#anyway my ribs can breathe now but i still cant sleep

[unimportantweirdo]

i'm sure 2 hours sleep will be great for my emotional stability when i have to say goodbye to my best friend in 4 hours

[constanteyeburn]

Bored and cant sleep so I’m gonna write actual garbage. apologies in advance for how bad the grammar might be

”I, Foggy Nelson, swear to tickle the everliving shit out of you, Matt Murdock.” He grins right before pouncing on a nervous Matt.

Foggy scribbles his fingers over Matt’s ribs, relishing in how panicked peals of laughter spout from his mouth. Foggy softly digs his fingers into Matt’s uppermost ribs, causing hysterical laughter to fill the room.

”Shihit foHOGGY NOHO WAHAIT PLEAHA-��� Matt crumples, falling to the floor.

Before Matt is able to bring his hands up to protect himself Foggy pins them down under his knees rendering him more vulnerable to the torturous sensations. His laughter increases with little gasps before every peel of laughter. Clearly even more desperate to get away from foggy’s seeking fingers.

Foggy smirks, pleased with the reactions he draws from Matt.

He pauses the tickling to ponder how he should wreck Matt next. With one hand, Foggy lightly digs his fingers into Matt’s back ribs causing him to cackle and writhe. He slides his other hand under Matt and tickles in small circular motions on his upper back.

”FOHOGGY DOHONT- SHIHIT PLEAHAHA!” Matt is a mess, begging and laughing so loud he fears his neighbors will make complaints.

“Dont do what Matt?” Foggy says trying to swallow a smile.

Matt nearly fell for that tease. He realized just before he opened his mouth to reply. Instead he just laughed, not able to speak very clearly anyway. The longer the tickling went on the more it tickled.

His usual -albeit slightly hysterical from being tickled- boisterous laughter stark against Foggy’s chuckles of amusement. Foggy never once stopped tickling Matt. ‘The devil of Hell’s Kitchen loves to be tickled, imagine if the press found that out.’ Matt thought.

He had always enjoyed the feeling of being tickled. Yes his heightened senses made it much more unbearable but the trust and security he was able to feel when Foggy tickled him was amazing. He knew Foggy wouldn’t go too far. He might drive him to the brink of insanity yes, but from previous experiences he knows that foggy would stop the moment he called out the safe word.

Prior to this torture, Foggy had mentioned a safe word, in case the tickling was too much for Matt.

He had said “Come on! I know you’re not fine Matt. I can tell how drained you feel. Well I don’t know exactly, but I can see that it’s affecting you pretty badly.“ He paused thinking of a way to help him feel better. He grinned when a distant memory flooded back to him. His heartbeat picked up. He knew Matt could tell, and that just made it even better.

“I also know that it is my job as your best friend to make you feel better. And guess what? I can also tell that you need a good laugh..” He paused once more to look at Matt’s body language.

When Matt didn’t feel up to being tickled he would stay still and have a hesitant frown on his face, as if debating how to tell Foggy that he didn’t feel up to it. On the other hand, when Matt was perfectly up to it, he would blink rapidly and his senses would become even more aware of his surroundings. He would then start subtly squirming and he would start stammering out something.

Matt did in fact start blinking rapidly and took a few steps backward. He looked like he was about to stammer out an argument that he didn’t need a “good laugh”.

Foggy placed his hands on Matt’s sides not yet tickling him. Matt’s breathing picked up and he tensed waiting. Foggy looked him up and down once more watching body language just in case. He moved to teasingly whisper in Matt’s ear, “get ready buddy..and just say ’avocados’ if you feel you’re too ticklish to handle any more..”

Matt flinched away from his mouth and giggled. Foggy took few steps back and took a deep breath in. He cleared his throat before he began, ”I, Foggy Nelson, swear to tickle the everliving shit out of you, Matt Murdock.”

And now, Foggy Nelson, is now in fact tickling the everliving shit out of Matt Murdock.

Foggy was still digging small circles into Matt’s back keeping him in a never ending state of ticklish heaven despair. His tickle laughter had gasps intertwined within it.

Matt was almost getting used to the ticklish sensation before foggy hit a particularly sensitive spot on his back.. Matt absolutely lost it.

Matt shrieked uncharacteristically, shocking Foggy which caused him to jump.

His legs curled up trying to protect himself, he just hit Foggy’s back with his knees. He desperately tugged on his hands trying to get them loose but it seemed being tickled weakened him a great deal. He shook his head side to side trying to lessen the sensations, shrieking laughter pouring from his mouth. He tried his best to beg for mercy but he couldn’t form any coherent words with the state he was in. If he thought he was going insane before he wasn’t sure how to describe how he was feeling now.

Matt had never been tickled so intensely on his back before. He wasn’t sure how to handle it. All he could do was laugh and thrash. He could feel his throat going dry. His laughter becoming slightly hoarse.

He was trapped in between two difficult outcomes. He could either mouth or try his best to say avocados (yes this is a slight reference to their “avocados at law” saying) or he could allow himself to be tickled even more. Yes the tickling he was experiencing right now very extreme, but he found he loved it and relished in the feeling of being driven to hoarse laughter. He chose not to say the safe word just yet. He hoped Foggy wouldn’t stop too early.

While Foggy did enjoy seeing the splitting grin on Matt’s face he did start to worry if he was going to far. He knew they had set up a safe word right before but maybe Matt forgot.. Another desperate shriek from Matt cut into his thoughts. Tears of mirth begun to form in Matt’s eyes. He could slightly make out a few screamed “FOHOHOGGY“s but never the safe word.

He lightened up his tickling and slowed it down a bit to check on Matt. He knew Matt liked to be insanely tickled but he wasn’t 100% how far to insanity he liked to be tickled.

Matt took gasping breaths while still giggling. His stomach ached from laughter but the happiness and satisfaction he felt made up for it.

Foggy eventually stopped the tickling and inspected his best friend intensely.

Matt couldn’t help but squirm at the fact that he was still left vulnerable with the way his hands were still pinned. Still, he eventually relaxed and waited for Foggy to continue again, assuming his was just debating where to strike next.

Matt felt giddy and light. His entire body tingled and shook from exertion. He lolled his head back on the couch. If he was less tickle high he would’ve tried to protect himself from further tickles.

”wha- whih-shihit wahahit,” Matt took in a few breaths before continuing, “why’d yohou stohop? Ihit was juhust getting good” In a quiet voice, never able to stop his giggles for long enough.

In all the years Foggy has been friends with, and tickled Matt, he had never heard Matt sound so light yet disappointed. Foggy was glad Matt couldn’t see the large grin on his face. Did his heartbeat give away his excitement? Oh,,probably, but he didn’t think Matt could detect much in the state he was in.

Matt froze. He realized what he just revealed and started to panic. What if Foggy thought he was a freak? Or made fun of him for it? He could feel Foggy‘s heartbeat speed up. He felt his heart drop. All traces of giddiness from earlier gone.

“uhm- not- not that I liked it it’s just I uh..it just helped me get my mind off of things.. ”He anxiously defended himself. Funny, how bad he was at it with him being a lawyer and all.

He started to climb out from under Foggy. Matt then scooted down the couch. He tried to get rid of the fear he felt within him. He was a feared vigilante yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension as Foggy still remained silent.

”Oh you- seriously Matt?“ Foggy exclaimed, his voice tainted with annoyance. Matt internally cringed and tried not to show how affected he was, tensing. He could feel dread beginning to pool within his stomach.

“I can..you can just forget anything I said it’s not that big of a deal..” Matt tried, weakly.

“What do you mean? Are you-,” Foggy sighed, “Matt I’m not grossed out by you or anything. I mean even if it’s a kink I mean it uh it’s really not all that bad y’know and-“

Matt cut him off, “It’s not a kink! It’s just..like a bonding thing- no it, it’s nothing.” He got slightly defensive.

”Alright alright it’s not a kink. I get it- well I don’t really get it but it’s not a bad thing. I’d never judge you for something as simple as this.“ Foggy said reassuringly.

Now that he knew Matt actually liked being tickled rather than just simply tolerated it, he was prepared to get a smile back on his face.

“Besides,“ Foggy began as he moved closer to Matt, grimacing as he saw him tense, “now that you let me know you actually like being tickled..I can bring a smile to your face whenever I like. I also know that you adore being tickled on your back..” Foggy grinned, his heartbeat speeding up once more.

Matt felt his own speed up as well. Before he was even able to respond Foggy had latched onto him, pulling him into a strong hug.

Matt was about to pull his arms up to reciprocate the hug but Foggy had dug all of his fingers into his back.

Caught off guard by this fast turn of events he could only shriek and laugh once more. His laughter laced with many more gasps for air. He arched his back trying to get away from the sensation. He balled Foggy’s shirt into his fists as he thrashed. His legs kicking from under them.

“NOHOHO SHIHIHI-“ He shrieked in anguish.

Foggy’s fingers somehow made their way back to the most ticklish spot on his back and his laughter then went silent. He felt himself growing weaker but the fingers never stopped their movements. He was truly helpless. Under Foggy’s entire mercy. He loved it.

Foggy really only tickled that spot for about 5 seconds since he could see how it affected Matt. He snickered, he has a vigilante-his city’s vigilante at his very mercy.

Matt’s laughter was now audible again and it was..very interesting. It contained a lot of failed attempts at begging and a lot of desperate shrieks. He barely had the energy to thrash in Foggy’s arms.

Foggy could tell he was getting tired. He wondered if he wanted him to stop on his own will or if he wanted him to push him to use the safe word. He lightened his tickles only slightly, just enough for Matt to be able to speak.

“So you want me to stop whenever I want or do you want me to tickle you to your limit?” Foggy asks, looking down at the tired out vigilante in his arms.

“Doho whatever yohou like.” The vigilante said carelessly. Foggy would make him regret that.

”Tickle you till you cry it is then!” Foggy says cheerfully before digging his arms into Matt’s armpits. Definitely not what Matt was expecting.

Matt bucked in his arms and dissolved into unbelievably desperate laughter. It seems he was just getting more ticklish the longer this went on. If he thought that one spot on his back was the most ticklish spot..wow. He was definitely not prepared for this.

His laughter kept going silent then coming back full volume. He thrashed so hard Foggy lost his grip on him and had to tackle him to grab him once more.

Foggy was going full out for him. He was drilling his fingers into his pits while his thumb massaged the areas above them, keeping Matt deliriously shrieking.

Matt wasn’t yet crying or saying the safe word so he decided to take it up a notch. ‘Sorry dude,’ he thought.

Foggy then moved his ring finger and pinky to tickle the back of his top ribs while still drilling into his pits, and massaging into the muscle around them with his thumb.

Matt‘s senses suddenly realized what was happening and decided to amplify it. He was in absolute ticklish agony.

His nerves were all lighting up and all he could feel was the fingers tickling his armpits. He couldn’t even feel the ache in his stomach. His sense of surroundings He couldn’t handle it anymore and yelled “AHAHAVOCADOHO FOHOGGY FOHOHOGGY!”

The tickling stopped immediately and Foggy let go. Matt collapsed onto the couch heavily panting. His heartbeat was strong and fast.

i cant figure out how to end this so yeah hope you liked it :,)

[yuziyuanapologist]

hi rino! i would love to hear more about chengsu with jin ling moments and/or the mermaid au if you want :)

ahhhh hello lovely! thank u for asking this ahhh i love to talk about my babies

the chengsu fics really are just tiny soft moments for now, but since ive got into sprinting recently i might try and bash at least one of them out at some point soon since i know exactly what happens in them both.

so, one fic is of qin su going to find jiang cheng after noticing him get upset at some conference somewhere, and then thinking about how jiang cheng treats jin ling when he thinks no one is looking, and hoping that he will one day treat a-song the same way (ok maybe it was not all soft oops)

and the other is qin su accidentally unloading onto jiang cheng about all her fears (and some not fears, more understanding and wanting to be happy for them) regarding jgy and lxc, so its not really explicitly relationship chengsu but i just like it when they are friends so. and im usually not big on cheating and all that but also theyre. theyre like. jin guangyao is her um. anyway. i dont know! its difficult to know where i stand but anyway, chengsu,

...you get it.

the mermaid au is! an idea that i really like but am also quite very stuck on unfortunately. its half au, half canon divergence in which handwave handwave it diverges off of ep 31 but somehow the previous events have all happened without the lans because they uh. [busted voice] they live underwater.

so, wei wuxian is captured and forced to live underwater with them so that he cant speak and therefore make any music, while hes put on trial for the whole shebang of ep 31 (except jin zixuan didnt die because im a soft hearted bitch) at first lan wangji seems is unmoved by wwx's whole existence and all but as time goes on he starts to realise that wwx isnt the villain as he has been led to believe, and that he has a family that needs saving because the burial mounds is currently under siege and oh-no-what-happens-next-will-shock-you they fall in love and stuff

lil snippets of the fics under the cut if u are interested in that!

chengsu:

She finds him - where else - by the lotus pond. Jin Ling is there, three years old now, and splashing around as if making waves will turn it into a Yunmeng lake.

Jiang Cheng is watching, tense and upset, the sort of face she's seen him make with Jin Ling thrown over his shoulder because he won't stop wailing and he refuses to sleep. But this isn't about that - obviously. She's been at the conference, just as the others have - even since her marriage is so different to the way she envisioned it - A-Yao asked for her support and her presence, and she gives both willingly. She'd been at the conference, therefore, when conversation had turned to grievances of old. When Sect Leader Jin had seen fit to publically mourn his son, and daughter-in-law, and nephew, and fill the hall with cries of hatred for their murderers.

Eyes are drawn to the loudest in the room at this point, such is always the case, but Qin Su finds her eyes on the quietest. On the closed-lipped, trembling-handed anger - no, not anger - betrayal - no, nor that -

Grief.

mermaids (the snippet could be considered pretty heavy, and kind of graphic about drowning, so be careful if that bothers you!):

The water is heavy.

The water is heavy, and suffocating.

The water is heavy, and suffocating, and drowning is what he deserves.

They never wanted him to breathe down here, to survive the spell - curse, more like, that they pretended to put on him to allow him to live underwater. This was all a ruse. He knows it. His lungs are folding in on themselves under the weight of the water, and any second now they'll be crushed completely.

He can still feel the blood seeping out from the gashes on his chest, dissipating into the water behind him, the spelled blades that sank through his ribs not allowing for the blood to stop flowing so easily.

There was pain, too, but oh, how easily he ignored it. Compared to what else he's felt, this means nothing, it is nothing. He is stronger, better, above everything that they throw at him, and when he dies in this water he will become the resent and control it from the inside, and he will watch over his family at the Burial Mounds and he will have his revenge on those who -

He is still half resent. Can't push it out of himself, think without it, rise above it. Does it matter? Perhaps not, but he would like to think he could return to himself now, climb back up onto the edge he jumped off when faced with Jin Zixun - only it seemed to have snapped something inside him, and the resentful energy flows thicker than blood, waning only for small snatches before returning in full force.

With these thoughts to distract him, he hasn't noticed that he's still alive. Beneath the lake, ankles weighed down with those engraved stones, ribs still flowing over with blood - only they're not, anymore.

He's alive, no longer breathing, no longer bleeding. His hands, when he looks down, are colourless and icy cold, and the water filling his mouth no longer feels unwelcome.

Is he alive? He can't be.

Cursed, is what he is. Neither alive nor dead, neither resent nor golden energy, neither human nor creature of the deep.

He exists, but as an affront to nature. And voiceless.

Voiceless. Powerless.

Trapped.

[fakeloveaskblog]

*Hugs Remus*

Everything is gonna be okay

*Summons a plushie for Remy under their pillow so maybe Virgil doesn't see*

Remy, are you doing okay?

(I'm not good at advice giving like that other anon with the long asks (In my head I just call them demon) but I wanna help so pluchies and hugs.)

~Ghost

(implied U!virgil)

Remus jumped from surprise when he felt the hug. He moved the glass bottle over his head as he turned around. When he saw it was just you he lowered it again and relaxed.

"Jeez dude I nearly gave you one hell of a wound. Sorry, still a bit out of it, makes me extra jumpy" He grinned "I can still hit it over your head if you want"

He threw the bottle against the brick wall instead. It flied off into dozens upon dozens of pieces. He had a whole pile of bottles next to him.

"I found them in the dumpster behind 7-eleven! Pretty neat huh! I also found this!" He motioned for the sandwich he was holding "But I mean uhm I found it inside the shop" (He'd added pickles, mustard and sprinkles to it)

He let out a little laugh as he threw another bottle.

--

You were lucky really. Virgil had just left to do an errand when you sent the plushie. It landed beneath the pillow and since Remy was laying curled up with their head against it they obviously felt it.

They moved their arm, slowly, to take it out. It was a brightly yellow plush snake. It's lil snake tongue was sticking it, it had striking brown eyes and a small hat on it's head. Remy bleeped back at it before settling on a tired smile.

When they heard your voice however they visibly got startled. Their body tried to move but quickly stopped when the pain got worse. They did however turn their head to quickly glance around the room.

"holy shit? one of the ghosts?" For a moment it actually looked like they were going to cry "i- you all had been kinda quiet for a while- i kinda maybe thought like y'all had started hating me. im just like. im feeling a bit alone right now. sometimes. but im. im glad youre here"

Hugging the snake close to their chest made their joints hurt but they did it anyway. They rubbed it's soft fur against their cheek for comfort. They hesitated before answering.

"i....i dont think im...okay....im so nauseous and tired and exhausted and my head spins and everything hurts and sometimes- i just kinda wanna go into a coma until my body is better. i hate my body so much. everything with it. everything. and virgil-"

They gulped. The plushie had a faint smell of lemons and lime. Like the shampoo Janus used.

They lowered their voice even "virgil.....virgil....did a mistake....and...and i know he's sorry and it will- it cant ever happen again....but i still feel so...so...." Their words trailed off.

It hurt to move their neck. The bruise was still there.

"i...i really hope i can talk to picani soon. dr picani. my head feels so fucking full of thoughts it like hurts. i dont like remember what day it is. im so stupid. my memory is just. it just hurts too much my eyes are all blurry. i was gonna have a session on wednesday i think? do you know what day it is? i hope my session is soon. i mean i probs cant go but i can call him right? he would do that right? but then i cant talk about it- i mean- virgil would- virgil is nice sorry i dunno what im talking about im so stupid"

A small wince left their lips. They buried their head against the plushie.

"im so horrible. im so horrible. i shouldnt want to. i shouldnt want to talk to janus or remus. i shouldnt. i feel so guilty. they probs hate me. they havent messaged me or anything. my head is spinning so much but i think they havent messaged me i mean. sorry everything is a blur. it hurts so bad. the air in here is too dirty. its too much smoke. i cant breathe. i shouldnt want to talk to them. im sorry. i shouldnt"

Their eyes were red from sleep deprivation. Their ribs hurt a bit extra from hunger. Their stomach was so empty they could hear the water go down when they drank. Their hair was a mess and their dysphoria hadn't been this bad in a long while. They felt so disgusting like this.

"Sorry gal im tots rambling" Their lip wobbled a little "its just really really nice to talk to someone. someone who isnt virgil. sometimes its like hes a wall and it just gets so fucking frustrating only talking to him. but i have to! or i'll literally go fucking insane! my- im in too much pain to be able to focus on any show or video or social media. all i can do is just lay here and be stuck in my stupid thoughts! unless he's here to talk to! and he's just so fucking wall like lately its driving me nuts! but i- dont tell him that. i love him"

They looked down into the yellowing sheets. There was some ash on the floor. Some stumped out cigarettes as well. Piles of dirty clothes. Empty water bottles. Dust that had collected into entire lumps.

"...i love him...i cant leave anyway.......i cant even walk to the door...." They mumbled.

Their eyelids had gotten so heavy. It was like they were sinking down into the sheets. The pain was so bad it felt like they were going to throw up. The plushie helped. If just by comforting them.

"sorry....sorry gal...just talking is draining...i have so little energy....please....please talk to me again....please.....i just wanna talk to you and picani and- and- yknow. sorry. i think...i think im gonna sleep for a bit"

[curiosity-killed]

sunbeam flaring

hair...healing...thoughts...?? They’re Dumbasses, Ur Honor

(title stolen from Love Sonnet XI by Neruda bc I had litcherally no idea what to call it)

word count: 2354

He notices it on a perfectly ordinary afternoon two weeks before Callebero’s twenty-second birthday. Inasmuch as the captain of the imperial cavalry has such a thing, it’s Sirion’s day off; he sleeps in, waking only briefly when Callebero extricates himself and presses a kiss to his cheek and then dozing until the sun is two fingers above the horizon. His morning is slow and indulgent; breakfast with Regent Aquios, who insists he call her by her first name despite the way he shies from such familiarity, followed by a few hours catching up on the paperwork and correspondence that has piled up in his office lately. Now, he pauses in the middle of running forms with Mikolan as Callebero crosses the gardens. He’s dressed formally today, in those heavy layers he hates and which always draw Sirion’s eyes to his narrow waist and the broad strength of his shoulders. An older retainer walks at his side, mirroring his frown, but it’s not their conversation that catches Sirion’s attention.

