been in my drafts for too long i guess it's time to release it

Dead Bodies (1/?)

Summary: All her life, forensic pathologist Dr. Angela Ziegler has dabbled much with the dead. After a bout of self-realization, she decides it was time she learned how to deal with the living.

And maybe ask her colleague out for a date somehow.

Genre: AU, Romance. Dark humor. Oh, and ghosts and psychics (anyone a fan of pushing daisies?)

Characters/Pairings: Angela, Lucio, Fareeha (mentioned), Pharmercy

Rating: T, mentions of body gore and third party violence, dark humor.

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anonymous asked:

May I request a scenario of Papa! Asahi taking care of and spending the day with his infant son while his s/o rest please? I need some fluffy Asahi in my life ^3^

I just realised that this has been in my drafts forever, and I never posted it! I’m very sorry, hopefully the fluff makes up for the long wait.

-Admin Lana


To have a child required ample energy and the ability to function with little to no sleep, which was exactly what both you and Asahi had been doing. Little Teppei was full of boundless energy which reminded you of Hinata. You weren’t sure where he got it from since you weren’t the most energetic person and neither was your husband. The last few weeks had been rough. And when I say rough, I mean rough. The poor boy had began having nightmares which resulted in him waking you up in the middle of the night, and when it was time for bed he simply would not go to sleep. I guess it was finally beginning to take its toll on you and Asahi could see that. Which was why he planned a day out with his son while you took the opportunity to recuperate. You quickly waved them off, not that you didn’t love your son to pieces, but you needed alone time.

Asahi let out a breath before pushing the stroller down the street towards the park nearby. It was a nice day, the sun was shining and there was a nice breeze blowing. Even Teppei seemed to be enjoying himself. The quietness prompted the broad man to think back to the day he first learned you were pregnant.

The two of you had been married for nearly a year, still basking in the newness that came with the married life. He was the happiest he’d ever been which was to be expected when you had the pleasure of waking up next to the woman you loved every morning. Asahi had just returned from work when you nearly tackled him in an embrace, facing glowing brightly with the hint of surprise lurking just beneath.

“You’re awfully happy. Did something good happen today?” The giant asked after he released your body, toffee eyes watching as you nearly wriggled in excitement.

“As a matter of fact, something did,” and suddenly you were dragging him off to the dining room table where a neatly decorated cake sat, tempting Asahi with its sweet aroma. “I finally succeeded in baking the cake you always seem to have a craving for. Think of it as a reward for all of your hard work!” Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you pressed a chaste kiss to the scruff of his cheek.

Asahi leaned closer to the cake, taking in the intricate details of the pastry. Goodness, it looked beautiful. He wasn’t too sure he wanted to eat it now, but you were insistent, already cutting a slice for him and handing it to him. Asahi lifted the fork into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It was divine, just the right amount of vanilla and-oh? With a look of surprise he removed the foreign object, staring at it with deep intensity.

In his palm was a minsters pacifier most likely used in baby showers and what not.

“D-does this mean…?” His voice trailed off when you nodded excitedly, and in that moment Asahi knew that this is the second best day of his life, the first being the day he married you.

You found yourself wrapped in his tight embrace, Asahi swinging you around in pure delight. He was going to be a father! How much better could life get?

Indeed, once Teppei was born neither of you could deny how much brighter the days had gotten. Having a child born out of love was truly an incredible experience, least to say magical. But of course, as new parents, the first child was never easy. Nights were spent in constant roars took of soothing the child when he was crying or feeding him when hungry, despite the fact that the next day would be busy. However, Teppei made all the hardships worth it.

Asahi has always been attentive to your needs, and when you began to grow weary by the day, he realised it was time that you took a day for yourself. Besides, he was looking forward to spending the day with his son.

“And up we go!” The gentle giant said as he lifted the small child into the swing fashioned like a booster, slipping his little legs through the holes. “Do you want Daddy to push you high?”

