#brain interpretted this as an intruder was in the room with me

[master-gatherer]

Had my first run in with the sleep paralysis demon so no overtime for me ¯⁠\⁠(⁠◉⁠‿⁠◉⁠)⁠/⁠¯

[holdmytesseract]

One Night or Forever?

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When one thing leads to another, you and Daryl spend a passionate night together at the CDC. Unfortunately, neither of you is interpreting the signals right afterwards...

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! smut (not entirely graphic, but it's definitely there - like, you know exactly what's going on), uhhh sub and dom Daryl? unprotected rough-ish sex? Daryl gets a bj (yes, you read that right), he's a bit mean, too - but also a cutie patootie, uhh slight angst? bit of drama, alcohol - drunk-ish Daryl and tipsy reader, fluff, swear words, bickering

Set in Season 1!

Word Count: 4,5k

a/n: You want it, you got it, friends. I don't know what this is, though - or which demons possessed me as I wrote it. I really don't. I also don't know how I should feel about it. Embarrassed? Proud? Send help, lol.

Anyways, I hope you like this! Please go easy on me. Smut isn't really my forte...

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Booyah!"

Daryl's toast had been the starting shot for an evening full of conversation, fun, laughter - and alcohol. Some would say reams of alcohol. Wine, booze, beer - you and the group stopped at nothing. That was probably the reason why everyone staggered somewhere on a scale between tipsy and shit faced drunk at the end of the evening.

You were currently on your way to your personal room - something you'd describe as a luxury. Sure, back at the quarry you had your own tent, but there was a huge difference between that and a whole goddamn room. With a own freaking shower! It was crazy. Who would've thought that something so plain and simple would become such a valued, precious thing? Most likely nobody, because it was something taken for granted.

Well... Not anymore. Not since the world went to shit.

After passing a very drunk Glenn on the way, you more or less stumbled into your room. Tipsy... You were definitely tipsy. Without a single care in the world, you started to shed your clothes the moment the door shut close behind you. All you wanted to do was sleep. You had too much alcohol coursing through your veins to search for something you could use as a pyjama. You hadn't a problem with sleeping naked. Not tonight.

Unfortunately had your plan a catch... One that you weren't aware of yet.

This wasn't your room.

You were just about to free your body of the last piece of fabric you were wearing - a pair of admittedly beautiful dark blue lace panties, when a sudden voice managed to almost send you into cardiac arrest.

"Wha' the fuck 'r ya doin' in my room?!"

You startled so bad, that you almost lost balance and fell flat on your ass. Your balance was a bit off-track anyways, due to the wine...

With wide eyes you turned around to face the intruder.

"Daryl?"

You blinked. "What are you doing here?" He scoffed; his cheeks puffed out and reddened. He had been drinking way more than you did, and it showed. The archer's hands were fumbling clumsily with the fly of his jeans. "Jus' been taken a damn piss, 'n 'm comin' back to find ya standin' in my room." You crossed your arms over your bare - an information which hadn't reached Daryl's brain yet - chest. "This is clearly my room, Dixon." He scoffed again. "'S not!" "Yes, it is!" "'S not!" The man took a few wobbly steps closer. "Go bullshit someone else, I-" He stopped abruptly in the middle of his sentence; eyes widening to the size of plates. Now the information had been received and processed.

"Yer almost naked," he stated; bluntly staring.

Oh, you suddenly realised and remembered as well. He was right.

In any other situation, you'd have frantically tried to cover yourself up and perhaps even threw an insult at the man standing across from you, but the alcohol lowered your boundary of shame and loosened you up; making you see things more relaxed.

You huffed out a breath. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Daryl still blinked and tried very hard to not let his eyes drop, but that was an almost impossible task for the alcoholized man. "Why?" You shrugged your shoulders. "'Cause I wanted to go to sleep." The archer swallowed hard. "In my room? Naked? Ya lost yer damn mind, woman?" "It's my room," your tipsy self was still profoundly convinced, while you made your way over to the bed on slightly wobbly legs. Daryl just watched you; flabbergasted, speechless, shocked - and incredibly turned on. After all, he had a damn pretty woman in his room - no, bed. Half naked!

"You could join me, Dixon." He scoffed again and tried to walk in a straight line over to the armchair; accepting his fate. "In yer damn dreams. 'S ain't gonna help me - or my hard-on." You giggled at his words like a schoolgirl and rolled around in the sheets. "That the reason why you can't get that zipper up? You like me, Daryl? Like what you see?" You pestered him with questions; smirking, and watched his cheeks redden even more - if that was physically possible and your eyes didn't betray you. "Shuddup," Daryl just growled in response. You giggled again, before a long beat of silence passed between the both of you.

The alcohol didn't just lower your boundary of shame... It also caused you to become bolder. "I could help you with that, you know..." You tried to sound as flirty and seductive as possible and turned in the sheets once more, but now to face the man sitting across from the bed. You perched yourself onto your stomach and crossed your ankles in the air; swaying your legs.

Gods, you felt like a teenager again. Damn the alcohol and your crush on the archer. It was a dangerous combination, since you hadn't planned to actually act on said crush. Well, and here you were now in his - nu.uh, your - bed, almost naked and trying to seduce him.

Some might say this escalated quickly...

"Help me with wha'?" The archer finally responded after a long moment; dumbfounded. His usually very smart and witty brain slowed down by the alcohol. You thought for a hot minute that he had already fallen asleep on you. You rolled your eyes and groaned - acting like Daryl just said the stupidest thing in the world. "Your boner," you deadpanned - as if it was the most normal thing to say.

The archer swallowed hard; feeling his chest (and pants) tightening.

"Wha'?" He crooked out. The normally so talkative, glibly redneck seemingly rendered speechless by your boldness.

Once again, you rolled your eyes. "Do you reaaaaally want me to spell it out for you, D?" Daryl clearly needed a moment to recover, but once he did, he scoffed.

"Pf, yer bluffin'."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, ya 'r."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, ya 'r. Can tell. Yer way to innocent fer shit like tha', sunshine."

"Are you challenging me, Dixon?"

"Nah, jus' statin' facts."

Now you were the one who scoffed. He really asked for it, didn't he? You smirked and hid your face in the blanket beneath you. Oh, you were so going to prove him wrong.

You rolled your barely covered body around a third time, but this time to get up from the bed - which was a much more difficult task than expected, but you made it in the end - even though not gracefully and certainly not seductively. "Facts, huh?" You asked the crossbow-wielding archer then with a raised eyebrow and your hands on your hips. He crossed his arms over his plaid beige-brown shirt clad chest; bare forearms and biceps bulging with the movement. "Yes, facts." Although he stared into your eyes with his blue coloured irises, he still had a hard time for them to actually stay on your face.

"Well, you can go screw your opinions - or me. Your choice, pretty boy," you stated and shrugged your shoulders as you bridged the short distance between the bed and the armchair. Before the younger Dixon could even do as much as open his mouth for a snarky respond, you had dropped to your knees in front of him - between his manspread legs.

Daryl's eyes widened and his jaw slacked. "Wha' 'r ya doin'?!" He literally screeched and gripped the armrests of the armchair. "Proofing you wrong, pretty boy." You smiled up at him like a Cheshire cat; hands and fingers clumsily trying to open his jeans. "F-Fuckin' hell, wha'?! Yer insane, woman!" The archer cursed above you, but also didn't make any moves to stop you. So, you took that as a sign to continue. And continuing you did...

It took you a hot minute to get your eye-hand coordination straight and overcome the obstacles which were his jeans and boxers, but once you did, there was no holding back. "Ya really gonna do th- F-Fuck..."

You did.

"Told you, Dixon," you stated with a mischievous glimmer in your eyes; hands firmly cupping him. Daryl answered nothing. The archer had a hard time to control his breathing and rapidly beating heart. He was still gripping the armrests like a vice - his knuckles already turning white. He really couldn't believe this was happening right now. Was he asleep and dreaming? Was he hallucinating? Did the wine manage to fog up his brain so much that his eyes were deceiving him? But when he felt your lips wrap around him, he instantly threw all those thoughts overboard again. This was real. It had to be real. After all, he was feeling it, right?

"F-Fuckin' hell," he cursed again; feeling waves of pleasure crash over him. One of his hands loosened its grip on the armrest and went in your hair instead - tying your loose hair into a makeshift ponytail. You were already too far gone to care; the taste of him addictive.

Working your magic, you tried to grant the man above you as much pleasure as possible - and it seemed to work. Within a few minutes, Daryl was a whimpering mess - a side you'd never thought you were ever going to see of him. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Ain't... Ain't g-gonna last," the archer panted breathlessly; the hand in your hair twitching. You didn't want him to. You wanted him to fall apart. A gentle squeeze of your hand was all it took. "Y-Y/N, damnit, 'm gon'- Gonna cu-" His sentence got interrupted by a low moan that paved its way to the forefront of his lips. The hand in your hair twitched again as he attempted to pull you off him. You didn't let him, though, and easily dodged his lousy attempt. Instead, you helped him ride the wave. His thighs twitched; muscles tensing as his high crashed into him. Daryl felt like he had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler - but in the best way possible. It had been so long...

The gentle grip he had of your hair slackened; hand falling limply to his side. You lifted your head to look at him to witness his blissed-out state. Daryl's eyes were closed, and his breathing laboured. You smiled; hands gently caressing his clothed thighs. "You believe me now, D?" He gave you a mere nod. Clearly he needed another few moments to get his head straight again. Your smile never ceased as you kept up your fingers movements. Your knees protested by now, but you didn't care.

Another few moments passed, before the archer peeled his eyes open again. Seeing you still on your knees for him managed to send another shockwave of arousal throughout his entire body.

Wide-blown eyes stared at you intensely; the gears turning in his fogged up head.

"T-Thanks, I guess," he whispered then. His voice was still hoarse. You smiled up at him. "You're welcome, pretty boy. Said I'm gonna help you." Daryl nodded almost shyly and clumsily stuffed himself back inside his boxers. You eyed him thoroughly and started to giggle. "Didn't think you'd loose it so fast. Wouldn't have pecked you to be a... premature guy." Not that it mattered to you, but you couldn't help yourself but to tease him a bit. It was meant to be a playful comment, but you seemed to hit a sore spot...

You could practically see how his eyes darkened, before he narrowed them. "Whatcha say, huh?" He asked in a gruff voice and stood up; towering over you. You blinked - were a bit taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanour. "I-I, uh... Said I didn't think you'd be one t-to, uh, come too early..." The archer growled under his breath. "Ya better watch yer mouth, sunshine," he said in a threatening tone and grabbed your arms to pull you up on your feet. Daryl quickly noticed, though, that his legs were even more wobbly now that they've already been before; forcing him to take cautious steps. "What are we doing, pretty boy? You gonna make me pay for saying that?" You gave another sassy remark; provoking him and tickling his nerve ends even further. A grunt passed his chapped lips as he dragged you with him. Once close to the bed, he wrapped his arms firmly around your bare midsection and literally threw you onto the bed - wobbly legs be damned. You giggled at his eagerness and slid upwards to rest your head on one of the pillows; giving the man a confident look. "C'mon then, pretty boy, show me what you got. I know you want to." He scoffed and crawled on the bed. "Pretty boy my ass." You just giggled again. You felt intoxicated by the wine you had consumed and definitely aroused - which got only worse when you felt calloused, deft hands gripping your delicate skin. Daryl parted your legs and settled on his knees between them. His eyes were directed on your face. He looked like a predator - ready to attack his prey. It was incredibly hot.

"'M gonna shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers, just ya wait," he growled in a deep voice, and wrapped his arms and hands around your thighs like a snake - holding them firmly and simultaneously keeping you splayed open for him, before he literally yanked you down; bringing your hips closer to his.

Your breath hitched in your throat at his sudden movement and the upcoming anticipation.

His fingertips danced over the skin on your hips then - and suddenly got your dark blue lace panties ripped into shreds.

"Daryl!" You shrieked, then gasped. "Those were my favourites, I-" "'S jus' a damn piece 'a fabric. Dun be such a crybaby," he interrupted you; instantly putting you in your place. Your mouth clapped shut. This was yet another new side of him. Sure, you knew he was hotheaded, but he literally just went from kinda submissive to dominant within the blink of an eye. Was it the alcohol? Or truly his temper?

The clinking of his belt ripped you out of your thoughts. Some shuffling and the rustling of fabric was the only premonition you got, before you felt him against your hot and pulsating center. Your hips instantly bucked; trying to get closer.

More friction.

More pleasure.

More of Daryl.

The archer hovering above you scoffed. "Look how needy ya are. Dun even hafta prepare ya." You could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. "Tis all jus' from gettin' me off, huh?" You nodded and bit your lip. Daryl on the contrary shook his head, "Yer tha' desperate? Pf... Pathetic." and lined himself up, before hitting home.

Stars exploded in front of your eyes as his hips met yours. The most sinful moan the archer had ever heard in his life slipped past your lips; only spurring him on more. He picked up a firm, steady pace - leaving you a mess beneath him barely within a few minutes. Just what you did to him.

Revenge was sweet, wasn't it?

His precise, powerful thrusts carried you from one high to the next - and Daryl enjoyed it. He loved to see you fall apart beneath him. And this time, he was the one lasting longer. "Who's commin' too soon now, huh? 'S not me, sunshine. Told ya I'd shut tha' sassy mouth 'a yers," he growled lowly; slowing his pace to just give you a few moments of recovery. You moaned at the sheer endless pleasure he granted you. Your hands gripped his thick arms like a vice after he had planted both palms firmly in the mattress beside your head to gain more leverage. "F-Fuck, Daryl," you whimpered; fingernails digging into his sweaty biceps. "I know. Jus' one more, 'kay? Can ya give me one more?" You nodded wordlessly. "Good girl," the archer praised and picked up his speed once again; pulling another sweet moan alongside some incoherent noises from you.

