given the chance to be the good guy. How many times could someone continue to get beaten down, used, twisted and pulled, before they decided to snap? To become the bad guy so that they wouldn’t be the victim? How long until someone decides to try a taste of the power that people used against him? How easy was it to let that consume you?

“When did you learn to play?” The two had been sitting on (Y/N)’s bed for a while now, with (Y/N) finishing the last of their book, and Higgs gently strumming the guitar he had just found out they had.

It had been quiet, and oddly serene, for a while now. A beautifully delicate atmosphere that seemed far safer than it should have with Higgs in the room. Not that they were complaining, over the past few months everything had gotten... far more comfortable than they had assumed it would. And Higgs, who never showed any emotions other than cocky arrogance and self empowerment, had shown some genuine vulnerability when (Y/N) had found out he could play, and proceeded to convince him to do so.

He looked so… different. The light of the candles seemed to reveal part of him that they had never noticed. Shining through his dark brown hair, which was shockingly clean, and turning it into a mixture of amber and gold. When it hit his eyes just right, golden flecks would sparkle in the steel blue. They had tried to be subtle about their peaking, but it was so hard when he looked so beautiful.

His right hand stopped its light picking of the strings and he moved his arm to rest across of guitar. He looked almost shy when he decided to glance up at them, and (Y/N) wondered if the candlelight and atmosphere had given him the same comfort in small acts of vulnerability as it had for them.

Higgs shifted in his spot as he adjusted the guitar on his lap.

“I used to have one a while back.” He turned his head to look over at one of the candles, suddenly seeming very interested in the flickering of the flame.

(Y/N) nodded, brows lightly scrunched together when trying to pick apart the bad in the memory. “But not anymore?”

He shook his head, looking back down at the guitar and brushing his thumb across the strings. “Nope. Not anymore.” He stayed there for a moment, eyes downcast and lips pulled into a slight frown. Eventually, he lifted the guitar off of his lap and leaned it against the bedside table.

Silence hung in the air for a moment, and (Y/N) kept pulling blanks in attempt to find out what they should say or not. They felt like they were playing chess. Stuck in a corner where almost every move felt like the wrong one. Emotions were hard for (Y/N), never something they were taught how to handle, even when it had come to their own, and especially it came to comforting someone else, it felt like walking on glass. They didn’t want to hurt people, and most certainly not him. Not now. When he looked so… exposed. But the look in his eyes as he adjusted against the array of pillows and clasped his hands in front of him, like he didn’t know how to sit or act - it was easy to see that he had something dark and heavy on his mind. His brows scrunched as he moved again to leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked so troubled, like an old memory plagued his mind and he couldn’t shove it away no matter how hard he tried.

It was a scary moment, wondering if he was going to disappear or stay. Not knowing whether breaking the silence or letting it stay would shut him down. The only time he ever stayed even remotely vulnerable around them was when he first visited, though he was quick to hide it. To make it seem like he was just tired, even when his eyes seemed to be drowning in sorrow. Every other time he had ever seemed down, he would run away and come back hours later as if nothing happened.

But, for the first time in a long time, (Y/N) wanted to truly know someone. Even if it terrified them to do so.

“Why not?” They winced at the flat question, mentally scolding themselves for not saying anything else. Looking down at their hands, fiddling with their fingers, as they patiently, ans hopefully, waited for him to answer.

He was quiet for a long time, and when they glanced towards him, they could see he was torn. Bottom lip between teeth and eyes cast downwards. The wall was cracking, and with a soft, gentle sigh, it had broken down just enough for a them to finally catch a glimpse.

“Music is… hope. It’s meant to create some sort’v relief and happiness- an expectation for a good end to all the bullshit that goes on in the world. But if there is one thing I can know for sure, it’s that this shit ain’t going to be ending with anything other than one. Big. Bang. There isn’t any hope. Not anymore. So why bother.” Higgs’ voice sounded rough. Low and husky, and so dejected. (Y/N) could have sworn there was a crack towards the end, no matter how veiled he tried to make it. He sounded so hopeless… so broken and so alone.

Another silence seemed to hang in the air for a moment, before (Y/N) gave a gentle nod, and sucked in a soft breath. They had forgotten how to comfort people, but they weren’t going to ask to see a wound only to leave it untreated.

“Hope only goes away when you let it, Higgs. Once you give up on it, once you stop doing anything to prevent a dark inevitability, that’s when everything falls apart.” He was quiet for a minute, and (Y/N) worried that they might have said something wrong, that they had done more damage than good.

He looked over at them finally, and though his eyes seemed tired and pained, he let one of his cocky smiles grow on his lips as he let out a soft huff of amusement. “You’re really gonna let yourself down with that one, ya’ know that, right?”

They shrugged and gave another soft nod as a deprecating chuckle slipped out. “Probably. But if we really are doomed, at least I had comfort in hope.”

They remembered a quote they had heard before - “they say everyone is born a hero, but if you let it, life will push you over the line until you’re the villain.” Higgs was a bad man who had done truly terrible things, they had no doubt about that. But he also had this light in him that, however dimmed it may be, or he tried to make it seem, shone - even in the oddest of ways. He cared, he wanted to do good, but he was sick of being on the losing side. Sick of being taken from till he had nothing. To be given that ability to take instead of lose, how many in this world could chose the former?

Did he have the ability to come back? To find that light and let it become something? Did (Y/N) truly have the right to judge whether he was capable of good or not?

Everything seemed jaded and oh-so convoluted. They didn’t know what was right and wrong, what was up or down. They felt like they were in a pitch black pool, unable to see the direction of the air bubbles, but desperately trying to find the surface.

But there was one thing that they knew. If they were to just leave him, when there was an inkling of a chance of saving him, they would have to live for the rest of their life with that on their shoulders. To go everyday knowing that the man they loved so fucking much was gone, and they hadn’t lifted a finger to stop it.

The thought scared (Y/N) to the bones. The fear of losing him, of just letting fate deal its punishment towards him without even trying to intervene.

If there was a Beach for the good and a Beach for the bad, it was easy to know that they were bound for the latter no matter what they did at this point. It didn’t matter anymore.

They nodded. Standing up and rubbing their sweaty and shaking palms onto their pants as the stood in the middle of their living room.

There was no more hesitation. Even if they feared their powers, feared the prospect of going back to that… place. Even if there was a chance they might never make it to Higgs.

They weren’t going to give up. They were going to get him back.

No matter what.

#higgs x reader #higgs monaghan x reader #death stranding x reader #higgs monaghan

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pawnshopsouls · 3 years

Text

Mobile - Terms - Rules

“Alright folks, here’s the laundry list a’ rules teh this here blog.