As if he understood, Teppei waved his hands in the air in a frantic motion as if telling Asahi to do just as he asked. With a gentle smile he began to gently push the seat, watching as the child laughed with content.

Suddenly Teppei’s mood switched and his face grew red as he wailed, wanting Asahi to pick him up. The man panicked, not wanting his son’s startled cries to draw attention. Balancing him on his hip, Asahi walked back to the stroller, digging through the bag where he packed the baby food.

“Are you hungry Teppei?” He didn’t expect a coherent answer, but it seemed like the infant understood to a certain extent.

Finally he found what he was looking for and settled down on the bench, Teppei sitting on his lap with a look of irritation which soon morphed into glee when he spotted the small container in father’s large hand which he knew contained his meal.

“I know, I know. Daddy’s going to feed you. Open wide!” Asahi made an airplane motion with the spoon he was holding, Teppei’s eyes trained on it with fierce intensity as it approached his mouth. With a wide bite, he swallowed its contents, this time without the mess that usually ensued whenever you or Asahi fed him. “Look at you, no mess today!”

As if sensing his praise, Teppei let out a gurgle, hands grabbing at Asahi who coddled the child in return. He loved when he was able to hold his son in his arms. The first time he held him, the man nearly passed out from the sheer thought of crushing his frail body, but after you reassured him that nothing of the sort would happen, Asahi couldn’t seem to let go. He would never trade his family for anything, both you and Teppei were his world.

The day finally dwindled down and Asahi carted a sleeping child home back to where you awaited. The mont he walked through the door he was greeted by a hushed, ‘Welcome home’, and a tender kiss to his lips.

“Did the two of you have fun today? You were gone for nearly the whole day.”

“Oh yeah, we had a grand time. I tired him out so that he’d sleep soundly and we’d finally be able to get some rest.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you took Teppei from your husband, walking down the hallway to the child’s room. “Thank goodness. I’m looking forward to a full night of sleep.”

Asahi couldn’t agree more as he followed you, watching as you planted a kiss to Teppei’s forehead and placing him in the crib. The male came to a stop behind you, strong arms wrapping around your middle, lips pressing against your temple.

“I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

“Neither would I. I’m lucky to have met such a wonderful man like you.”

He nearly scoffed at the thought. “I’m the lucky one,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Asahi.”

Episode 8 manga, volume 9 postscript

Boy, it’s been a looooong time. =O I didn’t come much on tumblr during the past year. Mostly because, well, this a blog about 07th Expansion, and 07E fans haven’t had much to talk about since the (definitive) end of Umineko. Iwaihime is hard to find, Hotarubi hasn’t started yet, there are no news of that “Alice” project, and A ROSE GUNS DAYS ANIME IS STILL NOWHERE IN SIGHT, DAMNIT. è__é

But well, since 2016 will be a bit more lively in that department, I thought I could try to post once in a while. So I thought it would be interesting to translate Ryūkishi07′s postscript at the end of the last Umineko volume. He explains some of the reasons the Episode 8 manga turned out the way it did.

And notably one aspect that is seldom taken into account in the discussions: the fact that the Episode 8 manga is exactly that − a manga. You just can’t handle it the same way as a VN.

What also comes out is that writing “Confession of the Golden Witch” is not a decision he took lightly. Umineko still clearly means a lot to him, and he wanted to make sure to give it the best possible closure. It probably won’t quell the frustration of those who think he shouldn’t have exposed everything, but personally I’m more at peace with the whole thing now. And in any case, the Episode 8 manga will remain one of the most beautiful and powerful mangas I’ve read. So here goes:


Hello, this is Ryuukishi07.

So, has everyone managed to reach the Golden Land? This long journey is finally over. And also, welcome back home.

As the short stories of Umineko Tsubasa have ended not long ago, I guess writing this postscript will be my final job on the Umineko manga…? Isn’t there a bit more to do after that…? This is my deeply emotional state of mind, as I head to my computer.