Your hands travelled. They left his arms to rest on his chest, where they fisted the fabric of his plaid shirt with the ripped off sleeves. The fabric held a darkened stain - a puddle of sweat formed on his chest.

Your hands continued to fist his shirt, as you pulled - an attempt to undo a few buttons. But once the archer noticed what your mission was, he stopped dead in his movements. "Nah, dun do tha'," he scolded you instantly and peeled your hands away from the fabric covering his upper body. "W-Why?" You asked breathlessly; not understanding his sudden mood shift. "'"Cause I told ya to!" He snapped.

Just in that moment, you realised that you must've hit another sore spot... But this time one that actually seemed to get to him. Not one that managed to turn him on.

"S-Sorry, D-Daryl, I-" You immediately apologised, but got interrupted once more. "Keep holdin' on ta my arms, if yer need sum'thin' to hold on to." His voice was gruff, but way more soft than a few moments ago. The archer redirected your hands and placed them once more around his sweaty biceps. Without another word, he continued where he left off, causing your grip to instantly tighten. "There ya go," he praised you again and readjusted your legs with his thighs. Just the slight change of angle was enough to send you a third time over the edge. This time, though, you dragged him right with you.

A broken sound - close to a cry, left the man's lips as he pulled out and coated the supple skin of your stomach with his release. A single droplet of sweat rolled down his neck as he threw his head back in ecstasy. It was a sight to behold. A sight you might never forget for the rest of your life - no matter how long your life was going to be.

A few moments later collapsed Daryl on the mattress beside you. He was clearly spent. Perhaps this had been something you both needed. Who knew?

"Imma take a shower," the archer announced after a while and left the bed - but not before gentleman-like wiping the mess he made on your stomach away with his hand. Without another word, he left, while you just laid there - still naked and staring at the ceiling; recalling in your mind what just happened. The sex managed to sober you up a bit. Did that really just happen? Had you been dreaming this?

You heard the water run, but not how Daryl returned to the room and settled down for the night in the armchair. You had ventured off to dreamland at some point.

To say the next morning was awkward was an absolute understatement. Awkward was not even remotely enough to describe the vibe between the both of you.

When you woke up again, the archer was nowhere to be seen. Now sober, you left the bed, picked up your clothes, noticed that you truly were - in fact in his room, and tiptoed butt naked down the hallway into your room. Luckily nobody had seen you. That would've been scandalous, right?

Your luck was also that everybody was quite hungover from last night. Some more, some less. Therefore noticed nobody the way you and Daryl acted around each other.

You could barely manage to look into his eyes.

You felt ashamed; thinking that you pushed him too far yesterday night. Thinking, that you were too bold and unable to control your damn feelings. Thinking that you pushed him away, instead of drawing him in. You anticipated that the archer must hate you now - and you couldn't even blame him...

Nevertheless seemed a conversation inevitable. You didn't want to destroy the friendship - if you could even call it that - the both of you had before last night.

It took you days to bite the bullet and ask him to talk, though. Sure, you had been on the road again since the CDC was a dead end, but that wasn't an excuse in your eyes.

"D-Daryl?" You approached him cautiously as you found him alone in the stables of the Greene farm; saddling a horse to go looking for Sophia. "Whatcha want?" He asked you and gave you a short look. You swallowed nervously. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" "'Bout wha'?" You watched him work for a moment, while your fingers fumbled with the hem of your t-shirt; trying to gather all the courage you could find. "That, uh, night at the CDC..." Your words came out as a whisper, but Daryl heard them nonetheless - and froze in all his tracks.

"Why'd ya wanna talk 'bout tha'?" He asked nonchalantly after a beat of silence and continued his work; had seemingly shaken off the small 'shock' quite quick. "I-I..." You started and sighed. "Things f-feel so weird between us since that n-night, and... I don't want that. I-I'm sorry for what I did. I'm s-sorry for making you sleep with me." Your eyes were stuck on him. You watched him and tried to gauge his reaction - afraid of what was going to happen.

"Yer sorry 'bout it?" Daryl asked then - almost in disbelief. Then he scoffed. "Do ya regret it?"

That was a question you didn't see coming. A question you haven't thought about yet. Did you regret it? Your memories took you back in time; letting you relive that night you shared with him. The answer was clear - as you quickly discovered.

"No, I don't, but... It was wrong. I shouldn't have-" "Wrong?" He interrupted you. His voice appalled. "Tha's what ya think 'bout this? 'Bout... us?" Daryl accused you with a grimace on his face. Was that... sadness you could detect in his blue orbs? Hurt?

You blinked; "U-Us?" were definitely confused by his words. "W-What do you mean 'us'?" "Ya know wha' I mean, Y/N." You shook your head. "No, Daryl. No, I don't. We've been practically ignoring each other since the CDC. We can't even talk properly! Neither of us can look into the other's eyes! Everything is just... weird, and you talk about an 'us'? No, I don't get it. Tell me. Explain it."

A frustrated huff left the archer's lips, before he started to gnaw at the pad of his thumb; averting your eyes. All of a sudden, the usually so confident redneck became all shy and insecure. "Dunno how," he started; merely shrugging his shoulders. "'S difficult, 'n I ain't good with words." "Try it, D," you encouraged him and gave him a soft smile. "Please. I want to make things right between us again." The archer nodded and took another moment - most likely to gather his thoughts. "'S tha' feeling, ya know? Can't pin it down. Always feelin' so strange whenever yer close to me."

Your heart skipped more than just one beat as his words urged to your ears. Could it be...? No...

"W-What do you feel? Can you... describe it?" Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground. The little stone laying beside his left foot suddenly became really interesting. "Jus' strange. Gets harder to breathe, 'n... My stomach's all messed up. Feels like an itch I can't scratch." You couldn't believe this was happening. Did that night cause Daryl to fall in love with you? "You're doing good, D. Keep going. What else?" You had to know.

He grunted; his foot playing with that little stone, before kicking it aimlessly over the concrete ground. "I... always go back to tha' night in my head. Can't forget it. Yer look. Yer touch. The way ya felt, I-" He stopped himself to take a deep breath. And you smiled. Perhaps having slept with him hadn't been a mistake. Perhaps you interpreted his behaviour wrong. Perhaps you just misread the signs...

"I jus' dunno how to act 'round ya. I dunno wha's happening to me. Tha's why I ain't talkin' to ya. Didn't mean to ignore ya..." Daryl apologised with his head still lowered.

You stepped closer to him and cautiously reached for his hand. He flinched, but didn't pull away. "Daryl, I... I think I know what happened to you," you whispered. "'N wha's tha'?" He asked; finally brave enough to lift his head to look into your eyes. You smiled and squeezed his hand. "I think you... are in love."

As quick as the man had lowered his guard, as quick was it up again.

He pulled his hand out of your grasp and scoffed, before he took a few steps back. "Pf. Love? Me? Tha's ridiculous, woman - 'n we both know it!" "Is it, yeah? You really think so?" "Yes!" He yelled, and wanted to rush past you - but you stopped him with your palm splayed on his chest. You didn't know if what your heart made you do was a wise decision, but it acted on its own will. Your head was powerless anyway.

Daryl's eyes travelled from yours to the hand on his chest and back. "Whatcha doin', woman?! Leave me the hell alo-" You had heard enough. You had held yourself back long enough. This was the only option you had left. It was do or die.

You cut the man off with standing on your tiptoes and connecting your lips to his. It was a chaste, gentle kiss - but nonetheless meaningful. It felt so right. So good. His lips so soft and warm - compared to his seemingly rough exterior. His blond-brown goatee tickled your skin in the best way possible.

Once more, Daryl froze to the ground; not moving a muscle.

When your lips left his again with a soft pop and you reopened your eyes, you could see how his eyelids fluttered slowly open as well. You could feel his heart galloping underneath your palm. "What do you feel now, Daryl?" You asked in a hushed tone. Your eyes never left his. The archer swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. "I-I-I..." He stammered out; his cheeks heating up. "G-Good," he croaked out. "R-Real good." You smiled - happy that your heart had made the right decision. "Wanna do it again?" He blinked. The tips of his ears got red as well. "I-If yer willin' t-to k-kiss me again?" Your smile even widened, before you reached up to cup his beardy, red cheeks in your palms to pull him into another kiss. Daryl gasped against your lips; eyes falling shut and lips following your lead. It caused the kiss to get more intimate. More demanding. More passionate.

His hands acted on their own will, as they settled on your waist and pulled you closer. Your body crashed against his. You could tell that he hadn't kissed a lot in his life; his movements clumsy and messy - but perfectly Daryl. And you loved it. You didn't care how experienced or skilled he was. All you cared about was him - and all the love he deserved you wanted to give him.

He was far from perfect; had his flaws - but so were you.

"What do you say now about love, pretty boy?" You asked in a playful, yet loving manner; your hands crossed behind his neck. Daryl's hands gently squeezed your sides, "Shuddup." before he dipped his head to indulge you into yet another kiss.

Yeah... He was definitely whipped.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @belitoxx @fictive-sl0th @marvelcasey05 @loz-3 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @dixons-sunshine @cakesandtom @mayday2007 @dixonsdarkelf @huntedmusicgardenn @ffsjustletmesleep

[lbhslefttiddie]

me: oh hey the next chapter of mott is almost done we should finish tha--

brain: okay so how do you think an omegaverse setting would impact architectural design in fantasy ancient china bc in general the layout of the three courtyard estate translates pretty well to hierarchical pack structure. the function of the north wing being the most private and hardest to access and thus generally being designated for unmarried daughters could work perfectly in a setting where traditionally omegas are supposed to be protected by the alphas of the family. however considering the added instincts around territory and pack bonding i think we could potentially take it a step further. in the normal siheyuan when it includes a north courtyard and wing, the passage leading to it runs along the east side of the main wing, however what if instead you had to go Through the main wing in order to reach the north wing? in order to reach the wing in which unmated omegas are housed you would need to go through the space of the family's strongest alpha

me:

brain: so obviously we're putting sy in there right. though currently he's in a side room of the main wing bc he's still a child, but when he reaches a certain age he will probably get his own wing. but like in an estate that big a really pressing issue becomes what the fuck would yue qingyuan do with the extra wings. we could put zhao jie in the east wing, but that still leaves an entire wing wholly unused. could we get away with designating the entire west wing as a work/storage area? i think you've mentioned before in text without going into much detail that yqy has an office area distinct from his actual house so that could work i think. also having a sort of business space within the estate in a separate building from his living space could help add a degree of separation between where others can and can't go without it being interpreted as intruding, esp important bc bitches be leaving their stink everywhere they go

me: the chapter--

brain: Design Yue Qingyuan's House Immediately

[blorbo-place]

Welcome to my very first ever public fanfic!

I have intentionally cut this in half so that I can finish tidying up the other half of this one-shot and not leave you all hanging until I thought it was perfect.

Let me know if you find any mistakes that I may have missed, your thoughts, all that good stuff. If you're ever confused throughout the story, don't worry, it's on purpose. This would take place about 1/3 of the way through the actual story.

If you have any questions, my ask box should be opened.

7.3K words

(TBD) stands for To Be Determined as I have not found a suitable name for this character yet. Physical descriptions are mostly left up for interpretation for right now.

CW for the following: panic attacks, body horror, nightmares, and accidental self harm.

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They paced around the large room with a steaming mug hanging off of two fingers, the black liquid sloshing around inside. Raph was sitting back in Donnie’s old chair, one leg leaned lazily on his opposite knee. He smirked as he brought his own mug to his face to take a sip, intently listening to whatever rambling the young mutant was on. 

“And I just don’t understand how goddamn hard that is to just LISTEN to me when I say ‘don’t do that’, like really, if I say that there’s something wrong then there is something wrong! My gut has always been wrong- rightImeanright- right about everything except for the one or two times it wasn’t but that was because I actually trusted the person before the bomb went off and made a mess of everything,” they continued on. 

How did this all begin? Well, it had begun like every other time it had: Raph couldn’t sleep, and neither could they. 

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Raph had woken up in the dead of night again, and rubbed his face with one hand, groaning annoyedly into it. He didn’t normally have this much trouble falling and staying asleep like this; not in a long time at least. Seemed as if these midnight endeavors were happening more and more frequently since the young mutant and their little band of trouble makers had been able to make a place for themselves in the Hamato family. Ever since Mikey, gods bless his stupid little heart, decided to give the leader of the rowdy quintet a second chance after they’d all but destroyed the barn in a half-brained all-assed attempt at a scavenging trip, the kids had been taking up some space in the old farmhouse.

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Raph didn’t mind nearly as much now as he did during the beginning. Mikey had argued that they were just kids, that they were only doing what they needed to in order to survive in this mutagen riddled hellscape, that they were just trying to get by with what they had and each other. “Just like we were when we were their ages,” Mikey had said. “But they don’t have a Splinter like we did, do they?” 

Raph remembered how much that one line stung, how Mikey gave him a knowing look like he just sealed the deal. He remembered glancing their way past Mikey, at the young mutant protecting a smaller human with an arm as if anticipating another attack. It felt so familiar. It wasn’t entirely what Mikey had said that made him change his mind on turning the intruders into mutant kabobs, but it was also something in the small leader’s eyes that made him feel… sorry for the kid. They were burning bright with anger, fear, desperation. Their other arm was by their side, hand hovering over the knife on their hip. 

The kid wasn’t even looking Raph in the eyes at the time, but instead their gaze was firmly set on his sai in either hand. The little leader had all but ripped the belt loop the knife was attached to as they snatched it when Raph opened his mouth to give Mikey his final decision. “Then in that case, you won’t mind being their Splinter, right?” 

