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[biborispavlikovsky]

save me advil my beloved save me

[specialagentsergio]

side effects may vary

summary: An unexpected side effect brings you and Spencer closer—literally—when he’s prescribed a medication to help relieve his chronic nightmares.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: prescription drug use, one small sexual reference, discussion of tornadoes (spencer gives a small infodump)

a/n: i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins‘ “there was only one bed” event. when i saw the “medication makes someone sleepy” prompt, i had to take it, because this happens to me regularly lol.

word count: 2k

masterlist

It’s become a habit for you and Spencer: every Friday night you can, the two of you get together and watch a movie or show. It’s always at your place because he doesn’t have a TV, but he doesn’t mind—you have the better couch anyways. He thinks he could stay on it forever, especially on the nights where you don’t watch anything at all and talk for hours instead.

He made the mistake of mentioning this Friday night tradition to Morgan once. He’d questioned just why, exactly, Spencer liked going over to your place so much. Spencer hadn’t realized Derek was teasing him until he’d already come up with the lame excuse of your couch being really comfortable.

Morgan had chuckled. “I think it has less to do with the couch and more to do with the person who owns it, kid.”

He was right, of course, but was Spencer going to admit his silly little crush? Absolutely not. Especially not to Derek. He just continued going to your place every Friday, stubbornly ignoring the smirks and eyebrow wiggles sent his way from the man.

It’s one such night a few months later when an alarm on his phone goes off, making you both jump. He nearly spills the popcorn everywhere in his scramble to turn it off. “Sorry. It’s—wow, it’s nine already.” As usually happens when he’s with you, he’s lost track of time. It’s why he set the alarm in the first place.

“You have somewhere to be?” you ask.

“Um, no. I just…” he trails off, leaning forward to dig through his satchel at his feet, searching for the white paper bag he picked up from the pharmacy earlier in the day.

You don’t ask aloud, raising an eyebrow instead. It’s you providing him with an out—you’ll let him pretend he didn’t see it if he doesn’t want to answer the question.

He sighs, pulling the little orange bottle out, a prescription from the psychiatrist you’d coaxed him into seeing. “It’s just, uh… it’s supposed to help with, y’know… dreams,” he explains quietly.

“Nightmares,” you clarify.

“Yeah. That’s what the alarm was for.” He pops the cap and looks at the little pills inside. “To remind me.”

“We can finish this later,” you say with a gesture towards the TV. “It’s okay if you need to leave.”

He shakes his head. “She said to take it a few hours before bed. There’s plenty of time to finish.” Not that he cares that much about the show. He just doesn’t want to cut his time with you short.

“The bottle says it can make you drowsy, though,” you say, pointing out the little flap on the side of the bottle he hadn’t noticed.

“It won’t,” he dismisses nearly immediately, shaking a dose out into his hand.

“You can’t know that.”

“I’m a chronic insomniac. I’ve tried medication before. It doesn’t work,” he says firmly.

“If you say so,” you say, unconvinced.

“I do.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The words on their own typically imply annoyance or resignation, an insistence that the speaker knows better, but from you, all he can detect is amusement. And if he didn’t know better, he’d say your slight smile conveyed affection.

“Oh, I won’t,” he replies confidently, and takes the dose with a sip of water.

That confidence turns out to be misplaced.

It doesn’t happen quickly. You finish watching the current episode and he insists on another. About halfway through it, he starts to feel… different. A little… foggy and unfocused. Any movement he makes feels slow, and his eyelids are getting heavy. Try as he might, he can’t quite keep them open. He’ll rest them for just a minute….

“… encer. Spencer.” Something pokes his arm and he grumbles, shifting away.

“What?”

“It’s over.”

He blinks a few times, slowly reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Credits are rolling on the TV screen; he's about to ask why they look slanted, then realizes it's because he's slumped to the side. He pushes himself back to sitting, a delayed "oh" leaving his mouth. He rubs the sleep from one of his eyes, and catches your expression in the other.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything!" you protest but the little laugh punctuating your words gives away what he knew you were thinking: I told you so.

With a sigh, he begins gathering up his things, pulling his bag into his lap and untying his shoelaces so he can put them back on.

“What are you doing?" you ask.

"Um, going home?"

"You can't ride the Metro like this," you say. "You're half asleep."

He tries and fails to suppress a yawn, but still insists, "I'll be fine."

"Spencer, I don't like you riding the Metro this late even when you're totally lucid. You know that."

He does. You often express such worries on your Friday nights, offering to let him stay with you. He always declines. Your couch may be comfortable when he's sitting, but it's not long enough for his legs horizontally.

He also worries about what he might say in his sleep. He's been playfully teased by team members often enough already. The last thing he wants is to ruin your friendship by expressing his feelings for you in his sleep.

He's got one shoe on and is about to put on the other, but you snatch it away. "Hey."

"No,” you say firmly. "You're staying here tonight."

"(Y/N)--"

"Take your shoe off." You flip the TV off, stand, and stretch. "And come to bed."

His mouth drops open a little. Come to bed. Did he really just hear that? You say it like it's the most natural thing. It sounds so...domestic.

He really likes it.

His eyes follow you as you walk to your bedroom. You stop in the doorway and look back to him. "Come on."

He's in a bit of a daze as he walks towards you, not realizing he's still wearing one shoe for a few steps. He clumsily kicks it off, then follows you through the bedroom door and into the adjoining bathroom, where you provide him with a spare toothbrush.

Normally he wouldn't want to share toothpaste with someone. He's even refused to do so a few times on cases when his little travel-sized tube has run out, instead going down to the front desk of whatever place they're staying at for a replacement, no matter how tired he is. But tonight he doesn't even think twice, just takes the tube when you pass it to him. It simply feels...normal, as if you and him do this every night before bed.

I could get used to this.

Spencer's still a little groggy from the medication, so it isn't until he’s standing in the bedroom that he realizes that there’s a problem. "There's only one bed."

"Um, yeah," you reply. "What, did you think I had bunk beds?"

"No, I just..." He's not sure how to explain it when you're pulling back the covers like it’s any other night. "There's one bed... and two of us."

"That's correct. It's a queen. It's made for two people," you point out. You sit down on one side, then pat your hand on the other.

He slowly approaches the bed, but hesitates, twisting his fingers a little. Your expression shifts, and he blinks. Surely that's not a look of disappointment he's seeing?

Your voice is quiet when you speak. "Spencer, if you don't want to share a bed with me, you can just say it."

"What? No!" he exclaims. "That—that's not it at all."

"Okay, then, what is it?"

"The opposite,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I can't believe you want to share a bed with me."

"Why wouldn't I?" You say it so simply; he can hardly believe it.

"Well, because I'm... me," is the reply he comes up with. "I'm annoying, and I talk too much, and my limbs are all long and weird--"

"I don't think you're annoying, Spencer," you interrupt. "We wouldn't be friends if I did."

"Oh. I guess... I guess that's true. But my arms and legs--”

"Are fine,” you reassure.

“I…” He’s a little too out of it still to think of something else. “Well, okay.”

“Since that settled..." You smile up at him. "Would you get into bed?"

He can't help but smile back. "Okay."

You both settle in. Right before you turn off the light, he speaks again. "I talk in my sleep," he says quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. "Just thought you should know.

"So I'm gonna get your fun facts in the night, too?" you ask, the corner of your mouth turning up.

"Maybe." He fiddles with the collar of his shirt. "Derek says every night is a toss up between that or gibberish…”

You laugh. "Noted."

You turn the lights off and silence falls over the room as you both find comfortable positions. The medication definitely hasn't worn off; sleep is quickly approaching him again. He feels a light touch on his arm. It trails down to his wrist. A slight pause, then you're sliding your hand into his. On instinct he winds his fingers through yours. He hears a content sigh right before he drifts off.

---

Morning light spilling through the curtains wakes him up. He takes in a deep breath and stretches. He feels amazingly well rested; more than he has in a long time. And he had the best dream about you….

Spencer rolls over, then jumps a little—you're right there next to him, awake and looking at him with a soft expression.

"So it wasn't a dream," he says aloud.

You smile. "No, it wasn't.”

"We slept in the same bed," he says, dumbstruck.

"We did."

"You... held my hand?"

A nod and a bashful smile. “I did."

"Huh." He's quiet as he processes this and gathers his memories together. There's a question that comes to mind, but he doesn't know if he’s brave enough to voice it. Instead, he asks, "Did I sleep talk?"

"You did," you reply. "You told me the widest recorded tornado was 2.6 miles wide."

"The 2013 El Reno tornado," he says automatically. "It’s also the second most powerful tornado recorded. It occurred on May 31 of that year. Though it officially ranks as the widest tornado on record, current Doppler estimates of the 1999 Mullhall, Oklahoma tornado indicate that it may have been 4.3 miles wide."

You blink. "That's terrifying."

Spencer winces. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You hesitate a little, biting your lower lip, then slowly reach out and take his hand. Again, his fingers thread through yours perfectly.

He looks down at your joined hands, then back at you. His question from before returns. "What does this mean?" he asks quietly.

"It means..." You take a deep breath. "I like you.”

He frowns. "I know that. That's why we're friends."

"That's not what I meant." You squeeze his hand as if to remind him that you're holding it. "I meant that I like you as more than a friend."

His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?" he squeaks.

"Really," you confirm. "If you don't feel the same, I understa--”

You're cut off by him leaning forward and pressing the lightest little kiss on your lips.

"I like you as more than a friend, too," he says softly.

You give him the most wonderful smile. "Then get back here and kiss me properly."

Spencer obliges. He's never cared less about morning breath.

You scoot closer to him when you break apart and push his limbs around slightly to get into an embrace. "Finally," you murmur into the skin of his neck.

The sensation makes him shiver. “What do you mean?"

"I’ve been trying to get you into my bed for weeks."

He nearly chokes on his own sharp inhale. "I—what?"

"Not like that," you clarify. "I just wanted a good opportunity to confess. I figured you'd be too comfy in bed to run off right after I told you."

“You think I'd run off on you?"

You shrug. “You tend to remove yourself from a situation if your feelings get too intense. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case, it’s the last thing I wanted to happen, you know?”

"Yeah, I get that,” he says. "I promise not to do it with you, though. About anything.”

You lift your head to look him in the eyes. “Kiss me again."

Spencer does.

---------------

tell me what you thought here!

smut follow up: hands to myself

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[pascalpanic]

Sirenita (Marcus Moreno x f!Reader)

Summary: You and Marcus were supposed to have a wonderful long weekend to yourselves in his home. Your immune system has other plans.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, talk of having a cold and some of the gross details are included, talk of like mucus, sore throats, stomachaches etc. talk of sex and sexual flirting/innuendos.

A/N: I woke up this morning and have NO voice from a sore throat, after last night when I was researching Spanish terms of endearment and I found one to mean “little mermaid”... of course I had to write it! Thanks to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for reading this one for me :)

There are very few things that you love more than long weekends. There’s a definitive list of the things you do: Marcus Moreno sits at the very top. He’s your everything, really, your comfort and warmth and all of your heart is hidden within his. The second-place title goes to Missy Moreno. The little girl is your best friend, and you are hers. She’s funny and whip-smart, and she loves you like a mother figure.

Fourth place seems like a fitting spot for long weekends. As much as you love them, there are three things you love more, even though two and three might sound contradictory. Number Three in your heart is long weekends with Marcus where Missy isn’t home.

Missy is at an age where she’d much rather be with friends than family during her free time. You understand the feeling, remembering your days of spending leisurely days with friends and seeing your parents only when you came home to sleep.

As much as you and Marcus both adore the little girl, you empathize. Marcus is surprisingly lenient with her, allowing her to go to friends’ houses or come to theirs whenever she’d like. There was a long time where Missy didn’t have any friends at all. He’s more than willing to let her make up for lost time. It makes his heart swell to see his little girl happy again.

This long weekend, a dreary three days in the middle of March, was supposed to be wonderful. Missy made plans to go with her friend’s family to their lake house a few hours away, and you and Marcus were more than willing to hold down the house while she was gone.

Weekends are always too short. They’re never enough time for you to properly adore Marcus, to cuddle and fuck and do things and sleep and hang around the house. The two days are filled with driving Missy places, shopping for groceries and meal prepping for the Morenos and their busy weeks. If you’re lucky enough for Missy to fall asleep earlier than the two of you, you can sneak in a round of lovemaking in Marcus’s ridiculously plush bed.

That’s why three days are perfect: you can finish everything you need to, and still have time to cuddle on your boyfriend’s strong chest, to watch movies and lay around for a while, recovering from your hectic lives. When Marcus’s daughter isn’t home, you can wander the house in your underwear, can fuck spontaneously on the couch or in the kitchen or in the shower. The two of you can pretend you’re responsibility-free and young again for a while.

That had been your plan for the weekend, complete with a large package of condoms that had been discreetly delivered to your house and hidden in Marcus’s nightstand. Thursday found you with drained energy and pounding in your temples. You took a mucus relief pill and hoped for the best. Much to your chagrin, you’d come home from work on Friday night with a nagging cough and a dripping nose, feeling utterly miserable. You’d helped Missy pack and sent her on her way to her friend’s lake house with a large bag of snacks you’d helped her shop for.

The cold evolved over the course of the night, leaving you a whimpering mess in Marcus’s arms. Marcus made the two of you hot chocolate with almond milk, insisting that dairy would only make you produce more of the slime plaguing you. He was right, and you’d cuddled and sipped your hot beverages while you watched a movie you’d been waiting to see when Missy wasn’t home. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead, noting the heat radiating from your skin every time. If it ever felt warm, he’d insist you take your temperature again. The beeping of the little stick made you wince when you heard it now, but you were always relieved to find you didn’t have a fever.

You’d retired later than the two of you normally did, but it was still early in the night. As Marcus removed his glasses and set them on his nightstand, you cuddled into his chest and sighed. This was going to be a long night with your painful throat, and you hoped you wouldn’t wake Marcus.

It took a long time to fall asleep, despite Marcus’s steady breathing calming you. You’d got up and sat at the window, admiring the way the large tree in the Morenos’ backyard swayed and rustled with the gusts of wind. Marcus made the soft noises of a nightmare. He’s had many of them, too many, and it breaks your heart. You climbed back into bed and kissed at his neck and jaw just enough to wake him from the dream, then admired the rise and fall of his chest as he fell back asleep.

Around 2 A.M., you finally fell asleep.

-

When you wake in the morning, the Saturday sun filtering through the gauzy curtains you’d hung in the bedroom, Marcus is still deeply asleep. You roll over and take a deep gulp, taking inventory of the feelings in your body.

Your throat still stings, but nowhere near the level it hurt the past few days. That makes you sigh in relief. You still can’t breathe through one nostril, but that’s a minor effect. You yawn and attempt to pop your ears but they’re still too plugged.

The biggest issue you notice is in your stomach. It aches and churns, feeling just generally gross. You suppose the amount of your mucus in your stomach isn’t exactly helping your situation. Sighing again, you sit on the edge of the bed for a moment before standing next to it.

Marcus rolls over, frowning at the lack of your warmth, the emptiness in his arms. “Baby?” He asks, groggy and rough from sleep.

“Right here,” you say- or you try to. Your voice croaks from your throat, barely audible. Oh, shit.

Marcus opens his eyes as he looks over at you, frowning even deeper. “Are you okay?” he asks, sitting up and putting on his glasses. It’s a small relief to see that you’re right next to him and not visibly pained or distraught.

“Fine, yeah,” you say, but your hand flies to your throat, coughing and trying to clear it. You chuckle, the raspy and cracking voice sound filling the room.

Marcus laughs softly. “How do you feel?” He asks gently, taking one of your hands.

“Okay. Better, actually, but my voice is just…” you sigh at the strain of talking. “And my stomach feels like absolute shit.”

He frowns, pushing the covers off from his lap. “Well, you should eat something. Let’s get you some breakfast, huh? I’ll make you some toast,” he offers, standing up and pulling you alongside him as he begins to walk.

He’s warm, and you’re unbearably hot. “Sure,” you nod and scoot away from him. He looks at you with sad eyes and you offer an apologetic smile. “I’m just really warm, I’m sorry.”