The other day, I received some happy news. A couple who had met by reading this series have just married. How wonder how many of them that makes now. I’m really thankful. And you, who are reading this postscript: what kind of story was Umineko to you? If you have made a bond with someone during the eight years between the release of the first sound novel and the end of the manga, then I’m happy for you.

Now, as you already know, in the manga I took the risk of depicting some parts that were not broken into in the novel. A catbox that can’t be opened, that was “Umineko no Naku Koro ni”. But I thought that a catbox has to be opened at some point. Because a forever closed box isn’t really a box.

Before the serialization of Episode 8 started, I talked a lot with the staff of 07th Expansion. The original work being mainly written with words, it is possible to depict events with a certain level of abstraction; but we had to decide how much of this abstraction we could retain in a manga format, where it had to coexist with the concrete drawings.

Wasn’t keeping the novel’s abstraction, i.e keeping the catbox closed, the simplest option? That’s what some members thought. But I couldn’t ignore that the manga would end several years after the novel. And it would most likely be the last medium through which Umineko’s story would be told. In other words, I realized that the end of the Episode 8 manga would be the final stop for all the people who looked for the content of the box.

So I thought to myself: why not invite all these people to see the inside of the box, at the very end? And I took my decision. Maybe it was finally time to depict what was at the bottom of the box, as much as I could.

When it was decided that Natsumi-sensei, who had already drawn Episode 1, would also be in charge of Episode 8, before our preparatory meeting she sent me dozens of pages of storyboard. She had drawn the aftermath of the explosion on the second day, Beatrice and Battler’s exchange on the third day, as well as the part on Battler’s past. (She could draw all that because I had already explained the truth to her before the Episode 1 manga started.) From these many drafts she had drawn and sent me even though she was so busy, I could feel that she had the love and determination needed to put this work to sleep by her own hands. That’s why I decided to entrust the inside of the catbox to her.

At that time, I told her three things:
“The way to depict and show the events in a sound novel and in a manga are different. So I’d like you to show and tell the story in a way that fits the manga, without sticking too much to the novel.
Then I told her:
"Episode 8 is a tale meant to lead Ange to happiness. Therefore, I absolutely want you to make her happy at the very end.”
And finally, I told her:
“Since I’m entrusting everything to you, I’d like you to draw the catbox in all its details.”

And Natsumi-sensei answered my expectations, pouring her heart and soul on the pages. It was the occasion to make her add several additional dialogues meant to clarify some facts. We were going to tear the box open and expose its contents… No, to put it in Bernkastel’s words, we were going to rip its stomach open and pull out its guts. And that’s precisely the reason. I can say safely that the only person outside of me, Ryuukishi07, who knew what had happened on the island on that day, was Natsumi-sensei. And she did a wonderful job at opening the box and depicting it to the end.

To Natsumi-sensei, to all of her assistants, and to the editorial department: I cannot thank you enough!

Marrying my daughter Umineko Episode 8 to Natsumi-sensei makes me so happy. And my deepest thanks to all the people who read Umineko until now.

The curtain will finally close on this long, long tale, but I hope we can be reunited somewhere, someday. Until we meet again.

Yes, when another cry can be heard…

Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair

Bellamy cuts his hair and Clarke’s upset about it. For eskimo-whisperers :)

Read on AO3

If you asked Clarke what it was about Bellamy Blake that made him so Bellamy, she wouldn’t know what to pinpoint.

There are so many things that feel so particular to him, from his ridiculous love of history - any era, anywhere in the world; he just wants to know more - to his weirdly good ability to paint fingers and toes, going as far as adding small, cute flowers to the corner of each nail, to the way he demands to be the little spoon whenever they watch a trashy movie together and cuddle.

They’re all part of him, from the big, important stuff to the small, silly quirks, and Clarke can appreciate even the most frustrating of his traits (his overprotective nature, easily), because it’s what makes him Bellamy.