Callebero’s hair has been pulled back from the front, the long tail tucked into a neat bun that’s secured by a gold band. A spider’s-silk thread of jewels drips in a loop below it. Beneath it, the rest of his hair forms a short curtain falling just below his ear. The end of a staff taps him on the top of his head. “Stop gawking. We already know you and the imperator have turned the palace to your love nest, but you don’t have to be so obvious,” Mikolan scolds. “That is not—” Sirion starts to sign before huffing out a breath and giving up. Once she recovered from the initial shock of Valyn’s treachery and Callebero’s return, Mikolan had thrown herself gleefully into teasing him about their relationship. So far, she is still too mindful of place to say anything to Callebero, but she has taken full credit for them meeting and has not missed a single opportunity to remind Sirion of his early impressions of Callebero. There’s no point fighting such a losing battle, so he turns back to their practice and stows that startled notice away for later contemplation. It’s not like he’s unaware of it. He’d noticed Callebero scratching the back of his head with the end of a reed pen when his hair was little more than rabbit-fur fuzz, and Sirion has combed his fingers through both the long tail of his crown and the shorter locks just growing out. It’s just—he hasn’t thought about it. That night, curled close around each other with their legs tangled, Sirion skates his fingers through Callebero’s hair and tries to order his own thoughts. There’s a sharp division between the thick, downy underlayer and the longer half, sleek and silken. A fiercely selfish part of Sirion is grateful he never saw Callebero’s hair hacked short. He thinks he might have killed whoever held the blade. “I know, it’s ridiculous,” Callebero mumbles from where his face is smashed partially into the pillow and partially into Sirion’s left arm. Canting his head, Sirion shakes his fingers gently out of his hair and taps Callebero’s shoulder twice in the negative. Callebero shifts so that half his face is unburied and squints blearily up at Sirion. He’s not sure what all happened today, but Jisel had been clearly nursing a headache throughout dinner and Callebero had collapsed face first onto their bed before removing his crown or hairpieces. He’d muttered something about doing away with all laws and ceding absolute power to Jisel, to which Sirion had reasonably pointed out that she would kill him herself if he did such a thing. Groaning, Callebero had smashed his face into the pillow and muttered a string of curses that made even Sirion’s brows lift. “It is nice,” Sirion signs now. “I liked how you had it today.” Callebero squints at him, brow wrinkling as if in complete bafflement. “You may be a once-in-a-generation commander,” he says finally, “but your taste in men remains questionable.” Rolling his eyes, Sirion flicks his shoulder. “Say it again, and I’ll bite you,” he warns. For a moment, Callebero stares at him in open confusion, his lips parted around words that don’t escape beyond a faint squeak. Then, he breaks into laughter and reaches up to drag Sirion down and kiss him. “So much for my protector,” he teases. Sirion arches his eyebrows. “Jisel would say the same,” he retorts. “I can assure you Jisel would never bite me,” Callebero rejoins with a laugh. Rolling them over so that he can drape himself across Callebero’s chest and free his left arm, Sirion shakes his head. Callebero allows the shift comfortably, curling his arm around Sirion’s side to trace slow strokes up and down his back. Despite his earlier exhaustion, he’s bright-eyed now and smiles up at Sirion. “Only because she would be better prepared,” Sirion replies. At that, Callebero only breathes out a soft laugh and tilts his head to one side in apparent concession. “Very well, Commander,” he teases. “I solemnly swear not to doubt your taste in romantic partners ever again.” He leans in when Sirion presses a kiss to his lips and hums in pleasure when Sirion nips his bottom lip. “I don’t know how anyone thinks you’re such a solemn and decorous leader,” Sirion gripes. Callebero yawns and wiggles his shoulders in a mix of a shrug and an effort to nestle down into the mattress. Easing off him, Sirion settles back at his side with his arm draped over Callebero’s waist. His sleeping robes are warm and creased from being pressed so close between them, and Sirion can feel his own body slipping closer to sleep. “Mm,” Callebero hums. “It helps that I mostly keep my mouth shut.” Sirion can’t help breathing out a laugh at that, shaking his head. Like many, his first impression of Callebero had been a silent one—and at the time, Sirion had read that as cool haughtiness much as many visitors did. Laying such an image over the Callebero he now knows seems laughable, but he knows he’s one of only a few who can claim such familiarity. Under his arm, Callebero’s belly tenses with a quiet laugh. He prods Sirion in the ribs. “It worked on you, after all,” he teases. Mikolan’s incessant teasing rises to Sirion’s mind, and he shakes his head. Callebero grins. “You thought I was a brat,” he says, unreasonably gleeful. “I”—Sirion starts and then stops short, because that is true—“changed my mind.” Callebero snorts, graceless, and wriggles out from Sirion just enough to smother the candle on the side table. With only the moonlight left spilling blue through the cracks in the shutters, the room is ink-dark and it takes a few moments for his eyes to adjust. “It took me kicking your ass to change your mind,” Callebero retorts. “It was a draw,” Sirion signs. “I laid you out, love.” There’s laughter in Callebero’s voice as he speaks, and Sirion finds amusement battling down the old wound to his pride. He can still picture the staff end hovering right before his nose, Callebero’s careless, bright grin on the other end. He hadn’t fallen in love in that moment, but it had been a shift—a sudden, bracing change like dunking into cold water on a summer day. “You had the element of surprise,” he still insists. “Mm,” Callebero hums doubtfully. “I could still take you.” Narrowing his eyes, Sirion squints at him in the darkness. It’s absurd. They’re both grown men with more accolades than most families have in three generations. They’ve each emerged from three wars and a coup with honors and scars to prove their valor. There is no reason to quibble over an old sparring match. “Could not,” he signs anyway. Callebero’s laughter is more of a hot brush of air against Sirion’s skin than a sound, and he squeezes him once. “I suppose we’re due for a rematch then,” he says, the words briefly warped around a yawn. “Ah maybe next week?” Sirion hums and drops his head to Callebero’s shoulder, hooking his ankle around his calf. “For your birthday,” he signs, and Callebero laughs. Jisel catches on quickly, of course. On the third day of Regent Batu’s visit, they duck away with a pot of tea in the far corner of the library where only Callebero ever thinks to look. If anyone asks, they aren’t hiding. It’s simply a convenient location to get some work done while the visiting gentry fill the palace with gossip and traveling parties and more gifts than any single person has ever needed. For the most part, Sirion looks on all the pomp and frivolity with amusement. All these rich nobles falling over themselves to litter Callebero with gilt and gems as if they could win his favor with enough gold. And, selfishly, part of Sirion likes that none of their piled gifts will never match what Callebero actually wants. A toothed satisfaction runs through him at the futility of their sycophancy. “If Jemma catches you gawking at his hair one more time, I think she might combust,” Jisel remarks. Rolling his eyes, Sirion glances up from the report he’s been reading to shoot her a glare. Over the last year and a half, it has become apparent that Jemma doesn’t quite know how to handle he and Callebero being partners and seems stuck vacillating between threatening Sirion should he ever hurt Callebero and lecturing Callebero on valuing Sirion enough. Hayalen has spent most of it laughing at both her wife and the two of them. “I do not gawk,” Sirion retorts now. Jisel raises her eyebrows, hiding her smile behind her teacup, and he can feel heat suffusing his cheeks. Huffing out a breath, he leans back in his chair. “It’s not”—he stops, pressing his lips into a seam in frustration before sighing—“I’m just not used to it.” Humming faintly, Jisel lowers her cup to cradle between her hands and runs a fingertip back and forth over the lip. “I did the same when Kieran came back from Jimar,” she admits. “It took a while, and I hardly noticed at first but then…” She pauses, looking away. A pang squeezes Sirion’s heart. He doesn’t know exactly how she and the younger Aquios’ relationship fell apart, and they’ve seemed to be on polite enough terms now—but it still feels shocking and somehow wrong that they should have ended at all. “It’s comforting,” she says finally, turning back to him with a little smile, “to know that he’s not planning to rush headlong into danger again.” Oh. Sirion blinks, startled by that analysis. He’s hardly thought of it in such serious terms; when he’s pondered his sudden fixation on Callebero’s hair it’s been more in curiosity and bafflement. Footsteps sound behind them, and Sirion twists around. Callebero’s eyebrows arch up as he nears, unimpressed, and Sirion grins back at him. “Traitors,” Callebero announces. “We only wanted to give our imperator princep space to celebrate with his courtiers,” Jisel replies, sweet as honey. Huffing out a breath, Callebero drops down into the chair beside Sirion. “Your imperator princep would rather shovel out all the horse stalls in the capital,” he retorts. He kicks lightly at Sirion’s ankle, glancing over to grin at Sirion as if Sirion weren’t already looking at him. Shaking his head, Sirion reaches over to pull him in for a brief kiss. He comes willingly, smiling against his lips, and across the table, Jisel snorts. “Shameless,” she singsongs. Callebero laughs, a warm breath of air against Sirion’s lips, and then he pulls back to grin at her. He’s still leaned close enough that Sirion could run a hand through his hair if it weren’t so neatly pinned up. “I remember someone telling me that Aeridians are all too repressed and that’s why we spend so much time polishing our swords,” he says. Pausing, Jisel narrows her eyes and searches his face like she can’t tell if he’s joking or not. After a moment, she scowls and leans back. “You can’t use the things I’ve said while drunk against me,” she says. “And I stand by it anyway.” Shaking his head, Callebero snorts out a laugh. The motion makes his earrings jingle, ringing together like little chimes. When they turn in for the evening, he’ll grumble about all the layers and seriously contemplate going to bed with each of the dangling piercings still in, and Sirion will nudge him into sitting still long enough to let him take them out and loosen his hair from its severe styling. He can nearly feel the memory of it, the body-warm metal and the cool brush of hair, already lingering in his fingertips. “Since neither of you drink properly, it’s only fair,” Jisel says with a careless shrug. “That is for the sake of the nation’s dignity,” Callebero rejoins. Sirion snorts. “Where would we be if everyone knew the fearsome Black Prince fell asleep after one cup?” he teases. That earns him a short glare and a flick in his shoulder, but he captures Callebero’s hand to tangle their fingers together, which earns him a smile and a net win. Sitting back in his chair, Callebero rolls his shoulders and finally starts to relax. “Jar,” Callebero corrects loftily, and Jisel snorts. “Half,” Jisel rejoins. Stifling a grin, Sirion settles in to let them bicker it out. He’s never seen Callebero drunk, only warm and loose with wine and contentment. His only part in the quibbling is to tease both of them wherever possible. A few strands of Callebero’s hair have slipped loose from the braids and bun, sliding down in a loose loop. Humming softly, Sirion reaches out to tuck them behind his ear. His hand lingers, brushing gently through his hair. Callebero turns slightly, just enough for Sirion to catch the smile on his lips. It softens, warms, and Sirion finds himself mirroring him, helpless. Across the table, Jisel snorts at both of them, and Sirion’s smile broadens into a grin.

[marauder-exe]

Jacket- Sirius Black x Reader

Request: hey there! can i get one with prompts 79, 174 and 175, with Sirius, please? thank you!

Prompts: 79. No its just… I cant believe your wearing my clothes”

174. “Did you see what she was wearing?”

175. “So what if I had sex with your ex?”

Word Count: 1.4k

You stared in the mirror at your outfit, it needed something. It was a Saturday morning, and it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so you wanted to look good. You either hung out with Lily or the boys during Hogsmede weekends, but that didn't mean you couldn't look nice. Lily always mentioned you subconsciously wanted to look nice for Sirius, but you never believed her, she was convinced you where head over heels for him, but you didn't think so. Sure you felt something for Sirius, but didn't everyone? He was Sirius Black.

You stared in the mirror, pondering what else you needed to complete the look. A jacket! You rushed to your trunk, rummaging around to find a cute jacket, but none of them really matched the vibe you where going for. Maybe a leather jacket would suit more? You rummaged around in Lily's trunk, sure she wouldn't mind, she was already down in the great hall anyway. Of course she didn't have one. Sirius does though. You gave a sly smile and rushed to the boys dorm They had always said you could use their dorm whenever, maybe that extends to clothes? You opened the door and looked around, nobody was in there, they where probably all at breakfast. Sirius’ jacket was slung on the back of the chair. You stared at it, it was black leather, with the words ‘rebellion’ and ‘S.B’ painted on with a Gryffindor crest on it. Everyone would be able to tell it was Sirius’. Ah well. You slowly slipped the jacket around your frame, basking in Sirius’ scent and the feel of it. Right, getting a bit creepy, (Y/N). You didn't like him, you couldn't. Shaking the thoughts away, you wondered down to breakfast.

You pushed open the great hall, some 5th years at the end of the table looked at you. You skipped down the long table passing the Marauders on the way.

“Hi, boys.” You giggled quickly walking past to sit near Lily and the girls. James nudged Sirius.

“Do you see what she's wearing mate?” Sirius looked towards you at his friends words, and felt the wind get knocked out of him. You where skipping down the table in his Leather jacket. And you looked absolutely breathtaking. Sirius felt like he was in a trance, until he heard his best mate shout towards you.

“Oi, (Y/L/N) looking absolutely astonishing in Padfoots jacket” He threw his head back in laughter as she gave a twirl.

“Thanks Potter” She cited, sitting down at the table with Lily, Marlene and Mary. You smiled as you sat down, getting into conversation, missing Marlene's glare.

During the boys conversations, where some very hushed questions directed towards Sirius, like if he knew why she was wearing his jacket, or if he was bothered? Both being answered with a ‘no’, the latter being joined with a faint blush on his cheeks. Their conversations where cut short though, when they heard the clatter of plates a little ways down the table. They all looked towards that direction, where You and Marlene where both stood, holding each others glare. They where honestly so confused about what had gone on during the few minutes they where talking. Then you came out with your next line, which shocked a lot of people.

“So what if I had sex with your ex?” You questioned loudly, cocking your eyebrows. The ex you where alluding to being Sirius. He and Marlene had a fling a few weeks ago, it obviously meant more to her than him, Sirius claimed she was just a distraction, but she liked him a lot. Sirius felt Remus jab his below into his ribs. Sirius mouthed an ‘Ow!’ obviously not wanting to disrupt the tense scene that was going on. Remus rolled his eyes and mouthed, ‘Did you sleep with her?’

Now it was Padfoots turn to roll his eyes, but he blushed nonetheless. ‘No of course not’

“Yeah he wishes” Peter whispered and Sirius scowled turning back tot he scene.

“It sure looks like it” She gestured to your outfit.

“Awe don't be sad, wittle Marley, just because he didn't want you” You laughed. You where usually very kind, but when someone got on your bad side, you could be a stone cold bitch. Its a surprise you weren't in Slytherin to be honest.

“And you can bet you ass he wants me now” You smirked, you knew he didn't like you like that, but it felt right to say.

“Not wrong on that one” Remus muttered laughing, causing Sirius to whack him lightly. They both turned just in time to see Marlene throw pumpkin juice all over you. You stood there, mildly shocked, but impressed she had the balls to do that. The entire Gryffindor table where slack jawed, as Remus and James where just smirking at the scene. Sirius was panicked as hell though. Did you know he liked you? You picked up a jar of Ketchup slyly, knowing Marlene couldn't see you, but Sirius caught it.

“Yaknow, Marlene, I wouldn't ever want to mess up that pretty fake blonde hair of yours” You laughed as you picked up the ketchup bottle, just as Sirius dashed toward you, grabbing you around the waist, hauling you in the air, just as you squirted the entire bottle of Ketchup at Marlene's face.

“You bitch!” The entire great hall burst out in a chorus of ‘oooh’s and laughter. You laughed as you struggled against Sirius grip as he dragged you out the hall. He dragged you all the way to the Gryffindor common room, you still struggling against him.

“Sirius! Why did you drag me out of there I was winning?” You laughed after he placed you on the couch but he was not laughing.

“(Y/N). You've just lost your friendship with Marlene, and potentially just sacrificed your friendship with Lily and Mary.” He lectured. Then it all came flooding in, the regret, the anger. “Why, in Godric Gryffindors name, did you do that?” He seemed really angered by your actions. You threw your head into your hands.

“You wouldn't get it Pads.” You whined.

“Oh yeah, what's so possibly bad that it warranted staining a girl, apparently fake blonde hair, news to me by the way, red with ketchup” You tried to hide your giggle at his comment, and kept your solemn face.

“You should've heard what she was saying about you Sirius, it was all ‘he’s this, he's that’ And then! She insinuated I slept with you, for my own personal gain, not because I liked you, not because Im in love with you, she thought I did it for bragging rights! Which is absolutely ridiculous by the way. Anyone who uses someone for bragging rights is absolutely disgusting, especially if they use you. So no, her insulting me wasn't enough to warrant ketchup hair, but insulting you was!” You breathed deeply, finally finishing your rant. You gaped at you.

“What?” you questioned upon seeing his incredulous face.

“You said you loved me” You where stunned. Did that accidentally slip out?

“What? I did not!” You insisted.

“Oh yes! You did!” Sirius smirked, moving closer to you.

“Did not! Did not!” You knew you where done for now, he began running after you as you dashed away from him laughing.

“Yes you did! Come here” He was running after you, all around the common room as you giggled your heart out. He finally caught you, pushing you onto the common room couch. You stared into each others eyes, it was like something out of a movie.

“Im sorry your jackets covered in pumpkin juice” You whispered, still holding your gaze.

“Its fine, I just cant believe your actually wearing my clothes”.

You giggled in response, muttering a silent apology.

“plus I like the taste of pumpkin juice” He smirked, slowly leaning in. Obviously you didn't get the memo, as your response was…

“Taste? What do you mean taste, do you eat your-” but your words where soon cut off by Sirius’ deep voice.

“Shut up and kiss me” He grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips moulded together perfectly, and its all you could have ever wanted. You broke apart, breathing shallow and foreheads pressed against each others.

“I love you too, by the way” He breathed and chuckled.

“I gathered” You giggled.

“Be mine?”

“Wouldn't want it any other way” And you sealed the relationship with a kiss.

[legendofzelda4life]

Cake and Tears

Hello everybody, this was meant to be for yesterday (day seven).

It’s been a whole week. I hope you guys have enjoyed and will continue to.

Anyway this is a Blue/Red fluff (obvi platonic) I haven’t read the whole Four Swords manga but I have this feeling that Blue would be protective of Red.

Let’s go.

Also TW: mentions of r*pe (ik im an asshole for this plot)

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

“I swear to Din Vio, shut the fuck up.” Blue said to the calmest of the four versions of Link.

“Why should I? You suck at this.” Vio spoke, watching Blue. “I will not hesitate to kill you, V.”

Blue was holding the knife he was using to cut, yet another, failed attempt of a cake, to Vio’s chest.

“If Vio dies, we all die.” Green said from his seat on the bench.

“Works for me, means I won’t have to see you guys everyday.” Blue looked towards the green clad hero. “And will you please... get the fuck off my bench.” He shoved Green off the bench as he spoke. “You’re an idiot-” 

Vio was cut off by Blue putting the knife back to his chest.

“Fine, kill me, but don’t come crying when you never get to see Red again.” Vio said. Blue’s eyes widened and the knife clattered to the ground. He then crossed his arms with a huff. “I wouldn’t care.” He said.

Lie.

“We know you like Red the most out of the three of us.” Vio said.

“Tch. I do not.”

Lie.

“Oh so you hate him then?” “Yes Vio, I despise him with every part of my being.” Blue laced his words with sarcasm.

“Mhm… turn around.” Vio said with a smirk, causing Blue to turn wearily, scared that Red was there. Instead, he was met with Green holding a perfectly made cake.

“Man! Fuck you for being able to cook.” Blue said with a laugh, taking the cake as it was shoved into his hands. “Yeah, yeah. Now go cheer up Red.” Green said.

“Do I have to?” He whined. If he was being completely honest, which he hated doing by the way, he’d tell them he loved making Red happy.

But that would ruin his reputation.

“YES!!!” Woah, a response from both of them.

Scary.

“Why?” He asked.

“You’re the only one that can cheer up Red when he’s like this.” Vio said, shoving a drink into Blue’s arms before pushing him out the kitchen.

Blue walked down the hall towards Red’s room, beginning to ponder. If he loves Red’s personality, is this self love? Or friendship? Blue ran out of time to think as he arrived in front of Red’s door.

“Red?” He called for the hero.

