#at least as long as is healthy. nothing like the “no apologies” bullshit please and thank you

[yannaryartside]

The table scene: I will hold the world for you

Promises and friends with insecurities

This scene was the culmination of their arcs in this season; their arcs, in some senses, had nothing to do with each other but everything about wanting each other and figuring out how this partnership was essential to each other. Another long one.

Under the table is their relationship, trying not to collapse under the burden of the table, the world, and their trauma. 

Sydney had started the season wanting to be a partner to Carmy and finding a partner with him; he was, for her, a vehicle/support to tackle the big wolf of her insecurities, thinking her failures were her own fault, her burden. She was tired of feeling alone and not enough to walk the path of hurt, trials, and disappointments that her life has been. Carmy was also tired of feeling alone, of feeling unlovable. He saw a way to heal that in Claire and took it. In the process, he disappointed Sydney in his lack of commitment to the restaurant (and her); both were jet to decipher the true feelings they hold for each other, a truth that was to be set in the background, simmer and simmer, and then explode.

The explosion for Sydney occurs inside; she realizes little by little how much Carmy reveals to Claire. The explosion for Carmy went the inside out, the panic attack scene showing him what he had suspected all along. He was forced to confront the fact that his bond with Claire, even if he had feelings for her, was not enough to push away his fears and trauma (this was not a secure attachment; it was never based on two people actually knowing each other, or healthily supporting each other). I LOVE Carmy's face in this scene btw; he is so happy to see her in his mind; the fucker is like, "Oh, there you are; wtf can you do this to me? But thank god you do"

Sydney experienced Carmy pushing her away more and more as the season advanced, all while Carmy grew in discomfort with his "relationship" with Claire. Carmy and Syd tried their ways to make the situation more bearable. Sydney tried to communicate her needs for support in this scary process of creating a restaurant (trying to ignore her feelings); Carmy, being a clautrofuck of emotions for getting what he wanted for so long, to still feeling shit about it, was terrified of losing Sydney and tried to create a menu "for her" instead of "with her." But they never reached each other truthfully, even after this point, because they were so afraid to lose that glimpse of security they provided each other that they never went to the core of their fears. (they abused the "I am sorry" sign, made assumptions, and held to reservations and resentment).

They are walking on shifting sands, uneven terrytiory=uneven table.

AND THEN, THE TABLE SCENE

The blocking of this scene is phenomenal. They changed positions when they were changing about subjects in the conversation. All while they are trying to fix an uneven table. It is uneven because neither of them knows where they truly stand as partners, and yet, the scene manages not to be about partnership, but about relasionship, and frienship.

In the beginning, when Carmy shares his "burden" for this season: his relationship with Claire, the fact that she is excellent, but he cannot separate his trauma from her, not knowing what even a secure attachment is. Carmy is lying on the ground, his being exposed and vulnerable, resting. Sydney is holding the table when he explains all this to her while he is fixing "his side" of the table, his trauma, and his mistakes that had damaged their harmony. He acknowledges it and promises his entire focus from now on. Sydney also takes a moment to recognize that whatever Carmy has with Claire is something that he needs at some level, regardless of how that makes her feel (helathy or not, she sees that at some level, he wants it). She is holding the other side of the table. She is preventing it from collapsing on him, like he is giving him a space to feel his feelings, regardless of the pressure they both endure, as she has done with her actions all season. 

This is not about why she is carrying the restaurant herself, and neither is a way to imply she had to do it in order to be a good friend, of course not, but that is not what this scene is about. I think the conclusion of service in Service in Friends and Family is a more appropriate conclusion for Carmy's absence, and a better "punishment" even if she has yet not expressed how abandoned she felt by him, and all the ways he failed her, and let his trauma handle his time and his partnership with Sydney like shit. They may not be ready to be able to talk about that, nor do they know how to fix it. The service scene served for him to understand how badly he was not around. Decorated with the fact Sydney was able to guide the kitchen relying on others, being the true leader the restaurant needed.

The table scene, for me, is not about resolving any of that, it is about promises. Promises to find answers and realizing what they provide for each other.

The table scene is about two friends talking about their insecurities.

She holds the table while he confesses something he has never said out loud to anybody. Sydney is providing Carmy in this scene something he has never had: "a person to trust, to understand and to understand him, a person to know everything about, a best friend," anybody that he tried to form this with has hurt him at some point, Mickey being the most painful example, whatever he has wit Nat, or even Richie, doesn't come close by miles, he still carries reservations around them. He seems to have tried to establish that with Claire, surprised at how empty it left him anyway.

But when Carmy says "say more," asking her to change positions, now she is the one underneath, fixing her side of the table, laying on the ground, vulnerable, while he holds the other side. She lays down her fears of her past failures collapsing on her all at once, all the reasons she has always suspected she is not good enough for this, and he is the one reassuring her, holding the other side of the table, preventing the world (the pressure/trauma) from collapsing on her, giving her a space to confess without judgment. He gives her exactly what she needs; not only is she good enough for this, but not only does he know the desire to help people that drives her, but if fear creeps in, whatever obstacle or failure they face, he will hold her, and "they" will work on it. All this, all the things he gets from her too, he sees her, understands her, believes in her, and promises to be there for her, a best friend.

If anything, regardless of the context of what they need to do this in the first place, particularly on Carmy's part, even if is only promises for the momment, the table scene is a beautiful description of a partnership: you are not on uneven territory anymore; I will be the ground you walk on, I will build you up, I will give you a space to feel your feellings.

I couldn't do this without you I wouldn't even wanna do it without you You make me better at this I wound't let you (fail)

The harmony is restored, the ground of trust is settled, the table (the world/the trauma) is not collapsing on anybody, they both are compromised on a goal: supporting each other, whatever that leads them. Whatever that will mean in the future, finding new boundaries, ways to complement and help each other, maturing emotionally. These feelings? I don't know how to deal with them, but I will stand beside you.

Most importantly, they both realized that this security they give each other...they want it; they only had an idea of what their partnership could be at the beginning of the season, and now it has been revealed to them, just a taste, enough to get their hearts...wanting for more. 

You are not alone

[andysbubba]

Loving you

Andy Barber x Gender neutral (?) reader

-> the one where you’re tired of andy’s igorance towards himself

Note: Angst diffusing into fluff, the typical andy-kitchen scene i used in my candlelight loving fic— except there’s no smut, ++ feedbacks welcomed as always! and reblogs and likes are more than appreciated <33

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

~h

-

“Andy, baby. Will you please take a break?” You exasperatedly sigh when you see Andy still hovering over his desk in his study after the fifth time you told him to take some time to rest.

“I know, I know. Just a little more, honey. I’ll join you in bed in a bit, okay?” He only looked up at you for barely a second to reply before his eyes were back on the stacks of case studies and folders on his desk.

Truth be told, you were completely done with his bullshit.

You huff in frustration, rolling your eyes the slightest bit and muttering to yourself as you distanced yourself from Andy’s home office with full annoyance. “Fucking lawyers.”

Andy’s been fully hung up on work ever since one of his co-workers took a vacation off work just last week. Meaning that his already-extensive workload just got an upgrade. Also meaning that he’d drag his workload home and continue working his ass off in his study. Which really- there’s nothing wrong with your boyfriend being all diligent and assiduous.

But it really doesn’t seem all that glorifying when you’re the one having to deal with all his crap. You could’ve probably list down all the times he put fucking paperwork above you, and the list would probably have been as long as Article 1.

Unbeknownst to you, Andy caught onto what you said right before you left his study. He felt guilty, alright. All he’s done is to be a complete work-addict while you’re out there being the best lover one can ever ask for. And all he wants to do is to chase after you and apologize and stay in bed and order in pizza with you. But the never ending workload on his desk was the one thing keeping him away from having you all snug in his chest.

He shakes his head, eyes glancing back down at his work. He was beyond exhausted, the pot of coffee you made him and the hope that the earlier he wraps his work up, the earlier he can shower you with all the love you deserved, was his only motivation to keep reading though the files and trying to get as much work done.

-

You groggily rubbed your eyes as you tried to feel around the sheets for Andy. And honestly? You weren’t even surprised that he wasn’t there. It was 7 in the morning, and it was too early for Andy to be up if he actually went to sleep last night. You could only assume that he never even went to bed, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

You head out to his study, the door’s still opened as it was yesterday and the faint noise of keyboard clicking tells you that Andy’s still working inside.

“Babe?” You knocked on the wooden door, trying to get his attention.

Andy’s hunched in his seat, eyes switching between his laptop and the files from time to time as he typed. He glances up at you, just a little surprised.

“Did you get some sleep, honey?” You asked, even though you knew you’d only receive the answer you dreaded so much.

He glances at the digital clock on the wall, only realising that it’s been 6 hours since you last came in to check on him. He scratches the back of his neck as he shook his head and mentally cursed himself. “I—”

He considered lying, but he already felt as bad for leaving you to sleep alone the whole night and breaking his promise on joining you in bed. And knowing you, you’d probably see right through his lies anyway.

You sigh, shaking your head and disappointedly rubbing your face. “I swear to god, Andrew—” You turned away before you could allow yourself to get even more pissed at him. Which most probably would’ve been impossible.

Caffeine. God— caffeine sounds fucking amazing right now.

-

Andy’s beyond guilty. So much more than what he felt yesterday. And his heart burns when he sees you so disappointed and pissed at him. The kind of pain where it feels like it’s being crushed and squashed.

He didn’t even realise that he went a whole night of work without sleep. Nor did he realise the time. Or that he forgot to keep his promise to join you in bed. Or the fact that he never paid attention to you for more than 5 minutes in the last 10 hours. Or that he didn’t join you for dinner. Or— okay, the list is long alright. And Andy knows he’s hurt you- the one person who’s patient enough to deal with him and the one person he loves above anything else in the goddamn world.

He ditched his laptop and stood up. Stretching his legs and working out the kinks in his muscles.

Andy trailed behind your footsteps, leaving his study for the first time in almost a day. It really took you to be angry at him just to get him out of the study. Andy knows his sorry isn’t enough. And you truly deserved every right to be pissed at him.

You were sorting your morning tea out when he came into the kitchen. Andy couldn’t help but smile fondly at you- or rather, your back really. For goodness sake, Andy’s head over heels in love with you. With every inch of you from head to toe. It is truly indescribable.

He steps up behind you, arms wrapping around your shoulders, and his chin resting on the tiny area joining your shoulder and your neck.

“Hi, baby,” He pressed a soft kiss on where his chin was before.

He wasn’t surprised that you stayed silent and continued doing your own thing. He knows damn well he deserves the silent treatment, alright.

“Honey,” He trails off as his thumbs rubbed circles on both sides of your shoulder. “Talk to me please, baby.”

You let out a heavy sigh, unwilling to turn and look at him, but you knew stirring tea wasn’t enough to occupy the next 3 minutes of your life, let alone the next few hours.

Andy turns you around by your shoulders, one hand shifting your mug to the side so he doesn’t accidentally mess up more and end up spilling hot tea all over you. He picks you up by your sides and sets you down softly on the counter.

His head was around your chest level now. As much as Andy wanted to bury his head in your chest and stay there forever, he knows he has to say something because you definitely won’t say it first. He takes your hands in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, his pretty blue eyes staring up at you the whole time.

One look and you know he’s sorry. His watery eyes bring you to that conclusion.

“I’m sorry, honey.” He sighs, guiltily holding your palm up to the side of his face. “I know I hurt you. I was just so focused on the case that I didn’t even realise I hurt you, baby. You deserve all the right to be mad at me and ignore me and- fuck. I really messed up, Y/n.”

Andy shakes his head, “I just thought that if I wrapped up all my work, I’d have more time with you.” He chuckles humourlessly. “I know what I did was wrong, baby. You gave me more than enough chances yesterday but I messed up every one and I left you.”

He glances into your eyes desperately, his hand gripping onto your palm on his cheek tightly. You know it’s a silent plea for you to respond and do that thing he loves about your touch.

You find yourself surrendering to his silent plea, and your thumb brushed the side of his face. Soft and repeatedly. The comfort it brought Andy was beyond words. He leaned into your palm, seeking more of your touch.

“You’ve been nothing but understanding and caring and I just kept on taking advantage of that.” Andy was grateful he had someone as amazing as you. “ I’m so sorry I hurt you, honey. I know I j- just completely left you alone— and shit, you don’t deserve that, my love.” The crack in his voice broke your resolve.

You breathed deeply, bringing your other palm up to the other side of his face. “Baby, you really don’t get it, do you?” You paused, searching his eyes before realising that Andy didn’t truly understand why you were upset in the first place. “Andy, everytime I came up to check on you— that was for you. I wanted you to get some rest, honey. You looked exhausted every single time I came in, and I hated that you just ignored your own health.”

“You skipped dinner, bub.” Your hands shifts down to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer. “All this overworking and sleepless nights— I just wish you’d take care of yourself more, Andy.”

Andy sighs, hands shifting down to your hips and he leans in, burying his head in the middle of your chest.

You felt his lips moving against your his shirt as he murmured. “I know, ‘m sorry.” Andy inhaled deeply, your natural, comforting scent piercing through his nose. “I missed you, bubba,”

You run a hand through his hair. “I missed you too, love.” You lean down and kissed the top of his head. “You wanna go wash up or get some rest while I heat up yesterday’s dinner?”

“Wanna stay just like this.” He mumbled into the fabric of your his shirt.

You laughed heartily, “Go nap on the couch, Barbie.” He pulls away from your chest. “Or at least, please go brush your teeth. I’ll fix up somethin’ for you.”

“And sleep with me after?” He arched a brow, and you took the time to scan over Andy’s face. He looks so fucking exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes and the barely noticeable strands of gray hair among the luscious black is a simple message that he was stressed. And god, you wanted nothing more than to take care of him and make sure he’s all healthy and— lord.

“Anything you want, baby. As long as you don’t step foot in the study till tomorrow afternoon.” You pressed your forehead against his, lips touching into an easy kiss.

You were both exhausted— Andy with his lack of sleep and you having to worry over him almost every 45 minutes. You both needed the rest. And some time together where it’s just the two of you and no one else exists.

[twistedmusings]

Reading Between The Lines

A/N: I feel bad whenever I say 'hey here is what I am working on' and then my muses tell me 'no...this is what you are working on'. It's like my brain can't concentrate on one thing entirely q wq. In my defense though, I'm exploring my twst faves...and Cater may be a runner up to Vil...

Warnings: Dry humping, dirty talking and a quick handjob just as unsatisfying and ungratifying as Cater feeling like maybe he shouldn't have let you go just yet.

“Whoops.”

Cater’s phone case cracked as it hit the floor, eyes locking with yours as you pull away from the Heartslabyul second year. Why had he even dropped his phone in the first place? The case had cost a lot and he had queued up for hours to get it, there should have been no reason for him to drop it.

Maybe the shock from seeing you in Heartslabyul?

No, that was normal. You were friends with Ace and Deuce after all so your presence in Heartslabyul was normal.

Maybe from seeing you in a bedroom that wasn’t a first year room?

He was coming to check up on a second year who had mentioned something about needing help in Astrology so Riddle had instructed Cater to help the guy out. The ‘strict Queen’ was aiming for the highest grade among the dorms, after all. So he was just carrying out his duty as an upperclassman!

So seeing you here, in this second year’s room, shirt around your elbows as a pair of hands--

that weren’t his--gently wrapped themselves around your waist was probably what made him drop his case.

Good to know, if he had come to that conclusion at any other time that you weren’t here, he might have said something mean to his lower-class men.

You move to fix your shirt as the second year rushes to apologize, walking up to him and spouting words Cater wouldn’t bother to hear. His eyes kept staring as you fixed yourself up to look a tad more proper than how he had found you.

It wasn’t like the sight of you in that state was unfamiliar to him, he just hadn’t seen it in a long time.

“Please just keep it between us, Cater-san! I don’t know what I’d do if the dorm head found out about this.”

He snaps out of his trance, looking down at the second year before grinning as he let out a slow hum, pretending to mull the request over in his head.

“Should I? If I remember correctly...Rule 345--Only when the sky turns red as it is dawning can a romantic partner be brought--”

“I--I’ll tell the dorm leader that you helped me with class!”

Cater grins, “That’s one way to make it up to me~ I guess for now I should leave you with a warning, right?” he tilts his head to call out to you, “The same goes for you [Y/N]-san! I can’t have you getting someone other than Ace and Deuce in trouble!”

He can't help but feel a sense of pride when you chuckle at what he had said, turning around to give him a peace sign as you walk by the second year.

“I’ll try to do an effort to hide in the closet next time.”

The second year takes your hand and kisses it, apologizing for the trouble and closing his eyes when your hands cup his cheek and pull him in for a kiss, the action making Cater look down at his phone and open whatever app he saw first.

You wave goodbye as Cater closes the door quickly, not giving you a chance to look at your second year lover fully as the both of you walk down the corridors of Heartslabyul in silence.

“So.”

“Hm?”

Green eyes keep looking at his phone, scrolling through Magicam absentmindedly but sparring you one look as he sees you scratching at a hickey--he would have left a bigger one-- the second year had left behind.

“Was he any good?”

In his defense, what had started between you two was clearly labeled as a ‘no feelings allowed, we are just here to have fun’ relationship. You seemed to understand his nature better than most and were down for something that wasn’t super serious and borderline erotic in a sense.

Cater was sure that you two had done it in at least one surface in every common room in Heartslabyul. The thought kept him awake at night, actually.

“Was he any good…” you repeat the question, “As good as I’m going to get from a second year.”

“Oh the poor guy.” Cater can’t help the snort that escapes him as you two walk down a set of stairs leading to the dorm’s entrance, “It is surprising you went for him, didn’t you mention that you liked the older type?”

“Well after a certain ‘older type’ decided to end things, I thought I should try my hand at something different. Change my ways, you know?”

He didn’t know. Cater had no idea what you were talking about, in fact. Why would you have to change your ways for anyone? You were amazing, interesting, entertaining and attention-grabbing all wrapped up in an older sibling type package that he had admitted to being attracted to when he had brought up the ‘friends with benefits’ proposition. If you changed in anyway he would be disappointed--

Dammit he was doing it again.

“If you want to start a relationship with someone in Heartslabyul, I would recommend Trey. He’s handsome, hardworking and you wouldn’t go hungry. Perfect man material right there.”

Cater knew that the small jab was directed at him so he decided to switch subjects, preferring not to linger in the awkward feeling that came with the consequences of his actions.

He ended things because he had broken the rules you both had set in place. Feelings weren't allowed and yet he had let them burrow deep inside his heart and fester like some sort of unknown virus. Cater didn't care for them so he nipped the problem in the bud, broke things off in an amicable manner and moved on.

But, like with everything in his life, it had all been an act.

If it had been just the sex keeping him awake, he would have understood. He's a healthy young man and some of the activities you two engaged in would make any first year jealous. And for a while the memories of you warming his bed generally did start to make him yearn for your warmth.

It was the possibilities of what you could have had that were driving him insane.

Would you have said no to a date? The only thing you two did when you were alone were have sex, make fun of Magicam models, sleep and then have sex some more so surely you would have liked a change of scenery as well.

But he didn't know you as much as he wished he did. Nights in his bed had been spent tossing and turning as to what your answer would have been. Why did he even care? You both still hung out, you still had his number, it wasn't like either of you were dead to each other!

Cater just didn't know how to react to you seeing someone else, if that is what you were even doing in the first place.

"Trey-senpai? I guess...he is rather sweet, isn't he?"

"In more ways than one."

"...but I will have to pass." you rub the back of your neck, "You know I don't like sweets."

The clock strikes ten as Cater's eyes take all of you in, his mind blanking out for a response before he clicks his tongue and points behind him.

"Say, Prefect, I think you may have left something in my room. Mind if I give it to you now?"

-----

"Oh. Your case cracked."

"Yeah. Dropped my phone. Bummer, huh?"

"Here I thought you held onto that thing for dear life, can I see it?"

Cater laughs as he takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to you, turning back to dig in his drawer for the sole sock that you had left about a month ago.

Who was he bullshitting? He was panicking, plain and simple. Here he was, rummaging through his drawer like an idiot as he pretended to have a sock that he knew he didn't have all to keep you with him for a couple more minutes.

Stars, who was he? He didn't know himself anymore.

“And...dammit.” he laughs as he closes the bottom drawer of his heart closet, “Couldn’t find it. I’m sorry [Y/N]-chan, I shouldn’t have taken your time like that. Do you want me to walk you back to the dorm...or maybe you wanna talk on the phone while you walk there?”

He goes to grab his phone but stops as he turns to look at you, your fingers tracing the giant crack on the case before tapping it twice in quick succession.

“[Y/N]--”

“We both really messed up, huh?”

Cater blinks as your eyes stare at him as if, for a brief moment, you could look through him. Through the act, the apathy, the very thing that was keeping him at the seams but also making him feel like he would burst from the inside out.

“...what do you mean?”

You keep gazing at him for a couple of seconds before smiling as you hold up the phone.

“I shouldn’t have snuck into Heartslabyul to just get a need met...and you shouldn’t have walked into that poor student’s room without knocking.” you wave the phone around, “Now your precious item is broken.”

The conversation didn’t feel right. It felt as if you were saying something else and all Cater needed to do was read in between the lines.

But he refused to, he didn’t want to go below surface level. Everything would get so much more complicated if you both took that plunge.

Yet he was feeling daring, the smile on your face a clear challenge as he walked over to you and grabbed the edge of his phone.

“Maybe I wanted to break it.”

Silence reigns in the room as you two stare at each other, both of your hands holding onto the edge of his phone and daring the other to let go. He smiles and tugs on his edge, the movement effortlessly pulling you towards him as you snicker when the edge of your foot touches his.

“Cater.” you whisper as your hands slowly let go of the phone.

“Yes?” he whispers back, purposefully leaning over you as he places the phone on his desk.

“Nothing. I just like saying your name.”

Whether he started it or you started it honestly didn’t matter to him, the only thing Cater cared about was pulling you close and pressing his lips against yours so he could stop listening to all of your complicated sentences.

He didn’t understand them, he didn’t understand you.

And yet you seemed to understand him probably better than he understood himself.

Arms are around his neck as you pull him close, Cater slowly walking you back to his bed as the back of your knees hit the comforter which causes both of you to fall down. You pull away to snicker at the action but are brought right back into the kiss by needy lips, Cater whispering your name as he pushed you upwards so that you would be pressed right against the wall--

He groans when you pull away and is surprised to be kissing a pair of fingers instead of your lips, your smile still as elusive as ever as you slowly push his face away.

“I have a lover, senpai.”

Cater rolls his eyes, “I don’t like those kinds of jokes.”

“I’m not joking. It’s late so I’m just going to go over to his room and tell him that you’ll cover for us, okay? Okay. ”

You pinch his nose as you try to push him away but find your wrists grabbed and locked in place, Cater giving you a hard glare as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I said I don’t like those kinds of jokes.” he leans in and gives you another kiss, “You’re not his lover.”

“Who says that?”

“[Y/N]-chan did.” Cater’s lips press against yours again as he makes his way down to the offending hickey the second year had left on you, “The way you talk about him, the way you weren’t even embarrassed at getting caught. You are toying with the heart of one of my second years and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

He nips at the bruise before placing his lips on it, teeth gently opening up more blood vessels to form a much darker shade on your skin than what was left there before.

“Is that all you can’t forgive me for?”

Cater smiles against your skin as he takes your wrists and leads your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling you into his lap as he answers your question with a kiss.

His tongue meets yours this time around, both of you giggling at the familiar taste. When was the last time you two had kissed like this? Nevermind that, the question was already too annoying to think about. Instead, Cater moves his hips upwards as he groans into your lips at the wanted friction.

He takes a hold of your hips as he pushes you down to meet him mid-movement, his hips rolling up as yours are pushed down. The movement is sloppy and the action itself feels so unsatisfying but Cater almost feels as if this is the only thing he deserves from you. If either of you enjoyed this it would mean you two went too far--

“Haha...look at your face.”

Green eyes look at you as you cup the man’s face, pressing a gentle kiss on his nose as you start to roll your hips on his, meeting him halfway.

“You probably want to cum inside, right Cater-senpai?”

His hips jump at the mere thought, the idea of you laying on your side as his cum drips down from your sex all the way down your thighs.

“We did it with protection a lot ~We always followed the rules of our agreement…”

Hands dive between you two, Cater’s eyes never leaving yours as he works to get his pants off while his hands try to unbutton yours as well. You smile and meet him halfway again, taking your own bottoms off and tossing them carelessly to the side as you both are left in nothing but your underwear.

“Every time we did it--you always looked like you wanted to do something else--”

Cater takes the chance of you biting your lower lip to go a bit faster, the tip of his cock rubbing against you at a faster speed as he changed position quickly and hooked your knees over his elbows.

“And at first---at first I thought it was just you getting bored…”

He gasps when two of your fingers press right at the tip of his cock, the way he was moving his hips allowing it to rub comfortably against the padding of your fingers as you gently cooed at the precum gathering there.

“But one time I was able to see it. See what you really wanted--!”

His own hand makes his way in between the mess of hips and stuttered movements, his fingers tracing a familiar pattern up and down your sex as he feels you pull him out of his boxers and start to pump in rhythm.

“If...If you cum after me...I’ll let you cum inside...”

It’s starting to get hotter, Cater feels like he can see his own breath fogging up his vision.

“Count it as reward…”

The coil in his stomach is tightening, your hands moving faster as his stutters with the rhythm you were setting.

“For being honest with me at least one time.”

It’s a sticky mess, the white stuff sticking to your belly and his as he rides out his orgasm against your hand and stopping altogether when the feeling gets too much. His fingers work overtime before your back arches and you give into yours as well, your toes curling for a moment before your feet hit the mattress unceremoniously.

He didn’t know where in the world that had come from or what possessed you to talk like that...but that was probably the hardest he had released in the month you two stopped interacting with one another.

Cater looks at the mess once again before moving to clean it up, stopping only when he feels a hand tug at the front of his shirt and a pair of lips meeting his all over again.

“Offer is still on the table, senpai.”

You unbutton the first few buttons of your shirt, smiling as larger hands batted yours away to continue the job.

“Please do your best to hold out longer.”

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

Invective Pain

Alpha Bakugou x F!Omega Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested by: @goatsenpaiultimate

Hehe, sorry for the wait you guys. It’s been a rough few weeks for me. Also, the song ‘Butterfly’s Repose’ by Zabawa is amazing to listen to while you read this💜

Warnings: harsh language, Bakugou being an asshole, angst

“Get the fuck off me.”

��Alpha, please.”

“I said, get off. What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been too clingy,” you prove his point and cling to his arm.

“I miss you,” you try to nuzzle his neck so he can scent you. With your wolf quirk, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from Bakugou for long periods of time. Your instincts were on hyperdrive, always wanting him within your reach so you knew he was safe.

“Don’t you understand what ‘no’ means?” Bakugou tenses up as you continue trying to climb his body. Due to his inability to express himself, he’s still not used to your affections.

“I can’t help it,” you ruffle your tail to prove your point.

“Well, try harder to help it.”

“But, alpha-“

“No, I’m sick and tired of your bullshit. As soon as I come home, you want to climb all over me. I can’t even take a fucking shower,” you hunch into yourself as you take a step away from him. Looking back on it, he did have a point. You could stand to at least allow him a few moments to himself before you bombard him. But, it’s just hard on you.

Because of your quirk, you’ve always been the type to cling to people and try to protect them. You miss your parents because you considered them to be your pack but, that all changed when you met Bakugou. After a few months of dating, you moved in with Bakugou (your inner Omega told you she’d love to start her own pack with him). However, it’s been a difficult transition.

