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nanamikentoseyebags · 1 year

Text

I know i'm home

for everyone the scars on his body showed that for all his immense power, he was still human. for him they were an agonizing reminder that he would never let it happen again.

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

content: just his little inner satoru finally finds peace, warmth and home, hurt/comfort, fluff

a/n: i've been thinking a whole lot about little satoru lately, here's the result of my reflections lol, hope you enjoy <3

The quiet, velvety night slowly descended to the earth, spreading out an endless blanket of dark sky, sprinkled with a myriad of shimmering stars, inviting the full pale moon to slumber upon it until daybreak. A light summer breeze penetrated into your shared bedroom through the slightly open window, filling every corner of it with a pleasant freshness while gently, as if by the hand of a lover, brushing the loose strands away from your face. The barely audible murmur of the leaves, intertwined with the lulling buzzing of night insects and the occasional trill of birds, produced melodies that any composer would have envied. You stood there barefoot, in his oversized T-shirt that reached your knees, leaning your arms on the windowsill and curiously observing the nature, engulfed in a captivity of a tranquil slumber. It was miraculous how, in this hectic and violent world, there were still such peaceful nights, reserved for the two of you.

You pulled away from the window, gently adjusting the thin floral curtain he'd hung so eagerly, almost on the verge of falling, a few days ago. Listening to the tinkling sound of running water, you tiptoed toward the bathroom, the door of which was slightly ajar. The moments of simple domestic intimacy were so rare yet so precious that his five-minute absence felt like hours of unbearable torture, while the desire to peek through that little gap and catch a glimpse of the dearest silhouette grew with each passing second. You reached the door gingerly, and, squinting slightly in hopes that you wouldn't make a loud noise, you pulled it toward you, widening the viewing angle and quietly peeking in.

Your face met the pleasant warm humidity. The lamps glimmered brightly, illuminating the white tiled walls, little pearl-like droplets still dripping down as if chasing one another in an unspoken game. Satoru was standing with his back turned to you, exposing his broad shoulders and strong back with his birthmarks scattered all across it as if he was a canvas and they were the drops of paint, placed there by the hand of a great master. His snow-white hair, sparkling in the light, shimmered in an array of colors, creating a subtle glow all around him. The misted surface of the mirror revealed the imprints of his large palm, which had rid of the unwanted shroud a few minutes ago, giving him a glimpse of his reflection. His left hand rested on the edge of the basin while the other firmly gripped the razor, moving expertly across his porcelain, now covered in a layer of shaving foam, skin.

Satoru remained concentrated, turning his head deftly and delicately wielding his razor blade. His celestial blue eyes were fixed on his own reflection, while his thoughts were elsewhere. Surrounded by an unusual silence, punctuated only by the gentle whisper of flowing water, he still heard far more than any human ear could. For Satoru, the quietest night, so silent and soundless to everyone, turned into a cacophony of noisy daytime sounds.

He diligently tried to keep the annoying thoughts and noises away from him, striving to mentally return to the pleasant moments of complete tranquility with you. He put all the unnecessary shaving items into the cabinet and bent down, rinsing off the rest of the foam and sending it down the drain along with his dark thoughts. Then he straightened, taking a quick glance at his face reflected in the smooth surface of the mirror and reached for the towel, as his gaze, surprisingly even for him, lingered a little longer on the scar, hidden behind the damp snowy strands that fell on his forehead, and then slowly moved to his neck, eyes flickering worryingly under the blinding light of the bright lamps. He cautiously, as if he were afraid of himself, brought his hand to his neck, tracing the damaged skin with his fingertips and swallowing heavily. He reluctantly lowered his gaze to his chest, staring with revulsion at the vertical scar that so distinctly marked his pale skin.

He shook his head a few times, as if driving away the ghosts of his past, and nestled his head into the soft cloth of the terry towel, gently removing the residue of water from his face. Finally, he lifted his head and flinched slightly, meeting your gaze in the reflection.

"Spying on me?" he immediately turned around, in a moment replacing his startled grimace with his usual wide grin.

"Me? Never," you smiled sheepishly, not expecting to be caught red-handed, and opened the door wider, taking a couple of timid steps in his direction.

"I thought you were already in bed, you little liar," Satoru smirked boyishly, holding out his arms and inviting you into his warm embrace.

"I couldn't sleep without you, so I thought I'd see what you were doing here without me," you teased, wrapping your arms around his strong body and gently stroking his back.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, nothing to make you feel neglected," he joked, sounding as confident as possible, but his eyes brimmed with all the colors of unrestrained sadness.

You slapped his back playfully, bursting into hearty laughter and burying your nose into his naked chest. His strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you even tighter against him as his lips left a light kiss on your head. Your palm slowly caressed his silky skin, tracing intricate patterns with your fingertips, feeling the hundreds of goosebumps running all over his body. You smiled, your index finger now drawing a small heart just where his heart was beating beneath it. Satoru shook his head, laughing softly and rolling his eyes, "You're so cheesy," but you could still feel his slender, long fingers leaving little hearts on every millimeter of your skin for several minutes now. You smiled blissfully, allowing yourself to melt into his tender embrace, forgetting time and plans, feeling only the comfort of his warmth enveloping you from head to toe and his heart beating right under your cheek.

You gently touched his deep scar, like a scorched mark resting on his flawless, soft-white skin. Satoru's breath hitched as he shuddered at the sudden sensation.

"Does it hurt?" a soft whisper, coming from your lips and fanning his chest with your hot breath, reached his ears.

"Of course not, silly, it has long since healed," he looked at you perplexedly, his eyebrows drawn into a thin line.

"No, does it hurt?" you stressed the last word, lifting your head and gazing into his wide-open hypnotic orbits, hoping that he would understand what you implied in that question.

His lips quivered, and his eyes flickered frantically over your face, trying to figure out if he should voice what had been languishing inside for so long. Small but obvious wrinkles appeared on his forehead, giving his face an even more baffled expression.

"Yeah...' he forcefully uttered the answer that was stuck in his throat, 'sometimes I feel his knife going through me all over again…,' his hand slowly covered yours, stroking your knuckles.

"Right...," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his and squeezing his hand lightly, in hopes of showing that you could understand him.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm a kid again and I relive all this stuff over and over again, isn't that silly?" he chuckled sadly, hiding his eyes, in which you could notice snippets of the suffering he had seen throughout his life. It seemed as if, as he uttered these words, he indeed turned into a little boy, only the mischievous smile that everyone around him was so used to seeing had now faded, and his eyes no longer burned with such a vibrant light.

"It's not stupid at all," you lovingly brushed his hair away from his forehead, gently stroking his cheekbone, "I wish I was there to protect you from everything," you admitted sincerely.

"You know I would have done anything to prevent that," Satoru gently took your hand, leaving an appreciative kiss on your palm.

You nodded, knowing it was useless to argue with him, just hugged him a little tighter, while gently caressing his tense back muscles. You knew how hard he was trying not to reveal his true emotions to you, to keep cool, but it was his hands that were nervously rubbing the fabric of yours, or rather his T-shirt, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest heave so anxiously that made it all abundantly clear.

"I often wonder what that little boy I once used to be would have said to me after knowing how much pain and death those eyes had seen, what he would have thought when he saw that with every step I took there were bloody footprints on the ground, stretching endlessly behind me, how he would have felt when he noticed those scars, evidence that I had let it happen to him" he continued after a pause, burying his nose in your hair.

"He would have been proud of you," you uttered quietly, "after finding out what you had learned and what else those magic eyes could do, he would have admired seeing what your body, now adorned with a pair of battle marks, was capable of, he would have thanked you when he realized how many people you had saved. And he thanks you now for the way you protect him, because he still lives in you."

Satoru fell silent, holding his breath, heeding every single word that he felt was healing his wounds, kissing all the pain away. He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes, and exhaled softly.

You caressed his side reassuringly, leaving a kiss on his shoulder, "I just know little Satoru feels safe now."

"Yeah, with you, little Satoru feels at home.”

***

The silent, dark night was replaced by a bright morning, filled with the peals of the birds, causing the sleeping moon to give way to the brilliant sun, illuminating the soft features of Satoru, who had fell asleep on your chest, with its gentle golden rays. The warm blanket he had so carefully wrapped you in before you went to sleep almost slid to the floor, his arm lazily wrapped around your waist while your legs were entwined, preventing you from moving. You smiled earnestly, fingertips stroking his soft skin and once again covering his body with little hearts, while your lips were leaving little kisses here and there. Your heart was full, realizing with its every beat that your whole world was encased in this one person. You lay there quietly, staring at his slightly fluttering white lashes and hoping that in one of the parallel universes you had somehow met sooner, and both little Satoru and little you knew no worries, faithfully carrying your love through life, holding tightly to each other with your intertwined pinkies.

thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated! <3

art and dividers are not mine <3

tags: @shamelessperfectionhideout @afortoru @keiskyutie @vagabond-umlaut @4sat0ruu @softsatoru @mitsuyeaah @playgrl0 @moonsinfonia @a-nuisance-called-sam @gojoshooter

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojou #jjk satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo x yn #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #satoru angst #i needed this after the mess gege caused today #so this is extremely self-indulgent

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lick-me-lennon22 · 2 months

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How they'd comfort you after a SH episode

(thank you to anon for this request!! I know this is a sensitive subject for many so I understand the decision to skip this one ❣️ those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy!)

⚠️⚠️⚠️ TW: SELF-HARM ⚠️⚠️⚠️

John

John is immediately panicked and uneasy at the sight of you this way

he's seen his fair share of blood, but never that of someone he loves so dearly

for once he's at a loss, no longer his usual smooth and confident self

he stumbles over his words and mumbles reassurances under his breath, hoping to provide you some sense of comfort while he gets his thoughts in order

he knows this isn't something he can joke his way around

John cleans and bandages you up, having done the same for himself countless times following the frequent fights of his youth

he gives you one of his T-shirts to borrow and settles onto the bed next to you

he shares his own thoughts and struggles with you, wanting you to feel less alone

John doesn't have much to offer in the way of coping strategies or outlets, as he isn't exactly the best at managing his own emotions

instead he rubs your back and shushes you, rambling and sharing mindless stories to take your mind off of things until you're able to drift off to sleep

Paul

Paul's doe eyes fill with tears at the sight of your fresh wounds, threatening to spill over before he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves

he mentally scolds himself, knowing he has to hold it together so as not to upset his beloved any further

he takes a gentle and nurturing approach the delicate situation at hand, slowly stepping closer to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder

Paul offers endless words of reassurance, telling you how beautiful you are and reminding you that you're the light of his life and the strongest person he knows

he helps you clean up if you allow him, gingerly patting your skin with a dampened cloth

he places gentle kisses on your forehead and strokes your hair, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears as he finally lets his own slip down his ruddy cheeks

when you're clean and settled into bed, Paul picks up his guitar and begins to strum

he plays you a soothing melody, hoping the soft chords and lilt of his voice will lull you to sleep so you can rest and recover

George

George approaches the situation with a calm but serious demeanor

he is deeply concerned for you, but understands your pain and doesn't want to push you to open up to him before you're ready

he soaks a washcloth in cool water and dabs it on your skin to clean you up

he'll fetch you a clean set of clothing to make sure you're comfortable and cared for

though he doesn't want to pry, a quiet voice in his head urges him to help you work through your overwhelming emotions

the man of few words suddenly finds much to say, offering wisdom from his own spiritual practices and beliefs

he emphasizes the importance of finding inner peace and grounding yourself before granting you some time to process his words

when you're ready, George walks you through a guided meditation and some mindful breathing techniques, hoping to bring you some peace of mind

Ringo

Ringo is devastated and doesn't quite understand the situation or what may have led you to do this

he wonders how the one he adores so much could ever want to cause such harm to themselves

he offers to do or bring you anything you need, desperate to remedy the situation

he rifles through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, finally coming across a small metal tin

Ringo rushes over to kneel by your side and begins to place the adhesive bandages over your wounds

being the supportive partner he is, he's so blinded by his dedication to caring for you that he doesn't seem to notice the bandages are far too small

when he gets to the fifth one you fail to stifle a laugh, amused by his determination to make them fit

his face lights up when he hears you laugh - the most melodic sound he could ever imagine

he tries to cheer you up with his usual nonsensical Ringo-isms, lightening your mood and easing your worries with talk of silly fantasies and reminders of your happiest memories together

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avocado-writing · 2 years

Note

Fluffy holiday prompts: n.8 if you like :-) ? Thank you, you splendid human being!!!

8) candlelight confessions

“Tan, really, just leave it -”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve almost got it,” he snaps, then immediately gets a little shock and shouts, “fuck!”

You roll your eyes behind his back and readjust your grip on the torch. Your fuse box blew and, with it being so close to the holidays, getting an electrician to come round was both difficult and expensive. When you mentioned it to Tangerine via text he appeared within the half hour.