“Mmmmmmm.” Red groaned from inside the room. No, not one of those groans, you perverts. It was the ‘bitch-I-just-woke-up-fuck-you-want?’ groans.

“Can I come in?” “Yeah.” Red’s voice was hoarse. How much had he been crying?

Blue opened the door and walked in. Red was on his stomach but was facing the door.

“I brought cake?” Blue was so weary, the statement sounded more like a question. “Put it down and get out.” Red rolled over.

“Wow okay, I understand I was pulling Green’s voice but I really thought the tunic would give it away.” Blue said. Upon hearing his voice, Red sat up. “Cuddles?” He asked, reaching his arms out. Blue chuckled. It was quite adorable when Red was like this. He had always acted younger than the other three heroes but it was cute sometimes.

“Of course.”

Red excitedly moved over and patted a spot on the bed, where Blue layed with a chuckle. Red immediately cuddled into Blue, wrapping his arms around the others waist. “Wanna talk about it?” Blue asked. Red shook his head.

“I just want cuddles. Just let me stay like this for a while. Blue nodded silently before hugging Red back. They must’ve sat there for hours, even laying down at one point.

Suddenly Red shot up, looking around frantically, before pulling his knees to his chest and crying.

“Red?” Blue asked, reaching out for the other hero. He flinched slightly. “Sorry, sorry. It’s fine. I shouldn’t be crying. Go back to sleep” Red rubbed his face with one hand, removing his tears as he layed back down. What caused this? How often did it happen?

Was it every night?

Blue didn’t know. But what he did know was that, if Red putting his face into Blue’s chest and hugging him was anything to go off, he was really upset.

“What happened?” Blue himself didn’t even know what he was asking about. Was it about why Red was sad? Or was it about the dream?

“What?” Red asked. (this is where it reloaded the first time)

“What made you upset?” Blue asked, rubbing circles on the red-clad hero’s back. Red tensed up and Blue could basically feel the boy’s blood run cold. “You don’t have to tell me.” He blurted out quickly. “No, it’s okay.” Red took a deep breath in. “Remember that guy I was dating?” Blue nodded in response. He didn’t know too much about the guy, except the moment everyone layed eyes on him…

Blue and Vio did not like him.

Well, in Blue’s case, that’s underestimating it.

Blue hated - absolutely despised - the guy Red was with.

Vio thought it would have bad consequences once they go back together as Link but Blue just hated him. (i cant think of what to name him lmao)

“H-he- he…” Red’s voice became small. “He... did stuff to me Blue.” His voice rose back to it’s normal tone after this. “I didn’t want it. But afterwards, he left without a word.” Red broke down again. 

Red was…

No, Blue didn’t want to believe it…

He couldn’t believe it…

How did Blue let this happen to one of his counterparts?

Let alone his favourite?

At this point, Blue had no doubt he was radiating heat considering how much that made his blood boil. He didn’t say anything, scared he would upset Red further, and just let the other boy cry into his chest.

“You wanna talk to Green or Vio?” Blue asked. Red shook his head. “They’ll be mad at me. I knew you and Vio didn’t like him but this? This would disappoint Green too.” Red hugged Blue tighter. “How did I let this happen, Blue? It’s my fault isn’t it? I never wanted it so he just did it...” Red trailed off, eyes full of terror as he recounted whatever events may have occurred.

Seeing that look on his face caused Blue to snap.

“None of this is your fault! He was an asshole that took advantage of you and I’m about this close to beating the absolute shit out of him!” Blue roared, jumping to his feet. “Your fingers are touching…” Red said, realization dawning upon him. “Exactly.” “Blue, no.” The boy wanted to argue but if Red said no, Red means no.

And unlike someone… Blue respected that.

“Okay.” He sat back on the bed, Red sitting next to him.

“What about the dream?” Blue asked. Red became extremely quiet. Blue turned to see the boy with tears running down his face, huddling further into Blue’s side. “You don’t have to-”

“Promise you won’t ever leave, Blue. Promise me!” Blue was surprised by Red’s words. Was the dream really that bad? “I promise I won’t leave you.” He said, looking the other hero in the eyes. “Good.”

Red fell asleep soon after but Blue couldn’t even close his eyes.

Blue had a plan but wanted to wait for Red to be okay with it first

Green walked in the room slowly.

“How is he?” He signed, wanting to be quiet. Blue put his hand sideways and made an ‘eh’ motion. Green just nodded slightly before walking back out.

A few days later

“You still wanna beat the shit outta him?” Red asked. The boy’s mood had brightened little by little over the past few days. He had decided to tell Vio and Green, with Blue’s help of course.

“Yes, but I wanna be the only one.” He looked to Green and Vio who didn’t object. Was his protectiveness of Red really that obvious? Probably. Did he care? No.

Blue stormed into the guy’s house.

“Oh hey Blue, where’s your brother?” Blue had actually forgotten they introduced themselves as siblings. “Not here.” Blue snarled. “Oh what a shame, it’s so cute when he begs for me to stop. Y’know-”

Yeah, Blue just punched this guy in the face.

“Stop. Fucking. Saying. Shit. About. Red. You. Fucking. Asshole.” With each word, there was a punch. Blue was holding the boy by the collar and was relentlessly bashing his face in. He then threw the guy at a wall, a sickening crack emitting from his, already broken, nose.

Blue then got on the ground next to him and kept throwing hits.

“You fucking piece of shit! What the fuck gave you the right to do that to Red, huh?!?!” He was fired up. Given, the guy probably couldn’t respond, but Blue was venting.

He was continuously punching the guy over and over, rebreaking already broken bones from the first few hits. The guy ended up with a shattered cheekbone, the other one also broken, an unhinged jaw, a broken nose, a black eye in the first stages of forming, a few missing teeth, and, no doubt, more than two broken ribs.

Blue dropped him to the floor.

“Fuck you.” He seethed through his teeth before walking out.

Let’s just say, nobody asked why Blue was covered in blood that, obviously, wasn’t his.

END

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

This was a rollercoaster of emotions for me to write lol. I’m sorry if this triggered anyone in anyway. 

I hope you guys at least enjoyed Blue beating the shit out of the fuckboy lmao.

LEAVE REQUESTS BELOW!

REQUESTS MUST INCLUDE: PAIRING TYPE/GENRE/CATEGORY (fluff, angst, etc) PLATONIC OR NOT

I WILL WRITE ONLY ABOUT THE LINKS (including the ravio, shadow, and requested characters. Will not write about whole other fandoms though)

I CAN DO READER INSERTS IF REQUESTED (no oc’s tho)

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 42

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.4k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: i hope you enjoy this! i really hope its worth a read! please send me requests for the few chapters left. i have the last chapters totally planned and they cant really be changed, but i can add a few things in them. as for the next few chapters, just send me anything you want for them!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! :  i changed it a bit i hope its ok! i used an other request for the chapter but it was part of many requests in the same ask so im not adding it in case i use the rest too. basically, it says “Louis being upset at losing his roommate”

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 42 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

May 21st, 2018

I was happy that Dylan hadn't asked Heidi to be there the next day since we were about to film the scene I feared the most. Niall had a few things to do but he told me he'd join me a bit later on the set. If I wanted to be honest, though, I was sort of happy he was not there, if only because this scene was going to be tough to play and knowing he would be there when I was filming it would make me even more nervous.

I jumped slightly when someone knocked at the door and walked to it with a frown. I had decided to eat in my dressing room if only to be alone and try to get back in those horrible feelings I had when Niall broke up with me. I remembered the rain, I remembered running away, I remembered the way he was looking at me and the way my heart twisted in my chest, feeling like it was stuck in a vice. I remembered the tattoo I had just got of a heart around his name, on the skin of my back, and how much it seemed to burn. I remembered running to Louis and crying with him. I remembered everything of that night. It was so vivid I felt like I would never forget. I knew this memory would never be blurry, I knew I'd remember every fucking second of it for the rest of my life.

When I opened the door, Dylan looked up, and my heart skipped a beat when I realized how vulnerable he looked with his sad eyes and his hands in his pockets. I was used to the confident and funny man who had been my rock for so many months. Now he looked exhausted and hurt.

"Can I come in?"

I nodded and licked my lips, moving away to let him in and I closed the door as he turned around to face me. We remained in front of each other just staring in each other's eyes until I moved my arm to show him the couch.

"Please, sit."

We kept silent for a few more minutes after sitting down and all I could hear was my heart thumping against my rib cage. I didn't know why he was there and I didn't want this conversation to turn bad. I knew what kind of person he was though and I knew it would most likely not end up in screams and insults, but he was with Heidi now, and I knew what she was capable of.

"I'm sorry, Olivia." he finally let out with a sigh before rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry for bringing Heidi here yesterday. I mean, I didn't even invite her she sort of... invited herself. But that's not the point, I mean I knew how you felt about her and I promise I didn't do that to piss you off, or make you uncomfortable."

My lips parted and after a while, they curled slightly. "I know, don't worry about it." I just shook my head a bit. "But Dylan, are you serious? I mean Heidi? Really?"

"Does it bother you?" he asked with a sad smile as he looked up.

"No, it doesn't. You can date whoever you want it's just... I'm surprised. After all you said about her... After all we said about her." I corrected myself. "Just be careful okay?"

"Liv," he chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "I'm not gonna marry her. She just... eases the pain, I guess. Some sort of a rebound."

"Basically, you two fuck."

This time, he laughed and leaned against the couch. "Pretty much." he shrugged and put his gaze into mine, his smile faltering a bit. "She's no you, but she's not bad looking when naked."

This time, I let out a loud laughter that made him smile more. "As long as she keeps her mouth shut, maybe!"

"Yea, that doesn't happen often, unfortunately."

I laughed again and rolled my eyes before tilting my head and pressing my lips together, staring at him some more. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Dylan."

"No, I'm sorry." he lost his smile and closed his eyes for a few seconds before moving closer and leaning his elbows on his knees. I frowned, a bit stressed about why he was acting like that but when he sighed again, I held my breath. "I'm the one who told her. About you and Niall. I told her you cheated on me and that I said it was okay, and she asked when it was and she just.. connected the dots. It's my fault she made that instagram shit. I hope you can forgive me."

I swallowed hard still looking at him. I couldn't really blame him and I was a bit surprised that I didn't think that he could be the one who told her, especially after seeing them together a few days before. It was so obvious now and I mentally slapped myself for being an idiot.

"Done." I just replied with a small smile. "Anything else I can help with? World Peace? Starvation in third world nations? Anything?"

He laughed and sent me a small smile as I became more serious. I didn't want us to be on bad terms and yes, it felt weird to think that only a few weeks ago, we were supposed to get married, but we both needed to move on from that.

"Heidi and I we just... bonded over the fact that we felt betrayed, and we were sad and hurt, you know? We won't spend our lives together. I don't have feelings for her I'm just.. trying to move on."

I stared at him again, keeping quiet for a few minutes, not wanting to say something wrong. We had had good moments together, and I couldn't pretend I didn't miss him but at the same time, I didn't miss the love relationship we had. I was with Niall and no one else made me feel like he did. No one else ever did make me feel like Niall did, not even Dylan, whom I was ready to marry.

"I really hope it works, Dyl." I sent him a fond smile, tilting my head. "You deserve the best."

                                                      ----

May 22nd, 2018

What woke me up in the middle of my nap in the afternoon was a soft piano melody and before my eyes even opened, my lips curled into a fond smile. I put my pants on and got out of bed, following the music and yawning a bit on my way as I tugged at my hair. When I entered the living room, Niall looked up and sent me a smile as he kept playing and finally licked his lips, taking his hand away from the keys and raised his eyebrows.

"How did sleeping beauty sleep?"

"I don't know about her," I started with an other yawn. "but I slept very well, thank you."

"I was talking about you, silly!" he chuckled. "You sleep all the time, and you're beautiful. This is now officially my new nickname for you."

I raised my eyebrows and my lips parted as he laughed. "If you call me that, I'll start calling you Neil."

I smiled when I saw him grimace and finally sat next to him on the small bench, facing the piano. I've always wanted to play and at the same time, i loved watching Niall play. If only I could be as talented as he was in something... anything, really.

"You're so damn good, I swear, I'm jealous."

"My piano skills are pretty basic."

"Lies!" I quickly replied, turning my head to look at him and raising my eyebrows. "You always say that and we both know it's bullshit." I turned back to the piano and placed my hands on the keys as if I knew what I was doing. "Here's a little something I can play for you.”

I let an amused smile appear on my lips and finally used just two fingers to play a short song on the piano, missing one or two notes as I did. When I turned back to him, he was smiling big, trying not to laugh.

"Is that 'Take Me Out To The Ball Game'?" he asked, unable to stop a chuckle from escaping his mouth. "Played with literally two fingers?"

"Don't laugh! I taught myself that."

He started laughing anyway and I raised my nose up, pushing his upper arm with mine and making him laugh even more. He smelled good and he looked gorgeous. I was trying not to think about the fact that he was leaving in a few days and when I looked up at him, he licked his lips.

"Do you want me to teach you?"

My lips curled into a happy smile but I tried to hide it by pressing them together before nodding. He chuckled and proceeded to take my hands and placed them over the keys. I tried to listen to his instructions but my mind drifted away after a while as I looked at his fingers slide gently on the keys for a while before my eyes moved on his arm and up to his chest and his face. I stared at his lips moving for a few seconds before blinking a few times as I tried to get out of my thoughts.

"Are you sleeping again?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a smile.

"No... no I just..." I shook my head and chuckled. "Play that song. The one you had in hands in my dressing room. You said you needed a piano well there's one. I want to hear you sing."

"I was teaching you how to play darling." he pointed out, making me tilt my head.

"Play Niall, please."

He stared at me and I felt my heartbeats accelerate. I couldn't believe I was here with him and that he was looking at me like that. After a while, he just nodded and licked his lips before his fingers glided on the keys again.

"Maybe we are the champagne lovers Lay in the dark, we are stargazing now Well, I don’t like it.

Rolling the dice just to feel the thunder Deep in the heart of a downward spiral Falling, we’re falling.

We should twist the knife Put it all to bed, I Need to understand what it takes to love again

So come on love me when the lights burn low Meet me underneath the sheets Cause you got a hold of me baby, enough to pull me back in deep.

You used to love me when the lights burned low Now we’re tearing at the seams We‘ve both had enough of this, baby, so promise me that when you leave You won’t say you’ll come back to me.

Maybe we are the perfect strangers Only the stories left on paper now And I don’t like it.

We should twist the knife Put it all to bed, I Need to understand what it takes to love again

So come on love me when the lights burn low Meet me underneath the sheets Cause you got a hold of me baby, enough to pull me back in deep.

You used to love me when the lights burned low Now we’re tearing at the seams We‘ve both had enough of this, baby, so promise me that when you leave You won’t say you’ll come back to me.

Come back to me You won’t say you’ll come back to me."

I felt a tear roll down my cheek and swallowed the lump in my throat with difficulty. Silent came back in the room and slowly, I brought one of my hands to his cheek, brushing my thumb on it gently. I loved how some of the lyrics really fitted us, and I couldn't explain how perfect it was. He knew how to add things in songs that were only obvious to us two, and I needed to learn how to do that, because when it came to writing my tv show, I knew it was more and more obvious with time that it was based on my story with Niall.

"Those lyrics about the sheets..." I just whispered before licking my lips and sniffing.

"We've been hiding under the sheets since we were kids." he explained even if I already knew what it meant. "Just you and me, in our world. And now I realize that it was our world because you're my world."

I started seeing blurry because of the tears in my eyes and blinked again to let them slide down my cheeks. He brought his hand over mine on his face but his eyes never left mine.

"You're so full of shit, Horan." I just replied in a whisper with a small chuckle.

"I mean it." he quickly murmured before I pressed my lips against his.

He kissed me back deeply and his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His lips parted against mine and he panted, making me whimper low. I let my hands slip under his shirt and I thought he was going to laugh at how impatient I was but instead, he moved slightly away, his lips still against mine.

"I'm gonna fucking miss you."

"How many times are we gonna tell that to each other." I whispered back, sliding my hands up his chest.,

He pulled away a bit to stare in my eyes and something twisted inside me. "I don't know, petal. Now too often I hope."

I pulled his shirt off and let it fall on the floor and I kept my lips pressed against his as he got up slowly, grabbing the hem of my shirt and taking it off too. He turned me around slightly, both his hands on my waist and when he kissed me harder, I leaned against the piano without thinking, hitting a few keys and making an horrible sound. We laughed against each other's mouths and I felt him pull my pants down, along with my panties. I wiggled slightly to take them off and pushed them away from us as I moved a bit and hit a few keys again but higher notes this time.

"Clumsy ass." he whispered with a chuckle.

"Hey it's your fault." I argued in a low tone before smiling wide.

I reached for his pants and unzipped them and when he took a step back, my eyes fluttered as I started at him. He took his pants off and when he pulled his boxers down, my lips parted slightly. I watched him sit back on the bench as I stood between him and the piano and he brought his hand to his dick, stroking it slowly. I ran my hand to my breasts as I stared at him and felt my heart jump in my chest at the sight.

He brought his free hand between my thighs and I propped one of my feet on the bench next to him before two of his fingers ran on my slit. He was staring at what he was doing and I let out a low whimper as his thumb found my clit. I was already turned on but feeling him touching me while looking at him touch himself was amazing and I licked my lips, moaning slightly louder.

"I just want to sit on your cock."

He let go of me but I noticed his fingers pressed harder around his cock as he looked up at me and it only took him a few seconds to make a quick head movement.

"Turn around and sit on me."

I felt my heart jump again and slowly did what I asked. I felt him spank me once as I held myself on the piano to sit slowly on him. His hand reached my right side as his left hand positioned his dick and I closed my eyes as I felt it slowly get deeper inside me until I was sitting completely on him.

"Fuck, bend down a bit."

I did as he asked, holding myself on the piano again and making an other unpleasant noise as I hit different keys. This time though, he didn't laugh. He ran his hands on my back, pushing on it gently again and he finally held my waist to help me move up and down on his cock very slowly, watching it slip almost completely out of me and then back inside me as I sat back on him a few times until he was balls deep.

"I fucking love watching my cock disappear in that pretty little cunt of yours." he admitted in a low tone before groaning low. "Fuck me, petal. Harder."

I started going harder as he asked and I tried to grip the piano with my fingers to get balance, my fingers making an annoying sound as they slid on it. My lips parted and I held my breath when I felt him push his thumb in my asshole and I let out a curse word, my movements faltering a bit.

"Don't you fucking stop." he just let out, spanking me with his free hand. "Nothing I want more than to cum deep inside you, pet. I want to feel you clench around me. Fuck, you're such a perfect little cumdump."

I held my breath at his words, feeling my whole body throb at the way he dirty talked to me, a bit surprised but aroused by his words. I was thinking about touching myself when I felt his arm slither around me to reach between my legs as the thumb of his other hand was still fucking my ass.

"You're gonna cum so hard, yea?" he asked, rubbing my clit and making me clench around him in motion. "All over my cock?"

I felt my eyes flutter and my head fell back slightly as I started shaking over him. He brought his arm around me to hold me against him as he kept rubbing my clit hard and fast and when I started cumming, he pushed me up slightly and started moving his hips up against me to reach an orgasm too. He only kept his tip inside me as he came and his fingers sank on both sides of my waist as he groaned loud.

"Fuck."

One of my hands fell on the keys again and I shut my eyes tighter as I got down from my high slowly. I felt one of his hands carress my back and he tapped my butt gently to incite me to get up, I felt his cum fall and when I turned around, some of it slid on my thighs while I bit my bottom lip, looking at his cum mixed with mine on his thighs.

It took him a few seconds to get up and he bent his head down to reach my lips with his. I heard the few notes from the piano as he kissed me and I chuckled against his mouth, making him smile.

"Loved it." he let out low with a smirk. "We literally just composed the best song ever together.”

I laughed and shook my head a bit, my lips brushing against his. "Yea, I don't think it's gonna be a hit." I admitted with an other laugh.

He laughed too and started kissing me slowly but deeply again until we heard the doorbell and both jumped. We both smiled and chuckled at the same time before the bell rang again and someone starting hitting the door quite roughly. I quickly rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who it was. and Niall frowned at me until we heard the voice.

"OLIVIA! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" he yelled, making me laugh and roll my eyes. "PUT YOUR PANTS BACK ON AND COME OPEN THE DOOR!"

"Why does he always get here when we're naked?" Niall asked, making me laugh.

"Hey, it's Louis, I expect nothing less." I pointed out as I was putting my pants back. "I'll go see what he wants, you get dressed."

I put my shirt on as I walked to the front door before swinging it open and sending a big smile to my best friend. He opened his arms wide and it took me only half a second before throwing myself at him. He held me close and I buried my face in his neck as I felt his head lean gently against the side of mine.