1. This blog o’ mine is private & semi-selective - meanin’ I only do rp threads with folks I follow and I won’t go followin’ everyone who follows me. (There are exceptions but those are rare and far between.)

2. I won’t follow yeh unless you have an about page and a rules page. That’s it. Size doesn’t matter so long as they’re there and legible. There are exceptions to this rule, but only if you’re an established canon character of whatever world/series you’re from. But even then, yeh need a link teh source material so I can do research on yeh before interactin’ with yeh.

Note! My Mun ‘n’ I will also be unfollowing blogs who spam their blogs with content unrelated to their blogs or characters. (No offense to these blogs, we just like havin’ a clean dashboard.)

3. Memes/Asks/magic!anons are open and welcomed, but RP starter asks are reserved for rp blogs only. (Sorry personals!)

Note! My mun and I reserve the right teh not answer asks. There are times when my biographer doesn’t feel up teh respondin’ teh certain asks. That don’t mean fer yeh teh stop sendin’ ‘em, it just means she ain’t feelin’ that ask or meme and wants teh do somethin’ else. Also, my Biographer has a limited amount a’ stamina teh do things so please be understandin’ and don’t take this as a sign that she ain’t interested in yeh and yer blog as a whole.

4. My brother and I are open teh havin’ relationships. Friendships, romantics, the works -but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and have a few threads before we decide anythin’. Incompatibility is pretty lethal for my kind, y'know? So let’s get teh know each other first, then we’ll see how relationship things work out.

5. My biographer(mun) and I don’t do smut. Though my biographer is of age (27+) and I got no problem doin’ flirty or even suggestive stuff, fade-to-blacks are definitely preferred.

6. If yeh need somethin’ tagged, lemme know so I can’ tag and bag it for relocation. I don’t want my valued customers gettin’ too spooked teh buy merchandise, if yeh know what I mean. Current tags will include tw and tags with a tw: and whatever it is that needs taggin’.

“Current tw tags fer Customer’s Blacklist: tw || tw abuse || tw suicide || tw violence || tw nsfw || tw death || tw gore || tw negative || tw harassment || tw body horror || tw current events || tw politics

7. My biographer has a blocked tag list. So if yeh could tag these, we’d appreciate it! Especially the politics. She hates havin’ politics in a space like this. ‘kills the will teh write’ she says. So be a pal ‘n’ tag these so we can avoid these, a’right?

“My biographers tag black list: tw || politics | tw politics || nsfw | tw nsfw || suicide | tw suicide || current events || tw current events

8. No hatin’ here folks. This refers teh anon-hate, call-out-posts, “receipt” blogs ’n’ posts, etc. If yeh have a problem, take it up with the person yeh have a problem with or block ’n’ unfollow. There’s no need teh hang out yer dirty laundry ’n’ make a dramatic witch-hunt ’n’ smear campaign about it. ((We’ve seen too many folks run out a’ fandoms by folks fer upsettin’ the wrong folks, disagreein’ on a topic, ‘n’ unfollowing the wrong person fer the “wrong reason"—a reason that was only brought to light after pressure from said witch-hunters to reveal it.)) All in all, if someone is as bad as yeh say, report ‘em ‘n’ get on with yer life. Don’t be floodin’ or draggin’ me ‘n’ other people inteh it.

That said, if yeh have a problem with this blog here, yer more ‘n’ welcome teh bring it up civilly teh my biographer. However, just know she don’t take well to point-blank neanderthalic hate mail. Plain ol’ waste a’ time if yeh ask me.

9. My Biographer retains any and all copyright to all original materials generated by this blog. Meanin’ anything she writes, draws or creates in some other such medium belongs exclusively teh her. Copyright infringement is illegal folks, so watch yer back.

10. if yer a friggin’ porn blog or some other blog endorsin’, promotin’ said illicit activities ooc, yer gonna be blocked. Pardon my frankness, but just because my biographer is of age (around 26 or so) and she and I indulge in slight nsfw-ish dealin’ with horrific, violent, and/or possibly suggestive themes, does not mean we have the time or patience teh be dealin’ with straight up porno freaks. If my author doesn’t like doin’ smut in writin’, preferin’ a fade teh black if ever the situation comes up, what makes you think they like seein’ it on the screen in full color?

“That aside, porn and sexually explicit things make my Biographer very uncomfortable. There are certain things they’re okay with - Suggestive is fine, nsfw-ish, and but full view a’ the nitty gritty pump-and-go action is way outa line fer them. It’s why they have NSFW on their black list - so they can choose whether or not to view or block said material. So if yeh could be a pal an’ tag that stuff, it makes goin’ through the dash easier too.

“So consider this yer warnin’, porn blogs, I don’t tolerate that kind of garbage in my inner circles…

11. If yeh want to have a conflict-based thread, chat it up with my mun first. Whether it’s gonna be a short thing via asks or yer lookin’ teh make or resolve conflict between yer folks ‘n’ those over here, be sure teh talk it out with our biographer first. As she’d say, “Unplotted angst/conflict tends to end up causing blocks between muns & muses. So let’s talk out their issues & plan a resolution before we start threading that rp.”

12. If I cross/break yer terms/rules by accident or mistake, lemme know so I can fix it, a'right? Again, I hate makin’ people uncomfortable, especially when the majority of us are here just to have a good time.

13. If we’re associates/mutuals ‘n’ yeh wanna part ways, please let me know 'n’ if yeh can, do a soft block. I don’t want teh come off as disrespectful teh yeh 'n’ bother yeh when yeh don’t want teh do business with me. But if we’ve known each other fer a while, I would like at least a chance teh say goodbye 'n’ part on good terms. I know me 'n’ my biographer ain’t perfect, but partin’ with friends is hard enough without losin’ the chance teh say goodbye.

“Whelp, that about sums it up fer now. There’s more about me in my Info pages, however, yeh ain’t obligated teh read ‘em - especially all at once. My Biographer’s spent quite a bit a’ time puttin’ those together, so feel free teh take yer time while browsin’ through them. If yeh got any questions, asks, magic anons, etc., yer more ‘n welcome to stop by the post box and send an ask or two!”

#¢::Passin'Gossip::¢#ooc #¢::OutOfSpooks::¢#rules #mobile rules #¢::WhatABonelyQueue::¢

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spine-buster · 4 years

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Alone Together | Epilogue 4: The Sweetest Eyes I’ve Ever Seen | Morgan Rielly

January 13th, 2028

Bee heard the doorbell ring as she finished loading Andy’s bowl in the dishwasher. After a nice and calm breakfast of Dino Eggs oatmeal with fruit (Andy’s favourite), he was already playing with his see and spell puzzle toys on the carpet in the family room quietly, Maggie laying down beside him, his trusty little red fox plush toy he aptly named Pip watching him. He was still in his comfy onesie pyjamas, and Bee knew he wouldn’t want to change out of them. Hopefully their guest at the door would make him want to change his mind.

