#anyways im half asleep so this might be incoherent

[lottieurl]

one of my controversial opinions is i won't stop using the word narcissist in a way its been used my whole life because of a psychiatric label/diagnosis that shouldn't be called that in the first place

[vigilvntes]

Ok so, we've all agreed Adrian is a kinky lil switch and that Adrian likes being slapped around a lil bit right? If he likes being hit by his partner, he might like hitting back...on that note PLEASE share any hcs and thots you have on Adrian + spanking when he's in the more dominant mode.

I just. I just want this man to wreck me, okay? It's all I think about anymore.

NSFW Adrian Chase + spanking hcs

ohohohoho it's a long time since we got horny about adrian on this blog so let's fucking gooooo also im sorry if these hcs are just incoherent ramblings i'm like half asleep rn 💀💀💀

warnings: spanking, piv sex, dom!adrian, cockwarming, tiny bit of knife play

adrian is an ass man, okay. hear me out. he loves everything about you, and i mean EVERYTHING. there wouldn't be a single thing on your body or about you that he doesn't love and worship. face, neck, stomach, waist, hips, thighs, legs, ass, tits he loves all of it. but put him on the spot quick fire question tits or ass he would say ass with zero hesitation. at his core, he is an ass man. that's who he is deep down.

it's ACCESSIBLE, y'know. he can see your ass in pretty much anything you're wearing. he can stare at it, touch it, grab it whenever he wants and no one has to know. although people probably do know, especially the team. like they'll definitely catch him slipping his hand behind your back just to get a grab on your ass. or if you're preparing for a mission and you're stood with your back to him, he'll definitely be ignoring everything harcourt is saying in favour of staring right at your ass ("adrian are you listening?" "huh-oh-what-uh yeah, stick to the left?" "i said that five minutes ago")

and as you said dear anon, he's a kinky lil shithead switch who loves to be slapped around a little while you're in control. like if you slapped his face, during sex or not, he'd probably cum in his pants then and there. he's a little bit fucking feral. and i mean, he spends most of his nights out on patrol murdering people for doing graffiti so i have no doubt in my mind that he likes inflicting pain as much as he likes receiving it.

i think at first he'd be very hesitant. you know he's totally okay with being slapped during sex, in fact he encourages it, but i can't help but feel like he'd feel kind of shy about asking you if you're into anything like that, so he kind of puts it off. i think the first time he spanks you would probably be total accident.

so the two of you are going at it. adrian has been in control all night, maybe you've been kind of bratty and he's fucking you to put you in your place. he's railing you from behind and you're letting out the most delicious noises he's ever heard, because this is what you wanted and he's letting you get your own way but he doesn't care. he just loves being inside of you anyway, but the way you were practically begging for his attention all night, dying for him to fuck you into the mattress, it's really got him going. he has a weird praise-degradation thing going on, too. he's calling you his "pretty little whore" and everything along those lines. maybe he asks you to tell him that you're his slut, maybe you refuse because <3 bratty <33 and you wanna rile him up even more <3. and then he just,, brings his hand down on to your ass in a harsh slap. i honestly think he'd be so ready to apologise immediately, like i think he would feel so guilty at first, but then he'd realise that you just let out the dirtiest moan he's ever heard, and then he'd have to fight the urge to cum immediately.

once he realises that you're into spanking you're done oh god oh fuck you're DONE he'd be slapping your ass at every given opportunity like man. he'd be so obsessed.

obviously the first thing that would happen is you'd come up with a safe word, probably something stupid ("babe, it has to be something we'd never say during sex. like penguin. or batman's bigger")

oh man he could go for hours, just to listen to your little mewls and watch your ass turn bright red with every slap. he'd make sure that his handprint is fucking etched into your ass every single time because he's possessive like that <3

i think one of his favourite things would be you on your front between his legs, completely naked, with your hips in his lap. he could sit there for hours, bringing his hand down on to your ass and telling you how well you're taking it and how good you're being for him (because although he's totally into impact play, i don't think he's a hard dom, he's definitely on the softer side). you'd be able to feel his hard cock in his jeans pressed against your cunt and you'd be trying to grind down on him without him noticing because you're so needy and you want him so bad, but you can't be fucked until he's finished spanking you. if you try and get off, he'll make it last longer. it'd be torture for him, too, to not just lay you down and fuck you senseless or let you straddle him and ride him until you cum but he just fucking loves the noises you make whenever he brings his hand down on your ass, quiet moans and mewls and surprised whimpers because you're not facing him so you have no idea when his hand is raised 😵‍💫😵‍💫

he'd love to hear you begging him, pleading with him that you've been so good for him and that you've taken every spank he's given you and that you deserve to be fucked. ("do you?" "yes, please, fuck, i've been so good" "hm, i don't think so, baby" you'd pout at him and he'd definitely pout back mockingly). and he would make you BEG for it. you'd have to praise him, really boost his ego to convince him of how much you want him inside of you.

honestly once he decides that you've been good enough, he's probably so soft and gentle because like i said he can be dom but he's not a hard dom. he'd be praising you and touching you with such care. he'd have you ride him while he caresses your hips and rubs his hands on your ass soothingly. or if you're too tired he'd fuck you slowly and lovingly, burying his face in your neck and kissing you softly and reminding you that you've been so, so good for him. he'd let you cum as many times as you want, too, just for being so patient.

oh he'd love to bend you over his knee as punishment 😵‍💫 like OKAY you're with the team, and you just keep riling him up. bending over in front of him, wiggling your ass a little. chris probably sees this happen too and that probably pisses him off even more. your hand on his thigh at the table during the debrief, inching further towards his cock but never quite touching him and you're giving him the eyes the whole time, batting your lashes at him and biting your lip. he knows you're trying to wind him up, and he isn't impressed, you can tell by his tense jaw and the side eyed glance he keeps giving you. the drive home would be so tense and he'd be practically shoving you into the apartment, wasting no time in sitting himself down on the couch and bending you over his knee, pulling your bottoms and panties down to your thighs. "this is what you wanted, huh?" He'd just smile at you while you writhe and moan under him, taking spank after spank. he'd love the way your cheeks flush, the way you tears fall down your cheeks as you beg him for mercy because you can't take it anymore and you just want to be fucked 😵‍💫 you have to stay still and take it, if he catches you wiggling your ass or trying to tempt him in any way he'll keep you there longer

although adrian is feral so i think how long he keeps you in his lap, how long he waits until he fucks you would vary because you're so cute and he's so fucking hard because of you but he also just wants to keep you in his lap forever and listen to you whimper

definitely the kind to ask how many slaps you think you deserve ("only 10? i'm thinking more than that, honey") and he'd make you count each and every one of them too. ("how many was that? come on, sweetheart, use your words and maybe you'll get what you want")

also uh. cockwarming. this isnt rly relevant to the topic but it kinda is but also it isn't oh well i just gotta get this off of my chest. so picture this. you're bored, he's sat on the couch sharpening his knives. you want his attention, and he's giving you some of it, but you want all of it. you want more, if you know what i mean. so you're doing everything you possibly can to wind him up and get him all riled up. sighing, making snide comments, stealing his knives from his hand, just being overall bratty. and he's being weirdly calm about it, and he asks you what you want so you quietly tell him that you want him inside of you. to your surprise, he lets you straddle his waist and sink yourself down on to his cock. you're about to roll your hips against him, to bounce yourself on his cock until you cum, but he won't let you do that. he tells you that you have to be good for him and be patient if you want to cum. if you try and fuck yourself on his cock or touch yourself he'd bring his hand down harshly on your ass, and warn you to behave, telling you that he's already showing you kindness by letting you sit on his cock. and like, the whole time he'd still have his knives in his hand, he'd still be sharpening them up while you're in his lap. and ugh, if you tried to get yourself off he uh. he might press the cold metal of the knife against your ass. he'd never cut you or anything like that, but just as a warning 😵‍💫😵‍💫

low-key a brat tamer

he'd be the BEST at aftercare. he'd be ready and willing to serve and tend to your every need and want because he loves you so much and you've been so good for him <33 he'd stay awake for hours just to make sure that you're okay, just in case you wake up and need anything. he'd cook for you or order your favourite food, put your favourite movie on and pull you into his arms, run his fingers through your hair or stroke your back gently. he'd rub soothing gel/cocoa butter lotion on your ass everytime even if it's not too red / doesn't look like it'll bruise, just to comfort you. and he'd hold you until you fall asleep in his arms <3

[wizkiddx]

...surprise

um okay so here I am trying angst again. this is kind of intended to be open ended bcos might have a part two at some point. im also lazy and has a few time jumps. also if someone could pls explain if you just get pics for the top of these off internet or credit on like gifs or something that’d be appreciated.

Summary: Tom comes home and everything is most definitely not the way he left, nor is it healthy

Warnings: please read with caution esp relationship with food / weightloss, but just generally a person in a bad bad head space, lots of self blame - then next parts will carry different warnings too

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

Tom had been away for months. Months and months away from his girlfriend, separated entirely by his filming locations in Europe and America; while you were busy slowly and steadily climbing the ranks of your law firm. Being an intense period for the pair, you hadn’t managed to see each other in 2 and a half months.  Of course, both go you were used to this - 3 years deep into a relationship between an actor and a wanna-be lawyer- this was the name of the game.

But honestly? You both just kept falling deeper and deeper, making the separation harder to deal with - rather than getting used to it as one might hope.

That's why Tom felt such an incredibly overwhelming wave of relief as he dumped his bags just outside his front door. Even though he was exhausted from the travelling, just the mere act of finally phishing out his housekeys brought a massive grin to his face - caused particularly by the sight of his tacky little keyring from a Moroccan market that you’d bought him. That had been your first holiday. There’s that old saying that before you move in with someone go on holiday first - Tom understood it to mean you supposedly see all the bad and ugly stuff people can hide from each other, a prewiring before committing to living in the same space. However that holiday all he’d learned was incredible you are to him. To his dying day, Tom will never forget the moment he looked over to his left when the two of you were on this night time stargaze in the depth of the Moroccan desert. Y/n had never seen stars like it, the skies so incredibly clear and lit up with an array of magical blues and purples and whites on its sark background. The sight, for no unexplainable reason, had you completely opening up to Tom about things she’d never told a single soul. And in that moment he’d had this sort of realisation. Not about how much he loved her - because that is just the cliche thing everyone says… and also just wasn’t true.

In that moment he’d rather realised the potential. The sort of ‘I’m not there yet but I know you could become the centre of my universe’. The sort of ‘I’m not ready to say this yet, but I want to spend my life with you’. The sort of ‘at some point in my life I’m not sure my heart will be able to beat without yours’.

He still hadn’t quite got to explicitly saying all that yet, by asking you for the ultimate commitment. But he planned to now he was coming back to you.

Even with the chill of the early evening winter air, Tom was almost ecstatic as he unlocked the door and let himself in. He hadn’t told you that he was coming home, you thought he had another two weeks on the job, but Tom was a bit of an old romantic - he loved seeing your eyes fill with wonder as he surprised you in whatever way. Sometimes it was as simple as a note on the fridge, or a small bouquet from behind his back or as fancy as a surprise holiday.

However, this time, though it was only 6 in the evening, all the lights of their house were off making Tom raise an eyebrow as he quietly slipped off his shoes - not wanting to scare Y/n just in case.

Tom had sworn when he’d been on the phone with you the previous day, you didn’t have any plans tonight but perhaps maybe a spontaneous pub trip and been offered with work colleagues. The house felt a little cold as he padded through it, poking his head into every room just to check Y/n wasn’t there. His last port of call was the bedroom.

By this point, Tom was pretty resigned on the fact you were out and he’d maybe cook a meal for when you got back or hide about the house or something. But instead, when he poked his head around this door, he sighed in delight at the sight of a still mound under the plush white sheets. For a brief moment, Tom paused, before tiptoeing steadily round to her bedside. The light was still off but the hallway light illuminated the room enough so he could make out your soft features and the messy ball of hair that had been haphazardly thrown in a bun. Furthermore, he could also notice in the light the packet of painkillers and migraine tablets lying opened on the bedside - which made him freeze. Y/n didn’t get migraines often at all, but when she did Tom knew just how bad they could be. That explained the fact you were spark out at six o’clock, making Tom give a sympathetic smile. He crept back out the room with a little spring in his step, deciding that since he had had a long day travelling he'd grab a snack and join you. Unfortunately though, when he enthusiastically yanked the fridge open the sight was a rather depressing one. He didn’t really know what he was craving but the fridge contents were of almost no use to anyone. The place was bloody baron, apart from a tub of butter and of course his special beers that Y/n would never dare touch. With a small huff though, Tom resigned himself to some bread and butter, before getting ready for bed.

It was probably an hour later when Tom was carefully crawling under the duvet to settle in beside Y/n after the disappointing snack and maybe a solitary ‘welcome home beer’ - it would be rude not to. God was he excited to just have his girlfriend in his arms again though. So, Tom naturally reached over and powerfully yet gently pulled you back towards him - making your back flush with his as you mumbled something incoherent. Chuckling slightly at your apparent annoyance of being disturbed, Tom pressed a kiss to her temple before settling down momentarily.

But something wasn’t quite right, making Tom shuffle about a bit - ever adjusting huis grasp on your waist as he attempted to get comfy. With the migraine medications forcing you into a deep deep sleep you barely stirred and that just made the unease increase for Tom. Because you didn’t feel right. This didn’t feel right. Ever so slowly Tom started to peel back the duvet from your body from his now sitting upright position. Typically, Y/n was wearing one of his hoodies, however more concerningly it seemed to pool and collect around your frame more than normal.

Now, Y/n was never the most petite person in the world - by no means overweight, instead of beautiful curves and muscle. To Tom now though, it was as if someone had literally shrunk you - like a picture on a word document you needed to make narrower to fit the margins. Even in the dim light of the bedroom he know realised you looked pale. Honestly, Tom didn’t know how long he just sat there staring at you, until you sighed a little and pulled the duvet back up to just under your chin.

He didn’t know what to think or do. All he knew was you didn’t look well and that you hadn’t said a thing to him. Feeling so very uncomfortable within himself, Tom climbed out the bed and simultaneously grabbed his phone. He knew he had to call someone, to check that you hadn’t been ill - but then who to call? Someone that wouldn’t judge or instantly worry- your mum was completely off the cards. Also, he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yet, so really he knew there was only a couple of options who were close enough to him too.

“Hey what’s up?” “Um nothing much, back in the UK though so-“ “Oh shit really! Kept that one quite bro” “Yeh well came back to surprise Y/n” “Oh you're soooo whipped” “Fuck off Haz, have you um… have you seen her recently anyway?” “You're asking me if I’ve seen your girl while you’ve been away?” “I’m being serious. You’re pretty much brother and sister and I’m -I’m a bit worried.” “What? You know she wouldn’t cheat especially with me” Haz’s tone turned less serious, using a goofy accent “ I know too much.” Haz still attempted to lighten the mood, this conversation very unexpected and making him grow more and more concerned himself. “Haz quit it. I’m worried she’s been ill. I’ve come in and she’s asleep with a migraine but there’s no food in the fridge and she’s skinny as hell.” “Fuck er sorry I didn’t realise. But um no she’s been cancelling on us for the past like two weeks cos like…I don’t know said she was just snowed under at the firm so” “But before then?” “No yeh she was fine. Went to the pub a couple times and she always drove so didn’t drink but nothing weird - think she wanted to keep a clear head. What are you thinking?” “I don’t know to be honest mate. She seemed fine on the phone but I swear to god she looks half the size  of what she was when I left.” “Just talk to her in the morning? She probably is just stressed if work has been mad busy.” Tom hummed in agreement, half trying to convince himself too. “Yeh yeh, sorry for bothering you.” “Oh shut up mate - I’ll see you both at your parents for the roast tomorrow? Sams got some new recipe I think, he’s been wittering on about it for days.” “Yeh we’ll be there, see you then mate.” 

After signing off to Haz, Tom placed his phone on the little table on the upstairs hallway and sighed. He knew he was being over-protective but he couldn’t help it. Y/n was always the one to care for him, in fact to care for everybody int he room and then some.

He’d get to the bottom of whatever this was tomorrow, and so the rest of the evening Tom spent rather unhappily get ready before bed yet again before climbing back in next to you.

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

Tom woke before you, a combination of jet lag and the worry in the pit of his stomach meaning he stirred awake first. Instinctively he pulled you closer and nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck as he slowly began to wake up properly - shrugging off the grogginess. Tom was still really excited for you to realise he was back, predicting you  to excitedly hug him ever so tight and then spend the morning between the sheets. He knew you found the distance tough, especially when all your closest friends were coupled off, it meant you just didn’t have ‘your person’. It was almost as if you were single again and instead of pining over an ex, hopelessly and completely in love with someone across the globe. But that just made your time together even more invaluable and precious.

So even with his slight unease at your slimmer silhouette, Tom didn't have any control over the loopy grin that came to his face as you started to stir and mumble something incoherent, all the while (and subconsciously) inching closer towards him. By the slight fluttering under your eyelid, Tom knew you were waking up and so took the moment to tuck your frizzy bed hair behind your ear. Sighing contently Y/n’s eyes fluttered completely open and Tom met your gaze with the most gently of smiles.