Tangerine is many things, but a handyman is not one of them. You’re not sure how much longer you can sit and watch him torture himself with your electrics.

“Well at least give it a break. I’ll make you a cup of tea?” you suggest. You’re lucky your stove is gas-powered so you can heat up the kettle on the hob. Tangerine relents and follows you, sulking at the table as you use your torch to navigate your kitchen in the dark. You hum quietly to yourself, little festive melodies, filling the quiet with your tuneful trilling. You place his mug down in front of him - barely milky, no sugar, you know how he likes it - and get an idea.

“Oh, hang on,” you say, rummaging in one of the corner cabinets and bringing out some old candles you’ve amassed over the years. You set them in the middle of the table and try to flick your lighter to life.

“Give it here,” Tan says after watching you fail, his fingers warm against yours as he takes over. Soon the candles are flickering and casting shadows over the walls around you. It’s quite nice, really, and saves battery power.

You take a sip of your tea and admire Tangerine across the table. He’s dressed down, as far as Tangerine does. Just in a t-shirt and jeans. He removed his jumper when he got here, and you can see the way his muscles test his sleeves. You hope he doesn’t catch you staring.

“It’s alright Tan, I’ll just get someone over in a few days. It ain’t the end of the world.”

“Well you can’t live in the fucking dark, can you? And you’ll be freezing, it’s almost fucking snowing out there.”

“I can wrap up,” you reason. Tangerine doesn’t seem happy with that, studying you from over the rim of his mug.

The candlelight flickers. His eyes dance with it.

“… you could come and stay with me.”

Your heart gives a silly little skip in your chest.

“What?”

“Ah fuck, don’t make me say it again,” he groans, running his hand over his face. It’s as close to shy as he can get. But you’re still not quite sure you heard him correctly.

“Do you… want me to stay with you?”

He smooths down his moustache. Fiddles with the rings on his fingers.

“Yes,” he confesses quietly. And you get a feeling his answer pertains to more than just the coming days.

“…Okay.”

He hides his smile behind his tea, but you still catch it.

#Tangerine x reader #holiday prompts

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hyvckbearr · 1 year

Text

Deepest Desire ♡ Incubus!Donghyuck X College!Mark

sub!mark, dom!hyuck , kind of mild smut , there’s plot if you squint

warnings: anal sex.. thats it.

He occupied Mark’s every thought.

Haunted his dreams, he was beautiful. A few dreams in he didn’t question it, but he was getting tired of seeing the man that looked like he was sculpted by a greek artist, with his skin the color of caramel fudge appearing over and over again.

Another day done, Mark’s “thrilled” for his sleep today, hoping for no more of those dreams.

The canadian boy snapped his eyelids together, letting out a breath in his bed.

Not in deep sleep yet, but all Mark can think about is him. His deep brown eyes and pouty lips meeting his neck, his soft, high voice whispering things he can’t remember.

Then his thoughts were interrupted by a hand caressing his face. It was him, the man, in a black shirt with a sown window revealing his sunkissed chest. The black shirt reached around to his back, which Mark felt as he stroked it with his cold hands.

“You.. Your not real, are you-? This is a dream, right? A dream like that other time,” He whispered throwing all his theories of who he might be away.

“I am real, Mark. You know I’m real, because I’m your deepest desire.”

The man said as Mark’s eyes widened in confusion, and disbelief still.

“I know you hide so much things. You show yourself as the good boy, the talented, innocent one. Sure, talented maybe, but they all know.” He made Mark shudder.

“They all know the things you imagined me doing to you, it’s obvious, but you choose to hide it. Because, why not? Why not still be seen as the good boy?”

Mark drooled, and wiped his mouth away as the man pushed his chin up with his finger. His words almost made Mark forget what he wanted to say about him.

“Now, are you gonna be a real good boy and listen to your master?” He breathed.

Mark panted, sweat dripping off his body, not just his face, which was a shade of soft pink.

“Yes.. but- but don’t be too loud, my friend lives next door, and these walls are thin..” his breath hitched onto the tanned man.

“I’m Donghyuck by the way.” he clarified, but Mark was already through sliding his boxers down with his eyes shut.

His hand reached for Mark’s thighs to spread his legs apart. Hyuck licked his lips inspecting how hard he was, (very, VERY hard.)

Donghyuck slicked his red thong off and halted still for a moment.

“Turn around. On your back.” he ordered, and Mark did it in an instant.

Kisses were placed from the top of Mark’s spine on downwards making him shiver at the sensation.

“That feels so fucking good..” he gasped.

“Have you got any lube, baby boy?” Donghyuck asked in a melodic voice.

Mark whined and nodded his head, giving Hyuck a “get on with it” stare.

He picked up the lube from Mark’s white side cabinet and squirted some on his hand. After he rubbed the thick, transparent substance on Mark’s anus.

He squirmed as Donghyuck prepared himself for the last time. Mark peeked at Hyuck’s cock from behind, it was smooth and hard like his own.

He inserted it, letting out a loud squeak, Mark arched his back, then relaxed it after the first push inside.

Hyuck’s groans were music to Mark’s ears, each one of them was musical, like a sweet melody. He pushed up and down the inside of the boy, they both panted, each dripping buckets of sweat.

Mark moaned loudly, even if he had told the other to be quiet, he decided to be a hypocrite today. The loudness made Hyuck push harder than before getting stronger with every push,

“T-too f-fast~” Mark whimpered as tears formed in his eyes. He tried to slow Donghyuck down, but he was too hungry for more.

No matter how fast they were going, Mark was in pure bliss.

“I’m close cutie, do you wanna cum with me?” Hyuck murmured.

Mark nodded repeatedly, chanting the words “Yes, yes!” over and over, the more he got the needier he was. Donghyuck rubbed Mark’s back as a signal he was ready.

Then he shot out a load of white substance into Mark, making him let out a high pitched scream.

“Ah-! Fuck Donghyuck- fucking hell..” he panted relaxing his back face down into his pillow covered in a puddle of drool.

Hyuck started to get his energy back, feeling rejuvenated almost.

“Hey baby boy, you can tick off the “get fucked by an incubus” off your bucket list~”

Mark sighed proudly, feeling as if he’d accomplished something great.

“But don’t tell anyone, alright baby?” Hyuck whispered.

———

“Guess what Aeri! Last night, I saw an Incubus!”

“Yea and we definitely all believe that..” Johnny and Aeri looked at each other.

#lee donghyuck #markhyuck #mark lee #incubus au #incubus #inspired by meru the succubus #kpop smut #kpop #smut #markhyuck smut #mentions of giselle

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neonlight2 · 2 years

Text

My police man | Patrick x Tom, Patrick x platonic!OC

Warning: femxfem SMUT/ implied homophobia— it’s the 50’s

A/n: Based off of the movie “My Policeman”, which is based off the book. You can imagine the characters as the actors if you wish or not, you do you.

The room consisted of three sounds, all encompassing. The first, one would notice when walking into the grander looking apartment— filled with character and personalities contrasting together— is the humming hymn and melody of Elvis Presley. This in itself was obscene, yet not a crime. That much could not be said for the other two sounds.

The second sound was that of pure obscenity. Sputtering breaths, whimpering cords, and whiny moans. Muffled they were, but not enough to withstand the threshold of the living room. No, they pierce through the opening without care. However, the music kept it away from the exiting door’s archway.

And the third… it could have been described as even more immoral. Profuse, blunt noise of wetness covered the room. Good god the scene could have drove anyone mad, whether it be from anger or lust one must decide for themself.

Here they were, two women, the causes of such exuberant delight. Both tangled on top of the plush sofa. One laid on her back, whilst the other had her way with her, teasing, prodding, and enveloping senses someone could only ever dream of. Unfortunately it seemed the poor girl, who arched her back enough to be a bridge, dream would not last— popped by a man in great despair.

Clicking the door open in seconds, frantic for some time of support or serendipity, Patrick entered his flat with a mission set in his mind. He had come home, after a day of unexpected events. Things that swarmed his thoughts; a man who enraptured his attention. Oh and the tragedy of it all, for the beauty to catch his eye, the uniqueness in which snagged his heart— all sourced from a policeman. Without lifting a finger the boy in blue manage to jail him. The only concern of Patrick’s, nonetheless, was for how long was his sentence to be?

He scrambled in, slamming the door with his foot, while yanking fallen strands of hair from his face continuously. A moment was spared, though barely so, for placing his belongings onto a rack and table. Patrick had always hated careless messes; he often joked that he acted more like the wife than his companion ever could or would. She never was one for keeping things clean.

Speaking of such…

“A bit of warning next time.” Patrick say coarsely, stomping over to the liquor cabinet. A glimpse of bare skin, far too light to be his other half, made his eyes latch onto anywhere else in the house. Though nudity was not much of a taboo for the two, he gave the unfamiliar body as much respect as possible in a scenario as this.

Humming amused, the brunette flattens her tongue against the other woman’s wetness— sending her into a trembling frenzy. “Someone’s angry.”

The conversion not acknowledged to her and the vibration running down her spine, brought the euphoric woman out of her daze, shooting up to cover her flush breast. Her chest roses rapidly, beyond terrified of the consequences plaguing her thoughts.

Frowning shortly, the brunette’s hazel eyes found her lover’s blue. “It’s okay darling he’s one of us.”

Slowly, delicate fingers wrap around the woman’s calves, tracing along the skin with a trail of raised follicles to follow. “Or perhaps I should say the opposite?” She joked, fingers directing upward, almost reaching her heat, tantalizingly close enough to draw out a whimper. “We can stop if you wish.”

She peaked over at a seemingly fuming stranger, who paid no mind at all. Patrick was preoccupied pouring himself a scotch as he usually does around this time, just with more fervor.

Shaking her head sporadically, the brunette smirks with triumphant. “Oh, someone’s an exhibitionist.” She teases, cockiness soaked into her words as she continues to worships the woman beneath her.

The very accusation brought forth an abundance of whines and mewls, and the poor thing wasn’t able to stand the overstimulation for much longer. Let alone her lovers calculated fingers which curled perfectly snug. Soon, the brunette had to clamp her hand atop her victims mouth.

“Now, now love. Although I admire your boldness, you’re playing on the dangerous side now.” She whispered hastily against her neck, peppering kiss along the way.

“You’re such a cocky bastard, Mae.” Patrick scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked for his sketch paper in the midst of a mess— one would think a hurricane had run through here.

Humming once more, causing her lover to writhe beneath the vibration, she pulls back to stare at her good work. Locking her gaze, so tantalizing warm, with a deep blue; she smiles sweetly, too sweet. Suddenly her fingers pace increase and her thumb starts to rub, causing illicit profanities to spill from the woman’s mouth and a patronizing pout to cross Maeve’s face. She basks in pride as the woman beneath her falls apart, muttering and whimpering incoherent babble.

Finally, with no warning, Maeve bends down to nip at her thighs. This cuts the thread which once held the woman’s sanity, allowing her body to fall into an abyss of pleasure. From her head to her toes, she tingles with ecstasy. Oh and how she trembled as Maeve continued to tease her sweet spot. Slowly in efforts to torment, she watched as her lover’s stomach shivered and quirked until eventually she pushes her hand away.

Sighing, Maeve conceded begrudgingly— opting to clean her fingers as a consolation. “Alright, pour me a glass darling. Lord knows I’m gonna need it with what you’ve done.”

“Says the one half naked.” Patrick quips, throwing a robe he had found among the array of clothing sporadically thrown on the ground at her while grabbing another glass. “Would your friend like one?”

“She has a name,” Maeve states in a mocking, insulted tone.

“Well, when or if she tells me it, I’ll call her such,”Patrick exhales whilst handing his friend a glass practically halfway full, back still facing the bare duo.

Maeve smiles wickedly as she slips the robe on smoothly, letting it occasionally fall of her shoulder without care. Her hand reaches out for the glass in delight, showing off the pairs matching simple, gold bands decorating their left-ring finger. However, she had another sitting right above it, chunkier than it’s sibling and jeweled with a rough amethyst.

“You know her, my darling husband.” Maeve purred, propping her knee onto the arm of the couch to lean her weight obnoxiously on Patrick’s shoulder.

“Oh?” He inquired, playing along with Maeve’s antics; he knew very well it’d only grow worse if he didn’t indulge her. “Do I miss?”

“Mrs,” Maeve whispers lowly, and Patrick could feel the grin hidden in the fabric of his vest.

“Maeve!”