"So glad to see you, my queen. I missed you." his voice was low and his words seemed sincere. I could hear emotions in his tone and it made me smile as I gripped the back of his shirt tightly.

"It's been weeks." I just let out, making him squeeze me tighter against him.

"Who's fault?"

"Mine." I confessed in a murmur. "I'm sorry it's just... Niall..."

"Yea I know, I was the same the first few months I was back with El."

We remained silent for a few seconds but when I felt Niall's presence close to us, I felt something melt inside me, like him being close made me emotional.

"Okay Tommo, let go of my girlfriend now."

I chuckled and pulled away, my lips curling more when my eyes met Louis'.

"Oh yea, I saw the video at the airport," Louis laughed, nodding. "Told you it was just a matter of time, right Neil?"

"Right."

My boyfriend groaned but didn't add anything and I moved to let Louis walk in and close the door behind himself. He was so close to me I felt his body heat emanate from him. Niall wrapped his arms around me from behind and I felt him lean his chin on my shoulder. Instinctively, I leaned my head against him and it made Louis roll his eyes with a laugh.

"Alright, double date tonight, we're going to eat, and maybe a movie or something." Louis let out quickly. "Non-negotiable, be ready in two hours, I drive."

He winked at me before turning around and opening the door he had barely just closed and walking quickly to his car. Niall and I both watched him start the car and drive aaway and after a while, I chuckled low and shook my head.

"He's so annoying." Niall admitted, mumbling under his breath.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

Niall seemed to think for a few seconds and finally raised his eyebrows with an amused smile. "Okay, but you wear a skirt."

I rolled my eyes and laughed again, just shrugging. "Deal."

                                               ---

The restaurant was crowded and suddenly, I was scared people would take pictures and videos. I tried to push that thought away and tell myself it didn't matter but at the same time, I knew Niall liked to keep most things private so I tried not to touch him too much. I felt his hand on my naked thigh and smiled, pressing my lips together as I tried to ignore it.

"What are you wearing exactly?" Louis asked with a frown, leaning a bit against the table. "Is that a necklace with my friend Neil's face on it? How old was he back then? 12?"

"Funny." Niall let out sarcastically. "It's a gift from a fan and she won't take it off."

"That's a proof of love, Niall. Embrace it."

Eleanor rolled her eyes with a chuckle and I just laughed a bit. I looked at them and lost my smile suddenly. They were such a perfect and beautiful couple and it was a shame it had just hit me. I started wondering what people thought of the couple I made with Niall and I felt a bit nervous.

"We haven't done that in a while." Eleanor pointed out, taking a sip of her wine. "I know you've both been busy though. How's tour going? Not too hard being away from each other?"

"It's..." Niall started shaking his head.

"Hell." I finished his sentence. 

He turned his head to look at me before nodding slowly. "Exactly. But we manage."

And we did. It was not easy but we loved each other enough to actually want this to work and we both put effort into it. I knew Niall wouldn't always be on tour, and I wouldn't always be filming either. At some point, we would live together almost every day and I seriously couldn't wait. I could write from home, and he could do the same, and I knew it would go very well.

"Niall also asked me to move in with him!" I announced with a huge grin, raising my eyebrows. "About to move my stuff soon!"

I saw Louis' face change and he looked down at his plate before clearing his throat. "Really? When are you moving?"

I frowned when I noticed the emotions on his face but simply licked my lips. I didn't want to cause a scene, and I was not sure of how he felt, but knowing Louis, he was probably going to talk to me about it.

"Probably mid june, it's the only time Niall has a few weeks off. Then he'll be on tour for 3 months almost non-stop." I admitted, swallowing hard at the thought.

I didn't want to be away from him and at the same time, I didn't know if I really should follow him everywhere. I didn't want to be that kind of girl anymore but wanting to be with my boyfriend was not being needy, right? I also didn't really want to stay alone in his big house the whole time he'd be gone. It sounded quite sad.

We started discussing old memories, mostly those from the last tour, and I would roll my eyes when Louis would mention how bad I supposedly had it for Harry. I was pretty sure he knew I was in love with Niall even back then but he was trying to get a reaction out of Niall and I couldn't pretend I didn't find it a bit entertaining. Every time Louis would mention a memory of something romantic or sexual between Harry and I, Niall would squeeze my thigh without really realizing it.

I got up to go to the bathroom after a while and when I got out, Louis was waiting for me, his side leaned against the wall.

"Why are you always waiting for me next to the bathroom." I asked with a chuckle.

"I missed you, you know. I missed my best friend." he pointed out, ignoring my question. "And now you're gonna move in with him for the very first time and, I don't know, I feel betrayed."

I took a step closer to him and shook my head. "Louis, you were already supposed to be with Eleanor, remember?"

"That was when you were supposed to marry Dylan."

I tilted my head and sighed, licking my lips. "I know you hadn't changed your plans. I mean, you were going to live with El either way, and it's okay." I just explained. "I want to try it with Niall. I want it so bad, Louis. But we'll always be close, you and I. I think I need you more than you'll ever need me."

"One day every week."

"Mm?"

"I have to see you at least once a week." he specified. "Sometimes with Niall and El, sometimes just us two, but once a week. I'm not losing touch, you hear me?"

"I hear ya." I smiled and tilted my head.

"Good." he nodded, staring at me for a few seconds. "Are you sure you're ready for that? Moving in with Niall, I mean. It's not gonna be easy."

"I know. But I'm sure." I let out firmly. "He's my soulmate. He's always been. And apparently, I'm his soulmate too. Life couldn't get better than that."

[winterscaptain]

and the last one for now (till we get more of the 100 arc) - we kinda need a director's cut on enough? 🥺 (BECAUSE YOU SPOIL US WITH SHOWING HIS RECOVERY).

anything for you my love! (i have a LOT of these coming, so i’ll queue them up through the rest of the week :))

commentary in bold italics because i cant figure out how to do the fancy colors

You knock on his door, takeout in your hand. “It’s me!”

After a minute of silence on the other side of the door, you take your keys out of your pocket and start to open the door. “Don’t shoot me. I’m using my keys.” You move to open it, and the chain is in place. 

Okay I just love the fact that they have a key to his apartment?? After everything he’s been through and how unsafe he feels in his home? I’m soft. 

Damn it, Aaron. 

Then - 

Is he okay?

The transition to light panic here was really important to me - I wanted to establish right away that the threat and the fear was still there, and the last time they couldn’t find Aaron, he was stabbed nine (!!) times.

“Aaron?” You call through the gap in the door. You leave the keys in the door and pull your phone out of your pocket, hitting the first number on your speed dial. 

You hear his phone ring, a smack, and both from down the hallway and through the speaker (with an echo): “Hotchner.” 

“I’m here with dinner. Open the door.” 

His voice is thick with sleep. “You have a key, right?”

“The chain is on. I’m surprised I didn’t trip the alarm.” 

He makes a little dissatisfied noise and hangs up. I love him. You can hear him plant his feet and walk down the hallway. You smile a little at him as he approaches the door, almost looking inconvenienced as he shuts it, removes the chain lock, and opens it again. 

“Are you seriously upset that I brought you food?” 

No, dear, that’s just his face. 

He shakes his head and steps back, letting you in before closing it.  “No, sorry. I just didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

You take stock of him as he turns his back on you and sits on the couch, settling with a slowness that looks painful. You set the food down and then return to lock the door. It’s easier for him to answer your question when you’re not looking at him. 

I love how well they know him. Like...he refuses to be vulnerable with the rest of the team, and even with them, he only feels safe when he can’t be seen. 

“How are you feeling?”

A sigh. “Alright.” 

And yet...

You look over your shoulder as you slide the chain lock back into place. “Don’t lie to me. It won’t work.” 

His head is in the takeout bag as he answers, still avoiding your eyes. “I’m sore and I can’t sleep at night and everything is healing slower than I want.”

There we go. There we go, indeed. 

You sit beside him. “Do your dressings need to be changed?” 

“I got most of them earlier, and Jess came over to help me yesterday, but there are a few that need to wrap around and I can’t -” He stops with a huff. “I can’t reach without -”

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I got it.” 

His jaw is tight, shaky. “Thanks.” 

Hotch and them just communicate with each other so well. They can understand what he needs and how he needs it presented to him. 

“First,” you say, grabbing one of the boxes, “food.” 

There’s a grateful little pull of his lips as you dig in. The news is on, but you pick up the remote and change it to some ridiculous reality TV program. 

“I was watching that.” 

“No you weren’t.” 

He wasn’t. 

This made me LAUGH like you wouldn’t believe. My parents do this all the time and it always makes me smile. 

You avoid his exasperated eyes as you set the remote on your side of the couch - farther than he can reach without stretching. 

You eat together in silence, the trainwreck on the television only marginally holding your attention. When you glance at him, you catch the side of his face twinge when he reaches for his glass of water.

“You know, not taking your pain meds doesn’t make you Captain America. It just makes you stupid, and in pain.” 

This is the piece of dialogue that got me started on this little fic. I was like “wait a minute - this fucker won’t take his meds and he’ll need someone to take care of him and the writers DEPRIVED us of joy so maybe i’ll just give myself a little joy, as a treat.

He levels you with a glare. 

+++

“Stop squirming.” 

“Sorry.” 

We love starting in the middle of a conversation/activity. I really hate writing build-up to stuff if it’s not actually relevant, so I’ve kind of worked on making scene starts feel active without being too abrupt. I’ve been known to write full on scenes and then just chop the shit out of them for pacing and structure. 

My outtakes document is like 25 pages long because I never really get rid of anything. 

With gentle fingers, you tape and tuck gauze around one of the wounds on his ribs. He flinches, a little pained noise leaving his throat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your fingers flutter for a second before setting back to work. Reaching blindly behind you, you grab the roll of gauze wrapping. “Hang on for just a second - this isn’t going to feel good.” 

He takes a deep breath (as deep as he can, anyway, considering his injuries), and you begin wrapping the dressing around his ribs, passing the roll from one hand to the other. He grits his teeth whenever it pulls the right amount, and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. 

I probably watched Aaron being in pain in carious episodes for close to an hour while putting this together. It sucked. 

“I’m going to tuck it in front so you can reach it, okay?”

He nods, his eyes closed. 

You’re sitting on his desk while he’s perched on the edge of his chair, his arm resting along the back - up and out of the way. This is the only place in the apartment he’s comfortable removing his shirt. 

Every other room has a mirror or a big window. 

ALRIGHT we’re gonna touch on Aaron’s insecurities here - we see his growth and confidence shift by the time we see him and Reader in mean it, where he feels comfortable when they take his shirt off and see his scars. 

“Okay, one more.”

You’ve saved the hardest one for last, but it has to go in that order. It’s the one just above his collarbone, right off the hollow of his throat, that needs the most attention and frequent changes. 

I noticed this dressing - the one right below his neck - on my final rewatch of Faceless, Nameless. I was scanning for things I missed, not looking at anything I’d seen before, and that just stood out to me. Thus, we got the extension of this scene that was originally going to end with “Every other room...window.” 

You tip his chin with the tip of your finger, giving you more space to work. 

Okay I didn’t even touch on the touching in this one. I think this is the most contact they’ve ever had, and I think something shifts in their friendship after this. 

Gingerly pulling at the tape, you remove the soiled dressing. Aaron’s breath comes as deep as he can through his teeth. When it quickens, you stop. 

You readjust so he can keep his head where it is and you can sit in his eye line. He meets your eyes with a tight jaw. 

Yes, we are mirroring the shaving scene in mean it here! There are a lot of mirror moments between that fic and this one - a kind of breakthrough of intimacy in both cases. 

“What can I do, Aaron?”

He closes his eyes again and tilts his head further to the side. “Just keep going.” 

The tears come unbidden into your eyes as you continue your work, but your hands and breath are steady. They are so moved to his pain it literally made me cry. I just thought of the way their hands must have shook and like...the sight of the wound itself. My best friend was hospitalized two years ago, and even seeing her in any pain just brought me straight to tears. For these two, where that’s so part of their everyday, I can’t even fathom it. You can hear him match his breath to yours and you’re thankful for your relative composure.  

The wound still looks wretched - angry and red and black and blue and weeping - but it’s not infected. 

You hold a towel up and he gingerly presses it to his chest while you reach for the wound wash, hiding your face from him. This is as much about protecting themself as it is about protecting Aaron. 

“Thirty seconds, thirty seconds,” you assure him. “Do you want me to count?”

I like the implication that they’ve counted the thirty seconds for him before, so I left it there. 

He shakes his head. “Just do it.” 

You shoot a gentle stream of the solution across the open tissue, held together by more stitches than you want to count, both internal and external. There are SO many delicate little ligaments and muscle fibers in the neck and upper chest - I asked my dad about it (reminder: he’s a former paramedic from Alameda county where paramedics can make an execute medical decisions lmao) and he said neck and clavicle injuries were a nightmare. Apparently, it’s like a minefield in there. The other arteries and delicate tissues of the body dont have so many key items, but the neck (obviously) does, with lots of room to damage upper and lower respiratory tracks. Thus...Lots of stitches. Anguished noises leave his chest through his teeth and you know he’s trying to suppress them with unsteady breath. His eyes are shut impossibly tight, and you can see unauthorized tears gathering in the corners. 

Unauthorized tears came to me while I was searching in vain for an appropriate adjective here. I didn’t want to just say that he was crying - it wasn’t good enough. I wanted to demonstrate that he didn’t want to cry, that neither one of them wanted to make the other feel badly for their own anguish. 

This is always the hardest part, and you’ve never gotten through it without crying. You hate how much he hurts. It’s like you can feel it yourself, the sting, the bone-deep ache, the throbbing. 

Tears fall down your cheeks, some landing on your shirt and others wandering down your throat. 

Even then, he knows you don’t pity him. 

If he thought that, he wouldn’t let you anywhere near him.

You wash and dab, wash and dab, until the wound is clean and fluid-free, apologizing the whole time. You throw both the wash and gauze to the side and reach for fresh wrapping while swiping at your eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Just a second.” 

You’ve touched your face, so now you have to wash your hands. Again. We love good hygiene practice! You leave him and go into the kitchen, wash and dry your hands, and return to him. 

He catches your eyes before you settle back down. There’s something behind his eyes you can’t name, and it sends something flying around your body. 

That’s love, babey!! Haley smacked sense into him since last we talked and Reader has NO clue! Wild! I love dramatic irony!

You always feel a little guilty for your tears, but he understands. He thought for a moment, in the beginning, about what he would do if the situation was reversed. 

I can just see Aaron thinking of this, almost getting stuck on it. He’s so sensory-oriented, so grounded in sensation and memory, that he would force himself to feel the full brunt of a hypothetical scenario where Reader is seriously injured. 

He doesn’t have to imagine too hard because of course he remembers the gunshot wound in through and through, but it would be different if they were hospitalized or something. 

After scant seconds of consideration, he had decided he could never be as composed as you, as vulnerable and open as you. He could never offer to clean and dress your wounds - the thought of causing you pain of any sort, even helpful pain, was unbearable. 

Besides that, he would be so angry that you were hurt at all and wouldn’t be able to keep his hands steady. 

Nothing like the barely-contained rage of cis white men born in the 1960′s! (Or maybe I’m just projecting my father here....anyways.....)

At the very least, he would probably scare you with the intensity of his fury. Anyone who ever laid a hand on you would be subject to a wrath comparable to that of God. 

And Aaron’s mom is Catholic, so he would know. 

I can’t wait to have more Mama Hotch! (For those of you who haven’t gotten to the reality check trilogy, I’ve named her Evelyn because a. it was popular when she was born and b. I needed Aaron’s mom to have a soft and elegant name) 

There is not a moment where he takes your execution of this particular task for granted. He knows how difficult it is. He thinks, perhaps, that this is the bravest act of love he’s ever seen. 

I love the way Aaron shows love. He’s adoring in kind of a different way, brave in a different way. There’s so much hiding beneath him if you know where and how to look. I don’t think people, either in the show or in the fandom or in general, really look critically at him that way. 

But could you love him?

Love?

No. 

Too old. Too broken. Too divorced. Too married to work. Too poor a father. Too many other things that make me wholly undeserving. 

He couldn’t, wouldn’t, subject you to himself. 

God I mean there is SO MUCH in him that internalizes EVERYTHING. He thinks everything is his fault and I just????? Ugh.

He’s satisfied loving you in silence. He’d done it for a while now, he realized, after his conversation with Haley. 

It would have to be enough.

It would have to be enough to watch you carry on with your joyful, vibrant life. 

It would have to be enough to watch your face light up for someone who loves you, who puts a ring on your finger and makes you happy. 

It would have to be enough to spoil your children if and when you became a parent, to hold the title ‘Uncle Aaron’ instead of ‘Dad.’

I added this last bit as almost an afterthought, and it was the one everyone seemed to love the most. Looking back, it’s my favorite too. 

It would have to be enough to know you would outlive him and die loved. 

It would have to be enough. 

You pick up your tools again, using three fingertips this time to tip his head to the side at the temple. He almost smiles. 

Here, I think its the juxtaposition between the direction of his thoughts and their gentle touch that makes him smile. It’s not a happy one, but I think its one of acceptance. He’s in a place, in this moment, where he actually trusts that they’ll be there. 

“What?”

He shakes his head the barest amount and raises his eyebrows. “Nothing.” 

I think they would have told them, if there was some way to explain it. But there wasn’t. 

With a roll of your still-watery eyes, you get back to work, folding and pressing the gauze to the wound with a light, even pressure. You try to ignore Aaron’s hiss as the smile dissolves off his face, replaced by restraint and pain. 

Holding the pad in place with one hand, you take the tape, hanging the roll on your thumb while you pull with your other hand. You tape all around the perimeter of it, gently warming the adhesive against his skin. 

“Alright. Almost done.” 

You have him hold the end right under the wound while you stand to better get around him. Once, like a sash, around his shoulder and across his back and under his other arm, once around his ribs, repeat. 

Again, you tear and tuck it in front so he can reach, and gently pat it into place. 

When it’s low-profile enough to disappear under his shirt -

“Finished.” 

You turn and gather everything into the little bin that lives under his bathroom counter before he can say anything. And this is their way of hiding from him. I purposefully focused in on Hotch’s inner monologue during this part, instead of Reader’s. We already know how they feel and how much they love him and yet deny it from here to next year. I thought it was much more interesting to examine Aaron’s acceptance of his feelings in this moment. He watches you, and you can feel his eyes at your back. 

The first time you came to visit after he got home, he was worried you’d look at him differently, was worried you’d pity him. 

This was originally up where the first mention of pity is, but I needed that inner moment with Aaron before I went back to a recollection. 

He shouldn’t have.

You showed up at the door looking at him just the same way you always did. He wasn’t sure quite what way that was, exactly, but it was the same. 

The first time you offered to help him with his dressings, he refused outright. It was only when you saw that a wound on his left side had ripped a little and bled through his shirt that you wrestled him down and took care of it. 

Harder still than exposing his pain? Taking off his shirt. You’d reached for the top button the first time and he flinched like he’d been burned. 

He refused to meet your eyes. 

This little memory was SUCH a clear image in my head - it was such a struggle to figure out where and how to include it. I was happy that I found a way to do it in a way that wasn’t jarring and didn’t detract.

“What on earth are you so afraid of?”

He opened his mouth as if he was going to raise his voice at you, but then snapped it shut, his jaw working. His eyes were trained on the carpet. 

“Hey.” 

He looked at you somewhat reluctantly. 

“It’s just me.”

I know, he thought, that’s the problem. 

“This,” you gesture to his general torso area, “is not going to scare me or freak me out. What does freak me out, however -” You point at him with a packet of sterile gauze. “- is the thought of you trying to do this on your own, ripping your stitches, you not going back to the hospital, getting infected, going septic, and having a generally bad time.”

He finally speaks, the barest bit of sarcasm in his tone. “That’s quite a reach, isn’t it?”

You shoot him a withering look. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me you’d willingly go back to get your stitches fixed every time you ripped them, I’ll leave you alone.” 

He won't meet your eyes again, looking like a guilty child as his eyes wander to the corner of the room with a bit of a squint. 

You made your point rather elegantly. 

You pass him his shirt over your shoulder and he takes it, slipping his arms into the sleeves. 

BECAUSE IT’S NORMAL. Reader simply doesn’t acknowledge his vulnerability because they don’t need to. They just accept it in him and make it safe. 

His ridiculous number of button ups were coming in handy, especially considering the increased risk of stains. You’ve soaked more shirts in peroxide in the last week than you care to count. 

Occupational hazard, I guess. 

Getting blood out of dress shirts is an ART and Reader has MASTERED it.

You pick up the little bin and take it back into the bathroom, your fingers tracing over the framed photos of Haley and Jack in the hall as you pass. 