However, he then watched moment by moment as your expression morphed for one of peacefulness and content, through confusion, and ending at pure terror. He had barely thought of asking you why, before you yelped, throwing yourself up into a sitting position and backing as far away on the bed as you could from Tom. “TOM... I-you can’t be here! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!” “Y/n hey what’s wrong-“ “GET OUT! G-GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU CAN’T BE HERE” you  yanked the bedsheets to completely cover your huddled up body, as if trying to protect yourself. At this point, tears were streaming down your face and what truly terrified Tom was the expression of horror in your eyes. He threw his hands in the air and unsteadily stumbled to his feet. “O-okay I’m-“ “GET OUT!!! YOU CAN'T SEE ME GET OUT!” Completely bemused and shocked, Tom just nodded jerkily -already halfway out the door and accidentally slamming it in haste.

He had absolutely zero clue what that was about. But what he knew for a fact? He’d never ever seen you like that… you looked so completely terrified… of him? Tom couldn’t for the life of him work out what the hell was going on, as he paced from the shut door to the hallway wall and back again, running his hand through his hair throughout. He could hear you sobbing and whisper yelling - presumably at yourself. It felt as though his heart was being torn out, seeing you that upset and it appearing as his fault? He was acting on pure instinct and adrenalin because your pain hurt him too. He had no control of the physiological response in his body, making his hands shake and breathing increase in speed as it inversely got shallower too.

And so he took a short inhalation, biting his bottom lip as he knocked on the door. “Y/n?….” He got no response after waiting a couple of seconds so tried again - because he could hear you trying to stifle your sobs. After another two failed attempts he opted for a different approach. “Y/n… I’m worried about you… look, I know your upset right now but I need you to let me know your okay… or I’ll have to come in and…and I don’t want to spook you” “Don’t come in.” It was a sharp reply, with a voice that was cracked and clearly trying to keep It together. “Okay… I-I’m sorry if my surprise of coming home was a dumb idea…I-I’ve missed you.” Tom tried speaking softly, as he knelt down and sat with this back against the wall while nervously fiddling with his watch strap that he’d forgot to take off last night. Again he waited for a response but got nothing, again having to warn you he needed to know you were okay. He heard movements from the other side of the door, making him turn his head to the left, pressing his ear on the cool gloss paint. “I-I’m sorry” You barely were whispering, but Tom could sense you were now sitting in a position mirroring his “You don’t meed to apologise love” Returning her tone, Tom sighed at the end - trying to get his brain to process what was going on.

Y/n wasn’t one to overreact and Tom could count on one hand the number of serious fights they’d had in the three year romance. And even then, he was the one to raise his voice - when she argued it was more reasoned, slow and controlled. Actually it was one of the things that in those moments infuriated him even more - you were just so level headed and sensible. Scratch that, sensible purely in this context - everywhere else you were just as loopy as him. So this situation felt so very alien. He didn’t know how to help you and he bloody hated feeling useless.

After a few moments, you replied to apologise once again, for shouting specifically,  and Tom nodded - not that you could see. But that was one of the things Y/n had taught him, sometimes you just have accept things - no matter the context. Accept he wasn’t actually a superhero and couldn’t do everything, accept that sometimes he could be a dick and out of line or accept an apology.

“Can you.. can you try and tell me why your upset? I want to help.” He was trying to be gentle, non-confrontational. But he knew something was so wrong. He needed to know so he could try and help out. “I…”Y/n began, but quickly trailed off, as if trying to formulate the words properly. “I’ve just been ill and” again another pause “and I haven’t been looking after myself very well. I just planned to be umm- to be better when you got back.”

It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t really the truth either, at least not the whole truth. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I’m not sure I understand why your so worried about what I think though?” Tom inquired, as he started to fiddle with the door handle in his left hand - as if easing the idea of coming into his girlfriend without scaring you. In reply, you sighed again trying to put the words together without explicitly spelling it out to him. “I don’t- I thought you’d just be disappointed or-or think I’m reliant on you. I’m not and I can handle myself I just…. I don’t know.” “I love you, you idiot.”Tom chuckled at that, while standing up. “Can I come in now please? I promise I’m not disappointed just want to help you feel better.”

The door opened and no sooner could Tom take a step forward than Y/n ran into his chest, wrapping herself tightly around him in apology. He knew that he didn’t have the full story but really didn’t want to push her, more preferring to just love her. So that’s what they spent the rest of the morning doing, in their pyjamas and watching TV. Quite obviously, she wasn’t really making a lot of conversation, Tom filled some gaps with talking about filming - to which she’d hum in agreement or chuckle along. But for the most part Y/n was concentrating on something else.

The all-consuming guilt. That was what was eating away at her.

part 2?

[junseotual]

bye bye 2020, hello 2021 !!

happy new year everyone!! there’s a lot of people i want to thank for making last year so much more bearable so i tried writing some messages for some of my dearest mutuals this year as well!! (keyword tried because i absolutely cannot put my feelings and thoughts into words. i love you all though and thank you so so so much!!!)

@angelhyunjin : angi!! i know you’re not on here anymore (actually i just found out . i ran to twt to find u as quick as i could!!) but it felt weird not?? putting you on here because you WERE a big part of my year!! i was always excited to chat with you and i rlly rlly loved (still do) seeing your art and your dance covers i can’t believe how talented at both you are!! you are really really lovely and even if it’s been a while i hope you know i still think of you and hope you’re doing well!! this year might have been hard but i hope 2021 will be much nicer to you because you definitely deserve it!! i love you!! 

@cinanamon : stephie!! i think we haven’t talked in a while until we started suddenly bonding over minho but all is well that ends well because now we are the founders of a minho cult and that’s all i could hope for in life i think! we don’t talk that much but seeing your tags in all the minho posts is always a TIME i absolutely love reading them! thank you for being there to lose it over minho, always, but also for being there in general! you are really sweet and i do love to talk to u!! i also know you are a really good writer so i hope 2021 brings you lots of inspiration to write more!! (and i’ll finally catch up on your fics too! hehe) happy new year!! 

@cocogoat : puppy !! i think we haven’t been friends for long actually and that sounds fake because that would mean there was a time i didn’t instinctively check your blog when i woke up in the morning (or the evening let’s be real)?? you are so! adorable and for what!!!!!! i really do love seeing you pop up in my phone notifs and reading your posts even if i dont have any idea what they’re saying half of the time unless it’s dgrp (i cannot believe i have a dgrp friend now. amazing i think i won) u are so funny and so cute and i’m really glad i got to know you because!! you’re such a nice friend that i! love! times can be hard but i hope 2021 is gentle with you because that is! what! you deserve! gentle pats and tight hugs! (maybe that’s why i associate ab6ix’s heaven with you it’s the gentle vibes) <3

@glossiers : miss bri i am in love w u that’s it. no i’m kidding that’s not it i have much more to say . i am in lov w u though #brillie2k21 i think. i think it’s been a surprisingly short time since we’ve actually started talking?? which is kinda crazy if u ask me because?? how the hell did i live my life without screaming BRIIIII whenever i see u on the dash like for real how . that sounds like a life so empty like. that would rlly be missing . something?? anyways u are a dear dear friend that i really really love and i’m sure you know that but i will keep saying it anyway! i’m sure i’m pretty annoying so thanks for putting up with me! and for talking to me! i feel like i’ve said it before but! you are a delight to see on the dash and i lovlovlov talking to u (and sending u pics of my cats, thank u for appreciating them). i still cannot believe u managed to convince yourself i was a hyeongjun stan though. hope i can be convincing enough to clear that up and leave no doubts in your brain this year. anyways i love you and i hope we can continue to be friends and talk even MORE this year!!!!!! happy new year ilu <3

@hwacinth : miss dia my sweet sweet floral nymph real life shirayuki and queen of urls! i am? so so so so so glad that we are friends you literally have my heart it is YOURS i can’t even try to claim it back!! you literally are shirayuki i don’t even know how to elaborate i think it’s just self-explanatory but you are just. such a sweet little sunshine!! it’s like you bring spring everywhere you go!! we could be in a middle of a metaphorical storm but when you appear the skies clear up and flowers bloom wherever you step and i cannot help but smile when i see you online!! thank you so so much for being my little ray of sunshine in these tough times! i hope to see even more of your posts this year!! don’t hesitate to live blog anything you watch in my dms if you feel like you’re posting too much (but i hope you never feel that way because you’re not . love seeing u live post it is absolutely amazing i won’t ever get tired of it)!! happy new year and i love you!! ps only 1 more hour until your birthday HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIA ILUUU <3 I HOPE YOU CAN HAVE A WONDERFUL ONE!! IM SENDING YOU CAKE TELEPATHICALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@hwisgf : sorinaaaa! happy new year!! we don’t talk that much but it is always nice seeing you around! you are vv sweet and i really appreciate that, thank you for taking the time to talk to me sometimes!! you are also probably my only fantasy mutual?? which is terrible on one side because i think everyone should stan sf9 but that’s besides the point . i really do love the fact that i at least have u to talk to abt sf9 if need and i LOVE seeing u in love with hwi it is absolutely amazing. i am forever grateful for all the free hwi pics days too!! <3 i hope 2021 can be a year full of happiness for you!! (also that is also besides the point but @ fnc i want an sf9 cb announcement) ILY!! (and so does hwi)

@inkigayeo : miss vivi galaxy brain happy new year!! we only started talking recently but u do have my heart already!! i hope this year treats you well and that we can get to know each other more and be friends hehe!!!! <3 (my other wish is for u to stop breaking my heart with those fake titles. please . why should san NOT come back explain yourself .)

@jeongcheols : mimi . mimi mimi mimi im literally typing this as u are listening to that ten n dj stage ok now it’s kai ok anyways . ANYWAYS i am loving your sm concert live commentary . criminal is sounding amazing taemin is insane indeed (yes i took a break before coming back to writing this) i truly don’t know what to say?? n i have to keep watching the time so that i can scream HAPPY NEW YEAR into the mic in 14 minutes. but like?? i love you?? like. like for real i don’t know what i would’ve done without you?? also it’s weird writing this for tumblr instead of just in your messages (also i can’t focus with idea playing. idea soty). and i mean. you technically know all of this but like?? i can’t believe we’ve known each other for so long but also such a short time at the same time like. what. thank you for being my bestestest friend and my soulmat i don’t think i would’ve been able to remain sane this year (and last year too honestly) if it wasn’t for you?? thank you for always listening to my incoherent rants and i’m always so sorry for spamming you while you’re asleep i know you must wake up to like 150+ messages with absolutely no connection between them and they’re all just so random i truly don’t know how you manage to not get annoyed and to just stay with me all this time i’m- getting emotional. you had a terrible year, i know it! i really do!! and while it might not be looking too bright right now, i hope the universe hears me and treats you much better in 2021 because!! you deserve so much more!! you deserve the world, really!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i would write more really but like what is there to say literally i’m just (your emoji)) i love you for real;;

@nakyngs : ele <3 happy new year!!!!!! we haven’t talked much this year but i do think of u a lot daily i hope you know that!! and i love u a lot! even if i still need to catch up on all your aus </3 i hope 2021 can be a fun and stress-free year for you!! and we should catch up sometime too!! ps i hope your fish are ok

@ncityzen : dear spring fairy!! i already sent you a new year’s message earlier today like what. 6 hours ago but! once again!! i really do hope you can leave the hard times behind in 2020 and only get the best things possible this new year!! i’m always very happy to see you appear on my dash and curious to see your life updates and your random literature-related mini-rants in the tags they are always very interesting to see!! so! hoping to see even more of that this year <3 i hope you know that i love you and i really care about you!!

@woojjongs : MISS IRI! i am screaming this very loud so hopefully u can hear me all the way in canada! okay i had to leave this one for last because i?? don’t really know how to start i’m just a pink glittery puddle with lil hearts flowing in it that is how i feel towards u right now . how does one think and how does one write down their thoughts coherently give me a second. this is going to be a mess maybe u shouldn’t read it (‘accidentally’ forgets to tag u). just know that i decided to play txt’s wishlist to write this and u might be confused by that but all u need to know is that it means i love you very much. OKAY so miss iri you are . such a wonderful pal i truly don’t know what i would’ve done without you like . it would feel so weird not seeing you around tumblr would be so so so so empty i don’t even think you can begin to imagine how empty i’d feel without you around here ksdjbskbds i absolutely adore you but we already knew that. i’m always super excited to see your gifsets and your nonsense!! be it your love for woojong or u missing lim jimin (play m.. 🔪) or your snoo brainrot or hating literally anyone on smtm or whatever else it might be i love it all!! you are so cute and adorable and talented and sweet and funny i cannot believe you also happen to be the prettiest person on earth too. how does that feel! anyways i love you so so so so so much? i keep telling you to hold back from committing crimes but i absolutely WOULD commit a crime for u i really do adore you!! i mean . how many groups did u make me stan . (ok actually i don’t think there’s that many. but STILL) i know i can be super annoying but thank u for taking the time to chat with me nonetheless!! i’m all over the place but . there’s times i come online literally just to check your blog nothing else! i hope we can continue to be friends this year too n perhaps talk more (or the same amount idk please tell me off when i’m too annoying)!! happy new year, i hope it holds wonderful things in store for u!!!!!! and we really are starting off great since victon comeback is approaching <3 (this got way too long i’m so sorry i’ll cut it off now before i write 10 pages)

@xiaocity : miss siya hello hello hello first of all i’m just so very glad that you’re back i l o v e you!!! i love seeing you around be it your gifs or your text posts which yes. i cannot properly understand half of the time but google is my best friend after all! you’re such a wonderful person and i’m just?? really glad to have you around like?? you feel kind of like a cousin i don’t always get to see but am always excited to talk to when i can? this might not make sense but. you are vvv cool and talented and funny and feel very like. reliable? i feel like i am not making any sense so like ignore me. what i’m saying is i really really like you a whole lot and i really hope we can talk even more in 2021!! happy new year, i hope it’s a wonderful one for you!!

@yunwoo : miss anna we haven’t been moots for that long and we haven’t talked much but u are vvv cute and i hope we can become (better) pals this year!! i’m looking forward to seeing u on the dash more often, hopefully!! happy new year <3

[black-streak]

Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting (but Sundays are meant for rest) - The Beginning

 Part 1

So I came up with this partially fleshed out idea on discord and decided to try writing a prequel of sorts to my HCs? Anyways, Mari is like 20ish and Tim is around 25 here. Pre-relationship.

~---~

 Marinette would forever be grateful that she had memorized the layout of the manor back in her first few visits. Otherwise she would have been absolutely lost by now; her sleep addled mind unwilling to give a single thought as to where she was walking. The only thought she could process was a cry for coffee whispering like a mantra through the back of her mind.

Turning a seemingly random corner, she found herself in the side kitchen standing in front of the coffee maker, already holding a fresh pot of the heavenly smelling life elixir. Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but whatever, it's 3 am and she's entitled to her theatrics.

Pouring a cup into her favorite mug, having had it appear before her despite not recalling retrieving it, she held it close and made way to the sit-in table, slumping down into the closest seat.

 It took about 10 minutes and half her mug down to realise she wasn't alone in the room. Turning her head slightly, she spotted Tim typing away at his laptop, his own mug just to the right of her arm.

   'When the hell did he get there?' She couldn't remember hearing any footsteps or the coffee pot pouring but then… she also didn't remember turning it on…. 'He's been here the whole time, hasn't he?'

  Turning back towards her own, she finished off the cup and got up to retrieve the pot, moving over to fill both of their mugs before returning it to its holder only to drop back into her seat beside him, leaning closer to see what he was working on.

"Thanks."

   Jumping slightly, she just blinked at him for a moment, then gave a slight nod.

"Couldn't sleep?" Tim glanced at her, inquiry quiet and half incoherent in its murmur.

Humming softly she considered before truthfully admitting, "Rarely can."

"Damian asleep then?"

"Probably."

"You're not sure?"

"Didn't want to check his room and bother him if he was. Plus, he'd be cranky if I woke him for no reason."

That seemed to catch Tim's attention for whatever reason, because he turned his eyes off the document to look at her fully now.

"You don't sleep in his room?"

"Nah. I tend to cuddle in my sleep and he can't stand being confined like that. Puts him on edge, I think."

  That only prompted an even more perplexed look from him. Unable to process that with so little sleep, she turned back to looking over his shoulder, trying to read what Tim was working on. Giving up, she looked back up to him.

"Whatcha working on?"

"Eh, just some last minute paperwork for a new deal WE is suppose to be negotiating next week."

"... At 3am?"

"You judging me," he asked, lifting one eyebrow slightly in amusement at the hypocrisy.

"You said the deal is for next week."

"It is. But if I get it done now, it's one less thing to stress over at the last second."

"But if you read it on a sleep deprived mind, you're less likely to recall anything you typed up. Meaning you'll have to reread it…. And depending on how dead tired you are, might have to rewrite it. Who knows what sleepy you thinks makes a good deal?"

"Hey! Sleepy me is perfectly capable of working without my brain's input."

Leaning over the counter to rest on her crossed arms, Mari tilted her head slightly to pout up at him.

"Yes but perhaps it'd be best to do so tomorrow and get your brain's input at the same time to save time? Come on, just put on a video or something mindless. I'll keep you company."

  Her logic was sound. There was no argument Tim could give that would actually work in his favor on the matter, but hearing a slight sigh of defeat still gave her an immense sense of victory. Peering over at her, he decided turnaround was fair.