What she didn’t realise is that his hair is also part of what makes Bellamy so Bellamy to Clarke. That his hair is something that made him more attractive to her. And yet, here she is, watching him with a frown on her face, alcohol prompting her to tell him, voice annoyed —

“You look weird with short hair.”

Bellamy scowls, which is also how Clarke’s feeling as she looks at his freshly cut locks, although she knows they’re scowling for different reasons. See, while Clarke is mourning the loss of his gorgeous inky curls (mop of hair is a phrase that suits Bellamy to a tee, and she often wonders if he even owns a comb), Bellamy is bitter about how the loss came about.

It was half a week ago that she got the I fucking hate undergrads text, which honestly wasn’t much in and of itself from her best friend. But it was sent past midnight and accompanied by a selfie; Bellamy’s face crinkled in the way it gets when he falls asleep on non-bed surfaces, eyes bleary, mouth turned down into a frown, and a piece of bright pink gum stuck in his hair.

It was hard not to laugh at the time, even though Clarke did feel a surge of sympathy for him. Apparently, after a very intense two weeks of uni which involved submitting a final draft of his completed thesis, Bellamy had fallen asleep on a desk at the college library. Which again, wasn’t much in and of itself, but this one happened to have gum on it. And of course Bellamy blamed it on undergrads, because generally speaking they’re easy to blame disorder within the library on.

But Clarke isn’t laughing now, because realising that you’re attracted to and in love with your best friend is one thing, but finding out that their hair is something you are very much into;  that you need time to grieve its loss because they cut it all off is something else entirely.

She’s trying to deal, reasoning with herself that she’s an adult and this whole ordeal shouldn’t be affecting her as much as it is. But in the two hours that have passed since Bellamy showed up for Friday night drinks, Clarke’s gotten more and more drunk, and is now feeling very much like a non-adult. A non-adult who is very upset about the lack of messy hair on top of Bellamy’s head.

He narrows his eyes, but the way his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but isn’t letting himself, makes it lose the intended effect. “Fuck you, princess.”

“I’m just saying,” she muses, “you should probably wear a beanie until it grows out.“ For her own selfish benefit, she leaves out, because every time she sees him she’ll just be reminded that Bellamy’s hair is A Thing for her. Too much of A Thing. A Thing she’s upset about losing to a disproportionate degree of its loss.

“Maybe I won’t grow it out just to spite you,” he grumbles, and Clarke swats at him over the table because the thought is truly upsetting. Seriously. She has a fucking problem.

“Do whatever you want, Bell,” she says, aiming for casual and thinking she even manages it. “I’m just saying that objectively you look better with longer hair.”

“That literally makes no sense.” He quirks an eyebrow, takes a pull of his drink. “It’s completely subjective.”

“And objectively,” Clarke continues, pointedly ignoring him, “that means you might strike out more. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

He barks out a laugh. “As always, I’m touched by your concern,” he says, dry.

“You should be. I’m a great friend.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. “Well it’s not like I’m trying to hook up with anyone these days, am I?” It comes out with just an hint of harshness, and Bellamy seems to notice when Clarke leans back in her seat, surprised. He offers a smile, something like an apology in it, and with a softer voice continues. “I doubt my hair will affect my life much, Clarke.”

“Huh,” Clarke frowns, sipping her beer while she looks at him curiously. There’s a minute of silence while she runs through the past few months in her head, trying to pick out a night Bellamy flirted and subsequently went home with someone. But she comes up with nothing. Bellamy Blake, notorious one stand enthusiast, hasn’t had a single one night stand in months. No guys, no girls, not for a long time; maybe not since he and Gina split up almost a year ago. “I guess not.” She hesitates, worrying her lip before she lets herself ask, “Any particular…reason for that?”

Bellamy watches her for a long moment and Clarke feels her face heat up in the dark room.