Mikey’s shoulders relaxed at his older brother’s response, an excited grin overtaking his frantic features prior. “Of course not, man! Ya hear that dudes? Uncle Mikey is in the house!” he practically shouted, raising both arms in the air. All five troublemakers flinched at his excited demeanor, not finding the giant, mutant turtle to be all that trustworthy, much less calming. 

And boy were they right, because as soon as Mikey had been excited and chipper, he was just as quick to wipe the grin off his face. Instantly dropping to the ground in a kneeling position, leaning into the leader’s space, he muttered softly to them, “Now with that being said, as your Uncle, you will listen very carefully: if I ever catch you touching those katanas again, I will turn your hides into the nicest little welcome mat you have ever laid your eyes on. Capiche?” The three companions behind the leader shuddered visibly at that, but the child behind the smaller leader’s arm only scowled at the larger turtle, a smaller copy of the one the leader themself was wearing. 

Since then, all five of them had earned their keep, fairly quickly Raph might add. It may or may not have helped when the group had been sent to fix up the old barn better than new, but you didn’t hear that from Raph. 

Surprisingly, Donnie was one of the first turtles after Mikey to warm up to the kids, especially since the dusty barn was his beloved lab. The twin mutants were very inventive with anything they could get their hands on and loved to help Don with whatever project he had going on at any given time. Where Donnie was, the twins were sure to follow. The young human was often around Donnie as well, but it was usually for providing pure human blood samples or for simply bothering the twins. 

The tallest and possibly oldest one of the bunch was the most reserved. He never said much outside of a few phrases or responses, except when he was with his family or Mikey. Raph’s little bro had a way with getting people to open up to him. According to Mikey, it was because he was, and he quoted, “Known as cute in many circles.” Which, yeah, he was absolutely adorable… to anyone who wasn’t his brother. 

That left the little leader. If the tallest mutant wasn’t already pretty quiet, then the leader would be considered silent. They were almost always whispering to everyone they spoke to, no matter how far away they were. At first, Raph was constantly trying to listen in, believing that they were scheming behind the turtles’ backs after they, or rather Mikey, had graciously given them a second chance. 

That was until he had heard the twins respond in full volume to their leader’s quiet whispers. It turned out at the time that the three of them had been talking about a video game that had come out just a little bit before the bomb had hit the planet. It hadn’t been all that popular to begin with, but the leader absolutely loved the game, and the twins thought it could have been a great hit with more time and exposure. That was about as much as Raph had been able to make out until one of the twins caught him glancing their way, loudly whispering to the leader, “Red looks kinda sus.” The other two turned to look at him and chuckled, the leader letting out a quiet hiss with each laugh. Raph just rolled his eyes and went back to whatever he had been doing at the time.

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Raph slowly rolled over and leaned up to get up, legs swung over the side of the bed. He let out a soft sigh and was about to get up when he heard a small creak from outside his door. His head whipped so hard his mask tails would have hit him in the face if he had his mask on. 

So that’s why I’m awake, Raph thought to himself groggily. 

The silence seemed to stretch on forever until he heard quiet shuffling slowly continue away from the door. A single creak could be heard from where the staircase was, and then silence again. He contemplated going back to bed and hoping that sleep wouldn’t take so long to claim his eyes again when something gently tugged at his gut. All too familiar. He hadn’t felt that feeling in a long time; at least, not since Leo had… didn’t matter. If this feeling was the same as before, then whoever had been on the other side of his door needed someone at that moment, and just as luck would have it, Raph seemed to be the only other one awake at the time. 

Peachy. 

The giant turtle clapped both hands on either knee and stood to his feet, forgoing the red mask on the nightstand next to his bed. He snagged the maroon sweatpants hanging off of the chair next to his art desk and lazily slid his legs into them, tightening the drawstrings and tying them into a sloppy bow. He slowly turned the doorknob and quietly opened the old door, careful to minimize any protesting squeaks the decades-old hinges had in them. Closing the door behind him, he glanced down the hall to the stairs, a dull light shining from below. The kitchen. 

Avoiding the creaky floorboards he knew by heart, Raph tiptoed down the hallway and towards the stairs. He leaned over the railing, hands laced together and elbows leaning on the old wood banister overseeing the bottom floor. He listened intently for any cues as to who could be up this late. Mikey? Donnie? More than likely Donnie and his sleep deprived ass. The guy could be classified as 70% coffee instead of water at this point, despite whatever scientific bullshit his brother would spout at him about how that would be impossible. 

A light, rhythmic tapping could be heard from the kitchen below. Too high pitched to be Mikey’s nunchucks, too soft to be Donnie’s staff. One of the kiddos? They were all roomed together in the master bedroom upstairs as that was the only room that would fit them all. It couldn’t be one of the twins since they were always together, and when they were together, loud noises were sure to follow. That leaves them out. It was unlikely that it was the youngest kid of the bunch. The little leader always had a hand on the kid’s shoulder, and even when they didn’t, they always had an eye glued to him every five seconds, as if afraid that he would disappear from existence in an instant. So unless the tween had mastered the art of stealth, he was also out of the question. That left the stoic tank and the little leader themself. Again, the leader and the little tot were hardly ever apart, so by process of elimination, it had to be- 

Creeeaak

Raph cast a glance back down the hallway he came from, seeing the silhouette of a tall, quiet figure standing in the doorway. Ah, he thought somberly. Of course… if this was Leo, then of course it would be them. Raph turned to the eldest member, the hall and gave a gentle nod, a silent reassurance. They both stood there for a few seconds before the door quietly creaked shut again. 

Raph turned back to the light emanating from the kitchen below and sighed. This was more of Mikey’s thing, but what could Raph do? Leave the kid to have an existential crisis by themself in the middle of the night? Maybe. But then Raph would also have to have his own. It’s not like Raph could just go back to sleep, he was already awake and would take at least a few hours to go back to sleep. It wasn’t like he related to the kid at all, it wasn’t that at all. Totally. Definitely. He just didn’t think the kid deserved to be by themselves at this time of night. He could practically hear Mikey’s guilt tripping Splinter comment from all those months ago. They didn’t have a splinter. They didn’t have anyone. 

God damn it…

The giant turtle quietly made his way down the stairs, not bothering to avoid a few of the squeaky spots, and from the base of the staircase could see the younger mutant’s back turned towards him as they were leaned over the kitchen sink, the sound of running water echoing from the small room. Ta-tap, ta-tap, ta-tap, went their fingers on the countertop. He quietly made his way to them, stopping to lean against the frame of the threshold, arms folded and one foot leaned against the other ankle. He heard them swallow and set what he suspected to be their cup down in the sink with a light, metallic tap. They took in a shaky breath, and quietly they croaked out, “I’m fine, (TBD), just go back to-” they turned their head over their shoulder to look at who they thought was their friend, “...bed,” they finished, eyes widening as they had to glance up higher than where their friend’s head normally would be. Had their hood not cast a shadow over their face, Raph was sure that they would be as red as his bandana. Then again, Raph might have been a shade or two darker green himself. This was the first time he had ever heard the little leader’s actual voice instead of their whispering. It sounded broken, maybe even painful, and something in him felt like he was intruding, hearing something that wasn’t meant for him. 

When he realized that he had unintentionally widened his eyes in surprise, Raph tried his best to appear relaxed and unbothered, but he could see that it already had an effect on the kiddo. They glanced down to the floor, finding one of the cracked tiles to be the most interesting thing in the world at that moment. Shit. It was like looking at a wet puppy in the rain. Before the awkward silence could get any more unbearable, Raph said, “Ain’t (TBD), and definitely ain’t goin’ ta bed.” He glanced over the kid’s shoulder to the sink. “M’here same reason as you. Gettin’ water.” The younger mutant looked back up at him and shuffled aside. “Sorry, yeah, go ahead,” they whispered, crossing their arms and leaning against the left kitchen countertop. Raph pretended to ignore the sudden change in their behavior as he went to reach for the cabinet and grabbed a glass. 

As he filled the cup, he cast a side glance towards the kid and noticed how they tensed up under his gaze, trying to look elsewhere. He looked back to his cup and turned the water off. Taking a few steps back, he leaned against the counter opposite to them and took a large gulp. 

Nonchalantly swirling the remaining water in the cup and without looking at them, he said, “Sorry for startlin’ ya.” They sniffed softly. Cleared their throat. “S’fine, didn’t know it was you.” A pause. Without moving his head, he glanced at them. They were staring at him, but not really looking at him, just kind of acknowledging that he was in front of them. “Thought it was (TBD) ‘cause I heard the door creak open. He ok?” they asked. Raph looked back down at his cup and finished off the water. “Yeah, he’s alright, he just looked worried about somethin’ was all,” he answered as he set his cup down on the counter behind him. “You have a hard time sleepin’ a lot?” They raised an eyebrow at that and shrugged. “Who doesn’t at this point? Tiniest little noises will wake you up, even a mouse.” Raph let out a small huff of air through his nose.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Used to wake up whenever something was off with my bros. ‘Specially with… with Leo.” They perked up a little at the mention of his lost brother’s name. 

Good. 

“May I ask why?” they asked hesitantly. Raph shrugged and gave them a soft grin. “Yeah, you’re fine, but honestly, not even I know why. I just seemed ta always wake up whenever he wasn’t doin’ good.” 

Raph thought for a moment. Just how much should he share with the kid? Maybe… yeah, this’ll do, he thought to himself, thinking of a good story to share. “There was this one time, after a real bad patrol where he jus’... stopped talking to us for a while. This was back when we were kids, before the bomb.” He noticed how the kid had uncrossed their arms to put their hands in their pockets and seemed to lean a bit more towards him. So he continued.

“Mikey had almost got hurt bad, and Donnie’s weapon broke right in half. For the next couple’a days, I could hardly sleep a wink,” he continued. “Didn’t know why ‘til I got up in the middle of the night with a bad feelin’ in my gut. Left my room to go grab a cup of water,” Raph nodded his head towards the sink, and noticed the kid’s eyes darken a little in understanding,  “-and Leo was sat at the table with a cold cup of tea right in front of him.” He paused for a second to make sure the kid hadn’t completely shut him out now. They were tired, but they were still smart. Raph just hoped he could get to the point of his story before they tuned him out. 

“Now look, Leo was never the type to drink ice tea, much less let the tea go cold, so I knew something was seriously wrong. It wasn’t just another ‘leader must protect and be right at all times’ thing he did sometimes,” he continued, waving a hand to emphasize his poke at Leo.  “The guy looked exhausted. So, I grabbed my cup of water, and sat with him. We didn’t say anything for a while, but eventually, he told me he felt guilty about almost getting us all killed. Just let him talk.” He paused, studying them for a few seconds. They were still leaned more towards him than the countertop, listening intently. “When he was done, it was like he had let a big rock roll off his shoulders. After that, we both slept for 12 hours straight… and somehow, Mikey didn’t wake either of us during that time,” he finished with a soft chuckle. The kid smirked at that. At least they could agree on something as simple as who was the noisy early bird. 

They glanced at the floor for a moment before looking back at Raphael. “Did he still think it was his fault? Blame himself?” they asked. It was Raph’s turn to arch an eyebrow, that is, if he had any. “You shittin’ me? O’course he did, but do you really think I would just let him get away with talking shit about himself? Nah, only I’m allowed to talk shit about my bros. Everyone else can suck it,” he snarked. His lighthearted smirk turned to a grin when he managed to get a more vocal chuckle out of the mutant. They both let the comfortable silence stretch on for a little while longer before Raph continued. 

“Ever since then, every time I had a bad feelin’, I would go check on my bros, makin’ sure they were alright.” He thought for a few seconds, looking at the floor, the grin slowly fading to a flat line again. “Haven’t had that gut feeling in a long while though. A’least,” he looked them in the eyes, “not until tonight.” 

He knew the kid understood the moment he mentioned the water in the beginning of his story, but from the way they immediately looked back down at the floor, glaring at a tile as if it murdered their father, this time it might have really hit them what Raph was hinting at. They looked as if they had shrunk in on themselves, trying to put that wall back up. “So…” he said softly, barely above a whisper. “Why are you awake?” 

They furrowed their brows. “Just nightmares and all. It’s not like I haven’t been waking up every now and then you know.” Raph nodded. “Yeah, I pieced that together a little while ago. Been waking up too.” He lazily pushed himself off the counter and ran a head over his head to rub the back of his neck, the other on his hip. “You don’t have to share the nightmares with me if ya don’t feel comfortable.” He took a step towards the kid.

 “Just know that if ya ever want someone to listen, someone who’s not gonna go ‘therapist mode’ on ya, or anyone else who’ll try an’ drag the answer outta ya, my door’s always open.” He placed the hand that was on his neck onto the kid’s head, gently rubbing. “Metaphorically. Try ta’ knock first or some’n,” he added. 

The kid let out a huff of air through their nose. “Thanks but no thanks,” they said lifting an arm to shove the giant three fingered hand off of them. “Knocking sounds too difficult.” Raph snorted at that and playfully shoved his other hand on the kid’s face, getting a muffled growl from them. “My bad, shouldn’t’ve put such high expectations on ya.” They shoved the other hand off more roughly than before, but with a silly grin plastered on their face. “Now get yer ass to bed, drinkin’ water doesn’t take this long.” The kid rolled their eyes and, dragging their feet, sauntered out of the kitchen towards the staircase. 

Raph went to turn the light switch off when he noticed a glint in the kid’s eyes as they watched him from the base of the stairs. It was a little eerie, Raph thought, how the light just barely illuminated their eyes like that while their hood shadowed the rest of their face, making their expression indiscernible. But, as they say, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Try as they might, the kid wasn’t as stoic as they thought they were. The two made eye contact for a moment before the kid brought two fingers to their forehead in a mock salute, and started up the stairs. Raph smiled lightheartedly at the kid’s friendly farewell and gently clicked the light off. 