Bakugou normally takes your clinginess in stride but, it’s been hard for him lately. All he wants to do is take you underneath him and nuzzle you and treat you like a queen. But, he’s been dealing with this case. It’s been stressing him out and he’s never been the type to deal with stress in a correct way.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, I- FUCK! Omega. I just can’t keep doing this. You’re fucking annoying. This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have moved in together,” his words stung in your mind like a swarm of hornets, making you yelp in your mind. Although, no one would ever be able to tell your inner turmoil from the calm look on your face. Why does he have to tear you down with his words? What does he gain from your dissociation? Does it bring him satisfaction to win the argument? Even at the expense of your heart? The same heart he swore to protect when he chose you as a mate.

“I’m sorry,” and you don’t understand why. You just stand there with a blank expression, no longer feeling that your heart is safe in his hands. And, that is worse than losing an argument the two of you have.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I’m tired of you sticking to my fucking side like a toddler. You’re always hovering over me. I need space,” you intend to give him all the space he needs. “Selfish extra.”

He doesn’t know what his words do to you as he goes to the room you share, bumping you out of his way. You want to cry, you want to chirp, you want to-to-die; without him-without your alpha- what is there to live for?

Your omega crawls to your heart, shriveling up like a raisin as if your soul has been sucked by a vacuum. You feel your heart drop; the first sign of Omega Depression and you don’t tell Katsuki. How can you?

He made it clear how bothersome you were in his life. You never meant to be a burden to him. All you wanted to do was love him and give him the love he lacked from his teenage years. But, it’s transparent that you’re not wanted by the person your soul has imprinted upon.

You sit on the couch, staring into nothingness. What did you do wrong? What was so wrong with wanting to love him? You feel weak. Maybe if Katsuki had someone stronger, someone who could take his invective words in stride, he’d be happier.

As you wallow in your own pain, Katsuki is upstairs taking a shower. Part of him feels relieved to finally have some space to himself and the other scolds him for what said; he barely remembers what he said to you exactly. All he knows that your face is blank so, he assumes it’s not too bad since you weren’t crying.

He walks out of the shower expecting to see you but, he’s greeted with an empty bed. He figures you just want space to be angry so, he lets you stay downstairs.

‘It’ll be fine tomorrow,’ it won’t. As he dozes off to that thought, you were downstairs stuck in your mind. It's your fault for always forgiving him after he’s verbally ruined you You just thought your love for him outweighed anything he said to you. But, your unconditional love has reached its limit.

You wait till he falls asleep before you break the facade (you still want him to get his sleep so he can wake up healthy tomorrow). You heave and whimper as you curl into a ball on the cold living room floor. You shake from the force of your tears, tears falling like rain in the spring. You’re trying to smile to stop the tears but, your mouth ends up in a horrible grimace as you silently berate yourself. Your hands scrape at your arms, nails taking patches of your skin as a way to distract your mind. You don’t sleep that night; you don’t sleep for any of the nights that follow.

When you hear your alpha’s alarm clock sound, you climb on the couch with your face smooshed to the cushions. Katsuki follows his nightly routine, not even checking to see if you’re okay. He just gets dressed for his patrol and leaves breakfast on the table for you, kissing your hair goodbye before he leaves out the door.

You’re once again crying as you just lay there. You don’t bother to call your job to notify them of your absence. If anything, you just lay there, your tail curled around your body as if it’s protecting you from the world.

You feel useless against your heart because you know you shouldn’t have allowed Bakugou’s temper to get to this point. You had suggested therapy and anger management to him many times but, he was persistent in telling you that he had it under control. You knew he thought seeking therapy was weak (as he thinks most things are weak) but, you just wanted him to think before he spoke.

You can tell that he’s tried to do better for you and you appreciate that but, it’s not enough anymore.

This was the last straw. Not because you still don’t love him but, because you’re now in your Omega’s Depression. It’s a fairly new phenomenon. The doctors warned Omegas and Alphas that their second genders could drive them into a comatose state if the genders were met with unfavorable conditions. Your omega has started the process and you can only hope that Katsuki figures that out before it’s too late.

At first, Bakugou didn’t think anything about your attitude. He just thought you were giving him space (which he hated. It feels weird to him to be alone when he was always with you and he’s too prideful to admit that) however, he knows something is wrong when you start to avoid him.

You don’t talk to him like you use to, you don’t cook his favorite spicy ramen anymore, hell, you don’t even come to bed anymore. It’s like two strangers living in the same house (well, roommates would be more accurate). And, he misses you.

“Why are you sleeping on that shitty couch?” He’s standing above you with his arms folded, head to the side so he can hide his blush. You don’t respond, dried tear stains on your cheeks.

“Not gonna answer? What you’re too good to speak to me?” He squats down to eye-level. His breath fans across your face, the smokey caramel of his scent bringing more tears to your eyes. “Omega?”

You still don’t answer. He takes that as you still being angry about the argument; he also notes the change in your scent.

“Tch,” he walks to the bedroom and comes back with a few blankets so he can make a small hammock beside the couch at your side. He slips into the covers, hand upon your waist so he can feel you. “Goodnight, Omega.”

The next day, you’re still in the same spot on the couch above him. He does his routine, this time spending longer at saying goodbye.

“I’ll be back, Omega. Cuddling wouldn’t be the worse thing when I get home,” you stare blankly.

“And, I put some of your favorite cookies on the table,” still nothing.

“I love you,” nothing. And, that’s how he knows that everything is wrong. He spends the day on patrol, withdrawn from his hero-work. All he can think about is that blank look in your eye, the stillness of your home, the taste of failure on his tongue.

‘I fucked up,’ he sure did.

He comes home and you're still in the same spot. He doesn’t even think you got up to use the bathroom. You’re the first thing he attends to when his boots cross the threshold.

“Omega, you need a bath,” you don’t move so he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. Your body is sweating and that stench gets even worse. “Omega, I’m sorry.”

But, sorry doesn’t fix everything. Sorry is nothing when you truly hurt someone. Sorry is when someone feels obligated to correct their wrongs (not because they want to). Sorry is the Black Licorice of apologies.

“Have you gone to work?” No. He knows you haven’t but, he just wants you to talk to him. His alpha cries for his mate yet, she doesn’t respond. “Baby?”

The bath is spent in silence as you sag on him. His hand's card through your (h/c) hair, trying to release some of your tension. It’s such an intimate moment of him caressing your body as though you are a precious work of art. His lips latched onto the mating mark on the side of your neck, reminding you that he cares.

When he gets you out of the tub, he dries you with your favorite fluffy towel. His carmine eyes gaze at you adoringly from your navel, blonde hair resting against your belly. One in a while, he’ll kiss your legs and feet, silently showing how much he truly cares for you.

Night rolls around and you both follow the same routine as before; you’re laying on the couch and he’s laying beside you on the floor. You’re not eating and that terrifies him. Sadly, this goes on for another month. And, Katsuki is growing desperate to have his omega back.

“I allowed my anger to do this to her- to me-to us. And, now, I don’t know if I can help her anymore,” he joined an anger management group (which, coincidentally helped his public image as well) after he realized the argument caused the rift in your relationship.

And, you’re proud of him on the inside, even if you can’t show it. At least he’s trying but, your omega just turns a blind eye to his efforts. You commend Katsuki for not giving up though.

‘It must be hard trying to change and improve for someone and they don’t even acknowledge your existence,’ you do feel bad for him. It seems that your love does outweigh his words.

But, you’re dying. He knows it. You know it. It’s known. He just won’t accept it.

“Omega,” you’re unconscious. He came home from the weekly session to find you unresponsive (well, more unresponsive than what you’ve been). “Omega, fuck-please-I God I, please wake up.”


So, you’re at the hospital now. The antiseptic burns your sensitive nose as you’re propped up on the hospital bed, sheets crinkling under your body. The doctors told Bakugou that you didn’t really have long to live but, he just can’t allow you to go without trying his best to save you.

“Omega, please, look at me,” you look at him but, it’s like you’re not seeing him. Your eyes don’t have the shine they used to. “Omega, please.”

You can’t answer him. What if you said the wrong thing? You were clinging to life by a single strand of fiber, death clinging to your scent. You knew you couldn’t handle it if Katsuki’s words hurt you once more.

“Please, talk to me, yell at me. Hit me. Do anything,” you can’t. Your voice is stuck in your mind. “Get mad. Throw something. Spit on me! Push me away. Shit, anything. Please just please please pleaseeee, fucking, please. PLEASE I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO BE WITHOUT YOU. Please stop looking like you want to die.”

“But, I do,” you hope he can understand.

“NO! NO NO! I FUCKING NEED YOU. I LOVE YOU,” he chokes on his words as he gathers your face in his hands. “I’m such a piece of shit. It takes you dying for me to realize how much I love you. But, I do. I love you so much it hurts. I can’t lose you.”

“Wipe your tears,” you brush your thumbs across his cheek to gather his tears. “I’m right here.”

“How can you love me still? Your will to live is fucking weak and it’s my fault! And, I’m sitting here asking you to hold on for me. You don’t even have to speak to me. Just stay here. I promise I’ll stay here with you. You can’t leave me.”

“Bakugou-“

“For fuck's sake, It’s Katsuki to you! I did this to you. I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for pushing you away when I felt I didn’t deserve your love. I’m sorry for making you feel the pain I felt all these years. I’m sorry for being a shitty alpha,” he cries in your lap as you pat his back. Your omega stores, crooning to help her alpha. You’re not dead; the future may look bleak but, you know it will finally bring you the love you longed for.

————————————————————————-

Tag List💕

@orokayagi @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

[winterscaptain]

faith.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: we start to heal, kids! if there’s interest, i’ll write up the outtakes (wink wink) from this and post it sometime soon. your feedback keeps me going - please tell me what you think! also, if you haven’t already check out the inspo blog for ajf! (here’s the nsfw one, too - but it's definitely 18+ only!)

reality check (part one) | unimaginable (part two)

words: 3.5k warnings: implied sex, language, miscarriage/pregnancy mention

summary: healing is bittersweet.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everything looks fine down here. Since it’s been about four days, your preliminary recovery is finished. The key now is to let your body rest and reset.” Brienne removes her gloves and tosses them in the trash. “You can try again in six weeks, if you want, but no penetrative sex for two full weeks.” She washes her hands and points at you, then Aaron, with wet hands. “I mean it.” 

You share a look with Aaron while Brienne turns around for paper towels. His lips quirk into a wry, almost sheepish, smile.

Turning back to her, you ask, “Is there anything I should look out for or do differently or anything?”

Please tell me there’s something I can control. 

She shakes her head. “You’re doing everything perfectly. Keep an eye out for any heavy bleeding or anything that doesn't feel quite right in the next couple of weeks.” A warm hand lands on your shoulder and another reaches across you for Aaron, who stands and meets her in the middle, capturing her fingers in his palm. “I have faith in you both. I know this one was a little unexpected on all fronts, but if you want to do this for real, I will make sure I’m doing everything in my power to give you all the support and resources I can.” 

Aaron’s brown eyes are soft and grateful under his knit brow. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” 

She snorts and squeezes his hand before letting him go. “Oh, Aaron. I have a feeling you and I will know each other for a long time - Brienne is just fine.”

+++

Aaron slides into bed beside you and wraps you up in his arms. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You lace your fingers between his where his hand rests across your abdomen. “How’re you doin’?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You turn in his arms, and he gathers you to his chest while you throw one leg over his hip and wiggle the other between his thighs. You just want to be as close as possible to soothe the ache in your chest - it’s working. “I’m okay. My bits have stopped screaming at me, so that’s an improvement.” For now, you ignore the fact that he’s avoided your question. Sometimes it's easier to let Aaron think he’s won - for a while, at least. 

“Indeed, it is,” he says through a laugh. “I more so meant the other thing.” 

“What, like my emotional state?”

He shrugs around you. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“I feel like there should be...something to look forward to. There’s still a part of me that’s really excited, but there’s nothing to be excited about.” You shake your head, burrowing further into his chest. “It’s hard to explain.” 

His hand rubs up and down your spine, firm and slow. “Makes perfect sense. I think I’m right there with you.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

You can feel him shake his head and he scoots impossibly closer to you. There can’t be a single inch of skin he isn't touching, or at least that’s what it feels like. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes, things just happen.” 

Your eyes close, exhausted, and you push back the thoughts that have been swirling around in your head for the last three days. 

Yeah, sometimes things just happen. Getting stabbed nine times in your home by a career serial killer? Just happens. Your wife getting murdered by that same serial killer, perhaps? Yeah, that just happens. Or maybe your best friend ‘dying’ and then coming back to life? Sure. 

Maybe a couple massive losses in a couple horrible years just aren’t enough. 

What’s next? 

I’ll take ‘Losing a Kid for 1600, Alex.’

“Hey.” He taps the middle of your back with his hand to get your attention. “I can hear you thinking.” 

You grumble, “Sorry,” and turn over, your back pressed firmly to his chest. 

“We’re okay, sweetheart. We’re fine. Jack is healthy, you’re healthy, I’m healthy. We’re getting married.” You snort, and he laughs. “Alright. We’re getting married...eventually.” That gets a giggle out of you, and he continues. “We’re looking for a house we can actually afford because of our fulfilling and important jobs. We have one fantastic son already.” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re in good shape.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

He pulls you close, nuzzling into your neck and running fingers up your ticklish sides. You squirm and a little peal of laughter leaves you. “I’ve got you on all of those, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, and you know he saw it in the mirrored closet doors on the wall across from you. “If you think I’m going to argue with the youngest AUSA in District history, you’re nuts.” 

A satisfied hum leaves him, and he slips his hand under your shirt, tracing over your skin. “That’s probably a good idea.” Kisses find their way across your shoulders as his hands hike your shirt farther up your body. 

“Aaron,” you whine. “Brienne said no sex.” 

You watch him deliberate in the mirror, making play at deep thought. “...No. She said no penetrative sex, if my memory serves.” His hands wander down to the edge of your underwear and you squirm against him despite yourself. He drops his lips to the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver when he whispers, “And my memory always serves.”

“Damn you.” 

He grins and ducks under the covers, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he settles between your thighs.

+++

The following Monday is your first day back at work, and it’s more than a little difficult to be normal. Aaron had only taken the day after to make sure he was available to drive you to and from Brienne’s office for your procedure, but you’d taken the rest of the week. You’re not sure what Aaron told them - maybe a flu or a stomach bug or maybe you “just needed some personal time” - but you imagined everyone would ask you about it anyways. 

Aaron presses a kiss to your cheek before the elevator opens. You make sure you’re watching when he falls into Hotch Mode as the doors part before you. It’s difficult to hold back your fond smile, but you manage. 

You set your things down at your desk, noting the small purple orchid and note sitting by your desktop. JJ turns in her chair to face you. “Hey! How was your visit with Dean?” 

Oh. That works. Good one, Aaron.

Dean had moved to New York to start with a new brokerage house at the beginning of last summer, and you’d been meaning to get up there to see him. It’s a highly plausible lie. It also helps that Aaron could sell water to a fish. 

Well, he is a lawyer. 

“It was great. Nice to take some time, you know?” You smile at her and you’re sure it doesn’t look quite right when her eyes narrow just a touch. Settling at your desk, you pick up the note addressed to you and open it. 

A flower for my flower :) I know. I’m gross. Sue me. 

(Or don’t...I’ll use my J.D. if you do.)

I love you. - AH

p.s. Don’t worry - I’ll water it when you're away. 

“Conference room in five minutes - Garcia’s got something for us.” Emily strides past you all on the bridge and you grab your tablet. 

Derek offers you a hand and you take it, tucking yourself under his arm as you walk. “What’s the orchid for?”

You shrug, covering how touched you really are by the gesture. “I dunno. I guess we just have a very thoughtful section chief.” 

+++

Inspired by Aaron’s cover story, you give Dean a call when you make it back to the hotel that night after an exhausting day scouting crime scenes that have every indication of a serial killer running rampant through the tiny Maine township.

“Hey babes! How are ya?” His chirp comes singing through the phone, and you find yourself smiling. 

“I’m alright.” 

You can almost hear his eyebrows raise. “Nope. Bullshit. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, if anyone asks, I just got home from visiting with you for the week.” You start to unpack your go bag, hanging up a couple of your nicer work sets and setting up the bathroom the way you like it. 

“What’s Aaron lying about this time?” 

You laugh, but it tapers off quickly. “Well, as it happens, we had a really shit week last week and I had to take some time off.” 

He’s far more solemn when he speaks again, “That sounds like a little more than a ‘I got a flat tire on my way to work and my coffee was cold’ kind of shit week if you actually took time off.” He pauses. “Oh please don’t tell me you broke off the engagement.” 

“Not at all, not at all. Aaron and I are fine, but…” Going back and forth for a moment, you ultimately decide to tell him. Maybe it will get easier if you say it out loud. “I, um. I miscarried last week.” You’re proud of yourself for spitting it out with only a little stumbling, and Dean’s immediate concern brings tears to your eyes. 

“Oh God, honey. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it at all?”

“I mean -” you take a deep breath. “No? I don’t know. I feel really shitty about it and we talked to Aaron’s mom and I know it isn’t my fault, but -” You huff, getting a little frustrated. “It was a girl, Dean. Aaron was so excited.” 

Something creaks in the background, and you know he’s just settled into the ancient armchair in the corner of his studio. “Don’t forget babe, you were excited, too. This isn’t just disappointing for Aaron, as much as you’d like to make everything about him.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s right. “I know, but -”

“No! No buts. This is a loss for both of you, and it's huge. Like, I dunno why people don’t talk about it more. Your kid is your kid is your kid if you wanted them and they didn’t make it. It doesn’t matter if you met her or not - you knew her and she was yours.” 

So, maybe the tears weren’t finished. Dean stops talking for a minute, and you know he can hear you sniffling. 

“Are you going to try again?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour?

“Well, we didn’t really try for this one, but I think we’ve caught the bug. I was planning on talking to Aaron about it a little more when I get home -”

“What’s the case?”

“Maine, probably a serial killer,” you answer promptly, getting right back on track. You’re used to Dean’s quick interruptions. Context is important to him and you’re always happy to provide it. “I don’t think we’re going to try, per se, but I don’t think we’ll be too concerned about being careful either. That way it’s a pleasant surprise instead of something stressful or disappointing, you know?”

“Ah,” he says. “A ‘fuck it and forget it’ approach. I dig it. And we all know Aaron can ‘fuck it’ with the best of them - you’ll have to tell me how the ‘forgetting it’ part goes.”

You laugh despite yourself, wiping at your cheeks. “How do you always manage to make me laugh?”

His laugh sounds from the other side of the phone, and it warms you from your fingers to your toes. You can almost forget its nearly five below zero outside. “What can I say? Laughter is the virtue of the gays.”

Your phone beeps at you, and it’s Aaron. “Hey Beanie, I gotta let you go. Aaron’s beeping in on me.” 

“Go get your tub’a humbus, babe. I’ll talk to you later.”

You switch calls, and raise the phone back to your ear. “Hey, love. What’s goin’ on?”

“I just missed you.” You can hear the sink in the background and you check the clock. 

Ah yes, dishes before bed because someone can’t sleep if there are dishes in the sink. 

“Hi!” Jack shouts from across the kitchen, and it makes you smile. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, my loves! Though, Aaron, I must say -” you stop yourself. “Am I on speaker?” 

There’s a shuffle, and his voice sounds a lot closer when he replies. “Not anymore.” You know he’s smiling. 

You laugh. “I was going to say, it’s a lot easier to abide by our no-contact order when I’m five states away.”

“Don’t remind me.” You can’t see him, but he sounds at least a little pained. “We’ll be almost done with that by the time you get home, which is nice.” 

“Very nice, indeed.” Settling into bed, you pull the covers up to your chin. “I wish you were here with me.” 

You can hear him walk through the house, getting some distance from Jack. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. As nice as your new digs are, Chief Hotchner, sleeping without you when I’m on cases is really rough.” A light laugh leaves you. “I still haven’t gotten used to it.” 

He hums. “Well, I’ll make it worth your while when you get home, how’s that?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you say with a smile. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Get some rest. I love you more.” 

+++

Your first hunch was right - serial killer with a preference for blonde women in their forties. Luckily, those factors alone made for a nice, neat, narrow profile, and you were down to a small pool of suspects within days. 

It’s safe to say your heart isn’t in it. You’re almost relieved when JJ calls you out on the way to the medical examiner’s office.

“What’s going on with you and Aaron?” Her bright blue eyes stay on the road as she speaks, but you know she’s completely tuned into you. “You guys seem...off.” 

“We’re fine - the two of us, I mean.” You’re not sure how much to want to tell her. She isn’t Dean. You have to work with her every day, and as much as she’s your friend, it’s hard to talk about this when she already has a son of her own and another on the way. “There’s just, um, some stuff going on at home.”

She reaches across the console and takes your hand. “Whatever it is,” and she sounds like she knows. “You’re not alone.” 

You look over at her and squeeze her hand. There’s something mournful and heartbreaking about the set of her mouth, and something cold and sympathetic washes over you. “Really?”

She nods. “Ours was a girl.” Her confession is quiet and her eyes never once flicker from the road. 

Your voice is just as quiet, almost a secret. “Ours, too.” 

+++

Aaron’s waiting for you in the bullpen when you land in the afternoon two days later. Without shame, you sail through the glass doors and into his arms. It’s a treat - you never feel like you’re truly home until he’s holding you, and you usually have to wait until you get home. 

Derek teases you both on his way back to his desk, and you flip him off. Everyone’s in high spirits and you’re surprised their good moods have rubbed off on you, as well. 

Emily releases you all early with the promise you’ll have your after action reports into her by tomorrow afternoon. On the way home, you tell Aaron about your conversation with JJ, and he’s so moved by it, you’re almost brought to tears again. 

+++

The next morning, Aaron leaves early for a meeting at headquarters in DC. He kisses you goodbye, and in your half-asleep state you grab his tie and make an attempt to keep him right where he is. 

It doesn’t work, but you’re rewarded with a couple extra seconds of adoration, even with your morning breath. He chuckles against your mouth. 

“I gotta go, baby.” 

You whine incoherently at him, but he dodges your reaching hands and  whispers close to your ear as he brings the covers up over your shoulder. “You have another hour before you need to be up. Sleep. I love you.” Another kiss presses into your temple, and you hear the bedroom door close softly behind him. 

When another hour lapses (during which you dozed, quite thankful he told you to get some more sleep), you rise and get ready to head into the office. Jack’s up and getting dressed in his room while you get started in the kitchen. 

But, of course, there’s no need. Aaron has a breakfast spread ready and covered on the counter, with coffee just finished in the percolator. 

A god among men…

You pull your favorites from the pile, and set aside a few things for Jack. This cut your prep time in half at least, so you’ll have a little more time to eat and get settled before you have to be out the door. 

Assembling breakfast is easy, and you and Jack share space in relative silence. He looks up at you over his eggs and grins. Oh, how you love that boy. 

+++

When you get into the office, JJ’s reading a note, a little white envelope tucked behind it. You’re the first two in the office - a shocker, considering the two children between you, both under the age of ten. 

“What have you got there?”

She looks up and you can tell her eyes are a little misty. “Just a really sweet note someone left on my desk.” Waving it in the air, she asks, “Want to read it?”

You smile, setting your things down. “Only if you want me to.” 

She hands it over, and you take it, immediately recognizing Aaron’s handwriting. 

JJ- 

I wish we didn’t know the same loss, but I’m selfishly glad it’s you. Thank you for taking care of us so well. 

As always, anything for you. Just say the word. 

  AH

 “You know,” JJ says as you hand the note back to her. “He wasn’t like this before you.” 

You snort. “Don’t I know it.” 

“No, I’m serious. Even before you guys got together, you made him better. This -” she holds the note up and flicks it, “never would have happened eight years ago.” 

+++

By the time the next case is solved and everyone comes home, Brienne’s orders have expired. Jack is long asleep and you find Aaron in his office. His head is propped up on his hand, elbow on his desk, as he reads over some esoteric legal decision he’s decided to research as a hobby. 

Like he’s not busy enough. 

In fairness, he did defend his newest activity over dinner a few weeks ago. 

“What else am I supposed to do after Jack’s asleep and you’re out on a case? Watch TV? Go to bed early? No, I’m going to review legal decisions and take notes so I don’t bore you to death when you get home.”

“Aaron, you could never bore me to death.” 

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” 

He looks over his reading glasses, and his eyes light up. “Welcome home.” 

You offer him a warm smile as you cross his office and round his desk. “Hi.” 

Aaron drops his pen and pulls you close by your hips, and you lean on the side of his chair. “How was the case?”

“I would hate to spoil Emily’s report that will inevitably be about three hours late getting to your desk on Tuesday.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “I see.” His hand drops down to the outside of your thigh, and you swing a leg over his chair to straddle him, getting situated on his lap. “You know, I still have work to do.” 

“What? Is this Supreme Court decision more interesting than me?”

He shrugs, leaning forward again and picking up his file. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and you settle against his chest as he continues to read. With a sigh, he says, “You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone who wants something specific.” 

You huff. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I’m getting any in here.” 

“You don’t know that.” His voice is even, almost distracted, but when you shift over him you can tell he’s affected. “Something might surprise you.” 

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

He takes another breath and, just like he’s done so many times before, says, “Sweetheart, I’m not suggesting anything.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @emmasjulixn @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @slickdickwitchbitch @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf  @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds

[catxsnow]

PROTECT YOU D.W.

Request:  Could I request something with angst and fluff for Damian Wayne please? One where there's a mission that he isn't involved in because he's injured but his s/o is on it but then he freaks out when her coms are off bcs reader might have been injured or dead but when they all get back to the cave s/o is fine. Thanks!

Warning: angst, fluff, Older!Damian

A/N: I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of writing for Damian

GIF not mine

Word Count: 2.5k

Damian hated being left out of a mission. No matter how damaged he was, there was always still argument that he could pull his weight on the team. The time that he had a concussion he had convinced Bruce to still let him go out, and another time when he had a sprained wrist. Damian always found a way to make sure that he was still going out as Robin, especially when you were going with them as well.

You and Damian had been dating just under two years. He arrived at the manor just about a year after you did. It took a while for him to warm up to you, to anyone there, but you seemed to be the easiest to get along with. Damian found himself allured by you. Your skills were comparable to his and when you had put him on his ass in a matter of minutes, he had some respect for you as well.

The more you trained together, the more he was impressed by you. It didn't help that the longer you spent time together, the more you realized that you had grown immense feelings for him. Feelings that were too stubborn to go away or be ignored. It was why, when Damian had won a spar against you, arms pinned to the mat and hovering above him, you had acted on impulse and kissed him.

He was shocked at first, unsure of where this had come from. It didn't take long for his grip on you to loosen, leaving you just enough wiggle room to flip your positions. Damian wasn't sure if he was more surprised by the fact that you had kissed him or that you had used it again him to win your spar.

Either way, it had led to more kisses, more time together, and a relationship that Bruce was weary about. Damian had already acted so high and mighty when he was fighting as Robin, he couldn't imagine what he was going to be like when the two of you fought together. And he was right to be worried.

Damian became protective of you. He wouldn't let you leave on a mission, or even patrol, without him. He would be the one to constantly have your back because there was no one he trusted more to keep you safe than himself. Damian had fallen in love with you and he couldn't bare the thought of losing you to anything.

It was why Damian had once again tried to convince his father that he was healthy enough to go on a mission. His arm was in a cast, but that didn't stop him from wanting to go along side you against a dangerous mission. It was the first time that you were going without him since you had been dating and he was terrified.