It’s just - they’ve been friends for six years now, best friends for four, but they’ve never been more than that. Not in the way most people count. Not in the way where Clarke’s ever admitted her feelings to him. There was a time she was considering it, but then Gina came along, and later Niylah, and through it all Bellamy was there - her constant; both a blessing and a curse - and it didn’t feel fair. Not when she knew he didn’t feel the same way.

So she didn’t tell him. Hasn’t told him. Wasn’t planning to.

But the way he’s looking at her right now - like he’s so close to confessing something but not quite there - makes Clarke hold her breath and hope.

There’s something about his mop of dark curls that’s just so Bellamy, but even with them gone the rest of him is still here. Hair or no hair she loves him, and there’s something in his eyes Clarke’s never caught more than a glimpse of before; never for this long, never this intense, never with this much vulnerability. She looks into his eyes and she can’t help but think he loves her back.

It’s another moment of electric-filled silence before Bellamy releases a deep breath, bowing his head to look at the beer bottle in front of him. “Nah,” he says, glancing back up to Clarke, but there’s something else in his eyes now. A sadness to them, maybe even longing. They flit around her face before he shakes his head. “No reason. Another drink?”

He’s up before Clarke can manage a reply, and she watches as he moves towards the bar. He runs a hand through his hair and rolls out his shoulders, and Clarke pulls her phone out because despite Bellamy’s words she’s not disappointed yet.

Is your brother into me?

Thankfully, Octavia’s reply is quick. Yeah. Been in love with you for about a year. You really didn’t know?

Nah. Thanks tho.

Break his heart and I break you.

Good to know. Not gonna be a problem.

She pockets her phone when Bellamy returns, taking a moment to study him as he sets a beer down in front of her and slides into his seat. He’s avoiding her gaze, hands tapping out an uneven beat on the table, and Clarke can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips because he’s nervous, and Bellamy Blake is never nervous around her.

So she takes a sip of liquid courage and hopes for the best.

“You wanna know the worst thing about your short hair?”

He laughs, but it has an edge of desperation to it, a hint of something that makes Clarke’s heart hurt a little. He looks up from the table and shoots her a wry smile. “Yeah, go on.”

She returns it with one of her own and waits a beat before replying, looking him straight in the eye. “Because when I kiss you tonight I won’t have anything to run my hands through.”

It’s almost comical watching his reaction, and after he opens and closes his mouth three times Bellamy manages to stutter out a “Yeah?”

Clarke grins then, a small laugh of relief bubbling through her. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” he says, disbelief in his voice, but soon he’s grinning too. “You’re — we’re — I mean. Fuck.”

She laughs again, but then Bellamy’s out of his seat and pulling Clarke from hers, capturing the delighted sound with his lips and fucking kissing her. He kisses her like he’s been waiting his entire life for it, and in the end it’s just so them: consuming and building and passionate. A hunger she remembers from when they were first learning about each other years ago; a sharpness to Bellamy’s tongue she recognises from arguments.

He slides his hands down her back, pulling Clarke flush against him like he wants to learn her all over again in this new way, and because she remembers they’re still in the middle of the bar Clarke lets hers move to the nape of his neck, creeping higher to tug at his hair, a joke. Bellamy smiles against her lips when they pull apart, and Clarke swears she can taste the sweetness of it when he presses one last kiss to her mouth.

“I’m sorry about my hair,” he tells her, low, and Clarke laughs, nuzzles into his neck.

“You’re forgiven,” she replies, pulling back to see his swollen lips, how the usual browns of his eyes are now black. “As long as you promise to grow it out for me.”

Bellamy grins, and Clarke’s heart skips a beat.

“I think I can manage that.”


Four months later it’s just as Clarke loves and remembers, and she’s delighted to learn that Bellamy Blake enjoys having his hair played with as much as she loves playing with it.

"Mmm,” he murmurs, lips wet against her bare stomach, the vibrations of his voice sending a warmth through her. “Just like that.”