Marcus’s eyes are filled with understanding and he nods. “You wanna take a cool shower and I’ll make you some breakfast?” He asks, just taking your hand instead.

“Please,” you smile and kiss his cheek. “I love you so much,” you whisper, finding that at least you can sound somewhat normal if you speak in such a low tone.

“Love you too, beautiful,” he chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re like Ariel. Did some kind of mean sea witch steal your voice?” He asks teasingly, making you croak out a laugh.

“Just call me the little mermaid,” you sigh, swallowing and wincing at the pain.

“You know, that’s a nickname my dad called my mom when I was little. Sirenita. It literally means little mermaid,” he smiles down at you, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. “Go hop in the shower. It’ll feel good.”

You nod and obey, heading back in the bedroom and into the attached bathroom. You take a nice shower, and the cool water feels good on your warm skin. You turn up the heat a little and relish in the way the steam soothes your nose, makes everything feel just a little better. Once you’re done, you dry your hair and pull on a tank top and a pair of Marcus’s sweatpants, wandering downstairs.

Being Marcus, he’s made a gorgeous spread of food for you. There is toast and fruit, scrambled eggs, all kinds of foods. “Hi. I didn’t know how much flavor you could tolerate, so I just-”

He’s cut off when you throw your arms around him and kiss the side of his face. “Thank you,” you rasp out, squeezing him tight. “You’re the best man on Earth. How are you so cute?”

He’s about to respond but there’s a high pitched noise and he turns quickly, out of your arms. “Oh, I’m making tea for you too,” he tells you and kisses the bridge of your nose before he grabs the kettle from the stove.

“You literally just proved my point further,” you laugh and follow him along, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “I know we had all kinds of grand plans for this weekend, but I think we need to put today’s on hold.”

He smiles at the feeling, putting one hand atop of your arm. “Oh, I know. It’s alright. We’ve still got two more days,” he assures you and rubs your arm slowly with his strong hands, the other one pouring the kettle into two mugs with tea bags.

“God, I don’t deserve you,” you sigh and let go to stand next to him, pulling the tea bag and watching it bob in the water.

Marcus frowns, a few lines in his forehead. “Yes you do. You deserve everything I can do for you and more, mi sirenita,” he says softly, looking down at you. “And what you deserve today, especially with how you’re feeling, is rest. So I’ve made us an alternate plan.”

“Oh yeah?” You croak.

“You got it. The first part is that you don’t talk for the rest of the day. I’ll only ask you yes or no questions,” he tells you as he picks up the two mugs. “We’re just going to cuddle in bed or on the couch and binge watch that new series we’ve been meaning to watch. You’ll only get up to go to the bathroom, and I’ll get you everything else. My mom is going to bring some of her famous soup over later, she texted me, and we’ll have that for dinner. Does that sound good?”

You pout at him with big and loving eyes. “That’s so sweet,” you coo and reach for the mug of tea.

He pulls it back and raises an eyebrow, teasingly smiling. “Ah. No more talking starting… now. Does that sound good?” He repeats, holding the mugs far from your body. You nod and he grins, handing you the mug.

“Good.” Marcus kisses your head softly. “Alright, babe. You want honey and lemon in this?” He asks as he prepares his own tea.

Once again, you nod. Marcus never said anything about phones. You pull it from your pocket, and an automated voice speaks what you type for you.

“Marcus Moreno you are a little shit and I adore your cute butt,” a robotic voice vocalizes for you. He turns and you grin as you hold up the phone, giggling softly. You type in more words for it. “Hello Marcus it is me I am a cyborg now. Marcus Moreno has a cute ass and the world knows it because he is famous and I am eternally grateful for that.”

Marcus frowns. “Stop making that thing talk about my ass.”

“I am solely using this to objectify you now that you said that. Marcus Moreno has washboard abs and is really sexy. Marcus Moreno’s ass is squishier than it looks. The reason Marcus has such strong thighs is because he fucks like a machine. Marcus Moreno is a DILF.” You’re giggling uncontrollably now.

“Give me that goddamn thing, I swear to God,” he laughs and tries to steal it from you. You jerk it back with a squeal, and Marcus leans forward again to grab it. “You can’t run from me with that thing. It’s metal.”

You break your promise not to speak. “I can try!” You squeal and the Heroic lunges for you again. With a squeak, you take off into the living room, dodging around and running through the maze of the couch and coffee table.

You stumble a little, your arms waving in the air as you try to catch your balance. That’s the perfect moment, and the phone in your hand zips through the air and into Marcus’s palm. “Goddamnit,” you whine and flop down on the couch, lying on your back.

Marcus shakes his head but he’s smiling. “It was all cute until you called me a DILF.” He walks until he’s standing at your side.

“You are,” you grin up at him, voice crackling. “You’re a dad and I’d like to fuck you.”

Rolling his eyes, Marcus bends down and lifts you up, making you squeal again. “Jesus Christ,” he sighs, but you can practically hear the smile in his voice as he fireman-carries you to the kitchen. “I told you not to talk. I told you to relax. And what do you do?”

“Sorry,” you laugh, your face nearly pressed into his back as he holds you over his shoulder. “Couldn’t help it. It just sounded hilarious. I had to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets you down and playfully smacks your ass, stealing a quick kiss before pulling a chair out from the table. “Eat.”

Shaking your head, you laugh. “I suppose that’s a good idea.” You grab a fork and scoop up some of the various foods. “I love you so much.

“No talking, little mermaid,” he reminds you, taking a sip from his cooled tea.

“I like that better in Spanish,” you murmur as you take a sip of the hot tea and sigh at the relief.

“What, you like sirenita?”

You smile and nod, going back to your vow of silence as you eat some of the breakfast. The two of you eat together quietly, in the comfortable lull that the two of you are so good at. Marcus isn’t a huge talker, and he appreciates a partner who can leave the silence in the air without needing to fill it. The quiet clanks of your metal utensils against the porcelain plates is enough.

You sigh when you finish your food, a wave of exhaustion coming over your body once more now that your stomach is settled and most things feel better than before. Marcus looks over at you and smiles. “Alright, Princess Ariel. Oh, does that make me Prince Eric?” He asks with a laugh.

You nod excitedly, trying not to speak, but you have to. “You look just like him.”

“First of all, no I do not, and second of all, no more talking.”

“I can make that decision,” you tease, though you know he’s doing it out of love. “You do. You’re tall and have pretty wavy dark hair and you’re ripped.”

“Missing the blue eyes.”

“I like brown better anyway,” you tell him with a lovestruck smile. You take the last sip of your tea, your eyes falling shut.

Marcus’s love would taste like tea, you think: warm honey, delicate flowers, spiced and flavorful herbs, earthy leaves, bright citrus, and warmth that soothes any ache you can possibly feel.

The weight of your eyelids is growing heavy, and Marcus can tell. “Well, mi amor,” he chuckles and stands. “You look tired.”

For once, you don’t disagree. “I am. I love you.”

“I love you too, sirenita. Let’s get you to bed.” Marcus carries you up the stairs as you nestle into his chest, sighing. There’s nowhere better than here.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Forget Me Not (Part 2)

Summary: One day Dean seems to remember the reader which gives her hope about maybe getting him back home. But something isn’t sitting right with the reader when she looks into his medication...

Part 1

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, mentions of death

______

“Hi Dean,” you said, taking a seat across from him at lunch. He glanced at you, staring at your visitors badge.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. You froze in place, Dean going back to shoveling some ravioli in his mouth. 

“You know my name?” you asked.

“I remember my girlfriend’s name,” he said with a smile. “Although I suppose we aren’t dating anymore.”

“Dean, what-“

“I sort of unsnapped this morning. I was watching freaking Lassie with the goldfish guy and the chick with that wears the pink bucket on her head and I was just like what the fuck am I doing in here? Sammy didn’t want this for me. I got issues but shit, you come see me every single day and...I remember those conversations now. I’m tired of being scared and I want to be attached to people. Being alone sucks,” he said.

“Let’s talk to the doctor after lunch and see if we can work on getting you out of here.”

“So he’s an involuntary patient now is what you’re saying,” you said, crossing your arms in the doctor’s office.

“He had a mental snap. That’s not something to be taken lightly,” he said.

“I have been coming here every single day for months. I was stuck here for two months if you remember, Dr. Devon. I know what crazy is. Dean is not crazy. He was scared and now he’s decided he’s not going to be so what’s the problem with taking him home?” you said.

“Sane people don’t have mental snaps,” he said. 

“Can I take him out for an hour or two at least?” you asked.

“No. It’s too much for him and I don’t want him to have a reliance on you,” he said.

“Reliance? Sorry I’m not like all these other poor people’s families and don’t come visit them. I’m quite literally the only person he’s got left and I’m not leaving him behind.”

“Are you sure you don’t have an unhealthy obsession with-“

“I���m in love with him. You should try it sometime. Might fill that pit in your chest,” you shot back, slamming the door on the way out.

“Hi,” said Dean the next day. You forced a smile on your face, Dean shaking his head. “Don’t pretend to be happy just for me.”

“They won’t let you leave on account of what happened,” you said.

“I figured. I may have snuck back and took a look at my chart.”

“Always the troublemaker,” you said, rubbing your hand through his hair.

“Apparently I’m nuts. I do have a favor to ask though,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Sam’s birthday was last week. Can you get some flowers or something and put them by wherever he wound up?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I can do that. You got your days all settled again?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Y/N...I don’t think they’re ever going to be letting me out of this place. I don’t want you to be stuck to me. You don’t...you don’t have to stay.”

“Wow. That might just be the craziest thing you have ever said to me,” you said, Dean rolling his eyes. “Uh uh. Sorry but you’re stuck with me.”

“But why? I’m like the world’s worst boyfriend,” he said.

“I had the world’s worst boyfriend. The abusive one I killed, remember? You got scared Dean. Sam was...he didn’t look like Sam after he died and you had to see that from what they said and were trapped in that car with him for close to an hour. That was your worst nightmare and you were forced to live through it. I’m so sorry you had to see that baby and that you lost Sam that night. I am. But you’re allowed to get scared over it.”

“I didn’t get scared, Y/N. I had a mental breakdown,” he said.

“Well I had one too when I shot that asshole that used to hurt me,” you said. “I’m not abandoning you Dean. You saved me from this place and I’m gonna save you from it too.”

“Pill time Mr. Winchester,” said a nurse, setting down two paper cups in front of Dean.

“We’re having a conversation,” you said.

“Just forget it. I don’t want to get in trouble with nurse Rachet,” said Dean, tossing them back.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

“Do you even know what those pills are for?” you asked.

“They make me sleepy and zone out I suppose,” said Dean, scratching his head. “They always gave them to me here.”

“Even when you were voluntary?” you asked. He nodded, licking his lips.

“Always makes me thirsty,” he said.

“They didn’t give me anything when I came here and I was definitely involuntary,” you said.

“Maybe they always knew I was nuts,” he said.

“Did Sam know they gave you pills?” you asked.

“No...what are you thinking while I’m still coherent enough for this conversation,” he said.

“I don’t know...I...honestly I always thought it was strange how you reacted after the accident. I mean, you did so well after you left and moved in with Sam. I know you were scared at first but a week later you were perfectly okay,” you said.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“What meds are they giving you?” you asked. 

“Uh, I’m not gonna be able to pronounce it,” he said. 

“Take my phone and go snap a picture of your file,” you said, handing it over under the table. “I’m gonna get the nurse to leave the station.”

“How?” he said.

“By acting like a dumbass,” you said, knocking Dean’s cup off the table. You stood up and stood in the liquid, making a show of slipping and falling to the ground. You shut your eyes, some feet moving around and you played dumb, peeling open your eyes to catch Dean pop out of the nurses station. “Sorry. I’m a klutz.”

You gave Dean a hug goodbye after you got to your feet, your phone getting slid back in your pocket.

“Be safe in here, Dean,” you said.

“Be safe out there,” he said quietly. 

“Do me a favor and throw up that medicine if you get the chance,” you said.

“No complaints from me.”

“Those motherfuckers,” you said that night, running your hands over your face as you looked at your computer. The medicine Dean was on was great for people with severe mental problems like psychosis or those that couldn’t differentiate reality from fantasy or hallucinations. When given to a perfectly normal person though, it fucked them up pretty good.

Dean hit every single one of the side effects. Memory loss, mood changes, depression, anxiety, exaggerated fears. In small doses like he’d gotten during his first stay, it probably fed into his anxiety which turned into fear which probably kept him there. In a larger dose though, it would have caused him to forget about you, the accident, Sam.

“Why are they drugging you, baby,” you said to yourself, tucking your knees into your chest. “Why would they want to keep you there…”

You sighed and pursed your lips, trying to think of why Dean went in the first place. He’d always said it’d been voluntary but maybe he’d been drugged before hand and…

“That’s crazy,” you groaned. You stood and went back to your kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. There was a knock on your back slider door and you jumped. Grabbing a knife you looked over at it, your hand immediately dropping it. Quickly you went over and opened it, shutting it after a moment while your glass of water was gulped down.

By Sam fucking Winchester.

“Thanks,” breathed Sam, filling it up again before he slid down the cabinets and started to drink.

“Are you a zombie,” you said, looking him up and down. He stared at you and rolled his eyes. “You don’t look like a zombie.”

“I’m not dead, Y/N. I never was,” said Sam, closing his eyes. “I got fucking kidnapped.”

“What?”

“I’m a lawyer. I apparently won a case I shouldn’t have and now my life is a living hell,” said Sam, crawling over to your fridge. He opened it up and looked around, stealing a sandwich from the shelf.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Oh, I’ve had a hell of a time the past few months,” he said. “Listen, about Dean-”

“He’s being drugged to make him a bit on edge or occasionally crazy. Yeah, figured that one out today,” you said. Sam nodded and took a bite of his food.

“The car accident wasn’t an accident. Someone hit us and they shoved a big ass needle in his arm and then I think when he woke up, he got fed a story that he believed because of whatever they gave him. We, and by we I mean you, need to get him out of there,” said Sam.

“He’s involuntary. I’ve tried,” you said.

“Is it that bastard Devon? I’m pretty sure he works for these people,” said Sam.

“Okay but why would someone drug Dean before they kidnapped you?” you asked.

“Dean has never been the most emotionally healthy person. I won’t pretend that but he’s never been nuts a day in his life. He went out with this guy’s daughter. The next day, he admits himself to that hospital. She drugged him. She drugged him and got him in there where Devon could keep feeding him meds. Then you encouraged him to leave and he did. He couldn’t force Dean to stay since he wasn’t any danger. It was all part of a long con I found out. This way, once they kidnapped me again, Dean would go back in and I was told very clearly that they can get in but he can’t get out.”

“They were holding him captive without anyone besides Devon even realizing,” you said, putting your hands on your head. “Shit Sam.”

“I know. The drugs probably help keep up the illusion. But Dean’s starting to get used to the meds which is why they finally let me out,” he said. “Now that I am properly incentivized, I’ll do what they say.”

“What exactly are you going to do? This guy’s already in jail, isn’t he?”

“I’m going to take the fall and say I planted evidence and I did it. I didn’t die, I ran to protect myself. If I don’t, Dean gets a big dose tomorrow morning, one that will either kill him or...turn him to mush. I don’t know but it is my fault he is trapped in there and it’s my fault he’s felt like shit for so long and he didn’t deserve any of it. I need your help, Y/N. Please.”

“It’s not your fault Sam and you’re not going to do what they said. We’re going to get Dean out and get these guys,” you said.

“Y/N, there’s no way. I just...I need you to look after Dean for me after I’m gone. Please,” he said.

“Do it yourself. We’re getting him out. Tonight.”

“How? It’s-”

“Sam. You seem to have forgotten that the last guy that hurt me, I killed him. Whoever these people are, they hurt me and my boys. I am sure you’re a whole lotta jacked up and hiding it right now which is fine but we’ll deal with it later. These people got a weak spot. You just aren’t seeing it.”

“What’s that?”

“He has a daughter, Sam.”

“Hello, Helena,” you said with a smile a few hours later. She narrowed her eyes at you from where Sam held her back in the middle of her bedroom. 

“Do you have any idea who my father-”

“Crime boss. Yes, we know who your father is,” you said. “Yes, I’m sure he’s going to kill us and blah blah. I am more interested in knowing if you care about what you’ve done on behalf of your father.”