It was two months later when the late night conversations really began.

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Raph had woken up in the dark again, this time, the pull in his gut feeling a lot stronger than the last time. He sat up quickly, closing his eyes, listening to the house. Aside from any low hums or the faint whirring from Donnie’s machinery in the basement, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No footsteps, no shuffling, no voices, no creaks, nothing. He opened his eyes and grabbed his sweats off the chair by his drawing desk. He roughly shoved his feet through the pant legs and tied the drawstrings into a hasty knot. Quickly, Raph opened his bedroom door and immediately looked down the hall to where the kiddos’ room was, finding their bedroom door shut. He looked the other way, a dull light emanating from downstairs. The kitchen again. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he padded quietly along the floorboards, avoiding the noisiest ones as he descended the stairs. 

The giant turtle paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the seemingly empty kitchen doorway. As he tiptoed across the kitchen threshold, Raph couldn’t help feeling that something was off, more so than the first time he and the young mutant had spoken. All was quiet, save for a dull thud noise coming from the sink, the leaky faucet dripping every couple of seconds or so. 

Drip, drip… drip, drip… drip- squeak

Raph twisted the faucet off, the silence engulfing the entire room. There was an empty glass in the sink, probably from when the kid was downstairs. Looking up and around the kitchen, said kid was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell… The turtle mutant was about to flip the switch off and head upstairs to maybe talk to the kid tomorrow when he barely noticed the dark silhouette of someone sitting on the couch in the living room just to the left of the kitchen area. Unsure if they were looking his way or not, he made himself known. “Kid?” 

If they weren’t aware of his presence, they were now, as the light from the kitchen bounced off their eyes when they turned. Raph furrowed his brow in concern and confusion at the kid, the sleep in his throat making his voice sound more harsh than he meant to. “Kid, what are you doin’ down ‘ere?” 

They were quiet for a moment before they turned away, the glint disappearing, and whispered, “You know… just getting water.” Raph hummed softly, lowering his hand from the switch. “What are you doing down here?” they asked in return. 

He shrugged, lazily sauntering over to the living area. “Not water.” He stood by the couch for a moment or two before deciding to sit down next to the kid. Being closer to them now, he could see that they were curled up, knees to their chest, tucked away into the furthest corner of the couch. “Ya seem to be awfully cozy for someone only here for water,” he teased. They let out a tired scoff in a huff of air. “Oh yeah, the shitty, scratchy couch is the most comfortable spot to drink water. The best. You should try it, go grab a glass.” Raph snorted lightly and leaned back with his arms crossed. 

“Y’know as much as I like yer smartass banter, I also like seein’ ya without bags under yer eyes. So what’s up?”

They shrugged. “Just updog tonight, what about you?” 

“Kid.”

They said nothing, the glint disappearing into the dark again. The dark shape of their body seemed to shrink as they hugged their legs tighter and closer to their chest. Raph turned his body towards the kid, leaning an arm against his knee. Softly, he whispered, “Hey… what happened?” He heard them take in a shuddering breath and let it out in one big rush, trying to ground themselves. They took a while to respond, but Raph waited patiently. Clearly something was really eating away at them, and by the looks of them, something had been for a while. “Just- just nightmares, Raphael, nothing I can’t handle.” 

He let out a sigh through his nose. “Kid, you never use my full name.” 

“Sorry I just- look- I am fine, I will be fine, just need a minute to fuckin’ breathe.”

“Looks like ya’ve had plenty’a minutes there.”

“Not enough apparently,” they said, running a hand over their face. “M’fine, just needed water and a minute to myself and I’ll be peachy.” Their breath had picked up the pace in the few sentences Raph had managed to get out of them. Probably wouldn’t be the best idea to try and pry a real answer out of them right now, not yet. 

The kid’s breathing slowly became more ragged and shallow, trying as they might to cover it. As Raph’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the kid run a hand through their hair, gripping it tight. “Just nightmares…” they muttered. “Just… nightmares…” Like they were trying to convince themselves that. The turtle inched closer to the kid, their shoulder almost touching his. “Hey… kid?” he whispered, placing a hand on the young mutant’s back. And with that and one last shaky breath in, the kid crumbled. 

The kid’s cries were so quiet, but the sobs wracked their entire body, even shaking the cushions around them. Shit… Raph immediately wrapped an arm around their shoulders, squeezing them gently. They clutched their head in both their hands, fingers entangled painfully tight in their hair. Fuck- what would Mikey do in this situation, Raph frantically thought to himself. 

Hesitantly, he let the kid’s shoulder go and started to slowly make rubbing motions on their back, from their lower back, to the base of their neck. “Kid, take it easy, ok? I know that’s easier said than done, but you gotta breathe.” He dragged his hand down. “Breathe in…” Raph took a deep breath in. “Aaannd out…” He dragged his hand up as he sighed. Their breaths were erratic and shallow. “Pretend that my hand is yer diaphragm, where it holds, you hold.” Down. “Where it moves, you move.” Up. “Slow… and steady…” He placed his other hand on the kid’s left shoulder, thumb gently rubbing up and down in time with the exercise. 

“Breathe in…” 

Down…

“Aaannd out…”

Up…

“Breathe in…”

Down…

“Aaannd out…”

Up…

 Their breaths, although still as shaky as a leaf in a storm, began to follow the pace, wavering slightly on the inhale. “You’re gonna be ok, kiddo,” Raph whispered. “I’ve gotcha.” Their fingers loosened their grip. “Raph’s gotcha…” Their breathing fell into rhythm. 

For the next few minutes, Raph just rubbed the kid’s back, breathing when they did, and applying more pressure if the kid seemed to be receding back into hyperventilation. At least they weren’t pulling their hair out anymore, that was the last thing anyone needed, especially with a mother hen like Mikey wandering about. He could practically hear the so-called “Dr. Feelings” squawking “what the hell happened?!” as soon as he woke up. As much as Raph loved his little brother, the guy could be really nosey. Sure, he had his reasons to be concerned with everyone’s safety, seeing how there may or may not be a decade-long apocalypse going on, but after tonight, the kid was probably just going to need some space and sleep. Lots of sleep. The poor kid probably had extra eye bags by now. 

Slowly, Raph moved his arm to wrap around the kid’s shoulders again when it seemed that they had finally gotten a better grip on themselves, figuratively speaking. He gave their opposite shoulder a gentle squeeze in silent question, and felt himself relax in relief when they leaned their head towards his hand in answer. After a few moments, they opened their eyes again, casting a side glance towards the giant turtle. The light from the kitchen reflected off their eyes again as they looked at him, only this time, there was a softness to them. 

They didn’t say anything, but they did grab his hand in their much, much, smaller one, giving it a reassuring rub. Raph hummed softly and gave the kid a gentle squeeze. They closed their eyes tiredly and leaned into the turtle, their breathing finally slow and calm. And there the two sat in silence for another few minutes, enjoying the calm after the storm, relief swallowing them whole. 

Just as Raph thought that he should “rest” his eyes, he blinked them open, and shook the kid’s shoulders just enough to get them awake too. “Should probably get back ta bed,” he said. They groaned quietly and blinked rapidly at the light from the kitchen, wincing. The turtle let out a chuckle, laughing at their misery. “Don’t think (TBD) would evah let ya live it down if he evah caught ya bein’ all buddy buddy with yer arch nemesis, now would he?” he teased. As they stretched their arms up in the air, they also extended the best finger out of all five of them directly towards Raph’s face, to which he let out an amused snort. “Aw, what’s’a matter, I thought we were buddies,” he chuckled, elbowing the kid lightly in the ribs. They groaned and got up from their seat, giving the turtle a half hearted scowl, trying and failing to hide a grin. 

They walked into the kitchen, the kid tiredly dragging their feet along the ground and Raph right behind them to make sure they didn’t trip. As they turned to exit and go back upstairs, they turned to the turtle, as if waiting for him to follow. “Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna grab a glass before I turn in,” he said pointing a thumb towards the sink. “You just get some much needed shut eye.” They nodded, and turned away to leave, but hesitated and slightly raised a hand instead. 

Without looking at the Raph, they brought their hand up to their face, touching their chin with four fingers, and back down, palm facing upwards. Raph looked from them to their hand, back up to their face, and gave them a soft smile. “No thanks necessary, kiddo.” He took a step towards them and placed his hand on their head, gently ruffling their hair. “Like I said, my door’s always open. If ya ever need anythin’, you know where ta find me.” The kid grinned back, looking him in the eyes this time, and nodded. “Good… now get yer ass to bed, it’s 3 in the goddamn morning,” he finished sternly. The kid just rolled their eyes and turned on their heel, quietly tiptoeing back up the stairs. 

As he flicked the light off, Raph noticed that the pull in his stomach stopped. 

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A few days later, Raph looked down at the small mutant sitting on the couch yet again, with his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway in the kitchen. “So.” They glanced up at him. “Ya gonna tell me what’s been eatin’ ya?” he asked them. 

Raph had woken up a few minutes ago to a light knock on his door around 4 in the goddamn am. He swore he would murder whoever dared wake him up before the asscrack of dawn as he harshly swung his door open, only to have to look down from where he expected Mikey’s or Donnie’s head to be and at the little leader. 

They flinched at his harsh gaze, stuttering out, “Uh, sorry, I just-” “Nah, it’s fine,” he interrupted. “M’glad it’s you.” He let his gaze soften after he realized that it was just the kid, and nodded his head towards the stairs. “You wanna talk?” Relaxing their shoulders, they nodded.

A few minutes later, they were both back in the kitchen, Raph leaning against the doorway and the kid sitting on the couch, leaning on their knees. “I will, but only on one condition,” they answered, raising a pointed finger in the air. “We discuss this over a cup of coffee.” Narrowing his eyes at the kid, Raph felt as if he was in one of his old comics as he could practically see the ellipse hovering in the air between them.

“It’s… four o’fucking’clock… in the fucking morning,” he said slowly. The kid nodded slowly in return. “Eeeexactly,” they drawled mockingly. 

“No,” the turtle said lowly. 

“Yes.” they spoke.

They spoke. They were being completely serious. 

It’s too early for this shit, but Raph did tell them that his door was open, so… The turtle drawled out quite possibly the world’s longest sigh as he turned back towards the kitchen to put on a pot of water. “Thaaank youuuuu,” they whispered. Raph waved a hand in their direction, grumbling, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, not like either of us would’ve gone ta bed any time soon anyway…”

As soon as the coffee was done brewing, poured into two cups, and cooled to an appropriate temperature, Raph handed the mini mutant a smaller mug and nodded his head in the direction of the front door, indicating that they should continue their conversation where prying eyes and sleepy heads would not be able to follow. The front door screamed open as the turtle pushed it open with one arm, causing the smaller mutant to cringe and Raph to wince at his sad attempt to be more quiet for those still sleeping. He followed after the kid, slowly closing the door behind him this time. 

As they stepped outside into the chilly morning air, the kid shuddered, bringing their mug closer to their chest for warmth. Raph closed the door more softly behind him and lumbered over to his favorite seat outside. He leaned back into the porch chair, the wood squeaking lightly from the humidity. The mutant took a long, noisy sip from their mug, which they had clutched in both hands to help warm them up. They sighed contentedly from the warmth, and Raph chuckled softly. 

“Well?” he asked. He took a long sip as well, shivering lightly as he felt the hot liquid warm him up from the inside out. “It’s good,” the kid said, taking another sip. Raph raised an arch at that. The sass is strong in this one, he thought sarcastically. They gave him a blank stare before raising their eyebrows in realization. “Oh. Right.” Raph chuckled lowly, shaking his head a little at their response. Dumbass. 

“Ok, so,” they held up a finger as they took another gulp of the hot drink. “I’m, uh… not good at this talking thing.” They shrugged their shoulders as they looked to Raph for any guidance. 

Tough luck. 

When he didn’t respond, they continued. “I uh… I’ve been having nightmares for a long time, ever since I first got mutated. They didn’t stop until about… a year ago? Ish?” They took another sip, staring at the liquid in their cup as they collected their thoughts. “But then… they started again, about 3 months ago.” They looked up at the larger mutant, waiting for some sort of response. 3 months ago… am I supposed to know- oh, he thought to himself. He took a gulp from his mug, letting one arm rest across his plastron as he thought how to respond. This is gonna be a heavy conversation, maybe he should have made a stronger batch of coffee. “I’m guessing this is about the trip to Jersey?” Raph more asked than said. When they nodded, he nodded in return, his suspicions proven true. 

Yep, he should have made a stronger batch. 

“Which part about it?” They took a deep breath in. “Uhhhh, justabouteverythingfromthatday aaaand mostly about when I nearly lost my little brother,” they let out in one rush. “And look, I know we survived, I mean, I’m here, he’s here, you’re here, everyone made it back in one piece somehow. But…” They looked back down at their mug. “But I still see him falling over the edge of the building. The mutipedes squirming all over the walls. I see him clutching onto my hand for dear life. And every time I do, I see the mutagen being injected into his skin, his body just…” They curled their fingers in front of their face. “Just… and I can’t hold him. I let go, or his hand slips, or he lets me go because he knows there is no other choice. 

“A-and sometimes…” they stuttered, “Sometimes I dream that it’s me falling over the edge.” They pause, staring into their cup like it’s a black hole. “I used to go on short walks, or ‘patrols’ I would tell the guys, when it was just the five of us to shake it off, but after a while, that stopped working, and I would just stay up as long as I could so that I wouldn’t go back into the same hellscape,” they continued. “After you guys took us in, I would just stay up all night or grab a glass from downstairs to calm down before trying to go back to sleep.” 