"Alright… but if we're not going to work, you should be trying to sleep. Im cutting you off." He said, pulling her mug out of her reach only to find it empty. Sighing, he moved to set it in the sink only to see her take up his own, carrying it over as well.

"In that case, so should you," she smirked, washing out both mugs and setting them to dry before taking up his laptop, grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the living room.

'How did I not see that coming? That was the obvious outcome… when Was the last time I slept,' Tim wondered, not really paying mind to Mari as she situated them both on the couch, turning the screen to face them both from the coffee table, youtube pulled up and a vine compilation being queued up to play.

…..

  Half an hour later, the two were passing jokes back and forth, sleepy giggles and references whispered into the dark room, laptop forgotten and asleep before them, both too out of it to think of moving back to their rooms. Only to be broken up by a mewling yawn, Mari slumping further down, sleep finally pulling at her.

  It didn't quite hit Tim that something about the situation was slightly off till Marinette curled into him from where he slouched into the corner of the couch, head dropping onto his chest. 

Ah, Fuck. Damian was going to kill him.

Nudging her slightly till she hummed to him, he tried to gently wake her back up fully.

"Mari, shouldn't you go back to your room now?"

It had the opposite effect.

  Mari sprung up, eyes wide, blush flushing up her cheeks, seemingly not having realized she had been cuddling up to him till just then.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable! I keep forgetting you guys like warning beforehand. Either way I should have asked if you minded though. That was so invasive of me and the last thing I want is to invade your space when it's not warranted or wanted. I promise it won't happen again Tim, I'm so sorry."

Finally stopping to take a deep breath from her rambling, Tim jumped in, panicking to think he was causing her distress.

"No no, Marinette, it's fine! You're a very tactile person and frankly I don't mind it. I just know Damian wouldn't like finding you cuddling up to me, or anyone for that matter, especially in the middle of the night when he thought you were in your room, that's all."

That seemed to stop her in her tracks. Settling back down, she fixed him with a thrown look. 

"I mean… I know Dami can be protective at times, but I don't think he'd be that upset by it. Maybe a touch put off, but I think he'd tease me more than anything?"

Now he was thrown for a loop. This went against everything he knew about his little brother… that could only mean bad things.

"... Really."

"Yeah, as I said, he knows I'm a cuddly person when I'm tired. Plus, your his brother. At least he knows and trusts you. He'd just make fun of me for being so clingy. Sorry again about that by the way."

Narrowing his eyes, Tim couldn't see a hint that she was lying, but still he had to push to be sure. The last thing he needed was Damian to feel like his position was being threatened. That's what sparked their rivalry the first time after all.

"Hmm... I took Damian to be the possessive type. Especially over someone he was seeing. Trust me, Mari, he's not going to like his girlfriend cuddling anyone. Especially not me." 

"Holy Tikki, what?!"

"Tikki?"

" You think… you think Dami and I are dating?!?!"

"Be quiet, you're going to wake someone up!" He rushed out, trying to cover her mouth, only for her to evade, eyes blown wide with shock but still aware enough to dodge his grip.

"No, hold up. You seriously thought we were together?" She spoke in a startled tone, grabbing at his hands to make him stop reaching at her face and concentrate on her words.

Finally giving up on keeping her quiet, Tim actually started processing her words.

"You're… not?"

"No! Of course not! Did he say we were?"

"Well no but… I just assumed. He doesn't like anyone and yet acts like your his personal sunshine."

  Giggling, she shook her head, settling back into the couch at his side.

"Yeah, that's only in front of others. Says no one needs to know what a chaotic being I am. His words not mine."

"Oh. So you guys really aren't..?"

"Nope," she chuckled, popping the p, slowly curling back into his side.

Stopping abruptly, she pulled back a bit and glanced up to him, blush dusting the top of her freckled cheeks. 

"Is.. Is this okay?"

  Now assured that he wouldn't be promptly attacked just for letting Marinette near him, he couldn't see why not. Plus, she obviously took comfort in it and needed sleep. Who knows if she'll find any alone in her room. Wrapping an arm around her and tugging her slowly down, he nodded.

"I already told you I don't mind. Plus, your warm."

Humming her thanks, she burrowed herself under his chin and promptly passed out, Tim following only moments after.

…..

Tim woke up late in the morning, having slid down the cushion and twisted up his limbs with Marinette's who was still half on top of him. By some stroke of luck, they hadn't been disturbed by anyone thus yet. (Dick had already passed through and took a picture to send to the group chat. Who knew the way to make Tim sleep was to pass out on top of him?)  Feeling her shift, he looked down to see bleary blue eyes blinking back at him from under messy bangs. A small smile lit her lips and she moved up giving a light kiss to the underside of his jaw, before slowly getting up.

"Thanks Tim. Probably the best sleep I've had in a long time. We should nap sometime…. Maybe watch a movie first," she suggested, flushing but sending a coy, eager look his way.

Nodding, he could only think one thing.

'Welp. She's going to be the death of me."

[dwaynepride]

The Fool’s Form

Summary: “i like seeing you smile.”  &Gibbs / Gibbs notices a pattern when it comes to you, and it forces him to realize his own feelings.

Words: 3,177

Warnings: None

Tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @specialagentlokitty @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267

Notes: I went into this oneshot with no real planning so im sorry if it seems incoherent, at times.

The slight ring in his ears wouldn’t go away. Sticking around like an annoying gnat without any signs of disappearing. Gibbs figured it would be gone by tomorrow; this wasn’t his first experience with ringing ears. But when it was accompanied by a scratchy throat and itchy lungs and soot getting in his eyes sometimes, Gibbs wish ringing ears was his only problem.

His body ached. His nose was starting to hate the smell of smoke, but the fire in the building wasn’t completely out yet, and Gibbs couldn’t leave. Not until someone came to pick him up.

It was that or a hospital ride. Gibbs would rather be in the burning building.

He lets his eyes close for just a few moments, breathing in the fresh air the oxygen tank provided. The only rest he would get for the rest of the day, because once a member of his team comes to pick him up, it’ll be back to work. Trying to catch the guy who managed to escape and set the building ablaze with Gibbs still inside.

The sound of his name perked his ears up, his eyes opening in the direction of your voice. And his eyes were still a little scratchy from the dust. Gibbs pulls his oxygen mask away and rubs an eye as you near, saying his name once again. “Are you okay?” You ask him, and now that he can see a little clearer, he watches you look him over.

Gibbs nods once, clearing his throat so his voice wasn’t too messed up. That would only further worry you, and he didn’t want to do that. You already worried enough. “Any sign of the petty officer from the BOLO?”

Despite his efforts, his voice was scratchy and sounded like hell. You physically winced at the sound but shook your head anyway. “Not yet. Tony said he’d call as soon as something came up.” You tell him, wearing a small, worried frown. “I think you should go home.”

Gibbs shakes his head while setting the oxygen aside, deeming himself well enough to leave. That was the deal with the paramedic, anyway. “Gotta get back to work.” He states, forcing himself not to groan out loud as he stands. His muscles scream at the effort, telling him to sit back down. Get some rest. Maybe sleep for a couple days.

He barely hears you say his name again. More scolding, this time. And when Gibbs to fully on his feet, that’s when he notices your hand clutching his arm. No, he was standing up by himself. He didn’t need your help... “Gibbs, I really think-”

“Take me to the office.”

His voice is sharp; an order, if you’ve ever heard one. The harder tone of voice makes you blink at him. A bit of hurt flashing in your eyes that Gibbs regrets a little, but it gets you to nod and help him to the car. Somehow, he’s able to pull himself into the passenger seat without grunting. His body still aches, but he’ll get used to it.

You shut the door, glance sideways to Gibbs, and start up the engine. The burning building disappears in the rear view mirror. Gibbs grunts in effort as he tries to get comfortable in his seat. And you still can’t quite believe that he wants to go back to work.

He was stuck in that building, surrounded by fire and smoke.

He could have died.

That thought suddenly makes it difficult to breathe. If Gibbs wasn’t your intimidating Marine boss, you’d yell at him. Scold him for being so stupid. Not going to the hospital was one thing, but going back to work was another level of reckless.

Your eyes flicker away from the road to eye your boss. His head rested against the seat, hands in his lap, eyes blinking shut. Almost as if he was going to take a nap on the way to the office, and it gave you an idea. A dumb idea, but it seemed like a good one at the time.

Taking a right would lead back to the Naval Yard. You took a left instead.

The next time Gibbs opened his eyes, you were shaking him awake. Softly saying his name. When did he fall asleep? And why? He could normally stay up for days before passing out so quickly.

He grunts a little at your blurry form before opening the door. He just needed some coffee and he’d be right as rain. Maybe take about half a bottle of Advil for the ache in his muscles, but work comes first.

But once Gibbs closes the car door behind him and actually blinks the sleep from his eyes, he realizes he isn’t in the parking lot of the NCIS building. He’s in his driveway. At home.

Exhaustion slows his brain down a little, but once you come around to the other side of the car, Gibbs whips his head around. Frowning as much as he can with a face numbed with tiredness. “What the hell is this? Did you suddenly lose your hearing when I gave you an order?”

He must not have seemed as intimidating as he usually is. Because you just huff out a light sigh at his aggressive bark. “Gibbs, you can barely stand up straight. You’re exhausted and all beat up and my car is going to smell like smoke for at least a week.” Your head motions toward his house, putting on a small smile. “Please, just take a nap and a shower. I’m not asking for a week’s vacation.”

It might as well be, to Gibbs. He’d need to be shot before staying home when he doesn’t need to.

And he was about to say just that. Threaten unemployment and act like an angry bear until you caved. But something stopped him. Held him back. Maybe it was that look in your eye; it was an infuriatingly familiar one. Wide and sad and full of concern. Puppy-dog eyes to the max, and Gibbs was almost always swayed by such a look.

This was one of those times.

Though, the exertion of simply standing was a big contributing factor. Either way, he sighs hard. Head lolling down and shaking before he looks back up. “I want a report later. And if I don’t get one-”

“You’ll slap our heads clean off.” A smile instantly appeared on your face, having won the argument. You reach out, patting Gibbs on his shoulder and gesturing toward the house. “Now go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you some dinner later on.”

Gibbs started walking, biting back the temptation to say something snarky. He usually hated being treated as if he was fragile. And he usually proved that he wasn’t.

But after he showered away the soot and smoke sticking to his skin and spread out over the couch with a heavy exhale, maybe it wasn’t so bad this time. Because he was tired. The couch felt like a cloud. And you were right; Gibbs needed the rest.

Needed it so much so, that he was still out like a light when you showed up several hours later. There was no point in knocking on the door; it was open and Gibbs kept it that way. The setting sun provided a bit of warm light to the old house as you made your way through. Gibbs was probably in the basement, and you were hoping he got at least a couple hours of sleep before getting up and moving around.

And you were never so glad to be wrong.

His low snores could be heard even as soon as you came through the door. And they only got louder when you approached the living room, take-out box in hand. The sight of your boss fast asleep on the couch, his head propped up against the armrest, was vastly preferred over watching him limp all around his basement and pretending everything was okay.

You kept your footsteps silent, barely breathing as you came closer and set the take-out on the coffee table. A burger and fries; you weren’t going to push your luck and try to get him to eat something healthy.

For a moment, you watch him. Just to make sure he’s really sleeping and not pretending to appease you. But there was a certain look of peacefulness on Gibbs’ face that you couldn’t ever remember seeing when he was awake. Calm and at rest. You couldn’t quite stifle the smile that appeared.

Your eyes leave Gibbs and flicker over his living room before finally spotting what you’d been searching for. Still taking slow steps, you make toward the reclining chair and pull off the blanket throw over the top of it.

If Gibbs is going to sleep into the night, he might get cold, right?

Carefully, slowly, you drape the blanket over his feet. His legs. The fabric hits his hips before Gibbs inhales and shifts. And you freeze until he stops, letting out the lowest groans and falling back into deep sleep.

He must really be exhausted.

You continue the deed until Gibbs is sufficiently covered. It’s a little jarring, how different he seems right now. Tucked in and fast asleep. If you had to pick a word to describe the moment, adorable could be one of them.

But you don’t stay for too long. Gibbs is still resting and you delivered his dinner. There was still work to be done, and he did want a report whenever he woke up.

So you walk out of his house just as silently as you came in.

--

Gibbs can’t remember a time he was so well-rested.

Not using caffeine as his only source of energy. Not stringing himself along for three or four days with little sleep and telling himself that he’s fine. Gibbs felt great, all things considered.

Sure, his body still ached. Lingering affects of smoke inhalation had the Marine coughing since he woke up. And anger still boiled in his gut, steeling his determination to put this case to rest.

But, annoyingly, it was difficult for Gibbs to focus on the case. Not because of any injuries sustained from yesterday - his mind was just somewhere else. Keeping his attention away from where it needed to be.

Gibbs’ eyes flickered away from his computer screen (he hadn't read a single word on it for a while) and landed on your desk. Empty, because you and DiNozzo were following up on the local police and their search for the suspect.

And Gibbs had a working theory as to why his focus was so frazzled today. It wasn’t the fire that had shaken him; he’s been through worse. No, it started as soon as he woke up this morning, wrapped in a blanket that Gibbs was sure he didn’t fall asleep with. An old box of food that had gone bad hours ago, but he knew it was from you. You did promise to bring him dinner...

“Boss?”

Gibbs straightens up at McGee’s voice, eyes falling down to his desk before rising up to the junior agent. “What, McGee?” He asks, tone curt and harsh because he was caught in his own thoughts.

McGee seems a little awkward at the tone, but he continues on with his report. “Uh, Abby and I determined that the cause of the fire was electrical. Probably rigged and set off whenever you entered the building.” He explains. And after Gibbs simply nods, McGee gives a small tilt of his head. “Are you feeling okay, boss? If you need to go home, we can handle things-”

“No, I don’t need to go home.” Gibbs cuts him off with a bark-like tone, standing up from his chair to bring himself to full height. But try as he might, Gibbs didn’t feel very intimidating. Probably because it took him a lot longer to stand because of the ache in his legs. And when he straightened up, his lungs got that itchy, smoky sensation. Gibbs bit his tongue to keep from coughing.

McGee’s eyes lower, anyway. But any awkward silence or unwanted apology is chased away by DiNozzo’s voice; loud and booming as he entered the bullpen.

“Boss! It’s good to see you walking around!”

Gibbs looks to his senior agent, regards him silently, doesn’t spend too much time watching him before he’s looking at you. Gibbs blames his lame lungs for how tight his chest feels at that moment. The effort it takes for him in inhale as you approach, frowning a little but not really mad. Gibbs knew that expression well. “Yeah, even though I still think you should be resting at home.”

Out of the corner of his eye, McGee is signaling to you to shut up and not go down that road. But Gibbs doesn’t scowl or grumble.

Instead, his eyes watch yours for a moment. Maybe two before they drop to what you’re holding. You look down, huff, and hand over one of the coffee to-go cups for him. And when Gibbs takes it, you give him smile. “No need to say thanks. You can do that by eating this.”

At that, you lift up a bag that he hadn’t noticed before. Gibbs frowns, his head tilting as he reads the logo printed in the front, ‘Joe’s Bagels.’ That makes him huff, head shaking. “Not hungry.” He states.

“You need to eat, Gibbs. You’re still healing.” You shake the bag, holding it closer. And then you put on those puppy-dog eyes again. The same ones from last night, when you convinced him to take the day off and rest. Last night, his exhaustion could be blamed for how easily Gibbs conceded. This morning, he had not real excuse. No reason to agree.

But he takes the bagels anyway. Sets them on his desk and he sits, leaving you to grin while McGee and Tony exchanged looks.

Why should they be surprised? Even Gibbs gets hungry sometimes.

--

The light of his lamp didn’t seem to help Gibbs at all in reading reports. He’d get only about two lines in before his vision goes blurry. Having to rub his eyes to refocus them.

It must be pretty late. The officeplace has been quiet for a little while now. DiNozzo skirting off for some new date. McGee and Abby having some kind of plans that Gibbs didn’t quite understand. Something about computers, no doubt. So it must be pretty late, that’s why he can barely keep his eyes open...

10:30.

Gibbs frowns at the time. No way in hell is it that early. But after checking the time on his computer, it’s apparent that Gibbs is thoroughly tired and drained at 10:30 PM. He must be getting old.

Suddenly, he hears your voice; a sharp contrast from the silence of the room. When Gibbs straightens up to watch you come from the elevator, chatting on the phone, the pull in his muscles reminds him that maybe yesterday’s incident is what has him so drained.

But Gibbs looks down when you turn into the bullpen, not wanting it to seem like he was watching you. But he listens carefully; you have plans. Tonight. With who? Hopefully not a guy-

So what if it is? It’s no business of his.

Gibbs is scowling at his paperwork when you say his name. Several times, in fact. It isn’t until you lean over his monitor do you finally catch his attention. The surprised look on your boss’ face elicits a big smile. “You’re still here? You should head home, Gibbs.”

He blinks, brow quirking. “You’re still here.” He points out, and can’t help himself but to lean closer. Like you were dragging him in and Gibbs couldn’t fight the tide.

“Yeah, because I had some things to wrap up. And I wasn’t nearly burnt to a crisp yesterday.”

A good point. One that Gibbs marginally agreed with, even though he looked away with a shake of his head. “I’m fine.” He says. He won’t let you get to him, this time. Twice was one thing. Three times was a pattern.

A pattern he didn’t want to acknowledge.