“What wouldn’t a daughter do for her father?” she smirked.

“Don’t make it creepy. I’m talking about Dean Winchester. You drugged him last year, got him to admit himself to the institute down the road,” you said.

“So?”

“Well, your family has been feeding him drugs that aren’t too friendly with those not suffering from certain conditions. I was simply wondering if you’d like to experience what Dean’s been dealing with,” you said. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small case, unzipping it to reveal a capped syringe.

“You’re nuts,” she said, squirming against Sam.

“No, but you’re about to be,” you said, taking off the top. “Which arm? I’ll let you pick.”

“I didn’t drug him!”

“Yeah you did,” you said, flicking the syringe.

“Okay, I did at the bar but dad just said the guy owed money. He didn’t say…” she said, staring at you. “That’s saline, isn’t it.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, putting it back in the case. “I did not figure you for an asshole Helena and the torturing type. But that’s what your father did. He hurt my boyfriend. He hurt my friend right there behind you. They weren’t bad people. My friend did his job as a lawyer and that is all.”

Sam released her and she shrugged him off, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not asking you to turn on your father or your family,” you said, her gaze wandering over to yours. “I’m not even going to threaten you. I just want you to tell me how to get your dad to back off.”

“If he’s a lawyer I’m guessing you put away one of dad’s guys,” she said, looking at Sam. “That must make you Mr. Winchester. You put away Burt, dad’s second in command.”

“Yes, I did. He killed a young woman,” said Sam.

“I know. She was my friend. Who do you think the anonymous tip came from,” she said. 

“Then help us, Helena,” you said. “Help your friend. Don’t let him get out.”

“...What do you need me to do.”

Two Days Later

“Hey, Dean,” you said, popping into his hospital room to find him fast asleep in his bed, his detox bag going through him still. Sam was in the other bed, a few injuries wrapped up as he took a nap. 

“Y/N,” said Dr. Martin, waving you out to the hall. 

“The boys doing better today? I wanted to see if I could bring them lunch by,” you said.

“Sam’s injuries are healing. Dean’s system is nearly flushed of any traces of the drugs. Physically, they’re both doing well. Mentally, I’m going to recommend some individual and family therapy for everyone,” he said.

“Probably not a bad idea,” you said, smiling as you glanced in the room. “How are they really?”

“Sam is experiencing what we’d expect him to. Dean, I don’t suspect there will be any long lasting effects but the next week is going to be rough for him, the both of them,” he said. “I would just be gentle with them both for now and encourage them to talk but don’t push.”

“Thank you,” you said. You ducked into their room and took a seat in a chair, kicking up your feet with a sigh. “You’ll be alright boys.”

“I’m home,” you said a few days later, carrying a mountain of groceries under your arms. “Boys!”

You heard nothing and carried the bags into the kitchen, smirking when you looked out the back window and saw them each laying on one of your patio chairs.

“How are you two doing?” you asked, ruffling Dean’s head. 

“Enjoying freedom,” said Sam, stretching out in his seat. “I’ll grab the rest of the groceries. You’ve been going like crazy the past few days, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Sam. I picked up some stuff for burgers later, figured maybe we could grill,” you said. “I got ground turkey for you.”

“Sounds great,” said Sam. He popped inside and you ran your fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Feeling more with it today?” you asked.

“Yeah. More of those gaps are filling in. Thanks for getting me out of there,” he said.

“You never needed to be there,” you said. He reached up and grabbed your hand, smiling as he looked up at you. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that again though. You could have wound up hurt or worse,” he said.

“I can hold my own,” you said. “I love you, De.”

“I love you,” he said, reaching up and pulling your face down to his. “Thanks for not giving up on me, sweetheart.”

“Never, Dean.”

______

[haziel-luz]

Will It Be the Same?

Chapter 3:  Whatever Happens, is Meant to Happen  

(Lucifer x Reader)

Getting through the day with the weak amount of energy you had today was stressful enough, but trying to get by with just a string of your sanity is overbearing. You're hunched over the microscope, focusing on any sort of difference between each sample, even if it’s a slight difference. This helps you distract yourself from accidentally looking through peoples mind or discover something else.

“(Y/n), how’s it going there bestie!” Ella popped up from beside you with a pat on your back. The surprising greeting made you flinch away in fear. Ella quickly frowned, confusion and worry, this was just so sudden.

“Oh sorry Els, it’s going good. I found the difference between these samples from the crime scene. They almost tried to sneak past me.” You smiled nervously and tried to add some humor to lighten the mood you ruined.

“That’s great..Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really fidgety since this morning, it’s like you’ve been avoiding stuff.” Ella gets closer and holds both of your arms gently, trying to soothe you.

“Just a nightmare I had last night. Nothing I can’t handle.” You composed yourself and smiled at her reassuringly. Ella didn’t seemed too convinced, but she let it go anyways

“Alright, try not to work so hard. I want you to come with me at the next crime scene. I’m gonna go get us some coffee before we go.” Ella rubs your arm and walks out of the lab room. You felt like you probably should’ve been more convincing. If she could see you all jumpy then everyone else can too, and you don’t need that kind of attention. You rubbed your temples and breathed in and out to see if you can calm your own nerves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Decker, I’m gonna steal your partner. Be back in a giffy!” Ella pops at Chloe’s desk out of nowhere, startling her a bit. Ella wasted no time to drag Lucifer towards the coffee and snack area, leaving Chloe confused. Lucifer tried to protest but Ella didn’t even give him the chance to complain.

“Sorry about that but I need your help with something.” Ella’s serious tone caught Lucifer’s attention. Lucifer seemed interested and surprised by Ella’s change of expression.

“I believe you’ve forgotten the old Lopez charm back there.” Lucifer pointed out with a grin. Ella isn’t one to have serious expressions.

“I’m serious Lucifer...it’s about (Y/n). I was wondering if you can give Linda a call so that (Y/n) can go see her. I don’t have much right now but I’ll chip in as much as I can.” Ella poured coffee on both mugs, and looked at him pleadingly.

“Now why on earth would (Y/n) want to see the good doctor?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Ella, trying to dig for more information on (Y/n).

“I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to. You see Lucifer, I’ve been trying to be patient for her to tell me all her problems but it isn’t working. She might just need professional help. So can you do me a favor and call Linda?” Ella sighs tiredly and picks up both mugs.

“Alright Ms.Lopez, I’ll pay for the appointment myself, although you do owe me a favor later on. Deal?” Lucifer grins at Ella.

“Deal. Thanks Lucifer, it means alot.” Ella smiles happily at Lucifer and turns to go back to the lab you both were in.

“Indeed..” Lucifer grins and takes out his flask and takes a sip. If he couldn’t bring out more information about you directly, then maybe he can ask Linda everything she knows about you. Lucifer takes out his phone and dials the number of his therapist.

“Lucifer? I hope this is something important.” Linda sighs tiredly through the phone.

“Why yes it is doctor.” Lucifer turns to see you laughing with Ella in the lab. Lucifer’s grin falters into a concern gaze when he realizes how tired you looked. With one simple look at you and somehow he just wants to help you anyway he can, and it really frustrates him. Why the hell would he be automatically more concerned about you than his situation with the detective?

‘What the bloody hell is this?!’ Lucifer thought to himself and sighs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sooo~ you have any plans after this?” Ella asked, taking pictures of the corpse. It made you shiver each time you saw a dead body but you made sure you didn’t show it. You wanted to help Ella in every way you could.

“Nah, not really. Why got something in mind?” You were taking notes of the crime scene and what Ella observes.

“I do, and uh..” Her voice falters when she takes a moment to look at you. You look exhausted and it broke her heart that you aren’t willing to take the time to process and resolve your traumatic experience. It was hell for Ella, waiting for months just to know you were okay, and more months to see you again for her own eyes.

“And what? Are you alright Els?” You gave her a confused look, Els was never one to stop mid-sentence. Ella stayed silent for a moment, battling her inner thoughts while looking at the dead body. You don’t interrupt her thinking or even invade her thoughts.

“Have..you ever thought about going to a therapist?” Ella’s sudden question caught you off guard. She took some more pictures to fill in some silence on your part. She could somehow alway see right through you. It surprises you most of the time, but right now you really wished she didn’t pay attention to your invisible suffering.

“Uh..sometimes.” You answered, crouching down next to her. You knew this was a conversation only between you two.

“How come you haven’t tried?” She sighed and lowered her camera.

“Think about it Els, you're the only one who knows I can read minds. The story behind that isn’t...believable. What kind of therapist would take me seriously?” You told her and rubbed your temple. Ella noticed that your headache was starting again, she quickly pulled out pain killers and gave them to you. Thanking her, you took the pills and hoped that they kicked in sooner before it got stronger.

“I know a therapist that can help, she’s a good friend of mine. It would really mean alot if you at least gave her a shot. Please?” Ella looked at you with serious and pleading eyes. Damn her charms! You really can’t say no to that. You groaned and watched her grin at her victory.

“Fine. I’ll only try it once, and if it doesn’t work well, then can we drop the therapy subject?” You huffed while taking notes.

“Yup!” Ella hugged you tightly and you couldn’t but smile while you were taking notes. You have such a soft spot for Ella, and she knows it.

“Hey Ella, (Y/n). What do we have?” Chloe smiled while approaching with Lucifer. Ella broke from her embrace and started looking at the corpse.

“This is Wesly Rogers, choked to death by a wire while watching sports.” Ella pointed to the t.v behind them and continued. “Apparently he was just a science teacher, such a normal dude for a brutal death. He didn’t even get to see who won. Shame.” Ella sighed and shook her head.

“What’s more shameful is his outfit, such a nice house and he can’t even dress like he does.” Lucifer looks around the living room and then back at Wesly with disgust. You chuckled at his change of topic and Ella shook her head with a small snort. Chloe looked at Lucifer and rolled her eyes.

“That’s it? Just a crime of passion?” Chloe raised an eyebrow at the corpse and back to Ella.

“The evidence points to that direction but whoever murdered him is pretty much a pro. Wesly here fought back and normally you would scratch people or something, but his fingernails are squeaky clean. There’s no sign of fingerprints and no force entry.” You spoke up and stood up with Ella.

“That’s weird..does he have any family? A background?” Chloe asked and you gave her your notes.

“From what we got, he was just an orphan and has never been adopted. No girlfriend, wife, kids, nada. Dude just hangs out with teachers and students.” Ella responded and shrugs, packing her camera.

“Well, I guess he doesn’t need a love life since he’s so used to being lonely.” Chloe commented bitterly while giving you your notes back. You mentally winced at the comment, you looked at Lucifer and he stared at her with a frown. ‘Not today guys...’ You packed your notes.

Before Lucifer could say a word, Chloe took the file from an officer and left. You and Ella looked at each other, you were visibly uncomfortable. You can tell that she was trying to communicate with you through her thoughts, so you took the invitation.

‘Got any idea on what that’s about?’ Ella asked acting naturally while looking through some other notes you didn’t put away.

‘Two words. Living. Nightmare.’ You quietly huffed.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She frowned slightly at your response.

‘I may have accidentally...split my subconscious from my body in my sleep, and maybe my subconscious side was somehow placed in Lucifer’s penthouse.’ You kept your head down in embarrassment, staring at the notes.

‘Okay? What does that have to do with their relationship drama?’ Ella seemed confused.

‘I uh-I witnessed them doing..sexual activities and then argued right after. Literally a second after they were done..’ You elaborated and her eyes widened like saucers.

“Hello? Is there something in those notes that are more interesting than yours truly?” Lucifer waved his hands in front of you two, making you both snap out of your inner conversation.

“Sorry bro, uh we were just going through this one last time.” Ella explained and gave you the rest of the notes for you to pack.

“As I was saying, would either of you be interested in my assistance today?” Lucifer asked.

“That’s sweet Lucifer, but we got everything under control here.” You sympathetically smiled at the poor guy.

“Yes, of course..” Lucifer sighed and turned to walk out the crime scene. Unfortunately, having an optimistic friend that loves to help out those in need couldn’t just give you a break.

“But! We might need some help with files, papers, and all that sorts of stuff. I still got some research to do on this dead guy, so (Y/n) will be really lonely. Wouldn’t want to stress her out, you know?” Ella smiled at Lucifer while patting your shoulder, your eyes went to Ella’s.

‘Seriously? After what I told you, you're gonna have me stuck in a room with him?’ You groaned mentally.

‘Oh grow up, it’s just sex and drama. The typical love life if you ask me. Come on, look at him, he looks sad.’ Ella lightly scolded you and you turned to look at Lucifer. You noticed he had a gleam of hope in his eyes and you mentally sighed.

“Yea, I forgot you were busy too Els. I wouldn’t mind having extra help.” You gave him a smile, hopefully convincing him that you're alright with this.

“Perfect! I’ll be there when you're ready.” Lucifer smiled and left the crime scene.

‘You owe me for this Els.’

‘Don’t I always?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How can you live with these boring duties?” Lucifer pulled out his flask and took a swig.

“You wanted to help with the boring stuff, welcome to hell buddy, not everything is as exciting as being in the field.” You scoffed lightly at his complaint.

“Trust me, this is much more exciting than hell itself.” Lucifer snorts and shakes his head. You put the files away, thankful that the endless piles of papers are over.

“I don’t know about that, I’m actually mentally preparing myself when the time comes." You jokingly said while texting Ella about your completed task. You were expecting a laugh but all you heard was silence. His silence was getting a little uncomfortable until he finally spoke.

"What would make you believe that you belong in hell?" His voice was surprisingly soft. You stopped typing and your eyes met his. From your point of view, you saw concern and curiosity. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, he's trying to understand you.

"Just a feeling, you know? I'm not very Christian, although I do believe in the 'big guy' as Ella would call him." You chuckled, thinking about your friend. "I'm far from perfect, like way far. For me, it all depends on what you die for instead of what you live for. You can be a saint all your life and still go to hell." You continued your explanation while finishing your text to Ella. It's strange that you're having this conversation with him of all people.

"What, so you have faith in dear ol' dad on your death? Despite everything he could've helped you go through in your life, you deliberately choose to trust him in your last seconds of life?" Lucifer scoffs and stands from his stool to walk towards you. You're surprised by his argument, this topic must be really sensitive. 'Dear ol' dad? Seriously?'

"He might've made me Lucifer, but he didn't create my future, because if he did then I should feel like I'm going somewhere. This isn't about who I believe in at the end of the day. Why are you so in depth with this conversation anyways?" You raised your eyebrow at him while he towered over you.

“You shouldn’t be speaking so freely about death, especially where you’ll end up. Unless… there’s something you regret dearly, your deepest darkest desire perhaps?” Lucifer loses his irritated pose and leans a bit, making you cautiously lean back.

“Uh-Lucifer, I don’t know what you're trying to pull out of this conversation but since we’re done here, how about I go catch up with Ella and you can see what Chloe is up to.” You stood up from your stool and walked around him to the door. You’re really trying to stay out of his thoughts, somehow it’s harder with him and you just don’t get it. ‘Come on chica, you were doing so well today.’ You scolded yourself mentally.

Just when you opened the door, an arm reached out from behind you and closed it. You yelped when you were sharply turned around and pinned against the door by your shoulders. Your startled eyes quickly made contact with Lucifer’s frustrated orbs. You don’t know what came over him. One moment you two were having a playful conversation and then it was somehow flipped upside down.

“Lucifer, what are you doing? Let go!” Your voice was loud enough to become a warning, but not enough to alert the noisy precinct. You tried to struggle but his grip only tightened on your shoulders.

“I’ve clearly had enough with the ‘innocent human’ facade, my dear. A six month  disappearance and you come back as someone ‘special’? Ray has certainly been cautious around you but I would love to get to the bloody point.” Lucifer scoffs at your acting, which was something you weren’t doing at all. You froze at the mention of your disappearance and Ray-Ray. That information made you scared and confused.

“H-how do you know about that and R-Ray-Ray?” Your eyes widen, turning pale. You thought that you and Ella were the only ones that could see the ghost. Just like you thought no one else knew about those six months you refused to think about.

“I have my connections. Now that we’ve cleared the air, how about you answer my questions. Did my father send you to meddle with my life?” Lucifer glared, making you feel tiny and weak. He wasn’t the Lucifer you first met, he’s darker...almost dangerous.