Wincing, she rubs the bridge of her nose on Patrick’s shoulder before ripping away to down the liquid acid. “Don’t yell at me,” she said, pointing at woman who was dressing as fast as humanly possible, “I didn’t say your name, and I’m pretty sure that you don’t even remember it yourself, seeing as how much you’ve been screaming mine for the past two hours—,”

Patrick makes a gagging sound, causing Maeve to smack his arm harshly. “And you!” She pokes his chest in an accusatory spirit as they meet eyes. “I don’t even want to hear it, ‘Mr. Falls for every pretty face he sees’.”

Quirking an eyebrow up quickly, Patrick nods. “Two peas and a pod we are my Monet.”

Huffing exasperatedly, she caves and smiles at him dimly. “So who is he?”

Patrick groans dramatically, remembering why he was drinking in the first place. “Fuck, I’ve done it this time.”

Snorting, Maeve pours more liquor into his glass while sipping some herself. “You always do.”

“Stop doing that! It’s unsanitary.” He scolds, yanking the bottle away from her.

“So is fucking on the couch, but that doesn’t stop either of us, does it?”

There’s a thump that catches Maeve’s attention, causing her eyes to grow wide and her legs scurry. “You don’t have to go.” Whining, she steals the shoe off the ground, where her lover had tried to put it on.

The woman scoffs her, who had previously been a cocky and meticulous being, now looking at her with large puppy eyes and a hanging bottom lip— bit and bruised bright red. “Yes, I do.”

“Why?” Maeve retorted back like a pitiful infant.

“Because I have children.”

Exhaling through her nose, Maeve hands over the black heel. A detesting expression still imprinted into her face. “I hate your husband.”

Smiling shortly the woman gives Maeve a small peck on the lips. “You and me both. See you later, my temptress.”

“A married woman,” Patrick comments after hearing the door click, turning to stare at his friend. “How’d you manage to get away with that?”

Shrugging, Maeve plops back onto the couch manspread without a single card if she’s exposed. “Her husband has been cheating on her for a while, and I offered her the delight of returning the favor.”

“And she works for me?”

“With. She’s not your secretary.” She states beckoning him to sit in the empty seat above her head.

Patrick takes her offer willingly, gathering her hair gently and putting it to the side before sitting down. For a moment, head laid back and eyes sealed shut, Patrick tries to calm the thumping in his head, his chest, his lungs. Then he uttered the words…

“A policeman.”

There were few seconds of silence, to which Patrick found to good to be true. He quickly saw he was right when he opened his eyes, gaze immediately caught by hers. He hadn’t even noticed her move, but there she was— sat upright, face inches away from his, searching for the joke. But there wasn’t one.

“Jesus Christ,” she whispers, genuine disbelief— or was it pity? Patrick couldn’t tell.

“Of all the bloody options,” Maeve shakes her head, eyes drifting to the back of her head as she wheezed. Twisting with tense muscles, she groans as her head lands in his lap. Rubbing her eyes roughly, she finally quips, “And you call me reckless.”

This makes him snort, watching as her eyes bounce from the ceiling light, to the tables filled with paper and books, then to the portraits on the wall. In a way Patrick felt guilty, but he couldn’t help the way these things happen. She knew that.

Lightly tapping her hands as they began to pick at their cuticles, Patrick says, “Stop worrying. That’s my job.”

She lets out a breathy chuckle, gulping back her intrusive thoughts and endless overthinking. “I’m not.” She lied. “I’m just trying to figure out how the hell you can be so daft. I mean— it’s not like there not in uniform all the time or wear blue suits with tall ass helmets— oh wait!”

Rolling his eyes, Patrick cracks a smile. “Again, we’re two peas in a pod.”

Maeve holds her arms out like scales as she squints her face comedically. “Married women or policemen. Mhm, married woman— Policeman.”

“Fine, fine, fine. You’re the smartest today.”

“Stop being a prick and just tell me about him already.” Maeve retorts, hitting his chest with the back of her hand.

A delightful exhale leaves poor Patrick’s lips as an image of the man he met appears in his mind. Then a grin follows not to far after remembering how he spoke, acted, smiled.

“Good god, you’re already in the deep in.” She huffed, sympathy and happiness tangled into a tight knot within her heart as she observed her closest companion. “We’re fucked.”

“Hopefully— ow. Why must you insist on hurting me?”

“Why must you always avoid answering the question? At least tell me the boy in blues name for gods sake!”

Patrick becomes a smiling mess when the man’s name comes to mind, bubbling at the bridge of his tongue. “Tom.”

Scrunching up her nose, Maeve remarks, “Sounds old fashion.”

She squeals as Patrick jumps up suddenly, who demands her to stay in place. “But I guess that will change in time. Do you think he’ll ever let us call him Tommy—? Patrick what the hell are you—?”

“Stay.” He orders, balancing himself on the cushions below his feet, staring at her from above with pencil and sketchbook in hand. “Do that face that you just made.”

“What face?”

“Can you not fight me this once.”

“But I’ll get wrinkles!” Maeve whines dramatically.

“You age like wine darling, now be a good wife and do as your told.” Patrick teases.

“Ha! Say please.”

“Please.” He asks, puckered lip out.

Rolling her eyes, she scrunches her nose like she had before. “Why of all the faces do you have to draw me with this one?”

“Well for one, more detail.” Patrick reply’s, wrist moving quickly along the page. “And I need to capture this moment.”

“And why is that?” She asked, watching him work quizzically.

“Because this is the moment before we let someone else into our tiny world.”

***

A/n: there will be more parts, not totally accurate to the movie cause— Maeve doesn’t stay to a script.

But requests for specific scenes/ situation can be made and are encouraged.

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piracytheorist · 1 year

Text

Macabre Theme and Variations (13/15)

Fandom: Spy x Family Word count: 6.7k for this chapter | 62k so far | 65k in total Rating: T Warnings: Non-permanent character deaths, graphic violence

Summary: Twilight wakes up. He works on his mission. He dies. He comes back and does it all over again. Each time a little different. (Inspired by the film Happy Death Day)

Warning for this chapter: Graphic violence

AO3 Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

Chapter 13: Da Capo al Coda pt.2

Knock knock.

His two hesitant taps on Yor’s door echo in the vast silence of the house. It’s only ten minutes before noon and Bond sits beside him, tail moving slowly as if he’s holding back his excitement about a possible walk.

“I’ll be right out,” Yor says, and he moves to the end of the corridor to wait for her. She comes out in the same clothes she wore that morning; he doesn’t know why he expected her to wear something special. He certainly changed his clothes, and now feels almost embarrassed he did.

However, Yor doesn’t comment on the change. She takes a look at Bond, whose tail is now moving faster, and she reaches in a cabinet to retrieve his leash. “Shall we?”

He takes her to the bakery, watches her buy an apple tart while he gets the milk cream strudel. He tells her about how that is Loid’s favourite pastry, not his.

“And what is your favourite pastry?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spent a lot of time ever thinking about the things I like.” He has a wistful look on his face. “I don’t even remember my favourite meals that my mother used to make. There must have been something I liked.”

“You’ve always pretended for this job, haven’t you?” her voice is low, careful.

He stays silent.

“You once told me I should be myself, because pretending all the time can be exhausting. Are you taking this to heart now?”

His shoulders hunch. “I always took it to heart. I just felt it didn’t matter.”

“What didn’t matter?” She pauses to swallow her bite. “You?”

He feels a blush on his face as he gives her a side glance. Once again, a crumb has stuck on her lower lip and it draws his attention. He manages a smile this time.

“What?” Yor says, blushing too.

“You have a small crumb right here.” She wipes it away and he adds, “It was there last time we did this, too.”

She looks down, focusing on her tart as a distraction. “Is that when…”

“No. There’s still a little more left.”

They finish eating in silence, then they follow the sound of the music. Yor watches the musician with interest, but then understanding crosses her features when she looks at Loid.

“We came here,” she says.

He should feel upset by himself for how much his face betrays. He should fight it, or at least let disappointment strike him, but instead he only feels the whim to let that wave drag him wherever it wants.

They turn their attention back to the musician; he bows to his audience, deflates the bandoneón and plays the valse.

Loid’s throat feels dry. “We danced that song,” he whispers to her. From the corner of his eye he sees her turn to him, and it’s almost painful to hold himself back from reaching out for her.

He closes his eyes, letting the words sink in him again.

I don’t know if what I feel is love, I don’t know if it’ll be an infatuation, I only know that when I don't see you, sorrow prowls through my heart.

I don’t know what your eyes have done to me, that upon staring at me they kill me with love, I don’t know what your lips have done to me, that upon kissing my lips, I forget the pain.

Before he knows it, he’s softly humming the melody.

His vision is blurry with tears when he opens his eyes again at the end of the song. He blinks them away and sees the musician look at the two of them. Yor’s breath catches at the stare and she turns her gaze away, but Loid returns the look.

That song has been exposing him like an open book; no wonder the musician always had a knowing expression on his face.

“That was wonderful. Thank you,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket for his wallet. Yor also takes out hers, but freezes when she sees the amount Loid drops in the man’s box.

“Sir…” the man says.

Loid doesn’t say anything. He only smiles and bows his head at him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Yor is looking at Loid with wide eyes. Suddenly she seems embarrassed by the two single dalc coins in her hand.

She clears her throat, clenching her fist around the coins. “Can you give me a moment?” she says.

Loid steps back, putting enough distance from them but still turns to watch as Yor, her back on him, approaches the musician and tells him something.

Instinctively, Loid’s eyes go for the man’s lips, attempting to read what he says. He only catches an “of course” before guilt makes him look away.

After a few moments, his eye catches Yor dropping a few more coins in the musician’s box. Loid straightens up when she walks to him without looking at his eyes, waiting for their next move.

“Did I dance badly?” Yor asks on their way to the top of the park. “I’ve never really had lessons.”

“You were wonderful. This kind of dance is all about chemistry and communication. Not every couple has that, even professional dancers.”

“Where did you learn to dance?”

His mouth twists into a small grimace.

“Was it for a mission?”

“I’ve received training in multiple subjects, so I was fairly acquainted with this art, but yes, once a mission demanded I learned such dances.”

They stand at the top of the park. His hand is once again resting on the rail, but he doesn’t dare hope Yor will hold it this time. Instead, she holds Bond’s leash with both hands and rests them close to her body.

“It was here,” he says. “You thanked me for spending time with you, and at the sight of your gratitude I couldn’t stop myself from talking about the loop. I told you I felt guilty because I wanted a memory of you being happy because of me.”

And then you told me you’re already happy.

“Then I asked you what you would do if there were no consequences to your actions.” He turns to her. “And you kissed me.”

She closes her eyes, squinting slightly. “What was I thinking?” she says, mostly to herself, he guesses.

“You… you said it was a mistake to act so rashly. But you didn’t seem to regret the kiss. You only worried about having exposed your feelings to me.” That Yor wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t responded to her kiss. Her worry came from him actually responding. “And because I kissed you back, you felt guilty because you felt as if you used me to test the waters.”

She whines in complaint.

“You tried to save me that day.” He looks away for a moment, remembering how she fought Pollux… how her dead body dropped to the ground… “I think you wanted to retain the memories of that day so much that you were willing to risk exposing your real job to me.”

After a long moment of silence she says, “That sounds like something I would do. In the yesterday I remember, at least.”

His teeth clench as a wave of guilt washes over him. How much she cared for him, and how blind he was to it. “I’m sorry, Yor,” he says. “You don’t owe me anything. Much less the conflicted feelings you must have now.”

“It’s alright. I asked for this.”

“Truth is, I don’t really know what to do with myself. I’ve spent so long focusing on my job, needing to forget myself to do it right that I’m not sure I know who I am. Do you remember what you told me, the first time you brought us here? How coming here reminds you what you’re working hard for?” He looks at the people walking by on the streets below. “This is what I’m working hard for too. I see people live lives they call ‘normal’, without the fear of war looming over their heads.” He pauses. “I can’t afford that. I can’t in good conscience put anything else above that, because I don’t want anyone to end up like me.”

Struggling to heal his old wounds through seeing other people never get so hurt in the first place.

“Why you in particular? Do you hold others to such standards?”

“No. Because I had nothing to lose.” Had. “And because I can fight, and learn, and adapt, quicker than most people I’ve seen. Not something I take pride in, but I knew it was important for this job, and I knew I qualified.” He grasps at the rail. “I wouldn’t be able to sit by knowing I can do something to help. I hadn’t realized how deeply you would relate to that, until I found out about your secret.” He turns to her, forcing his hands to relax. “I just… I guess I felt I didn’t have anything left that gave me worth. I was good and determined at my job. And I’ve allowed that to lead me through. Even if I had to hurt innocent people’s feelings.”

“The misery of one for the happiness of many, right?”

He looks down. “Exactly.”

“And what changed with us?”

“I’ve always started relationships based on lies. And though I also lied to you, so much, I didn’t have to lie about how I felt about you.” He turns forward, staring at his hands. “I guess I had no idea how many feelings that would allow to develop. I—I was suspicious of you, once, and I put a listening device on you.”