Andy perked up once he heard the doorbell ring. “Who’s at my house?”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh at his question – something he’d started to say recently whenever the doorbell rang. She thought it was the cutest thing in the world. “I don’t know! Let’s go see!” she extended her had out to him so he could follow her to the front door. He grabbed Pip and held him in his hands as he scurried towards Bee, Maggie following close behind.

When she opened it for the big reveal, Andy started hopping up and down excitedly. “Tyler!!!” he screamed before running out and jumping to avoid the snow.

Tyler caught him perfectly and scooped him up in his arms. “Heeeeyyyyyy little man!” he smiled from ear to ear as he balanced Andy on his hip as he walked into the house. “How’s my godson doing?”

“G…G…Good,” Andy stuttered out, smiling from ear to ear.

“Are you excited to see me?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “W…What are you doing at my house?”

“Well, mommy called me because she said you went to the library yesterday and got some new books,” Tyler explained. “And you know how much I love reading books to you.”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked at Bee. “Mommy, Tyler can read my b…b…books to me?”

“Yes he can,” she smiled. “How about you go up to your room and get them.”

Andy wiggled out of Tyler grasp and climbed the stairs one step at a time, trying to go as quickly as his little feet would let him. Tyler and Bee hugged in the foyer before he began to take off his boots and unzip his jacket. “The stuttering’s gotten better,” Tyler commented.

Bee nodded her head. When Andy started to talk and develop words and sentences, she and Morgan noticed right away that he was stuttering. They thought it was maybe just a kid thing, because a lot of kids stutter when they’re first learning words or developing sentences to speak, but Andy’s problem persisted. Now that he was able to string words together to create sentences, the issue was more pronounced. It was definitely noticeable to everyone – the rude ones pointed it out; the good ones were patient with him like everyone should be. “A little, yeah. We started him in speech therapy once a week.”

“It’s working.”

“We’re hoping,” she said. “We’re trying to get him to talk more to other kids too. We can tell he sometimes avoids it. Even if it persists…we just want him to feel that it’s okay.”

“Well, of course,” Tyler said. “He’s a smart kid, sweetcheeks. He’s three and he can already read some words better than I can.”

Bee snorted, shoving Tyler playfully. “You want some coffee or what? Morgan should be home in ten minutes and then we’ll leave you to it.”

***

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, I can confirm you’re pregnant again,” Dr. Greenblatt smiled at Morgan and Bee.

“Oh, perfect!” Bee smiled from ear to ear as Morgan squeezed her hand. “We…I mean, we’ve been trying for a couple of months. It’s nice for it to be official!”

“You’re eleven weeks according to the schedule you provided, and your blood work, which means you’re due in late July,” he looked over the documents in his file. “But everything looks good. I know there were some difficulties at the beginning. You mentioned there were no symptoms from when you had your two early miscarriages.”

“Right.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, everything looks good on my end. I can book you in with the ultrasound technician we have if you’d like your sonogram,” Dr. Greenblatt offered.

“That would be perfect,” Morgan said.

***

When Morgan and Bee walked into their house, they saw Tyler and Andy – holding Pip – cuddled on the couch. Tyler was reading Robert Munsch’s Andrew’s Loose Tooth, and Bee could see Moose, Thomas’ Snowsuit, David’s Father, and Just One Goal! on the coffee table in front of them. Andy was still wearing his pyjamas. There was a blanket draped over Tyler’s legs. It was all very cute.

“How are my boys doing?” Bee announced as she walked into the family room, leaning over the couch. Andy barely moved from his spot, too comfortable against Tyler’s chest and too entranced in Andrew’s Loose Tooth (though it was probably the 50th time he’d read the book) to even look up.

“Hi mama, hi dada,” Andy said absent-mindedly. He wiggled a bit in Tyler’s arms to get his attention. “Keep reading.”

Tyler wiggled his eyebrows at Bee and Morgan before turning the page and continuing to read. Bee laughed as she walked around the corner of the sectional couch, bent over, and kissed the top of Andy’s head before messing up his hair slightly.

***

After a homemade lunch, more playtime with Tyler (read: playing ministicks with Tyler, who was on his knees, and “bodychecking” him so he would fall over dramatically), his regular afternoon nap, and dinner, Andy was tired and ready for his 8pm bedtime. He had already changed himself into his pyjamas, and Morgan helped him brush his teeth before carrying him to his bed where Bee was waiting.

“I b…b…brush my teeth mama,” Andy said as he emerged from the washroom, Pip securely in his arm as he climbed into bed.

“Good job,” she smiled, pulling the covers back. Andy wiggled underneath the covers and Morgan sat on the opposite side of the bed, looking at him lovingly. Once he was underneath and lying down, his head on the pillow, Pip tucked into him, and the comforter stuffed around him, just how he liked it (“Make me a burrito!” he’d yell on more boisterous nights), Bee took a deep breath. “Andy…daddy and I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

Morgan looked at Bee quickly before looking back at Andy. “Boobear, you know how Jace has a little sister, Isabella?”

“Yes,” Andy nodded his head. “J…Jace and Isabella are my f…f…friends.”

“And you know how Henry has a little sister, Greta?” Bee continued.

Andy nodded his head again. “Henry and G…Greta are my friends too. But they live f…far away.”

“Well Andy, you’re going to be a big brother too now,” Morgan smiled at his son. Andy’s eyes went wide as he realized what his dad was telling him. “Mommy has a baby in her belly and in July or August you’re going to have a new brother or sister.”

Andy looked towards his mom. “Mommy…there b…baby in your belly?”

“Mhm,” Bee nodded her head. She put her hand over her stomach and, although there was barely anything there yet, she tried to cup something so Andy could get the visual.

“Boy or girl?”

“We don’t know. We’ll find out when the baby comes,” she said.

“When baby comes I…I going to be a b…b…big boy,” Andy said matter-of-factly. Morgan and Bee laughed. “I going to be good big b…brother.”

“Yes you will be, boobear,” Morgan said, leaning down to kiss his son. “You can teach baby how to read, how to build Lego--”

“I teach b…baby all the animals,” Andy interjected.

“Exactly! See! You’re going to be a great big brother,” Morgan smiled. “Think about all the things you’re gonna teach baby when they’re here, okay?”

“Okay,” Andy smiled contently as his eyelids started to droop from drowsiness.

“Goodnight boobear. Daddy loves you,” Morgan cooed.

“I love you daddy.”

“Goodnight Andy. Mommy loves you.”