You don’t reply, at first, but Gibbs can see you slinking around his desk. Can feel your eyes on him - firm, like a predator watching their prey. Gibbs hated feeling like prey. “You’re exhausted, I can tell. You get even quieter and grumpier than usual.”

Can you really read him so easily?

“Please, Gibbs, go home.”

His eyes fall shut, exhaling harshly that turned into a light cough. Home did sound good. His body screamed for the comfort of his couch. And your voice, light and pleading, admittedly tipped the scales of his decision.

Gibbs stands up, flicking his lamp off and pressing the button of his monitor. His workspace goes dark, matching those of his team.

When he turns to you, expecting a victorious grin, you’re just smiling softly. Gibbs didn’t expect it. And he didn’t expect you to keep talking. “I’m just worried about you, okay? I was scared yesterday, when we heard you were in the building.” Your eyes dart away, weight shifting. “I mean, we were all scared.”

Any annoyance Gibbs might’ve felt at being coerced into going home melted away. He turns toward you, lightly shrugging a single shoulder. “I’m okay.” He replies, his voice low like someone might hear. He even manages a light smirk to strengthen his words.

It works to bring a small smirk to your face, as well. Your eyes return to his, growing soft with a new smile that Gibbs was pleased to see. “Good. Because I like seeing you smile. It’d be a pity if we never saw it again.” He didn’t know until now just how worried you were about him. It makes all the bossing around make sense, in hindsight. And it makes Gibbs feel a bit like an ass for fighting you the whole way.

But then something unexpected happens. Gibbs must be more spacey than he’s ever been in his life, because he doesn’t even register you pulling him in for a hug until your arms are around his shoulders, squeezing tight. He feels your cheek press against his shoulder. Feels you inhale against his chest; deep, like you were assuring yourself that he really was okay.

Gibbs is still for a moment. Maybe two before his arms close around your torso. He squeezes just a little, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. True, he wasn’t expecting the hug, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t committing every single second of it to memory.

You pull away sooner than he wants. Smiling that same smile and giving his arm a pat, like that was a hug between two good friends. Gibbs supposes that’s what it was. To you, anyway.

“I better see you well-rested tomorrow, boss.”

You walk away from his desk, toward the elevator and probably a date with a man that wasn’t him.

And Gibbs wishes he could please you by getting a full night’s sleep and being well-rested tomorrow. But as he grabs his coat and weapon, Gibbs figures he’ll spend half the night in his basement, hoping the bourbon will erase feelings he didn’t know he had.

[antihero-writings]

The Things We Say Aloud—Pandora Hearts Fic for Phmonth18 Rainsworth Trio Week—Prompt 2: Family (Full Fic)

Fic Title: The Things We Say Aloud

Fic Synopsis: The Rainsworth Trio has a tradition of midnight snowball fights. But what if this is Break’s last?

Notes: This is another fic I wrote last Christmas (for the prompt “Rain”), but I think will work well for Phmonth18. I think it works best for the Rainsworth Trio Prompt 2: Family. You don’t have to have read the previous Christmas fic to understand it, but they are supposed to take place in the same year, and there are a few connections/references between them. (The other one is called “In Plain Sight” and you can read it on this blog, and/or at I_prefer_the_term_antihero ‘s Ao3!)

Out of all the PH fics I’ve written so far, this is honestly probably my favorite. I would deeply appreciate it if you commented to let me know you enjoyed it!

I feel like the Rainsworth Trio–especially Sharon and Break–don’t really talk about Break’s death, even though they know it’s coming. I thought it would be interesting to explore how such a conversation would go, and almost made myself cry writing it!

Also, point of interest, a song that I think works really well for the section of this fic where Break is pondering if it will be his last Christmas is “Into the Open Air” from the Brave soundtrack.

P.S. This is a repost of an old fic!

Fic:

Rain pounded its tune on the roof. It was the kind of rain that swarms the air, making it misty, grey, and cold with the buzzing of a thousand tiny drops.

It wasn’t that he disliked the rain. There will always be something about the rain that’s soothing to people dealing with sorrow. But rain like this; that pounds, and pounds, and doesn’t dissipate, sometimes serves to extend the mistiness inside too. Though it could be a rest, a relief, people like him always pray for the sun to come back. For sunny days and summer light were something people like him, with red eyes, and a past full of sin, knew they didn’t deserve, but couldn’t help seeking all the same.

Xerxes Break walked through the hallway of the Rainsworth manor. He wore his turquoise and gold outfit, half of his white hair falling across his shoulder, the other, shorter side, messily added to the covering the bandages provided—bandages over the place where his left eye should have been, though it rarely bled anymore.

As he passed by one of the rooms, he saw Sharon. She looked so small, but so regal, sitting on the windowsill, with her back to the glass, now frosted with condensation. Her chestnut hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she was wearing her little pink dress. The little girl was pouting, staring at the ground, her arms folded over her chest in the characteristic expression children wear when they don’t get their way.

He paused, resting his hand on the doorframe.

She lifted her head.

When she met his eyes, he remembered very quickly that was not in his skill set to comfort little girls.

When he glanced back, she was giving him a look that said Well? Aren’t you going to come comfort me?

He knew better than to disobey such a look. He took a deep breath and walked in, hopping up on the windowsill next to her.

Like the rain, it wasn’t that he disliked kids, he just didn’t know how to deal with them. When they cried and threw tantrums…in short, he didn’t know how to deal with emotion (well, strong ones anyways). He couldn’t help hoping that kids like her could stay happy, and innocent forever. Like he had hoped for his young mistress from another time, and seen it go so very wrong, then later heard, through his own interference, that he had made it go far worse. But children would have to get hurt, they would have to grow up, some day. And in turn, they would become the kinds of creatures who hurt, and caused pain, who even killed, and made excuses for it…creatures like himself.

Luckily, he found that Sharon was a much happier, much kinder, much stronger child than most.

When she didn’t speak—(he didn’t dare ask, for fear of making it worse)—he turned to look outside the window.

��Xerx-niisan,” she began at last, “Why is the sky crying?”

He turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

They weren’t siblings; they weren’t even remotely related. But for some reason, the name fixed itself in her mouth, and nothing he did or said could change that.

She could be a little tyrant sometimes.

At his misunderstanding, she continued to pout, averting her eyes. Then she jerked back to look at him, (he flinched a little), and said in a high pitched voice, “It’s almost Christmas! Why is it raining? It should be snowing!”

“Oh,” he relaxed a little, contemplating his response, “Well…it’s not going to stop raining just because you want it to. Sometimes,” he gave a sardonic smile that was more painful than the frown that seemed fixed on his face, looking away into the rain, as if he would find answers reading the drops, “things…people…that should be happy, just can’t be. And no matter how much you want something…”

He trailed off, and when he turned back, he saw tears welling in her eyes.

Nice going, Xerxes, you barely have to open your mouth to make a little girl cry.

There they were, brimming to the surface: all those emotions he didn’t know what to do with. He could only sit there, waiting for her own brand of rain to start, wanting more than anything to escape, to not have to figure out the right words to fix her.

It was the crying he hated the most. Maybe it was because it reminded him too much of a certain day, long ago, of a certain girl…but the snow did fall that day…

Still, he wasn’t going to tell her that if she just wished hard enough, if she believed in hope, the-general-goodness-of-the-world-and-its-inhabitants, and maybe a little bit of magic, that the snow would fall, that she could change things. Wishes were dangerous things, and he didn’t suggest anyone make them. You never know who, or what, might be listening.

Fortunately, before the tears reached her cheeks, Sharon’s mother, Shelly Rainsworth, appeared at the doorway. She looked almost exactly like an older version of her daughter, the same chestnut hair, the same smile that shined with a light of its own.

Upon seeing the tearful look on her daughter’s face, she marched into the room, put her hands on her hips, and turned to Break.

“Xerxes,” she said his name like he really was Sharon’s brother, “what did you say to her?”

“Why do you assume it was my fault, Shelly-sama?” he muttered, sounding like the child she was calling out.

“Let’s just say you have a habit of stepping on people’s feelings.”

He sighed. “I was only telling her that it won’t start snowing simply because she wants it to.”

“It’s almost Christmas, mother!” Sharon said like she was pleading her case, the tears reappearing in her eyes.

Shelly smiled, shaking her head.

“What am I going to do with you two?” she crouched down in front of Sharon, and paused, contemplating her own question for a moment. “Tell you what, sweetie; I can’t promise it’ll start snowing because you want it to, but I can promise this:” she pushed her daughter’s tears away, “The moment it starts snowing—or, I suppose,” she interrupted herself, “the moment there’s enough snow on the ground, but no later!—we’ll go outside, and have a snowball fight. How does that sound?”

“Really?” Sharon raised her head, the sadness lifting a little.

“Even if I’m busy, or it starts snowing in the middle of the night,” Shelly elaborated, grinning, “No, especially, if it’s in the middle of the night,” she placed a finger on Sharon’s nose, at which the little girl giggled, “I’ll wake you up—or you me—then, while everyone else is asleep, we’ll run around the house in just our pajamas and coats, we’ll wake Xerxes—”

“What?!” Break blurted out.

“Yes, we’ll wake Xerxes,” she repeated smirking, “drag him outside—”

“Do I get a say in this?!”

“Nope,” she grinned mischievously, “Don’t think I’m letting you get out of this one.”

“Tch.” He looked away.

She walked calmly to the couch, picked up one of the pillows, as if she was going to fluff it, brought it over to them, and smacked him with it.

He growled, his red eye starting to blaze, like some caged beast.

She threw the pillow back onto the couch, sighing, saying seriously, “I don’t want you sitting here on this windowsill forever…I know, somewhere inside you, there’s someone…” she pondered it, then smiled, saying simply, “Someone who’s not afraid. You’re stronger than you think. Deep down, I think, these sorts of things that seem childish, like snowball fights, and tea-parties,” she smirked, “fun things, you actually enjoy.”

He looked away, as if knowing he could only disappoint her.

She added softly, placing a finger on his chin, making him look at her,

“We’ll see that smile someday, Xerxes Break.”

He stared at her as she took her fingers away, then he blinked, averting his eyes again. murmuring something about, “Really, Shelly-sama…I’d just ruin—”

“Sharon,” Shelly interrupted his mutterings, turning to her daughter, “Do you think Xerxes should sit here sulking, day in and day out, or do you think he should join our snowball fight?”

“Xerx-niisan should come with us!” she didn’t even take a breath before she answered.

He stared into the little girl’s eyes, so full of hope, no question, no hesitation, just…kindness, endless kindness.

Shelly smiled at her daughter, which turned into devious smirk when she looked at him.

“Checkmate.”

He bit his lip before jumping back down to the ground, muttering incoherently his displeasure, knowing once they were set, he couldn’t change their minds.

They could be tyrants sometimes.

Most people wouldn’t have gone near him, much less want him to be a part of something…well, fun. He knew what people said about him. It didn’t matter, it had been a long time since he had cared what other people thought, plus, he more than welcomed the lack of company. But, the thing is, he knew they were right; he was creepy, and dark, and very, very dangerous. So, he too, often wondered why they had taken him in, why they treated him like something worth saving, worth dragging out of bed for snowball fights, and tea-parties, rather than being sure, like rest of the world was—like he was—that he would just darken everything with any amount of light in it.

That’s what Children of Misfortune were for, right?

A little girl, who should have been more scared of him than anyone, who should’ve wanted him as far away from her and her snowball fights than anyone, could not only go near him, but fail to hesitate as she bounded up to this dark-and-dangerous man, looked into that blood-red eye, and asked him why the sky was crying, gave him flowers, and called him “brother.”

And that was worth more to him than he would ever dare admit aloud.

*****

It was from nightmares about knights, and blood, little girls, dolls, and names that he never mentioned, that Xerxes Break awoke from.

Breath and heartbeat weighed heavily on his chest. Once the memories faded enough for him to remember that, though it may have been real, it was not now, he gritted his teeth together, slamming his fist into the wall behind him. He didn’t care how much pain was pulsating through his hand.

If only it would take his mind off the throbbing in his empty eye socket.

If he had been a weaker man, perhaps he would have screamed, even cried, perhaps he would have whispered something pitifully to the sheets about not wanting to remember again, not wanting nightmares like this one to show their faces in his head. But he had already made a wish, and these nightmares were its descendants. He didn’t have the authority to dream anymore.

All he had was the anger and regret surging through his body, and nowhere for it to go, except make his past a weapon that shattered him just as much as it did his enemies, into glass shards, and cold bones, and bloodstained roles.

Still, there was some part of him that hoped after so many years they would have stopped haunting him. And sure, maybe it wasn’t every night, but they did come. Perhaps that’s why they call them ghosts; There were too many horrors to be reminded of, too many sins to feel guilty for, too little he could do to fix it, and the nightmares were all too eager for the task. One lifetime was not enough for them to let him forget.

They say ‘there’s no rest for the wicked’, and his mind was often cruel enough to remind him.

When he raised his gaze, he saw that the curtain was open just slightly, and something in the sliver of window flickered.

The Mad Hatter sighed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

It was awfully cold.

He stepped up to the window, gently pulling back the curtain, just enough so he could see.

He drew in a breath softly, his eye widening at the view:

It was snowing.

There was enough moonlight to see flakes falling upon the grounds—which were cloaked in white by now.

Like that time years ago, for the whole month, the only thing that fell from the clouds was rain, and finally, the sky decided that Christmas Eve was no time to be laying in bed, sleeping, or else dreaming about past follies.

“Well, Shelly-sama, what do you think?” he spoke softly to the merciful sky, “One last snowball fight?” he paused a moment, turning, leaning against the window, as if waiting for an answer to be whispered in his ear.

He stepped over to his wardrobe, throwing a coat over his pajamas, taking up some winter gloves, putting on socks and boots, and, as always, placing Emily on his shoulder (she wouldn’t want to miss this).

Lighting the candelabra on his nightstand, he ventured into the hallway, making his way toward Sharon’s bedroom.

Opening the door as quietly as he could, he walked in, setting the light on her nightstand.

Sharon was sleeping soundly on her curtained bed, her hair splayed all over the sheets, wrinkled in the night’s sleep, and she hugged her pillow.

He resisted the urge to laugh at her un-proper appearance.

Break sat on the side of her bed, by her head, saying quietly,

“Ojousama.”

She stirred in her sleep, muttering something indecipherable.

He gently ran his hand through her hair, saying louder, “Sharon.”

She blinked open fuchsia eyes to see her servant.

“Break,” she muttered his name softly.

Slowly, she sat up, yawning, looking around.

“Break, what’re you…?” she began, fatigue weighing down her words, then shook it away by shaking her head, “What are you doing in my room?! In the middle of the night! How dare you wake me up!”

He knew what was coming next: she grabbed one of the pillows, and he dodged it before she hit him with it. “Do you think you can just come in here as you please?!”

“Really, Ojousama,” he laughed, standing back up, “You think I’d risk injury without good reason?”

She folded her arms over her chest, pouting. He walked over to the window, throwing open the curtain, standing beside it.

“This better not be one of your pranks, Break,” she muttered, walking over to the window.

“Relax. When have I ever been that cruel?”

She glared at him, as if to say I-could-name-a-few-times, then turned to the window, surveying the landscape outside.

Her aggravated expression broke for widened eyes and a smile.

“Break!” she exclaimed, all grievance forgotten, grabbing his hands and spinning him around, “It’s snowing!!” she let go of him, and jumped up on the bed, repeating, “It’s snowing!! It’s snowing!!”

He smirked, folding his arms over his chest; No matter how old she really was, she still looked like that little kid to him.

“What do you say?” he helped her down from the bed, “One last snowball fight?”

“What are you talking about ‘one last’?” she grabbed the pillow and managed to catch him off guard this time. “You better not be talking about that again!”

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she dropped the pillow and ran over to her wardrobe, found a little coat to throw over her nightshirt, boots, and gloves, then handed him a ribbon to tie her hair back.

“Ready?” he tapped her on the shoulder when he had finished tying her hair.

She nodded, beaming.

They weren’t too far from Reim’s room when Break asked her to hold the candelabra, and stepped down the stairs to the front door.

“Where are you going?” she asked, “Reim’s room is this way.”

“This will only take a moment,” he grinned.

She put her hand on her hip, scowling at him as he ran out the front door. Quickly he returned, with the first snowball in his gloved hand.

“Break! Just what are you intending to do with that?!”

“You’ll see!” said Emily.

Sharon sighed, placing her head in her hand.

Reim stayed at the Rainsworth’s often enough that he had his own room (albeit, not a very fancy one). They quietly entered it to see the servant laying on a bed, much neater than either of theirs, facing away from them. His glasses, and some extra paperwork he just couldn’t leave at work, lay dormant on his nightstand.

Break tiptoed up to his friend, gently pulled back the collar of his shirt, and stuffed a snowball down the back of his shirt.

It was a moment before it took effect, but when it did, Reim skyrocketed out of bed, dancing around, until the snow fell onto the floor.

Break could barely contain his laughter.

He rested his hands on his knees panting. When he regained his bearings enough to figure out what had just happened, and saw Break laughing, he shouted,

“XERXES, YOU BASTARD!!”

Reim lunged at Break, at which the older man only needed to step out of the way, to make Reim trip onto the floor.

“Yes, a tired Reim-san, without his glasses, is definitely a match for me,” he remarked, leaning over him,

“A normal Reim-san isn’t exactly a match either!” Emily squeaked.