He keeps looking away, but it’s not enough to not feel the daggers her eyes are throwing at him. She’d certainly throw him actual daggers if she had any on hand…

“I didn’t hear anything too personal.” He sighs. “Not that that’s an excuse, but… I have so much to come clean to you about… But even before I realized there was nothing to suspect you for, I still felt guilty for doubting you.”

“Noble of you,” she says.

He looks at her, welcoming the sting of her glare. “That’s the thing, Yor. Your kindness and compassion makes me feel unworthy, knowing how I’ve been treating you. The second time I relived this day on this loop, I simply thought I had a nightmare where I died at the end. The third time I ended up considering it all a trap. I was so rude with you, believing you had tricked me, and at the end of that day you tried to save my life.” An empty laugh escapes him. “I think that broke me. After all the poor treatment you didn’t deserve, you gave me a treatment that was far better than I could ever deserve. So I had to choose between leaving and working to deserve that. Being trapped in the loop doesn’t allow me to leave, and at this point I wish I don’t have to leave, so I was left with only one choice.”

His gaze turns away as he leans forward, feeling exhausted, empty, and so vulnerable he wishes he could roll himself into a ball.

Eventually, Yor says, “I won’t report you.”

His eyes snap back at her.

“I used you the same way you used me,” she continues. “I needed cover and you provided it. As long as you don’t pose a threat to that cover, I have no reason to change things.”

“You'll stay...?” It comes out way more hopeful than he expected.

She catches the tone and gives him a dismissive look. “Not for you. I can still make use of this position. And Anya needs me.”

He can't help feeling glad she's confident in her place in Anya's heart. “Thank you,” he says, then composes himself. “You don't have to make any rash decisions. I had a lot of time to adjust to knowing about you. I had an unfair advantage over you, so... you can take your time keeping distance.”

Her gaze softens, though it's still harsh enough against his exposed soul.

“You don’t ever have to make a decision. I’ll be happy knowing Anya has you by her side,” he says.

“Why don’t you just reset this day? Why don’t you want me to forget?”

“I—“ he starts, but she interrupts him.

“You don’t trust yourself to come clean to me again?”

“No, it’s not that. I have no right to control what you do and don’t remember. Now that you know, all I can do is do my best to help you retain those memories.”

She looks into his eyes, then turns her gaze away. After a few long minutes of silence she says, “Shall we go home?”

“Yes,” he says in a breath, pushing himself off the rail.

A few minutes into their walk, Yor asks him, “About the man who’s trying to kill you, what do you know about him?”

Oh right. That.

“He’s a former spy of my agency, has been presumed dead for seven years. He lost his way and blames the agency for that, and he chose to take me down as a form of revenge.”

“And he kills you by blowing up the bombs he has strapped on him?”

“Yes.”

“But if you catch him, and he doesn't kill you, the day won't reset?”

“According to my theory, no.”

She nods. “I'll help you, then. I'll catch him for you.”

“No. I will not gamble with your life ever again.”

“Again?”

“He's already killed you twice. More, actually, but twice you died before I did.”

“How? What mistake did I do?”

“What mistake did you do?”

She takes a deep breath. Her voice is firm and steady when she speaks again. “I'm not going to let some vandal take me down. I need to know his strengths and weaknesses.”

“He's not just a random thug. He's spent the past seven years training himself to perfection just for this very day, and he already was the best spy of my agency in his years.”

“And I'm the deadliest assassin of Ostania. In ever. Tell me what I did wrong.”

He looks at her, his mind flying. The more this day passes, the more Yor shows of herself to him, and it feels new, and scary... and it makes him determined. He's not going to let that Yor disappear. “The first time, you attacked him because Anya warned you about him. She must have read his mind, but you didn't know he had bombs strapped around him, so you jumped on him and the bombs went off.”

“I came from behind and he didn't notice?”

He thinks. “It was crowded, noisy, and his attention was fully trained on me.”

“The second time?”

“You had offered to help me catch him, but I told you no. You knew about the time loop, that he uses two sets of bombs, and that he's good. That time you tried to sneak up on him. You caught him from behind and managed to hurt him, but he used you to his advantage when the sniper panicked.”

“Did he have a hold on me?”

“No. He used the hold you had on him.”

She seems almost offended at the idea. But then she says, “And you didn't know about my secret then.”

“No. But what difference does it make?”

“Tonight I'll sneak up on him from behind and we'll make sure there's noise around. Tonight it won't be Yor attacking him.”

“Don't get cocky. I've been constantly underestimating him.”

“I can make my own estimation of things, thank you very much.”

“I don't want to involve you.”

“I've already been involved. You said he managed to kill me before, and that's enough for me. And this is the first day that I know you know who I am, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then you haven't seen my full potential. Just tell me where, when, and who. I'm not waking up tomorrow not remembering any of this.”

Of course, it's not just to help him. What were you thinking?!

“Yor. I am serious about this.”

“So am I, ‘Loid’,” she says, adding emphasis to the name.

He really hasn't seen her full potential. Maybe she's right to be so confident.

“What's the worst that can happen for you? I die, you die, the day is reset, and you wake up tomorrow continuing your lies.”

“I was determined to tell you anyway,” he says, defeated.

“Well, you can spare yourself the trouble. Tell me where and when to be and how the guy looks like. It will all be settled.”

There's a dark glint in her eyes, and he suppresses a shiver.

He swallows hard, focusing back on the mission at hand. “My mistake was trying to keep my distance and shoot at him, even after seeing how good he is at dodging bullets. If we keep the bombs from going off, I can run straight at him and we can take him down together. He won't be anticipating a second person, let alone a skilled assassin. He thinks he has the element of surprise still.”

It's still hard to believe it's Yor he's having such a talk with. Though he's sure the feeling is the same on her end.

“How did I attack him?”

“You had a small, thin knife. If I didn’t know any better I’d say it was a long needle.”

She nods, undoubtedly figuring out what weapon of hers she had carried that day. “And I managed to hurt him?” she says.

“You were going for his throat. He blocked every attack.”

She lets out a quiet grunt.

“You still made him bleed,” he says, a smile spreading on his lips before he can control it, and he freezes at the face she gives him.

Did he just compliment Yor, his fake wife who was supposed to be just a civil servant, on how she managed to hurt another human being in her effort to kill him?!

She turns forward with wide eyes. “And Anya has been seeing all the violence in our minds, hasn’t she?”

“And not only our minds.”

She tightens her hold on the strap of her handbag, making the veins on her hand pop.

“Oh,” he says, and he feels a phantom pain on his chin at the memory of her kick. “If you wrap your hand around his, be careful how tight you squeeze. Make sure you don't crush the detonator. I don't know how sensitive it is, and how easily one single crease in it may detonate the explosives.”

She nods, taking note of the advice. “Are there hiding spots inside the theater hall?”

“What for?”

“I will help you. But I'm also not going to miss Anya's play. Are there any places I can hide and watch?”

“What do you mean? Why hide?”

She gives him a look as if he’s missing the obvious. “I am never spotted on the scene. You’ll tell everyone in the theater I am sick, just like I told city hall, and that I stayed home.”

“That doesn’t exactly give you an alibi.”

“But it gives me no witnesses. Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

He swallows hard. He nods in admission.

They reach home and Yor takes a look at the living room. “Have you seen how he fights?” she asks.

“Very little. Mostly when you fought him.”

She turns to him. “Could you show me?”

He freezes. Is she proposing a wrestling match? Between them?

He swallows hard, struggling to keep his voice straight. “I—I think I can.”

Slipping into more comfortable clothes, they arrange the furniture to make space in the living room. Bond sits aside, looking at them with interest.

Yor has her hair pulled back in a ponytail and twists the circular grip of a golden stiletto around her finger.

She notices how transfixed Loid is by it, and she holds it steady for him to take a good look at.

“From the day repeating over and over, to Anya’s mind-reading, to Bond’s visions of the future, I never expected I’d look upon the Thorn Princess’ weapons,” he says.

“Bond’s what?” Yor asks.

“Oh, right. Yes. Bond has visions of the future, apparently. Anya knew.” He shrugs.

Yor looks at Bond, who seems just as clueless as ever. She’s still processing the new information when Loid suddenly asks, “Wait, you’re going to use those while we train?”

She looks back at him and spins the stiletto again. “Scared, Twilight?”

He furrows his brow in determination. “You haven’t seen me at my full potential, either.”

A new smile crosses her features. Without a warning, he brings his fist forward. She dodges it easily and bends down, preparing to kick his feet from under him. He jumps up and lands safely, then simply brings his left fist in front of her face and opens it.

“Boom,” he says. “Eyes on the hand with the detonator.”

“His eyes won’t be on me,” she whispers and does a full back flip, landing on the radiator on the wall. She’s perfectly balanced on it. “Where will Twilight be?” she asks.

He turns around and at the exact moment she leaves his eyesight he hears a whoosh. He reaches back with his elbow as he turns, lowering it at the right time to avoid the blade of her stiletto piercing through the length of his arm. Her body collides with his, and though the tip of the weapon is immediately against his throat, he raises his left fist and opens it again.

“Boom,” he says breathlessly, his lips only inches away from hers.

Her warm, controlled breath lands on his face and nearly makes him dizzy.

She clears her throat. “You heard me. We will need noise.”

Reluctantly, he releases himself from her grip and turns on the radio.

“Birds, perhaps,” he says. “I’ll lure him on the roof, and we will have bird seed sprinkled on the trees around the building.”

His back on her, he waits.

It’s too late to move before her left hand grabs his. She wraps her legs around his shoulders, and her dagger flies.

It only pinches at his skin, not drawing any blood at all, but though he blocks as many attacks of hers as he can, all of them land.

He bends his knees, trying to throw her back. She unwraps her legs and spins backwards, dragging his left fist with her. She lands behind him and grabs at his hair, pulling his entire body up.

He hisses in pain; he finds his footing and starts trying for backwards punches and kicks. She lets go of his hair and grips his elbow with her arm, her knee inching too close to his crotch.

He gasps in alert and he feels her soft laugh on his ear.

“Boom?” she asks, a smile colouring her voice.

Her hand is still firmly and steadily wrapped around his. It takes all his discipline to not relax his fist and intertwine his fingers with hers.

“I have to keep him standing up,” she says. “Or the bombs may explode from the impact if he falls down, right?”

He swallows. “By now I will have approached him as well.” He notices how, despite her proximity to him, her torso isn’t touching his back.

A good thing; if their bodies were any closer she’d certainly feel how his heart is hammering inside his chest—and not just due to the adrenaline.

She lets go and he relaxes his tense muscles, letting out a deep breath. “It has to be done quickly. I have to come at him before he can throw you off of him.”

She spins the stiletto again; she gives him a look that he can only interpret as her throwing down the gauntlet.

He’s never trained to the sound of upbeat jazz before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Twenty minutes later, he declares it’s enough. “We still need to keep our strength for tonight.”

Yor puts the dagger in a sheath on her leg and helps him arrange the furniture back. He plops down on the sofa again. Perhaps a nap will do him good?

“Can we order take-out?” He rubs at his eyes. “Anya will be back very soon.” He grunts and drags his palm across his face.

She’ll be mad she missed this.

He’s proven right a little later.

“Papa and Mama fought?” Anya asks the very moment she steps foot inside the apartment.

“It was just training, Anya,” Yor says, her voice shaking with uncertainty. She looks at Loid, as if for support.

“Nerve-wracking, I know. I was also like that the first few days.”

Yor is… back to Yor. Her lips purse together now, the more conscious she becomes of Anya being able to hear her thoughts.

“Mama won't see me play?” Anya says, heartbreak contorting her face.

“Of course I will, Anya.” Yor's voice is soft. “I'll be hiding inside the theater and I'll watch the entire play. I will leave only after the curtain closes.” She places a gentle hand on Anya’s shoulder. “You’ll already be home when I come back, but can you do me a favour?”

Anya nods, happy again.

“Can you not read our minds tonight? I don’t want you to see what we’ll do.”

“I’ve seen you already, Mama.”

Yor cringes. Anya embraces her and once again, Yor turns to him for support.

“Not today,” he says, not concealing his exhaustion. He leans his head back. “If we make it to tomorrow, we’ll have plenty of time for that.”

Tomorrow.

They eat silently, Anya no wonder picking through their minds as each go through their plan again and again. It seems to be a good enough distraction from any guilt she may be feeling.

You shouldn’t feel guilty at all. I was the one who was careless, he thinks at her.

Anya asks to wear the prince costume, Loid declines.

“If it really is the last time…” How many times is he going to say that? How many times is he going to hope it is? “We need the minimum amount of attention.”

Anya nods reluctantly.

“But listen. You know Damian's parents will attend the play.”