“I love you mommy.”

***

April 16th 2028

Bee woke up on a Sunday morning to kisses on her neck and shoulder. Since being with Morgan, it was her favourite way to wake up, and truthfully, she never got sick of it. He almost over-indulged her with it. It has been ten years since it started, and it was still the best; the most comforting feeling; the thing she looked forward to the most.

Bee smiled to herself as she felt his tongue graze her skin, his breath hot as he moved up her neck and towards her ear. She took a deep breath in. At that moment, he knew she was awake. “G’morning,” his voice was coarse and full of sleep, but he continued to kiss her.

“Morning, you big moose,” she mumbled. She felt the arm wrapped around her move down slightly the cup her growing bump. At twenty-six weeks now, she was just slightly smaller than she was at twenty-six weeks with Andy (judging by pictures), but was experiencing much of the same symptoms of pregnancy. The back pain, the swelled ankles, the dramatic girth.

Morgan continued his kisses. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.”

“You think we can--”

“Please Morgan. Please.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He helped her wiggle out of her pyjama pants and top, and began kissing his way down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts. “I wanna taste you,” he mumbled.

Bee nodded her head. “Go. Go.”

He dove in. She was sensitive these days, and her senses all the more heightened, so when he began lapping at her, there was an automatic reaction. He hadn’t tired of this, either – eating her out like she was the last meal on earth. He hadn’t tired of much, really. He was still obsessed with her; still obsessed with her taste and how she felt wrapped around him; how warm her walls were and how they clenched around his cock whenever he helped her reach her climax. Every time was still special. The quick ones, the long ones, the ones where she dressed up, the ones where they used only their hands and mouths, the ones that made them scream, the ones that kept them quiet, the ones that were frantic, the ones that were nice and slow, the ones that led them to orgasm over and over again. Every time was still the best time.

After making her orgasm twice with his tongue, she began to tug on his hair. Her breathing was hot and heavy as she kissed him sloppily, tasting her juices on him, before she bit his bottom lip playfully. “Lay on your back,” she said.

In return, he bit her bottom lip too. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I wanna ride you,” she said. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Morgan groaned, flipping over onto his back. “Get up here.”

Bee took her time, taking off her pyjama shirt first before making sure she was comfortable as she lowered herself onto him slowly. Morgan’s hands were on her hips, helping to guide her. “Does it feel okay?”

She looked down at him. His mouth was still glistening with her juices. She nodded her head and closed her eyes. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Never. Never,” he shook his head, propping himself up so he could kiss her. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You don’t even know. You’re so sexy and beautiful.”

“Even as a big ol’ pregnant lady?” she giggled slightly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady herself now that she was riding him in his lap rather than with him lying down.

“Especially as a big ol’ pregnant lady,” he kissed her. “You have no idea Briony. You’ve given me my children, my family. You’ve given me my world. The gifts you’ve given me…there are no words to describe how much I love you.”

“And you’ve given me my world,” she whispered, kissing him one last time before pushing him back down onto his back. She continued to ride him slowly, trying to make the intimacy of the moment last as long as possible. Today, their house would be full of people, and while she loved hosting, she loved every minute of alone time she got with Morgan even more.

“Y’okay, baby?” she asked. “I’m close.”

“Make yourself cum on my cock, Briony.”

That was what she loved to hear. After over ten years and countless amounts of dirty talk, it still got her off. She moaned loudly as she began shaking on top of him, her orgasm coursing through her. “Fuuuuuuuck, Morgan,” she mewled out.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words as she came down from her orgasm. Eventually, she lay down at Morgan’s side, cuddling up to him. One of Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, while another rested between her legs, feeling her wetness. Morgan kissed her. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too.”

There was a few minutes of silence as they both caught their breaths, Morgan kissing her a few more times. Before Bee could get too comfortable, she looked at Morgan. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before Andy wakes up.”

Morgan smiled. “Wish I could join you.”

After about half an hour, Bee emerged from the bathroom, he hair wet but brushed through, a new pair of pyjamas on her. “You think Andy’s awake yet?” she asked as she made her way back towards the bed.

As if on cue, they heard the door from Andy’s room burst open. “Here comes the earthquake,” Morgan mumbled into his pillow as the heavy footsteps of Andy were heard running down the hallway. Bee chuckled at all the noise his little feet made; she couldn’t believe someone so small could make so much noise.

The door burst open. “Mommy! Daddy!” he scurried over, immediately climbing into the bed. “I have B…B…Brucey with me!” he screamed. A loud, happy meow from Bruce followed. “Brucey slept in my b…bed last night.”

“Is that a little bear I hear sneaking into my bed?” Morgan asked. The second he saw Andy let go of Bruce, Morgan growled like a bear and wrapped his arms around his son dramatically, pulling him into the bed and against his chest. Andy began to laugh uncontrollably as Morgan began kissing him all over. Andy tried to get away but Morgan was too strong, squeezing him even tighter as he peppered him with kisses. Bee took the opportunity to slip her hand into the drawer of her bedside table and pull out a single small chocolate egg, placing it on top of the table for Andy to find.

When Morgan stopped peppering his son with kisses, he turned over onto his back and lifted Andy up on his legs like an airplane. Andy couldn’t stop laughing as Morgan held his hands. “You remember what today is, big man?”

Andy nodded his head. “T…Today is Easter.”

“Are you excited for everybody to be at our house?” Bee finally piped up after looking on adoringly at her two boys. “Aunt Angie, Uncle Mason, and Leon, Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy and--”

“Mama, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to something behind her.

Bee smiled. She turned around dramatically to look at what he was pointing to: the little chocolate egg she had put on the bedside table. “Where?”

“There,” he pointed again. Morgan lowered him. “Mama, is that…d…did the Easter b…b…bunny come to our house?!”

“I think so!”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked down at his dad. “Dada, we need to f…find all the eggs!”

“Let’s go!”

***

Saturday, July 1st, 2028

“Mommyyyyyy! I see f…f…fishies!” Andy screamed excitedly as he bent over the boat to look in the water. Morgan held Andy in his arms, leaning him over the boat to see the water and look at whatever fish Andy saw (or didn’t really see).

“Be careful!” she yelled out to him. “Don’t go too far over!”

“Mommy come see the fishies!”

“Mommy can’t come right now,” she said, resting her hand on her large bump. “You need to tell mommy what you see.”

Andy looked back dramatically at his mom. Clearly he did not like her answer. “Is it because of b…baby?” he asked.

“No, boobear.”