It lead to comments about keeping you safe, being there to protect you, and how useless his brothers were. You couldn't stand by and watch any longer as Damian continued to be spoiled with getting what he wanted. This behavior that he had - about only him being able to keep  you safe - it drove you crazy.

"Damian Wayne!" You bellowed. Your voice echoed through the walls of the cave and had caused everyone to freeze in their spots. Damian was yelling at his father to let him go with them as well. He desperately wanted to be there for you, there was just something in his gut telling him that you weren't going to be safe that night.

Damian stopped arguing with Bruce and winced. He slowly turned to face you with his mouth still agape. You stood there with your suit on and hands on your hips, nothing but disappointment fell in your eyes.

Dick looked wearily between Tim and you, unsure of what was about to go down. It wasn't very often that you had yelled at him, much less using his whole name. The tension in the batcave grew as you continued to say nothing until it got unbearable.

"I am a grown adult, I can take care of myself without you being there all the time!" You finally snapped. "I'm tired of you acting like I'm less of a valued member of this team. You go around making it seem like I can't take care of myself! It's degrading. I don't need you to protect me, I never needed you to protect me."

"Beloved, that's not-"

"Save it, Damian," you cut him off, pulling the cowl above your head. He watched silently as you got on top of you bike, revving it up to leave. "Listen to your father, stay here."

Even when you and Damian went on missions together, before leaving the cave, you had always told each other you loved them. There was always the chance that something would go wrong and that someone wouldn't make it back. It wasn't a risk that you were willing to take about missing a final 'I love you'.

However, as you sped out of the cave without another word, Damian had the words hanging off the tip of his tongue. His head hung low as the rest of his family looked at him. They had all known that he was protective of you and that sometimes he did push the limits to keep you safe.

He had never known that you felt that strongly about this. Damian groaned in frustration at your fight, he hated arguing with you, especially right before a mission. You were more reckless when you were angry, and this time he wasn't there for you. No one was there for you, this mission had you going solo.

Bruce looked down to his son, unsure of what to say to him to make things better. He simply squeezed his shoulder before jumping into the batmobile. Tim got in beside him and Dick on his motorcycle.

"Damian," Dick called out to him as the other two left. "They're going to be fine out there, okay? (Y/N) is strong. They aren't angry with you, trust me."

"Better catch up, Grayson."

><

Damian was freaking out.

His father had announced half way through the mission that your comms had been turned off. He wasn't sure if you had done this yourself or something worse. Either way, if it wasn't for Alfred nearly tying him down to the chair, he would have been off searching the city for you. Damian was terrified about what was going on with you.

He knew that this feeling in his gut should have been something he worried about more. Damian should have known that you shouldn't have gone out on your own, he knew that something bad was going to happen. Bruce had full faith that you were fine, he wasn't worried about your comms being off - which had only frustrated Damian even more.

They should be out searching the city for you to see what happened, not come back to the cave where nothing was being done. The mission had been successful, there was no need for worry about where you were. You were the farthest part from the city, it made sense that you would arrive last.

Yet, even Dick was starting to get a little nervous about your whereabouts. It wasn't common for you to turn your comms off, at least not for this long. Whatever happened to you out there, it had to have been for good reason. There was no point in poking the fire with Damian and getting him more worried about you.

It was different for Dick to see Damian so worried about someone. Of course he worried about the rest of his family, but nothing like he worried about you. In Damian's nineteen short years of life, he never expected to love someone so much. It was an unbreakable love between the two of you, no matter how much you argued.

"Where are they!" Damian yelled. He wanted to take his father's vehicle and race out in the streets to find you. He would have too if he wasn't constantly held back.

"(Y/N) said that they were fine right when the mission was over," Tim tried to reassure his brother. "There's nothing to worry about, Damian."

"Bullshit, Drake," Damian snapped. He paused his pacing to glare at his brother. "(Y/N) never does this. Something must be wrong." It was true, you never turned off your comms unless you were meant to go dark. Damian only hoped that you were doing this because you were mad at him still, not because you were injured.

The only thing he hated seeing more than you getting hurt, was you being mad at him. Whenever the two of your fought, there was always a very short period of time before one of you apologized. Damian prayed that this wasn't going to be escalated. He didn't know that you felt so strongly about this, otherwise he would have been less over protecting of you.

The echo of your bike bounced off the walls of the cave. Damian eagerly perked up from his place to wait your arrival. He had no idea what kind of shape you were going to be in when you finally got here, he was worried about you. Damian stood just beside the place you parked your motorcycle with an anxious look.

The second you put the kickstand down and removed your helmet, Damian had thrown himself in your arms. He pulled away from you only to to place his lips on yours. All the concern and anxiety he was feeling melted away with your touch. It was always you that was able to calm him down.

"I was so worried about you, beloved," Damian admitted to you. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the small cut along your cheek and the frown on your face. The pad of his thumb gently wiped below your wound. It was then that he noticed the blood dripping down your neck as well. "What happened?"

"Nothing that I couldn't handle on my own," you assured. The tightness in your voice caught him off guard - you were still mad at him. That was confirmed as you pushed past him and everyone else waiting for you. Just as you were about to leave the cave, it was Bruce that stopped you.

"Why were your comms off," he asked. Damian wasn't the only one worried about you. Not to mention that turning them off could have endangered the whole mission - lucky for you, it hadn't. Without another word, you ripped off your cowl and tossed and threw it backwards for him to catch.

The earpiece in your cowl had been damaged. Lucky for you, the bullet shot in your direction had just grazed your suit, not your head. The cowl seemed to satisfy Bruce's question enough, he didn't say anything else as you left to your room.

"I think you messed up," Dick pointed out the obvious. Damian shot a deathly glare at him and stormed out of the cave as well. At that moment, he didn't care if you were mad at him, he was just glad that you were alive.

He hovered by your door for a moment, debating whether or not to knock or just walk in. As he heard the shower going, he decided to just wait on your bed (shared bed at that point, Damian rarely slept in his own anymore). For once, the room seemed foreign to him, like he shouldn't be in there without you.

This fear that resided within him wasn't fear that he normally had when you went on missions, this was a fear that you had finally had enough of him. This kind of fear overpowered every other emotion trying to break through. It left him unable to sit still and cowering from his own thoughts.

The second that he heard the shower turn off, Damian felt as if his heart was going to burst through his chest. His leg bounced up and down as he waited for you to walk out.

"Damian," you spoke as you opened the door. A towel was wrapped around you and water droplets fell from your hair. You knew that he was waiting in your room for you, and yet the surprise of seeing him so nervous shocked you. 

"Beloved, please," Damian stood up to meet you. "I'm sorry that I made you fell this way. I know that you're capable of taking care of yourself, I know you don't need me to protect you."

You said nothing as you continued to pull out a pair of pajamas. Damian sighed at your silence. He hastily grabbed both your hands and forced you to face him. The fear in his eyes took you back. Damian didn't show fear, he always exuded confidence. Seeing him like this, you knew that he was being truthful.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Damian told you. "I only argued to go on these missions because... because I'm petrified that one day something is going to go wrong and that I'm not going to be able to say goodbye, or you to I. If I'm ever going to die out there, I want to make sure that your face is the last I see."

Your bottom lip wobbled as he spoke. You tore your hands out of his so you could pull him into a hug. Tears spilled down your cheeks - you couldn't bare the thought of losing Damian. "I love you, Damian. So, much. I'm sorry that I was angry with you, I know you just want what's best."

Damian shook his head - you were right to be angry, he just wished that he had known about it sooner. Your hands rest at the back of his neck as you pulled him in for a heart-warming kiss.

"Stay with me tonight?" You asked, playing with the few baby hairs at the back of his neck. Your touch sent a chill up his spine. The lingering water on your skin left you cold and you craved the warmth that Damian always had radiating off of him.

"Of course."

"You might not always be able to protect me out on the streets, but you always keep me safe from the nightmares that haunt me."

At the end of the day, that was the protection that you needed the most. You didn't need him to hover over you like a child when you were protecting Gotham. You needed him to remind you that your nightmares weren't real, that they were nothing but a figment of your imagination. Damian was real, and he knew how to keep you safe.

You would always need Damian, even if it wasn't in the way that he imagined.

[schrijverr]

Proper and Educated

When writing their introduction songs Tim and Jonny get into a fight about where Jonny is from. When he gets upset and leaves, Tim goes after him to comfort him and apologize.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: it’s the mechs, so there is talk about getting killed and Jonny also mentions shooting himself in the head. Also allusion to abuse. Tell me if I missed anything else!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

It began soon after the Mechanisms had rid themselves of their creator. They were writing songs together and had decided they would need to introduce themselves through one, since a singing introduction would be the only good introduction possible.

If you wanted a song, you had to write your own one and soon they’d come together to share the lyrics and brainstorm over melodies. They’d already squabbled over Tims song, since it would be a long one and Jonny had found that unfair. Both he and Tim had been shot by Ashes and Tim got to keep his song.

Now they were squabbling again over Jonnys song. Tim said: “You have to tell at least some version of the truth, Jonny. I don’t care if it fits with your aesthetic, you can’t lie about where you came from.”

“Who said I wasn’t from New Texas?” Jonny exclaimed indignantly, his normal manic smile at any sort of conflict fading.

“I did.” Tim shot back, “You don’t even try to sound like you’re from there, at least lie convincingly.”

“What do you mean, I don’t sound like I’m from there?” Jonny yelled angrily.

“I’ve been there, they all have a weird accent, you don’t have it. You sound nothing like them, you’re not from there now stop making shit up.” Tim yelled back, equally angry. He had been honest in his song, he had given it a humorous twist, but he had been honest about Bertie, the least Jonny could do was be honest about the name of his native planet.

Jonny crossed his arms and frowned as he said: “Well, maybe I’ve lost my accent over the years that happens.”

“Bullshit.” Tim told him, he turned to the others and asked: “You don’t believe him do you?”

Most of the others didn’t really care, they were just waiting for one to shoot the other so that they could move on. Nastya was a bit too tired for their fighting today and said: “Well, Jonny didn’t have an accent when I met him.”

That earned her a betrayed glare from Jonny and a victorious smile from Tim, who said: “See, you’re lying. Besides, Nastya still has her accent.”

“Yeah and Nastya is a princess with a big enough vocabulary.” Jonny pouted, nearly inaudible and although Tim couldn’t make out what he had said, he did hear that Jonny had said something, so he demanded: “What did you say?”

“I said nothing.” Jonny spit back.

“No, I heard you say something. If you have something to say, say it.” Tim told him.

Jonny roared back: “I said it was none of your fucking business.”

Tim took an unconscious step back at the sudden anger, but he also wasn’t about to let Jonny walk all over him, so he just yelled: “Well, you should know that is rude to whisper in company, if you aren’t going to share it with the group, you shouldn’t say it at all.”

That earned him some looks from the other Mechanisms, he himself didn’t know where it came from either, having forgotten his mother a long time ago, but Jonny was too angry to care and repeated himself loudly: “I said: Yeah and Nastya is a princess with a big enough vocabulary.”

His chest heaved and on his face was a snarl as the whole crew fell silent after his outburst.

A guilty feeling started to grow in Tims gut when he’d put enough pieces together to figure out, who’s fault it had probably been that Jonny didn’t have an accent anymore. He wanted to say something, maybe even apologize despite being notorious for not doing that, when Jonny said: “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

It was obviously self-defense that made him dismiss the entire thing. He said something about needing a smoke, before walking out the practice area with more haste than necessary.

“I fucked up.” Tim said slowly after a minute of tense silence had passed.

The others agreed. Nastya commented: “Yes, quite, I’ve almost never seen him that upset over almost anything.”

Nastya could remember the last time she’d seen him like that, it was soon after, well soon after the airlock incident. They’d gone into the old chambers of the former captain and found a newspaper clipping of the mysterious disappearance of one Jonathan Vangelis. She hadn’t seen him for a month.

“Maybe we should go check up on him?” Brian suggested, currently nice.

“I’ll go.” Tim said, he needed to make things right. He was a bastard and he was far from nice, but he wasn’t that kind of asshole.

He rushed after Jonny, hoping to stop him before he could reach his room and lock himself in there with enough ammunition and booze to last a mortal lifetime.

Tim arrived at Jonnys room with the door already locked. He could hear labored breathing and even small sobs coming from the other side of the door, the sound came from below, so Tim assumed Jonny was sitting on the ground and leaning against the door.

Swallowing Tim deliberated on how to proceed. Jonny was in a fragile state now, a state Tim wasn’t used to dealing with, so he’d had to be careful to not agitate or upset him further.

After a moment he knelt down and gently said: “Jonny? It’s Tim. I, uh, I came to check up on you?” he cringed at himself, not really good comfort talk there, Tim, he thought, “I wanted to apologize. For earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed. So I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“‘M fine.” came through, muffled by the door.

“I know, you’re not.” Tim said. On one hand it might seem like he was pushing more, but on the other it wouldn’t do for Jonny to ignore this and be upset alone.

“You don’t get to decide that.” Jonny told him.

“I could hear you crying, Jonny.” Tim replied, “You don’t have to tell me why it made you so upset, but you don’t have to pretend not to be.”

“It’s stupid anyway.” Jonny said.

“Why is it stupid?” Tim asked him, glad to have a conversation at least.

“Well, it’s just an accent, nothing upsetting or anything.” Jonny answered.

“But it did make you upset, so there’s obviously more to the story.” Tim pushed, god he was sounding like Brian.

“It’s not like it’s important, just forget it.” Jonny told him.

Tim resolved that he would make Jonny talk about this, it wasn’t healthy to keep things like that bottled up (and now he was sounding like Marius, god what it day this had become). So he sat down and said: “I’m not leaving until you’re feeling better.”

“Fine, then I feel better, now leave.” Jonny sounded annoyed.

“I don’t think you are.” Tim replied.

“What do you want from me?” there was still a bite in Jonnys voice, but he also sounded relieved.

Tim thought about that for a moment, then he slowly said: “Maybe you can talk to me? Tell me what’s bothering you so I won’t accidentally bring it up again? Or just talk about nothing until you feel better? I am really sorry and I’d like to make it up to you, please?”

It was quiet for a moment, then softly the door unlocked. Tim stood up and waited until the door slid open. The makeup on Jonnys face was streaked down his cheeks and he looked miserable. He looked Tim up and down and asked: “Promise not to tell the others?”

“I promise.” Tim concurred.

“I really am from New Texas.” Jonny told him, “Had a heavy accent and everything, but, uhm, she-” he didn’t have to put emphasis on it for Tim to know who, “she thought it sounded uneducated.”

“I’m so sorry, Jonny.” Tim said, stepping forwards to pull him into a hug.

Jonny just clutched at him and started crying again. The tears soaked Tims into shirt and the makeup smudged leaving dark stains, but he didn’t let go. After a while Jonny hiccuped through the sobs: “I- I don’t even- even know, why- why I’m so- so upset about i- it.” he swallowed heavily and went on: “I’m not- I’m not even in the- the mood to sho- shoot my own brain- brains out. I just- I just want some p- peace, to- to forget.”

Tim rubbed Jonnys back and murmured into the top of his head: “It’s alright, it’s sometimes the little things are the ones that hurt the most.”

He knew that Jonny could joke about a lot of traumatic things, everyone on the Aurora could, but sometimes there were little things that just were too much. Tim himself could joke about war and blowing up the moon and everything, but he could not joke about Monopoly, which had been Berties favorite game.

When Jonny had calmed himself a bit he untangled himself from Tims arms and rubbed his eyes aggressively. He looked like a raccoon with the black marks all around his eyes, a tired and angry raccoon. He pointed at Tim and said: “If you break your promise, I swear that I will leave on an asteroid.”

“I won’t.” Tim promised again, raising his hands. He knew that with the conversation they’d had before he went looking for Jonny, none would dare to bring it up again.

“Good.” Jonny shot him a suspicious glare, but seemed to believe him.

“Jonny.” Tim called out when Jonny had started to walk away to clean his face and redo his makeup.

Jonny turned around and raised a questioning brow. Tim said: “For what it’s worth, I think you sound just fine no matter what, you have a perfectly good vocabulary.”

Tim thought it would earn him a bullet in the brain, but Jonny actually smiled at him, before schooling his features and hurrying away down the hall.

When Tim returned to the practice area the others were still there strumming familiar tunes of songs already written. They stopped when he entered and Nastya asked: “Is he okay? What happened?”

“I think he’s fine now.” Tim answered her, “I don’t know if he’ll return today, but he probably will be here tomorrow.”

“Are we keeping his song?” Ashes asked, getting to the point.

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with it.” Tim replied.

“Good.” Brian said, picking up his drumsticks again.

In the end Jonny did join them again that day. He was a bit more subdued than normal, but he had enough opinions and quips for the others not to worry. Most of them never did figure out the full story behind Jonnys outburst, but Tim did smile when he heard Jonny use ‘All y’alls’ a few years later.

[janeyseymour]

Escape- pt 17

pt 1. pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6. pt 7. pt 8. pt 9. pt 10. pt 11. pt 12. pt 13. pt 14. pt 15. pt 16.

Jane Seymour has stayed with Henry for long enough. Cue Catherine of Aragon and the rest of the girls to save her.

There's a new arrival in the family. But nothing is ever easy.

“Uh Cath?” Kat popped her head into the living room.

“Hm?” She didn’t look up from her book.

“Do you have that hospital bag ready for Jane?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Baby’s coming,” she replied casually.

“Uh, how do you know?” Catherine set down from her book.

“We were watching a movie in your room, and her water broke.”

“Hey Lina.” Jane entered the room with a laundry basket full of the sheets from the bed she had already stripped.

“Uh Jane? Kat just told me your water broke?”

“Oh yeah. I already stripped the bed and put new sheets on. Just let me go throw these in the wash real quick.”

“You’re going into labor, and you’re cleaning the house?” Aragon had started to get frazzled.

“I tried to stop her Cath. She wouldn’t hear it.”

“Janey, honey, don’t you think we should start heading for the hospital?”

“I’ve read some of those parenting books, and labor can sometimes last days, especially with your first born. I want to stay in the hospital as long as possible after he comes.”

“It’s a she, and we should go. Come on.”

“Lina dear, I love you, but it’s going to be okay. I’m going to go put these things in the wash and then rest for a bit. We can take it from there.” She leaned up to where Catherine was now standing, grabbed her shirt, and pulled her into a kiss. The blonde sauntered away.

“She’s weirdly calm about all of this,” Kat said when she thought Jane was out of earshot.

“This,” Jane popped her head back into the living room. “Is the least of my worries.”

Hours later, Jane was in active labor. “Jesus Christ Catherine, this fucking hurts! Why don’t you have to go through this fucking shit you asshole!” The contraction began to subside. “I’m so sorry. You know I don’t mean any of it. I love you,” she sighed.

“I know honey.” She wiped some of the tears away. “I really think we should leave now. You’ve put it off long enough, and I think it’s time we go get you checked out.”

“Just five more minutes,” she grunted and looked at the clock: 11:55 pm. “At midnight, we’ll go. I promise.”

“Well, why don’t we start getting you to the car then? By the time we get all the things in the car and-”

“I already put the bags in the car. Anna installed the car seat for you too,” Kat’s voice was getting panicky. She didn’t like seeing Jane in pain. “Come on Jane. I think it’s-”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. Really, we can just stay here.” Her face began to contort. “I’m fine,” she repeated over and over, gradually getting louder and louder, her eyes being clouded with tears.

“Come on,” Catherine began to lift the woman in labor out of the chair.

“Let go of me!” She blurted out. “I’m not going! I can’t do this. I can’t do it.”

Aragon sighed, wishing she could tell her girlfriend she could just give up and stop or that she would take over. It killed the older woman to see the blonde she loved so much in so much pain.

“Baby, I know you’re afraid, and so am I. But you’re doing great.”

“How are you afraid? You don’t have to push a fucking watermelon out of your vagina!” Jane snapped.

Well,” Catherine thought for a second. “I suppose you’re right, but I believe in you. Just think, in hopefully a few short hours-”

“Hours?” Jane screamed in outrage.

“Well, hopefully sooner. But in a few short moments, you’re going to have your beautiful baby girl in your arms.”

“Boy.” Jane gritted her teeth.

“Seymour, if you wait any longer, you might be having me deliver your baby,” Anna laughed. Jane’s face changed from pained to horrified.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.” She allowed both Catherine and Kat to lead her out of the house and to the car, the other three wishing her well from the doorstep.

“Let’s go have a baby.” Catherine kissed the younger woman’s forehead before pulling out of the driveway.

“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” An already exhausted Jane muttered.

“Miss Seymour, you’re just not progressing. You’re still only at three centimeters. The way you’re contracting, you should be well on your way to pushing by now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jane shrieked. Catherine shot the nurse an apologetic look.

“Do you want the epidural?”

“Yeah Jane, why don’t we try the-”

“I don’t need it! I’m not weak!” Jane insisted through tears. “I don’t need it.”

“Are you sure?” The nurse looked at her rather uneasy. “It really will help with the-”

“I said no!” Jane snapped at the nurse. Once again, Catherine gave the nurse an apologetic look.

“I’m not having a c-section if the baby is perfectly healthy, and I am capable of pushing! I don’t care how long it takes my fucking body to- jesus fucking christ,” Jane swore under her breath as a wave of pain hit her.

“Jane, I really think you should cons-”

“Catherine! How many times do I have to say I’m not doing it! I’m progressing anyway! I’m at seven!”

“Are you ready Miss Seymour?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jane?”

The doctor rolled his eyes at her. “Are you ready Jane?” He tried again.

“He’s beautiful Jane. I’m so proud of you.” Catherine kissed the top of Jane’s head.

“Do you have a name?” The nurse smiled at the loving couple.

Jane’s face went from content to horrified. “How did we forget to think of a name?”

“I think I know the name honey.”

“I’m sorry,” Jane sighed to the nurse. “Can we just have a few minutes?”

“Of course. For now, we’ll just call him baby boy Seymour.”

“Baby boy Aragon actually,” Jane interjected, a small smile appearing on her face.

“Really?” Catherine looked at her in wonder.

“I’ll give you two some time.” The nurse smiled and left the room.

“So, what name?” Jane asked casually, as if she didn’t just tell the nurse her baby was to have Catherine’s last name.

“No. Why my last name?”

“Well, I figured we’re probably going to get married at some point and I’m taking your last name, and you’re going to adopt him, so it would just make it easier to have it be Aragon now than have to change it in the-”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“What?”

“What did you just?”

“Marry me. I mean it.” The hispanic dropped down to one knee and pulled out the ring she had been fidgeting with in her pocket for the last few months.

“Yes. Yes, of course I will,” Jane gasped, tears falling down her cheeks. “I love you. I’m sorry for crying. It’s this whole new mom thing.”

“Don’t apologize. There are a lot of things making both of us emotional right now. But uh, the baby’s name,” she trailed off.

“Yeah?” She looked at Catherine with teary eyes.

“Edward John.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did.”

“So, you got engaged... When am I going to be an aunt?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I really want kids, but Henry isn’t so keen on the idea yet.” A face of disappointment glossed over a younger Jane’s face before she smiled again.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But I think I want a little boy: Edward John. I just really love that name.”

“That’s a really nice name.” ‘Edward John Aragon,’ Catherine thought immediately. “Edward John Tudor. No.’ She would never see the name Edward the same.

Then it’s Edward John Aragon,” Jane laughed lightly. “Take your son real fast.” She handed Edward over.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I know you’re exhausted.”

“I am not.” She shifted slightly in the bed. “Just sit with me.”

“That’s a small bed. We won’t both be able to fit.”

“Just wait.” She slowly got out of the hospital bed.

“Jane Seymour!” Catherine all but yelled.

“Eat a dick and sit down. I’ll lay on you.”

“You’re quite the woman.” Catherine’s phone dinged. “The grandparents are here, and so are the girls.”

“Tell the grandparents to come in. We’ll see the girls after.”

“Honey, are you sure? You should really get some rest.”

“After I see everyone, okay?” She stifled a yawn.

“Janey,” Catalina began to protest.

“Not. Now. Lina.” She paused in between each word.

“Okay,” she backed down and told their parents to come in. “Wait, I forgot something. Give me your hand.” She slipped the ring onto Jane’s finger.

“I love you.” Jane kissed her chin.

“Where’s the baby?” Margaret ran in.

“Mom, please don’t yell. But he’s right here. Edward John. Eddie.”

“Oh my god! He’s-”

“Marge, I can’t get all of this shit in here by myself!” John dragged six gift bags in.

“John Seymour, watch it!” She snapped before turning her attention back to the baby. “Oh, he’s so handsome. Looks just like you.”

“Here.” Jane handed her son off.

“Eddie, I’m Nana,” she whispered. “I’m going to spoil you like crazy when you come home.” Jane’s face fell. The couple was thinking of staying near the other girls once things settled down.

“Catalina! Where is he? Where is this beautiful baby boy?” Catherine’s mother Isabella half-whispered.

“Right here,” Catherine didn’t take her eyes off of her fiancee.

“Bella! I got him. Oh, he’s so handsome.

Ferdinand, or Fred, walked in to admire the baby but stayed silent.

While the two older women fussed over the new baby, John greeted his daughter, having finally gotten all the presents into the room.

“Hey Janey honey. He’s beautiful- just like you.” A tear fell down his face.

“Don’t cry Dad.”

“I’m just really proud of you. I’m proud of you too Cath.” John reached over and patted Catherine. “Did she break your hand during labor?”

“She’s going to say I didn’t, but I ‘m pretty sure I felt some bones shift.” Jane looked up at her fiancee. “I’m sorry.”

“Did anything else-” John caught the engagement ring on his daughter’s finger from the corner of his eye. “Nevermind.”

“I’m just so happy he’s out. Being fat sucks.”

“You’re not fat. Come on now.” Catherine kissed her temple.

“Mhm,” she sighed. “I’m heavier than I’ve ever-”

“Because you carried a baby. Your body did the most amazing thing. Mom said the same thing,” John interjected. “I’m going to attempt to get Mom and Bella to let me hold him. The name?”

“Edward John.” Jane smiled. “After you.”

“Rest up now, okay?”

“Okay Daddy.”

“Cath, we have a few things to discuss later.” John gave her a pointed look before breaking into a smile.

“Yes sir.”

After a few minutes, the grandparents left with promises that they would be over to the house as soon as possible.

“Are the girls still here?”

“The other girls went down to get some food, but I’m here,” Kat stood in the doorway awkwardly.

“Oh Kat dear!” Jane smiled warmly. “Come meet him .”

“It’s a boy?” Kat’s eyes went wide. She really should’ve bet with Jane.

“Yes love. Come meet him.” Kat hesitantly stood by Jane’s bedside.

“He’s beautiful Jane.” Kat admired the baby.

“Would you like to hold him?”

“I- I couldn’t,” the pink haired woman stuttered. She was stunned that her friend trusted her to hold the light of her life.

“Do you not want to?”

“No I do!” She rushed out. “I just don’t know how, and newborn babies kind of scare me.” Jane patted the area on the bed next to her. Kat sat down quickly.

“Now, just put your arms how mine look,” Jane instructed. “When I hand him over, make sure you hold his head up. He can’t do that himself yet.” Kat did as she was told, and Jane gently passed her son over.

“Wow,” Kat gushed. “Hi little guy,” she whispered. “I’m Kitty. I’m going to be the best-”

“Big sister,” Jane interjected lovingly.

“I’m what?” Kat’s eyes practically bulged out of her head.