“Now, now Emily,” Break chided his doll playfully, “we mustn’t rub this sort of thing in people’s faces.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Reim’s voice was muffled by the floor

Break laughed, “Is that so?”

“All in good fun!” Emily chirped.

“It’s not fun for me!” he retorted, sitting up, “How can your idea of fun be tormenting your best friend!” Reim got up off the floor and sat on his bed.

“Come now, Reim-san, ‘torment’ is a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I meant what I said! I mean, who in their right mind thinks a good way to wake their friend up is to stuff freezing-cold snow—”

He interrupted himself, looking at each of them with question in his eyes. He repeated the word, “Snow…?”

Sharon and Break grinned at each other.

Break helped his friend up, saying, “And whoever said I was in my right mind? Didn’t you know? All the best people are mad.”

Reim rolled his eyes.

Sharon and Break stepped up to the window to unveil the answer to his question. Reim followed to inspect the view outside.

Then he looked at each of them, shaking his head and smiling. “Really, you two, after all these years…”

He trailed off, going over to his wardrobe to put on the winter clothes he kept there.

They barely had time to blow out the candles before Sharon grabbed both their hands and dragged them out into the moonlit hall.

They were like little kids trying to get a peek at Santa; bumbling down the hall, almost falling over each other, shushing each other, as they made their way through the manor, down the stairs, out the front door, into the cold grounds.

Even with their winter clothing, the cold still crept in. The snow muffled ordinary sounds, falling seamlessly, sparks of scattered moonlight gleaming off the flakes.

“So, we’ll—” Reim was interrupted by Break throwing a snowball at the back of his head.

“Oy! I was talking!” he whirled around.

“What’s there to talk about, Reim-san?” Break tossed another snowball up and down in his hand.

“I was simply—”

This time it was Sharon who threw the snowball at his face.

“Nice shot, Ojousama,” Break mentioned.

“Thank you,” she grinned, “You’re next, Xerx-niisan.”

“Alright, you two are going down,” Reim challenged.

“That’s more like,” Break smirked.

It didn’t make sense that three adults could have so much fun doing something so childish as playing in the snow. But between exploding snow and shouting, their laughter was what radiated like light from the scene. Maybe they forgot they weren’t children, they forgot that they had grown up things to do, responsibilities to attend to, and that the world was really comprised of blood and pain, and worthless names, not innocence and friendship.

The mad tea party, forever trapped in a moment, forgotten by time.

It was a while later when another voice broke through:

“Hey, what are you guys doing?”

They paused, turning to see Oz at one of the balconies.

“Our humblest apologies, Oz-sama!” Reim shouted back, bowing low, “We didn’t intend to be so loud!”

“No worries!” he yawned, “Are you…having a snowball fight?”

“That’s right, Oz-kun,” Break answered, “Would you like to join us?”

“Really?! You’ll let me?!”

“Sure,” he tossed a snowball up and down in his hand again, “but we certainly won’t be going easy on you!”

Oz beamed. “Hang on a sec! Lemme grab Gil and Alice!”

Not long afterwards, they heard the all-too-familiar sounds of Gilbert and Alice shouting, and they their annoyed faces appeared on the balcony.

“Why are you three having a snowball fight at 6:00 in the morning!” Gilbert yelled down to them.

“Oh? You scared you didn’t make the cut?” Break taunted . “Clown! Is this your doing?!” Alice demanded, “I’ll come down there and make you pay for waking me up!”

As Break spoke to them, Reim saw it as an opportunity to get his own revenge, and snuck up behind him. Break, of course, still heard him coming and, once again, tripped him, as he got close.

Break walked around him in a circle, grinning shaking his head, “You’re going to have to try harder than that to beat me.”

Reim gave an expression akin to Gilbert’s evil eye.

Break kicked some snow onto his head as he walked by, just to rub it his face (quite literally).

Oz, Gilbert, and Alice tumbled down the front steps, already laughing and yelling at each other before they even joined the fight.

“Well look who it is,” Break taunted, leaning over them, then Emily continued,

“The dumb bunny, the spoiled brat, and—” he didn’t get to finish, because the two lunged at him.

There weren’t really any teams, or way of keeping score—it was everyone against everyone else, though each of them had their own approach: Gilbert had a more meticulous method; creating a stash of snowballs, and walls to hide behind, (often getting hit in the building process). Oz was would sneak up on people, and took particular pleasure in knocking down, or stealing, Gil’s hard work, while Alice ran around pelting everyone in sight, holding a particular grudge against anyone who landed a hit on her (who were mostly Break and Oz).

Near the end of their fight, as Break snuck up on Sharon, just about to land a hit on her, he found himself falling, and was then somehow on the other side of the yard,

He paused to regain his bearings, and stood back up to his full height, quickly discerning what had happened.

“Is that really fair, Ojousama?” he called across the yard, knowing she had used her Chain.

She chuckled like it was a trivial offense, “Since when have you cared what’s fair Xerx-niisan?”

Well, she got me there.

It was at this moment he felt a rush of cold! against his neck, and tensed, resisting the urge to spill some choice words. He spun around to see that Reim had been waiting behind a nearby tree and, as he addressed his mistress, Reim had managed to get the perfect revenge.

Break pulled back his shirt to make sure the snow fell, scowling at his friend.

“Say it,” Reim folded his arms over his chest.

“What? That you got me?”

Reim’s expression was unmoving.

“I’ll say nothing of the sort, Reim-san,” he flicked his glasses, “After all, you merely copied me. You should be more creative next time.”

Reim’s fingers curled into fists, practically growling at him.

“I didn’t know we could use Chains!” Oz called, running up to them, having noticed Sharon’s expert use of Eques, (but not the following exchange between Break and Reim.)

“Seaweed-head! Release my limiter!” Alice shouted when she heard, “I want to smash the clowny bastard to smithereens!”

“Is that so?” Break called, “You really want to go down that path, Alice-kun?” Break smirked evilly, “My Mad Hatter would destroy you before Gilbert-kun even had the chance.”

“You wanna go, clown!” Alice hollered, and Gilbert had to hold her back to keep her from rushing at him with teeth and claws.

Reim looked worried, and Oz—wearing a similar expression—spoke in hushed tones, “No, Alice! You don’t want to go up against his Mad Hatter!”

“Try me, Manservant!”

“Break! No one wants to see you killing yourself over some stupid fight with some little girl!” Gilbert scolded.

“Oy! Who you callin’ ‘some little girl’?!” Alice snapped at Gilbert.

That seemed to return Reim to his senses,

“That’s right!” Reim scolded, “What did I tell you about being reckless with your powers?!”

“Always so tense, you two,” he walked up to Alice and ruffled her hair, “I’m only teasing.”

Alice broke free, and the fight resumed, though the others were glad to see neither managed to draw blood, and that it quickly returned to the antics of the snowy game.

And for one brief moment, Break forgot about everything else. About the nightmares, the regrets, and the answers he clung to so desperately as a reason to keep himself from falling further. And for one moment, he could see those flickering lights behind dark eyes, and he was happy he could feel the cold biting his skin, he was happy he could see their faces—rosy-cheeked, all smiles and laughs, even if they were yelling at him—for one precious flicker of a moment, he was happy to be alive.

That moment would end. The shadows would crawl back from the corners of his mind, the smiles would become fake again, the world would become a wax museum of happiness. Reasons that were just that, empty reasons; desire had left them behind in an alleyway long ago, for better, darker wishes. The pain would come back, and once again he’d convince himself, I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care about them. About what happens to me. The snow white chaos would return to tears too fast. But in this moment, it was okay. He was okay.

Sharon and Reim ran at him, but instead of getting out of the way, this time he let them bowl him over, the three of them collapsing in the snow.

Shock flitted across their faces, which broke for smiles.

He wanted to say he was sorry. He wanted to tell them over and over I love you both so very much. But he wasn’t the only one who knew that those words falling from Xerxes Break’s lips was all too close to admitting defeat. Because if he admitted he cared, then he wouldn’t be able to let them go when the end came. And he knew it would come all too soon. His lips wouldn’t dare betray him with such miserable words.

So they settled for a smile.

His real smile. Not the smirks and grins he gave away at a moment’s notice. The smile that was barely perceptible, but which, for them, captured within its folds more sunlight than anything else in their world.

Sharon and Reim glanced at each other, then smiled back at him, deciding not to sully the moment with words.

And, as soon as it came, the true smile was replaced with a smirk.

“You two really are gullible,” he put snow in their hair.

They jumped up, shouting his name, trying to rub it out, then quickly ran after him.

He couldn’t tell them the truth. He couldn’t tell them that he was thinking how this might be his last Christmas. He couldn’t tell them how he was wondering if they would still put his stocking on the mantelpiece when he was gone.

He didn’t get a chance to anyways, because it wasn’t long afterwards when beads of citrus and crimson light began tracing the navy sky.

They paused, panting, raising their eyes to look into the sunrise.

For a moment they stared silently at the art the morning made of daybreak, gentle smiles tracing their lips at the beauty.

Then Oz broke in, exclaiming,

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

“Merry Christmas!” they answered, a little tiredly.

“What do you guys think?” Reim asked, “Ready to go inside?”

“Aww, but we were having so much fun!” Oz protested, trying to mask the fatigue in his voice.

“Easy for you to say, we’re exhausted!”

“To be fair, we were out here much longer than them,” Break panted, realizing just how tired he was. “Perhaps I have gotten old after all. If you youngin’s want to go on—” he flapped a shirt sleeve their direction.

“There he goes again calling himself old!”

Sharon broke in, “Don’t you want to open presents?”

“Presents?!” Oz repeated, like a dog who had seen a squirrel, glancing at Gilbert and Alice, his grin widening.

They began to make their way inside, still laughing and talking about the plays they each had made, and how they would eventually get each other back. As they walked back, instead of joining the conversation, Sharon gently tugged on the corner of Break’s coat, holding him back.

He turned to see that instead of the tired, but joy-full smile that had traced her face moments earlier, she was hanging her head low.

“Ojousama?” he asked worriedly, crouching down beside her, seeing tears begin to grace her cheeks.

The others noticed, and stopped too.

“Xerxes! What did you do?!” Reim demanded.

“Yeah, Break! How dare you make a girl cry on Christmas?!” Oz questioned, running up to her.

He rolled his eyes at them.

“I’m fine, everyone,” Sharon reassured them, giving a somewhat plastered smile, “I’ll just be a moment.”

They all glanced at each other, knowing something was clearly wrong.

“Are you sure?” Gilbert asked.

“Yeah, Sharon-chan, if you need something—”

“Yes. Please, go inside. Break and I will catch up with you.”

They glanced at each other.

“Alright, Sharon-chan. Just let us know if you need anything, okay?” Oz put a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Oz-sama,” she smiled.

The others gave similar smiles back to her, then they gave Break a collective you-better-not-make-this-worse look before walking up the stairs into the manor.

“Sharon?” he asked softly.

No matter how many years went by, he still couldn’t handle the sight of a child in tears.

“Xerx-niisan,” he could tell she was fighting back against the tears, “What if… What if this is your last Christmas?”

He gasped; he didn’t expect her to be thinking about the same thing.

“What if…” she continued, breath taut, “What if we never get to have another snowball fight? What if…?”

“Well,” he rubbed his neck, looking away, “you and Reim can still—”

“Don’t act like everything will be the same when you’re gone!” she threw snow into his face.

He fell back onto his elbows, gently brushing it out of his hair. After a moment a laugh bubbled in his throat, and he put his hand on his face.

“What’s so funny?!” she demanded, scowling.

Obviously that was the wrong thing to do.

If only she had chosen someone else to comfort her; someone like Oz, who could read the situation, and chose his words carefully. Or Gilbert, who was sensitive enough to understand. Even Reim would be better, despite his rather unemotional, straightforward nature. But she had chosen him.

“It’s funny…to tell you the truth,” his voice became more serious, “It’s just…I was thinking about the same thing.”

Shock added to the concoction of hurt and yearning in her eyes.

“Y-You were?”

He looked at the ground and nodded ever so slightly.

“How dare you laugh at that?” she balled a fist in the snow, but the strength seemed to leave her.

She shook her head, tears fluttering back to her eyes, “You can’t…Xerx-niisan, you can’t! I…I don’t want to be alone!” she put her arms around him and fell onto him.

His eye was wide, his breath harsh and cold as he looked at the girl in his arms, forgetting for a less than a moment that she was not that little girl in a darkened room, surrounded by coffins.

He shook his head of the memory.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have Reim, and Sheryl-sama, and—”

She lifted her head to scowl at him, as if to say must-I-repeat-what-I-said and he cleared his throat, changing his method of attack.

“Well, I won’t go down easy, that’s for sure. But, despite how it might seem,” he gently ran his finger along her cheek, giving that sad but true smile, and whispered, “I am not that strong.”

“You think you can talking about you dying all the time and I’ll just—?!” she tried to fight back, to be angry, but her words fell like the snow, and she murmured again, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder, and whispered back, “Xerx-niisan…”

He gently wrapped his own arms around her.

“I want to be there for you…” she murmured, “I don’t want you to do something stupid…You’re always running into fights without a second thought…” she sobbed for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could…maybe we could stop it? I-I could go into the fights with Eques…Oz-sama and Gilbert-sama—”

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and as she lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him with the wide and teary eyes of her younger self. The look in his eyes was enough to say I’m sorry, Sharon.

“It’s just like I told you, Ojousama,” he ran his fingers through her hair, and murmured into her ear, “No matter how much I may want it to, I can’t stop it from raining.”

She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.

“No matter how much we might want it to, we can make the snow fall. Our wishes can’t change things. Even if…” his words were blown by the wind into the stars.

She shook her head gently, murmuring that name.

“Just promise me you won’t make any illegal contracts to bring me back,” he laughed a little, which turned into a grimace, and she knew just how serious he was being.

She smiled for the first time since the conversation started. “I promise.”

For a moment they sat there, together, in a sort of limbo, watching as the sunrise turned into a light blue sky—a present sorrow caught between the earlier joy, wondering which emotion of the two would soon come. Moments were so finicky.

“I can’t promise I’ll have another Christmas, but we still have today. Let’s not waste it with talking about depressing things.”

She nodded, smiling.

He gently reached down and picked her up.

“Xerx-niisan!” she protested at first.

He touched her nose with his finger.

After a moment, as he took her inside, she rested her head against him sleepily, murmuring, “Xerx-niisan, I don’t want…I don’t want you to pretend you’re okay for my sake.”

His eye widened and he jerked his head to look at her.

“Don’t give me that look,” she responded, “I know you do it. You think I can’t handle it.”

He took a deep breath, “I’m fine, Ojousama,” he murmured, and smiled, “It’s Christmas, after all.”

She shook her head, “No you’re not!”

Once again he kissed her head gave her his real smile, “No, really, Sharon. I am. At least for today.”

The smile she returned was real too.

And that was worth far more to them than either of them needed to say aloud.

[youngjaelook]

Starless Sky — Jackson Wang

author’s note — sorry this took so long! im working on a few imagines atm so please be patient for those hehehe. not my best work just fyi lmao. also i feel like i write too much GOT7, like not that its a bad thing, but i feel like i need to write about more groups u know what i mean ahsjdkksd anyways hope u guys like this imagine, again a big shout out to @fentitrbl ilysm thanks for being patient and so supportive! #UNEDITED 

This is part of a drabble series: Come Spring Day found here! and Yes drabble found here!

summary — Under a starless sky, you and Jackson welcome your first child. 

warnings  — miscarriage, & slight angst.

word count  — 1.5K

Jackson sits in an empty room. And each of it's four walls are painted yellow — yellow is meant to symbolize happiness, clarity. Yet, Jackson feels neither of those. In fact, he feels nothing at all; he feels hollow and cold inside.

At that moment, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and tears in his honey brown eyes, he thinks he is Atlas; condemned to hold the weight of the sky forever. But its only been hours, yet it feels like eternity.

"Jackson," he hears your voice in his ear. "come back to bed." Like a stubborn child, he refuses with his silence, still on the cold floor, drinking his worries away.

He knows its wrong, he knows its hurting you more than it hurts him, but Jackson doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what to say.

For the first time in a long time, Jackson feels hopeless, futile almost.

It's not until he hears you sniffle that he turns around to spare you a glance.

The moment your tears become to overwhelming, spilling from the brim of your eyes, Jackson has his arms around you, caging you with his body as he murmurs sweet nothings and incoherent apologies into your hair.

There's an unbearable feeling of guilt that settles into his bones, it bites and nips at the strings of his hearts when your sobs get louder, and your body shakes with sadness and fear. He feels the same way, though he will never get to experience your pain, the torture you're going through.

And as his lips press against yours tenderly, he wishes he could take all your suffering and hurt away.

"Please," your voice is soft, on the verge of breaking. "let's just go back to sleep."

Jackson follows you to bed with no sound. He has one arm around you, the pads of his fingertips brushing against the prominent bulge of your stomach, and it reminds him of the fate it brings.

As you both lay on top of cold, cotton sheets, Jackson speaks. "I don't want to lose you," he murmurs into the dim room. "nor do I want to lose a baby again."

You don't turn to face him, afraid that if you did, you'd worry him even more. You were more than aware that one of these days, your life would be at risk, along with your and Jackson's unborn child.