Andy wiggled out of Morgan’s arms and walked over the Bee resting on the back bench of the boat. He placed his hands on the sides of her bump and put his face right next to it. “Baby…we’re in V…V…Vancouver and we’re on a b…boat,” Andy said into Bee’s bump. “You have to be s…safe on a boat. You have to wear a lifejacket so you don’t f…f…fall into the water. Stop moving so mommy can see the f…fishies!”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not because of the baby, Andy.”

“Then why c…can’t you come?”

“Mommy is very tired because I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said.

“Because of the baby!”

“No!” she couldn’t help but giggle. “You silly boy. It’s not because of the baby.”

Andy turned back and made his way back towards Morgan with his hands up, signalling that he wanted to be picked up again. As Morgan did so, he bent Andy over the edge of the boat again. “W…Where did the fishes go?” he asked.

“I think they swam away,” Morgan said.

“We have to go f…find them!” Andy exclaimed, looking at his dad. “Did they go to their h…h…home?”

“I think so.”

“Dada…do the f…fishies live like where Nemo lives?”

Morgan chuckled to himself. “No boobear. These fish live here in Vancouver. Nemo lives all the way on the other side of the Pacific Ocean in a place called Australia, in the Great Barrier Reef.”

“C…Can we go there?”

“Maybe one day,” Morgan kissed Andy’s cheek. “You wanna go find Nemo?”

Andy nodded his head. “I wanna find Nemo and D…D…Dory and the sea turtles!” he exclaimed. “We go with m…mamma and my new b…brother or sister.”

“That sounds like an amazing family trip,” Morgan commented. “Can Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy come too?”

“Yup!”

“What about Aunt Angie and Uncle Mason?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, causing Morgan to chuckle again. “My best friend Leon has to come with us!”

“Then it’s set!” he pulled Andy from over the boat to walk back towards where Bee was sitting. “Guess what mama! Pack your bags! We’re going to Australia!”

***

Monday, July 31st, 2028

Morgan could see the eyes and hair of Andy looking over the ledge of the skating rink at Hollyburn Country Club as he skated around the ice, doing a few warm-up laps with the other skaters so Andy could see him skate before trying to skate himself. Morgan waved at his son, and began to make his way over to where he was.

Andy didn’t move from standing on his tiptoes, looking past the ledge onto the ice, even as Morgan skated towards him, opening the gate and walking onto the soft ground. “Did you see me wave, Andy?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see Grandma and Grandpa out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready to skate just like daddy?”

Andy didn’t respond. He looked out onto the ice for a few more seconds before slowly making his way over to the bench, sitting in front of Morgan who was already ready with the skates in his hand. As Morgan shoved them on and began tightening them, Andy became nervous. He tried to look over his shoulder to see if he could see the ice again, but he couldn’t. That made him all the more nervous. He looked back at his dad, shoving the other lace onto his left foot now.

“Dada…” Andy said uneasily, looking down at the skate Morgan was already tying up on his feet.

“Yeah, boobear?”

“I’m s…s…scared.”

The second the words escaped from Andy’s mouth, Morgan stopped his movements. He set down his foot gently as he looked at Andy worriedly. “Why are you scared?”

The small pout that formed on his face said enough. “What if I’m not g…good at skating like the other kids like I’m not good at t…t…talking like the other kids?”

Morgan’s heart broke into a million pieces. “Oh, Andy…” he said as Andy shed a tear. “Andy, that doesn’t matter at all.”

“I want to t…t…talk like all th…th…the other k…k…kids but I c…c…can’t, no matter how h…hard I t…t…try.”

Morgan moved closer to his son so he could hug him tightly. He hugged him for such a long time, but Andy didn’t pull away as he cried on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan snaked his hand underneath the Rielly jersey his son wore to rub his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Andy. It’s okay,” he cooed over and over. “Andy, I want you to listen to me, okay? Look at me,” he said, finally pulling away. He wiped the tears away from Andy’s eyes and cheeks before he could continue. “It doesn’t matter that you stutter and the other kids don’t. It doesn’t matter at all. Remember how mommy and I say that what you say is more important than how you say it?” Morgan asked. Andy nodded his head. “That’s what matters, boobear. You’re still such a smart boy. You’re so smart and you’re so nice to all the other boys and girls. And you have so many friends who love you. You have your best friend Leon and you have Jace, and Isabella, and Henry and Jacob and Naylah and – Andy, listen. You’re always good enough, okay? You’re always good enough.”

“Okay…” he said, his voice still a bit uneasy. “But dada, wh…what if I can’t s…s…skate like you can? Or like J…Jace? Jace is good at s…s…skating.”

“Then that’s okay, boobear,” Morgan said. “You just have to try. If you never try then you never know if you can do it, right?”

“Right.”

“You wanna know a secret?”

Andy’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“One day, Grandpa Andy counted how many times I fell on my bum when I learned how to skate,” he said. “Guess what the number was.”

“F…Five?”

“One hundred and seventy two,” Morgan said dramatically, causing Andy’s jaw to drop. “One hundred and seventy two! But guess what? Daddy got up one hundred and seventy three times. Daddy kept trying and trying and trying and eventually, daddy learned how to skate.”

“And now daddy is a hockey player,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“That’s right,” Morgan smiled. “So it doesn’t matter if you fall, Andy. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t like hockey. That’s okay too. But you have to try.” Morgan could feel a new sense of confidence emanating from Andy as he finished his story. Andy looked determined and ready. “Are you ready to try skating, Andy?”

“Yes dada. I’m ready.”

***

Tuesday, August 1st, 2028

“Take a deep breath in…and push for one…two…three…”

“AAAAAOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!”

“Five…six…seven…”

“You’re doing amazing, Bumblebee. Amazing.”

“Push again for one…two…three…four…four…four--”

Blood-curdling cries filled the room. Bee opened her eyes to see a baby being held in front of her – a beautiful, healthy baby screaming at the top of it’s lungs. From beside her, Morgan smiled.

“It’s a girl!” one of the nurses announced, laying their baby girl down on Bee’s chest, facing Morgan. She wailed and wailed and wailed, and Bee cried and cried and cried. Morgan looked into the eyes of his daughter and started crying too.

He had a daughter. A daughter.

“Hey dad – one more time,” the doctor said as she held out a pair of surgical scissors for Morgan to snip the umbilical cord. He did so while the other nurses tended to Bee and the baby, sucking the mucus out of her mouth and nose and wiping her down just like they did Andy when he was born.

Despite the actions of everyone working around him, Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. He knew they’d have to take her away soon to weigh and measure her, but he became entranced with her, and the fact that he now had a daughter – he was the father to a son and a daughter – to call his own.

“Mrs. Rielly, we’ll just take her to measure and weigh, then bring her back wrapped for you,” one of the nurses said.

When the baby was gone, Bee looked to Morgan. He leaned down and gave her a big kiss. “I’m a mom to a daughter,” she whispered. “Morgan I…I have a daughter.”