“The bad boss!” Anya says.

“Yes. That one. But Damian won't be expecting them, and he'll freeze and forget his line when he sees them. So try and help him with that, okay?”

She nods again, then they turn at the sound of Yor’s door opening. She walks outside, wearing her sleek black dress, the one where the front of the skirt comes to the middle of her thighs while the rest trails further down her shins, undoubtedly so to allow her a wider range of movement.

He’s seen her wear this before, but not with the addition of the hairpiece adorned with golden roses and thorns crowning her scalp, or the leather stiletto boots that reach up to her thighs.

She has truly weaponized every part of her appearance as the Thorn Princess.

Anya wows at her. “You’re so cool, Mama!”

Yor blushes, but fixes the fingerless glove in her hand. “I figured it would be pointless to hide from her.”

“Get your things ready, Anya,” Loid says. “I have a few things left to settle with your mother.”

The word mother slips out so easily. It’s almost expressive of his hope.

Anya slips back to her room and Yor beckons him to her room.

An assortment of golden daggers and needles are spread all across her bed. The man that had proposed to Yor with a grenade pin ring would never have imagined such a sight in this room.

He clears his throat and gives Yor a small bag. “In here is my pistol and a spare suit I’ll change into if the one I’m wearing now gets blood on it.” The suit in the bag is the one she had complimented him for; the one he wears is almost similar, but expendable. “Leave it on the roof, right next to the door to downstairs. I’ll need to change on my way down. And don’t forget the bird seed.”

Yor nods.

He suppresses a sigh; he still wishes she’d let him handle this, but it’s not his decision anymore. She has every right to fight for a chance to remember.

She looks at him, and her eyes soften just a bit. Then they turn to her open door, and he turns as well.

Anya is staring at them, and he doesn’t need her abilities to know what she’s thinking.

Papa and Mama are flirting.

If only.

“Are you ready, Anya?” he asks.

Anya nods. The corner of her lip curves upwards in a half-smile when her attention turns to Yor.

“Let’s go, then.”

The stress he feels as he opens the front door is similar to the one he felt before they left for Anya’s admission interview. He doesn’t feel confident or certain about any of this, and absolutely everything will depend on whether or not they’re successful this time.

What is he going to do if they fail and Pollux kills him again?

He steps outside first, and before he has the time to think again that today he didn’t get the chance to kiss Yor’s hand, Yor slams the door closed and he hears the sound of keys being put in the keyhole from inside.

“Hey!” he says, knocking on the door. “What’s going on?”

He puts his ear against the door. He only hears Yor’s and Anya’s footsteps fading away.

He leans back, contemplating picking or breaking the lock, or even kicking the door open, before he realizes that this was probably Yor’s effort to have a moment alone with Anya. Of course she doesn’t trust that he would have allowed her one, had she asked.

Cold sweat drenches the back of his neck. The things that Anya might tell her…

He closes his eyes, putting his fist against his closed mouth. The Twilight he knew wouldn’t simply break the door open and barge in on their moment to stop Anya from talking; he would walk to Pollux with open arms in order to undo this entire day.

It would be so easy, too. No-one would have to know, if he controlled his thoughts properly when around Anya.

He would know. He would have to go on with the thought of how he mistreated the people he claimed to love.

He stands in front of the door, struggling to keep the dark thoughts at bay.

Consequences, Loid. Learn to live with them.

The door finally opens, just enough for a smiling Anya to slip outside.

What did you tell her?

Anya’s smile turns a little nervous, but she takes his hand in hers and leads him down the hall.

Are you just going to keep silent? My heart is going to burst from the stress.

“Don’t worry, Papa,” she says. “Mama is good too.”

Well, he knows that. He’s seen her kindness. But it’s that very kindness that makes him fear he’s unworthy of her.

“She only asked me if you told her any lies today.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“That you told her the truth.”

And was she happy about that? Wait, no, don’t answer. I don’t want to know from you. It’s unfair.

He keeps holding Anya’s hand on the way. She not only brought them together as a fake couple, she’s been trying all along to make them a real couple.

His sly six-year-old wingman. Or is it five?

He goes backstage with Anya. He prepares to leave when she’s ready, but she jumps and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Good luck, Papa,” she whispers.

He gently pats her on the back. I wish you didn’t have to know about any of this.

She squeezes him harder.

“’Sokay, Papa,” she says.

This doesn’t feel okay.

He leans back, giving her a tired smile with one last pat on her shoulder. “Good luck to you too. And remember what I told you about Damian’s line.”

“Yup.”

Loid then mingles with the other parents like he did the very first day of the loop.

This is the day Donovan Desmond will remember; considering his entire reason for attending this play is to test whether Loid – or any other spy – would try to approach him, it’s valuable to Loid’s survival that the day Desmond remembers is the one that Loid didn't do that, despite having a clear chance, opening, and almost invitation to do so.

He doubts that will make Desmond drop his suspicions of him, but it might be just enough that if he keeps thinking Loid is a spy, he’ll consider him a shoddy one at that. Not one worthy of testing again.

He easily spreads the lie about Yor feeling sick and unfortunately having to miss the performance. He still doubts that would count as an alibi, but if she’s been doing that for years and has not once been caught, all he can do is trust she can do it right.

His stomach falls heavy at the thought of how long she’s been doing this job. Yuri had talked about how hard she was working to provide for him when she was just a teenager.

So much violence, at such a young age, for someone else’s sake…

It’s only a reminder of how much he needs to keep doing this job, and how little he can allow having a family to affect it.

He takes his seat in the audience; Yor’s absence next to him is palpable, though he knows that at any moment she will settle in her hiding spot, if she hasn’t already.

The baby cries, the actual usher escorts the couple outside, the bell rings, the lights go down.

Of course, the time the Desmonds enter was planned to be late. Donovan wants to attract the attention of any possible spies, so he planned for them to walk in when the lights would be out, so that the light from the door opening would stick out.

Loid makes sure to look at their direction once, plainly to show his “innocent” curiosity.

I’ve seen you, and by the end of the day I won’t approach you. Will you suppose that I’m uninterested, or too incompetent to grasp the chance you’re offering? Or – if only – innocent?

Loid turns his attention back to the play starting. He’s beyond the phase of feeling proud of Anya and happy for the other children having fun with their performance. Right now he feels the stress of his job coming back.

It has to end today. Pollux has to die today before he hurts anyone else. Otherwise…

It’s Anya’s intervention that finally brings him out of his anxious thoughts.

“Oh, Sec—Princess, tell me again about that curse!”

Brought back with a force, he realizes when a huff of a laugh escapes out of him. The twenty-fourth time this happens, and always the same, no matter his warnings.

No, twenty-third, his guilt corrects him. The third day Anya was so upset by his aggression that she didn’t help Damian.

Plus, he can suppose, but he can’t be sure about how she acted on the two days he missed the play.

And another difference is that Yor isn’t there to point out how Anya helped him. At least, not right next to him.

He bites his lip, focusing back on the play.

Finally, it ends. He joins in the applause as his shoulders tense and his throat goes dry, in fear and alert. He welcomes the feeling.

A feeling sharpened by someone giving a loud whistle when Anya comes forward for her bow by the end.

That whistle is both for Anya and a signal to him.

Yor is here and everything is set.

He suppresses a shiver.

Pollux is coming down today.

Today. They’ll be finishing it today.

Just a little more, Twilight. Keep it together or you’ll lose everything.

No pressure.

He needed a solid plan to throw Pollux off, so once the parents start leaving, instead of going straight for the dressing rooms, he walks upstairs where the less occupied bathrooms are.

He’s positioned correctly. No-one is around. He stands at the top step facing down, pretending he’s about to walk down the stairs.

His heart is just about to burst in his chest. He’s been in missions that nearly endangered his life so many times, but it’s so much more stressful now, when he thinks how much he has to lose.

It’s not even his life he worries that much for, as he knows time will just reset if he fails. It’s the Anya and Yor that know about him that he fears losing.

His back straightens at the sight of Pollux’s head. Loid inhales loudly, catching Pollux’s attention.

Pollux turns his head and looks at him. His brow furrows in determination, and Loid rushes up the stairs.

Three flights of stairs to the opening for the rooftop. Why did this building have to be so damn big?!

He bursts the door open and runs outside. Thankfully, Yor has already picked the lock on it, and the bag he gave her is right where it’s supposed to be. He reaches into it and retrieves his pistol, quickly hiding it in the pocket of his jacket.

He walks near the edge of the rooftop and turns around. The air is absolutely full of birds chirping.

He’s breathing fast, eyes aimed at the door.

Come on, come on, please, come on, PLEASE…

Pollux appears, and Twilight has to suppress a sigh of relief. Pollux only takes two steps toward him before Twilight sees a dark figure fly behind him.

Yor—No, the Thorn Princess dances in the air, carefully wrapping her legs around Pollux's shoulders. Her left hand grabs his left – the one holding the detonator – and her right hand begins attacking.

Within the few seconds of their fight that it takes Twilight to cross the distance to them, for the first time he witnesses the Thorn Princess in action.

If it was any other target, she would have taken him down – along with several others – by now. She's not only strong, she's fast, and she's accurate. Every single one of her hits land, and Pollux can only guard from them, he's too slow to completely dodge them. Blood is already spilling from his arm where her stiletto cuts through.

And above all, Pollux is surprised. His eyes jump between his left hand and Twilight coming at him, and it's then he realizes they both know of his plan.

A newfound confidence builds up in Twilight as he leaps towards him, his right hand going for Pollux's left. Pollux takes a deep pierce from the stiletto when he moves his free hand to grab it.

Twilight's left hand goes for his throat. Pollux leans back quickly, managing a hit on Yor's stomach with the back of it, if he judges by her grunt.

Grasping the chance, Twilight finally wraps his right hand around the detonator.

Pollux screeches and leans forward, teeth exposed. He dodges an attack from Yor with his elbow and Twilight leans back with a short yelp, avoiding a bite going directly for his throat.

Pollux bends forward, attempting to hit Twilight with Yor's body. She twists the stiletto’s grip in her finger, driving it into Pollux's arm. She raises her knees to her chin and folds her body in half, landing her feet on Twilight's shoulders.

Damn, her heels are sharp.

With a steady grip on Pollux's hand and the dagger stuck in his other arm, Yor lifts her back, forming a perfect arc over the men's bodies. She then removes the stiletto and goes for his neck.

As expected, he dodges it, but with the duo being aware of their final goal, Twilight uses the distraction to drag Pollux's left hand into the path of the swinging weapon.

He hears the swish of steel and the subtle crack of bone. He sees blood spill in the air, but the blade is so fast he's certain he doesn't actually see it go all the way through the man's wrist.

With the leftover momentum, Twilight punches Pollux's neck with his own severed hand, cutting off his scream of pain.

Yor grabs Pollux's hair, pulling him up as Twilight reaches into his pocket and takes out his gun.

“Good evening, or rather, good night, Agent Pollux.” He pauses for a half-second, seeing the terror on Pollux's masked face, and then he shoots.

BANG!

#Spy x Family #sxf ff #sxf fanfic #piracytheorist writes #mtav

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pandiongames · 1 year

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The Mega Grove - Week 01

Week 1 of our #dungeon23 project is complete! Let's see what we've made. - Reminder we're building this in our Discord server, so members of the community can participate in construction of the Mega Grove! The numbering we use corresponds to the Fragment hex map.

Fragment 01 - The Convergence's Center

Plane: Banda's | The Quantum Realm A unique fragment at the Grove. This was the center of it all. The beginning of the quantum convergence of campgrounds. All other planes radiate out from the center where Banda's Home resides. While everyone has been to this fragment, it still holds many mysteries.

01A - Banda's Home

In the center of the fragment is a prairie dog mound. A mushroom sits just off to the side, a gentle smoke billows from its gills. d6 Table: What do you find inside Banda's Home? 1. A telescope that Banda uses to zoom in and observe anything in the universe. From a single atom to the procession of a galactic cluster. 2. A collection of strange and exotic artifacts, possibly from entirely different universes that existed. 3. A greenhouse full of beautiful plants, some of which seem to have unusual properties or behaviors. 4. The bright rainbow singularity where all planes converge into a single point like the roots of a dense forest all meeting together. A steady flow of quantum ether seeps into the singularity. 5. A library filled with books, records, and other information about the Grove, the Campers, and the surrounding area mostly from time not yet experienced. 6. A comfortable living area with cozy furniture, where Banda relaxes and unwind after a long day of managing the Grove.

01B - A Gathering Place

A community gathering point for food, song, and socializing, a large campfire two meters in radius sits in the center surrounded by carved log benches. A specialized alcove in the stone fire ring is setup to allow dragging hot coals from the main fire under a stone oven for cooking. A weather tight cabinet at the perimeter holds an instrument library - at least one instrument from each plane is stored here for anyone to use or learn. At the will of those who are in attendance, the sky overhead the Gathering Place can shift from early morning, to day, to the perfect evening, to an expanse of stars and galaxies swirling and dancing in the cosmos.