“You already told me you think of me as a mother figure, and I’m more than okay with that. So, you’re going to be like his big sister, if that’s alright with you.” A single tear fell down Kat’s face. “Honey, if you’d rather be an aunt-”

“No no. I’d be honored.” Kat couldn’t wipe the grin off her face before handing Eddie back to Jane.

“Where’s my goddaughter?” Anne came running into the room, Anna and Cathy not far behind.

“It’s a boy Anne.” Catherine rolled her eyes. “And no one told you you were the godmother.”

“What the-”

“That sentence better be finished with a heck Anne,” Anna looked up. “Listen, I may have the mouth of a sailor, but I know when it’s the time and the place. The time and the place is not now or here.”

“Thank you Anna.”

“No problem Seymour. Now hand over that beautiful baby boy.”

“Me first!” Boleyn whined. Anna backed off and allowed the woman in green to hold him first.

Each of the girls was able to hold Eddie and gush over him, claiming they were going to be ‘the best aunt’. Kat held back.

“Kat, do you not want to hold him again?”

“Again?” Anne whisper-yelled. “Are you telling me I wasn’t the first to hold him? What is this shit?”

“I would love to.” This time, Kat easily held the small child close to her. He opened his eyes and stared at her.

“And he looks at her first too? What the hell?” Anne continued to whine.

“He’s just admiring his big sister is all,” Jane slipped in.

“Woah. What?”

“Jane told me I could be like his big sister. Sucks to be anyone but me! I have the most amazing baby brother.” Kat stuck her tongue out towards the others before turning her attention back to Edward. “You are so loved already.”

Once all introductions were made, Catherine shooed the other queens out of the room. Katherine was the last to leave.

“I just wanted to say,” Kat’s tone was full of love. “You two are going to be the best moms ever.”

“Thank you Kat,” Aragon said fondly.

“Thank you love, but we aren’t going to be able to do it without the help from the big sister.” Jane winked. “Come here real quick.” Kat made her way across the room and over to Jane.

“I really have to go. The others are waiting, and Anne’s already pissed I was the first in the room and the last out.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and thank you for being by my side through all of this.”

“I love you too,” the pink haired woman paused. “Mom.” Jane beckoned for Kat to come close. She kissed the top of her head as Kat looked down at the little bundle of joy in the blonde’s arms. Unbeknownst to the two women at the moment, Catherine snapped a photo of her found family on her phone. Posting it to her social media, she smiled.

The light of my life with the two lights of her life. Congratulations Janey. Thank goodness she had already blocked Henry and Thomas from viewing her page.

“Catherine?” Jane’s voice was panicked. “Catherine, wake up!”

“What?” she mumbled from the chair she had settled in for the night.

“I don’t feel all that great.”

“Love, you were in labor for three nights. I’m sure you’re exhausted. Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Lina, I don’t know, but this feels different. This pain is different than the other pains. I’m really cold, and it’s getting hard to breathe.” Catherine stood up and put a hand on Jane’s forehead.

“I’m getting a nurse.” Catherine walked out of the room for a few minutes, and when she came back with a nurse, Jane was gasping for air.

“Miss Seymour? Miss Seymour!” The nurse yelled when Jane fainted. “Doctor!”

Aragon was pushed out of the room as multiple doctors began to surround her future wife.

Nothing was ever easy.

[destielstuffandthings]

Back Together Again

Destiel prompt: Dean goes out to a bar or maybe goes out on a case and gets practically beaten to a pulp cuz he got ganged up on. Dean gets home and Cas sees his injuries and gets super protective and pissed. Up to you whether Cas goes out to smite those who hurt Dean or chooses to tend to Dean's injuries. Congrats on 2600 followers! Love your blog 💜💜

Warnings: None? I mean, Dean get’s wrecked and there’s a healthy dose of angst with some kissing at the end

The fifth shot of whiskey burns just a bit less than the fourth one did. At least Dean thinks it’s the fifth. He can’t really remember.

He can’t get Sam’s stupid “I’m worried about you, please just stay home and talk about this” face out of his head, but the alcohol is starting to blur it a little. He can’t stay cooped up in that fucking bunker anymore or he’s going to lose his mind. It’s been weeks since Castiel left, not that that had anything to do with Dean’s bad mood and alcohol intake. No. What did make it worse was watching that stupid, somehow always clean, trench coat wrapped around his best friend walk up the bunker stairs and to God knows where. Wait, yeah. That’s what what bugging him, actually.

No calls, no texts, nothing. And it was starting to weigh on him. Sure, they’d gone this long without talking before, but that’s because one or the was dead at the time. It’s not like they chose not to talk to each other, there just isn’t great cell reception in Purgatory.

But Cas chose this time. He chose to walk away from Dean. And that just really fucking sucked.

Dean signaled the bartender, a really hot bartender that he hadn’t been paying any attention to like he usually would be.

“Need another.” He pushed the shot glass forward with his pointer finger before resting his head in his other hand.

“Sure hope you ain’t drivin’ sweetheart,” the bartender purred as she filled his glass. “Might wanna think about switchin’ to beer.”

“M’good,” he waved his hand in an impatient attempt to get his drink quicker. She sighed and nudged it forwards before walking away. He watched as a drop slid down the glass and melted into the napkin beneath it.

A loud snap caught his attention from across the room.

“You fuckin’ kidding me, man? That’s bullshit! I ain’t payin’ you!” A long greasy haired man stood there with a broken pool cue in his hands. “You fuckin’ hustler---” Greasy hair charged at the other man and before Dean knew what he was doing he was standing between them.

“Alrigh’ guys, let’s take it down a notch. No need to disturb this fine establishment with your cat fight.” Dean held his hands out to the men and put on his best Dean smile, which right now kinda came off as a weird smirk.

“Get the fuck outta my way, man. This isn’t ain’t your fight,” non greasy hair guy yelled.

Dean licked his lip and smiled. “Nope, it sure as hell isn’t, but I’m sittin’ my ass over there trying to enjoy my drink and I can’t seem to do that with you idiot assholes bitching like teenagers.” He clapped his hands together and motioned to both the men. “So, how about you pay up. Not his fault you can’t pick a hustler out of a lineup.”

A shotgun cocking made everyone freeze.

“How about all of you mother fuckers get the hell on outta here before I use this on all your asses?” The bartender stood behind them with the gun in one hand and the other on her hip. Dean snickered at how easy it would be to disarm her but hey, she was just doing her job so he let it slide.

He raised his hands in defense. “Alright honey, I get it. Just tryin’ to help.”

She cocked an eyebrow and glanced to her gun. “Does it look like I need your fuckin’ help? You three,” she waved her finger a the three men. “Out. Now.”

Dean rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet. He slapped a few twenties on the bar before heading towards the exit. Once the damp night air hit his face he realized just how drunk he really was. He fumbled with his eyes trying to unlock the Impala. He had every intention of sleeping it off in the bar parking lot when he heard footsteps coming up behind him.

“Hey asshole!”

Dean turned to see greasy hair guy and a few of his friends behind him.

“You should learn to mind your own fucking business,” he yelled.

Dean shook his head. “You should learn to spot a hustle. Not my fault you’re dumb as shi-----”

That’s the last thing Dean really remembers from that night. There are glimpses and flashes in his throbbing head.

Punches crushing the bones in his face. The air being kicked out of his lungs. Something hard and cold smashing his fingers against the wet asphalt of the parking lot.

He had no clue where he was or how he got there, but this definitely wasn’t his bed. It didn’t feel or smell like his room in the bunker. He tried to sit up but someones hand pushed him back down.

“Sammy?” His voice was hoarse and broken. His jaw ached and he’s pretty sure one of his molars was missing. Swallowing hard, he pried one of his eyes open immediately shielding it from the light. “Where’m I?”

Someone sighed next to him as he felt something warm touch his head before he passed out.

~*~*~*~*~

The next time Dean woke up was much easier. The pain in his face was gone and his lungs didn’t crackle every time he took a breath. He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers snagged on something sticky and hard.

“What the fuck,” he whispered as he pulled his hand away. His fingertips were red and covered in dried blood.

“I apologize, I hadn’t had the chance to wash it our of your hair yet.”

Dean turned his had over his shoulder towards the voice he’d know anywhere. He’d heard it in hell. He’d heard it in his dreams every night. He’d hear it long after he was actually dead and gone from this world.

“Cas?” His eyes widened as he swung his legs over the bed.

“Don’t get up,” Castiel warned.

Dean rushed out as he stood and walked towards the tired looking angel. He stopped in his tracks when he realized he wasn’t wearing any pants, just a pair of boxers that also weren’t his. He looked down at his bare legs and then back to his friend. “Uh, Cas?”

The angel pulled his eyebrows together and looked at the ground. “I needed to remove your pants to tend to your wounds. You leg was broken in three places.”

“Well, shit,” Dean breathed out. He sat back on the bed and ran both hands over his face, feeling more than a days worth of stubble. “Shit, wait. Sam. I gotta call him and---”

“He knows you’re here,” Castiel said smoothly as he walked over to a bowl of water. He rang a washcloth out in it and walked over to the bed. “I called him as soon as I got you back here.”

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” Dean asked, watching as his friend raised the cloth to his forehead.

“It’s my,” he cleared his throat nervously, “this is where I live now. Jody is letting me stay here.” He wiped gently at Dean’s hairline, pointedly ignoring Dean’s gaze.

“Oh,” was all Dean said. “How uh---How’d you know where I was? How’d you even get to me?”

Castiel folded in the red corner of the cloth and worked a clean section deeper into his hair. His forehead creased and glanced at Dean. “You were calling out for me. I think you were mostly unconscious, but I could hear your praying. For me.”

Dean looked down at his lap and picked at something invisible on the blanket draped across his lap. “I don’t remember---”

“They almost killed you Dean, I’m not surprised,” he said quickly and set the washcloth aside. “I wasn’t quite finished healing your head wound before you woke up. Do you mind?” He raised his hand to Deans forehead with a questioning look.

“Knock yourself out,” Dean shrugged. He watched his friends eyes close as a bright light manifested above his head. His scalp tingled and he felt his skin pulling together. He sighed when Castiel pulled away. “Thanks,” he mumbled, running his fingers over the now healed wound. “Of course, Dean.” The angel stood and crossed the room to deposit the cloth in a hamper and rinsed his hands off in the sink. “I hope you’ll be more careful in the future. I won’t---” Castiel gripped the edge of the sink hard. “I’m not around to look out for you, or your brother, anymore.”

Dean’s heart felt like it was smashed with a sledgehammer. He watched his friends expression fall and his knuckles turn white against the porcelain sink. He stood quickly, fuck pants, and walked over to the angel. Without thinking, he pulled Castiel’s hand away and held it in his own.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, his voice betraying him as it broke. “Come home.”

Castiel didn’t say anything for what felt like years. He stared down at his hand is Dean’s and shook his head. “You know I can’t.”

“Why?” He gripped Cas’ hand tighter.

“You know why. As you once said about yourself Dean, I’m poison.”

Dean sucked in a breath and yanked Castiel towards his chest. His free hand gripped the back of the angels neck tightly and glared into his eyes. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again,” he hissed.

The angel pulled back enough to look Dean in the eyes. He pinched his eyes shut and raised a hand to Dean’s chest, feeling his heart pound in his chest.

“Dean,” he sighed heavily. “I left for a reason. You---you don’t want me anymore. I only make things harder for you, I can’t keep making things worse, so I need to stay away.”

Dean’s throat tightened as tears pricked behind his eyes.

“I don’t want you anymore? I don’t WANT you anymore?” Dean tightened the grip on Castiel’s neck and pulled him forward.

The kiss was a blur of lips and teeth. Dean registered the smooth feeling of Cas’ tongue tenderly moving against and vowed to feel this again every day for the rest of his life. His fingers ran through the thick hair at the base of Castiel’s neck and pulled him even closer as he rocked into him.

“Always wanted you, Cas,” he whispered between kisses. “Always. Please. Please come home.”

Castiel sighed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, his hands running up his back. “I missed you,” he whispered against Dean’s mouth.

Dean smiled and kissed the angels lips tenderly before pulling away. “Missed you too, Cas.” He kissed his lips once more before running his fingertips over Cas’ cheekbone. “C’mon, let’s go home.”

[jewpacabruhs]

hi guys! so this post is gonna be a rambly mess but fuck it, here ya go. if u dont wanna read all of it, u dont have to; skip down to underneath the tl;dr in bold text for the important bits :)

(there’s a brief & non-graphic mention of a triggering topic in the next paragraph. please be sure to skip this next paragraph if the thought of suicide is going to upset you.)

alright. so i didn't share this originally, but i spent some time in a psychiatric unit this month. suicidality related. 1000% unrelated from anything online, i've just struggled with depression for a very long time & shit happens. i didn't intend to share that at all & i certainly don't want pity; i'm telling u guys bc my time in the unit was extremely eye-opening, and i have some insight to share. since i've gotten out, with the help of my newest anti-depressant (fourth time’s a charm lol), i'm seeing the world in a better light & i finally have the energy to and the interest in exploring what it has to offer, which frankly i've never had before.

with that has come the realization that i’ve come to do something very unhealthy, and i want to break out of it. and that’s how much i’ve come to rely on my fandom life. i don’t want to get too candid publicly, but mental illness took a lot from me, and i lost most of my life, my future, and my options in the last few years. next year will involve a lot of working on rebuilding things. but in the time that i let things fall to pieces around me & i absolutely couldn’t get out of bed, i had a phone and i had a laptop. so when i couldn’t get up and physically face the world, i built up a new world online.

and i don’t think that’s a completely uncommon experience. most people are able to better manage things, and evenly juggle real life with an internet life (like i did back in middle school), because most people can’t abandon their real lives entirely like i managed to; but i do think a lot of people nowadays rely on their fandom life and their fandom friends when their irl situation isn’t ideal. and that’s an excellent coping mechanism in theory, but i think it’s debilitating in the long run.

forgive me for sounding like an old person, but i’m a heavy nostalgist and a bit of an anarcho-primitivist in that i resent modern technology's influence on society - but that hasn't stopped me from letting it be a big part of my life out of accessibility. the internet kept me occupied during my low points, and i became dependent, but i've realized i don't wanna live like that anymore. i’m vaguely grateful that it usually kept me busy enough that i wasn’t thinking the bad thoughts as frequently, but more than anything, i’m resentful that my grasp on reality got lost somewhere along the way, and i let time get away from me, too. because, again, an internet life should be a fun hobby, but when it’s a lifestyle and it becomes an excuse to avoid dealing with our real lives, bc our real lives aren’t as rewarding or as exciting, then it’s unhealthy.

everything’s at our fingertips these days, but i deeply believe human interaction, fun, and fulfillment shouldn't be spoon-fed to us through a screen. it's easy access, sure, but at the end of the day, is it any way to live? compared with how much world there is to see, i’m no longer satisfied with the thought of sitting behind a screen for another five years. i used to be, when i had no hope and no drive, but not anymore. i’m not gonna let myself settle for staying busy with the thing that takes the least amount of work & movement. not only because i’m a whole ass adult who needs to start sorting my shit out for the long run, but also because i deserve better.

and it’s fucking hard! especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. i dropped out of school three fucking times due to crippling social anxiety and utter lack of ambition and energy. i lost all my friends through that (making friends post-school is hard af); the thought of having to go out and remake friends makes me wanna fucking cry. i have a hard enough time making friends online, i’ve even come to struggle with correspondence thru text & email. phone calls? outta the question. but that’s therapy shit, and i know i’ll get there. i just have to stop putting life off by staying in a comfort zone.

and it’s interesting; depression and anxiety really took everything from me, and while i was dwelling in my own misery, my adhd worsened and decided to make my entire brain revolve around my fixations, so i didn’t have to deal with my own life. can’t think about how much you wanna die and how much you can’t function in society if you’re busy thinking about a ship you like or a character you find interesting. so i latched onto the safety of that. aggressively. problem with that is that once you let your “happiness” (as much of it as you can feel in the midst of your depressive episode, anyway) revolve around an interest, that’s all you have. so you become dependent and reliant, and that’s never good, especially if you’re someone like me who feels pathetic & ridiculous when you realize it’s all you can bring yourself to care about. 

and i think that’s what i realized in the psych ward (where there’s legitimately nothing to do; i did soooo much more thinking than usual, and i already think too much haha); mental illness will try to fuck up your lifestyle, so you have to eradicate the things that’ll let that happen in the first place. for example, like i said, my adhd tries to counteract my depression by making me hyperfixate and/or hyperfocus on something else to protect me from bad personal thoughts, and that’s good in theory (doing something you enjoy when you feel bad, to distract urself, is the number one most basic coping skill you learn), but i can’t do it in moderation, i let it run my life, and that’s made me worse in the long run. so i have to force myself out of that completely and not let myself fixate on things that make me happy in the short term, but don’t ultimately further me as a person. having fixations helped me through some awful times, but now i need to force myself to grow up, you know?

and while tumblr and other social media is an excellent way to indulge those fixations, it’s an aggressive enabler, in more ways than one. what i mean by that... okay, so while i’m the type of person who self-destructs while unhealthy, i do occasionally lash out. and i know some people completely explode rather than implode when they’re not doing well. and that’s how you get discourse, i think. because when mental illness makes us care much more about our interests than we ought to, and someone has a differing opinion about that interest, the instinct is of course to attack, if you’re that kind of person. i don’t think i am, but depression and boredom go hand in hand, and i might be inclined to care more about discourse than i would if i were healthy, purely because it’s entertaining and something to do. 

that’s a long winded way of saying, while i stand wholeheartedly by my past positions, i do regret starting shit in the first place. i’m not the kind of person who genuinely cares about much and i have little to no sense of morality (im a chaotic neutral bastard), so the fact i was bored enough to start shit really goes against my character and says a lot about how bad i’ve been. so i apologize for all that. but, again, i think that's just what happens when something is truly your everything. and i think the chronic negativity of modern fandom is a result of how damn seriously we all take it, because we care so much and we’re so dependent. fandom’s supposed to be fun, but it’s just too damn stressful this way.

idk my point in sharing all this, but i do think it'd be cool if this kinda got yall thinking. even if you don't engage in discourse, if fandom is just one of your only consistent sources of happiness, that's not healthy either. we all gotta break out & exist more & louder & more positively. and unfortunately i think tumblr fandom (and maybe all modern fandom) is no longer a place that encourages positivity and health.

but for all my criticism, i do just wanna say how eternally grateful i am that i was fortunate enough to meet the people i call my best friends through tumblr. they're my family, truly, and all the bullshit in this fandom has been worth it simply because it brought them to me. i love them to death and i always will, even if interests change, even if we grow apart, even if we quit speaking entirely in the next few years, i love them with my whole heart in a way that transcends a simple fandom friendship and i'm so glad we bonded over sp in the first place. that’ll never change.

i will also always love south park itself. now that the cat's outta the bag about my hospital visit, i can brag about my most pathetic and obsessive accomplishment; the fact that i've never let circumstance stop me from watching a new south park as it airs, and i've now watched sp on 1) an airplane, and 2) in a psych ward. i win for most dedicated fan tbfh. dsjkf & i'll keep that tradition, and i'll still watch this stupid show til it ends! it'll always hold a special place in my heart, & kyman's still my most meaningful & long-term ship. i'll never stop loving it. 

tl;dr

so, to recap; for 2020 i'm making myself step back from fandom (not just sp fandom, but fandom in general) and quit letting my world revolve around my fixations so i can enjoy the outside world a little more, mental illness be damned, and the first step is gonna be quitting tumblr. this blog won't be deleted and i may occasionally post (maybe when next season airs) but you're absolutely free to unfollow bc this'll be a mostly inactive blog. i’m also unfollowing everyone, so mutuals, please don’t take that personally. 

i will, however, try to write more prolifically, bc fic writing is something i'm able to do in moderation & enjoy, and i hope to get back into it. so if you'd like, you can keep an eye out for any upcoming fanfic i may post - my ao3 is leere. i also have snapchat, instagram, & twitter my mutuals can ask for asap (bc ill be logging out for good by the afternoon of the 31st, which is tomorrow) - though i'm not very active on any of them. still, if you wanna have access to me, i’ll be there.

i want some connection to the fandom still, albeit without letting my life revolve around it, so i'll be starting a new open-to-the-public kyman discord server! the post with the invite for that will go up soon. nvm im too anxious  

thank you for reading, thank you for the good times (thnks fr th mmrs), and i hope everyone has a good 2020! 

[fandom-necromancer]

092 - continuation

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

‘Just what on earth do you think you are doing, Reed?!’ Gavin had exactly twenty minutes of peace after entering the precinct the next day. Then Hank had stormed over like a rabid dog, beating his hands down on the desk and staring at him with a fury hot enough to melt steel. ‘I’m drinking my coffee.’ Gavin kept his outer appearance of being unphased by the angry lieutenant. His mind felt numb ever since he read that messages in the parking lot yesterday. He hated this feeling. It was far easier to be angry, to feel awful, to lash out or to regret. This numbness was rare for Gavin, who had always felt strong emotions and didn’t hide them like all the others – but not unfamiliar. No, he knew this numbness like a brother. It was a sign of him having phcked up again.

‘What the hell did you do to him?’ ‘Cut it down, daddy overprotective. I have not a clue what you are talking about.’ ‘Oh, you don’t?’ Hank lifted his body out of Gavin’s personal space to walk over to the adjacent desk and lean on the chair. RK900’s chair. RK900’s empty chair. ‘I thought you were a detective. Spot the phcking difference in the room!’ ‘I can see officer Person is slacking off again.’ Gavin refused to let the man pull him out of his cloud of indifference. He didn’t know what would happen would he switch on his emotions again. ‘You can see-‘ Hank turned around to look at the man playing on his phone, only visible due to RK900’s vacant desk, because….

Because Nines was gone. Gavin had managed to burn through another partner and was sure to never get one assigned again. He should be happy about this. Why was he not happy about being alone again?

‘Okay you fucking asshole, I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for Nines, just so you know. But you better get up, follow me outside and take a smoke break. Because I would rather not discuss this in public unless you force me to.’ ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Hank grabbed him by the coat-tail and hissed: ‘You are taking a smoke break right now, or I’ll beat you up here and now in front of everyone and pull your unconscious body outside. I don’t care.’ Gavin looked at the Lieutenant, maybe for the first time really seeing the other since this conversation started. It had been long since he last saw the man this angry. It had been shortly after Anderson’s child died, and he drunkenly had started a fight with some criminal in the interrogation room. But he was sober now. He was simply angry as fuck. Knowing in what condition the perp had ended up, Gavin rose from his desk and followed the Lieutenant outside.

It took him by surprise that the man shoved him against a wall as soon as the door fell shut. ‘You are an asshole Reed. A fucking asshole. It would need a new word to describe just how much of an asshole you are.’ ‘Okay, cut the bullshit, I know what I am. Just tell me what I did wrong apparently.’ ‘Apparently? Apparently? I tell you what you did: You let a newly deviated android lose faith!’ Gavin didn’t want to laugh at that but couldn’t stop it. ‘Hank. It’s just. A phcking. Machine! I know you project all kinda stuff into them, but it is a robot. Wiring and programs. They cannot have faith.’ ‘Do you really think that Reed? Do you really think that after working with Nines? God, did you even know him? Are you that blind?’ ‘Enlighten me, smartass.’

‘He chose to be your partner, you know that?’ ‘Yeah I know!’, Gavin punched back hoping to mask the fact he had learned it only yesterday. ‘You know. And do you know why?’ Gavin stayed silent, causing Hank to shake him and shove him against the wall again. ‘Do you know why?’ ‘No. Why should I?’ ‘Because he wanted to!’, Hank ignored his question. ‘Because he was fascinated from what he read about you!’ Again Gavin stayed quiet in defeat, letting the Lieutenant explain. Maybe somewhere inside he did care or at least was interested in why anyone would deem him anything else but a failure, let alone fascinating. ‘Markus contacted us as Jericho raided the Cyberlife tower in search for any androids left in their shipping halls. What they didn’t expect was a second Connor – a prototype of a RK900 series. They should have become soldiers or police officers for the more gun-heavy occasions. Basically, a walking, talking shield for humans. And a central piece in Amanda’s plan taking over the revolution.’ ‘Why are you telling me this, Hank, it’s not like-‘ ‘Will you shut up already! Markus contacted me about the unit, and I took him in. Connor thinks of him as a brother and he is family. But he was restless. He wasn’t able to just live idling in our home. If he was sitting on the couch watching TV, even I could see his stress levels rising. Once, he petted Sumo and started overheating, desperately asking for a task. I jokingly told him to count the dog’s hairs and in the middle of the night he came into the bedroom with an actual number! He was clearly searching for a purpose, for something to occupy him and keep him from dying of boredom. He asked what we were working on. As he learned of Detective work, he was immediately caught on the idea. But he didn’t feel it was right to simply waltz in. He did the tests, Reed. He completed the human tests, graduated. Well, he rushed through it in a few months, but out of him and Connor he really deserves the title officially. In all that time he searched for someone his calibre. Someone he could work with and someone he could learn a few things from. Someone he might find his purpose in. It took him longer to find a partner than completing his training at the academy. And who he ended up with is you, Reed. He thought you would be that ideal partner for him. We tried to talk him out of it, expecting something like this to happen. We warned him of you, Gavin. And you know? He defended you. He stood up for you to the point we actually had a fight at home over this. But he stayed stubborn and simply did what he wanted to.’

Hank had calmed down a bit and let go of Gavin’s clothes. ‘He looked up to you, Gavin. He saw something in you – god knows what. You telling him to leave… Can you imagine what that meant to him?’ Gavin had to process all he just heard. He had the explanation, but he still couldn’t understand how out of all police officers in Detroit, hell, out of all humans in Detroit anyone would chose him despite knowing who he was. ‘Why did you chose to hate him, Reed?’ Hank had backed down and Gavin could see this bullshit about family had been the truth. The big drunkard had taken Connor in, yes, but he was concerned about Nines, too. Gavin was averted to the whole family-stuff, maybe because of his own phcked-up past. ‘Is it because he’s an android? Did he do anything to you? Is it just your asshole-attitude or is there any reason he has given you?’

‘Shut up.’ Gavin had been pulled to the edge of his numbness and he knew if he decided to let his emotions run free, he would succumb right there on the sidewalk. Maybe kill Hank afterwards and then find the tin-can and trash it before regretting it afterwards. Not a good future. So, he fought them down again, hoping to maintain the situation until he was home. ‘As if I care for a phcking machine.’ But his tone slipped, the truth seeping out. He felt phcking guilty. Ever since he read these messages. Now that he knew more it amplified it. He felt terrible and over a goddamn android! That made it even worse. ‘I’ll go home. Don’t you phcking touch me ever again!’

He had walked straight through the bullpen and made his way to the door, ignoring anyone who might try talking to him. Mechanically he sat down in the car and looked at his phone, the messages still open. I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations. You were the most interesting, competent and worthwhile option. I don’t know what I did to turn you away. I regret not having the chance to get to know you better. Best of luck. ‘Phck!’ There were the emotions again. Why couldn’t he be happy about the damn robot leaving? It was all he ever wished for since the plastic prick entered the precinct. And now he was close to tears in his car, still standing in the DPD parking lot. It wasn’t because of the android. God, at least he hoped it wasn’t. It was because he managed to phck up again. Just another evidence that Gavin Reed was a human failure and didn’t manage to make anything work. He didn’t deserve anything if all he did was destroy and phck up. He didn’t- Stop. Drive home. Get drunk. Cry your phcking eyes out. Get your shit back together and continue. It had worked until now, it would continue to help. Good plan. No, terrible plan, but the only one there was.