“You’re a mom to a daughter, Bumblebee,” he kissed her again quickly. “You’re going to be amazing.”

***

“Okay, we have to be quiet as we go inside. Baby might be sleeping,” Shirley said as she walked behind little Andy and big Andy. She could tell Andy was trying to maintain his composure and not do his little excited hops as they walked into the room. When they turned the corner, they saw Morgan holding the baby in his arms, lying in bed next to Bee who was looking on lovingly. When the couple noticed everybody enter the room, they smiled.

“Hey boobear,” Bee smiled from ear to ear, her voice still a little strained. “Do you want to come meet your baby sister?”

“I have b…b…baby sister?”

“Yes boobear. Come here. Come sit on mommy’s lap,” Bee patted.

Shirley lifted him up onto the bed as Morgan gave the baby to Bee to show Andy. Andy looked on wide-eyed at the little baby in his mommy’s hands. “She’s g…girl like Isabella?”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Mhm. This is your sister Maia. Maia Claire Rielly.”

“M…M…Maia,” Andy repeated. “Mama, I be good b…big brother to Maia.”

“I know you will,” Bee kissed the top of his head.

“You wanna give Maia a kiss?” Morgan asked.

Andy bent down and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “Hi M…Maia. I’m your brother Andy. You’re in V…V…Vancouver right now. But we live in T…T…Toronto.” He stopped suddenly, realizing something very, very important. “Dada, we t…take Maia home or she have to st…st…stay here?!”

Everybody laughed at Andy’s question. “Maia is coming home with us to Toronto, boobear. Don’t worry.”

***

Monday, September 18, 2028

“…and, you know, we’re just ready to get started, get going out there, making sure we get things done the way we want,” Morgan answered the latest reporter’s question in the media scrum following the opening day of training camp.

“Morgan --” a new reporter interrupted Paul Hendrick, “we saw that your family grew this summer with the arrival of your baby girl.”

Morgan couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as the words left the reporter’s mouth. He knew it would be brought up because, unfortunately, a picture had leaked. An “extended family portrait”, so to speak: a picture of John, Aryne, Jace, and Isabella; Angie, Mason, and Leon; Morgan, Bee, Andy, and Maia; and Tyler, all hanging out in Aryne and John’s backyard at Jace’s birthday party last week. “Ah, thanks. We did have a baby girl. It feels great.”

“Mom and baby are doing well?”

“Sure are,” he kept smiling, looking at the reporters to change the subject.

“Do you want to speak a bit about it so--”

“No. We’re not going to talk about that. But mom and baby are healthy. Big brother is happy he’s got a sibling. We’ll leave it at that.”

***

It’s a girl!

Morgan and Briony Rielly, along with big brother Andrew John, are delighted to announce the birth of their daughter, Maia Claire Rielly, born August 1st, 2028 at 3:42 pm, weighing 8lbs, 12oz, in Vancouver, British Columbia at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre.

Maia is welcomed into the Rielly family by her loving grandparents Andrew and Shirley Rielly. She is also welcomed into the extended Toronto Maple Leafs and MLSE family. Morgan and Briony would like to thank the staff at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre for their hard work and dedication to the medial profession.

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jace-the-writer-guy · 4 years

Text

The Stray of Atlas (Part One)

///Set in “The Brave and the Bold” AU///

“One twist of fate, in the blink of an eye, everything fell apart and faded away for Jace. His family, his innocence, and nearly his will to live were lost and his heart was shattered almost irreparably. His future was uncertain until a group of certain people gave him aid in his time of dire need and he was then accepted into Beacon, and another two gave him his arm. Nearly five years later, Jace has a new family in everything from close friendship, to his brother, and to his mate. The foreign exchange program came around once more at that time and with that new family by his side, Jace returns to a place he hadn’t been in since before the fateful day his life was so terribly altered.”

Word count: 3,646

*Twenty two years ago*

Jace sat in his seat in the airship, his eyes far from looking at the open book in his hands. The fingers of his prosthetic hand lightly gripped at the pages of the fantasy novel, and his real ones did the same with the pages on the other side but definitely not as hard. His eyes looked out over the sea they flew over, almost like he was in some strange trance. He had been like this for the last ten minutes or so. Raine and Auron sat across the small table from him. Auron had his hat over his face and seemed like he was sleeping, and Raine was making sure she had all her cleaning supplies for her weapons so she wouldn’t have to buy anymore for at least a while longer.

As for Alyss, she was at Jace’s left side, looking up to him with slight concern on her face. Through the bond they shared in the form of the mate’s marks on their shoulders, she felt multiple different feelings of her mate almost like they were battling for control of what he should feel. Nervousness, anxiousness, fleeting calmness, fear… None of them were too nice, and the calmness being the feeling she felt the least out of them all and slowly disappearing made her frown. The cat Faunus’ ears twitched a bit and she reached for his prosthetic hand, pulling it away from the fantasy world he paid no mind to. The fingers of her right hand intertwined with the mechanical fingers of his, and the covered the outside of his hand with her left. She knew very well that Jace could feel it, and she thanked doctor Seabolte so much for his work to allow Jace that comfort after losing his arm.

“Hey,” Alyss spoke up lightly and squeezed his hand, feeling the warm mesh of the palm and insides of his fingers against her own, and she began to do her best to send feelings of calmness to him through their bond, “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re here with you.”

Jace blinked and he let out a long, pent up breath. He pulled his vision away from the window and marked the page of his book, then he closed it and put it on the table. “I'm… still not sure about how I’m gonna react.”

“Just don’t try to hide any feelin’s,” Auron said and sat up straighter in his seat, and he put his hat on the table, “Take it the best you can. I kinda felt like that when we went to Haven a couple years ago, but I know there ain’t nothin’ comparin’ to what happened to you.”

Raine looked up from her things and she offered Jace a smile. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Jace. You can do this. You have Alyss,” She smiled a bit more and put a hand on her own shoulder, “and you have her mark. You can make it.”

Jace closed his eyes for a few moments, doing his best to accept the calmness Alyss sent his way and take everyone’s words to heart. He knew he could do this, but he was worried he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Hey, is everything alright?” They all heard Aulin ask, who stopped by and leaned over, resting her elbows on the table, “Hangin’ in there, Jace?”

Jace opened his eyes. “I'm… something.”

Alex stopped next to Aulin there and offered him a grin. “Hey, I know it’s gonna be tough, but at least you don’t have to worry about them.”

“Yeah… Thankfully not.”

“You know, your ass is hanging out for everyone to stare at, right?” Raine remarked to the ever-confident leader of team SLVR, “I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, honestly.”