The faint memory of losing your child for the first time is clear as day in your head. It was April, and the flowers were starting to bloom and the birds outside flocked the trees, humming with delight in the spring morning. Jackson had been out of Seoul for the past few weeks, promoting some designer shoe brand in Italy.

You were four months pregnant, going on five in a matter of few weeks. You were already showing, and you, along with Youngjae, went out to buy a few maternity clothes because your clothes were starting to get a little too tight. And besides, buying new clothes isn't such a bad thing.

Youngjae was in the middle of suggesting to get this burgundy sweater just in case you ever got cold in the apartment, when you had felt it, the odd sensation of wetness dripping down the sides of your legs. "My water broke?"

Youngjae could only stare in horror.

Crimson dripped down your thighs like rain drops falling against a window. You don't remember much after that, you only knew Youngjae had called Jackson, who literally got on a plane the second he hung up the phone, and that you had lost a child.

The whole thing had been plastered on every tabloid, and Jackson's company had to do some major damage control. The headlines still haunt you to this day, you can only imagine what it's like for Jackson.

Nearly a year later, you and Jackson have been trying, and at first, when you had found out that you had fallen pregnant once again, the two of you were thrilled. Then after one specific trip to the doctors sent the two of you back five steps.

She had described in detail that this pregnancy would have complications and that you might have to have an emergency C-section if your child wouldn't dilate in time. She also reminded the both of you that, you wouldn't only lose the child, but that there was a high possibility that Jackson would lose you, too.

"You won't lose us, Jackson." Your sweet voice doesn't do much to calm the racing of his heart, instead it crushes him and sends a shot of hot electricity through his veins. And the sound of your voice is haunting him as you fall asleep beside him, and as the sun rises from behind the hills.

The days don't get easier as they pass.

Trips to the hospital are a constant, so are sharp pains in your belly. Jackson, instead of being supportive and staying right beside you, has grown distant and detached, only ever talking to you when you ask a question, or when you suggest names for the baby, other than that it's just silence and shrugs.

It's nearly half past eight and Jackson's side of the bed is empty and cold, and you don't even wonder where he is because you know he's in the nursery, sulking like always.

You want to empathize with him, but he's making it so hard for you to even feel one empathetic bone in your body. He doesn't acknowledge how difficult it is for you, only ever thinking about himself and how he feels.

Your blood boils, while tears blur your vision.

You throw the sheets off of you, and practically march to the nursery, ignoring the pain that shoots up to your stomach.

Jackson stands in the middle of the room, this time, no bottle of alcohol in hand. He just stands there, lustrous brown eyes admiring the yellow paint, the soft cashmere blankets draped over the rocking chair by the corner, the blank picture frames hung above the crib.

You're opening your mouth to speak, but there's a ringing in your ears, and you can't hear yourself.

"Jackson —"

It all happens so fast, blood spilling down your legs, Jackson screaming your name, your knees crippling.

Jackson is sure he's never moved so fast in his entire life. He grabs the bags by your bedroom door, his phone in hand while the other keeps you steady as he guides you to the passenger seat.

He's driving above the speed limit and he's thanking God that there's barely any cars on the road tonight.

"Just breathe, baby," he reaches over the console to hold your hand, half of him expects you to swat him away and curse him out for being practically the worst partner in the world, but you take his hand without hesitancy, with no traces of bitterness and resentment evident on your face. You take his hand and bring it to your lips.

He gets you to the hospital in ten minutes tops. He's rushing you to the emergency room, a trail of blood following you wherever you go.

There a group of doctors and nurses that rush to get you on a wheelchair, and Jackson can only watch as you yelp in pain. As they whisk you away, Jackson has flashbacks of the last time this had happened.

Everything was different back then, the two of you were nervous, sure, but you were ecstatic none the less. Jackson had the nursery all planned out, the baby's name, he even thought of who the baby would look like the most and of course, he said the baby would look like him. Then when the time finally came, and you pushed for the last time, no cry could be heard, just panicked mumbling and shouts to get the baby into another room.

You never got the chance to see your baby before it breathed it's last breath, you just watched helplessly as they rushed to resuscitate it.

Jackson's scared that history might repeat itself. So, as he waits for nearly eight hours with his head between his knees, praying to every and any god out there to bless him.

The sky is still dark outside and there are no stars to be found when they finally call him in to the room. There's a small smile on the nurse's face, but that does nothing to stop the rapid beating of Jackson's heart, or the profuse sweating of his hands. He's worried, overthinking things until his head spins and he can't breath properly.

Then as the doors open, and he spots you on a hospital bed, a bundle of white in your arms, he turns into a blubbering mess.

Jackson is careful while he gathers you in his arms, finally at peace with himself and the universe as he stares at his daughter. "My princess," he whispers.

He kisses you softly on your temple, and smiles against your skin. "I think she looks a lot like me, right?" He jokes, and you're surprised you find energy to even laugh a little.

"Jackson-ah," you whine.

Jackson kisses your forehead again, and chuckles. "I'm kidding, baby." he says. "She looks a lot like you."

You frown. "It hasn't even been an hour Jackson, she still looks like a potato."

[gryffvndors]

uncommon alliances: part three

summary: you take advantage of the fact that pansy literally doesn’t care about house security, and decide to sleep in the slytherin common room with daphne and draco. also, the hogsmeade four has a lengthy discussion about dicks.

word count: ~3900

a/n: hi guys im back from the dead w another part of this series that has, essentially, no plot bc don’t we all love pwp! (; potter without plot!! what did u think i meant??? anyway there’s a discussion about dicks in here so if u dont wanna read that, it’s near the end, just ctrl+f “upside-down” and u’ll skip it, it’s just for a laughhhh

part zero  part one  part two

“It is far too early for this,” you mumble, eyelids fluttering. The option of settling back into the black leather sofa you’re sinking into and shutting your eyes to drift off is far too appealing - next to you, Daphne pokes you in the ribs, snorting when you let out a hysterical giggle. She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her forehead on them, body shaking with laughter. Your eyes are too heavy, world too incoherent to join in and make fun of yourself, so instead, you just sigh and lean forward to grab your mug of tea.

“Stop laughing at me, Daph, ‘m tired ‘nd I didn’t mean to,” you whine softly, hands wrapped around the mug. You bring it up to your lips and sip at it. The hot liquid - scalding liquid, Merlin’s fucking pants, that is burning your tongue right off- “Fuck, tha’ ih ho’-!”

Daphne raises her head and takes in the image of you coughing and letting the tea dribble back into the mug, then bursts into even louder, more violent laughter. “Y-you look s-so-” she chokes out in between gulps of air a minute later, “that is g-gross, oh my goodness-”

Scowling at the tea, you set the mug back on the table and huff. “Well, I’m awake now,” you mutter, scowling. Your friend wraps her delicate arms around your body and squeezes, her blonde ponytail hanging in your face. You relax, hugging Daphne back. When she pulls away, her pretty face is split in half by a huge grin; Daphne rests her head on your shoulder and stretches her legs out so her socked feet are crossed at the ankles on the table, right next to your tea. Behind you, you hear the distant sound of feet thumping on stairs. A familiar scoff greets you in lieu of a hello, and you have to fight not to break out in a smile. It’s crazy how you know who it is just by the sound of his annoyed exhales, but you decide not to think about it, or else, in your half-asleep state, you might become too sappy and scare him away. You’ve never seen sleepy Draco - that would be too vulnerable of him, and Draco doesn’t do vulnerable - but you can imagine that he wouldn’t be sappy or clingy. You, on the contrary, are very huggy when you’re sleepy, hence the fact that you and Daphne are practically cuddling in the Slytherin common room.

Draco shuffles around to stand in front of you, arms crossed and lips puckered in a confused sort of pout. “What… are you doing here,” he asks. “This is the Slytherin common room. Stop cuddling with Daphne and go back to the trash you call living quarters.”

The corners of your mouth spread into a slow, lazy smirk. “Oh, but Draco-” you pat the seat next to you, the one connected to the arm of the couch. “Come cuddle with us. It’s so cold in here, and we’re so lonely. We’re all alone.”

Daphne nods in agreement. She pats the back of your hand and murmurs, “Come on, Draco, we’re lonely.”

“You have each other. You aren’t lonely,” Draco says, but inches forward a little. He glances at the seat, then to you and Daphne, then back to the seat again.

“Why did you even come down here if you didn’t want to cuddle with us?”

He rolls his eyes and retorts, “I was going back to my dorm from the bathroom and I thought I heard your annoying laugh. The one you do when somebody pokes you in your side. I wanted to see if you were actually here so I could tell you to go away. Why are you here, anyway?”

Your smirks grows wider as you say, “Come join us and I’ll fill you in.”

After a staring contest between you two (which is filled with Daphne’s quiet giggles), Draco huffs out a, “…Fine. But only because I’m curious, and not because I want to cuddle with you.”

“Mmm. Sure. Come on…” You untangle one arm from Daphne and hold it out to him. Draco tentatively takes a seat, sighing when you snuggle into his side without restraint. He begrudgingly wraps an arm around you. Daphne doesn’t unattach herself, so it soon becomes a train of cuddling. The prospect makes you giggle into Draco’s chest. He tucks his legs underneath him and glances down at you, blushing and looking away when he sees you already staring at him.

“So,” he clears his throat, gaze trained on the floor, “why is a Gryffindor like you in the Slytherin common room at… five in the morning on a Saturday?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you slur. You slide down so your head is resting in his lap. Draco stiffens and, for a second, you think he’s going to push you off. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair. Surprised (and a bit overjoyed), you shut your eyes and relish in the feeling of the boy you like playing with your hair, joined by the presence of one of your best friends. For a few minutes, the three of you engage in tired, slurred conversation that has much to do with nothing. Daphne murmurs something about wanting a necklace from a jewelry store at Hogsmeade. At the mention of the town, you announce that you’ve been searching for a book on Quidditch Beaters that they don’t have stocked in the library, and you hope it’s at one of the bookstores there. Draco mutters his wish for firewhiskey. You only get to hear half of his sentence, because by the end of it, your mind has drifted off to a warm, comfortable sleep.

“Malfoy, Greengrass - why is Weasley here?”

You open one eye. Before you stands one of the Slytherin Prefects, Zoey Cross, a seventh year, with one eyebrow raised and an unimpressed expression on her face. You remember a couple years ago, when the older twins went to school, Fred dated her for a couple months. They were pretty serious, too. Something happened between her and another guy and they broke it off, but after, you’d noticed them pining from afar. When you told Fred, he said he didn’t want to talk about it.

“She couldn’t sleep,” Draco responds softly. “Don’t wake her up, she hasn’t been sleeping well.”

You quickly shut your eye so Zoey doesn’t see you. From the tinge of amusement in her voice when she replies, she’s already noticed your consciousness. “Right…” Zoey muses. “Well, there’s no use in kicking her out if she just comes back inside. Her Weasley genes make her prone to that sort of behavior. Stop telling her the password.”

You snort, chomping on your lip to restrain the smirk that threatens to spill past your lips. “But you told Fred the password,” you crumble and finally mumble, snickering. “And you knew the Gryffindor password.” You open both of your eyes, then, automatically meeting Zoey’s cinnamon brown eyes. She narrows them, sending you A Look. You respond by sending you one of her own. “Checkmate, Cross.”

“Fred and I were in a committed, monogamous, public relationship,” Zoey purses her lips. “And you? Who are you currently in a committed, monogamous, public relationship with in Slytherin? Certainly not Greengrass, what with her relationship with Hemmings-”

“I am not dating Kit Hemmings, Cross-”

“Daphne,” groans Draco. “Hemmings, of all the people? He’s such as ass-”

“Oh, rich, coming from you, Daddy’s Boy-”

“Can it, sister, I caught you two snogging in the boys’ dormitory the other night. And shut up, Malfoy, you’re the biggest prick of the entire Slytherin house. And don’t pull that He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named bullshit, you know I’m talking about modern years. Anyway, we’re waiting, Weasley.”

Your leer melts into a frown. You sit up; Daphne scoots aside so you can fit in between her and a tense, pouting Draco. From Zoey’s triumphant power stance, she knows she hit a nerve. ‘Stupid Slytherins,’ you think, huffing. It’s like they can read minds, or something. It’s like they can sniff your insecurities and manipulate them.

Before you can spit out a, “Nobody,” through clenched teeth, Draco takes a deep breath and mumbles, “Me.”

You, Daphne, and Zoey, in unison, say, “What.” and gape at him.

Daphne recovers first, snapping her fingers and pointing at the Prefect. “See! She has permission from her boyfriend!” The word makes you and Draco flinch. Daphne rages on excitedly. “So she can be in here! Because you let her brother in here when you dated him! I remember, you know, you two would always snog in that armchair over there and I’d have to stop Astoria from staring. She stares a lot-”

“Okay, okay,” Zoey holds her hands up in surrender. “I’ll back off. But, since Ethan’ll hound me if I don’t, I’m taking one point from Gryffindor every time I catch you in here after today.”

You snap out of your shock enough to nod and force out a, “Gryffindor loses so many points a week, it’ll hardly matter.”

She laughs, “I guess you’re right… I’ll leave you to it, then. Oh, and Weasley-” you raise an eyebrow. “If you’re wanting breakfast, I’d suggest you go down there now, before your brother eats all of it. Last I saw, he was on his third plate.”

Rolling your eyes and mumbling something under your breath, you slide off the couch. Draco snorts, getting up and helping Daphne to her feet. “She’s not much better,” he mumbles, making you turn around and slap his arm. “Don’t slap me, you imbecile, you know it’s true!”

“Doesn’t mean you have to say it, Draco!”

Zoey glances between you two and rolls her eyes. “I’m going upstairs. Weasley, remember what I said.”

As she ascends up the stairs, you call, “You should owl Fred sometime. He misses you.”

“I’ll… take that into consideration.” She turns and flashes you a small smile. “…Thanks.”

The three of you watch her vanish into the girls’ dormitory. As soon as she’s gone, you point an accusing finger to your friend. “You didn’t tell me about Hemmings!”

Daphne groans and covers her face with her hands. She shakes her head, blonde hair whipping around to hit Draco in the face. You try to suppress a laugh; instead, it comes out as a rather strangled noise deep in your throat like you’re being throttled. “I’ll tell you later with the rest of the girls, okay? At Hogsmeade. I promise!” She leans forward to grab your crossed arms, dark green eyes boring intensely into yours. Sighing, you shrug. “Thank you for not being upset with me! I wanted to say something to everyone at once! Okay, well, I’m going to leave you two alone and go down to the Great Hall.” As she skips to the exit, she spins and does a weird backwards skip/jog thing that nearly makes her trip. After she recovers, she points at you with both hands. “Noon! Bye, Draco!”

Daphne leaves the common room in her pajamas, which you let her go in just because you’re too lazy to say anything about it. And then there were two. You stand about a foot away from him, too aware of the awkward silence between you two. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. You purse your lips and raise your gaze to meet Draco’s.

“So…” you begin, shifting weight between your feet. You should just go on and say it. Neither of you are getting any younger here, and you’re not one for unnecessary tension; quite on the contrary, you prefer to just get everything out in the open. “Boyfriend?”

He takes a sudden interest in the fireplace. Clearing his throat, Draco shoves his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants and shrugs. “Is that okay?”

“Uh - yeah! Yeah, it’s fine with me. Just a little… surprising, is all. Um, public? We’re public now?”

“Well, Daphne seemed to already know about it. If she knows, then Pansy and Millicent do, as well. It was just a matter of time,” Draco pauses. “How do you think Weasel will react?” If you didn’t think the idea so insane, you’d reckon Draco actually looks nervous. Or something of the sort.

“Badly,” you admit, shrugging. “But I don’t care. It isn’t his relationship, it’s mine. He has no business in my relationships. He tried it with Ginny and Dean earlier in the year - we both put an end to that.” Smirking, you remember the Dean Era. You can’t recall whether or not Michael was before or after - Harry’s definitely here to stay for a while, which is something you couldn’t be happier about.

Draco is saying something when you snap out of your thoughts. You see him stroll to the staircase to the boys’ dormitory - you call after him, throwing your hands in the air. “Where are you going?” Draco raises a brow. “I’m getting dressed. Were you not listening to me while I was speaking?”

“Uh, no.”

He rolls his eyes, then turns back to the stairs. “That is your loss, not mine. You should get changed, too. I’ll see you later in Hogsmeade, okay?”

You mumble, “Yeah, fine, whatever,” and head for the common room entrance. On your way, you pass Crabbe and Goyle - instead of sending them a huge grin, like you do Blaise and Theo, you merely nod to them. You’re not quite there with them yet.

“Where have you been?” Questions Ron immediately as you step through the Fat Lady’s portrait. He rises from the armchair that faces the Gryffindor common room exit; you pass him, nudging his shoulder with your hand on your way to the girls’ dormitory. “You’re wearing the same clothes you were yesterday! Is my little sister doing the Walk of Shame?!”

“Twins,” you remind him with a smile. “We’re twins. One minute doesn’t count. And I just crashed with a few friends, nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I didn’t sleep with anyone, not that it is any of your business even if I did.”

“What? You don’t have any friends. You have - you have us! Me, ‘Mione, Harry, and Ginny!” A moments hesitation, then, “Were you with Luna?”