Raph hummed, swirling the drink in his mug. “But that stopped workin’ too, didn’t it?” he assumed. They nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah it- it didn’t work nearly as long as walking around did.” They swung the mug back as they finished off the rest of the coffee. “When (TBD) caught onto my night terrors, long before we ever met you guys, I made him swear not to tell the others. They’d already had enough on their plate after the sixth member disappeared a couple years back, and I didn’t want them to have another thing to worry about. There’s no room for emotional support in the apocalypse.” Raph scoffed. “Mikey would disagree with that,” he muttered, sipping his drink. They chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, we didn’t have a Mikey.” 

“The attacks only started a few weeks ago,” they backpedaled, “The water cup stopped working longer before that, but it made a convenient excuse to leave the bedroom and go get it over with in private.” Raph thought back a few days ago, when he saw the small figure sitting silently in the dark. When he met the kid’s eyes, they shared the same knowing look. “Just get it over with and go back to bed. Easy peasy, don’t have to make anyone worry,” they said with mock cheer. 

Raph downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp, and with a solid clack, he set the cup down on the table next to his chair. “Yeah well, that’s bullshit. Cause there are people worryin’ about ya cause they care. That’s what families do.” The kid raised an eyebrow at him. “You say that like you’re experienced in that field,” they say skeptically. Raph chuckled lowly, shaking his head. This kid has no idea. 

Before he could get another word out, the kid raised a hand, sternly saying, “Look, I don’t want advice or nothin’, I’m only talking cause you wanted me to. I know that (TBD) and the others would want me to share what’s been going on in my head with them, but I’ve only shared the bare minimum with you. The whole story is… it’s too much. Too painful.” They averted their gaze, staring at one of the wooden planks. “They might understand too much. I don’t want them to have to think about it.” 

“What, you don’t think they’re strong ‘nough to hear it?” Raph asked. “No-” they quickly looked back up at him. “-well… yes but- ugh, no, but yes at the same time.” They sighed exasperatedly. 

“It won’t make sense unless I tell you the full story-” 

“What story…?” Raph interrupted. 

They snapped a finger and pointed at him. “Exactly. I can’t tell them the full story. Ever.”

He was so fucking lost. The kid was holding back on him and he didn’t like it. So this is how Mikey felt all that time, he thought. But whatever, Raph still had some of his own secrets, so he wasn’t about to be the world’s scaliest hypocrite and force the kid to share too. The young mutant must’ve been able to tell how confused the reptile was, because they let out a tired sigh as they continued. “Look, the truth would crush them. It would break their hearts, and then everyone would have trouble sleeping. I’d rather just sit with it and let it simmer away.” 

God, why was this kid such an angst magnet. “I hate to be the Mikey here, kid, but you’re lettin’ it simmer away in a bottle. It’s only gonna get hotter and hotter until the glass can’t hold anymore and it’s gonna explode fuckin’ everywhere, metaphorical glass pieces stabbin’ anyone and everyone within close range. Unless ya take the top off, it’s only gonna get worse from ‘ere.” They gave him a deadpan look. 

“I just told you I’m not telling them.”

“Who said you gotta?”

“You did.”

“Nah, I just said that unless ya take the top off the bottle, it’s gonna explode. 

If ya wanna keep yer secrets, fine, but ya gotta find an outlet other than having private panic attacks every goddamn night.” Their expression softened at the suggestion. Maybe they were finally gonna listen to something. “If ya want, I can show ya mine,” he offered. They shifted their stance, interest peaked. “And what’s that?” 

Cautiously, Raph looked behind him through the window into the house, head turning left then right before leaning forward on his knees, beckoning the kid to come closer. As they did, Raph cupped his hand over his mouth and quietly whispered, “Punching shit.” 

. . . . . . .

Quietly huffing a few laughs, they leaned away again, shoulders shaking lightly. “Wow, sounds really complicated,” they said in a totally, completely serious tone, much like Donnie’s whenever Raph pulled some stupid stunt. “I know, right? Mikey would be so proud,” Raph said in the same tone, mockingly. 

They shook their head, still having a laugh at Raph’s complicated, over-the-top, advanced coping mechanism. “When do we start?” 

================================================

Thank you for reading! I hope you all liked this so far, it's been a story stuck in my head for ages.

I do plan on continuing this, I just cut the whole thing in half so that I could polish up the rest of it. The second half is going to be on a much brighter note with a side of angst and some words that some of you may or may not want to hear :)c

Let me know what you all thought and if you have any questions about any of the characters I have so far. I'm currently working on physical designs so that I won't be the only one able to spin them in my head like 3d prints of nonsense.

[baltears]

ok fuck it im doing this sober bc it's the middle of the afternoon and my unmedicated brain can't focus on work

1. Queer coding

I would say the majority of Kara's relationships on the show have queer coding to one extent or another. She has very noticeable sexual tension with multiple women (particularly Kat and Kendra Shaw), and because she's so butch – much more so than other female characters who also happen to be soldiers, like Dee or Sharon – her relationships with men tend not to come off as completely "straight" in the sense of playing into hegemonic, rigid gender roles. But I would posit that her relationship with Lee is particularly distinguished by its queer coding and that this is a critical element of why the relationship is depicted as "doomed". On a textual level the series is very queer friendly for the time period and does contain canon queer relationships (if only in technically extracanonical works like Razor and Face of the Enemy) but on a subtextual level there's still a relevant narrative here about queer love being destined for failure or tragedy or being constrained to a relationship of distance and queer longing. "This too is yuri" is a joke, but it's a joke that's partially rooted in a level of truth about lesbianism and queerness and an experience of self-denial, self-betrayal, extremely present absences, and intense but ultimately disappointed yearning for connection that exists in the lives and experiences of many queer people – in a nutshell a sense of queer love as beautiful and worthwhile, but also deeply intertwined with tragedy and loss and also a certain wilful ignorance about or refusal of one's own desires. all of this is present in kara's relationship with lee.

It almost feels a little unnecessary to me to get into how exactly their dynamic feels queer because it seems so obvious to me that it's almost not worth stating, although that could just be because i'm in buffy fandom and so i'm very used to readings of texts that are comfortable interpreting men as proxy lesbians. The relationship seems to require an absence of hegemonic straightness, first of all. lee and kara are extremely close best friends, they are both soldiers, they are both butch. (lee is less butch than kara, but he feels so much like a lesbian to me that i just can't not say it. look at the suits he wears in s4 and how he does his hair. the performance of masculinity just feels drag-esque and self conscious to me, maybe not as obviously so as the way spike from buffy built his masculine persona, but lee is likewise reimagining his concept of what masculinity is and how to be a man after deciding that it doesn't have to mean being a soldier, and there's a degree to which it feels really consciously curated and performed.) They get along best when they're both being themselves, and their friendship just in a lot of ways happens to very closely resemble a friendship between two men, I think partly because they're modeled on the original starbuck and apollo from the original '70s bsg, both of whom were men. there's no sense that lee acts differently around kara than he would around a male friend. i would say kara has a more generalized comfort with anyone who's butch or masculine, including helo or other butch women like kendra or kat, but doesn't seem interested in spending any time socializing with other women in a more gender conforming, stereotypical "girls night" type of way.

There are moments when straightness kind of intrudes into their dynamic, though, and these are very noticeable because they're so disruptive. the main one is in colonial day when kara shows up wearing a dress. any wlw watching the show is going to notice this because it's just fucking weird to see kara in a dress. she's obviously doing it in response to lee treating her "too much" like a man (mocking her personal hygiene in the locker room), because subtextually if she's too butch and unfeminine and too much like a man he won't find her desirable or the type of intimacy she wants with him can't happen. I would say there's multiple reasons for this implication. On a metatextual, "Doylist" level it was written by a presumably straight Mormon who lives under hegemonic straightness and so has certain preconceptions about how "straight" relationships between men and women are supposed to look, and is just authentically depicting a feeling of conflict in how gender expression relates to sexuality – many such confusing cases under hegemonic straightness as even naturally gender conforming heterosexual people are constrained by it, just to differing degrees. On a textual level I think it's relevant that kara is implied to be kind of conservative and to have grown up into a rigid thinker out of necessity. She is devoutly religious, basically the equivalent of a die hard no-divorce Catholic, and has this behavioral tendency to seek out situations where she can express parts of her personality through operating in specific roles (e.g. being in the military validates her authoritarian tendencies and extreme deference to parental authority figures – Bill, Cain – while also giving her an outlet for her self-destructive and suicidal tendencies, so she has enough plausible deniability to constantly put herself in danger more than she has to under the guise of it being her job). so there's this feeling that maybe she doesn't really have an understanding of romantic relationships between men and women that don't have to be "straight" in the traditional sense, where she doesn't have to be feminine or reduce herself down to the form required by a straight relationship (quoth chappell roan, "nothing more than his wife").

But when kara tries to impose straightness on her relationship with lee this way, it just goes horribly. She can't maintain it and neither can he because it's not the type of relationship they are supposed to have. Kara tries to play the role of, like, "female love object," or "maybe-girlfriend," in the explicitly straight senses, and it is such a violation of who she is and so exhausting to try to maintain that she instantly snaps back hard and does something self-destructive that she doesn't even really want to be doing (ditches lee to fuck gaius while picturing lee). I have to say as a trans person i see a lot of my own former attempts to inhabit femininity in a "straight" way in kara in these types of moments. I could do it on autopilot for maybe a few hours, and initially i would feel this rush of validation for "performing correctly", but the discomfort of performing a role that was not authentic to me would build and build and build until i snapped and started freaking out and internally spiraling without really knowing why. Kara can be intimate with lee, and she can feel desired by lee, but it has to be as herself, her queer butch self who is much bigger than a narrow role of straight femininity, or else it just doesn't work.

Lee likewise is initially very struck by the dramatic change of kara trying to be feminine ("makeover walking down the stairs" type moment), but after that point and the disaster that their attempt at a date turns into he shows absolutely zero desire for kara to try to recreate that and never ribs her for being unfeminine ever again. I would even say he's also attempting to force himself to be in "straight" relationships with feminine women when he thinks he can't have kara. he does sincerely love and care about dee, but the relationship feels uneven in kind of a typical hetero way, with her doing the majority of the emotional work and him really struggling to open up and be vulnerable about himself, much less actually make space for her feelings the way he easily does for kara. even if he hadn't kept dating and then married her explicitly out of revenge/heartbreak, there would be a problem in how the relationship functions that's explicitly tied to both of them inhabiting straightness and the marriage looking too much like a traditional straight marriage, with all the problems that entails. (i think this is related to the moment where kara makes fun of him for being with dee while trivializing the relationship – she's being mean, but it's also already obvious at that point that he's kind of playing a part and that it's not as deep of a connection as he likes to think it is.) with dee, lee "has" to act "like a straight man", and that includes not telling her about his feelings, not trying to do any of the necessary emotional work of marriage with her until it's far too late (and even then it's not really enough), and sleeping with someone else behind her back bc he feels unfulfilled, bc he married someone he ultimately wasn't really prepared or didn't really want to be close/emotionally intimate with. plus in black market (an episode i hate for a lot of reasons, but is kind of a rich text re: lee) we get this narrative of him trying to recreate a painfully straight relationship from his past with a girlfriend he abandoned because he didn't want a child (by implication, a hegemonic straight relationship and nuclear family) with her. his attempts to inhabit this role with siobhan and her kid are incredibly awkward and she clocks what he's doing and how artificial it is basically right away, but just kind of humors him until he starts acting like it's real because he's paying her. again, textually this all has nothing to do with his relationship to straightness, but subtextually there is a clear pattern here because the only woman he's romantically attached to but never acts like this with is kara. he doesn't display those same "straight man" behaviors with kara, he doesn't treat her like the narrow hegemonic masculine idea of what a woman is, because she's outside of that for him and so he gets to be outside of that with her. the relationship is queer rather than straight, and so his thinking and feeling are not constrained by those rigid roles with her.

I should note here that kara's relationship with sam is not totally lacking in queer coding. When they're in normal mode just being themselves, there's a dynamic of almost parodying straightness in the way they interact (primarily in the sense of kara playfully dominating sam and calling him things like "little slut" and "my personal property" – although I would say there's a parodic tone to those interactions that might imply kara feels she is intentionally subverting a straight "normal" to which the relationship will ultimately revert). that dynamic changes after they get married. more on that in a second.

kara's marriage to sam is explicitly depicted as an impulsive reaction to kara getting extremely intimate and vulnerable with lee. the extended cut of unfinished business (which i don't personally prefer to the original because the pacing is so fucked with all the extra scenes, but contains some interesting insights into what's going on emotionally for kara) goes so far as to practically state in dialogue that kara marrying sam is an act of instinctive survival. kara confirms this when she later tells him that she "only" married him because it was "safe and easy" – she's being mean to someone she loves in that moment by omitting the more genuine connection she later developed with sam, but that doesn't mean it's a lie. that is to say, kara is deeply threatened by the level of intimacy that she feels with lee. she is not (or not primarily) realizing that she loves sam, she's realizing that she loves lee way too much and that the potential he has to completely annihilate her as a person is therefore exponentially higher than sam's. I would say subtextually there's also a sense of fear that she loves lee wrong or sinfully because the relationship does not fit into the idea of "straightness" she has in her brain. She's very comfortable cheating on sam with him or having little flings or intimate moments with him in private, but there's something about the relationship that just kind of can't be allowed to see the light of day. (more on that in the next section.) Conversely, she's comfortable celebrating her marriage to sam on new caprica very publicly. Textually this is because she doesn't feel threatened by the more distant and shallow level of connection she has with sam, but subtextually it's because the relationship looks "normal" – ie straight or unqueer.

