Story Summary: Soulmate AU. On your 21st birthday, you begin to hear the innermost thoughts of your soulmate. What will happen when your soulmate just so happens to be a drug addict struggling to recover? Did I mention that he may or may not be incredibly gay?
Warnings: Addiction, language, brief sexual content, drugs, emotional abuse, Bud being a fucking perv as usual and making women feel uncomfortable
A/N: Hi guys! I hope you all enjoy the first part of this, I know its a little slow, but i promise part 2 will have more TJ in it. Shout out to the glorious @plumfondler , without her, this would probably just be another unfinished story in my drafts. If you like it, let me know! I’m currently working on part 2.
You’re fine. You don’t need it.’
His voice was
something you’d grown used to over the past 5 years.
‘Maybe just a
little bump. Just a little one.’
Your soul-mate had
an issue with drugs, one that he was trying to overcome, and you’d
always get caught in his inner battle to stay sober.
You wished this
worked both ways, that you could talk him down from it, it seemed
like the only time he could hear you is when he was high.
That, or he was just
very good at ignoring you.
to be okay. You don’t need it. Just breathe.’ You thought,
closing your eyes and concentrating, as if doing that would make your
message more clear to him, but his voice rang through your mind
I’ve been very busy with work lately and sleeping five hours a night and things, so I’m probably overreaching and/or not making any sense, but this -
- I loved this, not only the scene, but how everything was framed, and yet there’s something bugging me - why is Dean keeping his right hand on the sigil and his left on the blade? Dean is right-handed - it would have made much more sense to cut his left hand and keep his dominant hand unhurt and free.
As I said, I’m basically delirious - but what we do know is that the left hand is the one which is a symbol for love, right? because that’s where we keep our rings (according to a medieval legend, there’s a vein that goes from the heart to our left hand, so that’s why our weddings bands go on our left hand and not our right)? Whereas the right hand - that’s rationality, doing things, fighting, writing, being all practical and sensible. And Dean’s right hand is on the Enochian sigil, because that’s the good choice - that’s what he should do to save everyone’s lives here - his, and also Sam’s, because his brother’s not far behind, because he never is, and as for Cas -
Dean’s feelings for Cas - a left-hand kind of thing. Back in Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the other Yockey episode, Dean picks up Asa’s angel blade with his right hand, because that was a weapon, and Dean favours his right hand when he fights, and that’s what makes sense. But this time around - I don’t think that blade is Cas’ (?), but it’s still an angel blade, which means it represents this brave, amazing, infuriating angel Dean loves unconditionally - hence the left hand, and Dean’s ‘illogical’, ‘wrong’ decision to trade his life for Cas’.
The tree was finished, all that Edith needed to do was put the remaining presents under the tree for her son, Thomas, named after his father. She smiled as she settled another bundle of drawing pencils under the tree, smiling at the paper stars that littered the branches. He and his governess had made them that day, somehow making them glitter so much so that even in the dim light of the lanterns they sparkled. He was creative like both she and his father, his walls were lined and filled with drawings and sketches that she would have thought were beyond a boy his age could do. But she couldn’t stop him, couldn’t buy him enough pencils and sketch books it seemed. But for now, she stood and nodded, all that remained was to make sure that her son wasn’t snooping to try and find any gifts she might have left. Stockings were hung, the food was prepared, it had even started snowing. She would check on Thomas before she would go to bed herself. Turning the lanterns down as she walked along she saw her sons door was open, the gentle blue light filling the hallway. Opening the door, being quiet to make sure she didn’t disturb him if he was asleep. Unsurprising to her though, he was sat at the large window, a blanket round his shoulders, his fathers model sat on his desk from where he’d clearly been playing with it before he went to bed.
“Thomas” he turned and smiled at her, seeing that he had been caught out,
“What are you doing? It’s late, you should be in bed-”
“I know mama, I know” so gentle, a small smile on his gentle face, his large shining blue eyes that only seemed all the more vibrant thanks to the white of the snow outside being reflected.
“We were playing, with the model, and teddy”
Edith can’t be angry, he doesn’t mean it to disobey her. Taking a seat beside him on the floor, wrapping her shawl round her more, the velveteen teddy indeed in his arms and lap. One of the secret things about his father that Edith knew, she’d brought him back as well as the machine model.