“Your father? Lucifer what the fuck has gotten into you, I didn’t know you even existed until you broke into Ella’s apartment. Now let me go!” You couldn’t take the forceful interrogation any longer, this behavior has just opened old wounds you never wanted to think of again. You tried kicking him off of you, but he stayed in place like a fucking wall, not even a centimeter away from you.

“Ugh, stubborn as a mule. Very well then, you brought this upon yourself.” Lucifer grumbled, making you stand up straight against the door. He straightened out his shoulders and leaned in, his dark orbs piercing into your delicate ones. “What, do tell, is your deepest desire?” His voice rumbled darkly, like he’s putting a spell on you.

The second he asked that question, your eyes couldn’t look away from his. It was as if his eyes were the strongest magnets in the universe. You couldn’t concentrate on your own thoughts, your surroundings, or the situation. Your mind was filled with many memories all at once. The memories that were spilling out weren’t sweet, they were horrible. It was a recap of the woman you used to be to the woman you are now.

Tears started to blur your eyes. The woman you were before was the woman you wanted to be now. Not this..freak of nature..

Lucifer was concentrating even harder, he was amused by the strong willpower she had to refuse to confess her desires. Noticing her tears, Lucifer froze in place and stared at her tear stained cheeks. Watching them fall, his face changed from menacing to guilt. Here he was, angry at the thought of his father tweaking his life as if he needed a path to follow, that he didn’t notice the pain he was inflicting on to you.

Lucifer stopped his mojo and loosened his grip on your shoulders, but it was too late. Your breathing was shallow, tears continuing to fall. You were starting to hear those voices again, the ones in your memories, from the precinct, and the one in front of you. You instinctively put your hands up to cover your ears, knowing that it wouldn’t help. You whimpered and you were finally able to close your eyes. Your fear, anger, and desperation got the best of you...and your abilities.

‘Let me GO! LET ME GO!’ A voice rang out in an empty dark room. Lucifer’s eyes widened and turned his head to the corner of the room. The corner of the forensic room was darker than it originally was. He saw a girl, with disheveled hair, bloody clothes, just a fragile and weak form.

‘Please..someone help me please...LET ME OUT!’ The girl hit the wall with a heart wrenching sob. Her face finally revealed to be...you. Lucifer’s breath hitched and he turned back to you, your eyes were closed tight and you kept covering your eyes, as if you were desperately trying to block the horrible scene. Lucifer was shocked, it was impossible for a mortal to do such things. His father would never allow it, not even if it was meant to set him on some kind of path. This was something that neither heaven or hell has ever created.

Lucifer reached out to your hands covering your ears and tried to talk calmly over the suffering voice in the corner of the lab. “(Y/n), listen to me, it’s over now. There’s nothing for you to suffer from anymore.” His calm voice made you open your blurry teary eyes. Your hands were trembling under his touch.

“There you go, now take a deep breath and concentrate on me, can you do that?” Lucifer took a hold of your hands gently. You took a deep breath and stared into his eyes, your vision clearing up from all the tears. “That’s right, come back to me darling.” He put his hands on your cheeks to wipe away your tears. All you saw in his eyes was nothing but care and guilt. Your mind came back to reality, voices and memories fading away, coming back to the light.

Lucifer turned to see if the other suffering you was still there but it was gone. It was just the original corner of the white forensic lab. Staring at his confusion, you realized he saw a snippet of your memories from your disappearance. He turned towards you again and removed his hands from your face slowly.

Processing and remembering what led to this point, you backed up a bit and glared at him. You were boiling mad, the way he somehow forced you to open those wounds again. How he was controlling and manipulating your mind for his own benefit. He noticed your body language and he tried to reach out to your cheeks again.

“I...I’m sor-” You slapped his hands away harshly and bolted out the door. Lucifer tried to follow you but you stopped short when you bumped into Ella and Chloe. Right on cue.

“(Y/n)? Hey, what happened?” Ella looked into your eyes with warmth and comfort. You choked a sob and hugged her close to you, burying your face in her shoulder. Ella held you close, surprised that you broke into tears. She wanted to desperately understand what you're going through, like she always wanted to when you came back.

Lucifer was close by, this made Chloe tense. Did he show you his true form? Ella’s attention went to Lucifer’s guilty form, making her in protective mode.

“What the hell did you do?" Ella glared at him and held you closer like a momma bear with her cub. Lucifer’s mouth opened slightly but closed again, he didn’t know how to explain this, especially since Ella doesn’t know his true form. Chloe observed him carefully, he seemed hesitant to get closer and he wanted to speak up, at least to you since his eyes never left your sad state.

“I’ll take him with me to finish the case, and talk some sense into him along the way. You can stay with (Y/n) for the rest of the day, thank you for your help Ella. I hope you feel better (Y/n).” Chloe genuinely comforts you and calms Ella’s protective posture. She walks towards Lucifer and gives him a stern look while nodding to the other direction, away from the two of you.

Lucifer nods back and gives you one last look before walking off with her. Chloe didn’t fail to notice that he was hesitant on leaving when he looked back. She didn’t know what’s going on in his head, but what she did know from just a glance was that he wanted to be there for you. To comfort you.

Chloe felt a slight pain in her chest, the comfort and kindness he wanted to give you was something he hasn’t shown the past two months. Their emotional and physical intimacy hasn’t been the same. She wonders if God had other plans for Lucifer. Maybe she wasn’t enough for the devil she was created for. Chloe shook her head and focused her way out of the insecurities.

‘Whatever happens, is meant to happen.’

/////////////////////////////////////

Stay tuned for the next chapter!~~ Feedback is always welcome my lovelies💖

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[morethanithoughtofficialblog]

Chapter 15: Things will change, I promise.

In which you decide this is enough.

*Your POV*

I was floating in the middle of a dark place which had no beginning and no end. There's nothing I can see except for myself, which I surprisingly can see clearly, defying the logic of the darkness itself. Does my body emit a certain light that only covers me? I don't know. I only feel like floating, and the only thing I'm sure about is that I'm alone, like every day. I don't let out a scream of fear, because I know perfectly where I am. I've been here one thousand times before and is all the same. It'll always be.

Suddenly, images start to become closer around me, leaving me with no possibility of escaping. I recognize those bright colors immediately because those are images from my memory. From my past. From my soul. My eyes focused on the lively eyes I had when I was a child, and the genuine smile I'll never have again. I don't try to close my eyes, because I've seen all these things before, and there's nothing I don't know about them.

Then some whispers filled the silence, soonly becoming shouts of desperation, pitiful laments, and heartbreaking cries. Some of them scream my name out loud, while others are coming from my own. They were so loud that my ears felt like bleeding and threatened to make turn deaf. I, however, don't try to cover them, because I knew there's no use trying.

It all disappeared before I could become mad. The once unbearable sounds were now replaced by a dangerously deafening silence, and my eyes were not used to the newly found darkness just yet.

Before I could process anything, there was a child in front of me. Not any child, but one I'm familiar with. How not to know who you once were? How not to recognize them? That child was (Y/N) (L/N), the first of all my personalities. Shy, reserved, happy, and sweet. A laid-back girl with an optimistic attitude. I tried to reach her, even if I already knew it was useless. I wanted to tell her that, whatever obstacles the life may bring, she needed to continue strong. That, of course, she never heard it. She disappeared shortly after coming, her enthusiastic smile leaving me behind.

I stood there, alone with my thoughts. I became afraid, like every time this happened. I was scared of not knowing who I was now, or who I'll ever be. I know me because I've spent too much time on my own, and the only thing I have in this world is my body. My past, my future, my present... all of those things have disappeared. They are not real. Only my undecent hair, my sad eyes, my marked arms, and my pained back are real. Only my body is here with me.

But I?

Oh, I've never been here.

And I'll never be.

Because I have lost myself a long ago.  

It popped up, then, a fifteen years old girl. It's not difficult to decipher what she's feeling. The nostalgy is present in her eyes, the bruises on her arms are more than evident, and how she hugged herself revealed the fear about how uncertain the future will be to her. I didn't try to reach her, because I already knew it was too late. And, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she disappeared as well. And I was left alone. Again.

I gently landed on a surreal "floor" that was just as dark as the rest of the world. Except for the dark red liquid that my feet were touching, that was as clear as the rest of my body. Then, like a deadly videogame, the blood started to fill the "room". Blood of the neck, of the arms and of the heart. My blood and theirs. Blood expressing suffering. Blood expressing pain.

The liquid was covering now most of my body, only leaving my head out of it. Once it started to cover my face, I closed my eyes and smiled, knowing the nightmare was going to end there...

And it did.

...

...

"Mmph!" I covered my scream quickly as I changed my position that once was laying on the bed, and now it's all sat up and scared. I relaxed curiously at knowing I was in my apartment and not somewhere else, then tears were starting to make their way into my eyes. Not again.

I got up from my bed and went to the bathroom, not sure of what I was hoping to see in the mirror. My hair was a mess, the bags under my eyes were awfully dark, and my position wasn't straight at all. The same insecure adult I've known for what it felt like ages remained there, and I almost screamed out in desperation. I don't think I'll ever change, but just watching myself go downhill every day makes me feel... like I'll never be who I once was.

I...

I really miss feeling like that.

I was that typical kid that all teachers adored by the mere fact I never brought problems and I always had the highest of grades. They would say I was super talented, with a bright future and endless possibilities. I only wish I knew by then that life wasn't perfect...

I...

No.

I closed my eyes then got out of the bathroom, then checked into my clock alarm. 3:17, not surprising at all. Knowing that going back to bed would be no help, I went to the "living room" and sat on the couch, not before turning the lights on. There was a black notebook on the table, with a pen on its side. I took it and noticed it was all empty. I then realized that this was supposed to be a personal notebook with all the things I wanted to improve.

In that night, I felt like I was good enough to put goals in my life.

And so I did.

I took note that the last time I went to the psychiatrist was five months ago, me too scared to go back after not taking the pills he prescribed me. I literally bought them, put them in one drawer, and never took them again.

Maybe I should go with another one and start all my rehabilitation again. Start from zero, you know? It would be better for me than continue like this.

I went and included more things to the list, making it be really long. And with that, I mean three pages (the two sides of each) long.

I was determined to get better for their and my sake.

Starting... later.

You really can't do anything really progressive when it's three in the morning.

And so I, miraculously, head back to bed and slept peacefully, finally with a smile on my face.

That, until my alarm decided to get up.

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, while I threw a pillow to that fucking thing. It didn't stop.

I got up with a groan and turned it off, then picked up the pillow and returned it to its original home: my comfy and beloved bed. I sighed and head to change my clothes, which I did as fast as always. Then I went and took my briefcase with all my documents, reminding myself what I was going to do.

You have a job interview to attend to, you fucking idio-

Shut up, don't get distracted.

I got out of my apartment and head to the subway, my daily transport. I could always use the bike, but I didn't want to get all sweaty when I'm about to do something important. And so I did what I always do: put my earbuds on until the ride is over, ignoring whatever is happening outside my little old world.

And before I could realize, I was there, walking with a man towards the place which the interview was about to start. I was about to get nervous, but I quickly loosened up and let all things go the way they are supposed to go. This wasn't the end of the world, neither the end of myself. This was, more than anything, a huge opportunity. And I took it.

Long story short, I was admitted quite easily. I got one of the higher ranks in Department A, the "Department of the Smart People", as they call it. I was surprised when he said he saw huge potential in me, not only because he has seen my job as an "activist" (and, well, ambassador of the monsters, of course). He says that the key to success is now kindness, which is something not currently found in huge businesses. He also states that, if we can show more morality than all of those companies, people will trust us. And our job will be much better.

My job, however, is to orientate and give small ideas to the lead heads of Department A. I'm experienced enough to don't have to follow rules exactly, but I'm not becoming a leader just because I exist. In order to get to the top, I will need time. Well, that's what he told me. He said he's taking young talents to become apprentices and, soon, start working professionally. So this place, "Chemistry for People" co., it's technically a place where beneficial treatments are made in order to help "common" diseases. And with common I mean the usual problems society is having, like how trendy cancer and some other illnesses have become in the past years. Hearing someone saying "my familiar passed out from cancer" is not rare anymore. Overall, it's kind of scary. Most of the old people see their final days dealing with chemotherapies and suffering. And honestly, I'm not rooting to let more people end like that.

I really like how... unique this place is. It has more common sense than the Congress, that's for sure. Besides, I didn't study biochemistry for anything. Since I was a kid, my dream was to become a scientist, or a "good scientist", how I liked to call it. Besides, the owner- name's Henry Robinson- is an innovative man. He gave me his point of view of the people I defend as an ambassador, which was highly positive. He is actually willing to test how magic could contribute to chemistry, and how it could help humans. So yeah, he's open to having monsters in his business: either to tutor them or to have them as direct workers.

In any case that the magic that is going to be tested out, he invited me to supervise how this process is going to work and to notice any hints of work abuse. I like this idea because he seems sincerely accessible to do things right. And isn't this a way to show the world improvement can be made if we all work together? I've been truly enthusiastic about all of this, and now that I'm going to be a worker and also a tutor, things couldn't get better. I'm finally going to work with a lab coat instead of a suit. This is what I always wanted, and I'm really proud of being able to have it!

Sans: hey

Sans: are you free?

Huh?

You: Sure, sure

You: Is there anything you need?

I just hope something bad didn't happen, or else-

Sans: eh, not that much

Sans: is more like a question, actually

You: Bring it on

Sans: ok, so papyrus wants to see u today

Sans: have a cooking lesson with you and such

A cooking lesson? What the fuck?

You: Cooking lesson?

Sans: papy tends to test friendship by having a cooking session with his new friend

Sans: it won't hurt ya, believe me

Sans: he just wants to see how good you are cooking, that's all

You: I can barely cook

You: I just hope I don't disappoint him

Sans: you haven't tasted his cooking, right?

Sans: i don't like offending my bro, but... he's not the best chef in town

Sans: he'll momentarily be tho

You: I bet

You: So when do you want me to go?

Sans: i... don't think it matters

Sans: as long as you come

You: Good, then I'm heading up

You: Just give me five minutes, ok?

Sans: k

Wait a min-

You: Sans, I have a question

Sans: spit it out

You: If Papyrus is the one who wants to see me, why he didn't text me?

You: He does have my number, after all

You: We have chat multiple times

Sans: he's in the store, kid

Sans: buying like, a million of ingredients to do a ton of things

Sans: mostly spaghetti

Oh.

I don't know why I was thinking I could kink-shame this guy. He, after all, did so when he just met me. But I haven't been able to take my revenge, and just now that bothered me.

There has to be a way.

You: I see

Sans: welp

Sans: and how ya been, kiddo?

Hmm...

I should probably have taken this chance to kink-shame him, but... he's probably asking about my mental illnesses, and I don't want to be rude...

I sighed.

You: I'm... improving

You: I actually just got a new job

Sans: really?

Sans: you're leaving the congress?

Oh shit, I know where this is going.

You: Yep, but I'm keeping my post of ambassador

Sans: how so?

Knew it.

You: It has become more like an... out of work project

You: Is more like a personal project, tibia honest

Answer that now, skeleton

Sans: wait, so you're not getting paid from being the ambassador?

You: Nope

Sans: why?

You: I already told you, Sans

You: Is a personal project, not an official project

You: Let's just say that I'm a nonprofit social activist

Sans: wow

Sans: guess you've been working down to the bone

Oh, I knew he was going to do that!

Sans: but in all seriousness now

Sans: that's really brave from your part, y' know

Sans: you deal with all the looks, discrimination and bullcrap without getting anything in exchange

Sans: wait

Sans: should i give you something?

Sans: i'm starting to feel bad with myself

...

I almost lose my parade by being really dumbfounded. I knew he would say something like that, but not that deeply...

He's literally willing to give me something for a work I offered myself to do.

How can someone be so uncommonly nice? I have sacrificed a couple of things, yes, but it's not like I sold my soul to the devil in order to help them.

You: You don't have to give me anything, really

You: You guys being free is enough reward

Sans: i don't think some monsters being happy are enough to pay bills, kid

Sans: or to buy a car

Sans: or even food

Savage.