Given that i've already stated that i do see a bit of queer coding in kara's relationship with sam, this might sound like a strange conclusion to land on. But kara's characterization within the relationship changes dramatically after the timeskip on new cap. Suddenly our hard-drinking, loud-laughing fighter pilot that sam was so charmed by is running all around town worrying about her stupid husband who's sick and should be resting in bed. It's such a small interaction, but it tells us so much about how she's existing in her marriage with sam at this point. Instead of being herself, which she evidently can't bear to try to do (likely because she betrayed herself so badly by destroying what she actually wanted when she decided to betray lee,) she's used her marriage to him to kind of disappear into a role she knows how to play – the role of a traditional wife ("nothing more than his wife"). This version of her relationship with sam is really striking because the later characterization of their relationship, when their marriage has all but collapsed but they're being much more honest with each other, is so dramatically different. Kara at this point has almost entirely vanished into traditional femininity because she doesn't know how else to be a wife. This idea is driven home later in a really disturbing way when she's held captive by leoben, who forces her to play house with him and recreate a similarly rigid and hegemonic vision of a nuclear family home, treating her like his wife (or like a woman who's supposed to be his wife but isn't playing her role very well) and forcing her into motherhood with kacey, a position she's terrified of – but eventually finds some comfort in, because again, she can perform it as a relatively rigid role, narrow enough for her to understand how to compress herself to exist in it.

so essentially what happens on new caprica is that kara is offered the chance to have an authentic, truly intimate queer relationship in the light of day, to truly change her life in a way that she wants, and she tries to do it only to immediately backtrack out of fear and instead snap back hard (same behavior as colonial day, but in the opposite direction because her queerness frightens her so much) into traditional femininity, for which she's pretty brutally punished by the narrative – not for being too feminine, per se, but for betraying and denying herself because that's not who she is. kara symbolically returns to herself only when she cuts off her long hair, which she always habitually kept short because it's part of how she presents as butch; the long hair was a link to the traditional femininity that she forced herself into and then became trapped in by leoben. she finishes this transition by reconciling with lee, which they do in this very (have to say it) traditionally masculine, even fight-club-esque way of punching the shit out of each other until they've punched out all their grief and longing and anger and frustrated, disappointed queer love and they can be close again. and then they start having a secret affair outside their straight marriages almost immediately.

2. Incest coding

This one might be quicker to get into because this aspect of their dynamic is obvious enough that almost any viewer would notice it. "Sibling coded" is the phrase we see getting thrown around nowadays. Lee and Kara do just kind of act like siblings from the jump. they're in love with each other and they want to be together, there's obvious sexual tension between them practically every time they're alone in the same room and almost as frequently when they aren't, but they also have an interesting, comfortable degree of familiarity and playfulness alongside the occasional awkwardness that comes from liking each other. as we quickly find out, this is because they kind of are siblings, or at least were supposed to be. kara was engaged to lee's younger brother zak before he died suddenly in an accident, which means that kara and lee were supposed to be siblings-in-law and were only prevented from reaching that point by a sudden intrusion of tragedy and loss that they both experienced.

bill went ahead and decided to treat kara essentially as if she did marry zak, meaning that he treats her as a daughter. even on occasions where he's angry with her or disagrees with her, and even though bill isn't great at expressing anger at his loved ones in a healthy and functional way, there's a deep connection between them that goes beyond the conflict and a sense that the relationship will always ultimately survive any damage it undergoes. they have a permanent bond of father and daughter that is explicitly acknowledged by both of them. i think it would even be a little too oblique to call them "found family," because we don't normally call in-laws found family. they're just family. in a sense i think it's the most uncomplicated and emotionally straightforward relationship that kara has, aside from maybe her friendship with helo. despite the fact that bill isn't that great of a father, she feels very secure in her relationship with him and doesn't really seem to fear that he will abandon her. he's certainly a much better parent to her than socrata ever was, so to be honest i'm not sure she even notices most of his shortcomings as a parental figure. anyway this is becoming kind of a digression but my point is, despite not being related by blood, they are family. they just are. in every emotionally relevant respect, bill adama is kara's dad.

This connection also extends to lee, and is another critical narrative reason why lee and kara keep trying to be together but just can't. when they're together, there's something strange or taboo about the relationship that forces them to keep it private (on a textual level during the point this is most relevant, it's because they're married to other people, but there are many smaller moments at other points in the text where there's seemingly no reason why they couldn't just be together publicly but they still can't do it). there's also a funny obliviousness that other people often seem to have to how they feel about each other that doesn't seem to track unless their relationship is somehow outside the boundaries of the socially expected or the socially possible. e.g. when Bill tells lee about kara getting married and then completely cluelessly asks if lee is alright when he makes a face like he just said someone died. subtextually in bill's mind in that moment, that's bill's son hearing that his "sister", bill's daughter, got married. so it just would not occur to him, even when it's incredibly obvious, that his kids would have a romantic connection because they're supposed to be family. or not even just supposed to be family, they are family in as literal a sense as there can be – emotionally, socially to an extent, just not legally.

Part of this implied taboo has to do with their queerness and another part of it is that they're family and again, there's the thematic implication of incest. Incest taboos exist for a lot of reasons, one of which is because it is "sinful", or to use less religious terminology for what's often treated as the same concept, "illegal". to compare to a similar narrative dynamic, gertrude and claudius from shakespeare's hamlet are accused by hamlet of engaging in incest by getting married, despite the fact that they were not blood siblings but only siblings by law (in-laws). this is a highlighted aspect of why "something is rotten" or intrinsically wrong with the nation when hamlet returns home – claudius didn't only commit the sin of murder, but he committed murder against his king (sin of deposing a king who was ruling by divine right, ie acting against god), who was also his brother (sin of fratricide) and married his brother's wife (sin of incest). We don't talk a ton as a fandom about the concept of sin or intrinsic wrongness to actions that are "against god" because it's not the type of language or thought that is relevant to everyone, but it is worth noting once again that the story was written by a mormon, includes explicit themes of religion and does incorporate sin against god as a theme, so it is relevant enough to speak about here as a narrative force or at the very least a force in the minds of the characters (especially kara, who is devoutly religious). this is really emphasized when we see the flashback in daybreak of the first time they met because their attraction to each other was explicitly characterized as a betrayal of zak, kara's not-yet-fiancé and lee's brother, that they both refused to act on because it would have been wrong. that feeling of wrongness or sinfulness kind of persists every time they try to make the relationship romantic.

one of the other, more pragmatic and less spiritual or metaphysical reasons for incest taboos that might also be relevant here is that family relationships (again, not necessarily blood family) are supposed to be permanent, and romantic partnerships can be tumultuous, fragile, and hard to maintain. it's a similar reason to why many workplaces discourage romantic relationships between employees: they want to prioritize the health of the working environment, and the kind of, for lack of better words, extreme personal drama that can arise between people trying to have a romantic connection can very easily jeopardize that. similarly, all other things being equal, people who have a familial connection trying to introduce a romantic element to the relationship can jeopardize the harmony and integrity of the family. we see this play out between kara and lee more than once. because they are family, because their connection is permanent and unbreakable, the fallout when they try and fail to introduce romance to their relationship can be catastrophic. but part of the reason for this constant push-pull or this "frozen" quality, as RDM put it, is that they do have both a familial relationship and a continuing, "incestuous" desire for an intimate romantic relationship. when they are alienated, there is the same sense kara has with bill, that they are still family and that one way or another they will eventually reconcile. when they aren't trying to be together romantically, they're still a feeling that they're "too close," "too intimate," and that it's likely just a matter of time before they eventually try it again. but when they do try to be together, for one reason or another or another or another, it just can't work. so they're stuck in this middle ground, where they love each other in a number of different ways but can't consistently and "normally" inhabit a version of their relationship that is romantic.

I personally think part of that is just because they needed to stop trying to narrow their relationship down to one aspect, because the whole point of their connection is that it's unique and it's a lot of things at once and doesn't fit into boxes like that (also related to their queer coding), but it's an element of why the relationship is characterized as "doomed" or "frozen". But it's also a reason why i don't really buy the idea that the romantic side of the relationship failed or ended at any specific point. the romantic side of the relationship can't ever truly be over because it's just one piece of a whole relationship that includes a family connection, which is permanent. but it's also why they can't truly be together – narratively, thematically, it's still just too "wrong," it just "can't work." it's a relationship that can never be. which is why, when they reach a point where there are no more obstacles standing in their way and they could choose to finally be together, kara disappears.

3. Doomed & legitimized by the narrative

I get a little confused when people approach this relationship in kind of more traditional shipping terms of wanting them to be "endgame," because I honestly do see their tragedy and their nature of being "frozen" or "doomed by the narrative" as a critical part of why their love story is so compelling and so real, without which it just would not be the same. On a purely textual level, leaving aside any of what i just talked about, the reason kara refused to be with lee and the relationship failed was because she loved him too much and it made her too scared to try to get what she wanted. she is too traumatized to be able to function in a committed romantic partnership, which is also why her marriage to sam only started feeling okay to her after it was no longer really a marriage and she didn't have to maintain it like one. kara and lee's natural level of intimacy and connection, the deep and raw emotional honesty they hardly even have to try at all to have and just naturally blossoms between them even when they don't want it – that was too much for her, it was incredibly threatening, because she's an abuse victim who has extreme difficulty believing in her own worth and trusting other people not to hurt her if she's vulnerable. But i also see a lot of poignancy in the fact that despite the fact that they clearly, for whatever reason, just could not make it work and could not be together, they kept trying, over and over, compulsively, because they loved each other too much not to. and when they explicitly weren't trying, i almost want to say their love for each other was even more visible because it wasn't inhibited by the threat of having to try to be in a real relationship. regardless of what kind of love it is, they just love each other for exactly who they are, no matter what. they just want to be close, they just want to be together, and by the end of the story i think it doesn't really matter to them so much how that looks or how the relationship should be labeled or categorized. they can be with other people and sincerely trying to make those relationships work and still know beyond a doubt that they love each other exactly the same way as they always have, since the first time they met. I really think their relationship transcends just romance and it's incredibly reductive to only view it through that lens, but it's also just as reductive to try to say they're "just" siblings or "just" friends and that's how their relationship should really be. nope, they're all of it, no dividing lines, right to the end. in a way i think of it almost like a fantasy of a relationship that "couldn't" exist in real life because of straightness and amatonormativity and patriarchy, almost like it was just too much and too real and too complete to last. (of course we know it could but. it was the 2000s. and he's straight, ostensibly. and mormonism.)

4. Closing thoughts

"bright, shiny futures," straight marriage and nuclear families and babies and hetero endgame ever after, are overrated anyway. i love what we got, exactly the way it is. changing things about it is for fanfiction and i love that so much, but i love canon more. they were as "endgame" as it gets for a relationship like theirs. bazinga.

im like 2 drinks away from writing a fuckass meta essay on how starpollo is 1) queer coded, 2) incest coded, 3) doomed by the narrative on an extremely literal level so strongly subtextual that it's almost text (closely related to 1&2), 4) "legitimized" as a love story in the strongest possible sense by the nature of their doomedness (ie i think the writers were past speaking to shipping politics but did want to say something specific about what the relationship was and meant), 5) one of the best written relationships in the show that a lot of fans either failed to read accurately (bc of shipping goggles) or chose not to read accurately (bc of anti shipping goggles bc the shippers were annoying and already reading the dynamic in an overly simplistic way),

[morguevampire]

(Un) Fortunate Encounters - Chapter 4

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

Masterlist for this fic

summary:  With your body needing rest you fall into a sort of routine at the Baron's mansion. Which doesn't mean you trust him. It's mostly a back and forth between the two of you.

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation 

chapter: 4/?

word count: 2.121k

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hey yo, 

there ya go. Chapter 4! 

Honestly not sure about this chapter but let's just blame it on uni being stressful and my brain being fried. I really tried my best, going over it a few times but at last I figured I'd post it because I was afraid that if I didn't keep up the regular updates I would just abandon this story. 

Let me know what you think! I promise to do better for the next one! Comments, kudos etc. are welcome, as well as feedback :) 

Adios

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108965257

It’s almost midday when you wake up the next morning. Your exhaustion completely took over you and you find yourself surprised at having slept soundly through the night. It takes you another good hour of contemplating your life and the current situation until you finally crawl out of the comfort of the warm bed and into the bathroom to freshen up.

Your dreamless slumber and general fatigue didn’t necessarily leave you with much capacity to mull over whether you wanted to accept the invitation of staying with a murderer or strike out on your own and most likely get killed by other murderers but really, perhaps unconsciously you had already made up your mind.

As you head down the stairs towards the living room you find the house quiet and unoccupied. You decide to explore the space, perhaps finding Zemo in the dining room or wherever all the other paths of the mansion led to.

Carefully, almost as if you were an intruder you make your way through the dining room, where just the evening before you had dinner with a god forsaken terrorist. Another door leads into the modern kitchen, fully equipped with appliances you could only afford to dream of and a big island with stools on one side. One wall was lined with full glass, overlooking a lush forest which made you conclude that the house was most likely in the middle of nowhere. You stand in front of the windows, memorized by the scenery when Oeznik quietly enters the room, startling you as he interrupts your daydreaming.

“Would you like a cup of coffee, Miss Y/N?”

You accept eagerly, realizing you haven’t had your coffee fix in almost three days. Oeznik informs you that the Baron was out on an errand. He disappears shortly after handing you your cup and you decide to sit down in the living room once again, staring out of the windows there or roaming through the shelves of books while enjoying your freshly brewed coffee.

You were almost finished when you heard the front door open and close, expecting the Baron to appear shortly after.

“Good morning. I thought I’d get some of your belongings from your apartment so you’d feel more comfortable.”

You stare at the two duffle bags that he hauled onto the couch.

“So, you just assumed I would stay?”

“Aren’t you?”