01C - A Reedy Pond

A shallow pond full of reeds and cattails that hum melodies in the breeze. The waters always reflect the quantum ether's stars and galaxies regardless of the time of day, giving the waters a sparkling glimmer. Small youth events are performed here, such as learning how to fish, finding and categorizing plant and insect species, and talking about ecologies and biomes. It's not uncommon to find children from every plane frolicking in and around the pond.

01D - The Grove Ranger's Cabin

The large Ranger's Cabin sits at the edge of Convergence's Center, nestled among tall trees and surrounded by lush green flora from different Planes. The exterior of the cabin is made of rough-hewn logs, with a sturdy wooden door at the front and windows that look out onto the surrounding forest. A wide porch runs along the front of the cabin, complete with rocking chairs and a swing, inviting campers to sit and relax while they take in the natural beauty of their surroundings.

Inside, the main room of the cabin is spacious and airy, with high ceilings and a stone fireplace that takes up one whole wall. A comfortable couch and armchairs are arranged in front of the fireplace, providing the perfect spot to gather and tell stories or play board games on rainy days. The main room also contains a dining table and chairs, where campers can enjoy meals cooked by the Ranger Murie and the Grove Ranger themselves.

Off to one side of the main room is a small kitchen, equipped with a stove, refrigerator, and sink. Ranger Murie uses this space to prepare meals for the other Grove Rangers and campers and keep the cabin stocked with snacks and supplies for all.

At the back of the cabin are several bedrooms, each with a few bunk beds to accommodate the Rangers. The rooms are simple but cozy, with thick quilts on the beds and small windows that let in natural light.

A winding staircase leads to the second floor, where Ranger Murie's personal bedroom, study, and office are located. Everything in the space is utilitarian, but well cared for and sturdy. One wall holds floor to ceiling windows, the center of which opens out to a small balcony. On it is simple telescope, a gramophone record player, and several rocking chairs. Murie and the Grove Ranger can be seen here in the early mornings and late evenings discussing the day and enjoying hot coffee while listening to Murie's favorite music: Mexican brass bands.

d6 Table: Adventures at the Cabin

1. A group of campers discovers a hidden compartment in the Ranger's cabin, containing a mysterious map whose lines and contours shift and change depending on where you stand in the Grove. 2. A storm forms and begins to rage over the cabin, shrouding it in a dense curtain of rain, lightning and winds. It shakes the pummels the cabin. As the storm rages on, strange noises and flickering lights lead the campers to believe the cabin may be haunted by a malicious spirit, or the beginnings of a powerful blip. 3. Group of many diverse baby fauna arrived overnight on the cabin's porch. Ranger Murie has asked the campers to figure out how to care for them while discovering which plane they belong to and getting them back to their parents, while discovering why they were delivered to the cabin in the first place. 4. The ranger's cabin has been robbed! The campers must work together to gather clues and figure out who the culprit is. 5. Ranger Murie (or the Grove Ranger) falls ill, and the campers must step in to take over the daily duties of maintaining the cabin and the Grove while finding a cure to help Ranger Murie survive the ordeal. 6. The campers find an old, handwritten journal in the ranger's cabin that tells the story of a past summer at the camp, and decide to try and recreate some of the adventures described within its pages.

01E - NPC - Ranger Murie

The First of the Grove, Ranger Murie has been Banda's right-hand from the beginning and works tireless to organize and maintain the Grove. She recently selected a new Grove Ranger to assist her. Not much is known about how Murie came to be, as the first days, when the original fragments arrived, were filled chaos and confusion as they hurtled through the quantum ether's expanse until Banda's intervention. But perhaps Murie has written about it, or would be willing to talk about it some day. She is a gracious, loving, but determined individual. The Grove and its People's safety and wellbeing are always at the top of her mind. No one is quite sure which Plane she's originally from, as each of the plane's peoples see her in the shape of one of their own, but always with a classic tan and green park ranger's uniform and the wide-brimmed hat. Name: Ranger Murie Pronouns: All, many default to She/Her. Origin Plane: Unknown Quirk: Ranger Murie seems deeply knowledgeable about the Grove, but only teases at information and loves keeping an air of mystery. Hobby: Drinking coffee on the Ranger's Station balcony while listening to Mexican brass bands during the suns' rise and suns' sets.

01F - The Activity Field

Nestled against the forest's edge and abutting the Ranger's Cabin, the open field at summer camp is a peaceful and serene spot, perfect for all sorts of activities. The tall grasses rustle gently in the breeze, and the warm suns filters through the trees. A gentle stream babbles nearby, and the air is filled with the songs of birds. Whether you're playing a game of capture the flag or simply basking in the beauty of nature, the open field is a place of endless possibility and enjoyment.

Downtime Action: Organize A Game | 2 Pebbles

Get together a group of campers, and decide on a game to play. If it's competitive in some way, split the table into teams and play a real life game to determine the winner (checkers, rock paper scissors, tic-tac-toe, etc.) The winners gain +1 Pebbles and an additional downtime Action, the losers gain +1 Pebbles. If it is not a competitive game, work together to create something: A drawing, map, friendship bracelets or anything else. Everyone gains +1 pebbles and an additional downtime action.

01G - A Fissure

One of the seams between two planes has split as they wind their way to the center of the convergence. Looking into the unsettling fissure, campers are met with a sea of stars and galaxies. Sometimes they pass through the it, and find their way to the night sky above.

01F - The Supply Shack

There are two known keys for the Supply Shack - one is worn by Ranger Murie, while the other is held by Groundskeeper. All that is known about the Supply Shack is that it seems to have every paddle watercraft known to the universe, along with the grounds and maintenance supplies for every Plane that has converged at the Grove, including the quantum ether

#dungeon23 #dungeonyear #bandasgrove

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spill-to-t · 2 months

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I promise this will be the last towl inspired melody for now. I just needed to capture this beautiful moment, sorry (sorry if sound is bad)

At first Rick is nervous, maybe even scared to see his kids again. Michonne is there to comfort him, relax him. She is so happy to come back to her now complete family. Seeing Judith again is almost unreal to him. She is the only thing left that reminds him of Lori and Carl. And then there is his son. His and his wife's son. It is probably the most beautiful moment in a long time. In the end, Rick is just thankful for not only seeing his kids again, but for Michonne, because she helped him out of this prison. Both the CRM and his mind...

#T's cabinet of melodies #I love the grimes #the walking dead #the walking dead fandom #the ones who live #twd the ones who live #towl twd #rick grimes #michonne #judith grimes #rj grimes #rick x michonne #andrew lincoln #danai gurira #piano #piano music #piano melodies #piano stuff

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faroutgardengirl · 1 year

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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Re-Ment 2022 Chocolatier My Melody Box Set - Chocolate Praline Collectibles.

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parisstreet · 1 year

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How To Write A Song Called 'Purple Coke Straw'

The newest Paris Street EP, Brief Feelings, is out now. As I've occasionally done with Paris Street releases, I'm going to spend this week rambling a bit about each song on the EP. Enjoy!

The song: Purple Coke Straw

youtube

When was it written? Around September of 2021.

Where was it recorded? The music was originally recorded in Sacramento. I finished the lyrics a short while later in a hotel room in Simi Valley, then recorded the vocals there in one take (possibly my finest vocal delivery ever is when I say ‘don’t ask’ in the second verse). About a year later, I finished up the instrumentation back in Sacramento.

The instruments: Mostly LMMS, with a touch of percussive egg and what I like to call the Gord Downie Memorial 4-Color Pen, which looks like this:

It makes a nice percussive sound when tapping the top part against my leg.

The bass line was originally composed on the ukulele bass before I transposed it onto LMMS. I also recorded a rhythm part on acoustic guitar and recorded multiple melodies on guitar before ditching all of it for the sake of a mellower, unfussy vibe.

What’s it about? Well, I found a purple coke straw on my bathroom floor one morning, behind the toilet. I knew who it belonged to, but felt it would make a better song if I wrote it from the perspective of someone who was completely clueless as to how it got there.

Upon discovery, I placed the straw in a cabinet above the toilet, next to my shaving gear. It is from that location where it became the cover star for this EP. At last check, it’s no longer there – have no clue where it ended up.

Anything else to say about this song? The ‘internet installer with the repressed Russian past’ was a young lady who came to my apartment on behalf of AT&T to restart an internet connection that her company had mucked up. When I noticed her Russian last name, she told me she was born there and spent her first couple years in Moscow. We then talked extensively about Russian poetry and literature, exchanging thoughts on different authors that either she hadn’t heard about (Andrey Platonov) or I hadn’t heard about (Mikhail Bulgakov). It was great, and she said she’d keep in touch so we could talk more about it.

For the next week, she would text me almost every day to tell me about different deals I could qualify for if I switched my cell service to AT&T. By the end of the week, I had blocked her number.

Brief Feelings can be found on Bandcamp, Spotify, Amazon Music, and all other streamers of note.

#paris street #brief feelings #how to #songwriting #cocaine #coke straws #indie pop #andrey platonov #mikhail bulgakov #read the foundation pit and soul by platonov #Youtube

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Gavin’s Car Repair Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 修车之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 13 August 2021 ]

Beneath the blue skies and white clouds, the meandering road stretches towards the mountaintop, and the roar of the engine is incessant.

A light-hearted melody flows slowly within the car. Since we’ve already heard this song many times, Gavin and I find ourselves humming along to the music softly.

Gavin: Are you tired? I could drive next.

Sitting on the front passenger seat, Gavin turns his head to look at me.

MC: I’m not tired. I’m filled with energy right now~

I shake my head, gripping the steering wheel while my gaze focuses on the front.

Gavin and I had originally planned to go on a vacation in a neighbouring city today. However, sudden changes at work caused my vacation to shrink to half a day...

As such, Gavin suggested that we should change our plans to a drive, and that he’d take me to this mountain route he often drives on.

MC: I’ve already watched you driving down this road a couple of times. I’m more or less familiar with this route.

The corners of my lips curl upwards slightly, feeling the fresh breeze brushing my cheeks, along with the comforting and pleasant sensation it brings.

MC: I can now understand why you like going on a spin here. The feeling of rushing among the mountains feels really carefree.

Hearing this, Gavin’s lips hook into a smile.

Gavin: If you like it, we could come here often next time.

MC: Sure. But I’ll be the one to drive you, okay?

I speak with a teasing tone, and Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: Why not?

While we’re talking and laughing, a strange sound abruptly drifts to our ears. My brows furrow. Gavin also senses the problem.

Gavin: Let’s stop the car.

I nod, bringing the car to the side before stopping.

Gavin walks over to the front of the car, then opens the hood. Bits of sunlight filter through the leaves, casting a mix of light and shadows on his face.

MC: Should I call the insurance company?

Gavin: No need.

Gavin purses his lips slightly, then waves casually.

Gavin: The spark plug just needs to be replaced. This car’s pretty old, and it hasn’t been maintained much. It’s a good time to give it a thorough check.

MC: I see...

I glance at the long mountain road. Even if we were to head down the mountain now, there’s still a great distance between us and the city...

Gavin: It’s fine, there’s no need to worry.

As though seeing through my thoughts, he gives me a smile.

Gavin: There happens to be a shop I’m familiar with nearby. Since we’ve been driving for such a long time, we could head there for a short break too.

Gavin places his warm palm on the top of my head, rubbing it gently.

Gavin: In short, it isn’t a huge problem and we can continue driving. Let’s get in.

Halfway up this secluded mountain, Gavin stations the car outside a shop which looks pretty old. After getting off, what enters our vision is a tightly shut roll-up door.

Gavin: The boss might have headed out.

Gavin calls out the boss’ name several times, but doesn’t receive a response. Instead, the sound of barking drifts over.

MC: This is...

Gavin: It belongs to the boss.

Gavin takes out his phone and dials a number. At the same time, he strides towards a flowerpot at the side, retrieving a key from underneath.

Gavin: I’ve told the boss about our situation. He says we could head into the shop to repair the car ourselves.

MC: Ourselves?

I mumble in slight confusion, watching as Gavin lifts the roll-up door.

Before I can get a clear glimpse of the shop’s interior, a figure leaps out.

??: Woof woof!

A brown puppy circles around Gavin excitedly, nuzzling against him affectionately.

Gavin (voice clip here): Long time no see, Bean Bun.

Gavin squats down, patting its head. Then, he points at me.

Gavin: This is Big Sis MC. Say hello to her.

MC: Nice to meet you, Bean Bun~

I bend down. When Bean Bun sees me, the affectionate energy disappears instantly, and it hides behind Gavin timidly.