You: Well, I do have a new job now, and its pay is quite good actually

You: I mean

You: I'm not working in a fucking McDonald's

Sans: what are you going to do then?

You: Have a role of a tutor in chemistry and as a scientist

I received then a call from Sans, which I hesitantly took as I was walking through the streets. Before I could even give him a proper greeting, he started rambling all over the phone, asking things like "since when you are a scientist?" and things like that. Even the dumbest of people could identify that he was freaking out badly, and I tried to calm him down multiple times, but he didn't listen.

"i mean, dude, you like science then? do you like science fiction as well? or any stories involving science stuff? ooh, have you seen this series called- wait, no. forget i said anything, it's just-"

"Sans..."

"don't judge me too harshly, please! i'm just happy i can find a science lover who isn't a freak! or that it actually hates me, hah..."

Wait- does he mean Gaster? Dude, that's sad.

"Hey bud, I don't judge ya. I just want you to calm down and breathe. I'm not even able to process every single thing you are saying to me"

He took a deep breath, then laughed nervously.

"sorry... do you like science fiction?"

Jesus Christ, how desperate is this guy to find a science nerd?

"Yep, one of my all-time favorites"

"nice! how long has it been since you are a scientist?"

"I finished my biochemistry specialty when I was twenty..."

"oh, and that was...?"

I remembered then that I have never told him my age, which made feel pretty stupid. I have told him I have depression, anxiety, PTSD and insomnia... but I'm not able to tell him how old I am? How stupid. But thinking back at it, he has not told me his age either, so...

"Two years ago. I'm twenty-two"

"huh, how curious. i'm twenty-two as well, and i haven't done half of the things you have"

"Don't compare yourself with me, Sans. You can be one thousand times better, I can feel it... in my bones"

I just heard that deep chuckle I'm beginning to like more and more. Actually... I do like his voice. Like, a lot. It's really deep, smooth like butter, and it has a lot of profundity it's hard to imitate his accent. He doesn't speak that much like an American- more like a person coming from another country, but that learned English at a young age. It's understandable but different, and not in a bad way. If I could compare his voice with a singer, it would probably be a combination between Freddy Mercury and Elvis Presley. Which it's just lovely.

I wonder if he can sing.

"heh, i should give it a shot then. do you think i should go to college?"

"You'll have a better job that way. Hell, you can become a science master if you want to. You just need to study, bud. But I don't think that's a difficult task to ask you, Sans. You are really smart, I know it!"

"thanks, kid"

"Sans, aren't we the same age?"

"eh, you're still a kid to me. every young human is a kid to me"

"I should call you like that as well, then?"

"nah"

"Ok then, bucko"

"what the-"

"I'm almost there, Sans. You can tell me whatever you want in the house"

"no but wait-"

"Nope, shut up. You tell me there, bye!"

I laughed way louder than I expected when I saw a ton of messages from Sans being sent, complaining about me being the kid and not him. When he was sending me the twentieth message, though, I was already at the door.

"HUMAN, HELLO!"

"Hi Papy-"

"(y/n) what the fuck?! you don't have the right to call me 'bucko'!"

I laughed while Sans groaned in desperation and Papyrus tilted his head out in confusion, which made laugh harder. After a while though, Sans joined my laughing by smirking at first, then bursting out into a laughing fit.

"SANS! HAVE YOU TURNED THE HUMAN INTO A DORK?!"

"nah bro, she" he took a pause while laughing "was already like that since the beginning. we just noticed"

I gasped in fake shock and indignation, then playfully hit his shoulder. He laughed louder and I being stupid, made me laugh like crazy as well. Papyrus, on the other side, was starting to become mad out in confusion.

"I DIDN'T INVITE THE HUMAN TO COME AND BE STUPID WITH YOU, SANS! WE HAVE A COOKING SESSION PENDING AND FOR PUNISHMENT, YOU'LL HAVE TO HELP!"

"oh hell naw"

"HMPH! WHATEVER! HUMAN, FOLLOW ME INTO THE KITCHEN! WE'LL HAVE OUR SACRED AND ONLY-FOR-HIGH-SOCIETY-PEOPLE SESSION IN THERE!"

I followed him sheepishly while Sans mouthed me "good luck", then winked. I considered returning him the wink, but I noticed that it was a stupid idea. And so I let it be.

"HUMAN! WE SHALL BEGIN OUR SESSION NOW!"

Then I noticed that the whole fucking kitchen was filled with ingredients, books of recipes, and any cooking instrument that a chef would need.

This should be interesting.

And without hesitation, I put an apron he brought me and prepared myself mentally.

Here I go...

[harunoheart]

Oneirophrenia C6

Oneirophrenia C6

———————

Sasuke Uchiha

———————

She fell asleep so peacefully.

I remember when we used to go on missions as Team 7, Naruto would pass out snoring and sprawled out so falling asleep around him was always difficult.

But without the dobe taking over the space everything felt different.

Once her breathing evened out I opened my eyes. The moonlight filtered into the tent just enough to see her outline.

I tilted my head so the hair that was covering my left eye shifted and suddenly she was much brighter.

The Rinnegan, for all its cursed power, has allowed me to see a lot of things more clearly, in the literal sense.

Sakura’s face was suddenly bathed in blue moonlight, her lips gently parted as she drifted off to sleep.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall with each breath and drew my eyes up to her forehead which was now glowing green as I could see her chakra being channeled there. It was a small trickle of movement, just the barest minimum of chakra flowing to her forehead at all times. It was impressive, really. She’s been storing chakra a little bit every single day for years to achieve that reservoir. That control is so second Nature to her now that she can do it in her sleep too.

I watched her sleep for just a moment more before closing my eyes and drifting off myself.

—-

Sakura’s chakra spiked rapidly and quickly. It felt like an electric shock waking me up from a deep sleep. Sakura sat bolted upright and panting for air.

I reached out to try and comfort her but she instinctively slapped my hand away. She quickly pulled her hand back after realizing what she had done and apologized. Her right arm was draped over her stomach, caressing it with her thumb as if to insure that she was still in tact.

“Gomen-ne, Sasuke-Kun. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She reaches into her bag and grabbed her water bottle and a small pill from her bag.

Before she could pop it into her mouth I grabbed her fist with my hand.

“What are you taking,” I asked. I was too tired to beat around the bush.

“Daijoubu, it’s just Melatonin. Good for going to sleep.” I released her wrist and she popped the small pill in her mouth and took a swig of water to wash it down. She tucked her hair behind her ears and took a deep breath.

“Are you ok?”

She looked at me, surprised by the question. “A-ah.. I’m fine,” she smiled softly.

I looked down at her hand still clutching the spot on her abdomen. She realized what I was looking at and released her grip on the spot.

“Misete.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before lifting up her shirt to show a scar that was much bigger than I thought. It was about six inches or so long and was a thick keloid that looked hastily healed. I pulled the hair in front of my rinnegan out of my eyes and got a better look at it in the dark.

It looked aged and settled into her skin. This was a rather old scar.

“There’s one on my back to match,” she said, chuckling to herself and pulling her shirt back down.

She laid back down to go to sleep but I couldn’t stop thinking about what kind of weapon made a scar that deadly, and how she could’ve possible survived the wound. The bleeding alone would’ve been fatal with a gash that size straight through her kidneys.

It seems Sakura has more demons that I realized.

I reached out once more...but her back was facing away from me this time. I let her withdraw and go back to sleep but now I was wide awake and all I could think about was someone putting their sword through her.

I thought about how I made her believe I had put a Chidori through her chest. I wondered if she woke up from nightmares about that too.

—-

She was gone.

I felt her absence before I even opened my eyes. The sunlight pouring into the tent was blinding. Once my eyes adjusted I saw her abandoned pillow, covered with a few pink hairs that caught the light.

I could feel her distant presence nearby, her chakra had a very unique quality to it. Sakura’s chakra control had always been so precise that it ebbed with her breathing.

There was only one problem. Waking up I felt unnecessarily aroused by the thought of her. I furrowed my eyes in annoyance at the inconvenience. Either it will go away on its own or I’ll be have to deal with it.

It’s been more of a problem lately than it ever had before.

I felt dirty, after her nightmare last night. I shouldn’t be thinking about that while she was suffering through ptsd. But this feeling in the pit of my stomach, that worry of protecting her at all costs was the only thing I could think of as I struggled to fall back asleep last night.

Sakura frequented my dreams in ways that haunted me. A different kind of ghost than Itachi’s memories and a little more guilt and regret on my end. I wanted to pull her closer, to protect her.

I reached down and grabbed it, then immediately regretted it.

“Fuck.”

I slammed my head back into my pillow. I hated dealing with this fucking problem. It was hard enough going to the bathroom in the morning.  

I sat up and tried opening the door of the tent. When I got to the mesh screen I could see Sakura stretching at the other end of the campfire. Her face was relaxed and serene, with no signs of the panic she showed last night. Sakura knew that whatever bothered her was just a Dream...And I envy her for that.

“Ohayo Sasuke-kun!” She shouted as she bent at the waist with her hands and feet on the ground. Her hair was brushing the grass as her head hung upside down.

I watched as she changed into a plank position and lowered her body to the ground before she arched her back in an elongated pose.

Meanwhile I was at full attention. Watching her body move was mesmerizing. She was wearing a sports bra and shorts, her muscles moving slow and deliberate as she flowed from one pose into the next. Her abs were flexed and defined. Her legs were strong. Everything about her body looked strong and capable. She is beautiful. And My body ached to bring her closer to me.

In our years as a team I never took the time to look at her enough. I took her for granted as a kid. But now Sakura isn’t that little girl anymore... In more ways than one. As I watched her move and shift with so much confidence and strength I realized that the dobe was right.

I love her.

I felt a strange feeling in my chest, as if I unshackled a weight I didn’t know I was carrying around with me.

I’ve been lying to myself for a long time.

I’ve loved her for a long time.

I just never thought I was worthy of her. And now, looking at the woman she has become, I know that I will never be worthy of her. She never gave up hope for me to be happy.

And I know I never want to break her heart again. Every time I felt like I had to do it, it killed me. Betraying her trust and her faith in me was one of the hardest things to do. Almost killing her was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done and I can’t believe I fell so far.

I was such a stupid kid.

At least that train of thought got rid of my problem. I climbed out of my sleeping bag and put on a black Undershirt and my pants.

Getting used to only having one arm has been interesting. I’ve developed my technique by now but it’s finally starting to feel almost normal...or at least as normal as my life could be.

Bringing Sakura on this trip has been an interesting decision, though not an unplanned one. I just needed the right reason; the right timing. Her optimism was a breath of fresh air from my last travel companions. And without Naruto there was no bickering or posturing to worry about. It felt almost peaceful...

I looked out at her again. She was balancing in a headstand and lowering her legs into a split.

Being this close to her and alone was dangerous, if only for the fact that I feel like my self control is being tested. This is new territory for me, and I’m not sure how I should approach the subject. I half expected her to bring it up first but she seems to be content tiptoeing around it.

“It’s your move, buddy.”

I hate that he’s right.

————

“Alright Sasuke-kun, what’s first?” She asked, skewering the fish she caught for breakfast while I handled the campfire.

“First, we establish an escape route.” I said. She nodded and stuck the last stick next to the flame. “Our main objective is to explore Kaguya’s castle, but to get there we have to enter Kaguya’s core dimension.”

“The one with the mountains.” Sakura chimed in.

I nodded. “The one where she is currently sealed inside of the new moon we created. So there is that to think about.” I poked the fire a few times and turned one of the logs over to get a more even burn. “We will have to start there, before we travel anywhere else. We have to learn as much as possible about the kind of toll it takes on our bodies, on our chakra, and what kind of environment it is and if it’s survivable should we get stuck.”

“That’s where I come in,” she said proudly.  “I also had a few theoretical questions I wanted to look into while we are dimension-hopping. For example, does our geographical location in our dimension affect where we end up in Kaguya’s dimension or if there is only one ‘doorway’ we can enter through.”

Now there’s an interesting thought.

“Every little bit of intel we can get from this will help us. So if you notice something, even if it seems insignificant, tell me. And write it down.”

Sakura pulled out an empty scroll from her backpack and a pen. On the front of it she wrote the kanji for Mountain 山. She opened it up and began to write.

“Here’s what we know so far. The Mountainous dimension is a core dimension. We know that this is the center linking our dimensions with hers, so through here we can access the other doorways. Kaguya can recharge her chakra from the victims of the infinite Tsukiyomi here so it has some properties of transference... the entire dimension is likely to have its own chakra network.” She said, scribbling away. She paused and looked up at me, “How much dimensional travel have you been doing alone?”

“Just once. I landed in the Mountains and lost the use of my sharingan for 24 hours. Luckily I had brought rations with me and waited it out but realistically right now I am not capable of efficiently traveling on my own.”

“Don’t worry Sasuke-kun,” she tapped the diamond on her forehead with the back of the pen, “I’ve got you covered.” She smiled.

“How long does it take you to restore your reserves?” I picked up one of the fish and handed it to her. She took it and then I grabbed one for myself.

Through a mouthful of food she said “about a week, if I’m at zero.” She swallowed and continued, “If I’m channeling the chakra to you and not fighting, it may be less. My base chakra will restore overnight much like yours if my body isn’t damaged and healing.”

“We should try to keep at least one of us in fighting shape at all times. We are no use to each other if we’re both injured. How good is your Kenjutsu?” I nodded towards the sword that was resting by my pack. Sakura looked at it and scrunched her eyebrows together.

“Not great, I’ve been training more with axes lately.”

“I’ll train you.” I said. She looked surprised.

“Really?”

I nodded, “If, for whatever reason, I become unable to use it, you should know how to wield it as well.”

I finished my fish and grabbed my water bottle.

“Let’s get started.”

———————

Sakura Haruno

———————

“Ok now shift all of your weight to your right foot, and twist your hips, dragging your left foot behind your right.”

I shifted my stance the way he instructed and the hilt of the sword naturally fell into my hand. The movement was subtle and quick.

“Now, step back and draw the sword.”

I tried to do it in one fluid motion, but Sasuke’s sword was long. The tip of the blade got stuck at the opening of the sheath and I had to completely readjust my position to get the whole thing out. I sighed in embarrassment over how clumsy I was.

Why can’t I just punch things? That’s so much more straightforward.

We’ve been practicing for about half an hour and that’s just been the basics. At least Sasuke was more patient than Tsunade-shishou...

“Try it again,” He said, “this time stop when you step backwards, don’t draw the blade.”

Shift.

Twist.

Step.

My hand gripped the handle and I froze, like he asked. Sasuke came over to me and looked at my stance.

He adjusted the sheath so it sat lower on my hips instead of my waist and pulled my shoulders back. When I dropped my eyes to watch what he was doing his knuckle lifted my chin back up and straight ahead.

“Don’t take your eyes off your enemy,” he said softly. He pushed my rear foot back a little more and then his hand cupped my waist and pulled me backwards, shifting my weight to my rear foot. I kept my eyes locked onto the tree that was supposed to be my target but all I could focus on was the way his touched lingered.

He circled back around to stand in front of me.

“Draw.”

I pulled the sword smoothly out and watched the tip of the blade slice across Sasuke’s figure, just a hairs breadth away from being cut. I heard the air pushed away by the blade.

Sasuke smirked.

I could feel the smile on my face.

He was so tragically beautiful. Honestly it was unfair. It blows my mind how much he’s changed since he was a kid...but at the same time he was so familiar. Like I had forgotten this part of him still existed. The part of him that could be playful or happy. Even for a moment.

“You look happier, Sasuke-Kun,” I said. He looked taken aback and embarrassed. I laughed.

“No, really. You look...lighter. If that makes sense.” I handed him back his sword and he put it away next to a tree.

“I feel lighter.” He said looking back up at me.

“I’m glad.” I said softly, looking at the wind moving through the trees. The sound of the wind was so nice to hear after having been stuck in a hospital for the past few months. I couldn’t remember the last mission I carried out... was it the Daimiyo’s daughter...?

“What happened?” Sasuke asked, breaking my train of thought.

Shit...I kind of expected him to pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t get nightmares that often but last night I couldn’t help but think of Chiyo baa-sama. My subconscious sort of spiraled from there.