Clarke laughs, nails scraping against his scalp as her fingers card through the curls she’s missed; the curls that are just so him. When she feels the curve of his smile against her skin she grasps a few locks and tugs him up. He comes willingly, propping himself on his elbows and letting Clarke lean up to join their mouths. She uses her grip to pull him over her body completely, and then the kiss is warm and wet, a laziness to it that’s been perfected on Sunday mornings spent in bed together; drunken nights when they’re too tired for anything more heated.

“See,” Clarke smirks when they pull apart, tugging once more playfully. “This is why I love it nice and long like this.”

“You’ve already admitted to thinking my hair is a fundamental part of who I am,” Bellamy teases, and Clarke grins up at him, wide and bright.

“Yeah, okay,” she concedes, eyes tracing his features fondly, landing quickly on her hand still playing with his curls before moving back to his eyes. She can always see that light behind them now, and she knows it’s love shining through when he looks at her. “That too.”

SPQR: Legion of Super-Heroes - 20

#Superhero AU [AO3] | First | <<Prev | Next>>


They’d spent almost the full hour chatting amiably on the couch. Jason telling stories well known in the news but with added details only really known by those who’d been there. Nico had told him a dozen stories of silly college hijinks with friends that seemed like something out of a sitcom to Jason. They’d never gotten around to making a second drink with all the talking.

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Title: Angel on the Moon
Pairing: Aokise
Genre: Fluff/Angst (with a Happy Ending)
Rating: PG
Summary: He should have said “I love you.” Instead he said, “I’m leaving.”

As always, all aokise I write is for Atsu. Very loosely inspired by this song.

“I love you, Aominecchi.”

Aomine froze. He stared at the top of the Kise’s head, memorizing the way the part split his hair and the way the sun caught in those silky blond strands. The last thing he’d expected when he called Kise to meet him at the park was a confession. He expected some tears, maybe a hug, or even a kiss on the cheek (or the lips, if he was lucky). 

He had never been good at expressing his feelings, but if there was one thing he knew, it was that he loved Kise Ryouta. He knew it from it the moment he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the first time he’d played the blond in a one-on-one match. He knew it in that smile, the way it made those eyes sparkle so bright they rivaled the stars. He knew it in that laugh, the way it brought out the smiles he’d thought he’d lost to teenage angst. He wasn’t sure how to define their relationship, but he’d never cared for labels in the first place. He found comfort in the familiarity of the blond and Kise relished the time he got to spend with the only man he’d ever idolized. 

He loved Kise, but he didn’t know how to say it.


He jumped. How long was I staring? The silence must have been nerve wracking. He saw the way Kise sucked on his bottom lip and knew he was thinking the worst. The ace was in no better position. He had to find the right way to say it, if he could say it at all. 

“I–" love you. "I’m going to America.” He pulled in a sharp breath before continuing. “I got into that training camp I told you about. You know, the one that potentially prepares you for the NBA. Well, I got in and I accepted, so I’m leaving next week.”

Kise stared at him. His eyes glossed over and Aomine knew he was about to cry. He tried for a smile, but that light never quite reached his eyes. “Ah… that’s great!”

Aomine paused. There was something off. If anyone knew Kise best, it was him. “Ryouta, are you–”

“That’s just wonderful! Aominecchi gets to follow his dream! Wouldn’t it be so great if you got drafted? What team would you wanna be on? I really like the colors of–”

“Ryouta, what’s up? You’re rambling."v

"I… I’m just really happy for Aominecchi.” He wiped away the tears that started to fall. “You get to go across the ocean and see new things and meet new people. Maybe you’ll meet that special someone over there." 

A dark brow rose in confusion and he shook his head. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryouta. Look… I wanted you to be the first to know cause, well, you’re my best friend.”

“I’m glad you told me.” There was that smile again. “Maybe we can have a match one last time before you go?”

“One last time?”

Kise grabbed his hand in a grip so tight. “I’m so proud of Aominecchi!”

“Ryouta… hey… would you wanna maybe come to the airport to see me off?”