MC: ...I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu. Why are these dogs only close to you?

I pout, my tone laced with envy. Gavin chuckles softly.

Gavin: It’s just a little afraid of strangers. Once it familiarises itself with you, it’d naturally stick to you.

Watching as Gavin carries the puppy up with ease, I can’t help but ask curiously.

MC: Do you come here often?

Gavin: I guess so. I often go on drives on the mountain, and got to know the boss here. I’d drop by occasionally to modify cars with him.

Gavin places Bean Bun down, then gives me a slight smile.

Gavin: That’s why I’m more familiar with this puppy.

After saying this, he gets up and drives the car into the shop. I scan my surroundings in curiosity.

All of a sudden, a few photographs on the horizontally striped wall draw my attention-

The photographs feature customers of the shop with their beloved cars. Stepping closer, I find one figure particularly familiar...

MC: !

MC: Gavin, your photo is here too!

Pleasantly surprised, I point at that photograph. The Gavin in the photograph is even more youthful than he is right now. He’s leaning against the car, his amber eyes filled with unruliness.

This isn’t the only photograph. Next to it, there are several photographs of Gavin checking or fixing cars. However, they appear to be candid shots.

There are occasionally photographs of him looking directly into the camera. His brows are always furrowed slightly, reluctance written all over his face.

Thinking of the reasons why he was forced to have such photos taken, I find myself bursting into laughter.

Gavin: Cough...

An unnatural cough drifts to my ears softly. Without realising it, Gavin has come over to stand behind me.

Gavin: I once learnt how to repair cars from this boss.

He follows my line of sight, sweeping a glance at the photographs while explaining.

Gavin: But he’s very strange. He didn’t ask for fees, but just wanted to take some photographs of me to stick on the wall of the shop... he said that his business would be better this way.

Hearing this, the smile on my face grows even wider.

MC: Looks like this boss has pretty good taste. He knows that he can’t let this dashing “model” slip by~ If only I had such photographs of you...

I say this enviously while scrutinising the photographs on the wall. Gavin stares at the photographs of the youthful version of himself, and seems to understand my words differently.

Gavin: “Such” photographs?

MC: Mm!

Gavin: You could take a few photos later.

In a nonchalant manner, Gavin shifts to stand in front of me, and just so happens to block my line of sight.

Gavin: Stop looking. My skills from back then are far different from what they’re like now.

He arches his brows slightly, taking my hand in his.

While looking at the person in front of me, I find myself laughing aloud. A sudden realisation strikes me.

MC: Wait. You mentioned “car repair skills”... So other than motorcycles, you can repair cars too?

My eyes widen in astonishment.

In these photographs, Gavin is always driving a car. Even though I already knew that he can modify and repair motorcycles, I never thought that four-wheeled vehicles were an easy feat for him too.

Probably due to my exaggerated expression and tone, Gavin chuckles.

Gavin: Why are you so surprised? I had an interest in it, so I tried learning a little. It isn’t anything serious. Although cars and motorcycles are two different types of vehicles, the principles behind repairing them are more or less the same.

Gavin says this calmly while retrieving spare parts for the replacement from a cupboard at the side. I support my chin with a hand, eyes focused on him.

MC: You seem to know everything.

Gavin: That’s an exaggeration. It’s just a hobby.

With a faint smile, he walks towards the car while carrying the tools. When he walks past me, he taps on my cap gently.

Gavin: It won’t take long. It’d be fixed really soon. You can sit at the side and take a break for now.

After saying this, Gavin rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his contoured arm as he uses the tools seriously.

I watch on fixedly, realising that I rarely see this version of him. As such, I smile while shaking my head, moving a chair over and sitting down next to him.

MC: I just want to stay here. This is the first time I’m watching you repair a car for real. I want to protect this best observation spot~

Gavin chuckles softly, and doesn’t insist otherwise.

In the next second, something seems to occur to him. He stops in the midst of opening the hood of the car, then casts a glance at me.

MC: Hm? What’s wrong?

The corners of his lips hook upwards slightly, a gentle light overflowing in his eyes.

Gavin: Erm, MC. Could you help me out?

Hearing Gavin’s suggestion, I nod hurriedly.

MC: Of course I can. How can I help?

Gavin tilts his head crookedly and ponders over this.

Gavin: Could you hand me tools?

MC: Only handing you tools...?

Seeing that I’m slightly disappointed in this task which doesn’t require much skill, Gavin smiles as he grabs a clean apron from the rack and ties it on me.

Gavin: It’s inevitable to get grease on you when repairing cars. You’re dressed really nicely today, so don’t get yourself dirty.

The sudden closeness in proximity causes me to soften my breathing. I cooperate by lifting my hands, then sneak a peek at Gavin from my peripheral vision.

His eyes are lowered, and his expression is serious as he ties the ribbon of the apron into a knot. His warm breaths gently brush against my ear.

I blink and nod, my voice turning soft.

MC: Understood. In that case, I’ll be Officer Gavin’s little assistant today~

I say this with anticipation, and very soon grow accustomed to this new role.

While Gavin changes into his work clothes, I purchase two bottles of iced water from a nearby stall. After returning, the both of us take out the necessary spare parts and tools from a work cabinet.

Just as everything is going smoothly, a crisp sound drifts from the side, as though something has fallen to the ground.

Twisting our heads to look, we realise that Bean Bun, who had been drinking water obediently at the side earlier, has moved over to the car, pawing at the tools on the floor.

Gavin: A spare part probably fell underneath the car.

As though punishing it, Gavin rubs Bean Bun’s head. Then, he leans over to look below the car. He supports himself on the body of the car with one hand, attempting to reach for the spare part which rolled underneath the car.

Looking at his tall frame and the amount of effort he’s exerting, I can’t help but chuckle.

MC: I’ll do it.

Without waiting for Gavin’s response, I squat down, reaching out to feel underneath the car.

Gavin: ...do it slowly.

A large hand is lifted up, carefully protecting my head.

After feeling around the darkness beneath the car, my fingertips suddenly bump into something icy cold.

MC: Got it!

Seeing how happy I look, the corners of Gavin’s lips lift into a smile.

Gavin: Looks like having an ‘assistant’ around is much more convenient.

He takes the spare part from my hand.

Gavin: I’ll have to trouble you again later.

MC: Mm, leave it to me!

Gavin removes his cap. After using a hoisting jack to prop the car up, his movements are nimble as he burrows underneath the car.

In the meanwhile, I tidy up the tools that Bean Bun had messed up earlier. Occasionally, the crisp sound of clanking metal can be heard.

Bean Bun: Woof!

After a moment, I hear a sudden sound.

Turning my head over, I spot Bean Bun wagging its tail, running towards the car.

MC: Wait, Bean Bun!

Worried that it’d disturb Gavin while he’s repairing the car, I attempt to pick it up. However, Bean Bun manages to evade me nimbly again and again.

In the blink of an eye, it slips underneath the car. I hurriedly bend down, looking underneath.

MC: Bean Bun, come here...

My voice abruptly halts, and my line of sight is involuntarily drawn to the image before me-

Gavin is lying on the ground, his gaze focused as he makes replacements to the car.

His head is tilted upwards, revealing his sculpted lower jaw. A droplet of sweat slides off his face, plunging into the collar of his slightly open shirt.

Despite the grease and dirt on Gavin’s face, it does not minimise his dashing spirit at all.

Bean Bun: Woo...

Bean Bun’s bark returns me to my senses. It’s currently lying at the side, looking at Gavin a little pitifully. It’s as though it wants Gavin to play with it.

I wave at Bean Bun, pretending to look stern.

MC: Bean Bun, come here. I’ll give you delicious, delicious food!

Bean Bun: Woo woo...

Gavin: [laughs] It’s okay, he won’t disturb me.

Following the sound and looking over, I realise that Gavin had stopped his work at some point of time, and is currently looking at me with a shining gaze.

My face flushes, and I avert my eyes while using this opportunity to pick Bean Bun up, who is stuck to his side.

MC: Reporting to Officer Gavin - I’ve successfully kept this Little Rascal under control!

My dead seriousness tickles Gavin to laughter. He plays with Bean Bun while it’s in my arms.

Gavin: Mm, not bad. My assistant is indeed competent.

After this, he continues with the work on hand, just that the smile at the corners of his lips curls at a greater angle than before.

Gavin: MC, stay here and talk to me.

MC: Mm, sure~

I blink, then retrieve a small electronic fan from my bag at the side. I point it towards Gavin, wanting him to feel a little more comfortable.

Gavin: Come to think of it, do you know why I wanted to learn how to repair cars?

I look at him with curiosity, and Gavin continues.

Gavin: When driving, I’m the first person who can understand the overall situation of the car. To me, fixing the car myself is most convenient. Also, I can make detailed adjustments based on my own preferences. It takes a little more time, but the process is very interesting.

Gavin’s tone is gentle as he speaks, the corners of his lips lifting involuntarily.

Seeing the bright lights in his eyes, I feel a certain part of my heart being stirred.

MC: So that’s the reason why you like modifying and adding new coats of paint to vehicles? I know how that feels.

I nod while chuckling softly.

MC: Whenever I finished my handcrafts in the past, I’d draw all sorts of doodles on them... It was akin to leaving a mark belonging exclusively to me on the things that I liked.

I mumble to myself, not noticing that Gavin has paused in his movements. After a moment, he slides out smoothly from underneath the car.

Warm yellow sunlight lands on Gavin’s face, smoothening his sharp edges.

My heart stirs slightly. Supporting my hands on my kneecaps, I bend over to ask him a question.

MC: Are you done repairing it?

Beneath the mottled light, Gavin lifts his eyes to look at me, arching his brows.

Gavin: Not yet. There’s still the final step. I’ll need your help.

He pulls me over to him. Amid the hot and dry air in the surroundings, Gavin’s scent and the smell of engine oil blend together.

Gavin places a tool in my hand. Together, we screw the spare part I had picked up earlier.

Gavin: Done.

His scorching breaths land on the nape of my neck. I turn my head, watching as a large patch of sunlight spills on Gavin’s back.

Scattered dust floats in the air, reminiscent of mayflies as they land on the car, which has already been covered with a layer of dust.

The person in front of me has a bright and clear smile which is even more dazzling than sunlight. I blink gently, tugging on Gavin’s hand and swinging it to and fro.

MC: Gavin, there’s something else I might be able to help you with.

“Splash...”

I retrieve a towel from the pail, leaning over and meticulously wiping the car which has already been rinsed once.

In the next moment, Gavin stands behind me, grabbing my hand.

Gavin: It’s best to start from the roof of the car. That way, we wouldn’t have to wipe and wash it again. Like this.

MC: Mm...

I cooperate, standing on my tiptoes. Due to our difference in height, I find it a little strenuous.

Gavin: [laughs] Let me do it.

While saying this, Gavin takes the towel from my hand.

I nod and turn around. Only then do I realise that we’re only a finger away from each other.

Stray hairs on his forehead sweep against the tip of my nose, and I can see each one of his eyelashes distinctly.

Warmth climbs up my cheeks gradually. Just as I plan to slip out of this tiny space, my wrist is suddenly tugged on.

MC: A-aren’t you washing the roof of the car...

Lifting my head, I see an imperceptible smile flashing past his eyes.

Gavin: Before washing it, I have to ask for a “reward” from my little assistant.

After saying this, he leans down, cupping a hand against my ear.

Then, he leaves a gentle kiss on my lips.

I hold my breath. The only thing I can feel is my slightly increased heart rate.

On this scorching summer afternoon, the whirring fan moves continuously, and the sunlight along the horizon turns from a dazzling gold into a warm yellow.

Without even realising it, we’ve already wiped off all the soap bubbles on the car, and the body of the car is as shiny as the surface of a mirror.

MC: Done! Is Officer Gavin satisfied with this little assistant’s performance?

I turn my head towards Gavin excitedly. When I see the white soap bubbles on his face, I laugh aloud.

Gavin: What is it?

Under Gavin’s confused gaze, I turn the sprinkler to the lowest level, then head over to Gavin.

MC: Don’t move.

I dab some water on my hand, wanting to brush off the soap bubbles on his face.

MC: Gavin, squat down a little.

Gavin: Mm, okay.

Gavin nods in understanding. Following my instructions, he bends down. In an instant, his sculpted face draws close to me.

Beneath the gem-like and dazzling sunlight, the beads of sweat on his skin reflect light, causing me to be slightly engrossed in the sight.

I brush off the soap bubbles on his face gently. A damp yet soft sensation drifts from my fingertips. Gavin’s eyelashes quiver slightly at the touch.

Gavin: ...are you done?

I turn my head, realising that the tips of Gavin’s ears have turned an unnatural red.

MC: ...nope. There’s still a little bit on your nose.