His condescending tone once again annoying you,´; you challenge him, even though he is right. His whole demeanor oozes arrogance and a know-all attitude which pisses you off, not just on him but on humans in general.

You’re almost too proud to answer him, his face once again wearing a slight smirk.

Most likely with too much force and looking clumsier than you intended it to be, you snatch the two duffle bags and simply mumble a hasty “thanks” before storming off towards your room once again, leaving the Baron to huff out a quiet laugh at your temperament.

In your room you go through the duffle bags. They’re filled to the brim with clothes, surprisingly a lot of your favorites. Toiletries are also neatly packed, which makes you cringe a bit at the thought of this man going through your bathroom. You’re sort of at a loss when you discover your nowadays not so stuffed little plush duck in there. It’s a little greyish thing, used to be white but that was a long time ago, its head not really upright anymore. It’s usually hosted on your bed and you haven’t stopped sleeping with it since you were about five years old. You were oddly sentimental over this thing, holding it in your arms now. It gave you a sort of safety to know you had it with you.

You sort through the rest of the stuff, happy with having a bit of your life back but also unsure as the amount gave you a feeling you’d be staying for longer than you initially hoped.

The only thing that’s really missing in the bags is your phone, or your notebook. You suppose it’s because of the very obvious reason that technical devices would mean communications to the police or the outside world which most likely don’t overlap with the Baron’s plans for you. It still makes you frustrated.

Once you descend the stairs again you find the man who just an hour ago went through your private belongings sitting on the kitchen island, a laptop in front of him.

“I want my phone.”

He looks at you somewhat surprised that you would even dare to ask such a stupid question.

“Not possible.” He scoffs. “At least for now.”

You roll your eyes, once again annoyed and already regretting your decision to even come down here.

When you inquire about the duration of your more or less forced stay, or the progress in his strategy to get his enemies off your back he gives you cryptic, monotone answers. None the wiser and feeling defeated you sit down on one of the high barstools furthest away from him. Once again absently staring out of the window. Out of the corner of your eye you see him shuffling around the kitchen but you completely zoom out and don’t really take in anything he’s saying until a plate with food on it is placed in front of you.

“You should eat.” Is all he says before picking up his laptop, leaving you alone once more.

********

A few uneventful days fly by. In a weird, twisted sort of way your life found a routine. With your body still being in the healing process you spent most of your days sleeping, or dozing in your room. You couldn’t remember the last time in your life you actually had the time to just do nothing. No distractions, no guilty feelings about being unproductive. Even if you wanted to, there was nothing to do. The times you did wander downstairs to pass over the time, you usually found yourself drawn to the book shelves in the living room. Browsing through the titles and mostly being too afraid to touch vintage looking ones.

You were never a crazy reader, but you did go through your phases and always wished for more time for the activity. Often work or general adult-duties kept you from it and the forced technology detox helped you appreciate books more.

The Baron wasn’t around too much. Usually in the morning or rather midday Oeznik would offer coffee and breakfast to you and quickly disappeared out of sight once you sat down on the kitchen counter, staring out at the woods. You’d encounter Zemo randomly throughout the day, never saying too much and mostly trying to be out of his way as much as possible. Your trust in him was still uncertain and he didn’t seem to try to make much of an effort in gaining it. The only consonant was your shared dinner, usually something hearty, the two of you on the large dining table. It felt awkward, the only conversation usually being him checking up on your general wellbeing and health condition.

He’d always seem so unbothered by the tension in the room, while you were constantly in flight mode. Even though he had more or less shown you hospitality, always been polite and tried to stay out of your business, he still made you uncomfortable. He seemed so sure of everything, his position, your position while not really giving you any answers to your questions, yet still underneath concerned about you. You couldn’t figure him out.  

You were relieved once these dinners would end and you could go curl up in bed once again – just to have a deep dreamless sleep.

It surprised you how easy sleep came to you, considering you were usually an overthinker with insomniac tendencies whenever your mind was occupied with personal struggles.

You should have seen it coming, there was only so many hours of rest your injured body would need before your unconscious mind decided to plague you with nightmares.

It comes on the fourth night at the mansion.

You jolt up chocking. Your lungs desperately grasping for air. It takes you a moment to realize where you are. The room, your room. Your head isn’t underwater. You aren’t back in the warehouse. You’re safe now, he said.

You drag your forearm across the top of your head, realizing just how much you sweated. Still not fully awake and back to reality you slump back down, breathing hard and trying to control your emotions. You’ve been rescued, your wounds are healing, the bruises are fading, you’re safe. But you’re also still locked up. Forced to stay in a safe house of a man who killed innocent lives. 

You toss and turn for an hour or so, slipping in and out of consciousness, that feeling of fear, torture and pain always coming back. The clock on the little bedside table reads 3:38 a.m. when you decide to give up. You wouldn’t fall back asleep anytime soon and the room suddenly feels too claustrophobic, the chocking feeling in your throat becoming more intense as the minutes tick by.

You decide to head downstairs into the living area, selecting the book you started to read days prior. Only it didn’t quite manage to distract you from the night’s terrors.

Curled up under a cashmere blanket on the big leather couch your body was still tense and you couldn’t concentrate on any of the words in the book. You don’t know how much time has passed when a low voice interrupts your blank staring at the letters.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

The Baron entered, a steaming cup of tea in his hand, heading towards you.

You only shake your head, feeling uncomfortable in being called out.

He doesn’t ask you, just holds the steaming cup of what you smelled to be chamomile tea in front of you. Hesitantly you take it from him, not trusting his intentions.

It seems as if he’s giving you space to talk on your own, even though he sits down right next to you, close enough to make your body tense up again.

After a few sips in heavy silence you slowly begin to speak.

“Why are you up?”

He was still dressed in his street wear. Black trousers and a gray knitted sweater.

“Insomnia.” He answers with a shrug, turning his head to look in your direction, focusing his brown eyes on you and pursing his lips before he continues. “Let me guess… nightmares?”

You nod.

“It’s the natural reaction of your brain and body to all the horrors you’ve experienced in the past week.”

A nod again, this time faintly annoyed at his smart talking and prying into your personal matters.

“I am sorry for your pain. This might not help, but I do empathize with what you’re going through. I have had my fair share of nightmares and PTSD.”

“We’re not the same.”

You mumble and break eye contact, not being able to take his soft, pitying look anymore. You don’t want his empathy and you certainly don’t want to empathize with him. If he wants to open up about his past or his struggles he should see a therapist, not load it onto the woman he kidnapped.

You fumble around with the handle of the tea cup for a bit, wishing to just be on your own again.

“What are you reading?”

You show him the cover of the book. Walden by Henry David Thoreau.

“Can’t really concentrate on the words though.”

“Would you like me to read to you?”

You most likely don’t hide your surprise well but he only chuckles and motions for you to had him the book, still lying open in your lab. You do and not soon after find yourself half lain down on your spot, feet curled up and eyes fluttering shut as Zemo’s low, accented voice carried you into a solidary life in the woods.

You’re not sure at what point you fell asleep but as you drift in and out of a calm slumber his voice is always there, a consonant that your unconsciousness latches onto for distraction. A guide into a numb sleep.

********

You awake in your bed the next morning. Hazily trying to remember if you’ve only dreamed of the Baron reading to you and trying to figure out how you ended up in your room. It must have really happened as you faintly remember being pulled out of sleep for a second as he lifted you in his arm and carried you upstairs, brushing the hair out of your face softly, before leaving your room, letting your tired mind rest.

And you felt safe. And cared for.

[proserpina-magnus]

Hiii it’s me, the regulus simp again- back with another Regulus x fem!reader requestt where the reader has always wanted to play the piano, and the slytherin common room just happens to have one and Regulus just happens to know how to play the piano and she hears him playing so she comes to listen and she has synesthesia so she describes to him what she sees (like colors etc) andd maybe some ultra fluff where he tries to teach her to play it💖💖✨✨ also hope your day is going well and you’re drinking water and getting enough vitamin D because you’re important <3

I LOVED WRITING THIS, IT WAS SO CUTE. LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS ( it made me feel better after writing the angst fic ). Also, I hope you are eating and staying healthy and safe! xoxo.

One where he teaches you how to play the Piano

Word count: 2619

[ Warning: fem!reader, fluff, strangers to lovers, first kiss, some sexual tension (not really though), hand holding, petnames such as “love” and “pretty lady/girl” ]

You pressed your ear to the door, hearing the angelic music come from the piano in the Slytherin common room. You tried your best to stay away, but you somehow always made your way to listen outside the door.

The person who played always came to the piano after supper on Wednesday nights, occasionally they would come to play on the weekends as well. You never caught a glimpse of the person, you always ran off before they noticed you were there.

Here you were, ear pressing so close to the slightly opened room as you listened to the sweetest melody you have ever heard. Your brain fogged with clarity, it felt like paradise.

A smile tugged on your face, but it quickly fell when the door leaned forward and you came tumbling into the almost empty common room.

The walls were made of bricks, making you wonder what it would feel like to slide your fingers along the creases. Your knees hit the floor, hands extended as you hear a slight cracking noise. You cringe at this simple scenario you have fallen into, how could you have possibly been so naive and fall right through the door?

The piano came to a stop when you fell, the musician taking a look towards the intruder. You stare at the ground with wide eyes, feeling too embarrassed to look up at them.

"Are you alright?" His voice was deep and delicate, much how you imagined it would sound. You look up, realizing his voice wasn't the only thing delicate about him. His face was shaped like a god, high cheekbones with thinning plain lips. You took a moment to stare at his beauty, never knowing a person could look so lovely.

"Excuse me?" He repeated himself, standing from the oak bench. His hand came into view, you took his long fingers into yours, feeling him pull you up. His hand was cold to the touch, but it only reminded you of the snowy owls you see flying.

"I'm sorry, it's just you play the piano so well, I guess I got distracted and fell... through the door," you explained, embarrassed. You took your hand from his, looking around the space accompanying you both. Everyone was out for a Hogsmeade trip, but you had stayed because you heard the piano.

"Oh," he responded, you look back up towards him, noticing his taller height. You looked over his outfit, seeing his well-tailored fit. His shoes were sparkling, making you look at your own dusted ones.

"Do you play the piano?" The musician asked, trying to get you to stay and talk for a few more minutes. You looked back up, shaking your head sadly.

"I wish, I just never gotten the opportunity to learn," you tell him, looking towards the piano left unoccupied. He watched you, making you look up towards him.

"What is your name?" He asked, taking a step back to give you some room. You fiddled with your skirt.

" [ name ] [ last name ], and you?" You asked, your eyes continuing to look towards the empty piano. He followed your gaze, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm Regulus Black, would you like me to teach you how to play the piano?" Regulus asked, tilting his body to invite you towards the piano. You instantly took a step with him, both of you walking towards the bench. He sat first, patting the spot beside him.

"Will you?" You asked, an excited tone in your voice. He patted the seat again, giving you another small smile.

" Of course, I always have time for a pretty lady," Regulus replied, his words making your stomach flutter. You sank down onto the oak bench, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'm a complete amateur, I don't even know the chords," You reason with him, blinking your eyes as you look towards the piano keys.

"That's alright, we all start somewhere," Regulus says, his fingers placing themselves against the white keys, pressing them together to make an angelic sound. You're reminded of a viridian green from the nice tone.

"Here, place your fingers against these keys," Regulus explains, letting you raise your hands before taking your fingers and placing them against the keys. You eagerly press the key, a sage green colour filling your mind.

Regulus watched you with tender eyes, seeing as you got so fascinated with the small chord. You instantly pressed another one, trying to follow the same melodies he had showed you.

Your spine tingled when a horrible chord was pressed, making the melody remind you of the colour cinnamon brown. You scrunched your shoulders, pulling your fingers back.

"Hey, you've almost got it and I haven't even taught you yet, don't give up now," Regulus effused, his fingers gently grabbing yours as he placed them back over the keys.

He dragged your fingers through keys, playing the melody through you. You’re reminded of the viridian green again, seeing new colours flash through with each key being played.

"Your turn now," Regulus says, his fingers rest over yours for a while longer than normal, before tearing them away to place them on his knees. You give him a look, only being met with a comfortable expression.

You tap the keys slowly, remembering the colours and placements. Before you know it, you've completed a slowed version of the melody. Your heart jumps, excited to get it right.

"Yes, that's good! Your learning quicker than I thought, are you sure you've never played before?" He asked, leaning his head to the side. You watched his hair tilt with his head, gentle curls framing his face. You snap out of it, answering his question.

"I see colours, with each note. It's hard to explain, but when I hear things I get reminded of objects or colours, does that make sense?" You ask, feeling slightly exposed to admit your thought process. Regulus pressed his lips together, analyzing you. You feel stupid, but that feeling flows away with his next words.

"You have synesthesia?" Regulus concluded, but he asked it more like a question. You nodded your head, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah. You're familiar with the term?" You asked him, tilting your head back to the piano. Regulus kept looking at you, interpreting his final thoughts. Nothing terrible could ever possibly come from a person like her, Regulus concluded.

“I am. I heard a Professor mention it once, always stuck with me after,” Regulus explained, just as he finished talking, someone walked into the common room. You both turned your head to look, not realizing you had been infatuated with his eyes.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Slytherin teased, his eyes switching between the two of you in a suggested way. You turn your head slightly, a blush against your cheeks.

“Yes, you are,” Regulus stated plainly, flashing his eyes towards you. His hand came to your back, holding it gently. You couldn’t have flushed red any faster, your face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh,” The boy said, not expecting that response.

“It’s alright,” you chimed in, but the boy only waved his hand and walked towards the steps to the boy's dormitory. You felt foolish, you didn’t want to upset the boy.

“Don’t worry about him, he was teasing me, you’ve done nothing wrong, my love,” Regulus responded, turning his body back to face the piano, but he kept his gaze on you.