There’s one of you and Haley, too, at some sort of summer function where you were all together. If you aren’t mistaken, Jess took the photo as you and Haley lounged in lawn chairs, laughing.

I love these little scenes that are captured in pictures. Most of the pictures I write in are not only for implicit characterization, but to capture little images and scenes I can’t find context for, or aren’t something I can put into a fic in any kind of neat and orderly way. 

So, just like in my head, they live in still or just-moving-a-little images. 

Another one of the two of you sits on the dresser in Aaron’s bedroom. You’ve never seen it. 

It’s another Jess-capture. Haley has Jack in her arms, kissing him on one cheek with a smile while you press a kiss to the other, eyes shut tight. One of your hands rests lightly on Haley’s arm, the other makes bunny ears over Jack’s head. The boy’s face is all crinkled like he hates it, but Aaron knows that photo was bookended by a screech of laughter and many, many giggles. 

It’s times like this where I wish I could draw Reader, so I could take this and paint it. I still might try with a vague impression of them....But I’m not sure. 

+++

You bounce into the office in the morning, looking no worse for wear even after spending the night on Aaron’s couch. 

Hey, it’s a comfortable couch.

The pair of you stayed out on the couch watching bad movies far later than you meant to, but it’s alright. 

I just LOVE this image. 

Not the first time that’s happened. 

You could neither confirm nor deny that Aaron slept, but you saw, through his open bedroom door, that he was still and quiet for most of the night. 

The open door was an important detail here. Naturally, Aaron would want to close himself off to as much of a threat as possible, but I think he actually feels safer with the door open when Reader is there just outside of it, rather than the alternative. 

“You look chipper this morning,” Penelope notes. 

You shrug. “I slept well last night.” 

“How’s Hotch?” Emily asks. 

Oh, gals you have no idea how related those questions are. 

That’s another mirror moment to mean it, by the way. 

You make a little wavering noise. “About how you’d expect, but alright.” 

It’s later in the day when Dave pulls you aside and thanks you, wrapping you in his arms. 

You lean into him and you’re almost frustrated, but not surprised, when tears press at your eyes again. It seems you’re made of them, these days. 

“We’re so lucky to have you.”

You shake your head, burrowing into his shoulder. “Other way around.” 

He pulls back and kisses you on the cheek, patting your other one affectionately before offering his hand to you. “Agree to disagree?”

You roll your eyes and shake on it. 

“Sure, Dave. Sure.” 

This reminds me of that little scene in redamancy when Dave and Mom are talking about how much he deserves to have one of the babies named after him. 

And thus concludes director’s commentary for enough!! I’m always happy to answer process questions if y’all have any!!

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 18

My eyes flutter open and for a moment I lay there, not comprehending what I’m seeing. There’s a window ahead of me, and the blinds have fallen down halfway, and a ray of sunlight is stabbing at me slyly through them. The air is soft and cool and comfortable and carries the same familiar stench of acrylic paint, and when I put my hand down to my side and feel at the blanket covering me it’s a scratchy, rough, worn one that I know very, very well.

Then I bolt out of bed and dart over to the window and rip it open, stick my head outside and stare. The bright blue sky leers down at me, and when I crane my neck and look down the side of the building I can see the street signs, one canted at a crazy angle like it’s always been. Corner of Franklin and White, Corpus Christi, Texas. I look back in the room; it’s empty. Queen bed. The other side is made up still and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

After a long, long while I go back in and close the window, pad over to the dresser and take one of the oversized flannels out and shrug into it, leave everything else bare. It nearly comes down to my knees anyway, I’ll be warm enough in just this.

I end up sitting in the overstuffed armchair in the living room staring at the dull blank slate of the ancient cathode-ray TV that’s been squatting decrepit in the corner for at least the last four years. In the screen my distorted image glowers back at me.

Either this is a dream, or the Pit is.

I’ve been pushing and prodding at the conclusion like a toothache for the last half an hour or so, my legs tucked up under me to try and keep warm, but I can’t see any other way I would have gotten here. Not realistically, anyway.

I keep thinking about what Peter told me, about the dreams he’d had, and wonder. Then, fifteen minutes later, when I don’t see any sign of waking and I’ve pinched at myself enough to cause bruises, I conclude that I’ll wake later.

Or maybe I am awake, and the Pit was a dream. But why do I shy away from that so heavily? It’d be a neat get-out-of-jail-free card, wouldn’t it?

Maybe it’s because if it was a dream I would have woken up in my own bed in my own apartment. Wouldn’t I have? I can’t imagine a series of circumstances that would have lead me back to –

A shadow passes the window, blotting out the light, and then moves past. Something about it gives the impression of stateliness, of a slow lumbering bulk. The light is different in its wake and I can feel a twinge in my stomach as I look over. The curtains in here are drawn and I cannot see out but the color of the light is wrong, there’s something off about it. It is, I realize belatedly, the wrong shade. I’d just woken up and the light was blue and hard and sharp but now it’s dull and orange and aggressive, the color of a Florida sunset.

Something inside myself screams at me not to, but I get up, feeling suddenly vulnerable, standing there naked except for the flannel. I go to the window and reach out to open the blinds. My hand is shaking, I notice, and my lip curls. Then without giving myself time to hesitate I fling them open and stand there gawping at the roiling mountains of ropy, sinuous flesh outside. The sun is struggling through a gasping red haze in the air and all of a sudden I can smell it, I can taste it on my tongue, that meaty umami Pit smell, so dank and organic I can feel it coating the back of my throat. I gag and paw at myself and my hands come back with an oily sheen.

Outside the world is like someone threw a fleshy sheet over everything. I can see apartment buildings and skyscrapers downtown prodding through but they’re wrapped in it, great twisted whorls of flesh, rivers of mucus and slime and blood, weeping sores, trees crackled and half-bent beneath fatty folds. I can see things moving, far off, indistinct crustacean things lurking in the dark beneath the shadows of the coated buildings. I can hear screams.

My heart is pounding and then after a moment I realize that it’s the door, that someone’s at the door, hammering at it, and then Thor calls out and I stop, everything stops.

I haven’t heard his voice in so long and part of me aches at its touch, like the sound were made of heated steel.

I go to the door cautiously and look out through the peephole; I can see the rivulets of flesh running along the hallway, and in fact they are so thick that it might as well have been straight out of the Pit. Only a few errant little patches where the ugly floral wallpaper peeks through give any indication that the room is inside of an apartment block.

Whatever anger I might have expected to feel when I see Thor isn’t there inside of me when I reach for it. He just makes me sad now. Especially like this, looking around anxiously, watching his back. I throw the latch and open the door and he jumps a little, and I am devouring him with my eyes, sweeping him from head to toe. Massive slab-like chest heaving, beard and cheeks rugged, eyes dark and stormy. Christ, I shouldn’t have opened the door, why the hell did I –

Thor sweeps me into his arms just like he always does, and I melt just like I always do. He holds me there, feet a solid six inches off the ground, just staring into my eyes, and I’m halfway towards slapping him, halfway towards yelling at him to put me down, that he doesn’t have any right to just act like nothing’s changed, when he kisses me, and the rest of my willpower flutters out of my body.

Then inside of my mouth his tongue splits apart into multiple individual entities with scuttling legs and chitinous carapaces that wriggle around and then force themselves down my throat, and I can feel them all the way down. Though I try to struggle he crushes me to his chest and I can feel it break apart like his ribs were toothpicks and he stuffs me inside of himself, my arms and legs bending backwards until they snap, but I can’t feel it, all I can feel is the raw abraded stump of his tongue writhing deeper and deeper inside of my mouth, and I’m screaming but I can’t breathe, all I can do is make wet moaning shrieks while I stare into his eyes, watch his pupils pop and multiply like frog eggs, his head having followed me somehow inside of his chest, and –

“Roan!”

Something slaps me across the face and I sit bolt upright and smack my head on the upper retaining bar of the tent. I open my mouth to scream again but then I realize that I’m staring into Elena’s wide-eyed, worried face, and I can’t do anything but burst into tears. “God,” I keep muttering, hiding my face in her shoulder as she pats my back softly and murmurs against the side of my head that it’s okay, that it was just a bad dream.

Someone outside rattles on the tent bars. “What the fuck is going on in there?” the Sergeant barks, and I feel Elena stiffen next to me.

“Roan had a nightmare, Sarge, that’s all,” she calls back. “We’re fine.”

“Well,” he says, his voice taking on a horribly cutting tone, “tell Merriweather there to keep it down. The rest of us are trying to sleep.”

Something about the way he spits the name makes me shudder, even if it isn’t my real name. Elena feels it and holds me tighter, and I lean my head up and kiss her on the neck. “Don’t worry about him,” she tells me when we break apart. “His bark’s worse than his bite.”

“I just don’t like yelling,” I tell her, inwardly cringing at how infantile it must sound. “I’ve never liked men who yell.”

“Well,” Elena laughs, “I think you might be on the wrong team for that.”

“Yeah,” I groan, flopping back onto the sleeping bag. I still feel a little nauseous; I keep running my tongue over the inside of my mouth, cringing at the way it felt in the dream. It had seemed so real…

“Can I ask you something?”

I flick my eyes over at Elena just as she darts her gaze away from mine, pretends to busy herself with smoothing out the little compressible camp pillow at the head of her sleeping bag. “Yeah.”

“Who’s Thor?”

“Fuck,” I blurt as soon as the name passes her lips. “Don’t tell me I said –“

“You were yelling it,” she tells me. “And then you were doing this weird thing with your tongue like you were choking –“

“Oh my god,” I groan, putting my head in my hands. Elena reaches over and runs her hand along my back.

“Hey, stop,” she says. “I want to help.”

I think about that for a while, trying to loosen my tongue and just tell her, dammit, if she hated you she wouldn’t act this way, but something in me revolts at it, and it isn’t until she leans over and digs my face out from my earthen palms and kisses me, very seriously, that I relent. She starts to say something and from the look on her face I can tell that she thinks there must be some sort of damage, there must be some sort of…I don’t know, underlying pain, and it’s that look that snaps me out of it, that sets a curl to my lip that I quickly banish.

“Thor,” I tell her, “is the name of my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not like that,” I say quickly. “I dreamed – It doesn’t matter what I dreamed. It wasn’t a sex dream or anything like that, it –“

Elena is laughing too hard for me to go on. I can feel myself blushing and I set my mouth very harshly and roll over, but she feels me moving and holds me tighter so I can’t. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” she explains. “I wouldn’t care if it had been. I just thought it was so funny that that’s what you were concerned about, that you were worried that I would, I don’t know, be jealous that you even have an ex-boyfriend.”

I think about that for a while. “I guess I still don’t know what to think of you,” I tell her. I lean my head into hers and touch her nose with mine; I feel it scrunch up as she smiles at me. “I don’t have a name for the way you make me feel.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“In a hopeful way.”

She grunts affirmation, kisses me again, a quick peck that traces down my neck and my bare chest and settles on one nipple.

“Then let me make you feel good,” she breathes, and then her hand is working along my thigh to the moist cleft between my legs, and I feel my heart do a funny little throb in my chest. I reach down and stop her, bring her hand back up to clasp around my back. She looks up from my breast, shoots me a confused glance.

“If we’re going to be serious about this,” I tell her, stomping down on the little voice in the back of my head going but what if, “I want this to be based on something more than just sex. Because sex is great and you are very good at it,” I tell her, trying not to grin too widely, “but I want to – I want to fall in love with you, not your fingers and your tongue and your pussy.” I wince at her. “Okay, that might have sounded better in my head, but –“

“I know what you mean,” she tells me. “And I think that’s very, very sweet of you.”

We lay there in silence like that for a while. I run my fingers through her close-cropped mop of blonde hair. Eventually I just ask her, and brace myself for the response. “What do you want this to be?” I say, and she turns her face up to me. “If you want this just to be sex I’m okay with that but – but we should know what it’s going to be, we should –“

“I haven’t been in a real relationship in about three years,” she tells me, settling her head back down onto my chest. “Not because my last one was particularly bad or anything, but because for the last three years I’ve been on this team and I knew how bad of an idea getting involved with any of them would be. Yeah, there’s been some sex. There’s been some brief emotions involved here and there.” I feel her lips draw back as she laughs at herself. “But I knew that anything definite would have torn this team apart because I was the only woman on it, so I’ve played the cold bitch for a long time.”

“I don’t think you’re like that,” I say reflexively, and she laughs.

“I know I’m not. But if you play a role like that for long enough you find it hard to stop.”

“So what –“

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a woman,” she says, flicking her eyes down to my breasts. “I’ve been with more men than women but sometimes you just run into…into someone special. That makes you go, ‘god, women are just so…” she makes a little growly grunting noise in her throat and I laugh. “You know?”

“God,” I groan. “I actually think I know what you mean. I always thought I might be bi, but aside from one time in college when I made out with a girl at a party –“

Elena slaps me very lightly across the cheek and I squeak in surprise.

“I thought you told me I was your first!” she cries in mock outrage, and then when I try to explain she laughs and starts tickling me and the situation devolves from there, and then when we’re done and I’ve stopped shuddering I look at her, still hunkered over me, and reach down and slap her face lightly.

“I thought I said I wanted this to be based on something other than sex,” I tell her, and she laughs, still a little out of breath, and collapses onto her mattress next to mine.

“Then you shouldn’t have sucked on my nipple so much.”

“Uh, you started this.”

“Nope, I was just tickling you. You’re the one who went there.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Tell me about Thor,” she says, and I look over at her.

“This is really what you want to talk about?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yeah,” she says, reaching for me. I settle my leg above her hip and she puts a hand on my ass. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Bit of an odd place to start,” I grumble, and she laughs.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

I think about Thor. It’s a little like poking a sore on the inside of my mouth, one I’m hyperaware of but have been trying to avoid.

“Well, his real name wasn’t Thor. It’s Richard, but everyone called him Thor because he looked the part, you know. Big muscles, beard, long hair, everything. We met in college. Well, actually, I was in college but he was bartending at this pub I’d go after class most nights. Then I ended up interviewing him for the college paper I was writing for cause, Christ, what was it? Right, because he was an eyewitness for an armed robbery at the liquor store down the road. We sat down for a couple of hours in the bar on his day off and did way more flirting than interviewing and then after that he asked me if I wanted to go out with him sometime and I was already smitten by then so of course I said yes. The rest’s history.”

“He sounds nice.”

I open my mouth, then close it again while I try to think of an adequate way to respond to that. “Yeah,” I say finally. “He could be nice.”

“How long were you two together?”

“Six years.”

“Damn. And you never got married?”

I laugh. “No. I was too scared of the commitment. And Thor – I don’t think he really wanted to get married. We talked about it sometimes, in the abstract, about getting married and having a kid and all of that shit, but I don’t think either of our hearts were really into it.”

“Do you think that was because of who you are or because of your relationship?”

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Like, do you personally want kids? Or to get married? Not necessarily to him but just in general.”

“I don’t think I do. I’d be too scared I’d fuck it up. Like, both, I mean. I’d fuck up a marriage and I’d fuck up a kid.”

“I don’t think you would,” Elena tells me, and I smile at her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she says, rolling her eyes. “But I really don’t think you would.”

I gather her tighter to me and leave a kiss on her forehead, and then from somewhere against my chest she asks me what ended up happening between me and Thor, how the relationship ended, and I sigh to think about it. “What was your last relationship like?” I ask her. She shrugs.

“Fine. Lasted about a year. Sex was good but I didn’t love him.”

“And he loved you?”

“Yeah,” she laughs. “It’s an old story.”

“The oldest,” I agree. “Well, me and Thor, I think we did love each other, but if you’re with someone for six years you end up hating them, all of the stupid little things that they do that they never change, you start seeing the bad more than the good, and I don’t think we loved each other enough to stick with it through that. We didn’t handle it well, though, we both wanted to make it work so we’d get in these huge screaming fights over really stupid shit and then we’d break up furious with each other and we’d resolve not to see each other again, we’d go meet other people, and then when they hurt us we’d come back. We always did. There’s something about that familiarity, about knowing someone so well that you can always come back to them when you’re hurt, that would glue us back together for another month or two, and then we’d get in a fight again. Rinse and repeat.”

“It sounds awful.”

“It’s something you grow into. Then he ended up getting HIV from someone he’d fucked and giving it to me, and now I’m here. I was furious at him. Aside from when I called him and screamed at him when I got the test results I haven’t talked to him since.”

Elena is quiet for a long while. “I’m sorry,” she offers finally.

“It’s okay. Both of our faults, really. With that kind of lifestyle we both probably should have been getting tested for things like that more often than we were. It was just this great big self-destructive spiral and you don’t…you don’t have the energy or the willpower to change it until it chews you up and spits you out.”

“Well…” she says, looking up at me. “What’s the next step? You’ve got to keep moving forward.”

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I haven’t gotten that far yet. I think right now I’m focusing on just…existing by myself. Six years is a long time. I have to figure out what I think of myself again.” Then I realize how that must sound and I start to backtrack. “I mean – you’re…you weren’t part of the plan, but I don’t mind rethinking –“

“Roan,” Elena laughs, reaching up for me and tugging me back down against her, “you overthink everything, don’t you?”

I settle against her, let the tension flow out of me. It takes a moment but I’m able to do it, let myself relax. “Maybe,” I grumble, and she laughs again, rich and throaty.

“Why don’t we just let things go however they go?” she suggests. “Don’t worry about anything definite, don’t worry about stupid fucking labels, let’s just get through the expedition and then see how we feel about each other after?”

“I like labels,” I say in a small voice. “I don’t like feeling uncertain.”

“You feel uncertain about me?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I’m just afraid that –“

“Then shh. Save it.”

“But –“

“Roan, it’s three in the morning,” she says, gently admonishing, and I start.

“Wait, really? I thought it was way later –“

“Well, it’s not. Now, you want to hold me so we can both go back to sleep? Tomorrow’s going to suck if we stay up much later.”

And with that she nestles her head against me and closes her eyes and it is very simple for me to just lay there and breathe, feeling her hands gripping my back slowly grow more and more limp, and then I manage to fall asleep as well, despite her soft whispery snores in my ear.

 * * *

 The morning is relatively quick. We wake at seven or eight or so – I left my wristwatch back in the barracks so I don’t have access to an accurate measurement of time, and trying to work the geriatric software in the wristpad is a little beyond my sleep-addled brain. I feel relatively well-rested; waking up at three certainly didn’t do me or Elena any favors but she offers me a caffeine pill and I take it gratefully, and once it kicks in later during our leisurely MRE breakfast I do feel a little more alert.

The mood is more cheerful than I’d expected. It feels for all the world like we’re just on a camping trip. If anyone is feeling anxious about having to go deal with the copepods they’re doing a very good job of not showing it. I take a couple of candid shots while we’re sitting around the communal stove – Crookshank gesticulating, big grin on his face, telling a story to Slate, who’s lazing back on his elbows, MRE tray resting on his chest; the Sergeant sitting cross-armed and alone but eyes cut to the left, listening to the story as well; Fumi and Ellis in the middle of trading their cheese spread packets; Peter grinning at me and waving from across the circle; Euler rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

It all feels very distant from yesterday, but maybe it’s because I’ve done so much since. Even the shamble seems like it was a whole month ago at least, it doesn’t seem real. And I can even manage to look Crookshank in the eyes; after last night I didn’t think I’d ever be able to, but when our gazes accidentally meet we offer perfunctory smiles to each other and then carry on as though nothing had happened, although perhaps for him that’s less surprising than it is for me.

Altogether too quickly breakfast is over and then we’re on the move again. The next couple of hours take us to the terminus of the Organ Trail, a vast bowl-like depression of flesh that Elena informs me was once a bile bladder of some kind, and then we take a left and go through a man-made channel bored through the flesh of the Pit. I stare at the ceiling, wondering at it, at the scarified criss-cross of the retaining plates and stents. Everything looks very old here, and for a while I’m concerned, wondering if it’ll come crashing down on top of us, but it stays very still and strong and resolute throughout our passage, even when Joker’s clanging footsteps resound off the metal walkway and put an unhealthy shudder to the entire enclosed path.

I look back at Joker today less than I did yesterday. I haven’t observed any more episodes like in the gondola ride down, and so I’ve gradually begun to let my guard down around the machine. Not like keeping my guard up would do anything; if it did decide to go crazy and kill all of us I don’t think there’d really be anything we could do about it. Maybe if someone nailed it with one of the big forty-millimeter slug rifles that about half the team carry, that might put it down.

I’ve been around guns before, even shot some, but the slug rifles are in another league entirely. They are without a doubt the biggest guns I’ve ever seen, and the slugs they fire are so large that my mind doesn’t even register them as bullets, more like big cartoony grenades, like something you’d throw.