“I’m fine Sasuke, really. It was just a dream.” Or rather, a memory.

“Not last night,” he pointed to my shirt, “How did you survive that scar.” He asked.  

He caught me off guard again.

“I...ah...” I stammered, unsure of where to begin.  “It’s a long story...”

“Who did that to you?” He asked instead. A simpler question.

“Akasuna no Sasori.”

His eyes got wide. He looked back down at my shirt where the scar was hiding.

“That was you?” He asked. “I had heard he was defeated by his grandmother and a young kunoichi...” He asked, visibly processing the information.

I nodded my head as we walked back towards our campsite, picking up a few sticks and logs along the way for more firewood.

“It was an honor, fighting by her side.” I finally said. “She was truly a great ninja.” I smiled, thinking back on how skilled and experienced she was. Watching her fight was a sight to behold and I will never forget it.

“So the puppet master left you with a scar through your kidney?”

“I jumped in front of the blade, actually,” I confessed. Sasuke stopped walking as I said that. I turned around and saw him scowling at me, His fist was clenched at his side.

“You did...what?”He said slowly, through an obviously clenched jaw.

I immediately went on the defensive. “What, are you gonna call me stupid? Reckless? Or tell me I shouldn’t have gotten in the way?” I crossed my arms, kind of irritated at the attitude he was pulling.

He let out a breath and stretched his fingers out, trying to calm down. “No. That wasn’t-“

“I’m a ninja, I have to be prepared to die.”

“You’re a medical ninja, Sakura. If you die who heals everyone else?” He bit back at me. His words echoed with Tsunade’s voice behind them.

She told me the exact same thing when we were training how to dodge enemy attacks.

I turned around and kept walking towards the campground with Sasuke trailing right behind me.

“Sakura. Sakura, wait.” He said, flash stepping to catch up to me. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around to face him.

Our eyes were locked on each other’s, both equally frustrated.

“What.” I spit out. I regretted how bitchy it sounded but I can’t take it back now.

Instead of blowing up at me like I expected, Sasuke took a deep breath and stepped in closer. He looked at me with this deep sadness in his eyes that immediately made my chest want to collapse.

He held my hand tightly in his palm and pulled it to his chest.

“Tell me the whole story.”

—————

So I told him.

Starting with the forming of Kakashi-Han, the bell test... Gaara getting kidnapped, Kankuro getting poisoned, the antidote... everything.

Much to my surprise, Sasuke sat and listened to the whole thing. He asked a few questions here or there that sent me off on another tangent but overall he seemed to be absorbing all of the information I was giving him.

“I knew the blade was poisoned...and I knew that my antidote had worn off. But I wasn’t strong enough to battle him alone so it felt like the only way I could be useful. Provide Chiyo baa-sama with an opening.”

I nibbled at a granola bar as we sat and at lunch by the river.

“I began to heal the wound with the sword still in me... I could at least stop the bleeding that way but I thought the poison would’ve gotten me for sure. I felt it...” I touched my hand to my Ribcage and felt the scar through the fabric. “It was...excruciating. Like slowly being burned alive from the inside. But Chiyo she...she didn’t take the antidote I gave her. She shoved it into my leg and then at least the burning stopped but I still had a sword going through my body and every slight shift of my weight opened a new wound.” I ran my fingers up and down the length of the scar, remembering how much it hurt just to stand.

“She found her opening. Got him right through the last piece of his humanity sticking out of his chest. In the embrace of his mother and father puppets...”

I closed my eyes and could see him whisper to me about the rendezvous at the bridge. About Orochimaru and his spy. I could hear the clicking of his jaw as the chakra faded from the puppet he inhabited.

“You told me how you survived the poison, but how did you survive the sword?”

I smiled up at Sasuke, grateful for his questions. “Reanimation jutsu. Life force for a life. It’s how she saved Gaara too.” I looked down at my hands, “I carry her with me wherever I go.” I closed my hands into fists and put them behind me, leaning backwards with my feet dangling in the water. The sound of the water trickling through the rocks filled the silence for a moment.

“I understand.” He said finally. “I carry by brother with me.”I looked over to him with his fingertips touching his eyelid. “These eyes... “ he paused. It was like he was looking for the right words to speak. He dropped his hand instead and looked out at the water.

“That’s right, I kinda met your brother for the first time right before I fought Sasori.” I said, trying to encourage the conversation. Sasuke looked up at me, a little unsure of where this story was going.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, he fought Kakashi and Naruto. I stayed out of it for the most part.” I explained, “I remember thinking...you two looked a lot alike, and he was terrifyingly strong...” and I hated him for what he did to you... “but it wasn’t even really him, it was a jutsu where he could take over someone else’s body. A diversion.” I clarified.

“My brother was...rigid.” Sasuke said. He took his cloak off and began to relax his posture. I think he’s given up on trying to explore a dimension today. I felt bad but I was also enjoying the opportunity for conversation. “He was always disciplined... I suppose he had to be with how deep undercover he was.” He picked up a rock and threw it into the river with a ‘plop’.

I hesitated to tell him the truth of what I knew, afraid that he would be mad at me for meddling in his past...but I felt like I had to be honest with him.

“When Naruto left to train with Jiraya I had a lot of time to myself in Konoha,” I said, picking up a rock and throwing it into the river just like he did. It felt really satisfying and helped to ease some of the anxiety I was feeling. “I scoured through as much history and records as I could trying to learn about you....about your family and what happened...” I started picking at the grass as a distraction from how fast my heart was racing. I didn’t dare look up at him. “I found entire bookshelves of redacted scrolls. Sealed with the blood of the Sandaime Hokage. I learned what I could from newspaper articles and the investigative report of the crime scene that called it an open and shut case but...there wouldn’t be that much redacted information for a massacre like that without there being a dark secret behind it.” I finally turned to look at him.

“There are answers. I know where to find them but-“

“I don’t need any more answers, Sakura.” He said gently. “I spent a lifetime mourning their deaths. I want to try to remember how they lived.”

He looked solemnly at the water and took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot, actually.”

I turned towards Sasuke, eager to listen.

“What was she like?”

———-

End chapter 6

Thank you so much for reading!

I wanted to explore Sasuke and Sakura’s conversation and communication dynamic more in this chapter especially after the Boruto Episode

Gives me all the feels.

[holydepths-blog]

✩ jt & sienna

my wrist hurts from typing so eat ass 

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? sienna … like we get it he’s in a gang so he has to b mean to other people but both of them know she’ll kill him if he ever talks to her loudly in any capacity Who threatens to leave but never actually does? i feel like he’s a dramatic mf … like ummmm i can go any time i WANT to im not actually ur bf !! and she’s like yeah ur right leave and he goes :pensive: Who actually keeps their word and leaves? sienna . she would storm out of her own house for dramatic effect .  my girl doesn’t give a fuck Who trashes the house? she’ll throw sum at him …. prolly a pillow , she doesn’t need a lawsuit on her hands Do either of them get physical? not to imply domestic abuse is ever laughable but if (when? we dk) she ever came @ him … it’d be funny cos he cld literally just push against her forehead and her arms would not reach him How often do they argue/disagree? all the time, she disagrees simply to disagree w him Who is the first to apologise? her, solely because she’s Antagonistic on purpose and then feels bad 

Sex: 

Who is on top? she wants to take a ride on his disco stick Who is on the bottom? u heard me Who has the strangest desires? they both think the other person’s entirely normal behavior is freaky . jt wants to snuggle ? sienna: tf are we , puritans ? Any kinks? i refuse to take the bdsm test for her because i’m scared of what i’ll find so come back to me on this one Who’s dominant in bed? it’s exhausting being dominant in everything else so he takes the w on this one Is head ever in the equation? yethIf so, who is better at performing it? his beard is itchy so he compensates by being really fucking good at it Ever had sex in public? yes. they’ve had sex in the back room of the thrift shop more than they have upstairs in her apartment Who moans the most? can he shut the frick up Who leaves the most marks? sienna…………………………………. dont askWho screams the loudest? can SHE shut the frick up ….Who is the more experienced of the two? idk how experienced he is probably very but it’s important for me that u know she’s a whore Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? they frick Rough or soft? r**gh …. once a month she’s uwu ….How long do they usually last? for a long time , her poor thrussy Is protection used? yes. she’d kill herself before she got pregnant Does it ever get boring? no Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? they’ve had sex anywhere and everywhere 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? she would literally rather DIE than be pregnant. FOR THE PURPOSES of this section … they adopt (one) kid when they’re too old to be raising a tot but still try, don’t @ me. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? her ? none lol but AGAIN … i cannot leave this section blank and …. future purposes dont @ meWho is the favorite parent? sienna’s not a regular mom, she’s a cool momWho is the authoritative parent? she’s also a bitch though, don’t forget it Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? jt , mostly because sienna doesn’t want them around all day Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? SIENNA  …. yeah sorry that i don’t think it’s jordan ‘waahhh sienna i don’t want you to get mercury poisoning’ tucker …. mind ur fucking business maybe ? Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? sienna , but she drags jt with her so she has someone to bitch about soccer moms and how long [ insert activity here ] is running with Who goes to parent teacher interviews? jt , sienna isn’t allowed there anymore. it’s a long story. Who changes the diapers? bold of u to assume she would ever go NEAR a diaperWho gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? she’s fully decided she is INDEPENDENT and does not NEED him to wake up for moral support or to warm up a bottle … her tit is good enough Who spends the most time with the children? jt , she’s an ankle biter anti . ( she still  reads the kid bedtime stories every night )Who packs their lunch boxes? jt , sienna is not allowed to make health choices for ANYONE Who gives their children ‘the talk’? SIENNA … she tells them flat out what happens and why it happens , no bullshit . science babey ! Who cleans up after the kids? nothing ever gets cleaned up , ever. Who worries the most? jt . sienna is too cool and chill 2 have anxiety Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? SIENNA 

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? he does … she’s super handsy casually but whenever it comes to actually hugging she takes a bit to warm up to it Who is the little spoon? she is …. he’s only allowed 2 snuggle her if she can fall asleep in his arms . nearly vomited writing that actually Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? right now ? sienna , trying to convince everyone they’re like actually really a thing . Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? sienna , and she denies it until her dying breath How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? sienna’s … ability to be uber affectionate with him is limited …. but she gets a lot better as time grows on . that’s character development Who gives the most kisses? jtWhat is their favourite non-sexual activity? dont ask me why my first thought was watching shitty b-rated horror movies …. she also makes him sort through clothes with her, and she promises it’s very theraputic Where is their favourite place to cuddle? bed . it’s much easier to get her to drop her mr tough guy act when she’s sleepy Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? neither , when they touch eachother it means BUSINESS , see two sections back How often do they get time to themselves? all the time , she runs away

Sleeping:

Who snores? i already know she does , dont judge her If both do, who snores the loudest? sienna Do they share a bed or sleep separately? share :3 not rn …… but they WLD If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? she’s ready to draw a partition down the middle of the bedWho talks in their sleep? sienna , and he makes fun of her for it What do they wear to bed? sienna steals clothes specifically from him  to sleep in. she’s also 10/10 a morning showererer so she’ll lit sleep in her clothes from that day and not give a FUCK Are either of your muses insomniacs? sienna never sleeps she runs purely on red bull and annoyance Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? yeah , she takes them most nights Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? side by side, though occasionally she’ll reach for his hand Who wakes up with bed hair? sienna, and it’s awful. he’ll get his ass beat if he mentions it Who wakes up first? jt. it takes her FOREVER to fall asleep , but once she’s out she’s out .  think being awake for 24 hours then sleeping for 12+ Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? he does, not to be romantic but because he’s sick and tired of her eating leftover fried rice in bed. What is their favourite sleeping position? she sprawls , and she doesn’t like to be touching him when she sleeps , but his presence is a good thing Who hogs the sheets? jt , simply because he’s so comparatively large next to her that using a reasonable amount of sheets reads as hogging Do they set an alarm each night? they both intend to — and always forget. when when it goes off, sienna sleeps through it Can a television be found in their bedroom? yes , but it doesn’t get cable like the one in the living room does. it’s exclusively for blockbuster rentals. Who has nightmares? she doesn’t have wake up in a cold sweat nightmares, but she has sad dreams a lot Who has ridiculous dreams? sienna makes up the craziest dreams to relay to him just to fuck with him Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? SIENNAWho makes the bed?  neither have the time What time is bed time? either 8pm or 4am, no in between Any routines/rituals before bed? her SOLE form of self care is face masks, and she makes him do them on the top half of his face where green gunk wont get in his hair Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? sienna is grumpy all the time, so it’d have to be him by comparison 

Work:

Who is the busiest? she literally lives at work, so there’s always something Who rakes in the highest income? considering she is a SMART , STRONG , almost business owner ( omg they popping BIG bottles when the old bitch that actually owns the attic dies ) and he thrives on tips and gang bullshit ? do the math. Are any of your muses unemployed? nopeWho takes the most sick days? sienna just opens the store and goes back upstairs to fake supervise in her sleep, call her if there’s a fireWho is more likely to turn up late to work? he is, it’s LITERALLY impossible for her to do that Who sucks up to their boss? paging ed, she’s her own fucking boss What are their jobs? he’s a bartender/gang fREAK , she manages the attic thrift store Who stresses the most? jt has a lot of long days to to the antics of alcoholics , she likes her job even though she wishes she was somewhere else Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? she likes it…. but she’s super depressed she isn’t following her dreams. i assume he likes whatever’s going on on the wrong side of town Are your muses financially stable? yes 

Home:

Who does the washing? jtWho takes out the trash? jordan tucker Who does the ironing? jordanWho does the cooking? mr tuckerWho is more likely to burn the house down just trying? see i would say sienna, but she DOESN’T try. Who is messier? sienna, but she’s not as much messy as she is disorganizedWho leaves the toilet roll empty? siennaWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? jt, he lit just took his shoes off in the thread ….. literally get off her couch Who forgets to flush the toilet? that’s gross. Who is the prankster around the house? if he pulls anything over on her in her house he’s kicked 2 the curb. she bullying he is fair game tho Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? sienna doesn’t drive, so him Who mows the lawn? what lawn Who answers the telephone? she pointedly ignores them Who does the vacuuming? see the other chore listWho does the groceries? ^Who takes the longest to shower? siennaWho spends the most time in the bathroom? neither of them , efficiency is key 

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? mo money mo problems is what i always say . it isn’t overflowing , but it isn’t an issue How many cars do they own? he has a motorcycle , she has a bike and two working feet Do they own their home or do they rent? she rents , technically , until she gets the store Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? dont ask this again mads still has not told me where we are Do they live in the city or in the country? SHE lives downtown , he would have to move in with her Do they enjoy their surroundings? she hates it , she wants a big city What’s their song? she played this on her record player , and she had one too many drinks and tried to dance with him to it ….. What do they do when they’re away from each other? breathe a sigh of relief Where did they first meet? the thrift storeHow did they first meet? when she literally made out w him unprecedentedly Who spends the most money when out shopping? sienna is always buying things at garage sales and other thrift stores she insists are to resell but then a week later they show up in her house or she’s wearing them Who’s more likely to flash their assets? sienna  owns one expensive thing and never lets it go. Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? they aren’t 10 Any mental issues? too many to countWho’s terrified of bugs? spiders are her friends Who kills the spiders around the house? if he does she’ll b mad at him that’s pablo , he lives in the corner Their favourite place? her apartment Who pays the bills? siennaDo they have any fears for their future? at this point probably the stress of staging a breakup Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? LOOK … i know it’s not the question but she surprises him with spectacularly unfancy dinners …. he shows up and they’re eating pizza rolls by candlelight because if she doesn’t cook them ahead of time he won’t let her eat them Who uses up all of the hot water? SIENNAWho’s the tallest? he is , she’s 2ft Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? sienna, the horndogWho wanders around in their underwear? [ me vc ] if he keeps barging in he’s seen her in a towel Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? neither of them , they DANCE What do they tease each other about? him about her poor life choices , her about his criticisms of her life choices . essentially she mocks him Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? sienna has to beg him to not wear a clean version of the same fucking clothes every day . he owns one outfit and washes it each night as far as she’s concerned Do they have mutual friends? no , they run in VERY different circles Who crushed first? [ tatbilb vc ] if anyone’s fallen in love with someone who doesn’t love them back, it’s not you. it’s kavinsky. he’s kavinsky. Any alcohol or substance related problems? the only water she drinks is watered down beer because it was cheaper, amiright lads? also she smokes a lot , have fun with lung cancer when you’re 40 sienna Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? sienna, and he was the bartenderWho swears the most? her 

[rather-impertinent]

Girl Next Door Chpt. 4

A/N: Hello friends! It’s been a fkn hot minute since I last wrote any fic, especially this one! I am now free from the clutches of university coursework and exams, and thought to celebrate by finally releasing this chapter! It’s a long one, hopefully it’s worth the wait! Thanks for all your patience, let me know what you all think, much love xo

“No. Rosina is a lovely girl, but I think she’d be lovely for someone else,” he said thoughtfully, a gentle smile on his face. Caroline’s intoxicated state meant that she could not smother a grin at this news. As Dwight fell asleep that night, he convinced himself that he had imagined her reaction. The door to his flat finally opened, he entered, immediately turned on the light and unbuttoned his coat. He was quickly followed by Caroline, whose white heel caught on the door frame. She swore and stumbled clumsily, before falling right into Dwight’s arms.