 Half a bottle later Gavin had broken down on the kitchen table, the messages open on his phone and Hank’s words in his ears. Any amount of alcohol would only make them both angrier and louder. Shit, he wanted to get out of this shitty situation. He could push it all down again and forget it, but he didn’t know how to look Hank in the eye ever again. Or he could apologize. What would bring him nothing but embarrassment. But he was drunk enough to forget about that detail as he grabbed the phone.

Hey, tin-csn, O’m sorry. There was a millisecond of the last sober brain cell hesitating, but all others managed to press send.

23:45 >Detective?

‘Phck.’ Why did he do this? Why was he about to do it again? I’m N asshoel.

23:45 >Detective, are you drunk? You never text me.

I’m your ducking partner, I do what O want!

23:46 >Except for Spellchecking apparently. Do you mean it?

Hell, would I txt you if I don’t? I Hank told me.. I... give me another chance, okay?

23:47 >I understand correctly: you want me to come back and be your partner, despite me being a ‘tin-can’ and a ‘phcking machine’?

Yes, you oversized calculator!

23:47 >Understood, Detective. I’ll ask to be transferred back. 23:48 >Please get some rest, this can’t be healthy.

‘Yes, I will~’ Gavin got up, somehow staying on wobbly feet and made for his bedroom, before realising that was far too ambitious and opted for the couch instead.

[uas-fics]

Title: The One That Almost Got Away, But Came Back

Summary:  While fleeing for his life after enraging his ex-friends, Tweek hides in a tree at the church graveyard. When the coast is clear, he tries to climb down, only to fall and hit his head against a headstone. When his vision clears, Tweek sees the transparent face of a kid he knew was dead.

Rating: T

Ships: Twenny

Other: Season Six is one of my favorite seasons, and while thinking about it, I wondered what would have happened if Tweek stayed with Stan and friends a little longer and how it would affect the following episodes. Obviously, the answer is a dumpster fire for Tweek.

~~~~~

Tweak bolted past the iron gate into the graveyard. There had to be a good place to hide from Cartman's wrath here.

He heard someone scream his name as he chose his destination: a large tree near a corner of the yard. Ducking down to crawl on his hands and knees, Tweek hurried behind the headstones.

He muttered apologies to the dead he crawled over. He just barely knew how to handle when the living picked on him. He had no idea how to pacify the dead!

Finally, Tweek came to the tree. He dared a glance over his shoulders.

Cartman stood on the sidewalk, but he hadn't spotted Tweek yet.

Pressing his back to the bark of the tree, he looked up. The branches were low enough he could easily climb up.

Stan and Kyle came shouting up to Cartman. They were mad at Tweek, too, but at least they didn't have an aluminum bat in their hands and murder in their eyes.

Cartman opened the graveyard gate, and Tweek was on his way up the branches.

The branches scraped his arms. On the fourth branch up, his shoe fell from his foot and landed in the snow below. He stifled a squeak of panic.

There was no going back for it now, so Tweek kept climbing.

If he got high enough, they couldn't see him amongst the evergreen needles, thanks to his dark green shirt.

Or that was what he hoped.

Tweek pressed himself against the trunk, taking shallow breaths through his nose.

Cartman walked right under his feet.

“Do you guys see him? Tweek! Tweek, come out!” He bellowed.

Not a chance, man! Tweek thought.

Kyle marched up, hands on his hips. “I told you he went to the right.” Kyle scowled at a nearby grave.

Stan followed Kyle. His hat balled up in his hands.

“Fuck this,” Stan snapped, “and fuck Tweek. All in favor we kick him out and find a better fourth friend?”

Stan raised his hand. Kyle and Cartman followed suit seconds later.

Throwing the bat over his shoulder, Cartman took a deep breath to shout, “Tweek, if you're here, know that you're a fucking bag of dicks and you were a terrible Kenny! You're kicked out! We hate you! Have fun sitting alone at lunch, you twitchy weirdo!

“Yeah!” Stan and Kyle chorused.

Tweak flinched. A lump formed in his throat.

His gut told him being friends with those three would be nothing but trouble, but Tweek had been so desperate for a permanent friend group, he ignored the feeling.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

If Tweek had a time machine, he’d go back before the friend tryouts and punch his past self in the face.

Sitting at any empty seat at lunch was so much better than all the bullshit he went through with those three! He should have left after everything that happened with Spielberg, but no, against his better judgment, he stuck around!

“Come on, you guys. I bet we can talk Cartman's mom into making us some cookies or something.” Stan waved his hand.

“Yeah, I guess.” Kyle's shoulders fell as he followed along.

Cartman screwed up his face into a determined expression. He looked up and down a row of graves then took a few steps towards the tree.

Tweak stiffened. If he looked behind the tree, Cartman would see his shoe and know he was here.

The setting sun glinted off the bat like an executioner's blade.

A step from the tree, Kyle called to Cartman to hurry up. Cartman heaved a sigh before turning around and walking towards his friends with the bat dragging behind him.

Tweak waited nearly twenty minutes before he found the courage to start down the tree.

When he put his weight on the final branch, it snapped out from under him. Thinking fast, he ducked and rolled onto the snow.

His skull struck against hard stone. The world doubled. His head spinning, he sat facing the tree with his hand against the tender lump forming on his head.

When he finally blinked the stars from his vision, he found himself face to face with a boy that Tweek knew was dead.

Kenny tilted his head to the side, eyebrow raised.

“You were falling really well until you hit the ground,” He told him. “Seven out of ten.”

Tweak stared at him, frozen with eyes wide.

Then he screamed.

Tweek tried to scramble back, but he found a wide rectangle of stone stopping him.

His fingers brushed against the letters carved into the stone as he pressed against it: “Kenny McCormick."

“Oh my God. Oh my God...” Tweak gasped. “I'm dead. I sn-snapped my neck when I fell!”

Kenny laughed and shook his head. He floated over Tweek and twisted his body so he laid on his stomach.

“No, you're not dead. You're still in your body. Weird you can see me, though.” He tapped his chin. “Maybe because you smacked against my headstone?”

“You're dead,” Tweak whimpered. “You died in December.”

Kenny nodded. “I am. I did.” He rolled over to look up at the star-flecked sky. “It's not so bad, you know, being dead. Hurts a lot less than when I was alive and sick.”

Tweek’s heart skipped a beat.

That's right. Kenny died because he was sick. He didn't know what Kenny had. It seemed like no one ever talked about how he died, but he overheard Butters say Kenny looked bad in his last days.

“His face is all skinny and pale like a sheet of paper,” Butters had claimed with a frown. “I hope he gets better soon so we can play together again.”

Kenny didn't look skinny now, or no skinnier than he was before he got sick. If not for the ghostly transparency, he would have looked perfectly healthy.

Tweek swallowed hard, standing up and trying to carefully walk around the ghost. “Oh, that's, um, good. I'm glad you're not, urk, hurting anymore.”

Kenny spun back around. “Nope. Ghosts don't feel anything like that, actually. It's weird, but you get used to it.” Resting his cheeks on his knuckles, he asked, “What was with you and my friends, by the way? Cartman looked out for blood. Also, you should go get your shoe. It’s cold outside. Don't want to lose your toes to frostbite.”

Tweek winced, backpedaling a few steps towards the tree to retrieve his shoe. “I, um, I fucked up. They won the drawing at Lolly’s for the all you can grab raffle. I lost the ticket.”

Kenny furrowed his brows. “I think I had the ticket. I put it in my lockbox so it would be safe.”

“Y-yeah, i know. Your sister told me when we went to talk to your mom. She, ah, your mom I mean, showed us your urn and everything.” Tweek still didn't understand why they kept an urn around for Kenny. He clearly had a grave right here. Did his mom want to keep him around that much she pretend they put him in there?

Kenny frowned. “They cremated me?”

Tweek didn't know what that meant.

Kenny looked down at the headstone, confused, then made a sound of understanding. “Ah, ok, ok. I think I get it. Probably. Continue.”

Without asking for an explanation, Tweek went on, “So, we got the ticket, and those idiots handed it to me to hold! Me! I'm the worst person to hand important stuff too!” He threw his hands in the air at the memory.

“Did you rip it?” Kenny asked

“I tripped,” Tweek slumped down, “and dropped it in a puddle. Lolly wouldn't take it since the numbers were smudged, so Cartman started chasing me. He even stole a bat when I ran through the park.”

Kenny sat up with his legs crossed. “A reasonable reaction to me.”

Tweek glared. “It was not! It was an accident! I wanted the candy, too, man!”

Kenny half shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Why were you hanging out with them?”

“I’m you, or I was you. Your replacement.” Tweek twiddled his thumbs. Kenny didn’t look particularly offended, just disappointed.

“They replaced me? With you?” He asked incredulously.

Tweek nodded. “Um, yes. Well, first they tried with Butters, but it didn’t work out so they had auditions and everything. I don’t think I was a very good you, though.”

“Well of course not!” Kenny burst out. “I’m me! I’m the only me there is!” He sighed. “Those bastards...They couldn’t have waited...never mind. Doesn’t matter.” Kenny scowled at his headstone. “Still, they replaced me with Butters? He’d make a horrible me!”

“He did, that’s why they kicked him out for me. I think because he started wearing tinfoil and playing with this second grader.” Tweek pushed himself into a more comfortable sitting position as he put his shoe back on. He supposed he should be scared. After all, he was talking to a ghost, but after the first shock, Kenny wasn’t all that scary

“My death really shook him, didn’t it? Poor Butters.” Kenny mused.

“They all miss you. We all do.” Tweek offered as a condolence.

Kenny smiled at that. He looked up at the sky. Tweek followed his gaze. It would be night soon.

“You need to get home, don't you?” Kenny asked.

Tweek stood, dusting off his pants. “Yeah, I do.”

Kenny hummed, wagged his head side to side as he thought. After a moment he moved so he was standing as well, though he was floating off the ground, putting him a little taller than Tweek.

“Would you mind coming back here to talk to me sometime?” Kenny requested. “You’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long time. It's boring here.”

“Aren’t there other ghosts around?” Tweek looked around. “It’s a graveyard.”

“Well, there is one other ghost around, but she’s old and doesn’t respond when I call to her,” he shook his head, “and none of the people around my grave are ghosts and I can’t go very far. So, please? If you want, anyway.”

Tweek chewed his lip. With Stan, Kyle, and Cartman kicking him out, it’s not like he had any other friends to hang out with after school. The other boys only invited him when they needed an extra for a group game.

“I guess I can.” Tweek nodded.

Kenny beamed so brightly, Tweek almost forgot he was dead.

“Awesome! Thank you, dude!” Kenny exclaimed.

Like an infectious disease, Tweek found himself smiling right back at the ghost before he waved and headed towards home.

~~~~~

By some stroke of luck, Cartman’s rage had waned by school time. He still glared at Tweek and tried to trip him in the lunch line, but he didn’t threaten his life with a blunt instrument. Stan and Kyle, on the other hand, refused to look at him. Tweek preferred that.

After the final bell rang, Tweek waited at the crossroads. If he headed straight, he could cut through town and go to the shop, or he could head to the church and the graveyard.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Tweek ran over what happened the day before in his head. Did he actually see Kenny’s ghost there or did he dream it? There was still a tender knot on the back of his head from the fall, so that was real at least.

But if it was real, he did promise he would come back. Kenny would be disappointed if his first companion in months didn't show--or maybe he would be mad. Tweek knew enough to know mad ghosts were the worse. What if he cursed Tweek to a life of always finding a pointy rock in his left shoe? What if he entered Tweek’s dreams and wailed 'The Song That Never Ends'?

Tweek squeezed his eyes shut, tensed his body, then spun towards the church.

~~~~

Kenny sat on his headstone, knees to his chest, singing a song that Tweek didn’t know. It sounded classic and old, like the songs that floated down from mass during children's church.

He didn’t seem to notice Tweek as he walked up, so Tweek waited with fingers tapping against the straps of his backpack.

Kenny had a good voice. Tweek didn’t know that. It was oddly operatic and rich and resonated around the graves, giving life to the graveyard.

When he finished, Kenny looked up. He jumped.

“Tweek, you came back.” He dropped his legs so they draped over his headstone.

“I said I would,” Tweek stepped closer. “What was that song? It sounded pretty.”

“It’s Mozart!”

Tweek furrowed his brow. “So it’s...Polish?”

“German,” Kenny corrected, “The song is ‘Leck mich in Arse.’ Guess what the song is about.”

Tweek shouldered off his bag and sat beside the headstone. “No idea,” He replied, unzipping his bag, “What does it mean?”

A crooked grin spread across Kenny’s face, revealing the gap in his teeth where one was missing.

“‘Lick my ass.’” Kenny cackled.

Tweek snorted, nearly dropping his pencil. “No way! What does it mean, really?”

“It does mean lick my ass, but I was read that a better translation would be ‘kiss my ass,’” Kenny  kicked his legs.“It’s, like, a party song Mozart wrote. Isn’t it weird to think people in powdered wigs had fun?”

Tweek settled his math homework on his lap. “Where did you learn that song? I know some Mozart from my piano lessons, but I never learned that song.”

“A tape on music from the library. I didn’t know you played the piano.” Kenny leaned forward to look at Tweek’s homework. “Is piano hard? Do you like playing it?”

“It’s ok. I like doing things with my hands.” Tweek wrote out his first math problem in the space under the question.

‘If Johnny has two dozen apples, and he wants to share his apples with three friends, how many apples with everyone have? Please show your work.’

“I think most people like doing things with their hands. It’s easier than using your feet.” Kenny pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross but paused halfway to let one leg stay down.

Tweek shook his head. “No, I mean, I think bett—nevermind. It’s not that important.”

Tweek turned his attention back to his work.

Why was he so chatty? Maybe because Kenny wouldn’t be able to get other students to gang up on him? Was it because Kenny was safe to talk to? No, that wasn’t it. He just felt weirdly comfortable. Did all ghosts make people feel like this?

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going try to explain all his weird quirks to Kenny, who probably didn’t care anyway.

“Two dozen = 12 + 12 = 24.” Tweek wrote.

As he drew out the division diagram, Kenny waved his hand in front of his face. He’d slipped off the headstone and sat against it with his head cocked to one side.

“Did you hear me? I asked what you meant.” Kenny dropped his hand to his lap.

Tweek spun his pencil nervously. “It’s nothing. You’ll laugh.”

Kenny puffed out his chest, then crossed his heart with his finger, holding up one hand. “I swear not to laugh. Boy scouts’ honor.”

Tweek put his pencil eraser in between his teeth and chewed on it. He bit off a sliver of rubber and swallowed it.

Hacking, Tweek fished out his thermos from his bag. He ran out of coffee around lunch time, so now it only had water with the faintest coffee taste. He chugged it.

“Hey now, don't die on me!” Kenny laughed at his own joke.

Tweek wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Sorry, I, um, I think better when I have my hands doing something. I get full of e-energy when I, urk, just sit around, but at least I multitask well.”

Kenny pursed his lips. “So you can’t stay still at all? I noticed you fidget in class a lot.”

“I can, but, it’s hard sometimes.” He explained, working through the problem. “But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes I get so into something, I don’t move for hours. I once made an entire city of Legos on a Saturday. I didn’t leave my room once to go to the bathroom or eat until Mom got me for dinner.”

“That sounds kind of weird,” Kenny stated, but not in a judgy way.

“I know,” Tweek replied, circling his answer. “I’m a freak. Everyone says so. A freak, a, argh, a spaz, a w-weirdo.” He sighed. His chest felt like someone dropped a thousand-pound anvil on him. He swallowed the lump in his throat then shoved his homework in his bag.

“I need to get home.”

“Wait, Tweek!” Kenny scrambled to his feet. “I didn’t mean—”

Tweek didn’t zip up his backpack before darting down the hill. If he lost something, he didn't care. From the grave, he heard Kenny shouting at him, but he didn’t turn around or wait to listen.

~~~~

Tweek stared up at his ceiling and all the glow in the dark stickers he placed above his bed. He felt terrible for running away. He knew Kenny wasn't being mean to him. It was true. Tweek wasn’t normal. He was a disorganized mess of a person who couldn’t sit still for more than three minutes or could only sit still for three hours. He twitched and made weird, little noises. He was a complete freak for all those reasons!

Among other things...

Tweek rolled to his side, pulling his blanket to his nose, to stare out his bedroom window.  The snow drifted softly down, illuminated from below by the street lamps. Were there lamps close Kenny’s grave? Could he see the snow too? He couldn’t feel it, of course. Maybe he was listening to it, to the soft sound of it gathering on the tree branches above him.

Tweek slipped out of bed and walked to the window. He placed a hand against the cold glass, leaving a handprint in the condensation. Guilt gnawed at his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Tweek whispered. “I’ll come by tomorrow right after school and stay until it gets dark. I promise.”

~~~~

This time Tweek found Kenny curled into a ball on his side. His eyes had a faraway look to them and his mouth set in a pout.

Tweek cleared his throat a few times before Kenny stirred. He sat up.

“I’m sorry,” He said before Tweek could speak. His words sounded rehearsed. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I don’t think you’re a freak or weirdo. I really like your company and—”

“It’s ok.” Tweek cut him off. “I don’t usually tell people about my problems like that. I didn’t know how to react to your answer, I guess.”

“No, no, I shouldn’t have called you ‘weird,’” Kenny told him. “I don’t really think that’s weird. It’s cool you can get so super focused on projects.” He rubbed his chin. “Imagine if my friends and I were like that. Usually, we get distracted halfway through and have to have someone, remind us to get back to work.” Kenny set his fists on his hips. “Imagine if we could work that hard. The town would have been blown up four times less than it already has been.”

Tweek burst out laughing. “Don’t you mean four times more?”

Kenny relented with a shrug. “Speaking of my friends, how are they? How is everyone in the class? Did anything big happen while I've been gone?”

Tweek sat down. “You’re friends are fine. They took your death hard, from what I can tell. They played it very safe for the first month or two because they didn’t want to lose another friend.” He rolled his eyes. “Not that that lasted too long. Those fuckers almost got me killed, you know! I pointed a bazooka at Steven Spielberg! We nearly had our faces melted off! I became a god and genocide happened in my name!”

Kenny chuckled. “Well, that’s just a day in the life of me and my wacky friends!” Raising his eyebrows jokingly, he made a move as if to jab Tweek in the rips, but caught himself before his elbow touched Tweek’s side.

His smile faded after a moment. “Well, I guess that would just be my friends now...”

Tweek felt his heart twist in sympathy. Kenny’s friends might have been major assholes, but they were still his best friends. He needed to get Kenny’s mind off of them!

“Ah, oh, and, Bebe! Bebe started to get her, you know,” Tweek waved his hands over his chest, “boobs!”

This got Kenny's attention. He stared, wide-eyed, at Tweek with his mouth slightly agape.

“Boobs? Like on her chest? For real?” He jumped up. “Tell me about them! Were they huge? Did they jiggle when she walked? Have you touched them?”

Tweek blushed. “What? Urk! Touch! No! Hell no! They’re not huge. If she wears a thick sweater, you can't even tell she has them, but they...they do weird things to us, man.” A shudder ran down his spine. “All the boys started fighting each other over being her friend.”

“If I was still alive, I’d want to be her friend too...” Kenny smiled to himself.

Tweak shook his head. “No, dude, they really made all of us act nuts! We fought each other like animals.”

Tweek didn’t add in that he still didn’t really understand why all the other boys acted like it was such a big deal. Stan had tried to explain it, but he just didn’t get it, so he pretended that he did and his involvement in the fights hadn't been in self-defense. So she had some bumps on her chest. So did Tweek after he got some mosquito bites last summer. All the boys didn’t beat each other up over him.

“If Bebe let me be her boyfriend, I’d definitely kick every boy in our class’s ass,” Kenny proclaimed. “Next school picture, you have to bring me the class photo so I can see her.”

“I will, if I can,” Tweek promised.

“What else?” Kenny bounced. “What else?”

Tweek spent the next two hours recalling funny or interesting school happenings to Kenny. He got the ghost to double over, roaring in laughter, three different times. Kenny’s voice even caught in his throat when Tweek told Kenny about seeing his sister playing with some girls in her grade.

Kenny drummed on his knees. “Wow, damn, I’m missing out on all sorts of fun stuff at school. Never thought I’d say that.”

“Man, at least you aren’t having to do fractions.” Tweek shuddered.

“Would you mind if I helped you with your homework some time?” Kenny requested. “I might be a ghost, but I don’t want to be one of those uneducated ghosts.”

Tweek didn’t think it mattered if a ghost knew fractions and long division or the history of America or what the difference between a metaphor and a simile was, but maybe Kenny just wanted an excuse for Tweek to keep coming around. He didn’t think he minded that.

Without his stupid friends around overshadowing and talking over him, Kenny was a really nice and interesting person.

“Ok, I can do that.” Tweak stood, adjusting his backpack. “I'll come back in a few days, and we can work through my homework together.”

Kenny's face fell. “In a few days?”

“I have to help at the coffee shop at least three days a week to earn my allowance,” Tweek explained.

Kenny nodded glumly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He shook himself before smiling at Tweek. “I'll see you then, alright? Bring me some really good gossip, ok?”

~~~

Tweek visited Kenny more often than not for the next few weeks. He brought what little wisps of gossip he heard passing by in the cafeteria and hallways, then Kenny would try to predict what he thought would come of the news.

“If Red is going to wear the same dress, then she and Annie will get into a fight over it, or at least talk behind each other's backs — which for girls, is the same thing as fist fighting. They’ll make up before look long through.” or “I know Cartman, dude. If he can show up Kyle as the golden child, he will.” or “Stan and Wendy broke up? I give it a week before their all over each other again.”

He was right every single time.

“That's amazing!” Tweak exclaimed. “You have a superpower, Kenny!”

Kenny scoffed. “I have a better superpower than understanding how my classmates think.”

Tweak took a bite of the snack cake he brought with him. “You do? What is it?” He asked around the heavy cake and creme filling.

Kenny looked down at his lap as he sat on his headstone.

“It's that....it’s...I can't...” Kenny shook his head. “I don't think it works anymore anyway.”

His voice held something Tweek from Kenny since meeting him as a ghost: fear.

Whatever this superpower was, it must have been a big loss for death to take it away.

Tweak wanted to pry, but Kenny jumped to his feet and clapped his hands.

“Tweek, I need a favor.”

Tweak swallowed his cake. “What?”

Kenny had asked for favors before. Little things like how a particular sports team was doing or news on a celebrity he either admired or despised.

“Can you check on my sister?” He requested. “Karen? You don't need to talk to her if you don't want to, but just get a good look at her. Make sure she's doing alright.”

Tweek shoved his wrapper into his pocket. “Um, I can try. Why? Are you worried about her?” His eyes wander to the half-eaten snack cake, then widened. “Do you think your sister is starving? That she's not getting enough food?”

Tweek took the wrapper back out to wrap up the snack cake. He felt guilty eating right now.

Kenny laughed. “Oh, no, I'm not worried about that. With me gone, she gets enough.”

Sorrow twisted Tweek's gut. Sometimes Kenny's dark humor over his death made him uncomfortable, but Tweek didn't think it was his place to tell the ghost to stop if it made him feel better.

As Tweek stored away his snack, Kenny explained, “I just want to make sure she’s happy. Kevin’s a good enough older brother. He can protect her when Mom and Dad argue, but he’s not so good at comforting.” He shrugged. “That fell on me, but since I’m not there...”

Tweek didn’t need him to finish to understand, so he agreed. Tweek didn’t have recess with Karen, but her class left the cafeteria at the same time as Tweek’s came in. Maybe he could look at her then.

Deciding to figure out a plan of action later, Tweek zipped up his backpack.

“Tweek,” Kenny beamed, “you’re the best, dude.”

Something about Kenny’s bright smile made Tweek’s heart stumble in its beat. His ears grew hot as he scrambled to his feet.

“I have to go.” Tweek pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be back on Saturday, though.”

“Aaaah, that’s a whole four days,” Kenny whined. “I thought you only had to work three days to get your allowance.”

“It's supposed to rain and sleet all day Friday,” Tweek told him. “The weather might not make you cold, but it does me.”

Kenny sighed. “Alright, alright. I understand. I’ll see you later then.” As Tweek walked away, trying to keep his pace even, Kenny called, “Remember, find out if Karen is happy, ok? Stay warm until I see you again!”