My own little pistol weighs heavily on my hip. Even though I qualified, I flinched too heavily whenever I pulled the trigger, and though I hit those shots, if I were in a pinch? If I had to? I don’t think I could do it again.

It makes me feel nervous, holding a gun again. I feel hyper-aware of it, like a part of my mind is just staring down at the matte black grip of it, prodding out of the holster.

A little nine millimeter pistol isn’t going to be helpful against anything that’s really determined to hurt me down here anyway. And there’s no way in hell I could handle one of those forty-millimeter guns. They wouldn’t even let me even try to fire one at the range, even braced, because there was a decent chance it’d dislocate my shoulder. What I could use is something like a bowie knife, but I guess they didn’t think about that very much. Everyone else has one, or at least a similarly large knife, hanging off of their belts, but they didn’t issue me one. Maybe that’s what I should be concerned about, that I didn’t get my standard-issue ranger knife.

Lots to think about, stamping along there in the back with Elena and Euler and Joker. Lots of conversation up in front, lots of laughter, but aside from soft murmurs here and there Elena and I seem to be content to just enjoy our mutual presence, and Euler is equally quiet and reserved. Personally I think he’s still a little unnerved by our surroundings; I’ve grown used to them far more quickly than I thought I would have, but sometimes when I look back I see Euler gazing at the walls or the ceiling or the wet, sticky, red-veined floor with something approaching trepidation in his tight-set lips, clutching at the remote control like a talisman, working the joysticks mechanically without even looking to make sure Joker keeps putting one foot in front of the other. I’d squeezed Elena’s hand and then fallen back, walked with Euler for a while, asked him all sorts of questions about Joker.

The remote, he told me, seemingly happy to have someone asking about something, I gradually realized, that might have been his life’s work, wasn’t for fine motions or anything incredibly precise. The machine brain inside Joker knew, he said, how to balance, how to grab things, how to walk, the remote was just for telling it where to move, what to grab, and so on. The eventual goal was for the remote to not be necessary but they weren’t confident enough in the robot’s autonomy yet for that to be possible, outside of limited and controlled circumstances.

I think again of Joker’s hand clenching hard enough to strain metal, there in the dark of the gondola, just inches from me, and wonder.

I say goodbye to Euler, filter back up. Elena has worked her way up into the rest of the group and is speaking animatedly to Fumi and Ellis about something. I watch her for a while, lit by the bobbing headlamps from behind, smiling to myself, and then someone nudges me and I look over to see Slate walking alongside, tall and handsome and shining even inside the helmet and the lumpy ranger suit. He grins at me but more gently than the other night at the party, and I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him. We haven’t spoken much, other than a few perfunctory comments here and there, but now he inclines his head down to me, nodding ahead at Elena.

“You and Novak, eh?” he says, his tone mildly congratulatory, and I flush immediately but it’s accompanied by a warm, slightly fuzzy sensation that I recognize after a moment as gratification at implied acceptance, and so I grin cheekily up at him, and shrug.

“Is it that obvious?”

Slate tilts his head as if considering. “Well, you do spend most of your time together, but I wouldn’t think that was out of the ordinary considering you’re the only two women on the team…” he says, and I start to say something, but then a smirk curls his lips. “…except I saw you two holding hands here in the back for like six hours yesterday, so I put two and two together.”

Something about this strikes me as so funny that I laugh hard enough for Klaus to slow his pace, fall in step with us, and ask what the joke is, and then me and Slate are both laughing at Klaus’s slightly bemused expression, but I reach out and put my hand on his shoulder and assure him that we aren’t making fun of him, that it was something else, and he’s a good sport about it. I walk there for a while sandwiched between the two of them, washing in the realization that the acceptance I was so hungry for back when I first met the team has come and found me so subtly that I didn’t even realize.

Slate and Klaus and I talk for a while and I only have to make up a couple of stories about my dismally ordinary life in Admin. Klaus is very quiet, I discover, but whenever I look over to see if he’s still paying attention I see his eyes glittering at me very alert and contemplative, the cast of his face screaming ease at me from every pore. And Slate – well, Slate isn’t so bad, not really. Maybe I had been too quick to judge at first, even if he does keep calling me ‘little lady.’

It feels like a knot somewhere inside of my heart is undoing itself and the feeling of looseness is so distantly-remembered that for a while it feels as though something is wrong.

Eventually Slate has to go up and put the hydraulic stent he carries into a narrow passage, and so he leaves us, pulling a face as he does, and then it’s Klaus and me, standing there in the middle of the pack, Crookshank, the Sergeant, and Slate up at the front fiddling with the jack and the rest of us watching. I realize something after a moment and then lean over to Klaus.

“Hey,” I say. “What’s the Sergeant’s name?”

Klaus laughs softly. “He’s South African,” he says. He has a soft, lilting Spanish accent. “So he has a long, unpronounceable Dutch-sounding name. He got tired of all of us saying it wrong so he just told us to call him Sergeant.”

I think back to my brief high school Die Antwoord phase and suppress a grin. “Reasonable,” I mutter.

“Eh?”

“I said that that’s reasonable.”

Klaus nods. He’s only a little taller than me, and very slightly built. I’ve wondered a little about what his role on the team must be but after watching him move over the past couple of days I figured out that he must be some sort of scout. There’s a lithe kind of panther’s grace in the way he moves, even in the bulky plated suit, and he’s accidentally startled me a couple of times just because of how quiet he can be. We talk for a little longer but he’s mostly interested in stories about my ‘work’ at Admin and I keep steering the conversation in other directions and he picks up quickly that I don’t really want to talk about it. He isn’t rude enough to pry, though, and we quickly lapse into small talk. He has a son and a wife back there in Gumption somewhere, and the way his face lights when he talks about them does something funny to me that I can’t immediately identify.

He fumbles around in a pocket for a while, there in the middle of the crowd, bobbing headlamps and quiet conversation and the grunt of effort and muttered curses there in the front while Crookshank and the Sergeant and Slate struggle with the goddam motherfucking wing nut on the side of the goddam motherfucking son of a bitch fucking hydraulic jack, goddam it motherfucker turn will you, and pulls out a photograph of the three of them, looking like it was taken at a barbecue or something. Wide smiles. His wife is very pretty. I tell him so and he smiles at me, an echo of the miniature one in the photo.

Then the jack pops into life and we’re stomping through the vein. I end up behind Elena and goose her lightly and she turns around, neck awkward and stumpy in the suit, and grins at me through the glass plate of the helmet. She reaches back for me, catches my hand and squeezes it tightly. “You doing alright?” she asks. “Haven’t seen you much all day.”

“I’m great,” I tell her. “Just been hanging out. Smile,” I tell her, and she looks down at the camera and sticks her tongue out, holds it there. I let her go for a second or so, then laugh. “It’s video.”

“Oh, right.”

We eat a quick perfunctory lunch a little later, there at the lowest point of the organ trail, a sort of off-branching tributary that meanders horizontally through about a mile of flesh before we reach the Cord.

Spectacular doesn’t even begin to cover it. I hadn’t really asked questions about our destination because I’d made assumptions about what it was, but when we came to the hollowed-out clearing and the Sergeant had opened the enormous and terrifically old metal submarine door set into the exposed bone there and ushered us inside, I hadn’t known what to expect – but certainly not a spiral staircase set around the inside of the Pit’s spinal cord. There in the middle, suspended in air and protected by a solid case of glass and metal, is a intensely complex filigree of thin gossamer nerves, tangled and bundled and flowing with light, thick corded globs of it surging blisteringly fast up and down the length of the spine for as far as I can see in both directions, until it fades into murky darkness above and below.

Elena catches up to me while I’m standing there gawking and laughs at me, especially when I take her hand and hold it there, just for a moment, catch her up and get her to just stand next to me and stare.

“Pretty, huh?”

“I had no idea,” I say softly, my eyes tracking a particularly fat and slow-moving bundle of light, “that they’d built inside the spine of this place –“

“It’s not really the spine. There are a bunch of cords like this, there’s like five or six,” she informs me, cutting her head to the left and getting us moving again. “This one was just the most convenient to use for getting up and down vertically. It goes all the way down to the Gift Gardens.”

“To the what?”

“The bowels. Long story. Tell you sometime later.”

“But these nerves –“

“They put this in a long time ago,” she says, gesturing at the burnt-out lights, at the metal stairs. “When they didn’t really care about the Pit’s wellbeing. We’re probably the first people to have used this in at least a decade.”

“Why don’t they get rid of it?”

“Too much effort,” Euler guesses from behind us. “Not enough budget.”

“Yeah,” Elena grunts, glancing back at him. “And too much damage taking it out, now that the Pit’s grown back around it.”

We walk in silence then, accompanied only by Joker’s echoing footfalls, until finally, what feels like a couple hundred feet down, we pass through another thick door and into Oyster’s Shame.

I understand the name, or at least part of it immediately, for as I look around my light catches the surface of the vast, rugose, spleenlike organ and it shimmers and breaks apart into a soft pearly opalescence that reminds me of the ocean, of the way the light catches the water in a tidepool.

The surface is deep and spongy and pockmarked with perfectly round craters, each about as big around as a queen bed or so. Here and there the craters still have occupants – vast round balls of something, cakey and flaking, a dirty off-white color. Some of them have crumbled but others, perhaps newer ones, have more of a lustrous shine to them, similar to the sheen on the walls but deeper in a way, like layers of more and more subtle colors and gradations of white. Craning my neck upwards I see dozens if not hundreds of tinier bulbs forming there on the ceiling, dangling down from thick fleshy strands. Some of the larger ones sway lightly, bulging and pregnant. Are they eggs? Some kind of cocoon for the larva of a creature that lives down here? I go to ask Elena but something in her face stops me. There is some kind of air of reverence here, something I can’t put my finger on. Even Crookshank and Slate up in the front have grown quiet.

We pass in a winding single-file trail through Oyster’s Shame towards the squatting bulk and artificial lines of the Deep Listening Station, hunkered there like a cat licking its lips, light pouring from its portholes, but the closer we get to it the more I feel as though something must be wrong.

The door is open, the great porthole standing open, and the light inside is flickering and indistinct.

We stop and spread out in a rough semi-circle ahead of the doorway. The Sergeant’s face is drawn and grim and for a moment I don’t understand why, but then I look inside and see the trail of blood leading into the station and curving a sharp left out of sight, see a bloody handprint on the wall like it were a scene out of a horror movie.

As everyone around me unlimbers their guns and coaxes as many reassuring metallic clicks and taps out of them as they can, all I can see, all I can train my camera on, is the cold, pale hand lying limp on the floor, the arm it’s attached to extending further back deeper in the station, into gloom that my eyes can’t penetrate, the fingers curled as though beckoning us in.

Continue with Part 19

Back to Table of Contents

[tylerwritez]

11:10 p.m. Tuesday June 29

Hey guys

As I type this I'm a little scared since my parents are arguing downstairs pretty bad... I had to try n brush my teeth quietly so I could stay outta it except my toothbrush is ELECTRIC.... they probably know I heard it all.

Well... I didn't hear it all. I couldn't make out half of it. They just both seemed agitated and angry and my mom called my dad a motherfucker and was on the phone with soemone saying bad stuff about him and the whole time he was saying she was lying and it was just really nasty to have to hear...

11:18 p.m. Its weirdly quiet now. But I'm scared. I'm scared. I want none of this. I don't want them to feel so fucking... upset. I hate that. Oh no. Oh no. I feel like I'm about to cry. But I won't. I won't cry because I'm stronger than that. I won't cry.

Oh shit now they're talking about me... but it sounds like my dad's on the phone with someone and my mom is gone, probably smoking/drinking in the garage. They're pissed I'm not packed yet. Damn, they really can't stand each other.

My mom is faking abuse????

It's hard to tell what he's saying from up here in my room...

It's my responsibility not to be upset about this anyways, okay? I'm just worried that shit will go down... or that my sister is hearing all this.

FOOTSTEPS... MY DADS... SCARED. SCAREDSCAREDSCARED PLEASE DONT GO UP THE STAIRS PLEASE DONT GO UP FUCK

Okay I misheard he just turned on the A/C... didnt go upstairs to my room. Man my ribs hurt. Probably from binding. they hurt so much I cant sleep on my side tonight :( oh well.

12:56 a.m. update: GODDAMNIT I TRIGGERED MYSELF BY LISTENING TO THIS FUCKIGN SONG AND NOW I HAVE SELF HARM URGES FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK HELP HELP ME HOW DO I STOP I HaVE NO REASON TO CUT I JUST GOT TRIGGERED TO WANTING TO DO IT...

1:20 a.m. update: I think I want to be sick again. I look at all this work I've done and I think to myself, why did I have to do this all alone? Why is there still so much ground to cover? It's not bad enough. I should be sicker if I want help.

I think I WANT to fall back into my old habits so I can get help.

That's. Weird.

I'd tell y'all about my day but I didnt really go out. We went to the mall and I l1fted some stuff. Easy peasy. I'm listening to music... I packed some more so lots of music... youtube...

I didnt do much today. This entry looks lazy but my day WAS lazy. It's super hot here... I have a fan RIGHT NEXT TO ME RN and I'm half naked and that's like. A normal temperature. If I were to move away from the fan (and its 2 cm away from me) I'd die of heatstroke.

Here's the song I'm listening to:

I'm alone, in the dark. I don't know. My brain keeps going back to the same memories over and over and over and forcing me to live through it all and forcing me to feel all of that and my physical form can't handle it and I start to twitch and spasm.

Actually I noticed I'm kinda prone to weird movements... this physical vessel is weak. I stim (sometimes on purpose, sometimes not on purpose), I get shiveries, my arms start to tremble if I put any weight on them and keep em in the same position long enough, and MEMORIES make my physical self RECOIL, my ribs hurt a lot..... I'm so weak. So so weak.

I dont know how I'm supposed to feel about that? I dont WANT to be weak in any way. But I mean... it makes sense.

I'm hoenslty really fucked up.. I need therapy like right fucking now but WE ALL KNOW IM NOT GETTING ANY OF THAT :)

Oh the strife that comes with trying to be a decent son and more accurately, oh the strife that comes with being afraid of telling g people that you need therapy... and being afraid of therapy and therapists in general.

If only we could erase the past.

I don't WANT to be a living breathing memory of a boy who's dead now, or a funeral sad about the man he could've become.

... I keep looking around my room and seeing how BARE it looks and it really cements the fact that I'm moving cos my parents are getting divorced and its fucking OVER. Like woah. Just when I finally thought I could maybe get a family,,, it's all torn apart.

I wonder how long they loved each other... and how long they stayed together for us.

Fucking hell. Fuck. FUCK. this is so unfair. I thought maybe... I thought that since they stopped being so scary and mean... I thoguht that since... well okay. They stopped being total dickheads to me and let me express myself more and now things are so much better and as long as you catch them in a good mood... you have parents.

....

Now? I wonder if any chance for me to rebuild our relationship and become a normal family has been taken away.

Fuck, why do I care so much about Parents anwyays? It's too late now. Even if they got back together and started being decent toward me like a real true family, that doesnt undo everything else.

Fuck, but I can never tell them that. They proabbaly think to themselves that hey, at least they did a good job with Kid Number 1... I dont have the heart to tell them its complicated.

I know whoever reads this is gonna think I'm some ungrateful brat. But trust me... I've been through some stuff. The ian you know today is a fucking hellhound. The dog of god, not the lamb of god.

I'll explain later. I'm too tired now. Here, take this post.

1:37 a.m.

Goodnight

Oh shit no not goodnight, Ariel messaged me, one sec

[adavenhaikyuu]

If The World Could Stand Still

Summary: 

Painfully familiar green eyes stared at him from across the hall. For a moment, Oikawa felt like he was dreaming, like one of those nightmares that’d leave him waking up in a cold sweat even as he mourned losing them to the daylight. Why was Iwaizumi here? And why did he have to be Oikawa’s new roommate?

“Hi, I’m Daichi,” the words broke him out of the green-eyed spell he’d been under, Iwaizumi looking away.

“Iwaizumi,” he bowed his head in greeting, eyes sliding back to a still frozen Oikawa. Daichi shifted next to him, shoulder gently bumping into his. “Do you two know each other?”

“We’re childhood best-”

“Yeah, we used to live near each other,” Oikawa cut Iwaizumi off, ignoring the frown his words earned. It wasn’t a lie and it’d been too long for them to still consider each other their best friend. Even if Oikawa’s heart ached at the thought.

Pairing: Iwaizumi/Oikawa

Chapters: 1/~

Word Count: 2238

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28072911/chapters/68776866#workskin 

“Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes. A farewell is necessary before you meet again. And meeting again, after moments or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends.” - Richard Bach

*************************

“Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah, Tooru?”

“Why does the sun have to rise?”

*************************

Rain drizzled from a dreary sky, splattering against the foggy window panes. Oikawa’s head lolled against the slightly chilled glass, his eyes flickering open as the last tendrils of sleep slipped away. A fuzzy haze still clouded his mind, the hour-long bus nap not nearly enough to make up for two sleepless nights. He groaned and pushed himself upright, shuffling his feet until they hit the duffle bag on the ground.

It wasn’t like he’d meant to stay up for so long. How could he have known a new hero would move into town? And the bastard had been such a pain too…

Oikawa huffed and pulled out his phone, swiping through the series of texts and social media updates in his notification bar. Clicking on the one from Kuroo, Oikawa leaned his head back against the glass, ignoring the way his ribs ached.

[Kuroo:] Sure ya dont need me to come today? You took a beating last night so I wouldnt mind helping you move your stuff in

[Oikawa:] I know better than to let your mangey paws get on my stuff

[Oikawa:] I lost two hats last time! Two!

[Kuroo:] You said you didnt like them!? I was helping, you cant still be mad

[Oikawa:] I can and am.

Snapping the phone closed, Oikawa let his eyes slip shut. That alley cat was dumber than he looked if he thought Oikawa would fall for that trick again. They’d been partners in crime for too long for it to still work. Besides, it wasn’t like Kuroo had gotten away from their encounter with Anzen, or whatever he was called, injury-free.

The damn bastard had already joined up with another hero when he'd confronted their infamous selves in a jewelry shop, ruining two weeks' worth of planning and leaving them both roughed up. The whole incident was made worse because half his injuries were a result of Oikawa getting distracted by how hot the new hero was. It wasn’t fair!

The bus squealed to a stop, ending any hopes he had of getting more rest. It was a good thing he’d already lost his roommate for the semester so he could crash after getting all his stuff in the dorm. The school had attempted to make him room with someone, something he highly opposed.

Oikawa didn’t want anyone else sharing his space, especially not the rando the university initially tried to stick him with. One text conversation with the guy and Oikawa was convinced he’d only ever used three-in-one shampoo and body wash. That wasn’t the sort of environment Oikawa needed to be living in, it’d be bad for his skin.

Plus having a roommate wasn’t exactly conducive to keeping his nightly escapades a secret.

Convincing his no-longer roommate to request a room switch had been child’s play compared to what he usually convinced people to do. The next two roommates the university had tried to throw at him had been similarly dealt with. Thankfully, they’d stopped trying after the third person requested out within the month since room assignments were sent out.

Oikawa had already sent most of his items to the dorm and he hefted the one duffle bag he’d brought with him as he stood, waiting his turn to exit the bus. Fresh air from the open doors swirled around him, clearing the mild ache in his head as he breathed in the damp wind. Slipping into the aisle, Oikawa held his duffle close and shuffled off the bus.

Rain dripped onto his head and a shiver passed up his spine at the chill. It was far colder than it should be for the end of summer. Looking up, Oikawa narrowed his eyes and breathed out, daring any more rain to fall on his perfectly styled hair.

Naturally, the rain obeyed.

Campus bustled with activity despite the rain. Students huddled under umbrellas with maps while their mom hovered over their shoulders and their dad held the boxes, slowly getting soaked. He grinned at the girls he passed, catching their reddening faces as he threw them a wink and a wave before carrying on toward his dorm. It never hurt to start the fan club early. The suspicious glares from their fathers made it all the funnier. One last bit of family drama before the child and parent parted ways.

Coming to a stop outside his new home, Oikawa fished out his phone. Throwing up a peace sign, he smiled and snapped a photo. It needed a filter, but it’d work for today’s Insta post. Typing up a quick caption, Oikawa posted the photo and re-pocketed his phone as he turned back to the stairs.

A shoulder knocked into him and Oikawa stumbled forward, hissing as it jostled his bruised side but catching himself before he could hit the stairs. The other guy wasn’t so lucky. Books tumbled out of the box he’d been carrying and spilled onto the wet stairs.