Aulin snickered at that and looked at her best friend. “You’re just saying that because you’re not on the side my ass is facing.”

“I have a mate, you know.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from staring before, you know.” Aulin stuck her tongue out at the fox Faunus.

Raine rolled her eyes, her ears twitching a bit in amusement. “Bite me.”

“Let me!”

Despite Jace’s feelings at the moment, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Now there’s some improvement!” Aulin cheered and let out a bigger grin.

Alyss giggled a bit. “You both make great friends.”

“If only Vivi could share! Or Raine for that matter, damn~” Aulin licked her lips, “That cat’s ass and thighs look so-”

“Oh alright now, that’s enough from you,” Raine cut her off and looked up to the purple haired girl’s boyfriend, who was shaking his head in amusement, “Control your woman, Alex. She’s about to get something pierced other than her ears.”

“You know I can’t control her, Raine,” Alex replied and began to pull Aulin from the table, “C'mon now before Belle tracks us down.”

Alex took Aulin away and left the group in silence for several long moments. Jace took another deep breath and looked over toward the greatsword that was leaned against the seat between himself and the window. It wasn’t his own. It had a bit of a wider blade than Legacy’s, and the blade itself was five feet long, with the hilt being a foot long itself. The sword was single-edged, and the tip of the blade was a mix between a tanto-point and clip-point blade, with the edge running back down along the backside for a foot in length. The blade for the most part was dark grey while the edges and an inch past them were silver. Jace never let that sword leave his sight if he could help it and when it was left at the bottom of Beacon Tower four years ago with his blood surrounding it, it affected his mind greatly. And when he finally claimed it back at the Reclamation of Vale nearly a year later, it made him feel such great relief.

The weapon was named Standoff, and it was his fallen brother’s sword.

“It’s been so long since we’ve been there…” Jace murmured to himself and to the blade.

“Too bad it ain’t for a tournament,” Auron remarked and pulled out a bag of his deer jerky, and he stuck a piece in his mouth, “At least they still do the foreign exchange stuff though.”

Jace sighed at that. “Guess we’ll never get our chance.”

“Passengers, please return to your seats and prepare for landing.” The calm voice of the female pilot of the airship said through the intercom system, signaling their arrival to their destination.

Atlas

Jace looked out the window once more and saw that they were entering the city’s limits, which was on the ground. There were murmurings that that would soon change one day in the future and that Atlas would take to the sky, but for now the city was still grounded, and no one knew how long it would take for it to go airborne. Jace put his book in the bag he carried with him and he prepared himself mentally as much as he could, which was made immeasurable easier thanks to Alyss’ calming feelings coming through his mark.

After a few moments, everyone felt the airship touch down and a few moments later, everyone was called to depart. Alyss stepped out of the booth and grabbed her bags from above, along with the weapon case housing Soul Leaf, and she stepped aside for Jace. He put Standoff on the left side of his back, held by the magnetic plate attached to the harness he wore under his uniform jacket, and then he reached up to grab Legacy and he placed it on the right side of his back. Jace was very much used to it. Ozpin had allowed him to carry Standoff with him to every class after he was accepted into Beacon, and when he created Legacy and reclaimed his brother’s sword, he was mostly seen carrying both massive blades on his back.

Raine stepped out of their booth and grabbed Amaranthe, slinging it across her back with the string over her chest, and then she grabbed the weapon case on the floor that housed Shagohod. After her was Auron, and he slung his bags over his shoulders and grabbed the sheath that held Last Call, slinging it over his right shoulder. He didn’t have to get Smoke & Preacher from anywhere, as he had them in their holsters at his hips. After gathering all their things, team JKDW made their way off the airship and they beheld the sight of Atlas Academy, and the sight made Jace freeze up a bit.

He looked up toward the very top of the school and he felt a lump grow in his throat, and he just felt… locked up for several moments before he felt his hand being squeezed, and he looked down to see the comforting smile on Alyss’ face. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and he leaned down to press his head against hers, his tail wrapping around her thigh.

“Thank you, Alyss. I love you.” Jace said softly to her.

Alyss smiled and kissed him on the lips. “I love you too, Jace.”

“Daddy!”

“Hey, there’s my baby girl!” Auron exclaimed and gave a big smile before he walked over to where his girlfriend and his two-year-old daughter were standing.

Shyla giggled at that. “She’s missed you, Aure.”

“Awww have ya, Holly?” Auron asked with happiness in his voice before gently taking his daughter out of Shyla’s arms, and Holly nodded and gave a smile to match his before she hugged his neck, “I missed you too, honey,” He kissed her on the side of the head, “Gods, just one more year an’ I can spend a lot more time around you both.”

“I don’t think either of us can wait for that,” Shyla said and Auron gave Holly over to her, “Do you want to go to dinner after you all get settled?”

Auron nodded. “I’d love to. Talk to you later, Shy,” He looked to Holly and ruffled her hair, causing her to giggle, “Bye sweetheart. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

“Bye-bye daddy!”

Auron walked back to his team after that and they could all see the huge smile on his face. “Gods, just knowin’ me an’ Shy made somethin’ so beautiful is still enough to keep me goin’.”

“She’s still just as cute as ever,” Alyss remarked and smiled at him, “We’re all glad you’re still moving forward, Auron.”

“Thanks, Alyss. I hope she can meet Pyrrha at Heaven’s Clearin’ someday.”

“Speaking of babies, have you and Vivi made any progress in researching artificial pregnancy?” Jace asked his partner.

Raine hummed a bit as they all walked on toward the amphitheater. “A bit. We found out that they’re still experimenting and it might take a while longer before anything substantial happens.”

“And have you decided who is gonna carry your baby?” Alyss asked this time.

“Now that… we’re still not sure on.”

“Oh, did I just miss Holly!?” Aulin exclaimed nearby when she saw the back of Shyla’s head moving off in the other direction, “Auron, why didn’t you tell me!?”

“Because I wanted to hold my daughter an’ I know you woulda kept her to yourself,” Auron replied and grinned at her, “You’ll get more chances to see her, y'know.”

“Well yeah! But-”

“Aulin, please calm down,” Belle laughed next to her, “Let the man have a moment alone with his daughter.”

“You know telling her to calm down isn’t going to help anything.” Inuvali remarked.

“True, but still.”

“You guys need to stop ganging up on me!” Aulin complained and turned her head away from them, “Can you believe them, Alex?”

Alex laughed and shook his head. “No I can’t. How could you guys treat your sexy leader like that?”

Raine rolled her eyes and grinned, and she looked back to her team. “Come on, we should head on in and ignore her.”