“I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m too emotional.” He laughed, but the sound was so hollow it made Aomine flinch. “And I’m not good with goodbyes. Anyway, I think I’m gonna get going.” He pushed himself off the bench and released the ace’s hand so suddenly it fell onto the bench with a dull thud. “I’ll see you before you go.” He waved a goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. Aomine hadn’t received that hug he’d been expecting, or that kiss, cheek or otherwise. 

Kise had always been the only one who could come close to reading his mind. Yet it appeared that this time he hadn’t and it was only then that Aomine realized he hadn’t said the words out loud.


“I love you, Ryouta." 

The blond didn’t hear him. He was already gone.

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Not Yet [Justin Bieber Imagine]

After stepping foot inside your home you closed the door and removed your jacket, hanging it up on the wall. You dropped your keys on the little table that was placed by the door when you moved in. You always had a habit of losing your keys around your old apartment and you didn’t want to carry the habit into the decent sized house you now live in. It’d be too much to search the entire house when you could just have a designated spot to leave them until you needed them. You slipped off your shoes and walked into the kitchen to get yourself a drink before going upstairs.

When you neared the kitchen the first thing you saw was your boyfriend sitting at the granite covered island, looking down at his phone. You stopped in your tracks at the sight of him. He was sitting there shirtless, his blonde hair messier and longer than he normally allowed it to get. You took a deep breath before you stepped into the kitchen. His head immediately rose at your presence, a soft smile taking over his face.

“Hey, babe. How was your day?” he asked. You didn’t cease your movements to get to the refrigerator as you answered him.

“Um, it was great. I had a lot of fun.” you told him. You opened the refrigerator and grabbed a cold bottle of water, opening it and taking a sip without even closing the refrigerator first. You made sure to keep your back to Justin, not wanting to give yourself the oppurtunity to stare at him and create millions of thoughts in your head. The sight of him on a regular basis was honestly breathtaking, so seeing him without a shirt was something that was hard for you to handle.

The feeling of arms wrapping around your waist startled you, making you freeze and your heart rate increase for a second. Once your mind processed that it was Justin you were moving normally again, but your heart didn’t calm one bit.

“I missed you.” he spoke into your ear before leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek. The gesture made chills run down your spine and gave you the urge to groan but you held it in.

“Justin…” you spoke, trying to turn in his arms so he’d loosen his grip. He did as you wanted and you were able to look at his face, his expression was one of patience as he waited for you to go on. “Can you put on a shirt on?” you asked him. He chuckled before kissing your cheek again and releasing you.

“Sure, babe. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He disappeared upstairs as you closed the refrigerator and let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. The action was slowly but surely becoming a routine for you.

You told Justin from the start of your relationship that you wanted to wait for marriage to have sex. It’s just something that you believe is the right thing to do and even though no one around you, not even your parents, did it you still wanted to. It was important to you because it was a part of your faith and you were doing well with sticking with your goal before Justin came along.

Throughout the course of the so far two year long relationship, it’s just gotten harder and harder to wait. Justin is everything you ever wanted in a guy and even though the two of you fight sometimes like every other couple you’re very much in love with him and felt like he really might be the one.

Feeling this way made the temptation heighten between the two of you. So many times you’d feel relieved to go home and get away from him just so the pressure could be off you for a few hours. That was something that kept you strong for a while, knowing that you could just go home after it was done and not feel the urge to break the vow that was very important to you, but now you can’t really do that. Not since Justin convinced you to move in with him. Now it’s been constant temptation and having discipline to fight the way you felt.

Justin has been very respectful when it comes to this topic. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to rush you in any way and is always making sure you’re comfortable with whatever he’s doing. Of course he has his moments where he may let things get a little too hot or he playfully teases you, but those rare moments were also rarely the issue. Justin himself is just very tempting to you. The way he speaks, his movements, his whole being made your body scream and ever since you moved in with him the temptation has been on level 100.