“Ron! I said it’s none of your business. I’m fine. Don’t go all overprotective of me. Trust me, I can hold my own. I’m going to get changed for Hogsmeade, maybe see if Ginny has any snacks. I’ll see you later-”

“Ah, right, wait-” Ron grabs something off the table next to the armchair and jogs over to the bottom of the case; he eyes it warily. You snort, planting your hands on your hips and descending the necessary amount of steps to become eye-to-eye with him. “I noticed you weren’t at breakfast, thought you were ill. I brought you some food. It’s probably a little cold, but I don’t trust myself to do a Warming spell and not torch the thing.” Ron offers you the thing. It’s a plate of assorted breakfast food. You take it gingerly, a flood of familial affection washing through your body. It’s such a sweet, thoughtful gesture, you feel bad about being so adamant with him about your whereabouts. Of course, if you were him, you’d be worried, too.

You pull your brother in for a one-armed hug. He accepts it for a second and pulls away the next, ears red. “Thank you, Ron!” You beam into his blue eyes. You decide to add, “You’re the best twin older-brother-by-one-minute ever!”

“It’s nothing, I just thought you’d be hungry,” he mumbles, shuffling backwards. You let him inch away from the conversation. Instead of forcing him into more sibling bonding, you just go up to your dorms to get ready. Before eating the breakfast, you take out your wand and cast a light Warming spell. Then you proceed to burn your tongue on a forkful of eggs.

“Is his dick big, though?” Pansy sips at her butterbeer, nonchalant about the question she just imposed. “Like, Daph, I know you’re all, ‘size doesn’t matter’, but let’s be honest, ladies - it does. Size does matter.”

Daphne chokes on her treacle tart. When she stops dying, she grabs the nearest thing to her and chucks it across the table. It just so happens to be the bag of owl treats Millie bought for her owl - Daphne just nearly misses, Pansy ducking out of the way just in time. The bag sails over her head and lands behind your table. It bursts open and all the treats scatter amongst the floor. “Oh, shit-” Daphne jumps up, shouting an apology to Madame Rosmerta, who just rolls her eyes, a small smile on her face. “I’ve got it, Madame, really-”

Madame Rosmerta waves her off and takes out her wand. You turn back to the table, snickering as Millie scolds Daphne for wasting her owl treats. Madame Rosmerta hands the newly-mended bag back to Millie, nodding at Daphne’s gushing of ‘thank you, Madame, thank you - I’m so sorry-’. She, along with the entirety of the Three Broomsticks, ignores her shrieking when Millie attempts to hit Daphne over the head with the bag. You and Pansy step in. Pansy wrestles the bag away from an angry Millie while you protect a screeching Daphne.

“Give me back my owl treats, Parkinson-”

Pansy raises a perfect, dark eyebrow. “Uh, Bulstrode, you can get them back when we return to the common room. I won’t have you trying to kill Daph on my watch.” She flips her hair and smiles. “Anyway. What was I talking about?”

“Size does matter,” you offer, much to Daphne’s chagrin.

“Oh, right - yeah, size fucking matters, Daph.”

“No - Pansy, it’s all about personality. It doesn’t matter if he has a large penis, because if he has a large personality, then I am satisfied,” Daphne sits back in her seat, pleased with herself.

You lean over and stage-whisper to Pansy, “I think Hemmings has a small dick.”

“I’d wager he does, too,” Pansy stage-whispers back, maintaining solid eye contact with Daphne.

“No! Stop it, guys, it isn’t your dick, I don’t see why you care-”

“You’re not denying it, Daphne,” Millie cuts in. Her temper has calmed, and she’s back to first-name basis again. Good; having Millie angry is like… having Hermione angry with you. She’s sullen, stubborn, and a pain in the ass to be around. “If you’re not going to entertain us with Hemming’s dick, let’s talk about Draco’s.” Fuck. Nevermind, you want her to be sulky again. “How big is Draco’s dick?”

Pansy leans in, a laugh at the tip of her tongue. “Yeah, tell us. Give us the details.” After a moment, Pansy shakes her head. “Actually, I have to look at him in the eye. Don’t give us the details, but make a broad accusation, y’know?”

Shooting a wink at your blonde friend, you rest your chin on your fist and say, “Well, let me tell you girls, I think size does matter, and I am more than satisfied.” Grinning at Pansy’s shrieking laughs, you take a small sip from your mug and watch her and Millie viciously tease Daphne.

“See? Daph, even Draco has a big dick - and we all thought he was compensating! Sucks that Hemming’s is too small - maybe you should try someone else, like Po-”

Daphne, fuming, slams her fist on the table. Some butterbeer sloshes over the side of your mug, but you barely notice it in your violent giggling fit. “You know what?” She snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you, because privacy, but I’ll have you know Kit does have a big dick. In fact, Kit has a huge cock. It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen. Nine inches,” she says the last bit proudly.

You, Pansy, and Millie all shout in unison, “Nine?!”

“Nine. Kit’s dick is nine inches long. So, yes, I am very satisfied. I get nine inch cock-”

“That’s very interesting, Daphne, but I’d rather not know the size of Kit Hemming’s dick. Or first-hand accounts of how he uses it. Or, quite honestly, his name gives me a migraine, so I’d prefer to not speak of him, at all, for the rest of my life,” Draco’s voice sounds above you. You crane your neck to look up. He’s smirking in Daphne’s direction. Draco leans down to give you a weird upside-down kiss that’s actually quite cute and endearing, and leaves even Pansy awwing. Pansy never aws. Pansy is a cold, emotionless snake who takes pleasure only in seeing other people’s discomfort. And, sometimes cute things, when she’s in the mood. It’s not often; the mood comes once in a blue moon.

You love Pansy.

Draco drops a book onto the table as he falls into the seat in between you and Pansy. You pick up the book. Scanning the title, your heart rate quickens with each letter until you’ve finished the cover page and your excitement is through the roof. “Draco!” You shriek, setting the book down and tackling him in a hug. “Merlin’s tits-”

“Nice one,” he says, sarcastic.

“-Thank you so much, holy shit! I’ve been looking for this forever! How did you find it?!”

Draco picks up your mug and drinks from it. He leans against the back of the chair and shrugs. “I’m a Malfoy. I can get whatever I want.”

“I thought you were, like, half-asleep when I talked about this?”

“I was listening to you. I don’t tune you out,” he scoffs.

It’s then that you remember that your friends are still here, and staring at you expectantly, waiting to be included. “Oh, right - Daph, you might remember this. It’s the book on Beaters and tips and biographies and tricks of world-famous Beaters that I’ve been looking for for ages.”

Millie wiggles her eyebrows at you and Draco. “And what is he getting in return for your book?”

Draco answers before you can, saying, “Peace and quiet, hopefully. I’m leaning towards not being mindlessly bothered by her every second of the day.”

The three girls change the subject after laughing, leaving you and Draco pretty much alone. You look up at him, smiling. He’s smiling, too; the corners of his mouth are slightly upturned. You can tell he’s trying to hold one back. “You keep getting things for me, and I don’t know what to give you.”

“I don’t need anything,” he says quickly. Draco takes the book from your hands and sets it back on the table. He twists in his chair so his entire body is facing you. You do the same until you’re knee-to-knee. “Honestly. Don’t get me anything. Please. I… have everything materialistic I need.”

“Kiss me?”

Draco goes to glance around, then seems to think better of it. He meets you in the middle and kisses you long and hard, fingers making their way to clutch the front of your shirt. After you pull away, he mumbles, “How do you always get your way? Manipulation?”

“No, that’s you,” you retort, setting the book on your lap and opening it to the first page. Before you start reading, you grin at him and wink. “I use scare tactics to get my way.”

Draco snorts. “Right. That’s it. You’re so scary, I get it now.”

Humming in response, you lace his fingers with yours and begin the book, relishing in the feeling of his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand, light as a feather.

[cutecatpumpkin]

ive been pretty horribly sick the past few days (only very sick for the past few weeks) and im guessing im gonna be horribly sick for several more days until the 12th when i can see my doctor. 

so ive been given this pain medication (technically flu relief medication) to help me sleep, however im afraid to take it because the reason im in such bad pain is because of my stomach (hurts to eat, have lost a few inches off my waist in a coupe of weeks because of it) and i stupidly ate an entire burger with a side of fries all at once because i was starving. and this pain isnt just any regular ‘i need to vomit right now pain’, its a pain that my psychosis interacts with and makes it impossible for me to do anything except vainly try to distract myself (but more often than not im just hugging myself rocking back and forth muttering incoherently as my brain tries [and fails] to make sense of reality)

 and im also afraid to take these drugs because its a sleepttime formula (because im afraid to fall asleep since in the past 2 days whenever i tried to sleep i woke up after about 2 hours and experienced 10/10 pain paired oh so nicely with my psychosis that lasted for a couple of hours at least) 

so now im just sitting here trying to convince myself to take the drugs anyways but im failing. instead i just sat here for half an hour typing this up because i feel like i gotta and because its a decent distraction from the pain that hasnt left in 4 hours or so (though it has calmed down a bit [still freaks me out though])

also its really fucking cold (the house heater got turned off for some stupid reason despite it still being cold as balls outside)

and its fucking dark out which does absolutely nothing to help my psychosis (makes it worse, so much worse)

i should really take the medication, i know all of the benefits logically, but currently my brain is running on ‘emotions-only’ mode so fuck logic

it really hurts, but im afraid itll hurt even more

the 12th is an eternity away

(though i kinda get the feeling i might say fuck it tomorrow and just go to the hospital because fuck waiting that long when the last 2 days were some of the worst days of my life)

[primadonnatartuffe]

RYAN: -tonight is the night ryan would fall off the wagon after spending way too long in a bar singing, fending off offers to buy her drinks as well as her own impulses. but this is what happens when you put yourself in these kinds of locations. it was only a matter of time.- 

RYAN: -pain pills are easy enough to come by, and even easier to choke down when you're drunk. a wild evening results in ryan making her usual commute back home, late at night, on her own... making her an easy target for a mugging.- 

RYAN: -things get a little hazy after that point. but she remembers seeing jack arrive on the scene before blacking out.- 

RYAN: -... and then she woke up, back at the bar where it all began. she snorts awake from a puddle of drool with the bar tender tapping her head and telling her they're closing. she had a half finished drink which apparently made her both sleepy and guilty enough to pass out and have some kind of shitty nightmare. or... something. regardless, it's time to make the trek home, but her mind is still buzzing.- 

RYAN: -she's been having an awful lot of realistic dreams lately. way more than she has her entire life. jack seems to play a role in a considerable number of them, but she finds it unsettling in this case. this isn't her idealizing him rescuing her. it's more like... a very plausible thing if he ever saw her getting into trouble in one of his visions. and the idea of that makes her feel incredibly guilty.- 

RYAN: -she snaps out of her thoughts long enough to notice she's coming upon the alley from her dream. it would be wise to avoid it, but she wants to prove to herself it was just a dream... it would all be alright, like every other evening. and besides, she'd be on her toes anyway. she can fend for herself. still, her heart races as she turns down that street.-

JACK: -It's a feeling that creeps up his spine and settles with a heavy weight in his mind. Nagging and insistent, Jack knows no rest until he's forced to emerge from his apartment and pace the Skaian streets. He knows this feeling by now, like tuning into a radio station full of scenarios that chill his blood in a terribly familiar way.- 

JACK: -He can practically taste the dread in his mouth. His hands feel for a pack tucked into the pocket of his windbreaker until he's fishing out the cig he's searching for. Before too long, Jack has it tucked between his teeth. The tobacco burning in a (failed) hope of stowing off the metallic tang on his tongue.- 

JACK: -While his feet carry him down the turns of concrete and crosswalks, images begin to press to the blanket of sightlessness that were his eyes. Taking him an hour, half an hour, moments into the future. Stringlets of fate belonging to complete strangers, they paint Jack's surroundings to perfect clarity. He can See the darkened street where Ryan turns. Her steps hobbled and uncertain, the very opposite of sober.- 

JACK: -He also Sees when the three figures depart from the bar, having watched Ryan the whole time she'd spent drinking and then finally leaving on her own. A few seconds of context and clairvoyant observation left Jack knowing their intention. They were faceless, strangers in his visions, except for Ryan. Her face he would recognize anywhere and he realizes... He doesn't have much time to revel in the picturesque details he'd been missing out on.- 

JACK: -And so Jack takes a short cut, cutting straight through an alley where he might intercept Ryan on the other side. No need for conflict if he can avoid it. His hand shoots out to catch her at the elbow.- (Ryan.)

RYAN: -as alert as she tries to be, naturally she's glancing around nervously in all directions except the one jack suddenly emerges from. she feels his hand on her, stirring up a yelp and a startled jump.- JESUS FUCK. 

RYAN: -her heart beats right out of her chest and it only starts to settle when she recognizes the dimly lit figure beside her.- (jack???) 

RYAN: (what are you doing here?) -she doesn't sound entirely clueless, but she asks it all the same.-

JACK: -He can sense the group's balk in the distance as they see his interception of Ryan. But it'll only be a moment, just long enough for Jack to take her by the hand and zip further into the alley.- (No time.)

JACK: -Navigates with surprising finesse for a blind guy. Managing to avoid crates, broken bottles, garbage cans, anything that will cut it close to an encounter with their would-be pursuers. Within a few minutes, Jack is pulling Ryan in... only to duck with her into the archway of a backway door. The locked from the outside kind, probably belonging to the grounded restaurant kitchen beyond. His visions told him as much.- 

JACK: -He keeps a hand to her, hushing her while he listened and searched the immediate future. They were certainly out of sight now...-

RYAN: -alright, so much for her calming down. she sputters one last incoherent protest before the pair of them bob and weave through the alley's obstacles. this is all too fucking Real, she thinks, and it certainly doesn't quell her paranoid fears that what she saw was, in some way, her fate.- 

RYAN: -they linger in the archway, but the pause does nothing to quiet her racing thoughts or the unpleasant churn of anxiety in her stomach. she looks to jack, leaning into him a little to try to relax and trust that whatever is going on, he's got it under control better than she does. because what the fuck???- 

RYAN: -exhales after a moment and turns towards him to hiss a whisper.- (we got time now?)

JACK: -As the prospect of danger fades, so does his pseudo-ability to see. Everything takes to the comfort of pitch black and once again, Jack is left alone with the hush of Ryan's voice in his ear. The smell of booze is on her breath, the same way the cigarette smell must be clinging to his own clothes.- 

JACK: -his hand releases her and finds its way to her shoulder, squeezing at her in a way he hopes is reassuring.- Yes. 

JACK: We'll give it another minute or two. -talks as if they're avoiding something like a sudden bout of rain instead of... what just could have been.-

RYAN: alright. -she fidgets, but manages to collect herself as quiet returns between them. there are things she'd like to say that she isn't sure how.- 

RYAN: ... jack? i uh... 

RYAN: -sighs- there were guys following me. right?

JACK: -There's no point in lying... but he doesn't like the tension in her voice either. Despite everything, he would still prefer not to take it as what it could have been but rather what it is now. Ryan, safe because of his own intervention. He would count his lucky stars if he could.- 

JACK: There were.

JACK: But safe to say, they're gone now. -blinks and kind of registers their proximity of one another. Crossing his arms, Jack turns to lean back against the door instead, lining her shoulder up by his own.- Lucky break.

RYAN: ... i knew about them. 

RYAN: but i didnt think it would actually happen. 

RYAN: i mean... fuck. -runs a hand through her hair.- how do i put this? 

RYAN: -she turns her head to look at him again, confused and scared, but if anyone would understand, it had to be him... right?- i keep having these dreams. theyre always about me... things that happen to me. and they feel so real. but they never... theyve never happened. 

RYAN: i saw those guys coming after me. but even in that dream it was different. 

RYAN: ... i dunno. maybe its just a coincidence. im basically a sitting duck walking out here on my own.

JACK: Not always, you know. Just this one time. -gently nudges her with an elbow. He can't see how confused and fearful her expression is, but he can certainly hear it in her words. Jack opts to keep a cool head.- When did you have this dream.

RYAN: -scoffs and nudges him back.- just earlier today. 

RYAN: at the bar. 

RYAN: ... after i drank a little. 

RYAN: i guess i fell asleep.

JACK: -falls quiet and thoughtful at that, focusing on the circumstance. It was unique to say the least and one he couldn't help but identify with.- Is this a recent thing? You say dreams in the plural sense of the word.

RYAN: -nods slowly- yeah. for the past... month or so? 

RYAN: theyre usually about... shit like this. 

RYAN: me making poor decisions or getting into trouble or... 

RYAN: uhh... -glances off, flustered when she remembers the bulk of the things she dreams about. whoops.- mostly just that.

JACK: -strokes a thumb at his chin, nodding. Ohhh if he knew what she was thinking.- It's interesting. 

JACK: But something you can't expect to know the ins and outs of right away. 

JACK: I would suggest you take it with a grain of salt. Maybe... -drops the cane from his sylladex, weighing it in one hand for a moment.- Try not to tempt fate so often. 

JACK: The dreams are there for a reason.

RYAN: mrgg. well that much is obvious to me. -rubs at her head, feeling annoyed with herself when she reflects back on all these potential disasters she's gotten herself into. but of course, not everything she dreams about is regrettable.- 

RYAN: sometimes thats easier said than done. 

RYAN: but hey. im trying to be wiser. 

RYAN: -glances down at the ground, then loops her arm with his.- youre walking home with me of course.

JACK: I can't see an instance where I don't. -ba dum tshh. He's glad to take her arm in his and takes the lead out of the alley way. Truly homefree.- I don't suppose you mean my home. Or yours.