“And what were you and teddy playing darling boy?”
“Oh teddy was watching, me and him were playing”
“Him? Who is him?”
“He doesn’t speak a lot” he nestled into his mothers side, watching out the window, the snow was fluttering down
“But he shows me the machine, how it works, helps me to draw, he likes the snow mama, just like I do”
He looked up at her gave her a gentle smile, Edith smiled but there was something niggling at the back of her mind.
“What does he look like? Does he scare you?”
“No mama, no, he stays here sometimes, when I cannot sleep. He sits and waits, he’s my friend- there he is mama”
Edith followed the point of her sons extended arm, the long sleeve of his white night shirt falling over his hand. She gasped quietly, pulling Thomas closer to her but then felt herself calm, eyes watering. He stood in the snow at the front of the house, looking up at them and near blending into the snow. But it was him, it was her Thomas, her sons father.
“Mama, mama what is it?” He tugged at her arm, worried now
“Mama, are you ok?”
“I am” she nodded, reassuring him, kissing his hair.
“Do you see him-”
“I do, darling boy, I do”
“Who is he? Do you know?”
Edith had her choices, she had to chose one now and though she still felt the confusion and sadness at what had been done as she looked at her son there was something that overwhelmed her,
“He is your father, your papa”
His eyes betrayed his mixed emotions, the confusion, the excitement, all the questions that raced through his small mind.
“Yes, your papa”
They sat together wrapped in the blanket before looking to the door as it creaked, opening and there he stood waiting for permission to enter. Thomas, the younger, stood and wondered over, his small body framed in the large night shirt as he stood in front of his father, his name sake.
“Come on papa, it’s Christmas”
The younger led the older, towards the woman that they both loved, sitting down with their son between them, wrapped in the blanket and watching the snow fall outside.
Summary: Black and white was all anyone saw until they touched their soulmate. For some people, color quickly rushed into their world and for others, all they ever saw was black and white. Two businessmen, who absolutely hated each other, managed to bump into each other on their way up to their office. Little did either know that their world would erupt in a staccato of color.
Warning: mentions of suicide
Word Count: 3,583
Dedication: Every single person who’s read this and had joined this rollercoaster with me. It’s been an exciting ride, but it’s time for us to get off and enjoy other attractions. Thank you.
A/N: It’s over…but keep your eyes peeled for the alternate ending.
The last ten months of Thomas’ life had been a whirlwind. He found out his soulmate was the man he hated. Slowly, he let that man in. Then, they fell in love. That was only in a few months. He became a father and a fiancé in the next few. After getting married in the courthouse, he screwed up. He cheated. But that didn’t stop the two men from loving each other very much. They loved each other so much that they still wanted a ceremony and that ceremony was the death of his everything.
*Some of you may have noticed that Peaky Week was interrupted and I really am sorry. Family drama and schoolwork pushed me away from writing for a bit, but I’m back now. I originally planned a surprise for you guys, but now I’ll post it tomorrow as an ‘I’m sorry’ gift. My geat friend @kill-thy-zombie-babies gave me this idea and I feel kinda bad for not putting as much time into it as I would have liked. Also, special thanks to @bonniebirdsgifcentre for the Tommy Gif. xoxox*
Your plan had not gone completely according to schedule. The strategy was to seduce your target- a despicable local politician who had gotten on the wrong side of a rich customer-, get him to take you home, and take him out quietly with the help of a gun suppressor. Everything went suitably up to getting to his home. You had caught his eyes at his third cousin’s wedding earlier that evening, and it didn’t take more than a flashy smile and letting him get you a drink to have him lusting after you. It was supposed to be a piece of cake, killing an unexpected target, but you could tell this wasn’t the first assassination attempt on him. Before you could even pull out your gun, he was reaching up your dress to search for your holster. Luckily, a good kick to the face got him down long enough for a hectic but fulfilled job. You tried to straighten out your appearance and prepare yourself for a casual exit, but before you were ready, you could hear a loud pounding on the front door, the police. That’s all it took for you to bolt out his apartment window and down the fire escape.