An utterly inebriated yet incredibly beautiful, young woman had just fallen into his arms, inside of his own flat, and Dwight didn’t know whether to thank the Lord or curse Him. She made no attempt to move and dangled limply.

“Caroline? You okay?”

She mumbled incoherently, and Dwight realised that she was probably blacking out. At first, he encouraged her to walk, but she complained in unintelligible groans about having sore feet and “fuzzy legs” so Dwight resorted to carrying her. She was ridiculously light, he discovered, barely weighing more than Julia after a Sunday roast.

He kicked open his bedroom door with the ball of his foot and entered sideways, holding Caroline securely, her mouth slack in sleep despite the short walk to the bedroom. Once inside the room, he pressed the light switch on with his nose and then gently placed Caroline onto the bed, careful not to wake her. He carefully removed her heeled shoes and put them on the floor beside the bed. With a slight smile and shake of the head at the now softly snoring girl on his bed, he covered her body with the navy duvet and left to fetch her a pint of water and some much-needed aspirin for the morning. He placed the tablets and water on the somewhat untidy table beside his bed before stealing one of his pillows and a pair of pyjama trousers to go sleep on the couch.

Caroline supposed that the light that shone on her face to rouse her from her dreams was that which people speak of when they die, such was the relentless throbbing in her head. She reached for the pint glass of water on the bedside table and popped two pills out the packet that had been placed beside it, hoping to relieve her horrific headache and the painful dryness of her throat. She shielded her mascara clogged eyes from the light flooding through a gap in the curtains, before it dawned on her that those were not her curtains, and this was not her flat. She panicked slightly before her nostrils caught a whiff of a familiar scent. She brought the dark duvet cover up to her nose and sniffed. Dwight. She was in Dwight’s flat. As she considered the implications of this, patchy memories from the previous night flooded back to her, and she groaned, knowing she likely made a complete twat of herself.

Before she had time to contemplate this further, she heard a soft tap at the door. She cleared her throat: “Yeah?”

“Morning. Are you awake?” Dwight’s voice sounded just as rough as her own.

Caroline thought the answer was obvious, but replied anyway, “yeah.”

“Mind if I come in?”

She gestured helplessly to herself, how could someone possibly be so polite? “It’s your room!”

Dwight came in then, smiling but looking a little worse for wear, like he’d just finished a gruelling night shift. He was huddling two steaming cups of tea as he sat down on the bed, quickly handing one to Caroline. “How are you feeling?” he asked, a little smile on his face as he examined her tired eyes. “I didn’t know how you liked your tea, so I just guessed.”

Caroline accepted the mug with an amused expression and brought it to her lips, hoping it would return her voice. “Well,” she began, still croaking slightly, “when I woke up I genuinely thought I had died and ended up in Hell.” She took another glug of her tea, which was made perfectly with two sugars and a small splash of milk.

They both winced as Dwight’s laugh pierced their sharp headaches. “Ah, your first vodka hangover. Brutal. Now, no doubt, you hate me!”

She chuckled and met his tired gaze. “Now, no doubt, I hate you.” It was curious, thought Dwight, that a declaration of hate had managed to suck all of the air from the room. They hid their smiles behind their respective cups before Caroline examined her mug in dismay. “This is the most boring mug I’ve ever seen; it’s literally just white. Don’t you have any fun ones?”

Dwight’s brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the genuine dissatisfaction on her face. “What? Why would I need to have a ‘fun mug’? You just drink coffee out of it! Besides, I rarely get a chance to drink coffee out of an actual mug for a start; it’s usually shitty paper cups from the hospital vending machine!”

She scoffed and pointed at the offending mug. “Oh, live a little, Dwight! It’s the simple things that make life count!”

He laughed in disbelief, “Says you – who probably grew up in some fancy mansion in the countryside somewhere and had more money than God!” Her mouth fell open, and Dwight’s eyes widened in panic. Shit. He’s offended her and ruined everything, and now she’ll never speak to him again and – his thoughts were halted by a pillow whacking him in the face, causing some of his tea to spill on his tartan pyjama trousers.

“Fuck off, Dwight!” Caroline laughed. “I don’t live there now, and I don’t really have any money at the moment,” Her chin was held aloft in defiance, “I was just trying to give you some friendly advice about your shit cups!” He returned her smirk at this. “I’d give you some of mine, but they’re all of pugs… Oh, shit! My keys!” She whined, covering her face with her hand. “Ugh, I’ll have to go to the pub and get them, wearing the same clothes as last night and smelling like a fucking distillery, oh my G–“

A loud jingle in front of her face caused the end of her sentence to catch in her throat. “You have my keys?!” she exclaimed, an impressed smirk appearing on her face.

Dwight nodded and returned her smile, continuing to jingle the cluster of metal and pug keyrings. “Yep. I walked down to the pub earlier to get them, I know the owner really well. Besides, one of the disadvantages of being a doctor is that you don’t ever really manage to get much sleep, no matter how hungover and tired you are!” He chuckled, dropping the keys into her open hand.

“Thank you,” Caroline said sincerely, clasping her long fingers around the bundle of keys, meeting his gaze. She regarded him with amusement and raised an eyebrow in challenge at him, “I wonder how I could repay your noble deed, Dr Enys?”

“Maybe you could give me your phone number?” Oh, Christ. He did not just say that. Those words did not just come out of his mouth. He must still be dreaming; this is a nightmare. Or it’s true; alcohol kills the brain. All his brain cells must be dead for him to have blurted that out. What a twat. “Errr, I mean in case you ever lose your–“

She held up her hand, laughing at his lack of composure and the blush that coloured his cheeks. “Sure, why not?” she shrugged nonchalantly, while almost snatching his mobile out of his hand to enter her number. She entered it quickly and handed his phone back to him. “Test it to make sure I entered it right.” He nodded, thinking it was a smart idea – when really, she just wanted to have his number, too. Her phone lit up, displaying an unknown caller. “Great, it worked. I’ll just save your number, too.” She displayed her new contact ‘Dr Enys’ in confirmation.

He grinned and shook his head. He opened his mouth to ask her something when his phone rang so loudly it caused them both to jump. He noted the caller and excused himself without making any effort to vacate the room or even move off the bed.

“Morning,” he chirped.

“Afternoon, more like,” laughed Demelza. She cleared her throat overdramatically and waited. “So? Spill it.”

Dwight glanced involuntarily at Caroline, who pretended to text someone while he spoke on the phone. “What are you talking about?”

Demelza huffed impatiently. “What happened after the pub last night?” she drawled suggestively.

Again, he glanced at Caroline, hoping she couldn’t hear this. “Nothing.”

“Dwight! You better be kidding!” Demelza accused with a whine, and Dwight could hear Ross groan beside her on the couch.

“Give me the phone, love,” Dwight heard Ross instruct her. There was a moment’s pause. “Dwight, it’s Ross,” he croaked, his throat still burning from the near entire bottle of whisky he drank the previous night. “Listen, mate, do you actually mean to tell me you left the pub with not one but two beautiful women–“ Demelza slapped his bicep “–on your arm, and you didn’t even shag one of them?!”

“Yep,” he confirmed sardonically, slightly annoyed at their attempted interference in his sex life.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Ross groaned, squishing his eyes together, “you were right, Dem: he likes her. He likes Caroline. That’s why he couldn’t shag Rosina. Why are you always right about these things?” Demelza’s excited shriek pierced Dwight’s ears, and she snatched the phone from her husband.

“I fucking knew it!” she gloated. “When did this start?”

Dwight looked at Caroline, who was staring absently at her phone, likely scrolling through social media, or so he hoped. “I really don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he said through gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence. “Why are you acting so weird? You normally tell me everything. Wait. Is– is she there right now? Cough once for yes and twice for no.” He coughed once. “Ooh, alright, we’ll continue this conversation another time,” she taunted, a smile colouring her tone, a tone that suggested that she would not forget to bring this up again. “Oh, by the way, tell Caroline I got her a job at the café.”

Dwight’s annoyance melted, and he smiled. “You did?! When?”

Ross linked his fingers through Demelza’s, and she giggled. “Yesterday, I texted John about 30 seconds after she asked for a glass of Moet. I like a girl with taste. Plus, I like her. She’s really funny, and lovely.”

“She is, isn’t she?” he agreed, before quickly clearing his throat. Demelza chuckled in victory. “Alright, I’ll tell her, thanks, Dem.” At this, Caroline’s head popped up from her phone, her face curious. “Bye!”

Caroline stared at Dwight as he placed his phone by her blanket feet. “Was that Demelza?” she asked innocently, knowing full well it was.

“Yeah, she says she got you a job at the café!”

Caroline spilt some of the tea on Dwight’s duvet as she happy-danced in celebration of her new job. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she tried to wipe it up with her hand, only spreading it further. 

“It’s OK, don’t worry about it. They’re due a wash anyways. Well done on the job! I’ll give you Dem’s number so you two can sort out a start date. What do you say we get you a celebratory breakfast that will simultaneously cure your hangover?”

Caroline shrugged. “Oh, Demelza already gave me her number last night. She’s so nice!” Dwight smiled in agreement. She sipped what remained of her tea, “What did you have in mind for breakfast?”

He stood up and placed his hand over his heart. “A waffle sandwich, the breakfast of champions,” he announced.

Caroline’s face contorted in disgust. “A waffle sandwich?”

Her expression caused Dwight’s face to fall. Thinking she must have misunderstood him, he elaborated: “Yeah. Like, potato waffles on a sandwich. It’s delicious. Have you never had one?”

Her laugh came out in a high-pitched tone. She threw the duvet cover off and gestured dramatically to her flawless, hourglass figure. “Does this look like the body of a woman who eats potatoes between slices of bread? I think I just gained half a stone thinking about it!”

Dwight managed not to allow his gaze to linger on her slender form. “Oh, come on. Did you not just tell me to live a little? You should take your own advice!”

Caroline narrowed her blue eyes at him and bit the inside of her cheek, considering the throbbing in her head. “You promise it will cure my hangover?”

“I promise,” he said, offering her his hand.

She took his offer of assistance and bent down to get her shoes. “Well, alright, then. But first I need to go home, shower and get changed. I should probably go pick up Horace from Mrs Figg, too. Can you wait half an hour?”

He could wait, and as soon as she left, he began to tidy his flat; washing the dishes and putting a small load of laundry on, tea-soaked bed covers included. Just as he was about to sit down, his phone pinged.

Caroline 12:11pm Hi! Sorry for taking ages, I had to sit down in the shower! Hangovers are the worst. I’m finally ready, but Horace is at my heels, is it okay if he comes too? X He’s really friendly. Plus, how can you say no to this little face? X

That was a cute little face, Dwight had to admit.

Dwight 12:11pm Of course Horace can come too x

Less than a minute later, she appeared at his door, wearing an oversized white woollen jumper and pink pug pyjama trousers while being draped in a fleece blanket. Horace growled at Dwight and stepped in front of Caroline.

Dwight laughed at her appearance and stepped aside to let her in, “You look comfy!”

“Oh, I am!” she confirmed with a grin as she entered.

He closed the door behind her and locked it. “What are those?” He asked, pointing to the bag of small, orange balls that dangled from her left hand.

She held them up and gave them a small shake. “They’re clearly oranges.”

He blinked slowly and let out a sigh, “I can see that but why?”

“Why not?” she asked, a tad indignant. “They have vitamin C and stuff, right? Plus, I need something to balance out all the carbs you’re forcing me to eat!”

“As a doctor, I can indeed confirm that oranges do have vitamin C.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, we may be hungover, but at least we won’t contract scurvy!”

Caroline groaned and swung the bag of tangerines at his side. “Oh, my God, stop! I can’t bear your terrible doctor jokes. If you don’t put a film on in the next ten seconds, Horace and I are leaving,” she teased, her nose aloft. Horace yapped in agreement, quite ready to leave right now, and continued to glare at the doctor man who had recently distracted his mum.

Dwight held his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. No more shit jokes! What do you want to watch?”

Caroline hummed as she considered this and sat herself down on the beige sofa. She swept her feet up before encouraging Horace to jump up and join her. “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” she answered, almost automatically.

Dwight’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he placed his hand on his hips as he eyed the popular DVD boxset on the bookshelf. “The Goblet of Fire? Why?”

She looked at him as though the answer was obvious. “It’s the best one,” she announced with certainty, carefully smoothing Horace’s wrinkled brow.

He hung his head and shook it slowly, unable to process this information. “You’ve got to be kidding!” he insisted, “The Chamber of Secrets is the best. The Goblet of Fire isn’t even in my top 3!” The toaster pinged, signalling that the four potato waffles were at their peak crispiness.

Caroline glanced past Dwight and into the kitchen. “Well, then, why don’t you get my promised hangover cure and I’ll put The Goblet of Fire on and explain to you why you are wrong?” She batted her eyelids and smiled sweetly at him, and Dwight found himself doing her bidding.

“Are you always so demanding?” he called over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

“I’m afraid so!” She called back, smiling, not in the least bit sorry.

As he busied himself in the kitchen buttering some slices of bread, Caroline noticed some piles of paper on the coffee table as she crossed the room to fetch the DVD off the shelf. She placed the disk into the side of the large TV – which hung on the wall – and made her way back to the sofa, where Horace remained seated, sulking.  Her curiosity getting the better of her, she pried at the documents on the table: several folders with titles she could barely understand, charts, graphs, something about insulin.

“Oh, sorry about all of that,” he said as he came back into the room, placing their sandwiches down on an uncovered part of the coffee table. “It’s for work; I’m going away on Friday.” He offered her a sandwich before gathering his notes and putting them to one side.

Her heart fluttered oddly at his announcement, and she accepted the proffered brunch with a degree of hesitation. “Away? Where?” She finally took a small bite, and then another, and another.

“Boston. I’m attending a medical conference; I’ll be there for about two weeks.” He had said so casually, negating to tell her that he was, in fact, a guest speaker on account of his pioneering research into type 2 diabetes.

Two weeks was a long time, she thought. “Impressive!” He couldn’t tell if she was genuinely impressed or mocking him. “But you’ll miss my first day in the café, when I win over the hearts of millions with my coffee making skills!” She continued to devour the carb-loaded sandwich, annoyed that she genuinely liked it.

Dwight observed this and chuckled in victory, not even feeling the need to comment. He reached for a tangerine on the table and flicked it up in the air with his wrist before catching it again. “Hm, yeah, I’m sorry. You’ll have to make me one when I get back.” He rested his feet on the table and settled back into the sofa, press play on the DVD remote.

Caroline smirked as she chewed her sandwich, “I’ll see if I can fit into my schedule.”

[primeacumen]

✩ For Anar

Send ‘✩’ for the following:

Cut because this is a massive wall of text.