“Sorry!” The other guy said, already scrambling to pick up his fallen items. Rain continued to fall on the books, soaking into their pages despite the guy’s best efforts. Crouching down, Oikawa picked up the books nearest him and let the faint breeze dancing around him ruffle the damp pages.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” the guy said, coming to a stop in front of Oikawa. He was kneeling on the wet pavement (wasn’t he worried about his pants?) with his unboxed books filling his arms, not an umbrella in sight. Water dripped off his dark brown hair into his matching brown eyes making him look quite similar to the many dads he’d passed on his way here. Instead of handing the books back, Oikawa took a few more off the precarious pile, earning him a confused look which he repaid with a dazzling smile as he stood.

“Need some help?” he asked as the other guy also got to his feet.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m Daichi,” the guy bobbed his head in greeting, his own smile lighting up his face. Oikawa tilted his head, eyes taking in the rest of the fairly plain-looking guy.

“Oikawa.”

“Thanks, Oikawa, but I can take it from here." He gestured to the books Oikawa was holding. Glancing down at the wet cardboard box on the ground, he raised a brow. He really doubted the guy could handle it all. Well, his mother had always said one good deed would be repaid with another.

"I'm on the top floor anyway, so I can carry them if you want," he shrugged and readjusted the books so they were easier to hold. Daichi's eyes widened.

"That's where I'm going too. Maybe we'll live near each other," Daichi grinned and started up the stairs again in lieu of accepting his offer, Oikawa trailing behind him. A drop of rain hit his shoulder, an icy shiver crawling across his skin. Breathing out, Oikawa let a few more drops of rain fall on his clothes, a warm breeze dancing around him to keep out the chill.

He couldn't exactly walk in completely dry, could he? That’d be suspicious now that someone was paying attention to him. He already regretted offering to help.

The rain still didn't dare touch his hair.

“So what’s your major?” Daichi asked as they entered the lobby and made for the elevator. Pushing the button, Oikawa leaned against the wall and shrugged.

“History, you?” It’d been his best subject in high school, something Kuroo always complained about, and it gave him plenty of time to dedicate to research without people getting suspicious about what he was looking up. Plus, it didn’t require a lot of math classes. Even thinking about that subject made Oikawa shiver.

“Biology, I want to get into Vet school in a few years,” he smiled and Oikawa realized many of the books they were holding had to do with animal anatomy. Maybe he could convince Daichi to get him some medical supplies. That might make getting his jacket wet worth it.

The elevator dinged and slid open, both of them shuffling inside along with three other students, pushing Oikawa to the back corner near the window. He watched as the ground slowly fell away, the elevator bringing them higher and higher. They stopped two times before reaching the seventh floor, Daichi and Oikawa stepping out into their new shared hall.

“What’s your room number?” Oikawa asked. Daichi fumbled for his key, nearly losing several books off the stack.

“Seven-twenty-nine,” He said, reading off the tag attached to the key and straightening out the pile. Oikawa’s eyes widened.

“I’m seven-thirty,” they wouldn’t be suitemates he noticed while walking down the hall, odds and evens were on opposite sides, but they’d still be across-the-way neighbors. What a coincidence.

Their rooms were at the far end of the hall next to the smallest of the three study/recreation rooms on this floor. Oikawa recognized his boxes piled next to the end door on the right. A door that was suspiciously open.

Kuroo wasn’t moving in until tomorrow and he hadn’t told the alley cat his room number. He could have asked someone for help figuring it out but something in his gut told Oikawa it wasn’t Kuroo he could faintly hear moving around in the room.

Had the University really given him another roommate? So much for good karma after helping Daichi.

“Looks like your roommate is already here,” Daichi commented. Oikawa hummed and set the books down next to Daichi’s door. Readjusting the strap of his duffle bag, Oikawa whirled around and came face to face with the absolute last person he’d ever expected to see again.

*************************

“What do you mean?”

“Why does the sun have to rise? Why can’t we stay out under the stars forever?”

“Aren’t you afraid of the dark?”

*************************

Painfully familiar green eyes stared at him from across the hall. For a moment, Oikawa felt like he was dreaming, like one of those nightmares that’d leave him waking up in a cold sweat even as he mourned losing them to the daylight. Why was Iwaizumi here? And why did he have to be Oikawa’s new roommate?

“Hi, I’m Daichi,” the words broke him out of the green-eyed spell he’d been under, Iwazumi looking away.

“Iwaizumi,” he bowed his head in greeting, eyes sliding back to a still frozen Oikawa. Daichi shifted next to him, shoulder gently bumping into his.

“Do you two know each other?”

“We’re childhood best-”

“Yeah, we used to live near each other,” Oikawa cut Iwaizumi off, ignoring the frown his words caused. It wasn’t a lie and it’d been too long for them to still consider each other their best friend. Even if Oikawa’s heart ached at the thought.

“Ok-ay, well, I’m going to let you two talk. Thanks again for helping with my books,” Daichi smiled at the both of them and escaped inside his room. That’s all Oikawa wanted to do right now.

So much for his plan to catch up on sleep.

Oikawa ignored Iwazumi and picked up one of his boxes, moving past the other boy to enter his new room. It was decent sized, nothing extravagant. Two twin beds sat against opposite walls, dressers situated at their ends and two desks nestled side-by-side between them in front of the double windows. To the left of the door was a closet and to the right, a sink next to the door leading to the bathroom.

Iwaizumi’s things were already scattered on the right side of the room, so Oikawa made his way to the left dresser and set his box and duffle on top. He’d have to reevaluate where to put his gear now that he had a roommate. Especially since he didn’t think Iwazumi would be as easy to run off as the other guys.

Turning around, Oikawa once again found himself face-to-face with Iwaizumi. His heart leaped to his throat. Two boxes of his stuff were in Iwazumi’s arms, something Oikawa tried very hard to not look at. He knew his type and he knew who his type was based on. No reason to torture himself. Brushing past Iwazumi, Oikawa went to pick up the remaining box and bring it inside.

“Too-” Iwaizumi paused at the glare Oikawa sent him, “Oikawa...how’ve you been?” The question came out rushed like it wasn’t what he really wanted to say. Not like Oikawa cared what he wanted to say, his mere presence was enough to bring back the memories he’d buried long ago.

It wasn’t fair. Was this karma for his extracurricular activities? Why couldn’t he separate Iwaizumi from those thoughts? Why did it have to hurt looking at him and remembering everything that’d passed?

“I’ve been great, how about you?” Oikawa said, setting the box next to the sink, a bright and oh so fake smile lighting up his face. The green of Iwaizumi’s eyes dimmed as he easily accepted the lie as truth.

Oikawa didn’t know if he should be relieved or cry.

*************************

“You make the nighttime safe, Iwa-chan.”

“But the sun still needs to rise, Tooru, you know that. Why don’t you want it to?”

“It’s not the dark I’m afraid of anymore…”

[arthurflecksgirl]

Darkness caving in *A look into ARTHUR FLECKs journal

I wrote something darker today. Its a short story which contains Arthurs writing.

Disclaimer: Suicidal thoughts & attent ,mental illness

Arthur was sitting at the table in the corner of his dark apartment. The smoke of his half gone cigarette filled the dark room. Only the dim blue lights from the kitchen made it possible to see something.

Arthur inhaled the smoke as he turned the desk light on.

Almost empty bottles of serveral different medication lying between an ashtray and his wrecked journal.

He was topless, in his pj pants and started to get cold. But he didnt had the time to get a shirt. There was no time to waste.

He had to get all of these thoughts out of himself. On the paper. Maybe then they would leave him at peace. At least for the rest of the night.

His therapist recommented it to him. Writing a journal. So he did. He wasnt sure if it helped in any way but it was easier tokeep all his jokes together this way, so he kinda started to appriciate it.

Dr Kane never really read the words he had written. She told him she would but her eyes always skipped the most important parts. She just looked over it. No real interest.

Althought the content of his diary was pretty personal, he wished someone would read it. Not only skipping though the pages.

The thought of someone paying attention to his words made made him feel warm inside. He wanted to be heard. he wanted to be listened to. Even if some of the stuff would be truly embarrassing. It would be worth it.

He was always alone with his thoughts. So alone that it felt like his own mind was attacking him sometimes. It just wouldnt leave him alone.

Every night, when he was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, darkness was caving in, coming closer. Smothering him. Not only the darkness of the room. But the darkness inside of him. It grew within him like a creature of its own. Like something he lost control over it. Day by day.

The seven different medications he took should keep the darkness from taking him in compleately. But he wasnt sure for how long this would work out anymore.

Last night he felt hands all over him.

Not hands of a beautiful girl, like he wished for.

Shapeless hands, darkness itself.

It made him shiver under his blankets and he closed his eyes and tried to imagin something that would bring him back to a better state of mind.

Your hands.

Soft and warm.

The hands of the girl that just moved in across the street.

He could see though your window when he stood behind the curtains in his kitchen.

He watched you serveral times now. When you changed your clothes. You were so beautiful. He thought about you a lot when he felt the hole in his lonely heart.

It was your hands he imagined as he shivered at night.

He has never been touched by loving hands before.

Never been hugged by anyone exept his mother.

All he ever wished for was someone to hold him at night.

Someone to keep the shapeless , grabbing hands of darkness away from his fragile body.

And your hands seemed just right for it.

He saw them when you opened and closed the window.

But deep down he knew it was only a dream to feel them across his face.

To feel them in his hair, after you kissed passionately.

It was only daydreams. Hallucinations, visions even like Dr Kane claimed.

Arthur put the cigatette down in the ashtray and started writing:

"Today I woke up and wanted to die. I don`t even know why. It was just a gut feeling that has been growing inside of me over the years. I can feel it every day. Its sitting right there on my shoulders when I take a walk outside. Its is sitting beside me when I am on the subway. Its watching me with his ugly eyes when I make dinner for my mum. Its always there,its arms tight around my feet, kicking and screaming for me to give in.

It wants me to give in. I just know it. Any maybe I should.

But then I start hearing other voices again.

Soft whispers of a girl, her breath hot against my ear. She tells me she loves me and convinces me that everything is going to be okay.

I know she isnt real but it still holds me back from doing what I should.

I mean...she is real actually. She lives across my street but she has not noticed me yet. I guess she never will. No one ever does. Not even my mother. She just keeps on talking about Thomas Wayne, thats all she seemed to be interested in. But she is in a bad condition and I guess its okay. I don`t wanna be another burden she has to carry. I guess she would be better off without me. Another reason why I should quit.

I should be used of being lonely. But its something I never get used to. It gets harder every day actually. It gets harder with age. I turn 36 soon and I feel even more miserable than ever before. I should end it. I should really end it all.

Lets be honest. The girl across my street will never even look me in the eyes. She might see me leaving the house some day, but she will just walk on by, like I wasnt even there.

Would she walk over me if I would lie there on the sidewalk?

No I guess she wouldnt. She looks very nice and caring.

Maybe she would help me get back up if I was lucky.

But thats it.

The touch of her hand helping me up would be the only chance to ever feel her soft skin on mine.

Maybe I should go out and threw myself on the street.

Hoping that she will see me from her window, before I will get hit by a tuck.

Or even better. maybe I should get hit by a fucking truck and she will see the bloody mess when she is about to go out to buy some food.

She would see me lying there and would get to me in a hurry.Trying to wake me. It would be too late but I guess she would shed a tear over me.

I know she doesnt even know who I am but she looks like someone who would shed a tear over a dead stranger, lying in front of her house.

And her empathy , her salty  tear falling upon my bloody forehead would be worth it.

Anyway.... yesterday I couldnt even distrakt myself by daydreaming about her.

So I wanted to give it a tray and made myself a hot bath.

I waited till Penny was asleep.

I even checked twice if she was.

I mixed her dinner with some of my sleeping pills, to make sure she won`t wake up and use the bathroom while I was trying to kill myself.

I couldnt handle the thought of her seeing this.

It would look like I am asleep when she finds me in the morning, so this should be okay.

I didnt wanted to break her heart but as I said, she is better off without me. Everyone is.

I can`t connect to other people. I tried it all my life but it just won`t happen.

I try to make them laugh, tell them jokes, bring them flowers,...

But it never works.

So why try over and over again?

I am just sick of this.

And a bathtub full of hot water would do its duty.

So... I tip toed to the bathroom, shut the door quietly and got rid of my clothes.

A last look into the mirror.

My skinny  body is starting to freeze. The room is cold.

My ribs are popping out where my skin is bruised all over.

They kicked the shit out of me a week ago.

The good thing is... it won`t happen again.

My fingers wandered across my hollow belly.

I havent eaten for days.

I looked fragile.

How could the girl ever love a man looking like this?

I bet she gets laid with some kind of buff guy, with stong arms.

Its hard to look at my own reflection.

Green eyes starred back at me.

Kinda intense.

I expected them to look empty.

They didn`t.

The look I gave myself scared me in a way.

Like my very own eyes are asked me what the fuck am I doing here.

That I shoud turn off the water and get back to sleep.

But sleep would not happen.

Only shapeless , cold hands again.

Black shadowns against my pale skin.

The only sleep I could ever find is right there...

I looked at the bathtub, which I could also see in the mirror. It was almost filled now.

It was time.

The last look I dedicated to the scar on my upper lip.

My cheekbones.

My brown, sweaty hair.

Bye Arthur Fleck.

I turned around and  put my right foot into the water. It was painfully hot.

Pain is good. I wanted to feel something.

The left foot followed, so as the rest of my bony body.

I layed down.

The hot water like an embrace.

The warm embrace I never experienced with another person.

With the girl I love.

It felt like a thousand hands loving me all at once.

"Love me" I whispered into the dark bathroom.

I took a close look at my own hands.

I think I never looked at them closely before.

They were destined to touch someones body.

To hold someones face between them. Gently. While kissing the one that lets me love her.

But i just couldnt make it happen.

I`m a freaking looner.

Nothing more than that.

A freak maybe. First of all a freak.

A silent whimper escaped my lips right before I let my head sunk under the water.

The feeling of being under water gave me comfort.

Even more comfort than crawling into the fridge.

Its like being locked up.

The outside world cant hurt you anymore.

Thats why I actually liked being at Arkham.

A cage can be comforting.

But you don`t need a cage anymore, after you left your body.

I would be free soon.

I felt the urge to get up.

Now comes the hardest part I thought.

I felt the pressure in my lungs.

But I would`t get up.

I wanted it to end.

My ears shut. So as the voices in my head. It became quiet now.

So quiet.

Is this what peace feels like?

My chest started to hurt

And as the burning sets in I heard her voice calling me.

"Arthur, come back!"

No, I wont listen to another hallucination again.

"Arthur, please! I need you to notice me"

I know how it feels like to remain unnoticed.

Bubbles coming out of my mouth.

"What if I could actually love you, Artie? What if I would hold you in my arms forever and I can`t cuz you had to kill yourself first?"

Sounds convincing. I had to admit.

"What if I was just as lonely as you and we are meant for each other?"

What if actually?

The burning gets worse. My lungs feel like they are about to burst.

More bubbles.

I open my eyes underwater.

And there she was.

I saw her beautiful shape standing in fron of the bathtub. Her arms streched out for me.

My vision was blurry but I still saw that she looked WORRIED.

Because of me.

I could tell she was about to cry.

The tear came into my mind.

The tear falling upon my bloody forehead.

The one I couldnt  have felt anymore.

Whats the point of a tear you cant feel anymore?

The point of being loved when you never knew you were loved?

What if there is the slightest chance that someone sees me?

I felt her arms grabbing me, lifting my tiney body out of the bathtub.

I was gasping for air, coughing.

Her face above me as I lay on the cold floor.

"You`re cold,Arthur" she smiled in the cutest way and covered my shaking body with a bathrobe, stroking my wet hair out of my face.

"You`re beautiful" I whispered with shaking lips.

"So as you, Arthur. I`m glad you?re back!"

"You are?"

Silence.

Black out.

I woke up naked on the bathroom floor.

No bathrobe to protect me from the cold.

The bathtub still full of water.

I felt weak while I stood up. My skinny legs unstable.

Then I started to remember it again.

I wanted to end me.

But there was this girl.... the girl from across the street.

She...

I guess it was just another vision i had.

I put my underwear  and PJ pants back on, walking into the kitchen, made some coffee. Light a cigarette and watched out the window.

Same old world.

But then... the girl just left the house.

I dont know why but I headed out of the house in a sec, still in my PJ.

I stood across the street and watched her.

She looked like an angel.

So soft and beautiful.

There was something about her smile.

"Sir?" my heart skipped a beat as I realized she was looking at me.

"Sir, can I ask you something?" she walked towards me, bright eyes.

"Y....yes sure?!" I mumbled.

"I dont know if you are aware but I just moved in some weeks ago and I dont know anyone here in the neighborhood..." she seemed kinda shy, which i really liked.

"I dont usually do this... its kinda embarrassing" she laughed.

"No...no...its okay... what is it?"

"Well... I was watching you for quite a time now...." she was looking at the ground, then back into my eyes  "And... well... I´d love to get to know you better. I was dreaming about you yesterday.... oh god I shouldnt have said that.... I am so sorry.... but I couldnt get you out of my mind ever since." she blushed.

"Are you....serious?"

She smiled "Yeeahhh. Oh yes I am. I just wondered if you would go out on a date with me. there I said it"

She offered me her hand  "I am Y/N"

"I`m Arthur"

I touched her hand.

Her hand !

Skin on skin.

I felt a tear running down my cheek.

A tear I could still feel.

Just like her hand.

"Arthur? Are you crying?"

I sqeezed her hand and felt happiness for the first time in my life.

"Oh Y/N .... Don´t you worry about that!"

THE END

[bitchfitch]

angsty dnd npc character study

The Winter King wore the face of the man that The Boar King loved. The Boar focused on those familiar features, on the night sky black skin and the ivory fangs in his smile. The way his horns curled and his pointed ears twitched every now and then under the weight of his many piercings. If he focused on all the little familiarities this ordeal would be significantly less painful.

***

"You summoned?" Winter smirked, the playful light in his eyes and tone was something a lot crueler than it was warm. Nothing was warm about him. Nothing had been for a very long time.

"I just wanted to speak to you," The Boar knew this was an awful idea, one that would bring him nothing but pain, but he missed his husband so much that he was willing to put up with the entity that stole him away.

"Oh," the smug look that crossed his face was almost enough to call this off, it was to glaringly not right. A throne of ice rose from the ground to catch Winter as he sat. Boar focused on how he sat. His movements were always performative, he would cross his long legs and twist just right to look as alluring as he could.

Boar couldn't help but focus in on where Winter's ribs showed, all the sharp lines that were covered by soft fat when he was still the Boar's.

"Now, what would you like to speak about? You know I'm all ears for a voice as nice as yours," Winter cocked his head, his soft silver white hair always seemed to cascade in just the right way.

"How are you doing?" It was a simple question.

"Hm? That's all you have to ask?" the disappointed pout was almost enough to make the boar cave, it was the same one his husband used anytime he wanted something. The pout disappeared only to be replaced with a frown, "This is about Him isnt it?"

"Maybe, Just answer the question,"

"I'm fine, he's dead."

"Winter King-"

"You know there are kinder ways to turn someone down? You don't need to rub in the fact that you dont return a smidgen of the affection I hold for you. It's not even my fault I have the awful feelings for you, they're holdovers from that weak and hot blooded Thing that came before me."

"He wasnt weak, he fought you off for decades."

"He didn't Need to. He and I could have coexisted, but No, he wanted to burn me up, so I froze him."

"Does that imply he's still in there somewhere?"

"He may as well not be, Do you have anything of worth to ask of me? or may I return to my duties? I have better things to do than to cater to you,"

"I do have one other thing to ask,"

"Ask it."

"Won't you let me hold my husband? Just for a few minutes, even if it's just pretend,"

"Boar, you are pushing your luck something awful. Why should I let you touch me? Because that is what you are asking. Your husband is gone, hes not here, I'm Not Him."

"I know," the boar said quietly, "I know, and it hurts me to no end… But I still hear him in your laugh, and I see him in the tricks you play, and your temper is firmly his too, but he always knew how to control it. You hold yourself like he did when he was scarred to be open. You both lay on the charm and the appeal when you want to hide in plain sight, to be looked at but not seen. I refuse to believe you two are separate, or at least as distant from each other as you say you are."

"You're wrong," his voice was low and full of hurt, the crystalline tears that formed in the corners of his gold and black eyes was all the boar needed for proof. Even if it did hurt to see his love cry.

"You said it yourself, Winter, that the feelings you hold for me are not yours. If you still have his affections and his taste in clothing and music and his sense of humor… How can you two be separate? I believe you are merely an evolution of him, just the next step,"

"Shut up," he wiped away the tears freezing on his cheeks, "You're Wrong. I'm not him. He was weak and he ignored his fate and fought it so hard that we became This."