The moment Tweek left the gate, he ran, his heart pounding and stomach twisting.

~~~

Chapter 2

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 15 - Candy Page 34

==>

John finally decides to let the relevance of his story end, and enjoy that he’s made at least some of his other friends happy with his choice.  Time to read Page 34...

VRISKA: Pfft, yeah, wh8tever. I’m basically Immortal, bitch.

Preeeetty sure you’re confusing yourself with one of your parents.

Pff, actual healthy kismesis with a Tavros?  Wow, we’re getting all sorts of redemption by not-really-Vriska proxy here.

HARRY ANDERSON: he’s always getting all weepy whenever i talk to him anyway. HARRY ANDERSON: i don’t think i could have taken another round of him choking back tears while apologizing to me about “what happened with me and your mother, harry.” HARRY ANDERSON: i mean, god. he’s not even fucking DRUNK when he does this. HARRY ANDERSON: that might actually be the most embarrassing part.

.......

Okay, having grown up with a father who suffered from serious depression and would break into tears embarrassingly easily, uh.  I can relate?  But also fuck you, that’s inconsiderate.

--Dammit, new Vriska is catching wind of old Vriska.

Vriska and (Vriska) both start shrieking at a pitch John’s only ever heard one time before. It was a sound that once accompanied the end of everything. A sound once heard the night he dreamt in anime.

Oh that’s brilliant.  If the entire Candy arc ended here it’d be great, though I know it’s not quite over yet.

==>

...Oh shit, we actually get to see what happens immediately next.

Interesting introspective thoughts!  Or, trying her best NOT to be introspective and failing.

Oh my god, SHUT UP Gamzee.  Vriska, just kill him already??

PFFF HE SENT A PIC OF IT TO KARKAT :D

Pfff.  Yeah, Vriska, TRY and ignore what just happened and how it was almost entirely your idea.

(Vriska) is so furious, she has no way of pinpointing the exact moment her intent stopped being intimidating him into silence and started being guaranteeing his silence, forever.

Thank FUCKING goodness, PLEASE kill him.

YAY he’s dead! :D  (Even though he’ll probably revive anyway because bullshit.)

Heheh. NOW we get a cross-Vriska heart to heart.

==>

Alright, a bit more John moping.  Man... this Candy section is a whole lot easier to swallow AFTER Meat than I imagine it would have been before.

.....heck.  EITHER of these epilogue branches are really fucking hard to swallow the first time around without the other’s context.

Oh huh, it’s his house from the Medium then?  Relocated and stuff?

Jake, hm.  Is Jake going to try and leave his son with John like that failed kidnapping in reverse or?

Jake snaps the elastic on his pair of red underpants. It’s the only thing he’s wearing.

Oooookay then.

JAKE: She had a certain way she liked me kipped out and well, i didnt want to bring anything that belonged to her when i left. Nothing she er, might miss. TAVROS: You took me,

Jake winces.

TAVROS: And,,, you took you,

Jake’s wince deepens.

Oh, so that’s what this is!  Jake fleeing with his son from an abusive relationship.  About gosh darn time.  .....geez, how bad did it get for JAKE to finally muster the gumption to do that himself after all these years???

Jake is one whole wince now

I know THAT feeling.  Or at least feel like I do.

John you dedicate your life to keeping this child happy

JOHN: it’s just been kind of a rough forever.

:C

JAKE: Maybe you should blame me? JAKE: Maybe i need someone to blame me. For once. JOHN: ...huh? JAKE: I think im starting to realize that ive been going through life with the mindset that nothing has ever really been within my control.

YES.

This is how Vriska broke Tavros way back in the comic, by constantly denying him agency.  Jake’s been battered down the same way too, and it’s not too late to pick up the reins.  He’s already DONE that by finally leaving his genocidal wife.

There’s a bit of Page of Hope-yness to this whole disastrous Candy timeline, come to think of it?  People fulfilling others’ desires out of obligation constantly, doing what they think others want?  Roxy, Jake, Dave and Karkat... all fucked over at the aggressive whims of more active folk, rolling over when they really shouldn’t have?  Or in Roxy’s case, her CHARACTER basically SHOULD NOT HAVE IN THE SLIGHTEST?

JAKE: Havent you ever wanted to let someone make the tough choices for you?

Huh.

Or maybe he is doing exactly what Jake has always done. In a certain light, isn’t ascribing all this mess to some unconscious influence he might have had over the metaphysical shape of reality just a way to brush off his simpler failures as a man and a father?

Yes.  You can act and change this too, John.  You almost did with the kidnapping before!  Go and take down the new Batterwitch.

Hm, Hopey thing?

JAKE: John. JOHN: yeah? JAKE: Take my hand. JOHN: what? why?

Oh shit.  Are they going to be able to FIX some of this BS with some sort of hopey thing??? :D  Probably too much to hope for but still!

Being flung from Jake’s orbit of Hope and Change

Pffff.  Had to throw in an Obama didn’t you.

...Oh.  Oh wow.  Oh we get to figure out what the fuck was up with Roxy all this time.  Oh boy.

JAKE: So what if it doesnt change anything? Wont it matter to your family to see you care? JAKE: Wont it make you feel better to try?

:D

Heheh, Hope aspecty stuff.  The ability to believe that something matters even when you “know” it doesn’t.

==>

...Yeah, it’s pretty easy to relax on a dead Gamzee.

Oh cool.  These Vriskas are alike enough to bond!  New Vriska is still in her teenage unbalanced go-for-it stage, and old Vriska has been knocked down a peg by the clown incident, putting them on a close enough level to not want to instantly disown each other, unlike old Vriska and ghost Vriska.

VRISKA: The Mayor’s dead, dude.

HOW did the Mayor die?!??  Did I just FORGET that from the end of Homestuck or something??

(I mean, probably.)

Callback to the clouds in that first Jade dream John had.

(VRISKA): Or may8e the truth just makes me kind of nervous. VRISKA: What “Truth”? (VRISKA): Don’t tell him I said this, 8ut, I think John is just an extremely powerful 8eing. Even when he sucks. (VRISKA): And he certainly does appear to suck in this reality. (VRISKA): And yet, the uneasy feeling is there. (VRISKA): It’s a vague feeling I’ve had in the 8ack of my mind for a long time, 8ut it really hit me when I was talking to him earlier. (VRISKA): It’s distur8ing to think a8out that much power 8ottled up in one stupid nerd who’ll never understand it. VRISKA: What Power are you even talking a8out? VRISKA: Like, lame Wind Powers? (VRISKA): No, I mean... (VRISKA): The power to shape reality. Even without intending to.

FUCK did he really cause all this??? Even the Roxy shit?!???  D:  D:  D:

It’s being left vague but it IS sounding like John was actually RIGHT about all that stuff.  FUCK, if the “villain” who messed up Roxy is actually just John’s subconscious...  :C

Even if the epilogue ends right here, though, with John about to call Roxy, I can imagine it working out, though.  It’s on a right enough track there.

(VRISKA): I’ve spent so long caring so much a8out what other people thought of me. Mainly that they saw me as important, or making a “difference.”

Mhmm mhmm.  Light n stuff.

Yeah, realizing that importance isn’t ALL that’s “important” is really, um.  Important.  Ahem.

Hm, other Vriska, that smile had seven pairs of dots, not eight.  :?

(VRISKA): The POINT is, I was so mad at her. (VRISKA): That happy ghost version of myself, who was free of everything. (VRISKA): I was pro8a8ly mad 8ecause she got to 8e who she really was, without stressing a8out it, which is something I never felt like I was allowed to have.

Indeed.

(VRISKA): I guess I mean there’s someone specifically I fell out of touch with, who it feels like I’ll never see again.

Too bad, only ghost Vriska got her reunite with ‘Rezi.  :P

(VRISKA): On some level I knew she was right. She was happy and honest with herself. And that’s what made her... (VRISKA): A version of myself who was actually worthy of someone I cared a8out.

Yyyep.  As I said.  :)

VRISKA: You’re just talking a8out The Girl You 8linded that one time, aren’t you? (VRISKA): Ummmmmmmm.

Heheh.  Yeah, you’re not going to hide that sort of thing from your sharp near-clone.

Oh cool!  She gets to see all those messages and feel turboguilt or something.

...oh shit.  Is a message going to actually get to her?  It-- oh shit.  Didn’t Terezi have her phone buzzing in her pocket and ignored it in the end of Meat or something?  Or at SOMEONE did and I thought it conspicuous but it didn’t get addressed in that side of the story and-- FFFFuck is she eventually going to see it or??!  D:

She’s GOT to have seen it before running all the way off with villain Dirk, right?? D:

==>

Okay.  You seem to be thinking clearly, Roxy.  What’s going through your head? Give us some answers.  Don’t fuck this up too much, John.

but she knows by now that it’s not her job to make him happy. That was something she gave up on years ago. But wanting to? That feeling is still as fresh as it always was.

FUCK was this all just a placid feeling of obligation to make John happy for all he did to ensure victory or something??? D: D: D:

She’s still working through what she feels about distancing herself from Jane

Yesssss

If he’s truly about to be real with her for the first time in forever,

Gosh fucking DARNIT John, you could have fixed all this DECADES AGO if you had a real talk with her ONCE!!!!!

ROXY: the more i thought abt it the more i figured holdin on to that one thing made me lose out on some other shit ROXY: u might relate JOHN: haha, you got me there i guess.

:c

JOHN: i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how things got to be like they are. JOHN: i guess i’ll just come out and say it. JOHN: i completed fucked up your entire life. JOHN: i’m not going to pretend like there are two sides here. it’s my bad, totally. JOHN: like, not just what happened to our marriage, though it’s also true that that’s completely my fault. JOHN: but even before that... JOHN: i think i fucked up on just this massive, fundamental level, and it’s what i did— JOHN: or, well, what i didn’t do— JOHN: that caused every stupid bullshit thing about the way this world is.

...Huh.

That may not actually be true, and Roxy might be about to prove how self-absorbedly reductive that is.

ROXY: oh nah ill stop u rite there my man

Okay YES.  If this wasn’t him, then SET HIM THE FUCK STRAIGHT.  :D

She knows more than he does, and she doesn’t need to hear it.

TELL US TELL US TELL US

YES TEAR INTO HIM he’s wanted that for so long stand up for yourself and tell us what the fuck happened and why

He’s been looking at her, really looking at her, and she doesn’t want to blink, just in case that shatters it.

Yes because he was looking for the real Roxy that would call out his BS

JOHN: i used to be so angry that you wouldn’t tell me what you really thought, before. JOHN: not like i wanted to FIGHT fight, but like. JOHN: i’m just not used to this flavor of roxy. ROXY: hm ROXY: sounds to me like u just disproved ur own hotshot theory then genius JOHN: huh? ROXY: you wished i was one way the whole time we were married ROXY: but i wasnt

YES!!! Yes his theory’s disproven!  He never WANTED Roxy to just act that way, he wasn’t the cause of this, I was hoping for that!  :D

ROXY: i was bad at standin up for myself then and im learnin to be good at it now

D:

That’s....... sad, if that’s the explanation.  But it’s better than mind control I guess.  :(

JOHN: but... JOHN: you were never like that before i... ROXY: dude ROXY: where tf do u get off trying to decide what is or isnt me being “like me” enuff ROXY: do u think ppl stay the same their whole damn lives or what

Oh wow.  Now Andrew’s slamming SLAMMING of fanfics.  He’s saying “who are you to know for SURE that they wouldn’t act that way”??  That’s pretty good.

ROXY: i like the way things turned out just fuckin fine ROXY: so maybe u could stop wastin precious eternity thinkin ur so special that its ur fault everyones not perfectly happy

:’)

Mhmm, and they’re free from the heroic design arcs or what have you.  Or... were, until Dirk tore them back in again.  Tossed aside their fucking victory with his selfish... ugh.

Mhmm, Roxy’s the perfect person to explain that not being in a canon, Light-filled timeline isn’t really a bad thing.

ROXY: i just do things the best way i think to do em and then shrug n hope it works out?

Roxy thinks about time and the spirals of choice that hang just outside her periphery, and the vertigo grows.

Good advice, and hm.  Maybe there’s some Void sight kind of playing into this as well, making it easy for her to get paralyzed by indecision and she’s had to learn to work through it.

...Ooh, that was a really cool non-binary gender diatribe in the narrative text.  That’s some nice stuff.  I felt like that was missing from the Meat side, glad we got it here at least.  :D

JOHN: there’s literally nothing to do but keep moving forward. JOHN: i may as well not be a big fucking downer about it if i don’t have to be.

Thank goodness.

YES, JOHN SHOWING HIMSELF STRAIGHT-BACKED FOR HIS SON!!! :D

Man, I wish my dad had done that instead of all the other shit he did.  At least he’s dead.  :)

(Here’s a hint in case you’re wondering why I was relieved when my Dad offed himself.)

But that’s off topic.  Let’s wrap up this epilogue already!!

==>

Page 39... only three or so pages left, right?

Pff, Karkat’s keeping them safe.

Heheh, more shitty Liberty statues.

Heheh, using them for weapons caches.

Gosh I hope they actually love each other and are mostly happy.  Jade seems happy, at least.  :(

Dammit, there go the doubts.  He wouldn’t have had those doubts with Karkat. :C

He’s standing in the Oval Office of the White House.

Oh heck yes.  Please tell me...

And over there... is something he doesn’t quite recognize. It doesn’t seem to fit in. He steps closer to investigate, wiping away at the layers of moss and dirt to reveal a surface he most certainly does recognize. It’s a transportalizer.

YES

Dave doesn’t waste any time. You don’t find something like this in the Oval Office and start agonizing over whether or not to use it. He steps on the platform, and in a blink his surroundings are completely different. The centuries of overgrowth are gone, and he appears to be in some sort of crypt, boxed in by walls of smooth, golden stone. At the far side of the room, something is hanging on the wall, encased in a sort of display. It’s a mounted god tier costume, about the size an adult male would wear. He recognizes the symbol. It’s the same one Jake used to wear when they were teens. It is the symbol for Hope.

HELL FUCKING YES

YES OBAMA

OBAMA: Hello, Mr. Strider. OBAMA: I’ve been waiting a long time for you to show up.

Dave’s jaw hangs open. The legends have been confirmed. As well as several key headcanons of his. Without thinking, he drops to one knee and bows his head.

DAVE: m... mr president DAVE: its an honor sir

Man, forget my past stomach clenching.  Forget my hesitations, my turbulent emotions, all the ups and downs the various facets of these Epilogue chapters have given me.  THIS is the best.  THIS makes it all worth it.  This is the best thing to have ever happened, and if I ever feel any regrets about ANYTHING that transpired in the Epilogues, I’ll feel infinitely better the moment I remember it gave us THIS.

The most beautiful scene I’ve ever witnessed.  All my liberal, economy-ranting hopes and dreams confirmed.  It’s glorious.

OBAMA: Come on now, Dave. We can’t be having that. OBAMA: I’m nobody’s king. I’m a democratically elected representative who took an oath to serve his country and his people. People like you, Dave. OBAMA: If anything, I should be the one bowing.

OBAMA.  I MISSED YOU OBAMA.  I CAN HEAR YOUR VOICE THROUGH YOUR TEXT AND ITS SO COMFORTING AND UPLIFTING

DAVE: mr president what i mean is im a huge fan of yours and i hope this doesnt sound fucked up but on some level i feel like ive been waiting my whole life for this moment?? OBAMA: I know, Dave.

Yes, yes you have.  Yes, we can.

OBAMA: Most people thought I was gone. But I was keeping an eye on events. OBAMA: Wouldn’t miss it for anything.

I, too, would like to have the feeling that Obama is still out there, keeping an eye on things.  Watching, smiling... providing some last background of Hope as things seem so temporarily sour.  That feeling would be amazing.

...I mean he’s still alive IRL, sure, but not Obama watermark smiling lovingly from the sky or anything like it should be.

Yes, back to reading.  Back to this glorious, definitely canon moment.  The moment we learned that Obama was with us the whole time.  :’)

DAVE: sorry if this is nosy but if you didnt die when you disappeared then how did you die OBAMA: Most of that is classified, Dave.

Pfffffff  :D

OBAMA: When I was a boy living in Hawaii, on my thirteenth birthday I was visited by a mysterious stranger. OBAMA: He was an older man with a mustache. Kind of a corny, old-fashioned, adventuring type. He tried to convince me we were related. Of course, I thought he was full of shit. OBAMA: To this day, I’m not sure about that. Maybe he was. I didn’t think much of his tall tale at the time, but what did pique my interest was his story. OBAMA: He was voyaging all over the Pacific looking for a mysterious island, which supposedly had all the answers he’d spent his whole life searching for. OBAMA: During his travels, he set up outposts all over the ocean to help with his search. Such as one near where I lived as a boy. The outpost had a laboratory, an archeological dig site, a network of underground tunnels, the works. OBAMA: One time, I snuck in there and did some exploration of my own. Somewhere in the maze of underground ruins, I found a transporter pad, just like the one that brought you here. OBAMA: It sent me to a new realm. A place they called the Medium.

Grandpa Jake of Earth A, thank you SO much for bringing us this gift.  The gift of Obama.

OBAMA: Hey, why don’t we take a walk. You’ll have a chance to collect yourself. And there’s something I’d like you to see.

:O :O :O

I am shivering with anticipation.

Ah, leave it to Obama to help Dave with the final steps of his character arc.

OBAMA: Are you sure that’s all he is, Dave?

FIX THINGS OBAMA!!!! :D :D :D

Wait, what if Obama can turn things into an actually legitimate DaveKatJade?  That would be a miracle only a god of Hope could pull off.

OBAMA: I’ve had my share of doubts about all that, just like any other man. OBAMA: And I’ve had plenty of the same kind of struggles as you, Dave. DAVE: wait DAVE: you...

Obama nods, smiles wistfully. Dave arches his eyebrows high above his shades. They stare at each other, and in the look they exchange, they seem to say all that needs to be said between two grown men on the matter.

:’)

OBAMA: Believing is the key to understanding the truth underlying the words, the truth underlying the ideas they represent, and the truth underlying who we are as individuals. OBAMA: The power of belief, the power of Hope, that’s what endows that which is intangible, ephemeral, or uncertain with a sense of reality. OBAMA: It brings focus to the insubstantial, the mirages of the mind, the multiplicity of what is possible, of what could be, and isolates it—concentrates it—to turn it into that which is. OBAMA: And the result of that, Dave, is what we call truth.

I didn’t think we’d be learning more about the Hope aspect straight from the mouth of Barack Obama.

OBAMA: He taught me about many things. Combat, philosophy, life, love... DAVE: love??? DAVE: hold on are you saying DAVE: that...

PFFFFFFFF :D :D :D

OBAMA: She’s settled happily into the specific. That’s her path now. OBAMA: All of you have embraced that life, in this safely sequestered version of planet Earth. OBAMA: All of you until now, Dave. OBAMA: This is why you’re here. OBAMA: I believe you’re ready to wake up. DAVE: ...

:O

...this is suddenly possibly going to be getting slightly sad isn’t it.  D:

--Oh shit, so THIS is where Davebot came from.

How is he going to break things off with Jade though???  D: D: D:

...Oh my GOSH he’s just going to suddenly vanish and abandon her isn’t he.  D:

...alright, merging with his other selves, et cetera...

It defers to its greatest knight, risen anew.

Yeah that’s nice but am I supposed to pretend you’re going to say goodbye to Jade offscreen or

--ah that’s why the bot didn’t have shades, gotta use the genuine Stiller ones

==>

Page 40, and the start of this sounds a lot like the Postscript.  But we’re getting more this time, thank god.

ARADIA: when i watched as everything broke apart ARADIA: and got swallowed up by the black hole ARADIA: which is where i ended up too ARADIA: that black hole... ARADIA: thats basically you right JADE: yes. ARADIA: and when you speak of your brother ARADIA: thats lord english JADE: yes. ARADIA: and hes dead JADE: not just yet.

Oh shit.  John’s final blow didn’t kill Lord English did it.  Alt!Callie is going to strike the very last killing blow herself isn’t she.

JADE: lesser beings have so much trouble perceiving divinity in the uncanny.

Divinity?  Like, Lollipop-style divinity?  I mean, I guess this IS the Candy branch...?  But what made this so “perfect” to begin with?

JADE: this world, unlike the canonical horrors from which it is hermetically insulated, will always fail to meet the combined criteria for truth, relevance, and essentiality that would endow this realm with any real gravity. JADE: its own naturally occurring supply of gravity, rather than the artificial supply i have given it. JADE: as such, what transpires here is characterized by experiential frivolity. JADE: physically, it is cordoned off by the black hole’s event horizon. it is safe. untouchable. JADE: inescapable. ARADIA: that sounds ominous

Oh.  So this outside-of-canon timeline-verse whatever that Candy takes place in is like a trap?  For Lord English to be trapped in forever, inside not just his OWN story like we thought before but into a place where he’ll be forever irrelevant, while, like... the “Prince” and others following him for pursuit or camaraderie reasons manage to escape somewhere even different?  --No wait those people are OUTSIDE this place, in the “real” timeline/universe of Earth C. So Dirk’s destination is somewhere completely different; oh, and alt!Callie is the only one with the power to escape the black hole, to bring Davebot and Aradia with her back to quote-unquote “canon” or the closest thing to it to bring bastard Dirkbro down.

Or... something.

JADE: one could describe it as a phantasmal projection confined within my horizon. JADE: it was created by a choice that made it possible for that horizon to expand infinitely, to consume infinitely. JADE: and since that choice could not coexist with canon events, this place manifested to here to support its consequences. JADE: if this world were capable of anything either essential, relevant, or true in some stable combination, then it would perpetuate a corrosive paradox. JADE: as such, insulation from what is out there, and the inescapable well it rests in, is what protects all it holds inside. JADE: and since i am the embodiment of the black hole in which it rests, JADE: i am the one protecting this world.

Oh huh.  So when we saw alt!Callie creating the black hole out of the Sun, she was actually using John’s “choice” and his timeline split to engineer the paradox that drove that singularity’s expansion?  And so she’s going to be the lord and safeguard of all that is Non-Canon, and also seek to guide the heroes trying to save what IS Canon?

Hm!

JADE: physical destruction is one thing. JADE: obliteration of the entire canvas for all of reality over a given cosmic span is another. JADE: and yet there are even more insidious forms of destruction and subversion of life to consider. JADE: methods that are difficult to grasp for those on your plane.

Yep, destroying Heart.  Destroying Soul.  Destroying the uniqueness that drives individual agency and choices, and suborning people completely to your will and ideals without their consent or choice.

Hmm....

JADE: but longer stories have the power to draw consciousness into them. they possess arresting and hypnotic qualities which can be used by their tellers to alter the awareness of the listener.

Yep, like a biased narrator with their claws on the > prompt for characters.

JADE: i brought to your attention that the story you were listening to had a speaker with a specific identity. JADE: and where there is an identity, there can also be an agenda.

Yep yep.  And by commandeering the story to his own agenda, Dirk’s been robbing everyone of a fundamental right to their own existences.

JADE: this is the sort of corruption i now must dedicate my existence in this new body to ending once and for all.

Heck Yes; returning the narrative to as objective a speakerless-ness as can be attained or simulated, and divesting the bias from agenda’d narrators that can wrest all control from the participants in a story, enslaving them and making them the author’s puppets instead of true to themselves as characters, people, etc.

--Oh my GOSH, was Dead!Jade eating the remains of Lord English at the end of that Postscript???  She was, wasn’t she?  :D :D :D

That’s pretty fucking awesome.  And a pretty fucking fair fate for him to get cannibalized by his sister.

JADE: consume his body. JADE: absorb his essence. JADE: and then using this host, i will generate enough power to move beyond the staggering pull of the event horizon encasing this world. JADE: a prison of my own making, which can be escaped only through the supreme unification with my other half. JADE: it is crucial to the cosmos that i succeed. JADE: the prince of heart has to be stopped.

:D :D :D :D :D

Pretty awesome!  A decent setup to a story that probably shouldn’t be told, the implied sequel that Meat invites up or whatever.  And... oh phew.

Oh PHEW.

OH FUCKING PHEW. HOLD ON.

So.  The very last line of the epilogue, the last bit:

The hole leaves behind an absence in the sky so calm that continuing to call it a sky wouldn’t seem to do it justice. It’s a perfectly neutral expanse into which anything one can imagine might be summoned. And for a while, anything was. But not anymore. Where the hole gaped just moments ago, there now exists an imaginary line.

Above this line resides all that matters. Below exists all else. Never again the twain shall meet.

Okay!  :D :D :D

So, when I read that last line, I was INCREDIBLY disheartened.  I thought that Andrew was declaring that canon would never interfere with anything again, that this was the FINAL WORD on Homestuck and everything to do with it as far as canon was concerned, and that Dirk’s crimes and such would forever go unresolved and left to the imagination.

But that’s not what the line meant.

What’s INSIDE the singularity, and thus “under” the imaginary line, is everything non-canon, all the possibility and fanfiction and dead ghosts and such who are trapped in this safeguarded realm alt!Callie created to protect them, away from the influence of any future plot danger beyond the mundane issues they create for themselves.

And what’s OUTSIDE the singularity, above the line, is canon.  A canon which actually continues, and which this line doesn’t necessarily cut short.

I don’t know if Andrew will ever continue this nonsense, maybe to show me a Rose who’s actually happy as a robot or something?  But... er, that’s not the point.  The point is that even though the story “isn’t over”, it’s left so it CAN continue, so that the final state of these ISN’T a permanent cliffhanger to be left forever unfulfilled intentionally.  I’ll still be traumatized by the state some of these characters are left in, until Andrew maybe possibly chooses to resolve some of this nonsense with later content, which he probably won’t.  Heck, this actually might be easier for him to create a new work with, given how much baggage has been left behind on old Earth and in the singularity, so all you have is a much relatively smaller cast of characters on a chase to wherever Dirk is planning to go?  But, like.  When I read that Postscript, I stopped believing anyone I saw suggesting we’d get anything after this.  Any sort of work of... you know... continuing, er, Homestuckiness from Andrew, no matter what it was.  But even just... leaving it open even if he isn’t going to DO anything about it, and having that final line NOT be an aggressive cutoff?  Is just nice.  Nicer, anyway.

And this singularity is kept safe for us to enjoy ALL of the old stuff, the multitude of possibility that the in-singularity version of Roxy glimpses out of the side of her eye.  That--

Oh my Gosh.  THAT’S also what the final line means.

Above this line resides all that matters. Below exists all else. Never again the twain shall meet.

Homestuck fanfiction is now COMPLETELY FREE FROM CANON.

Within this singularity, nothing has to stay true to absolutely every underpinning of the earlier comic.  Nothing has to make sense.  Nothing has to be narratively consistent with anything else, though it’s obviously more enjoyable if it is.  Truth, essentiality, and relevance may all be FLEXED as much as any individual fanfic writer needs to!  And... and earlier, before this epilogue.  When we would get Snapchat stuff of the story on Earth C.  And even before that when all we had was the ending flash.  There was still a FEAR on many parts that there was more to canon that Andrew wasn’t telling us, that whatever was in our imaginations about what may have happened was “wrong”, that any fanfic you wrote was liable to be disproven formally.  But that’s not the case anymore.  Because with that line, with alt!Callie sealing off this realm and taking just a last few soon-to-be canon-impactors out of one of its timelines, Andrew has left ALL of the earlier trappings of Homestuck, of Earth, of all these characters and ghosts and fragmented possibilities, permanently free from canon influence from the rest of time.  Meaning no Homestuck fanfic that takes place in this singularity-granted realm may EVER be busted by Andrew’s future work.  He’s done what he first aspired to do when he declared all fantrolls in existence canon.  He’s finally “killed the author”.  He’s made the very FACT of an author an enemy, to be pursued in its own canon story outside of all this.  He’s set EVERYTHING free.

Wow.  So that’s what all the point of all this was, huh?  :D

Let me read the last few pages of Candy anyway.  Where was I again?

Oh, about to click the last page.  ==>

Oh my GOD.  This Postscript is about the end of MEAT, where the Meat Postscript showed us the end of CANDY!!!  :D

Let’s hear where this shit is all going!  I’ve been wondering what realm Dirk is actually heading towards to try and start fucking up.  Reading...

...Oh, okay.  I thought I glimpsed someone mentioning something about Rose “doing Dirk’s laundry”, and I thought I just missed some narrative comment on laundry made when Dirk took Rose out of the apartment on that final trip out to Jake’s for a spaceship?  But I guess this was the scene they were talking about.  Fuck you, Dirk.

One of her more reckless shipmates chipped a tooth trying one, despite repeated warnings to stay away from the stuff.

So Terezi IS there?  And probably received that final message from Vriska to think about.

It’s a stray ruby slipper. The other is about ten feet away, down the hall. No sign of their owner anywhere.

Yep, that’s definitely Terezi.

...Oh cool, Rose’s body isn’t quite dead?  She could be returned to it or a souped-up version of it if she’s ever brought to her senses outside Dirk’s corrosive influence.

A new planet is within sensor range. She studies the millions of statistics all pouring in at once.

They’re heading for a planet?  Somewhere else in Universe C?

It’s an M-Class planet. The right size, right age, right distance from the sun. There’s no advanced life yet. It’s exactly what they’ve been looking for all these years.

Shit, a NEW planet?  For all this shit to go down on?  Maybe I don’t need to see what happens next, that sounds potentially a little boring.  The future adventure this story entails COULD just be implied and never followed up on.

Once the new race has established

What race??? Human, hybrid?? It’s not TROLL, y’all would have brought Aradia if that was the case, right?  Or is this why there are tons of trolls in Universe C that Caliborn and Calliope’s parent trolls got to incinerate ages later, seeded across planets by these assholes?

The ones who get the chance to play what will arguably be the most important session in the history of Sburb?

Ahhh.  Okay.  So this may INDEED be something interesting, something worth seeing.  A new session, one where Dirk is the villain, Rosebot is enthralled, and old heroes are on their way to help see him thwarted.  Along with the mystery participants of a session we’ve yet to see.

Enough time goes by that she begins to wonder if he’s asleep. But no. It’s just the irritated silence of a man who knows he isn’t currently dressed well enough to attend to something important.

DIRK: Are my fucking pantaloons ready yet?

Yeah, fuck you and your anime pantaloons straight in the Yaois, Dirk Smartass.

Okay!

So that’s the end of the epilogue.  BOTH epilogues.  And... I like it.

I don’t know why.  I mean it was all excellent before, and my stomach’s still a BIT clenchy, but I like it now.  I misinterpreted things from the Meat ending, and now everything... everything makes a little more sense.  Some things seem resolved, others earned...

And... in a way I feel like I could actually oddly accept, even if there’s never anything that touches on this ever again...

It doesn’t seem “over”.  :)

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Dreams of Our Past - Chapter 27

*flails around* The chapter is done! It’s the second longest so far and the second half was fighting me until the end. But I prevailed! Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which Gladio invites Ignis to dinner and he finds a dearly missed person because of Iris.