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Vivian, definitely. She’s an emotional and tempestuous creature by nature. Most of the time she tries to avoid being ‘too’ emotional as she views it as a weakness. However, her anger and impulsivity frequently get the best of her when she isn’t getting her way.Who threatens to leave but never actually does? I’m not sure. Probably a mixture of the two. Depends on how bad it is. Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Vivian because she’s overdramatic as hell and hates not getting her way. Not saying she’d go far, but she definitely probably makes herself scarce to casually meditate and talk with the ghost in her head or the Force.Who trashes the house? Vivian. See above explanations. xD Unless Vivian did something really terrible. Like if she died I imagine Anar might casually lose his shit and destroy everything.Do either of them get physical? I think the only way of that either of them ever would if is it was a massive betrayal and involved murder attempts on the other. Even then I think there would be some form of hesitation due to how strong their bond is between them.How often do they argue/disagree? Probably a decent amount. Vivian is definitely more light-sided or neutral than Anar is. Vivian sometimes values “helping” people and being kind to them over being pragmatic and Anar prefers to be pragmatic (and is likely more loyal to the Empire). Vivian prefers to force people to owe her or be ‘surprised’ by how ‘different’ of a Sith she is. While really it’s just manipulation and the two butt heads over this as her way usually isn’t pragmatic at all and ultimately isn’t better for the Empire, but for herself.Who is the first to apologize? Vivian, probably, because she just wants to get the argument over with. Unless it’s something she feels strongly over. Then Anar might have to, otherwise, he’ll be waiting for ever xD

Sex:

Who is on top? AnarWho is on the bottom? VivWho has the strangest desires? I think they’re pretty even on this level.Any kinks? A decent amount! The use of Force powers, Vivian has a kink for belonging to Anar even though she’ll probably never admit it to anyone but him, biting, scratchingWho’s dominant in bed? Anar, Viv can be dominant, she just hates it and prefers him to be in control. It feels more ‘at home’ to her…if that makes sense.Is head ever in the equation? Always, they both love giving and receiving.If so, who is better at performing it? Both. Viv is paranoid and insecure about not being ‘good enough’ for him so she’s probably refined her technique (for him) to perfection. Anar likely has more experience.Ever had sex in public? Probably, Viv can’t keep her hands to herself and Anar has no shame.Who moans the most? Viv, she’s loud in bed always.Who leaves the most marks? Mixture. Viv enjoys being marked by him to show off who she ~belongs to. Viv just likes to casually mark Anar in the same way and enjoys biting and scratching during sex.Who screams the loudest? Probably Viv, see above lmaoWho is the more experienced of the two? Anar, definitely. Viv’s had a ~thing for him since she was very young so didn’t really care to involve herself with anyone else until she started training on Korriban. Once she became an apprentice she threw herself into her work and ~becoming powerful. So no one else or sex really mattered. There were one or two flings, but she didn’t find them satisfying thus didn’t bother repeating.Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Fuck probably, as it’s what she prefers. Though when she’s feeling particularly amorous, making love is definitely on the table. (…Probably literally knowing these two.)Rough or soft? Both? Both is good.How long do they usually last? Awhile, probably. They’re both in pique physical condition and force users. (Not to mention Viv’s libido never seems to end…)Is protection used? On Viv’s end at least it is. She has no intentions of becoming a mother anytime soon and isn’t sure she’d ever be qualified. Nor does she really know what Anar wants and figures he’ll probably want a ~true sith lady eventually.Does it ever get boring? Probably not.Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Imperial Fleet Elevator? That’s the first thing that popped into my head so we’re running with that.

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? Vivian’s not, but she figures Anar will probably want to continue his line sometime. She also figures she probably should continue the Kallig line, but the idea weirds her out.If so, how many children do your muses want/have? Two, boy and a girl. Not sure with Anar.Who is the favorite parent? Probably Anar because Viv has exactly 0 chill anyways…and can you imagine a Sith mama bear? Yikes. That’s Viv in a nutshell.Who is the authoritative parent? Both, just in different ways.Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? I don’t think either of them would tbqh. Mostly because it’s important and Korriban. I can’t imagine them having a child who isn’t force sensitive. That bloodline would be wayyyy too strong.Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Both likely.Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? Both of them.Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Vivian and the possibility of her shocking the hell out of them is significant.Who changes the diapers? The slaves/nannies because let’s face it, Anar would totally have them help and Viv ain’t going near that.Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? ^ See above. Otherwise I imagine they’d probably switch off.Who spends the most time with the children? Depends on the time period. On one hand, Viv likes to run off looking for ancient relics. On the other, if they’re ruling Zakuul they’d both have more time.Who packs their lunch boxes? Servants.Who gives their children ‘the talk’? Anar, because Viv would probably overshare. Or a private tutor.Who cleans up after the kids? ServantsWho worries the most? Since it’s their offspring, I imagine they’d both worry pretty equally, though perhaps over different things.Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? Vivian probably.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Both.Who is the little spoon? VivWho gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Unsure! Viv probably?Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  Viv, though Anar is a close runner-up.How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Viv is going to cling to him like a sloth, so hopefully a long ass time. xDWho gives the most kisses? Anar, probably. Viv is more touchy feely, but not necessarily with kisses.What is their favourite non-sexual activity? Drinking tea together and just talking. Otherwise, I imagine they just like to go on quiet walks together on Clamus.Where is their favourite place to cuddle? On their ships or in their homes. Someplace a bit more private.Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Viv!How often do they get time to themselves? Probably a good amount. Since they have a strong force bond they don’t really have to physically be around one another to feel the other which makes being apart much easier than normal. They both prefer to physically be around the other, but both get ample alone time.

Sleeping:

Who snores? If anyone does, it’s Anar. Though I imagine it’s more talking in his sleep kind of thing.If both do, who snores the loudest? ^Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Depends on where they are/when. Viv strongly prefers to share though.If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Cozy up.Who talks in their sleep? Anar mostly. Viv sometimes does as well, though swears up and down she doesn’t.What do they wear to bed? Anar wears nothing. Viv usually will just put on whatever’s comfortable, much to Anar’s horror and as a result he usually buys her more fashionable things or comfy lingerie.Are either of your muses insomniacs? I don’t think Anar is, but Vivian has issues sometimes because of the ghost in her head and because of a lot of the things that happened in her life. I imagine Anar has bad nights as well and Vivian usually stays up with him and supports him as best as she can.Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? NopeDo they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Intertwined.Who wakes up with bed hair? Viv! She has so much of it.Who wakes up first? Viv, she’s a morning person usually.Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Probably depends on the day and if either are feeling particularly romantic.What is their favourite sleeping position? Viv likes to sleep on her side or against Anar’s chest. Anar sleeps on his back or curls around Viv. (Big Sith, Little Sith)Who hogs the sheets? Anar, because Viv is stealing his body heat by pressing her freezing body against him and she won’t move.Do they set an alarm each night? Probably? They have droids for that though.Can a television be found in their bedroom? Most likely.Who has nightmares? Both of them do with regular frequency.Who has ridiculous dreams? Viv as she also sees stuff from her ghost’s past.Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? AnarWho makes the bed? Servants/droids, otherwise it doesn’t get done.What time is bed time? Whenever they feel like.Any routines/rituals before bed? Sex probably. Massages are also appreciated.Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Anar definitely. xD

Work:

Who is the busiest? Leaning towards Viv, but pretty equal.Who rakes in the highest income? Viv when she was a Darth.Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope, sorta?Who takes the most sick days? Neither?Who is more likely to turn up late to work? NeitherWho sucks up to their boss? VivianWhat are their jobs? Emperor’s wrath and Darth of Ancient Knowledge. Moreso now things are changing and Viv has no idea what she’s doing other than helping Anar take over Zakuul.Who stresses the most? VivDo your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Viv has a love/hate with hers and I’m not sure how Anar feels.Are your muses financially stable? Probably!

Home:

Who does the washing? Droids/Servants.Who takes out the trash?  Droids/Servants. Who does the ironing?  Droids/Servants. Who does the cooking? They alternate since they both have different dishes they like.Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? VivWho is messier? Viv, her ship would be cluttered without her droid.Who leaves the toilet roll empty? AnarWho leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Viv, Anar has more appreciation towards his clothingWho forgets to flush the toilet? Neither Who is the prankster around the house? NeitherWho loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? NeitherWho mows the lawn?  Droids/Servants. Who answers the telephone? NOT SUREWho does the vacuuming?  Droids/Servants. Who does the groceries?  Droids/Servants or VivWho takes the longest to shower? Both take terribly long showersWho spends the most time in the bathroom? Anar

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? NopeHow many cars do they own? 2-3ish ships?Do they own their home or do they rent? Uh..not sure ‘cause Star Wars.Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Viv prefers coastline and Anar prefers the countryside, so who knows who wins there. Probably one of each. I think Anar’s home on Clamus is in the forest/countryside though. (I think.)Do they live in the city or in the country? ^ Unless we’re counting strongholds too.Do they enjoy their surroundings? YesWhat’s their song? Bloodsport - Raleigh Ritchie (at least that’s my favorite on the playlist I’m slowly building for them)What do they do when they’re away from each other? I’m not sure about Anar, but Viv usually frequently reaches out through their bond to make sure he’s alright and vice versa. Otherwise, she usually sends him sassy holocomm messages about the cool relics she finds, ancient sith texts, or the idiots she has to work with. Also anytime she sees something he’d like she buys it for him.Where did they first meet? Clamus, his house.How did they first meet?  Viv was a slave to his household and she was born into that life. They’re roughly around the same age so they met fairly early on even though they didn’t grow close until later on. Who spends the most money when out shopping? Anar, definitely.Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Anar xDWho finds it amusing when the other trips over? I’m not sure!Any mental issues? Both of them seem to have some degree of PTSD due to dealing with the war, betrayels, and people trying to kill them.Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.Who kills the spiders around the house? Anar probably.Their favorite place? Clamus! Vivian also has soft spots for Voss and Korriban though.Who pays the bills? AnarDo they have any fears for their future? I think they both have different fears. I’m not entirely sure what Anar’s are, but Vivian is afraid of dying alone, having Anar and the other people closest to her betray her, and not being remembered for her massive contributions to the Empire as well as how powerful she is.Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Both!Who uses up all of the hot water? Both xDWho’s the tallest? AnarWho’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but I’m going to lean with Viv.Who wanders around in their underwear? Viv because Anar wanders around naked.Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Viv, sometimes to be annoying.What do they tease each other about? How short Viv is, their individual aliases, their companions, Viv’s terrible accent when speaking High Sith, Anar’s jewelry, etc.Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? ANAR. Vivian is 100% the type who puts comfort before fashion as well as utility. She’ll throw on whatever armor is the best and not worry how it looks. The only reason she has any fashion sense at all is because of Anar.Do they have mutual friends? Yep! I think so! Their companions and some other sith probably.Who crushed first?  Vivian. She’s had a thing for him since she was a little girl/teenager.Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nope!Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Anar, or neither.Who swears the most? Viv (I think!)

[amotherfuckinp]

Welcome to the beginning of the end.

This has been a long time coming.  I’ve thought about doing it for years, but the need hasn’t come til now.  I need to leave my husband.  And for some reason, I feel the need to document it.  I should start from the beginning.

The night was December 6th, 2012.  For me, it was love at first sight.  We initially met on a dating website, but for our “first date” I told him to meet me at a bar where we could smoke, play pool, and has a juke box.  (He didn’t have a car at the time, so I had to drive to his neighborhood for the date.)  Little did I know that the bar he chose was a crack bar full of no good, ambitious-less losers stuck in a small town that shall remain nameless even though I should out it for being the Devil’s playground.  Holy run-on sentence.  But that was his crowd.  The date was amazing, I got drunk and pretended to be too drunk to drive so I could stay at his place that night [I would like to note that was a first and only time thing for me.  But I was enamored by him.]  So we spent that night, and pretty much every night thereafter together.

We moved in together after about a year.  Mostly because his roommate went to jail for selling drugs, and he almost went with him.  (That’s a good time- having to watch your boyfriend turn himself into the police.  That may be a different story for a different time.)  I liked to think that I “saved” him.  From a shitty small town where he would likely end up eventually in jail, or the baby daddy of some white trash pill popping piece of garbage.  I’d say it was only about a month into coinhabited bliss that it started.  He would go out with his friends, and disappear for hours at a time.  Without a trace.  Without a text.  Without a warning.  Now, I’m a worryer.  And I should definitely add that I’m naive as well.  So for a while, I would just think “Oh, he got too drunk to drive.  Maybe his phone died.  Maybe he’s dead.”  Who knows.  Only for him to resurface usually around 7am.  Perhaps at this point, the less naive reader has already figured it out.  Fortunately, and unfortunately, I had never experienced anything like this situation, so I literally had no idea what was coming when he walked in one morning at his usual time and said “I have to tell you something.”  My immediately response as your typical female was “Who is she? I’ll fucking kill her.”  It wasn’t that easy.  It was much worse if you ask me.

I’ve never dated anyone that’s ever done more than smoke a little weed.  So when he dropped the coke bomb on me, I was speechless.  I remember repeating over and over “Well, what do we do? What can we do?”  Oh, if only I knew then what I know now.  You can’t do shit.  You are fucked.  As soon as a loved one starts loving them some drugs, you should just kiss them goodbye right then and there.  It’s been a good fucked up past 3ish years.

It is now a little over 3 years since this ball was dropped on me.  At first, my older coworkers kept telling me “April, he’ll never change. You can do better. Just leave him.”  Sooo much easier said than done.  I’ve been hearing it for 3 years now, everytime thinking that we’ll think of the magic solution to keep him from using drugs.  Um, I’m sitting here writing this and I have no fucking idea where he is at this exact moment, so you can already see where this is going. We took him to one NA meeting, got him evaluated for an outpatient rehab, tried to involve his family, he joined the fire department, tried to cut off his friends, tried to cut off his money, and in my latest adventure, I went to a Nar Anon meeting.  All things to TRY to keep him from doing the most hurtful thing in the world to me.  Obv, to no avail.

So here I sit, finally doing what I’ve thought about doing for at least a year now.  Documenting my experience, Carrie Bradshaw style, glass of wine and all (at this point, I’m not sure wine was the best choice.  Too late now.)  In my defense, when you come home from an awesome weekend trip with the women of your family, and your apartment looks like it hosted the Rager of the Year while you were gone, unbeknownst to me, you deserve a glass of wine to take the edge off.  And hopefully put me to sleep so I can stop living this nightmare.  Everything rearranged, apparently to accommodate a poker tournament in my dining room and a couple of rounds of drinking games in my living room.  A mirror from my living room on my kitchen counter, traces of cocaine still visible and a Dunkin Donuts gift card that was used to chop it up.  An almost empty bottle of Jager and an almost empty, capless bottle of Tito’s also present in the kitchen.  OH and shot glasses from my collection of places I’ve been that have always been STRICTLY for display, strewn about on my counter top, some still with a little bit of nastyness left in them.  I’m going to guess people, at least 1 and I’m terrified to admit I believe female, slept here while I was away.  I feel the need to mention that I am the proud mother of 5 feline fur babies, that weren’t fed and seemed as lost as I was with the mess that was left for me.  How rude.

I got home 3 and a half hours ago.  I cleaned my apartment to return it to pre-My Wife is Out of Town Bash state.  And I haven’t heard from my wonderful, loving, and apparently super honest and trustworthy husband innn...17 hours. (Hopefully you’ve caught on to the sarcasm.)  He’s done some pretty fucked up shit to me, and literally EVERYTIME manages to top himself!  I won’t lie, I’m actually quite impressed.  In a sick, dark kind of way.  Like, how can you rip my heart out and ruin me as a person even more than you did last time? (Which was a week and a half ago when he didn’t come home from work because he left 5 hours early and disappeared for a good 12 hours.)  As per usual, he gone and done it.  Topped himself.  I knew something was amiss when I went to bed last night, and I had several panic attacks on the way home, but I wasn’t even prepared for what I came home to.

So now I wait.  By myself.  With some wine.  And think about what the fuck I’m going to do.  Everytime I say “This is the last time.”  But this has to be the last time.  He lied to me too many times to count in the past 3 days, and I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE HE IS RIGHT NOW.  It’s such an easy question: What kind of HUSBAND does that to his WIFE?  I need to start thinking about me and my sanity and my well being.  Because there is no way in FUCK that I will spend the rest of my life dealing with this.  I am hurt beyond words.  I wish I could explain right now how I feel.  But I guess you get the gist by now.  I’ve always considered myself a writer, so this is my best coping mechanism.  Even though I won’t lie, to relive everything to type it out kind of sucks.  MORE WINE.  To be continued if he ever comes home...