"He wasn't weak, he was scared,"

"It was his fault she died, it was his fault we had to manifest so quickly. If he'd accepted his crown, his place in the court, we would have been one. Not this awful double personality garbage."

"Maybe you two could work together now? Winter King, if you are him, all my affection is for you. You want that right? To come home and sleep in our bed again? To stay in your tower-"

"And watch the sunset. To visit Mama and see my sisters and my brother, and our friends, and-" he cut off as he sobbed, the boar went to him in an instant, his husband always wanted to be held when he was vulnerable like this, to feel safe. Winter seemed no different.

The frost of his touch bit through the Boars clothes, but that didn't matter, not right now anyways. He held the fey king as the smaller creature cried, his long fingers fisted in the fabric of the Boar's tunic,

"And our kids?" The boar finished the thought for Winter.

"Yeah, dammit, I want to hold them again. Fuck they're all grown up now arnt they?" he curled closer as the boar took his weight and sat them both down on the forest floor infront of the rapidly melting throne, "I didn't get to see my own babies grow up,"

"They are, you would be so proud of them if…"

"If I wasn't a danger to them?"

"Yeah,"

they sat there quietly, the Boar ran his hand through Winter's hair as Winter's sobs calmed into shakey breaths.

"Take me home?" he hid his face in the Boar's shirt, those quiet words more a begging plea than a true question, "Please? Just for tonight, Please?"

"Of course," The Boar stood and he hated how light Winter felt in his arms.

The Boar's castle hadn't stood above ground in centuries, instead he preserved its rooms deep within the soil of his forest. The entrance opened for them as the Boar carried Winter through.

The Boar rarely stayed here anymore. he couldn't stand the way his mind filled the silent halls with laughter and music, how at every turn he always expected to see his darling disappearing around a corner and giggling as he tried to start a game.

Their room was untouched, and had been for many many years, the bed felt like a grave anytime he drew near.

It didn't feel as awful as he set Winter down on it, the sight of him there being enough to soothe over long fraught nerves. This was where he belonged, where the Boar could keep him safe from everything outside of the canopy of the bed.

Winter sat up and curled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his tail flicked, "I used to love this room," he mused,

"You did, you liked how warm it was, and the fact that there arnt any windows made you feel safe," He sat on the opposite edge of the bed, and even that had felt like he was pushing his luck,

"I can't sleep outside of my domain," Winter grimaced, "I wish I could wake up here in the morning, do you think that would fix me?"

"I don't exactly follow,"

"Do you think being home and away from the court would fix me? Would it make him come back?" his tone was solemn and pained.

"Winter, I do not know,"

"Would you ever miss me?"

"What?"

"When you get him back, and I'm gone, would you miss me? or mourn me for even a second?"

"Winter, you are him, I won't miss you because you wouldn't have gone anywhere,"

"That's bullshit."

"No, it's not,"

"It is, because he and I cant exist together, but you want him. Not me, and-" he had to wipe away his tears again, "And I love you, but you cant love me. Because you don't even See me, you only see him. You won't mourn me when I'm gone, nobody will. My death will be celebrated and then I will be forgotten,"

The Boar didn't know what to say,

"Just, give me tonight. Let me pretend for tonight,"

"Of course,"

[authorofdanger]

Reason Of Survival Part 2

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Violence, Abuse, And Slight Gore.

Stray Kids Mafia AU

The intense pressure and chill of the shower stung against my body as one of the guards sprayed me down with a water hose. I sat there as still as I could to try to make this go as quick as possible but time seemed to drag on for years before my naked body was wrapped in a tattered towel and I was tossed a clean pair of spandex shorts and a sports bra that were off shades of black.

While I struggled to get my clothes on I could hear Jeongin's screams as he fought against the guards that were cleaning him. "Don't fucking touch me! Leave me alone!" He would just be better off staying quiet and put on an act as if nothing bothered him like he does with me. Now that I think about it I wonder which side of him is the facade? Is it the brave young man that he shows me or is it the scared child he appears to be to the guards? Maybe overtime these two sides will merge into one, or possibly only one side will remain. How will this trauma effect him in a few days, weeks, or even years?

"Move runt," a guard growled before pulling me out of the shower rooms and back into my now cleaned cell where one of the cell doctors was waiting for me. This one was still relatively new to the underground after being kidnapped as she was leaving her job from a small hospital. She appeared to be no older than twenty-three and had long brown hair that was slicked back into a tight ponytail. She always treats her patients with a form of delicacy and kindness that has caused me to firmly believe she is the only good worker here.

"How are you today Y/N? You took a pretty bad beating last night?" I simply nodded my head and sighed "broken wrist and nose, possible cracked ribs, nothing crazy. My cell mate wrapped my wrist but-" "I have a brace you can wear for now," she interrupted while reaching into her medical bag and pulling out a small black wrist brace. "Its nothing grande but it should help right? Mind if I take a look?" I held out my arm to her and sucked in a sharp breath as her fingers ran around the swollen area. "I'm sorry! I'll try to be quick okay?" I watched how she slipped the brace over my hand to cover my wrist and how she had adjusted it to fit snug against my injury. "So this cell mate of yours? He's that new boy they took from one of the rivals?"

"You know about that?" She tilted her head to the side while a slight chuckle escaped her lips. "How could I not? I'm around the guards and upper ground workers all day every day. I know everything I guess." It was then that Jeongin was shoved in with his new attire of a thin black shirt and black joggers that appeared stretched and wrinkled from being manhandled. It wasn't the state of his clothes that shocked me but it was the puffiness and shade turning of his left eye and the way he held his head before slightly stumbling to the ground. I was just barely able to grab him in time to soften his landing and I noticed how I was holding my breath after he tried to squirm from my hold.

"Jeongin what happened," I asked while examining his head for blood where he was holding. "Jeongin? I'm Dr.Park can you hear me?" I let out a small sigh of relief when he said "loud and clear Doc. Dont worry I just had my head bashed into the shower floor and a fist to the face, nothing a little ice cant fix, or sleep." After a few moments of us making sure it would be safe for him to sleep I let his head rest on my thigh and his arms wrap around my leg while I gently scratched the back of his neck.

"You two really have gotten close in a short time frame," she chuckled before making one more adjustment to my wrist brace. "He's a kid Chae-" "Rosè," she corrected. "Anyways Rosè the boy is still young. He doesnt belong in this world."

"You really dont know much about his line of work do you," she chuckled, "dont let his age fool you Y/N. Honestly I think there is more to him then what we can see. Dont worry about him more then you worry about yourself alright? Now rest up for selections, starts in an hour you know?"

*****

It's like being pigs lined up for slaughter. The Boss brought in his best fighters while the rivals brought there's to examine all of us. One by one we were all being drafted and scheduled. I stood as tall as I could and let no emotion graze my face as I was touched and analyzed by other greasy men and women. The women were by far the worst, having no shame in getting into detail about the people they were selecting. One of them was pinning me up against one of her strongest women, the prize for if she won would be to take me as her slave. Another woman wanted me as a fighter of her own after seeing my past records. By the end of it I would end up fighting against three girls and two guys in the ring.

"Hey Red what about that District Nine boy you recently captured?" My eyes shot over to the boss as a warning glance. He knows very well that I am willing to take out a leader if threatened since I've done it once before, giving him the entirety of the dead man's team. "He is not up for debate. You pick the fight with who I am giving available or you can leave," he yawned while leaning back in his chair. Taking a long drink of his coffee I could see the look he was giving me through the rim of his mug, he was watching my every reaction and most likely was going to use it against me.

I pulled my gaze off of him and put my attention back on my opponents. Most of them seemed to be on my level in terms of body size and determination but one was going to be an obvious challenge. At nearly two times my height and his arms larger then my head you could tell his owner put all the eggs in one basket, rightfully so. He was a beast that could kill me in one hit if I'm not careful and the boss knew it. But I knew I was going to win, I had to win! "Let's plan these matches for two days from now. Be here no later then nine, after that its forfeit and I will claim my prize by midnight," the boss sneered, "dont test my patience."

And with that I was taken to the gym area where Jeongin sat patiently between two guards on the bench press. "So this is the punk you are fighting for," one of the other fighter's asked. "What's it to you Lau? Last I checked you only worry about yourself." "Just curious as to see who is putting you in extra shit," he chuckled before going to the weights to work on his arms and core. "Just ignore him Y/N. You know he doesnt mean anything by it," Amber encouraged with a pat on the back. Even though i know she is right there is still a part of me that wants to knock his teeth in but i will refrain for now.

"So how bad is it," Jeongin asked once i got over to him. "Nothing i cant handle. Get up so i can use this." The guards moved away from the two of us and Jeongin moved to sit on the floor and watch as I got to work. My usual routine would be to work on my strength for around twenty minutes, stamina for fifteen, and then a few other various things for the rest of the hour before we would be dragged back to the showers and get fed in our cages.

"I wonder how well you would fight against Changbin," he mumbled to himself as I continued to lift some weights and then moved over to the pull up bar. "Changbin," I asked behind shallow breaths as I pulled up all of my body weight. "He is the main fighter of Stray Kids." "Big dude," I asked but was only responded to by a fit of laughter.

"If you consider around one hundred and sixty seven centimeters in height tall then sure he is a 'big dude,' but to the rest of us he isn't. But dont let his height fool you, the man is a beast." Rolling my eyes I took a small glance around the room to see most of the others were watching us. Some with pure curiosity while others had more of jealousy burning in their eyes. One man in particular gave the most menacing look. "You got a problem Hongbin," I growled before landing on my feet. He let out a tight scoff as he approached us. "Maybe I do. What makes you so special that you dont have to do shit," he asked as he shoved Jeongin back by his chest.

I was quick to get between the two and land a quick blow to his neck, knocking him to his knees. "Fucking touch him again I dare you," I spat, "anyone else got a fucking problem or can we mind our own business here?" All the eyes that watched intensely earlier immediately shot away from us. Once Hongbin was stumbling back to his feet I knew there would be blood in a matter of minutes. His face was red with a few veins showing here and there and his fists were balled. His anger was always quick to get to him ever since he was assigned to the ring, honestly I cant blame him.

His hand found it's way to my throat and he shoved me into the mirror where my head would slam hard enough to break part of the glass. Everyone in the room froze as I let out a small laugh. "You think I wont put your ass in place because of your fighting status," he growled after he took a swing at my face. My already broken nose stung while the rest of my face began to numb letting me know that it was either fight or get my ass handed to me. I was quick with my hands and yanked a shard of glass from the mirror and shove it into his left hand, forcing him to drop me before I kicked him back and swung my leg around to knock him off of his feet. I grabbed him by his scalp and dragged him over to where our weighted belts and jump ropes were and then proceeded to whip him with the smallest rope we had. After a few seconds he was back to his feet and racing towards me but I was able to barely dodge him and throw a weighted ball at his leg.

In a flash I noticed a body leap ontop of him and hit his head hard with a dumbbell, successfully knocking him out. Jeongin shoved the dead weight off of him and gave me a huge grin as he got back up. "Is he always that aggressive," he asked as if nothing happened. Maybe Rosè was right, maybe I shouldn't worry so much about him.

*****

"You two really do enjoy causing problems dont you," boss asked while his guards tied us to the wooden chairs. I know the rules at this point, stay silent and dont look him in the eyes. If you make yourself look small he will go easy on you but the tougher you act the tougher the punishment.

Jeongin doesnt quite grasp this concept and decided to thrash and fight the guards while yelling at everyone in the room. "He started it! She was defending herself! Leave her alone!" A firm grasp yanked my gaze from the floor and into a pair of ice cold eyes. "Seems someone has gotten attached to our little mutt," he spat. His grip grew tighter by the second until my jaw was forced open and painfully pried to its limits. "Maybe you should pay for his constant running mouth." My heart was beating a million beats a minute and I let out small whimpers as he begins to push and pull on my jaw lightly. When he began to get rougher with me i couldnt help the painful cries i was letting out, knowing he was trying to dislocate my jaw in the most painful way he could. My eyes screwed shut and i just prayed that it would be quick and it be my only punishment. "Stop it! Let her go! Please!"

"Maybe I should make you two an example. Untie them and throw him in his cell. She goes in the empty one beside him and I want her hands tied to the ceiling." Finally releasing my sore but intact jaw I felt my body get ripped from the seat and bonds and was being pulled by my hair while Jeongin had to be escorted by three guards. "Why are you acting so small? I've seen you fight Y/N so do it!"

Soon he will understand, there are times to be big and times to be small. Over the years I have learned what to do for each situation and right now I had to be small and pliant.

As we entered our hall I heard the nervous cries and mumbles that bounces off the walls and was harshly thrown into the cell next to the one Jeongin was shoved into. The guards all came in and roughly bounded my hands and hung me to where my toes only brushed the ground. My shoulders were screaming in agony along with the wrist that I injured now even days ago.

"Y/N fight back," he pleaded while trying to reach for me only for a guard to step on his hand. "Stop it Jeongin," I cried, "please just stop." He was only making this worse for the both of us. I was baring both punishments for severely injuring Hongbin and his constant pleading wasn't helping anything.

The boss came in with a few of his favorite tools. His whip, a few knives, and a few things I havent quite seen before. The whip was the first thing he reached for with a crooked grin on his face. "The punishment would have only been ten but since you decided to take on anything for this little nuisance that makes it twenty right?"

"Y-yes sir," i stammered. Leaning my head away and shutting my eyes I took in a deep breath to try and calm my tensing nerves but as soon as the first strike hit there was no way of relaxation. It started on my thighs, and then my back, and finally to my chest. The stinging never left and my vision blurred from the tears I couldnt even try to hold back. My throat was becoming raw from my cries but behind it all I could hear Jeongin yelling like a mad man.

The knives were for the whip's markings that didnt dig into my skin, he loved to mark me knowing that i would always remember the night i received that specific mark. My skin was numbing at this point and I couldn't keep my head up. For a while everything stopped and i believed it was over until a shearing pain dug into my shoulder blade and two guards held me in place. The smell of burning flesh was filling my nose and the slight hiss was barely heard. I was being branded.

When the punishment was finally over they didnt even bother getting the rope off of my wrist but they tossed my limp body where Jeongin sat helplessly. I let out a small cry at the slightest touch, body too sensitive to want any human contact at all. Soon the rope was gently pulled off of me and I was pulled into a shaking embrace.

"Chan where are you," he whispered as I fell into darkness.

[tum-blrb]

Sam gets too hungry after his B.E.E.S.T. injection.

Fifteen burgers sounded like a lot. But for some reason today it sounded like a reasonable amount. The first two were still warm when Sam pulled them out of the bag. He had a lot on his mind. And ate absantly as he thought.

The first thing was Sadie. She was just pleasent to think about. She nestled comfortably in his mind amid the comic books and videogames. But he found her refreshing because she was real.

The second thing was project B.E.E.S.T. Had it been a good idea to take the injection? He had heard a few members were sick this morning. That one kid, Konrad had a migraine so bad that he couldn't identify colors. And the two wolf boys were nauseated by the smell of everything at breakfast. Sadie had complained about blurry vision and Moby...well Moby seemed a bit off anyway.

Sam was fine though. He was just uncharacteristicly hungry. He reached for in the bag for his third burger but only felt about four leaft.

He broke eye contact with his computer screen just long enough to notice he was getting a little full. But his brain told him he was still hungry.

So Sam unwrapped another like warm burger eating around the outside to save the best part for last.

Was this his fourth or fifth? It didn't matter he was still kinda snacking. His stomach gave a little rumble encouraging him to slowdown.

The repetitive taste of cold grizzled meat and lack of pickles was making it hard to swallow the dry bites of burger. He pealed off the top bun and balancing the burger on his chest while he applied catchup and mustard. The next bite hit a little hard. By his seventh burger he was starting to feel a food baby kicking inside. The churning in his belly released a hard belch.

*Blurp*

That felt better. Somewhat less sluggish now he reached for burger number eight. How could he possibly be this hungry? He decided to Google sea otters diet to see if he could isolate the cause of his growly sounds.

A thick bight of the burger slid down his throat uneasily. His belly was about the size of canelop now. And about as juicy as one too. It slaushed as he adjusted in his chair, brushing the crumbs off his hoody.

He hadn't been this bloated since the time his grandpa made him try whale blubber.

He didn't have to do much scrolling to discover the reason for his insatiable need to eat. As it turned out Sea Otters have huge appetites and have to eat at least twenty five percent of their body weight.

A louder more bubbly burp squeased its way out of his belly and he gave his tired stomach a little pat.

Should he be eating this much? Maybe this was survival now. But the ninth burger sat in his stomach like a rock. His belly gurgled angerly.

For some stupid reason he thought it might settle if he pushed that tenth burger down his throat. Perhaps this achy grumble was from the new found to eat a quarter of his body weight.

His stomach muscles trembled and his chest began to fill acidic air.

*glurup*

"Ugh. God I'm full."

His stomach continued to burble and churn and he dropped the remaining half of burger 11 back in the bag. He was pretty sure if not eating proportionately to a sea otter would kill him. Eating as much as they eat would kill him first.

He stood from his chair, stretched, and instantly regreted it. He doubled over clutching the heavy knot in his stomach.

*ggggllllluuurrrrppl*

He could taste that let burger on the back of his tongue and held a fist in front of his mouth until he was sure it was all the way down

The bed in his room was small but at least he didn't have to share it with anyone. He gently sat down on the edge of his bed, and eased into the mattress.

Laying on his back made it feel like his ribs were being crushed. Laying on his side made his stomach gurgle mercilessly. And laying on his stomach was the worst position he could have chosen.

*urp.*

God these tiny burps were doing nothing to settle his stomach. He needed an anti acid, maybe two antacids.

Clutching his now sour stomach he made his way over to suitcase to check his medicine supply.

Suddenly he heard a knock at the door. Wincing as he got to his feet he limped over to it. His stomach felt enormous though it wasnt much bigger than a small melon.

Sadie stood with her arms crossed on the pther side of the door.

"Hey Sam. Have you seen Kinu? She's supposed to be my room mate."

Sams face puckered and he put a fist to his mouth.

"Hrp. No."

"You okay? I know that injection did a number on some people."

Sam's lower lip tightend on the verge of gagging.

"I just ate eleven burgers." He said said trying to hold them down. "*hic* excuse me."

"Well let me know if I need to get out of the way."

Sam looked embarrassed and the noisy grumble pounding in his tummy didn't make him feel much cooler.

"I'm fine." He choked. "Do you have any antacids?" Bubbly groans were coming from all parts of his stomach now.

"I can go check." Sadie offered.

Why had he thought that was a good idea? His belly made a glorping noise as he collapses on the bed.

*Hic* "Oohhh my tummy." He whimpered under his breath. It twisted and rumbled under his palm threatening to explode. *hic*

The knock came again but this time Sadie didnt wait for an answer. "Here. She said handing him a bottle of water and an Alcaseltzer.

"Thanks." He took the pill quickly chugging the water to activate it. The face he made told Sady that the taste was less pleasent. He smacked his lips.

"Anything else I can do?" She asked hopefully.

"Nah. This was plenty." As an after thought he added "did you ever find your room mate?"

"Yea. She's in their on the phone."

"You can stay in here then if you want." A massive belch pushed its way out of Sam. "Sorry." He said sheepishly.

"Wow your stomach really is upset." Sadie observed the uproarious gurgling.

*hic* "Hrp. Eleven burgers will do that to a guy." His said with a bit of a nauseous groan.

Almost absantly Sadie reached out one hand to gently massage Sam's unfortionate tummy.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked. His stomach was grumbling even more fiercely now which was causing him a little pain.

"Sorry." She jerked her hand back. "I wasn't-"

"No it. It felt good." Sam took her hand and gently placed it back on top of his swollen tummy.

*Gluuuuurrrppp* "Oof. Excuse me again." Sam rubbed at his stomach as it adjusted to the found space.

"Is it helping?" Sadie asked gently.

"Eh. Still feel a tad sick." Sam admitted. "There is alot of food in here right now." A wet groan in his belly surfaced and a guttural burp. He was getting tired of excusing himself.

"Your poor stomach." Sadie said giving it a little pat.

*glurp.* "Ooft. Its not so bad." Sam tried to assure her.

"I mean sure it feels like I'm some kids science fair project but I ~errrruuupp~mmm ive dealt with worse."

"Cant imagine it gets much worse than eleven burgers packed into that tiny gut."

The juices in his belly swished and whirled around. It reminded him of being a kid and tring to slurp the melted syrup out of the bottom of a freeze pop.

"I think I'm gonna try to get some sleep." Sam said burping inside in yawn. "My stomach needs a rest." His insides gave an audible agreement.

"All right. Rommie's probably off the phone any way. At least she better be. Take it easy trouble."

"Oh believe me I will."

"I hope you feel better." Sadie said as ahe closed the door.

With her around. Sam some how knew he would.