Featuring: Ignis' brand of awkwardness, the starscourge, the tempers of Gladio and Hiemi, Noctis being so very close to a mental breakdown and Somnus and Bahamut being dicks through history

Warning: vomiting, mentioned child murder

Gladio IV

8.5.755 ME

Insomnia, Ghetto

Kingdom of Lucis

The days since their meeting at the Black Saffron had been nerve wrecking and uneventful. It grated on him like nothing else. He had thought, after they had all finally decided – more or less, he was aware enough to admit – on a course of action, things would start to move again. They hadn't. And Gladio didn't like it. At all.

He stood near the door to the pitiful office of Camp No. 5 and watched the people mingling about. More specifically was he watching Prompto, who sat grinning like a loon on a camping bed, a laptop in his lap and... did something while a group of people watched over his shoulder. Gladio really hoped the blond didn't play some kind of game. He was supposed to search through the pictures he had taken over the last few days and upload them on a dummy account by the end of the day.

Here was to hoping the whole crazy plan was going to work. It was a shame Pelna wasn't here right now, but he had finally found the time to talk to his contacts, and had gone to get the ball rolling on that whole facial recognition thing.

It wasn't that things weren't being done, really, it was just that they were moving along so slowly.

Gladio felt like he was treading on the spot, not moving forward no matter how much he wished to. It was frustrating beyond belief.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had fished his phone out of he pocket and weighted it in his hand. It couldn't hurt to call Ignis, making sure the man didn't overwork himself like he was prone to do. Maybe he had managed to find something that would help Gladio figure out what he could be doing in this stinking mess. Not that is was very likely, but a man could hope.

The phone rang once, twice, then a click sounded and a cultured voice drifted through the speaker: “Good morning Gladio. Was there something you needed?”

“Barely morning anymore, Ignis”, the older snorted.

A non-committal hum could be heard. The former advisor could be very peculiar about his greetings. A voice sounded in the background on Ignis' side. It was decidedly feminine, even if Gladio couldn't make out any words.

“Oh no, it's perfectly alright, Miss Aster. I am talking to a friend. Thank you for your wonderful help”, Ignis said.

Gladio couldn't help the grin blooming on his face. “Should I call you later, lover boy?”

Ignis gave an undignified snort. “I am at work, Gladio”, he said, stressing the word work like that was the important part. “Miss Aster is a secretary within the Ministry for Civic Affairs and Immigration. I met her yesterday, when I was looking into how far along they are with evaluating the houses in the Immigration District for damages. Apparently there seems to be a filing issue of some sort. Miss Aster has been looking into it since it came to her attention. She says it goes against her pride to have messy paperwork.”

“Tampering?” Gladio couldn't help but ask.

“Very likely.”

“Damn.”

“Whoever did it was very careful. The papers are listed as filed, they obviously went over all the right desks, but they aren't where they should be. I have never seen this amount of misfiling in my entire life.” Ignis' obvious indignation would be funny, if the situation wasn't so serious. “Mrs. Custodela cannot help us with this. She has her hands already full trying to keep abreast with the camps she is looking over. After this, would you please call Camp 7 for me? Mrs. Custodela has found a plumber who is free and can take a look at their showers.”

Something in the pipes in the showers of Camp 7 had broken and now the water there had turned a muddy brown. It couldn't be very healthy.

“That's good. I'll do that. Anything else?”

“Make sure to note down who is using the vehicles you got provided with, and where they drove and how long it took to get there. Certain people have been making noise about rationing petrol. Records of the use of the vans you have at your disposal would go a long way to work against this”, said Ignis after a few moments of consideration.

Gladio jerked in disbelief. “Rationing petrol? That's bullshit! The oil production in Leide is still under Insomnian control.”

“I know, Gladio. Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck, this whole situation is a stinking mess”, he complained and carded a hand through his hair.

I need a shower, he thought with a grimace. Ignis didn't answer. He didn't need to. Somewhere in the hall a baby started to cry, followed shortly by a second. Gladio sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. He needed to get out of here. At least for an evening. Breath some air that didn't smell of exhaust fumes or like too many sweaty people cramped into a place too small.

“How... how is Iris doing?” Ignis sounded like he wasn't sure at all, if he should even ask.

“She's not doing worse for now”, he choked out, his stomach plummeting like it was suddenly filled with lead.

“Gladio. I am- I'm so sorry.”

That sentence sounded heavy. Full of hidden meanings and implications and Gladio didn't want to hear any of it.

“Don't you dare talk like she's dead already! Because she's still very much alive”, he snapped.

A tightly controlled intake of breath sounded over the speaker. Gladio couldn't muster the will to feel bad about it. Iris wasn't dead and she wouldn't die. He was her older brother and he would protect her, damn it!She was barely fourteen, for Bahamut's sake.

“You are right, Gladio. I apologize”, Ignis said after a maybe too long pause.

“It's alright”, he sighed and deflated.

No, it wasn't alright, not at all. But Ignis was a friend – or had been a friend once – and he didn't deserve this. Pitioss, Iris didn't deserve this most of all. Why ever were the Gods punishing her like that? It had to stop.

He cleared his throat and asked awkwardly: “I'm going back home for the night to spend some time with her. Do you want to come over for dinner? Iris would love to see you again.”

“If you are sure.”

Ignis sounded so high-strung that Gladio just knew he was feeling as awkward as he himself was.

“Don't worry. I wouldn't ask, if I wasn't.”

“Then I will gladly come. Which time would be most convenient?”

“We normally eat around six since Iris gets tired early”, Gladio shrugged.

Ignis hummed in thought. “Five thirty then.”

“Fine by me”, he answered after mentally running through his to-do list again. “Just... be gentle with her, alright?”

“Of course, Gladio”, agreed Ignis. “I need to go back to work.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, of course. I'll see you later.”

“Until later.”

The call disconnected. Gladio listened to the silence of his phone for a few seconds before he sighed and lowered it from his ear to stare at it. Social graces and impulse control. He needed to work on his temper more. But for now he had a few calls to make. First Camp 7 about that plumber and then Jared to tell him that he and Ignis would be there for dinner. He had been trying to come every evening since the earthquake happened, but he hadn't always managed it.

On his first call he managed to reach Libertus who sounded just as grouchy as he had expected the man to be. Gladio had to bite the inside of his cheek as to not snap back. Instead he managed to make his way through the conversation with all the grace of a garula in a china store. Luckily Libertus didn't seem to notice. Something about two feuding Clans in one room, he had heard Crowe and Pelna say.

His second call went a bit better. He could practically hear the retainer smile as he announced his and Ignis' presence for dinner.

Now he could go outside and see how far along Tredd and Crowe were with checking over the newest delivery. Then there would be another round of phone calls between Centres 4 through 8 to see who was lacking what and to pool their resources. After lunch he would write out new timetables for those who had volunteered for various duties around here. And he would need to find someone who had experience with the whole giving birth thing, since one of the women here looked just about ready to pop.

Dinner could have been definitely worse. It had been decidedly awkward, but between Ignis practically doting on Iris within the first few minutes of his arrival and Jared's efforts to keep the conversation flowing, it had been a very pleasant meal. Everything had been fine, Iris had been laughing and moving around more than she had in weeks and Ignis had been sharing recipes with Jared.

He should have known that this wasn't going to last. Nothing good had for a long time now.

The screaming woke Gladio in the middle of the night. It took his sleep addled brain long precious seconds to realize that they were coming from his sister's room. He practically leapt out of bed and ran into her room that thankfully was right next to his. Light spilled into the dark room and for a moment his sister's shadow seemed to froth and seethe, but Gladio ignored it in search of any attackers that he could painfully eviscerate.

No one was there. No one but Iris and him.

Her screaming stopped once she saw him.

“Gladdy”, she whimpered and reached out towards him.

The sleeves of her pyjama slid back and exposed dark splotched on her skin that hadn't been there during dinner. A thin line of blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth. It was black.

“Iris!” he cried and lunged towards her, cradling her small form carefully against his muscled chest.

“Gladdy, it hurts. It hurts so much.”

She grasped weakly at his arms, sobbing. Then she went limp, her breath coming in nothing but weak bursts that ghosted over the naked skin above his collar bone.

“No”, he breathed. Desperation roared in his chest like a wild beast and stole his breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”

What should he do? No doctor or hospital they had visited since she had first gotten sick, had been able to help. There was no one here that could help her.

Oh, by the Gods, she was going to die.

The realization hit him like a slap in the face. His little sister would die before morning came, because there was no one in this damned city that...

Gladio's breath stuttered in his chest when he remembered what the innkeeper of the Black Saffron had said about his son and the woman that had come by during the meeting, when he remembered what that prostitute had told him last week.

Without stopping to consider what a colossally stupid idea this was – he could not afford to think about it, not now when his little sister was dying – he wrapped her blanket tightly around her frail body and lifted her up in his arms. She was so light he barely noticed her weight.

Why was it getting so much worse? Why now, of all times? She had been fine! Or at last not worse than the last time he had taken her to a doctor.

He didn't even stop to get dressed in something other than his sleeping trousers or to put on some shoes, and instead ran right out of the door, into the dark streets of Insomnia. In the privacy of her bed, the prostitute had described to him how he could get to this Healer, if he ever needed to.

Sweat ran down his face and back the further he ran, his breath burned in his lungs, but he didn't dare to stop. He didn't dare to do so as he ran past buildings the earthquake had destroyed, deeper and deeper into the city, through neighbourhoods that were getting more and more run down.

Iris began to shiver, despite the warm summer night. Gladio only tightened his grip and hastened his steps.

Despite the growing lack of functioning street lamps, he could see the great, broken pillar. It rose out of the shadows like a great, stony needle as he hurried past it and then turned left into a narrow alleyway. It didn't take long to reach the other side. It was nearly pitch black now. Only a few weakly glowing lanterns showed him the way, forcing him to slow down, lest he stumble and fall. He found the staircase Viti had talked about through sheer luck. There weren't any handrails, so he had to be extra careful. He did not dare hurry since some of the metal stairs creaked ominously.

Follow the lights, Viti had said, and so he started to run again towards the nearest light he could see. It was a single lantern glowing like a lonely star at the first house on the right. It hung from the ceiling in a room that was entirely open on one side and illuminated a group of chairs, metal drawers and a long table. In a corner there was a part of the wall that looked like it could possibly be a door. He just about kicked it in.

“Hello! I need help!” he bellowed into the darkness of the house, honestly not caring who he might wake.

Not a second later hasty footsteps sounded to his left. It was a teenager, his skin paler than he had ever seen a human being be, with big blue eyes so light they looked white near the pupil. In his hand he carried a lantern, its light cast a cheerful glow on everything it touched.

The teenagers eyes grew even larger when he saw the bundle in Gladio's arms, then his eyes dropped to his feet and back up again.

“My sister needs help”, Gladio repeated, pleading.

That seemed to do the trick, as the teenager gestured towards a staircase with a hasty “Follow me!” and practically leapt up the stairs.

“Healer! Healer wake up! There's an emergency. Quick!”

Gladio followed the teen down the hallway to his right until they came to the last door. Behind it was a small room with a rickety bed, a bedside table, a stool and a chest of drawers. Another lantern, it had been hanging from a hook next to the door, was lit and the teenager motioned for Gladio to lay his sister on the bed before he vanished down the hallway again, calling for Healer.

Now here, where he could finally focus on something other than running, running, running, he noticed he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. His heart beat like a fast paced drum and his breath shuddered with each intake of air.

His gaze settled on Iris. Her skin was a pasty, unhealthy white and the dark splotches had spread up her neck and onto her cheeks. Each laboured breath sounded wet and rattled within her chest. Carefully, as to not hurt her any further, he settled her down on the lumpy mattress of the bed. The frame gave a high pitched sound as her weight was added.

From outside the room he could hear doors opening and closing, sleepy voices were asking questions and hasty steps were making their way towards them. A young man appeared in the doorway. He had clearly just woken up, his startling violet eyes squinting against the light of the lantern and his long black hair a mess that hung in his face.

When the man – he couldn't be older than 20 – saw him he froze. His eyes grew large in surprise and fear, his mouth opened and closed like he was a fish on land. Gladio glowered. If he had only come to stare, he was going to beat him within an inch of his life.

“Help her!” he bellowed.

The man jerked. His gaze fell on Iris and all expression vanished from his face. One moment he stood by the door and the next he was next to the bed, leaning over his sister and looking intently at her gaunt face.

“Casto, get me a bucket and take the bedsheets for winter out of the closet. Go to Hiemi and tell her I need some of her purging tea, and bring me a bowl of hot water and a washrag”, he said with an air that made it clear he was used to be listened to and obeyed.

Not bothering to turn around and see if the teenager was listening – which he did; he ran out of the room like the Infernian himself was after him – the young man started to gently unwrap the blanket. She had grown even paler and the black splotches covered large parts of her visible skin.

Gladio would love to ask who this guy even was and what he was doing as he released a hissing breath and started cussing quite creatively, but his voice refused to work. Each new gulp of air took more effort than the last and slowly he began to realize that everything hurt. From his muscles to his feet. Especially his feet. They felt like two big, raw lumps of meat that did nothing but hurt. He ignored it as best as he could for now.

A thin hand with long, elegant fingers was lain on Iris' forehead, golden-violet sparks danced across the digits and over her skin.

Wait, this was the famous Healer?

“For how long has she been sick?”

Gladio's tired mind barely registered the question. “What?” he managed to utter after his second attempt at articulating.

“How long, Gladio”, Healer barked.

How...? That wasn't important right now.

“Nearly two months”, he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. By all the sulphurous fires of Ifrit's den. By all rights, she should be dead by now.”

That made Gladio's tired brain pay attention again. “Excuse me?”

Healer shook his head and reached for the bucket a huffing and puffing Casto held out towards him, bedsheets under his other arm.

“No time for that.”

He gently sat her upright, her weight lying awkwardly in his arms, and sent a wave of softly glowing magic through her. The golden and violet light washed over her like water. Without warning her upper body jerked forward and she vomited her dinner mixed with black blood into the bucket. It stank sickeningly.

Iris took big, heaving breaths, occasionally dispelling mouthfuls of junky black sludge. After nothing new came up, Healer set the bucket down beside the bed. He didn't seem to care for the splatters that had hit the naked skin of his arms and torso. They slowly turned into wispy smoke and then vanished entirely. Her eyes fluttered feverishly without seeming to notice her surroundings.

“Yeah, that's it. Everything's alright now. In and out, in and out. Yah're doing great, Iris. Everything's gonna be alright.”

While Healer was gently coaxing his barely lucid sister into regaining her breath and Casto put a garish monstrosity of a pillow beneath her head, Gladio leaned against the wall to ease the pain in his feet and to regain some kind of equilibrium. Because this Healer knew his sister's name. Gladio knew he hadn't told him and he had known his name, too, without needing an introduction. Just who was he?

“Tata?”

All eyes turned towards the door. There stood a girl. She looked to be around seven with wild, sleep mussed red hair and honey coloured eyes that gleamed golden. She looked drowsily at them and yawned.

“Solaris? What're yah doing out of bed?” asked Healer without taking his glowing hand from Iris' forehead even once.

“It's loud”, the girl complained.

Gladio's gaze wandered from one to the other and he wondered.

Healer nodded. “Ah know, little sun, but Iris needs mah help for now. If yah can't sleep anymore, could yah go down and ask yahr mati for a big glass of water? Casto, could yah look after Astra, please? Ah don't wanna've him running 'round alone and in the dark.”

Both nodded and left the room, the girl taking the teenager's hand. Gladio stared after them. He had heard this accent before, he knew he had. If he could just place where. He felt like he was missing some very crucial things right about now. Sleep. What he needed now was sleep and for Iris to not die.

His gaze settled back on her. A flittering net of golden-violet magic covered her from head to toe. It looked more like mist than a tangible thread. How was such a thing possible? Only the royal family should be the one harbouring powerful magic in this city, even the whole continent. And now here was this Healer, whose magic prickled against his skin like a Lucis Caelum's did. It would probably be more upsetting, if he was fully awake.

“What does she have?” he asked instead of all the other questions burning on his tongue.

Healer blinked at him, as if he had forgotten that Gladio was also in the room. He made a passable impression of a bowstring drawn tight. In an obvious nervous tick, Healer tugged at his hair and wet his lips.

“She's scourge sick”, he said at last, his voice barely more than a quiet whisper.

“Scourge sick”, Gladio repeated tonelessly. “You mean the black plague, curse of the Gods, the starscourge? That kind of scourge sick?”

“Yes”, came the careful confirmation.

Gladio felt his fingers flex like they wanted to hit something, if he had just a bit more energy left. “That's a load of chocobo shit”, he rasped. “The starscourge does not reach within the Wall. Everybody knows that.”

Near glowing, violet eyes shot him a deadpan stare that felt achingly familiar. He suppressed a shudder creeping up his spine. Damn, those eyes were eerie.

“Two months ago yah said? Has she been anywhere near the old crypts at tha' time?”

The broken shield opened his mouth to instinctively deny the question, but he hesitated. “I... I don't know”, he admitted at last. He tried to remember, but his head started to feel like it was packed in wool.

“Doesn't matter anymore. It's good that yah came now, but yah were cuttin' it very close. She wouldn't 'a' made it through the night. Ah can barely believe tha' she made it this long.”

With a shuddering breath Gladio leaned more of his weight against the wall. The rough plaster dug uncomfortably into his shoulders.

Steps sounded from the hallway and shortly thereafter the girl was back, two cups in her hands. One was steaming and emanated a strong smell that made him wrinkle his nose. She gave the one with the foul smelling liquid Healer, the other one she cradled between her hands.

“Thank yah, little sun”, the young man smiled. “Now, yah remember what ah taught yah? Reach for the power resting in yahr bones. No more than a spark. Take it and guide it, it knows what it's got tah do.”

The girl's face scrunched up in concentration, in a way Gladio had seen a hundred times before, in the way Noctis had looked when he had wanted something to go exactly right. What Gladio hadn't seen before was the reddish glow of her hands.

“Not so much, little sun”, corrected Healer gently.

Solaris' brow furrowed even more and after a few seconds the glow dimmed until there was only the barest sheen of it left. It seeped into the cup and the liquid it contained, until it glowed, too.

“Very good”, praised the young man and Solaris beamed. “Would yah be a dear and give it tah Gladio over there?”

“Yes, tata”s she said dutifully and held the cup out to him, standing as far away as she could manage while doing so. She was clearly skittish around strangers.

“No, thank you”, he said while looking at the glowing cup in healthy scepticism. As long as he had no idea what it was he wouldn't drink it. He swallowed, and that made his parched throat just more noticeable.

Healer clucked his tongue in disapproval. “It's jus' water with a bit of healin' magic. Sit down and drink tha'. Yah look like yahr abou' tah keel over. 'Specially with yahr feet.”

Gladio made a face, but in the end he took the cup from the girl. The liquid in it looked like plain water hit by sunlight during noon. It was kind of fascinating, he had to admit. The little girl scampered off towards the bucket and glanced into it, curiosity clear on her face. She clamped her hands over her nose and mouth with a disgusted sound. Gladio frowned. A child as young as her shouldn't see these kind of things. Healer seemed to be of a similar mindset.

“Solaris, would yah please go and get Ardyn? And after tha' ah need yah tah do somethin' very important. Can yah do tha' for me?” Healer looked at her with serious eyes. The girl nodded, face solemn. “Yah need tah go tah the other patients and tell them tha' everything's alrigh'. They don't need tah worry.”

“Ah will, tata”, she said and carefully stepped closer to give Healer a kiss on the cheek before she left the room.

“What happens now?” asked Gladio and took a tiny sip of the mystery water, as he had dubbed it in his mind.

At once he could feel some of his exhaustion leave and the soreness of his muscles easing off just a bit. He blinked in surprise. This was a bit like the potions he knew, just far more gentle in the way the soothed things. Potions and ethers made by Lucis Caelum magic were always accompanied by an unpleasant burn.

Healer answered while he carefully, drop by drop, made Iris drink that foul smelling tea. “Now ah'll start tah heal her. The scourge has been burrowed in her body for too long for me tah heal it all at once, but ah can do it. Yah needn't worry.”

“You can really heal her? How long will it take? There is supposed to be only one person who is able to heal the starscourge, and I kind of doubt that you are the Oracle in disguise.”

The deeply buried seeds of hope started to grow into a warm feeling pooling in his stomach. Or maybe that was just the mystery water.

“Yeah, but like ah said, it'll take me some time. A week at least. Ah don't just need tah rid her of the scourge, but also repair the damage it caused and tha's the truly tricky part.”

Gladio became light headed in relief. If he hadn't been sitting on the floor already, he would certainly do so now. But he couldn't help but wonder how it was even possible. The Fleurets had been blessed by the Astrals with the power to cleanse the scourge from its victims. There were no others.

“My, my, nephew. You have all of the clinic in a right tizzy.”

A man stood in the doorway with wild reddish hair that had an odd violet sheen and golden eyes. He leaned on a cane the same way King Regis did, and Gladio didn't know why, but he found that quite disturbing. Despite the stuffy and hot air he wore a long pair of trousers and a high collared tunic with sleeves that fell down over his wrists.

“She is scourge sick”, the man stated. His eyes bore a strange glint that Gladio didn't like.

Healer nodded. “Yes”, he affirmed and motioned towards the bucket sitting at the end of the bed. “Could yah get rid of tha'? Ah made her drink some of Hiemi's purging tea, so she'll need tha' bucket 'gain soon.”

“Of course, dear nephew. But if you don't mind, I would like to see how you handle this one. It's the first time I see you treat someone afflicted with starscourge, after all. Not to worry, I'll keep myself well out of the way.”

Healer's answering shrug clearly said suit yourself.

Gladio watched as the man – who was most likely this Ardyn the little girl had gone to fetch – gathered the bucket, keeping a straight face at the sickening smell, and retreated back towards the door.

“I'm ready”, the man announced with a grin.

Healer huffed, but he turned his full attention back to Iris who now looked like she had gone back to sleep. He gently rested his free hand on her stomach, right over her navel, the other still being on her forehead, and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed in obvious concentration. For a moment there was absolute silence. Then the glittering net over his sister's body retreated, leaving the room strangely dim. Not a moment later however, Healer's whole body started to glow in a golden light. It looked like a sun was trapped under his skin.

The black lines on his skin, that Gladio had thought were tattoos, started to crack open and released a burning violet light. It looked utterly otherworldly. Suddenly Gladio could believe every story Viti had told him about Healer. That he was a fallen star or an Astral, forgotten by humanity and time. There was so much power. It made his skin prickle and the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. And it seemed like Healer himself could barely contain it, he looked like his human shell was going to shatter at any moment.

Magic pulsed in time of an invisible heart, lapping over Iris and through the air like it was water breaking on a shore. The light seeped into Iris' skin, concentrating where the black splotches marred her, and with each new wave that washed over her they grew a tiny bit smaller. A fine black mist rose and dissipated within seconds.

Gladio couldn't do anything other than stare at the spectacle in front of him, even as it made his eyes burn to look directly into the pulsing light. He didn't even look away when he heard a violent hiss from where the red haired man was watching.

An especially large wave made the air shudder, caressed his skin like the softest silk and eased the pain in his bloody feet. There were quite a few cuts and a broken toe nail. He hadn't even felt it as he had been running to get his sister the help she needed. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him. The magic teased over him like a long lost friend. It made something in him that had been sleeping for a long time, suddenly sit up and pay attention. He knew the feeling of this magic, had felt it quite often when Noctis had been made to practice his elemancy, even if he had never been connected to it like a proper Shield should be...

He jerked upwards. By now the magic had turned into a bright supernova with the young man and his sister at its centre. It couldn't be.

“Noctis”, he breathed, stunned.

He stood there, frozen and having no idea what he should do. This couldn't be possible. He had searched for his prince high and low and the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive both had searched outside of Insomnia. If Noctis was still in the city and not dead they should have heard something by now. Shouldn't they?

On the other hand there clearly were people down here. Gladio hadn't even known that this place existed, and it was part of his job to know about the city's layout. It would also explain how Healer had magic. But why hadn't he recognized him then? He knew what the prince looked like! Then again, Healer had long hair and what he had thought were tattoos covering a large part of his body, including his face. And even if it turned out that Healer wasn't Noctis – which became more and more likely the longer he thought about it – this was a place he could potentially be, because no one had ever thought to look.

Had Noctis hidden here this whole time?

Why?

As if he had been heard, Healer opened his eyes. Even in the bright light of the magic they glowed like a pair of newborn stars. Gladio had to look away. White spots danced in front of his eyes. A high pitched whine sounded from where the door was located.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the pulsing light became weaker, the pressure of powerful magic in the air grew lighter. With each new wave it retreated further and further, like the changing of the tides until it was mostly gone.

The black splotches on Iris' skin had turned into mere shadows beneath skin still pale from sickness. There was a bit of colour in her cheeks now.

Healer's hands retreated and the last of the glow died, leaving the room in a strange half light until Gladio's eyes had adjusted again. Only the black lines on Healer's skin still gave off a dim iridescence, and Gladio swore there was a new one slashing across his cheek close to the nose. It made the impression that the man's humanity was nothing but a thin veil that could be ripped away to show what really lay beneath at any time. And wasn't that disconcerting?

Reluctantly, like he needed to remind himself how to move his limbs, he stood up and carelessly let the blanket Gladio had carried Iris in, fall to the floor, before taking up the one the teenager had brought in and spread it over Iris' still sleeping form. His breath came in quick bursts and he was covered in sweat like he had just completed a taxing workout. With a quiet groan he stood up straight. Finally the shimmer beneath his skin was completely gone.

“Fuck. Ah think ah overdid it”, he mumbled barely loud enough for Gladio to hear.

“You can say that again, my dear nephew. Please warn an old man the next time you want to set off the magical equivalent to a Nifasi firebomb. It would be much appreciated. You can never be sure of the consequences otherwise”, stated the red haired man before Gladio could even think to open his mouth.

There was a caution in Healer's gaze as he nodded, that set Gladio's teeth on edge and made him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably the guy who used a cane exactly the same way his King did but moved like a was an actor playing out a drama.

“Now, go downstairs to your wife, eat something and drink some of her truly amazing tea. You look like someone who dearly needs a break and some extra energy. I dare say, it's too early already to go back to sleep again. I will look after the girl for the time being. Do not worry, I have some experience in looking after the scourge sick and know what I'm doing”, he continued as if he hadn't seen Gladio's glower.

Which he clearly had.

Healer – who was quite possibly Noctis and Gladio wasn't really sure if he wanted him to be or not – just rolled his eyes, but he took a step towards the door before he stopped and turned towards him, a guarded look on his face.

“Come”, he mumbled. “We need tah talk, and best do it now.”

Gladio didn't say anything as he followed Healer through the still mostly dark house. To be honest, he had no idea what to say. For all the questions tumbling through his mind in a never ending whirlwind since he had first seen the young man.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to rage.

He wanted to shake the answers out of the man leading him down dark stairs.

But he didn't. If this whole mess had taught him one thing, it was that raging at it all didn't help a thing. So he swallowed the anger hissing in his mind down and sat in the chair in the warmly lit kitchen he had been indicated to.

The kitchen was a large room that was clearly well lived in and cared for with a loving hand, if cluttered to a point where there was nearly no free space left. Despite the warm summer night there was a new fire burning in the hearth that was old enough to belong in a museum. It made the air near uncomfortable hot.

Most of the kitchen appliances looked like they belonged into the 5th century ME at least. Well, there was an electric tea kettle and a few other bibs and bobs that clearly belonged into the modern age of electricity. How could anybody live like that?