RYAN: -HOME IS WHEREVER I'M WITH YOOOOUUU.- 

RYAN: well... technically were closer to my place from here but. 

RYAN: i think id rather crash with you. if thats alright.

JACK: I won't oppose you... -when it comes time for them to take that street turn, Jack leads them on.- But on a more serious note. 

JACK: I'm also going to suggest you stay away from the kareoke bars a while. 

JACK: It's... not an easy thing. Relapsing. -squeezes at her wrist a little. As if reminding.-

RYAN: yeah... -as he squeezes her wrist, she finds herself drifting closer to him, brushing elbows.- 

RYAN: guess thatd count as making wiser decisions. 

RYAN: -she quiets, her train of thought bringing her away from him again, though she keeps her hand on his arm.- im... sorry jack.

JACK: -a smile quirks on his face as their elbows brush.- No need to be. 

JACK: I was here this time. I'd say if anything, this night turned out well. It's what's real and it's what matters.

RYAN: -that answer surprises her a little, but it's a relief.- i guess so... 

RYAN: i just dont wanna worry you. that you gotta hunt me down like that. 

RYAN: im... trying.

JACK: If anyone knows how hard you're trying, it's me. -says, squeezing at her knuckles now.- And I won't worry either. 

JACK: I can put off pre-mature grays for only so long.

RYAN: -that makes her smile and she returns to leaning against him, taking his hand up in hers just to squeeze back.- fair. 

RYAN: i can rest assured knowing youre gonna look good gray too. -snickers-

JACK: You know for a fact? -sounds bemused- 

JACK: I don't suppose your dreams tell you as much.

RYAN: i mean its hard to go wrong. 

RYAN: youre somehow pulling off this disheveled gives no fucks look after all. -ruffles his hair with her free hand.-

JACK: Thank you. -smiles, glad for the hair mussings.- 

JACK: The secret is forgetting that combs exist from time to time. At least twice a week.

RYAN: oh yeah. at the very least. id be surprised if you even own one anymore. -the closer they get to jack's place, the more her heart rate quickens. she worries if this is real, and if she's going to do something she shouldn't again. it's only a matter of time before that becomes a reality too, isn't it? she tries to tell herself it's probably in her head, but it doesn't stop the anxiety.- 

RYAN: ... by the way thanks for letting me stay with you so often. i know neither of you would wanna turn me away but you know. i appreciate being welcome all the time. -shrugs a little.-

JACK: -It's just like Ryan to shrug off an honest sentiment. So the blind guy leads the buzzed girl up the stairs and it goes about as well as one expects. He nods, holding her hand and feeling up the stair rails with the free hand.- 

JACK: If it was your house, you would be doing the same for me. -touches the first door but it's obviously not their house. He guides Ryan all the way to the third. He begins fiddling with his keys to get the door unlocked.- I personally enjoy having space to my own. 

JACK: No moms or dads staying up late to make sure I'm home in one piece. I appreciate their concern but nine times out of ten, I'm perfectly fine. -rambles the whole way into the house. Predictably, Audrey the pitbull greets them with a sniff and a boop of her nose at their hands. Oh yeah. Jack should probably release that now.-

RYAN: -NEVER. but it's alright, her hands are now occupied giving this pup pets.- tell me about it... 

RYAN: one of these days ill have my own place again. or i can room with someone i guess. since russet suggested it i kinda feel compelled to resist it with all my being. 

RYAN: plus i just... ya know. dont wanna burden anybody until im in a better place. 

RYAN: ... but then again i guess im kinda doing that already without necessarily burdening anybody so hey. 

RYAN: not that im suggesting i room with yall but uh yeah thats just where my train of thought took me. 

RYAN: ... -wanders inside, but she's lingering a little awkwardly like she isn't sure if she wants to sit or not.-

JACK: All the couch needs is a plaque with your name on it. -He doesn't seem to mind that she lingers, shuffling off for his kitchen like he is. After a few minutes and from the smell of it, Jack is making himself a mug of hot chocolate.- I know Sage would like the prospect of extended sleepovers.

RYAN: -belatedly decides to hover, joining him in the kitchen.- heh. without a doubt. 

RYAN: hey... make me one. -prods at him.-

JACK: -lets her have this drink he's already done preparing.- Fine. -gets to making himself another. Feeling around a cabinet for another mug.- 

JACK: I think you should consider a roommate though. It's a system that works wonders on Sage and I. Hell. 

JACK: It's best if you can find someone you can fuss at the same way they fuss at you. That way you don't feel like it's a burdening dynamic. It's how it works for us.

RYAN: -scoffs...- oh wait youre serious. 

RYAN: i dunno if i know anyone that i can fuss at. pretty much everyone i know has their shit together waaay more than i do. -sips the chocolate as she leans against a counter and thinks about this.-

JACK: It helps not to make those assumptions. -stirs the powder into the hot water with a spoon.- But again. 

JACK: Just an idea.

RYAN: :P 

RYAN: its something to consider i guess. maybe ill get lucky. or however that works.

JACK: You could ask your dreams about it. -licks the spoon, tapping it at his mouth in contemplation.- Another hypothetical thought.

RYAN: yeah right. maybe if i want some insight on the worst candidates for the position since so far theyve only been good for warning me not to be a complete dunderfuck. 

RYAN: or to be like prepared. 

RYAN: for things. 

RYAN: that some people apparently arent prepared for. 

RYAN: since theyre not all bad dreams so. i dunno maybe youre onto something. -STOP WHILE YOU STILL CAN RYAN. she squints at her mug and takes a generous gulp.-

JACK: So if they're not bad, they must be good. -sips his own mug, elbow leaned back against the counter.- I say you give it a try.

RYAN: guess it cant hurt! 

RYAN: -she's feeling flustered all over again now that they're back to this subject. she wonders if it's something she should address, or if that would be an even worse decision. maybe she can be subtle about it.- 

RYAN: heeeeeeey. actually while were still talking about my whacky dream shenanigans... 

RYAN: so some of them arent exactly bad... sure... maybe they are actually really good! 

RYAN: but what if they arent? i mean if the running theme of every other dream is something i shouldnt do then maybe these good dreams could be categorized as the same thing. 

RYAN: and even if they ARENT then what DO they mean? since as you said they mean SOMETHING...

JACK: -fishes out a marshmallow before answering.- Tough question but it's a good one to ask. 

JACK: From my perspective, the visions manifest as... often worst-case scenarios. What would happen if I don't do "x". But your dreams? You can't say they're the same thing. 

JACK: Maybe it's not inherently about good or bad but rather your decisions. And what comes out of them. That make sense?

RYAN: -turns the mug in her hand.- when you put it like that... yeah. it does. -baccia said more or less the same thing, but it still raises some questions.- 

RYAN: but i guess in this case im not sure... what would come out of it... if i did wind up doing those things. and thats why im wary of it. 

RYAN: cuz it could be great. or it could totally set u-- uhh. me... up for disaster and its... 

RYAN: -glances down at the hot chocolate.- its something i really wouldnt wanna fuck up.

JACK: Hmmm. Well. 

JACK: Great or not, I guess... just like with most major, uncertain decisions. 

JACK: You would have to make a gamble on whether it's worth going through with or not. Not that I'm the best candidate to offer such advice. -snorts a little into his drink.- But the possibilities still stand.

RYAN: -quiets, shuffling her feet and letting all this rattle around in her head. then she shuffles her feet over to him, standing shoulder to shoulder again.- 

RYAN: ... 

RYAN: ... 

RYAN: theyre sex dreams.

RYAN: a metric fuck ton of sex dreams. 

RYAN: aboutttttt... yooouuu?

JACK: -He can physically hear the record scratch in his head as he takes a long hard gulp of hot chocolate. Scalding his mouth and leaving him to stifle the wheeze. He deserved this.- Mgh. Ghhhhf. 

JACK: -SWALLOWS.- Metric fuck ton. 

JACK: Of... chronologically probable sex dreams. -Has to repeat it to make sure he's hearing this right.-

RYAN: yeeeeeup. 

RYAN: im only kind of exaggerating. hahaha. 

RYAN: oh god.

RYAN: -hello darkness my old friend...-

JACK: -stands there with his mug like mmmmmmmygod.- "Kind of". -clears his throat and shakes his head.- 

JACK: How often do they occur before you have to qualify something as "a metric fuck ton"? -He's almost afraid to ask but well. Here he is. Staring into the void.-

RYAN: like... i dunno... about as often as i stay over??? 

RYAN: i say... after deciding to stay over.

RYAN: fuck.

JACK: Well. That... 

JACK: ... -ends up holding his chin just to grasp the gravity of all that she's implying.- 

JACK: Certainly... puts things into perspective.

RYAN: lmaoooo. 

RYAN: yeah i... okay im not just bringing this up so we can be collectively ashamed of ourselves. 

RYAN: i figure... if all these dreams are about my decisions and shit then im DECIDING to talk about it instead of jumping your bones. or waiting for you to jump my bones. or for both of us to jump at each other at the same time. 

RYAN: ... -puts her head in her hand and SIGHS- not that those details matter... or i guess maybe they do if these are things that actually couldve happened. 

RYAN: cuz that means... it isnt just me...?

JACK: -he gnaws absently on his thumb as she rambles. Picturing all the times he shuffled around, debating. Knowing he wasn't going to go through with it but wanting to. Fantasizing?? Even just remembering was bringing some sweat to his forehead.- ...Christ. 

JACK: It's... a pickle. To say the least. -chews his thumb.- Sorry. 

JACK: I'm probably not much help with this. -wheezes gently.-

RYAN: -frowns- you could be though? 

RYAN: like clearly theres an elephant in the room we should be addressing. 

RYAN: or!! its something i want to address. 

RYAN: because it sucks just sitting on how im feeling. and i know i suck at talking about it. but i wanna try to be better at that too. 

RYAN: especially... especially with you.

JACK: -takes a deep breath... ultimately nodding. He runs his hand through his hair.- Yeah. 

JACK: You're right. It's just... 

JACK: God. -brings a hand and runs it down his face.- It's fucking insane. -says muffled.- 

JACK: Sometimes... fantasies oughta stay fantasies, huh? -drops his hands back down to his sides.- Sheesh.

RYAN: ... maybe. 

RYAN: but why is it... on our minds in the first place? and so frequently??? 

RYAN: its not... mmrg. 

RYAN: its not just a fantasy for me. its not just about fucking around. okay?

JACK: -he sobers up a little, unsure of himself but dammit. Wanting to give talking it through a try.- I know. That's not what I meant. 

JACK: I just... 

JACK: Thought it was a safe thing. 

JACK: Letting myself be indecisive.

JACK: You know it never works out if we think too much so... often times it's just about the feelings. -He doesn't know what he's saying but whatever it is, Jack is sure it was making him sound like a thoughtless dick. The shame is starting to catch up now that he thinks about it.-

RYAN: -winces and turns away from him, setting the mug down on the counter to use the mindless action as an excuse to process this. it's definitely a little frustrating, but even moreso when she doesn't really understand.- what do you mean... a safe thing?

JACK: -rubs his head in frustration and sighs.- Do you ever see me turning away? In these visions?

JACK: Dreams. Sorry.

RYAN: ... no. i dont.

JACK: -drums his fingers a little bit.- Well, logically speaking. 

JACK: It's not just your own desires that are inducing the decisions behind the dreams. And you're not selfish or crazy for having them.

RYAN: -folds her arms, hugging herself while her stomach does all sorts of acrobatic stunts.- okay so... then what??? 

RYAN: thats what i wanna know. 

RYAN: if youre feeling the same way i am... i just want to figure out what i should do about it. 

RYAN: what... we should do about it.

JACK: I don't... have that answer. I don't See what happens if we go through with.... these hypothetical scenarios. 

JACK: It's not disastrous? You've never been disastrous. -makes a vague gesture. It seems kind of wistful.- You've always been... 

JACK: Just you. A person. 

JACK: Reaching for the good as much as anyone else.

RYAN: -looks at him again, expression softening.- ... well. since neither of us knows where things would go... 

RYAN: maybe a better question is... what do we want to do about it?

JACK: -He has to consider everything in front of him now. It was like living through a dose of ice cold deja vu. Ryan, their relationship, the past, the future... In these few moments, Jack is quiet. The conflict warring on his face, despite being unable to see her. If only he had the reassurance of her expression, then he'd be able to make sense of all the blank spaces.- 

JACK: You're always so close. -begins carefully, his blind eyes worried.- It seems... inevitable. No matter what we do. How hard we try.

RYAN: -swallows dryly as she turns to face him and reaches to touch his arm, gentle and reassuring in the absence of the look on her face.- are you scared?

JACK: -as she touches him, he releases the breath he didnt know he was holding.- Always. 

JACK: You know me.

RYAN: -her hand travels up along his shoulder till she's coiling her arms around him, pulling him into a hug.- yeah. 

RYAN: me too. 

RYAN: maybe we can be... scared together? 

RYAN: im not trying to say that we need to have it all figured out right now... 

RYAN: i just dont wanna... run away from this. i dont wanna do that kinda thing anymore jackie.

JACK: -hardly resists her embrace. In fact, he coils into it. Burying himself against her shoulder and holding her tight.- I know... 

JACK: But habits are hard to put to rest. And it's hard trying to... 

JACK: Tell myself that I'm ready. And that I won't catch myself in the same cycle as before. I've spent so long trying to break from it. But is it enough? 

JACK: -He nuzzles her.- I have no fucking clue.

RYAN: -laughs a little, returning the nuzzles.- well fuck. im right there with you. 

RYAN: im not gonna be reckless about it though and say i dont give a fuck?? cuz i do. like... 

RYAN: i wanna be more aware of my own bullshit. 

RYAN: but i feel like its been easier... cuz ive had help. and ive let people help. i never did before. 

RYAN: -squeezes him a little tighter.- i think we can help each other too. youre already doing that for me...

JACK: -Hugs her so tight, he lifts her a little bit. The stronk hobo that he is.- Yeah... 

JACK: -And with that, he turns and presses a kiss to her cheek.- I just. 

JACK: Love you. Somewhere in all this fuckery of a mess. I do.

RYAN: -her cheeks warm at the contact, butterflies fluttering all around her stomach and chest, inspiring more laughter and the threat of tears.- i love you too. i never fucking stopped. 

RYAN: -returns the kiss, and then once more. leaving behind lipstick stains he unfortunately won't be able to discover later, but they're there all the same.-

JACK: -It's hard being on the receiving end of Ryan kisses. It's hard and nobody understands that when you receive one, you had to receive more. And so Jack leans, bringing a hand to her hair, the back of her head. Angling her chin up so he can press a soft sweet kiss to her lips.-

RYAN: -chills run up and down her spine, an elating warmth settling over her skin when it passes. her hands clasp at his hair, interlocking with messy strands to give her a grip while she returns this kiss too, deepening it with the tilt of her head.-

JACK: -The velvety soft of her kiss was like everything Jack remembered... but in real time. No longer clouded by memory or the passing of time. It was a crystal clear, high definition of Ryan Strider brand kisses. Tinted by the taste of hot chocolate, he knew each time his lips energetically plucked the kisses from hers.- 

JACK: Fuck it all... -says while humming with satisfaction, the more she carded fingers through his hair.-

RYAN: thats what i like to hear. -the shape of her lips form a wide smile against his, but that alone couldn't even express her joy. her hands move to frame his face instead for her to look him over. scruffy as he is, he's still the most handsome man she's ever laid eyes on, and it feels good to admire this without guilt.- 

RYAN: hey jack... its really getting late. shouldnt we think about lying down?

JACK: Late for you maybe. The wicked know no sleep. -he smiles, exhaling with relief and the buzz of warmth in his cheeks. He fiddles with more of her downy soft hair between his fingers.- But I guess I could lie in wait for a while.

RYAN: -snickers at his jokes, nudging into his touch.- alright edward. come on. -captures his hand in hers so she can escort him to his own bedroom. she's visited it enough in her dreams to know every step like the back of her hand. when she passes through the door, she's pulling him in for more kisses, as if she had been waiting another lifetime for them, rather than only a few moments.-

JACK: -follows her kisses into well... His bedroom. He knew the direction and he was conscious of how bold she was for leading the way. The truth was really shedding some light on the situation. Holy moly.- Make yourself at home. -mutters, squeezing at her hands and stealing more precious pecks. The door is closing behind them.-

RYAN: i always do. -guides him to the bed, slowly seating herself and tugging him along with her continued insistence. side by side, she pauses to run her hands over his shoulders, studying his frame as if testing the solidity of him. the reality of him.- 

RYAN: im not dreaming again am i?

JACK: I guess we'll find out tomorrow when you wake up. -for all his griping, he stifles a yawn. Relaxing under the hands that run by his shoulders. One of his own thumb comes to lightly stroke her chin. Coaxing her to relax.-

RYAN: ... yeah. alright. -she's torn between the anxiety to stay awake with him, to savor every moment of this, and getting rest to test out the theory that in the morning they'll actually wake up together. but ultimately, his touch has her lying back against the pillows and sheets, beckoning him to follow.-

JACK: -Here he comes. Rolling into bed and feeling around for a way to get comfortable. Preferably with Ryan gathered up in his arms.-

RYAN: -she helps him out, fitting herself against the shape of him, juxtaposed with her back to his front. and with his arms around her, she can finally start to relax.-