Her teammates nodded and they all walked inside Atlas Academy, and Jace felt a small chill run through his body. He honestly never expected to walk through Atlas’ doors again. The last time he had, it was to go home for a break from school with Genesis, and then everything was taken away from him. It was always such a painful memory for the unnatural Faunus, and being back in Atlas was making it all come back to him. The ambush, the kidnapping, the experiments, feeling his father and his brother both die in his arms, losing his arm, all the people he killed in order to survive, all the innocents he and Genesis had put to rest from their suffering…

It took everything in Jace’s power to keep from falling to his knees, but even still he had to lean against the wall, covering his mouth in his real hand as his prosthetic clenched into a fist and trembled. Tears began to fill his eyes as the memories replayed in his mind. He lost everything so quickly, and then when he found someone to love and take comfort in the presence of, she was nearly taken away from him as well and that immense rage he felt still made him sick to his stomach.

“Jace!”

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he felt his back against the wall, and two slender, gentle hands holding his shoulders. “A-Alyss-”

Alyss quickly brought her mate in for a tight embrace. “Shhhh, it’s okay sweetie. Take a deep breath. We’re here for you.”

Jace trembled in her arms before he wrapped his own around her, not wanting to let go of her. He opened his mouth to try to say something, but he couldn’t find any words. He just didn’t know what to say. Soon, he felt a hand on each shoulder, one large and one smaller, and he could easily tell it was Auron and Raine. The two squeezed his shoulders and Alyss continued to keep him in her arms, and she kept doing her best to flood calming and soothing feelings into his Mark to counteract all the fear he was feeling. Several long seconds ticked by that felt like minutes to Jace as he stood with his back against the wall and in Alyss’ arms. After a while, he started to finally take deep breaths like Alyss told him to do, and he felt like he was finally starting to calm down enough to speak.

“I-I don’t think I’m ready…” He murmured, his voice barely audible.

“You are ready,” Raine told him and patted his shoulder, “After what happened with Auron a couple years ago at Haven, we all knew you would be taking this even harder than he did. It’s just moment of weakness. We all have them, but it doesn’t mean you’re not ready to be here again.”

Auron nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Y'all know it was… real bad for me. All the memories o’ what I seen almost took all my strength from me. I remembered havin’ to watch Preacher get his leg blown off an’ retire an’ I had to watch dad just slowly die in a hospital bed, an’ before all o’ that I had to see mom get bit an’ poisoned. An’ then I…” He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, “I seen you layin’ at the bottom o’ Beacon Tower with Standoff stabbed through your gut, an’ I seen Qrow come down with Pyrrha’s circlet… All o’ that was about too much to bear rememberin’ like that. I can’t imagine what you’re goin’ through right now, man.”

Jace closed his eyes as tears streamed down his cheeks, soaking into the hair between Alyss’ cat ears. “I miss them both so much…”

“We know you do, Jace,” Alyss spoke softly, reaching a hand up to gently rub the back of his head, “You can get through this. You know we’ll stay right by your side the whole time. We’re your family. And you have Alex, Aulin, Inu and Bell, and you have Ruby and the others too.”

“I heard my name!” The always-cheerful voice of the leader of team RWBY exclaimed nearby, and she and her team walked up to them, “Is everything okay?”

Jace took a shuddering breath. “Just… remembering.”

Yang gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “I guess it’s harder for now you since you’re here, huh?”

“Umm… yeah.”

“Will you be alright?” Weiss asked him, “I haven’t seen you look like this since we first visited you four years ago in the hospital.”

Jace shook his head. “I-I don’t know, Weiss… I just don’t know. I didn’t think this would just… hit me so hard.”

Blake stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. “Let Alyss help you, Jace. That’s one of the most beautiful things mates can have with each other with the marks. You know that. She’ll help you more than anything. You just need to do your best to calm down, and let her help keep you calm.”

Jace hugged Alyss a bit tighter and nodded. “I’m scared to lose her just like I lost my family, j-just like I almost lost her to the Fang…”

“But you didn’t, sweetie,” Alyss looked up from his chest and looked into his sky blue and emerald green eyes, “I’m still here, because you saved me. Their torture was nothing compared to what I felt from being taken away from you. I’ll always be here for you. Please, calm down and breath. Everything else can wait.”

“You can get through it, Jace,” Ruby said and flashed him a big smile, taking Blake’s hand in her own, “We’re gonna head into the amphitheater now. You guys take all the time you need.”

Ruby led her team off as Yang put her arm back around Weiss’ shoulders and left team JKDW there in the hallway. Jace felt himself slowly shuddering less and less in the comfort of his team and in the comfort of Alyss’ arms. He knew he needed to calm down but it was just so hard. The memories had never gotten to him like this before, and that made it so much harder to keep himself calm. One of his greatest fears was losing Alyss after she was kidnapped after the Reclamation of Vale. Not only was Alyss kidnapped, but so were the mate and son of one of their friends. Jace had felt such crushing grief when Alyss went missing that day, and when he found out that she had been kidnapped by the White Fang, that grief was replaced by absolute, burning rage.

Neither were feelings he never wanted to feel again.

Several moments ticked by as Jace closed his eyes and let his emotions settle with the immense help from the feelings Alyss sent through his mark. Those moments passed and Jace finally felt like he was okay and ready to continue on, so he said so to his team and they all continued on toward their destination. The whole way there, Jace clutched Alyss’ hand like a lifeline. He didn’t squeeze so hard it hurt her, but he definitely squeezed it with a lot of force. Alyss squeezed back though, and continuously rubbed her thumb across the top of his hand, humming softly to him to help soothe his mind.

She did that the entire time all the students were being addressed in the amphitheater as well as General Ironwood welcomed them all to Atlas. He went over the basics of Atlas’ policies and told them all the rules of the academy, and shared in the collective disappointment that another year was going by without the Vytal Tournament taking place. He had told everyone that he hoped that they still had a wonderful time in Atlas and that he along with the professors would do their best to answer any questions anyone may have. It was a standard speech he gave them all, but it was necessary to keep it like that to prevent from wasting so much time that could be spent elsewhere for the students, such as getting used to their surroundings.

“…Above all, we at Atlas and the Atlesian military would… like to once again apologize for the events of four years ago,” Ironwood began to say at the end of his speech, “Because of our lacking security, we unknowingly played a hand in the fall of Beacon, and the loss of so many lives both young and old. To this day, I still regret letting that happen and I place all of that blame on my own shoulders.”

Ironwood took a deep breath, and he let it out evenly. “It takes years to build trust, but only a moment to destroy it. I can only hope Atlas continues to build that trust once more, and it is never destroyed again. You’re all dismissed, please spend the rest of the day to relax and become familiar with the school.”

#oc #jace reznor #alyss reznor #raine daturas #james ironwood #b&b au #submission

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