You had made your way to the living room and were now sitting on the couch when Justin came back downstairs, his torso now adorned by a white t-shirt. After spotting you he came in the room and sat next to you.

“Sorry about that, y/n. I really wasn’t thinking.” he said to you.

“It’s okay. It’s just… it’s been really hard for me lately.” you admitted to him. You’d never talked to him about it that much before, partly out of embarrassment, but now seemed like the perfect time.

“Is it anything I’m doing? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not. Honestly, you don’t even have to do anything. Just seeing you is enough.” you told him.

“Are you saying you can’t resist me? I mean, I get that a lot so I understand.” he said. You smacked his arm and he laughed as you wore a small grin.

“I’m being serious.” you said. “Maybe I should move out.”

“What? No! You just moved in, it hasn’t even been three months yet.”

“Yeah, but.. it’s just going to keep getting worse. I just think that maybe we moved too fast and we should wait. I don’t want anything to happen that I’ll regret.” you told him. As much as you loved the idea of living with him and wanted this to work out, you needed to be honest with yourself. If you continued to let this feeling build like it has been you’d do something you’d regret and possibly resent Justin for it.

“Are you sure you still want to put yourself through that? If it’s that tough then, I don’t know… why torture yourself?”

“I just know I’d feel bad the next day if I did it. I don’t want to take my frustration with my decision out on you; we’ve got something good. I don’t want to mess it up.” you told him. He studied your face before turning away and letting out a loud sigh. You chuckled once the sound left his lips.

“I don’t like the idea of you moving out when I finally got you to move in,  but okay. I guess I’ll help you pack.” He stood up from his spot on the couch and began to walk away before you grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. You wrapped both arms around the one you pulled and hugged it tightly as you put your chin on his shoulder.

“We don’t have to do it just yet. Thank you for understanding, babe.” you told him. You left a kiss on his cheek and at the corner of his mouth before he turned his head towards you to get one on the lips. “I love you.” you said, resting your head on his shoulder afterwards.

“I love you, too.”

Render - Deleted Scene (minor epilogue spoilers)

Since I threw out most of the first draft of the epilogue, I had to cut the lovely graveyard scene I’d mentioned to jeankirstchein back when we were comparing OTTA and Render (and our own penchants for pain)

While I reused parts of this in the actual chapter, a good part of this scene is sitting in that awkward spot of “well i liked it but it’s messing with the flow of canon sooooo”; but for entertainment purposes I’m posting it here.

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Flare 17

Some more talking… maybe some very important talking… don’t get too excited, though; remember, Myka’s still recovering from that punctured lung. Also, and this will sound incongruous to anyone who hasn’t read the previous parts: goats are the real gift that keeps on giving. (I had planned originally on using sheep, but I think goats are ultimately far better.) Don’t worry; we are winding down now, with not too many more parts to go. Like max of two, probably. Other parts were: amatterofcomplication’s masterpost, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15,and part 16.

Flare 17

Myka is in the hospital for ten days. Helena spends as much time there as she can, and Helena is not thinking about why this is so; she is just… spending the time. When she is not actually at the hospital, she is generally either in the bookstore—repairs are being made to the entryway, and she is taking this opportunity to widen the door to make it even more inviting—or en route from the bookstore to the hospital. She stops in the apartment only to bathe, change clothes, and deal with Dickens’s food, water, and litter.

Dickens was at first inconsolable regarding this state of affairs. Now Dickens has decided that she will act as if Helena does not exist.

“This is all ultimately for your benefit,” Helena tells the cat. “You’re going to be much happier if Myka is well than if she is not.”

On the evening of the eighth day, Dickens quite literally turns her back on Helena and sits down that way. Helena takes a picture of her small, resentful back.

She shows Myka the picture an hour later and is gratified when Myka is able to laugh relatively easily; laughter is a quite recent addition to her breathing-related repertoire. “She’s never going to speak to either of us again,” Myka says. “Is there a mute Dickens character? We should change her name.”

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