Suppressing my laughter, I continue caressing his outline, deliberately leaning in closer.

Gavin’s breathing seems to become heavier. His eyelashes quiver slightly, before his eyes open right in front of me.

Gavin: [breathing noises] ...

Our breaths mingle with the heat waves of midsummer, and our eyes reflect each other’s faces clearly.

After a short while, Gavin seems to react. His lips move, as though he’s about to say something. However, two crisp barks interrupt him.

Bean Bun: Woof! Woof!

Bean Bun, who has been neglected by us, releases unhappy sounds of protest. It hops up continuously, pawing against Gavin’s leg.

MC: Sorry sorry, we seem to keep forgetting you today.

Lowering my head, I pat Bean Bun’s head.

Gavin: [sighs] ...

As though not wanting my attention to continue getting diverted by the puppy, Gavin suddenly carries me in one swoop, placing me on the car as he looks directly at me.

Gavin: I haven’t answered your question from earlier.

MC: Huh?

Gavin leans in close. I have a clear view of the smile overflowing in his amber eyes...

Gavin: I’m very satisfied with the “little assistant’s” performance today.

The faint scent of sweat and the fragrance of soap meld into my breaths. Only after listening to him do I recall the question which was interrupted earlier.

Despite the smile surfacing on my face, I pretend to be dissatisfied while speaking.

MC: Is that all? Officer Gavin’s assessment seems a little superficial.

Gavin laughs. He lowers his head to nuzzle the tip of my nose while he continues.

Gavin: This is how satisfied I am.

After a long while, he draws away from me slightly. With an upward tilt of his lips, he reaches out to leave white soap bubbles on the tip of my nose.

Gavin: [laughs] ...there you go. Now, the both of us have soap bubbles on our faces.

Watching as the smile deepens on his lips, I’m in a daze for a few seconds. Then, I recall how I had toyed with him earlier.

MC: Gavin, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?

Gavin: Mm, this is a counterattack.

Gavin admits it with ease.

MC: I didn’t expect Officer Gavin to launch such a childish counterattack.

I can’t help but laugh. Gavin looks at me, happy warmth reflecting in his clean and clear eyes.

He lowers his head, leaning his forehead against mine affectionately.

Gavin: MC, what you said earlier was very accurate. When there’s something I like, I’d want to leave my exclusive mark on it.

With his gaze, Gavin traces the contours of my face. Along with the warm breeze, his tender words land in my ears clearly.

Gavin: Which is why, over here...

He tilts my chin upwards gently, his voice softening.

Gavin: Let me leave a mark.

The scent belonging exclusively to Gavin wafts over. A soft sensation seals my lips shut.

MC: Mm...

Without giving me any time to react, Gavin rolls my breaths in between my lips and teeth in an overbearing manner.

The sound of disordered breaths dissipate at my ears. I support myself weakly on Gavin’s arms, feeling as though the temperature of my surroundings is rising.

After an unknown period of time, Gavin releases his hold on me. His arms remain tightly wrapped around my waist.

I pant slightly, allowing my breathing to regain some composure. As though I’m unwilling to admit defeat, I lean over towards him, giving him a light peck on his chin.

MC: ...Gavin, me too.

I stare at Gavin, my fingers caressing his outline before sliding down slowly, stopping at his chest.

MC: On you and your heart... I want to leave even more marks belonging exclusively to me.

The light in Gavin’s eyes stir for a moment. Then, he brushes aside the hairs on my face, pressing his lips to my forehead.

Gavin: MC.

I hear him calling my name.

Gavin: Actually, you already did that since a very long time ago. You did it effortlessly.

Reminiscent of a gust of summer breeze, his voice brushes my heart, filling it with a sweet emotion.

I wrap my arms around his neck, feeling the mingling of our interlaced breaths as they melt into the rapidly increasing temperature of the surroundings...

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: I want to learn how to ride a motorcycle from Officer Gavin!

Gavin: Sure. MC’s private lessons will begin next week.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Can we drive down different routes next time?

Gavin: Sure. Until you have your heart’s content.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

Gavin’s Post: The breeze on the mountain is really comfortable. Next time, I’ll bring Sparky here.

MC: Sparky: I’ve fallen out of favour.jpg

Gavin: It’s okay, I’ll coax it when we get back.

Minor: Bro Gavin, can I tag along?

💧 Phone calls: First l Second

💧 Translated comic based on this date: here

💧 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #THIS IS SO WHOLESOME AND BEAUTIFUL AND HAFEWJKNDE

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sabine-leo · 3 years

Text

Hold me closer

Author: @sabine-leo

Wordcount: 1529

Hurt/Comfort/Fluff

Tom x Reader

Summary: In a world where distancing is required, a safe hug from a friend can go a long way to keep one sane.

Note: I felt as if I should send out a virtual hug to everyone in need. Hope you are safe and well! This may turn into an ongoing friends to lovers story. Who knows what my twisted mind will come up with.

A blended hue of orange, red and violet tinted the darkening sky while leaves in similar shades danced to a silent melody before your window. It was -after all- still your favourite time of year. Inside your cosy home a fire was crackling and the scent of fresh brewed tea lingered in the air. You were about to put another log onto the fire when you heard an elusively familiar knock on your front door. Frowning, you looked to the door and walked over covering your face with a mask that lay ready on a shelf in the hallway. When you opened the door, a tall shadow blocked the view onto the side road. A dark ballcap and mask hid a face you hadn´t seen in person for a while now. Even though his face was mostly hidden, the smile that lit up his features shone through his hauntingly blue eyes but was somehow reluctant.

“Tom…” You smiled under your mask and opened the door fully.

“Oh my, it is so good to see you…” He started and you felt that he had to restrain himself from reaching out to pull you into one of his famous hugs.

He looked into your eyes and tilted his head a bit.

“…I needed to see a friendly and familiar face.”

Laughing softly, you answered. “You´d see more of that face when you would have video called me.”

“Not the same.” Was his quiet answer. Tom teetered on his feet for a moment before directly looking at you again. “Do you…” He started and stopped himself again. A sigh escaped him before he could start again. “Do you think I could come in?” Before you were able to answer he continued. “I haven´t had any close human contact in the last 3 weeks. You know I am fully vaccinated and I tested myself before walking over here.”

“Come in Tom, I just made tea and started a fire.”

His eyes shone a little brighter. He waited for you to clear the doorway before walking in himself and closing the door behind himself. “Tea sounds brilliant.” He began to take of his jacket, shoes and ballcap. Tom ruffled his longer curls and looked at you. His movement was a little bit off if you´d be honest to yourself. His voice quieter than usual. “You do look even better in person than on my bloody phone screen.” His mask went into his jacket before using the disinfectant you had positioned on the shelf next to the coatrack.

Laughing quietly, you walked further into your living room, flopping down on your sofa. “Probably because there is more to me than just a face. Maybe you forgot over time.” Tom grinned and got himself a cup out of your kitchen cabinet before joining you in your living room. Since you had been friends for over 8 years now, he knew his way around in your home, as you did in his.

Tom sat down on your comfy wingchair opposite of you and just looked at you for a moment. Silence had never been uncomfortable between the both of you. You did enjoy lengthy and good conversations but comfortable silence was a gift in itself. The possibility of just being together, enjoying each other’s company without words…it was invaluable.

But today it seemed that Tom was not comfortable with just silence. “This damn pandemic…” He started and ruffled his hair. “…do you think it´ll be over one day? I mean, almost two years in and we are still keeping distance from one another.”

You poured tea into both of your cups and took in a deep breath. “I really don´t know but I sure hope so.” Looking up into Toms eyes with a comforting smile made him sigh.

“Without wanting to sound shallow…and I know I am very privileged…but I do miss…” He stopped himself.

“What?” You asked.

Tom snorted and sounded exasperated at the same time.

“Doesn´t matter how I phrase it. It will be the most dispensable problem of all.” Toms’ words made you look at him with a pang of worry in your gut. “It is not dispensable when it hurts you and makes you feel bad.” Tom rubbed his legs before he blurted out “I miss human contact. Hugs. God knows I am a big hugger. I hate keeping distance. I hate not being able to reach out or always having to think about my movement and restrain my natural behaviour. And I hate only seeing my friends, YOU, over a damn screen.”

Your heart broke for your friend, who clearly showed signs of physical and mental malaise now.

“Tom…” you started before he interrupted you.

“You know what, forget it. I should go. I should´ve just called and pulled myself together.” He was about to stand up.

“Sit back down and drink your tea!” You said a bit on the stern side.

Tom looked at you and flopped back down.

“Firstly!” You started. “It is not shallow and it also isn´t dispensable. You are a physical human being. You have a good selected circle of close friends with whom you can be yourself and that got ripped away in what felt like a split second.”

Tom closed his eyes at your words and sighed but nodded.

“Secondly…” You proceeded when you saw that he was indeed listening and thinking about your words. “…there isn´t only physical health.” You paused for a moment. “Don´t be ashamed to talk about what you need to get through all of this unscathed. Yes, you are privileged and you do give back a lot through various aid organisations and just by being who you are…but it all starts with you being healthy…body and soul. So, tell me…what do you need?”

Tom gulped and needed to take in a deep breath. When he stood from his seat a second later you froze. Would he leave like he wanted to minutes ago?

His gaze met yours and he slowly held out his hand while his eyes pleaded you to close the distance. He had come that far. Had told you what ached him. But he needed you to willingly take the step towards him.

Slowly you stood and placed your hand in his. The shudder that went through him, the anticipation of physical human contact echoed through you too. Living on your own, without close family nearby could take a toll out of you in a worldwide pandemic. And there was no shame in admitting it.

Tom pulled you close. His strong arms came around you and held you against him while his head came to rest on top of yours. He actually trembled for a moment before he very slowly relaxed into the hug. Softly stroking his still rigid back with one hand and listening to his fast-beating heart with your ear against his solid chest made a tear escape your eyes. How much effort had it cost him to come to your door and ask for help? How often had he tried and talked himself out of it?

“Hold me closer…” The whispered ask nearly broke you into pieces. You wrapped yourself fully into his hug and pressed in.

You actually lost track of time. How long you just stood there and held each other was beyond you. But Toms heart had calmed down, his body not tense anymore. When you leaned backwards and tilted your head upwards you saw him smile down on you with wet streaks down his cheeks.

“Thank you…” he croaked and closed his eyes when you softly brushed another tear away that fell out of his blue eyes.

“Not for that! Never for such a thing as this! I needed this too.” You admitted and hugged him once more.

“You are an angel (Y/N)…” Tom started and kissed the top of your head in a heartfelt thank you.

Slowly you unwrapped yourself out of his arms and smiled. “How about I make us some new tea and you get the fire going again. We are having a slumber party tonight.”

Tom couldn´t stop himself from grinning even though his eyes still glistered. “Are we now?!”

You nodded and went into the kitchen. “Yes indeed! Since we just opened up our own hug-a-friend bubble we might as well stay in it a while longer. Tend to the fire and choose your poison: Movie, music, conversation.”

Tom smiled and felt a heavy load falling from his chest. “Yes, my lady!” He went outside to grab some more logs from your stack of dry wood. For the first time in a long while, he felt like himself again.

When you came back with a new pot of tea you saw Tom sitting on your sofa. The fire was well stoked and music was playing. His eyes followed your movement when you poured the tea. He smiled when you sat down next to him and spoke. “Music it is…”

“For now…” He smirked and lifted his arm. His voice was like dark chocolate when he added “Come closer, darling.” When you just grinned at him for a second, he grinned back lopsided and pulled you in.

~TBC~

General Tom Tags: (tags are open if you want to get added)

@lots-of-loki @traceyaudette @ellaenchanted91 @catsladen @dr-kayleigh-dh @mrsstyles033 @usedtobegoodfriend96 @hiddles-thomas @noplacelikehome77 @ladyblablabla @myoxiisbroken @lumoswinchesterkazy2y5 @viviandarkbloom06 @snoopy3000 @archy3001 @itscalledfandomsweetielookitup @faeriedelalune-blog @lil-mewlingquim07 @alexakeyloveloki @nonsensicalobsessions @gingerwritess @kingtwhiddleston @mylokabrennauniverse @wolfsmom1

@amazinggraces-world @tanishahka @coniumalces @emomemelordess @devilbat @cest-le-temps-de-lamour @adefectivedetective @karnita-mexicana @marvelc00kie35 @stressedoutsteph @maggiefollows @bi-spider-noir @klbates22

@my-fuckin-problem @deathofmissjackson @vesper-lou @bluefrenchfries604 @maybell88 @moonstar86 @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @wiczer @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

#tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston #hiddlestoners #thomas william hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston hurt #hurt comfort #friends to lovers fic #tom hiddleston x you #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Y/N x Tom Hiddleston #You x tom hiddleston

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