As he examined the kitchen he noticed the woman standing at the counter. She wasn't very tall with a thin face and very pale skin that contrasted heavily with her long black hair. Her big eyes were of a green that reminded him of shadowy forests outside Insomnia. The long and thin tunic she wore was of a russet colour and looked more like a nightgown to his eyes.

He knew her. It was the woman that he had met at the Black Saffron the day before yesterday. Well, three days ago by now, he supposed. What was her name again? Hiemi? Wait, so the little girl had been...

She came over towards the table with a tray in her hands upon which were three cups and a large pot that wouldn't be out of place in one of the historical romances he liked to read sometimes. Now that she stood next to Healer, who had been awkwardly hovering next to an empty chair, Gladio could see that she was a few centimetres taller than him. The woman gave Healer a chiding glance that lost its bite with the fondly exasperated tilt of her smile.

“Yah overdid it”, she stated.

“Ah know”, he murmured and gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Ah'm sorry.”

“No, yah're not. Now sit down and introduce me so tha' we can have this talk b'fore we've gotta go t' work.”

And Healer did just that.

He gave her hip a gentle squeeze and sat down on the chair across from Gladio while the woman served the tea and then sat down herself. There were a few beats of awkward silence before Healer cleared his throat and introduced the woman next to him.

“Gladio, may ah introduce to yah Hiemi, Dame of this household and mah wife. Hiemi, this's Gladio.” He hesitated, as if he wasn't quite sure how to continue.

Before he could make up his mind about it, Gladio interrupted him: “What in the name of Pitioss' cursed depths were you thinking, Noctis?!”

The young man flinched, his fingers dug into the wooed tabletop until his knuckles turned white and his mouth fell open with no sound escaping him.

In the warm light of the kitchen it had become very clear to Gladio that this Healer was in fact Noctis, despite all the changes. The facial structure practically screamed Lucis Caelum. There was also the magic – magic he had never seen or heard of before – and the fact that he knew his and Iris' name.

“Where the fuck have you been? Do you know how worried your father was? Still is, to this day? Do you know how the nobles are hounding him to produce another heir? He keeps refusing out of love for you and the late Queen and you sit here, healthy and alive, and play house! The King still hopes that you're alive and well, that you're coming home one day. Do you know what your actions did to Ignis? To Iris? To me? Do you-”

By the end he had been nearly screaming, ready to lunge across the table and beat some sense into his prince. If he even deserved that title anymore. But suddenly he was frozen in place. The words tumbling out of his mouth, halted on his tongue and his muscles refused to move. It was like time around him had been halted but everywhere else it moved forward like it always did. He couldn't even blink as he looked at the two people across from him.

Noctis had grown even paler than he already was, hunching his shoulders and shrinking into himself. Hiemi, the woman he had introduced as his wife – and wasn't that a whole other can of worms – was another story. Her eyes were blazing in fury as she rose from her chair, one arm held out in his direction. Around her wrist and along her forearm danced smoky grey chains. Sparks of green and yellow jumped between the individual links.

“Don't yah dare.” She hissed, her face contorted into a sneer. “Don't yah think he knows tha'? Mah husband knows the consequences of his actions quite well, knave Gladiolus. Yah bet there's a damn good reason for it, do yah understand me?”

“Hiemi”, Noctis said in a tone that was barely more than a whisper. At once her attention was on him. “Let him go, please. It's fine.”

“It damn well isn't, and yah know it! Shield or not, friend or not, he can't jus' walk in here and treat yah like this. Healer. Noctis. It's not yahr fault. Yah couldn't 've done anything different. Not with Him watching.”

Gladio listened with growing concern. What was she talking about? Who was this Him? The way he said it he couldn't be a nice guy. Noctis made a keening noise so full of old hurt and fear and guilt that Galdio would have recoiled, if he were able. The prince pressed his face into her abdomen, his hands grasped at the cloth of her tunic and his shoulders shook as if he was crying. She didn't say anything but carded her hands through his long, tangled hair with a tender expression on her face. Gladio dearly wanted to look away, shaken to his core at the scene before him.

“Ssshhhh”, made Hiemi and continued to pet Noctis' hair until he pulled away.

The prince's eyes were thankfully dry and he didn't look quite as much as an anak caught in the headlights anymore. His wife pressed his cup of tea into his hands and he took a sip. And then another, the action calming him down further.

“Now”, she said, her tone brooking no argument, “we're all going tah sit down and talk like the adults we all are. Am ah clear?”

Here she looked sternly at Gladio who still couldn't move. He wished he could point that out to her.

“Mah life, yah need tah take off the spell first”, Noctis reminded her with an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Due to her pale skin, the redness in her cheeks was very noticeable as she cancelled whatever she had done with one last warning look towards him. The chains around her forearm vanished. He carefully flexed his fingers and shifted his weight, to see if everything was back in working order, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and waited for either of the two to speak first. Their short exchange had made it clear that there was more going on than he had thought – than anyone had thought – and he wanted to know what it was.

It was Noctis who started the conversation again.

“Tha' night in tha' alleyway ah was scared shitless, Gladio, and it wasn't because of tha' old drunk with the broken bottle.”

“What in the name of Bahamut's blades happened to you?” asked Gladio and watched uncomprehending, as both of them flinched slightly.

“Please, don't say His name. Down here, He can't see me”, Noctis pleaded.

“What do you mean, down here He can't see you? Wait, the He you were referring to is-?”

Gladio swallowed down the name Bahamut, but the other two knew exactly who he meant. They nodded in unison.

“But why?”

He didn't understand this at all.

“The Bladed One's still one of the Six, one of the Astrals, but His standing, from what ah understand of what Healer told me, is more tha' of the Infernian up there”, answered Hiemi and motioned towards the ceiling.

Ignis would love this.

The sudden thought made Gladio realize that he needed to get the advisor in on this. Gladio himself was in over his head. But that was for later. Now...

“So Ba- the Bladed One is some kind of traitor, a malevolent deity? What does that have to do with why you're hiding in this dump?”

Both of them bristled at his words and Hiemi opened her mouth, clearly prepared to argue, but Noctis' hand on her shoulder held her back. She leaned backwards, still glaring at Gladio like he had insulted her personally.

“It's got everything tah do with it”, said Noctis. “Do yah know the stories of the Lucis Caelums tha' had a magic different from wha' was expected of them?”

Gladio hesitated. He tried to think of the old stories Noctis had liked to read in the archives, when he had been allowed down there, but none came to mind. It was strange, since this was the main reason he had started to like reading historical romance. Try as he might, he couldn't remember a single of those stories the young prince had liked to ramble about on occasion.

“I... cannot say I do, no”, he admitted, feeling strangely ashamed of it.

Noctis just sighed. “Tha's alrigh'. They've always ended violently, with the death of the Lucis Caelum in question, and more often than not with innocent bystanders dead. There're records of Kings killing their own children tah minimize the inevitable damage they'd cause if left tah live. Dad told me the last one left to live died when he collapsed a house on top of him, also killing the people within the building and most of the bystanders. Ah managed tah find records from the Founder's time, where King Somnus decreed in the Bladed One's name tha' every child not of black magic was Bad Faith.”

Gladio gave a quiet curse. He remembered now, the sordid stories Noctis had told and had given him a sour taste in his mouth every single time. The prince seemed to have noticed his discomfort at his retellings and had stopped them after some time. It hadn't stopped him from going into the archives, however.

All of a sudden he had a very bad feeling about this.

“Please tell me you aren't one of those cases, Noctis”, he all but begged, already knowing the answer to this.

Ruefully, the prince in hiding shook his head. “If he finds me it's only a question of time before something happens. Do yah understand? Ah can't go Up because for some reason we can't figure out, He can't find me here. As long as ah'm here nothing'll happen.”

“And what of the rest of Lucis? Should it fall into chaos, conquered by Nifelheim, because you were too much of a coward?”

Noctis pressed his lips into a thin line in displeasure. “And what would you have me do, Gladio? Wait for the dragon to kill me? I've wanted to just march up to the Citadel so many times, I've lost count. You have no idea how much it hurt to stay away from all of you.”

In his ire he was starting to lose that damn accent that had been starting to grate on Gladio.

“Stop!” thundered Hiemi before the argument could escalate any further, her presence backed up by the feeling of powerful magic. “We've been talking abou' contacting His Royal Majesty for some time now. 'Specially in the last few days. The children've been excited ever since they heard we've been considering it. Healer, ah think it's abou' time we finally did it.”

“I... yes”, he relented after a few moments of silence. “It's abou' time.”

[svucarisiaddict]

How about Peter and the reader being really good friends and flirting a bit and they’ve made out drunkenly a few times but even though the reader told him she likes him when they were drunk, Peter didn’t do anything. Now they’re still friends and see each other every day but the reader found out that a mutual friend is trying to make a move so she gets mad and jealous and finally tries to convince Peter that they should be together

“There’s my favorite person!” Peter greeted you with a big smile and a kiss to your cheek. “How are you feeling this morning?”

Plopping down in the chair across the table for him you groaned. “Better than I should but still hung over.” Looking over your sunglasses at Peter you gave him a once over. “How do you look like this,” you said gesturing up and down, “and I look like this?” Yoga pants, oversized sweatshirt, messy bun, make up free with your biggest pair of sunglasses blocking the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Peter chuckled. “Never could hold your liquor.” He slid his coffee across the table. “That’s why I requested a late checkout.” Last night was a class reunion between your graduating law class in D.C. It was basically an excuse to get together and drink.

The coffee was just the way you like it; two cream, two sugar. Peter knew you better than anyone, including your family. It was a relief that he didn’t bring up what happened last night. It wasn’t the first time you and Peter had kissed or made out. Something came over you and you confessed your feelings to Peter. He thought you were drunk, which to be fair he was right, but you knew exactly what you were saying.

“Well I for one need some food,” you announced looking for a server.

“Already ordered for you. Belgian waffle, crisp bacon, and orange juice.” The server approached your table a few seconds later and put the plate of food in front of you.

Peter, of course, had a healthy breakfast consisting of fresh fruit, oatmeal, and greek yogurt.

“Thanks.” Taking off your sunglasses you tucked into your meal. “You are the only person that I have never experienced post order envy with,” you commented stabbing a bite of waffle, twirling it in the puddle of syrup.

“I promise you it doesn’t hurt to eat healthy, Y/N.” Peter licked the spoon that had been resting in the yogurt.

You paused mid-chew. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that was sexy. No. He’s your best friend since undergrad. Plus he obviously didn’t think of you in that way. You resumed chewing and swallowed the bite. “So it was good seeing everyone last night. Too bad we have to go back today. I was hoping to go to the Natural History Museum.”

“So we’ll stay another day,” he said nonchalantly. He knew you had been there countless times but still indulged you.  “Let’s see how Chitown did.” He picked up the paper opening it to the sports section to check the score of the Cubs game.

The next workday, Tori, a co-worker and mutual friend of Peter’s sat down at your desk. “How was the reunion?”

“It was a blast. So good to reconnect with everyone. Plus got to go to the Natural History Museum,” you said.

“You and Peter shared a room, right?” she asked.

Her question caught you off guard. “Uh, yeah. But it’s not like that between us.”

“Oh,” she replied then smiled. “Look at the time. I have a client in five minutes. See ya.”

“Bye.” You furrowed your brow. That was a weird exchange. Shaking your head you returned your attention to the deposition you had been reviewing.

“Y/N!” Peter called your name causes you to slow your gait for a fraction then resuming your original pace. He caught up with you in a couple long strides. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Pulling your keys from your handbag you pushed the button to unlock your car. You opened the back door tossing your briefcase on the back seat. “What did you need?” you brusquely asked.

Peter raised an eyebrow at your tone. “Well you seem to be dodging my calls, texts, emails, and when I see you in the halls you turn around or slink into another room. What gives?”

Two months ago Peter and Tori started dating. For the last one and a half months, you have been ignoring him. Was it the grown-up thing to do? No. But at that moment you weren’t feeling rational. “I’ve just been really busy with the new caseload.”

Peter scoffed. “Bullshit. We haven’t gone a day without some sort of communication no matter how busy we’ve been.”

“To be so smart you can so obtuse sometimes Peter.” You reached for the door handle but Peter halted your movement. “Let go of me,” you commanded narrowing your eyes at him.

Peter released your hand and stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you. Just please talk to me, Y/N. Please,” Peter pleaded. “I miss my best friend.”

“Why her? Why not me?” you asked your voice barely a whisper as you choked back tears.

His face read pure confusion. “Y/N. You’re my best friend. I-I’m sorry. I never met to hurt you…” his voice trailed off as he tried to comprehend.

“You honestly have nothing to apologize about. It’s all me. I’ve loved you for so long, Peter. But the only time I was able to confess to you was with the help of Jose Cuervo. And we both know that didn’t go very well,” you sniffled. You turned your tear-filled eyes up to him.

Peter was silent for several moments. He ran his fingers through his short, blonde hair. “You know I love you. From the day I met you I knew you would be one of the most important people in my life. And that hasn’t changed in all these years.”

“I sense a but,” you said wiping away tears from your cheek.

Peter sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, I just can’t. I love you too much to risk our friendship by being together. If things didn’t work out and I lost you I would lose myself,” he explained.

“I get it,” you said with a nod. Taking a deep breath you said, “sorry I’ve been ignoring you. I’ve missed you too.”

Peter pulled to his chest for a hug. He kissed the crown of your head. Your arms snaked around his waist. “What’s this I hear about you dating one of the detectives?”

“It was two dates. Besides, it’s not like I can sit around forever waiting on you,” you chided him.

Peter chuckled and squeezed you a little tighter. “Hope he’s good enough for you, Y/N because you deserve the absolute best.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. It was Peter that was the absolute best. It’ll take one hell of a man to measure up to Peter Stone. You knew your relationship with Peter would be different from here on out. But at least he was still in your life, even if it wasn’t the way you had hoped.

[jiwonsssi]

— worth it.

It's always difficult to stay sane in relationships. Especially if it's about Eun Jiwon.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (like a tiny attempt), swearing.

characters: Eun Jiwon, 'you'.

The thing is, Jiwon was never an easy task. To talk with, to work with, to live with, to date in general; he had always been able to find a topic to bicker about just as a part of his hobby. You were wondering everytime that happened; like, how one person can make so much noise? It's funny and cute most of the times; he didn't ever crossed a line. Never complaint about your cooking skills, or your clothes, style; appearance. Your way of life was also never a topic for his antics even when you were one hundred percent sure he had some troubles with accepting this or that.

He never meant to hurt you in any way; although he did. And it hurts like hell now. Because his 'I didn't say anything wrong' is the problem, not his words about something you don't even remember for now. Seeing you barely able to control tears and still continuing to step on what got you crying. He might be right a hundred times, but it didn't matter. It still doesn't and would never be. At least for you.

And when you leaved him, advising him to think about what he says, Jiwon was still sure that he did the right thing. He's really unpredictable sometimes, because heaven knows, it's the first time you realised just how stupid, stubborn and insensitive he could actually be.

So you didn't talk for, somehow, four days. And it broke your heart even more. He texted you once, but lowering your expectations and being okay with this treatment? Thank you, no. He's not busy now and you know it. And he knows where you are. It's not like he's not able to come to talk, to sort things out. At this point it's not about crying and complaining how he mistreated you and so on and so forth; it's about fighting him for greater good. Good old rage. At the first day, you cried like a bitch; fighting with him was never that harsh on you while you were never that sensitive. Just the whole situation, and stress, and him not paying attention to that. So if he would have been here then, it would be alright. You didn't even need his apologies, you just wanted to cry not in a pillow all alone, but in his shoulder. At the second day, you were a lot calmer. That's when the text happened and that 'you alright? im sorry' even made you uncertain in some way; but.. not so much. At the third day came alcohol and best friend, and they made everything so much easier. Maybe it helped because the whole evening you two were just playing games, without discussing anything. It surely cleared your head so now, at the forth day, you were certain in the fact that you want to show him just how angry you are.

- 'Im sorry', pff, you sure should be, - muttering it under your breath while trying to open the door in apartments when he lives, you tried to keep your mind clear. You really tried. But the thing is, you love him so much, that you totally not going to lose him over some fight when you two were just stressed out. And you love yourself enough to make him understand that that's not going to happen again.

- Why did you ignore me? - and here he stands, clearly just out of bed. It's not even a mid day, it's evening and he was sleeping. Not surprised. He looks like an angry bird with that messy hair and messed up shirt and pants. Yet you are here not to admire his sleepy cuteness.

- Hello, dear, - does your voice sound as pissed as you are? Kicking your shoes to the corner, you made your way past him. And he just continued staying in a doorway with his hands crossed on his chest and eyes scanning your every movement then following you into bedroom.

- Why? - he particulary screams this part, more like makes it long, loud and annoyed. He should be annoyed. Must be.

- That's all you have to say? - you continue almost throwing your papers in a document folder, trying your best to not to lose patience. And, somehow, cry. Out of anger and sadness, because now he's doing the same thing again and that shit hurts.

- Not really, - he comes closer, taking all of the documents from your hands and shaking it in front of your face, - But I don't think you are here to listen. Those fucking pieces of paper are the only things you care about!

- No, I-

- Shut up, please, I'm talking, - his tone is solid, serious and angry, and you barely saw him this worked up. But you still want to say what you have to say. Even tho he has rights to speak, - You know what I see most of the times when I come home? You, sleeping around the table or you, sleeping on a coach because you are so tired you barely able to walk to the bed. Am I right?

- Yeah, but..

- Still not finished, - he throws documents he holds to the floor, making it flowing in different directions and you want to kill him for that. You organized them for so long and he just threw it away like it was nothing. You don't realize how your face is changing because of it but he gets even more pissed, - See? You care more about work than about my speech. I told you one hundred, one million and billion times to stop overworking yourself. I believe in that you want to be the best, you want you career to be perfect, but I want you, only, fuck, only you, to be healthy.

You start to slowly realise what he is talking about. He's worrying about you. But yet still, there is a bubbling feeling in your chest you can't just forget about.

- And when you were hurt by my words, God, I wanted to comfort you more than anything, but you wouldn't understand any fucking thing because your brain only works when you are this angry, - he pokes your forehead with his finger and exhales slowly, closing his eyes, - I don't care about any of your achievements if you would continue killing yourself. I would never support that. And that's why I don't care about what you want to say, what excuse you want to make up. That's bullshit, I don't buy it, - Jiwon looks you directly in the eyes and the last time you saw him this serious.. you never had, to be honest, - And you can be angry with me for as long as you want to if that means you would understand what I mean.

Your anger has, well, just slightly calmed down. It's difficult to be angry when he is like that. You were lectured like a child and that's one of the very few times you felt his age authority. And he maybe even right. Pursuing your lips a little, you avoid his gaze for a few moments in order to put your thoughts together. You don't like being lectured and he's so calm now. And that is the most confusing about the whole fight. Does he really mean it? But!

- Aren't you trying to find more reasons to stay angry? It's all written on your face now, - Jiwon steps aside a little, stepping on one of the papers on the floor to test your limits. On his face. It's all written on his goddamned face.

- Stop it, - you move in his direction and he moves further back, making sure to stop on every fucking piece of every fucking document he finds on his way, - Stop!

- Then you stop taking extra work hours and bringing it home, - he puts special treatment to one of the contracts you were working on for the longest time and you know that you already ready to beg.

- But I can't! I need to, - you try to get on your knees to save maybe something, but give up on it when you see basically everything is damaged, - Oh fuck. I'm jobless now. God..

- I offered you a good deal without that shittyass boss who uses you like a conveyer, - paper cracks under him and you push oxygen out of your lungs with such a power that your head slightly spinning so you support your forehead with a palm. Jobless, for real.

Actually you don't know why are you not upset about it.

- I can't take it.

- Because it's a good deal? How thoughtful and logical, I love a smart girl!

- Shut up, you! - you throw a paper at him. Now he just annoys you. No anger. Pure hate.

- Get ready to a cheesy line, - he smirks and you roll your eyes fully aware of what he's going to say, - Make me.

And you do. You crash your lips on his, feeling his hands on your waist momentary. He pulls your incredibly close, enough for your sides to ache slightly in places he touches you.

- I missed you, - he murmurs into your lips, pushing you slightly to the bed until your legs touch it's border, without breaking constant contact between your bodiesand lips. You can tell that he smoked by the strong smell of cigarettes and bitter taste on the tip of your tongue. God, you love it.

- Me too, - biting his lower lip, you fully realise that is not going to be gentle. You can clearly see it in his eyes; he needs that stress to be gone. And you totally can relate.

You feel his lips moving down your neck, leaving small hickeys; the only thing he has patience to actually do. He's impatient and turned on; his hands are barely able to unzip your jeans but Jiwon does it with such a determination, you giggle.

And then he rips off the button, sucking on your skin so hard you jerk aside a little. No giggling. Understood.

- That was new and I'm jobless now. So, would you be my sugar daddy? That's what you wanted all along? - somehow you find a strenght to tease while feeling your head spinning when he pushes you to the bed. His face is priceless tho.

- You need to earn it, babygirl, - he smirks, looking at you from the top and slapping your tight roughly. You are not into that daddy thing and he never ever called you like that, but Jesus fucking Christ, that was hot as hell.

Jiwon takes off a shirt, when you particularly jump out of your pants and hoody. Now it's his time to smile because the determination on your face is precious.

Sex always starts with the hot, rough vibe and in the end you find him smiling like that and there is no way you can keep that mood.

- Jiwon, please, - you move closer to him, pushing your thighs into him, feeling his erection against your hip. Jiwon lets his hands roam your body, stopping near every damn piece of underwear you have on yourself and that's just rude.

- I thought it 'daddy' now, - he pushes his pelvis harder between your legs, making you squeak in front of him at the sudden friction. It's obvious that he's kidding, it's all in his shit-eating grin. Unbearable.

- You wish, old man, - you get on your elbows, before he's able to do anything, to grab him by the neck for a kiss. Sometimes he really needs to keep his mouth shut and that's the best way to do it. The kiss sends you on fire, he's crashing you against his body with full force, one of hands snake your waist firmly and other squeezes your ass to give it another light slap. You squirm, digging your nails into his shoulders and moan into the kiss, feeling him smirking.

- So you have a thing for old men then? - you basically roar with anger, tugging on his hair so hard, he hisses and slaps you harder this time. Almost a year of relationships with him taught you that it's better to just shup up now so you won't end up bickering for an hour.

He puts you on the bed again, after striping you out of your bra, howering on top and places short wet kisses everywhere he can manage to reach. You try your best to not to squirm like crazy, but fail obviously. With him grinding against you core, you're not sure how much longer you can wait. The feeling of him against your body is like addiction; addicting euphoria of which you would never be able to get rid of.

You've been angry with him for so long, yet now it's impossible to fight with him. You are gone for; surrendered without a battle. Cause you love him like that. Jiwon looks incredibly hot when he's serious and concentrated. You would never confess it to him; but his dominant side might have you on your knees, pleading for him, in seconds. He didn't even need to do anything.

He takes off your panties and you grasp on bed sheets with a loud moan when he's pushing one finger inside, adding the second right after, making you lose your breath for a while. He moves his hand fast, gently pinching one of your nipples with another, kissing that place right after. There is not a single thought in your head; just him. His lips, when he kisses you, swallowing small noises you make and the way he's circling your clit with his thumb. He builds sexual frustration in you methodical, knowing for sure what to do to make you cum. And he's extremely generous today.

Jiwon is quick to make his way down your body to settle between your legs. You don't fully realise what happened when you feel his tongue instead of his thumb, sucking you harshly, just the way you liked it. He brings you just what you need, just the way you like it. Tangling fingers in his hair, you push him closer, not caring to control your actions. As well as moans and everything else. Because, damn, he's tongue can send you on edge; in every way possible.

He curls his fingers, continuously pumping the same spot and you are done for in a moment. Feeling every nerve and muscle in your nody being tensed with anticipation, relief comes upon like a blessing and even tho Jiwon guiding you through your orgasm, you so fucking lost, you don't understand where you are for a second.

You feel him pulling away, mewling something at the loss of him and touches on extra sensitive skin. And he buries his head in a crook of your neck, placing small kisses over and over again while you try to calm your erratic breathing.

- Another one for me. Please, - his voice is so tensed, low, he particularly grunts it to your ear, kissing it gently, while lowering his pants and boxers, - Okay?

It's not like you are able to answer him when your head is still spinning anyway. He receives a shaky nod from you, kissing your lips shortly and furrows his brows, lining himself between your folds. You let a long, high-pitched sound escape on top of your lungs when you feel it; and you hear him sucking on his breath, pressing your foreheads together.

- Look at me, - you mess his hair even more and look him in the eyes; he is so beautiful. Just like that. Messy hair, sticking to his skin because of sweat and how he's worked up; how his lips parting slightly and brows furrows when he slides himself into you. And that pure bliss on his face when he starts moving inside. He feels amazing; God, the best you have ever felt.

And he thinks the absolute same about you.

Jiwon's heavy hot breathes stuck on your lips, you digging your nails in his shoulders lightly, when you feel the coiling in your stomach starts to boil exponentially all over again. Especially when he pulls you into erratic kiss, chasing your small moans with his lips. He's so hot, his skin radiates the warmth you are so used to, but now you feel like burning, when trapped beneath him. Jiwon still smells like cigarettes, slight aroma of his perfume that is imprinted on his skin now and something that you can't describe. Something, that makes him Jiwon you love; and being drowning in his scent, while he steadily pounds into you, murmuring something that you can't even understand - you wouldn't change it for anything.

You place a kiss under his jaw, right below his ear, fully aware of what it does to him. You feel chills running down your spine when he fastens the pace, squeezing your hip harder. You can't last forever, every brush against your extra sensitive now skin makes you squirm and he continues to brush that particular spot with his tip.

But never uncomfortable. He gave it to you nicely the first time, now he tortures you again. That's just how he likes you - when you are on the edge, but not able to do anything. He craves for your moans, for seeing you going crazy beneath him, for how you bite your lip or scratch his spine with your nails. He loves you like that. Like nothing in the world.

But he loves you better when you lose it. When your toes curl and you shut your eyes tightly, holding your breath for seconds while he thrusts into you harder, faster and you hold on him for dear life, releasing that one loud moan of relief in the end.

And he mixes it with his pleasure, when you kiss right below his lower lip; so gently, delicate while you pulse around him and squeeze him so tight it hurts and when releases deep inside, thrusting in you forcefully, losing his control.

That's how he likes it the best.

Hell, he could fuck you for hours. If he wasn't so exhausted after.

Because even containing himself and pushing himself off you, it's hella amount of work for which he has no strength.

- I love you, - you murmur it quietly in his temple, turning your head a little, because he just burrowed his face in your neck to calm down.

- Me too, - his voice sharp and raspy, he lifts his head up a little, kissing the tip of your nose and his smile is incredible. It's amazing how he changes after sex. Everytime. He just smiles fully yet so tender, looking at you with full adoration; you could forgive him everything. His kisses are so light you barely feel it, Jiwon leaves a kiss everywhere he sees a hickey and hugs you so delicate like you are made of glass.

- I missed you, - you giggle, when he blows on your neck and looks up at you, rolling to the side to pull himself out, - How are you able to be so sweet? That's impossible.

- You are always free to check that. Just saying, - he laughs, seeing your firstly confused than hella 'not disappointed and not surprised' face and pulls you into a bear hug, showering you with kisses so he could make you smile again.

Every nerve you lost on him is worth it.