“You know him?” You perked up, looking up towards his eyes. He gave a smile, finding your embarrassed state adoring.

“Yes, he’s one of my dorm mates,” Regulus told you, leaning closer. His hand rubbed your lower back softly, soothing you.

“Oh, well that makes me feel better,” you retorted, eyes turning towards the piano. You placed your hands back onto the keys, giving him a side look. “May we continue?”

“Of course,” Regulus replied, his hand leaving your back. You felt cold without his hand but shook it off as you started to play the melody again. This time, you played it a bit quicker. You still missed some important keys, but Regulus just responded with a faint, “don’t worry, I know you’ll get it soon,”

“Can you explain what colours you see each note you play? He asked after you finished playing a slowed version of the melody. You nodded, moving your fingers to the first key.

“The thinner notes remind me of warm colours and the deeper notes are cold colours. For instance, this one reminds me of a pale yellow,” you say, pressing the higher sounding key. A ping sounded through the room before you moved your fingers to the second note.

“This one is... like a blue sky kind of colour,” You go on, explaining colour after colour. Before you know it, you reach the end of the melody.

“What does this note remind you of?” Regulus asked, pressing one of the deeper notes. You look at his dark green tie, wiggling your fingers to hold the thin material. You tug at his tie gently, signalling him to look towards it.

“It sounds like this colour,” You contort, smiling as you let go of his tie and use your palm to make it neat again. Regulus coughs from the back of his throat, shifting in his seat. You realize how insane you must be, touching the tie of a guy you just met.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you,” You say sheepishly. You look up towards Regulus, but he’s turned his head, you see the faint glow of a red on his cheeks. He brings his hand to hold his face, hiding it swiftly to try and calm himself.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles into his hand, he shivers before steadying himself. Regulus turns his head back, keeping his eyes away from yours.

A growing awkward silence fills the room, looking away from each other. You grab the oak bench cushions, pressing your feeling into it through your hands. You rock back slightly, but you feel him move closer to you, his arm brushed against yours.

“Do you think you’ve perfected the melody yet?” Regulus asked his sweaty hands on his knees. He rubbed his thighs, trying to wipe the sweat away. He felt like a nervous wreck.

“I think so,” you say, moving your hands as you place them against the starting keys. You wait for a second, before pressing the keys. You go on with the melody, getting each key right. Your fingers move over the white ivory keys, the viridian green filling your mind again.

“You’re so pretty,” Regulus lets the words slip out, his eyes filled with this type of adoration as he watches you. You snap your head to look towards him, gulping slightly. The melody falls short, your fingers stopping.

“I’m sorry, I should have said that,” Regulus quickly covers up, his ears red as he can’t keep his darkened eyes from yours.

“Not that you aren’t pretty, because you most definitely are! I just shouldn’t have told you, we’ve just met and I don’t want to be a creep,” Regulus goes onto explain, feeling embarrassed himself as he fumbled over his words.

“That’s okay! I don’t mind, I think you’re pretty as well,” You replied, looking over his sculpted features again. Regulus gave you a slanted look, he has never been called pretty before.

“I mean... handsome, you’re just really mesmerizing is what I mean,” you stumble over your words, feeling your ears start to heat up, the tips red.

“Thank you,” He responded, his body leaning closer to yours. He shakes out of it before he can lean any closer, your breath slipping from the shared moment. He turned back to the piano, placing his ring clasped fingers against the keys.

“Shall I teach you another melody?” Regulus asked, looking over. You nodded, sitting back into the backless bench. You watched as he looked towards the keys, eyes closed slightly. His eyelashes fell perfectly over his cheeks as he played the new melody.

Your mind flooded with the colour deep sea blue, the chords sounded so mellow. Once the melody came to an end, he turned to look towards you.

“It’s your turn now,” Regulus states, your fingers coming to replace his. You feel uncertain, you had been distracted by Regulus's beauty, you hadn’t watched his hand placement.

You press the first key, a deep sound flowing through you. The pleasant sounds didn't last long because you had played the wrong key, making the melody uneven. You give a sheepish look towards Regulus.

“It’s alright, let me take you through the placements again,” Regulus comforts quickly, his hands coming to rest over yours. He directs your fingers back to the starting keys. Regulus moves his body, tilting it weirdly.

“Here, let’s stand up,” He says, helping you stand before pushing the bench back to give you both room. His body comes behind yours, his hands placing yours back over the piano keys.

“Is this okay?” Regulus asks his whispers sending tingles through your spine. You nod slightly, your body leaning back into his. “Yes,”

Regulus starts to help you press the keys, taking you through the beautiful melody again. His hand are much bigger than yours, covering them from view. His cheek brushes against your hair, almost nuzzling closer to you.

When the melody ends, he stays still. You both don’t move, his hands over yours, his breath fanning over your ear in a calming way. Your heart beats faster, turning around slightly. Your lips part, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Regulus whispered, his eyes switching between your eyes to your lips. You nod quickly, words getting stuck in your throat.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, watching as you close your eyes shut. You felt your face boil, feeling a nervous nausea wash over you.

His knuckle brushed your warm cheek, before his fingers cupping your jaw softly. You leaned up on your toes, your hand on his chest. Regulus pulled himself down, his lips meeting yours.

You leaned further on your toes, pressing yourself closer. It felt so new, being in this secret moment together made you pull him closer, wanting it to last forever.

He felt rich, the placement of his cold hands, the way his lips tasted like mint. you grabbed his coat, fingers squeezing around the fabric. You leaned back down, breaking the kiss. You let your eyes fall looking at his shiny shoes.

“Hey, look at me pretty girl,” Regulus said with a gentle voice, his fingers lifting your jaw. Your eyes met his again, your stomach filling with butterflies. He had a grin on his face, his once pale cheeks filled with colour.

“Would you like to go on a date with me? There is a wonderful restaurant just outside of Hogsmeade, I would like to converse with you more,” Regulus invited you. You nodded your head, feeling foolish once again for not using your words.

“I would love to,” you choked out, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and neither could Regulus.

Regulus frowned when he took a look at his watch, he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I have to go, I’m meeting up with a professor,” Regulus said sadly, holding you close before letting you slip away from his hands. “I’ll see you on our date?”

“of course,” you agreed, watching as he gave a small gorgeous smile before slipping out of the Slytherin common room.

You sat on the nearby couch, resting your head in your hands as you let out a satisfied squeal. This day, could not have gone any better.

[scp-l4-clef-alto-001]

a little while ago, on a discord group chat i made a joke about clef almost always calling kondraki "kon" or "konny" in canon and how that was Not Straight

i later deleted it out of embarrassment (i don't actually know why i thought i was gonna get laughed at or something)

looking back on it i just don't think i can... seriously ship clefdraki? like i found bottledick very funny but as a pair, in canon, they're kind of just assholes to each other and that's about it. if you put them in the same room there's a higher chance they'd be going for each other's throats than they would be fucking

and it's not that i don't think they're a good pairing.. i do! it's just i can't really get into it as much and while it does have potential it's just not something i can Shove My Brain Into. yk. like i love horror and gay people but for whatever reason they don't work here

and also as an aceflux person like. i love clef on the aroace spectrum. i like that a lot. and so it's hard for me to view him in a relationship that is anything more than alterous at the most tbh.

In my opinion, the only wrong way to do Clefshipping is to claim that there is only one true interpretation of Clefshipping. If you ship Clef with thousands of hot bikini babes, or thousands of hot speedo men, or want to write Chuck Tingle-esque tales of Clef being pounded up the ass by his own ass, or if you ship Bottledick, that's fine.

But in joining the grand society of Clefshippers, you must also acknowledge that Clef contains myriads. Somewhere in the multiverse of Clefs, there is a Clef that deserves to be shipped with as many people in as many multiverses as possible. And in so doing, you must also pledge that, no matter if other Clefships might cause you squick, you must also acknowledge that they are, in some way allowed to exist.

(Mind you, there are some Clefships that I prefer to exist over THERE, while I exist over HERE, but as long as over THERE doesn't intrude on me minding my own business over HERE, I'm fine with it.)

Clef

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 10: Accommodations

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Thank you guys again for being so kind about the new posting schedule (or lack thereof). Your comments and messages and rbs always make me laugh and cry (in a a good way).This is just a lil chapter about them being awkward and cute after The Kiss, and introducing some bigger plot stuff. You'll wanna buckle up for the next one ;)

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary: Some creep is stalking the team and all you can think about is kissing Hotch. 

Words: 2059

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

The BAU had a stalker.

To put it in a way more relevant to your views on the matter: the BAU’s stalker was interfering with the (hopefully) budding spark between you and Hotch.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care that there was potentially unhinged maniac apparently obsessed with the team, it’s just that when you got the slightly panicked phone call from JJ that Morgan, Reid, Garcia, and herself had all found letters on their doorstep professing an alarming fascination with the members of the team, you couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated that the ordeal was bound to put a pause on the progress you two had made.

That is, until you went to leave your apartment in the morning and found an unassuming envelope shoved under the door. You opened it with shaking fingers to a note written on thick cardstock, scrawled in black, seeping ink as if written by an old-fashioned quill.

I’ve been paying attention to your team for some time - quite the impact you’ve made on the world of crime. The heroes of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit! I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK, hm?

Anyways, I had to see for myself. I must admit, finding you was much easier than I would have anticipated given your ‘status.’ I thought I’d drop you this note to say hi and propose a deal. A Game, of sorts.

The Game goes like this: I leave you notes, and you try to catch me! Easy, yes? This is day 1. How many days until you find me?

Xoxo Talk soon,

G

You put the note in your bag and, after double checking your door was locked (not that the flimsy deadbolt the landlord had installed would have done much to keep an intruder out anyways), you rushed to the office. You dropped your note on the table in the conference room where the team had gathered and pointed at it tremulously. 

“I got one too. I touched it, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rossi interrupted. “We dusted the others; there was nothing. I doubt yours was any different.”

Hotch plucked your letter up and scanned it quickly before tossing it back on the table. “It’s exactly the same as the others. Nothing identifiable.”

“Why didn’t we get them?” asked Prentiss.

“Access,” said Garcia, notably less cheery than usual. The team turned to her for clarification.

“You three are hard to get to,” she explained. “Hotch and Prentiss live in secure apartment buildings. Rossi has a gated property with security that can rival the President’s. Those of us who don’t live the high life are just... out in the open.”

“So that’s encouraging, right? That the unsub either couldn’t or wouldn’t go through the extra trouble of getting to all of us?” JJ asked, hopeful.

Morgan shook his head. “I dunno if you can interpret any part of what this creep is doing to intimidate us as ‘encouraging.’”

“Does it read as intimidation, though?” mused Reid. 

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Morgan responded. “What’s your take on the language?”

Reid took a millisecond to reread the letter and pursed his lips. “Though the language isn’t directly threatening, the concept of a game implies either winning or losing. He - it’s almost certainly a he - doesn’t mention the consequences for either situation, which could imply that there are none, but that seems unlikely. There’s also the matter of separating himself from others in line three - ‘I’m sure the world wishes they had you during Bundy or BTK,’ not we. He’s trying to distinguish himself to us in some way, which means he wants to be noticed, and I don’t think there’s anything in this language that excludes the possibility of him doing something drastic in order to be.”

“So not encouraging,” said Prentiss dryly. “The question is, why us? Is this personal; did we put someone close to him away?”

“It could be, but the language in the opening seems sarcastic almost, like he’s mocking us,” noted Rossi. 

Morgan nodded in agreement. “It’s a challenge. He’s trying to tell us we’re not all we’re cracked up to be.”

The analysis worried you, because you felt you were the only member of the team for whom that statement might have been true. 

“So, what then?” you asked. “Review security footage and see if we can find anything?”

“Already did!” chirped Garcia. “Hotch had me up all night reviewing the tapes.”

For the first time, you noticed the dark circles under her standard coat of heavy makeup. You looked at Hotch, expecting to find some shame in his expression, but found none. 

“If there was anyone weird creeping around your dwellings last night, I didn’t see ‘em. I even looked through the street cameras in the area. Granted, none of you have a security camera pointed directly at your door, which might not be a bad idea after this -”

“Hold on,” Morgan interrupted, “you didn’t check her apartment though, right?” referring to you. “Cuz she just found it this morning?”

Garcia perked up, but you shot her down with a shake of your head. “Sorry guys, my place isn’t nearly nice enough to have security cameras.”

The team looked unperturbed by that, except for Hotch, who met your eyes with a look you couldn’t quite place. 

“What do we do, then? Wait for another letter?” JJ asked.

“That’s all we can do until we have more evidence,” said Hotch, visibly frustrated. He hated waiting, you knew that. You all hated it. It felt like watching a car without its parking brake on slowly start to roll down a hill.

“If that’s all, sir…”

Hotch nodded at Garcia. “You’re all dismissed. Business as usual for now. If he craves acknowledgement, best not to give it to him unless we have to.”

The team filtered out, and you made to follow them, but before making it through the doorway, Hotch called you back. He shifted feet, cleared his throat, and looked at you.

“About the comment you made earlier,” he started.

What comment? You wracked your brain trying to remember if you’d said something rude, or something that hinted at what happened between you two, but came up short.

He noticed the puzzled look on your face and clarified. “When you said your apartment complex wasn’t nice enough to have security cameras. I wanted to say that -” he ran his hand across his jaw, clearly uncomfortable, “- I know the internship salary isn’t impressive, and if you feel you’re unable to afford safe accommodation, I’d be more than happy to talk to Strauss about -”

“Oh, God, no.” You felt as if your face was on fire. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way, my apartment is fine - I mean of course there’s things that could be improved - but in no way do I feel unsafe.” 

“Well, good. Okay then.”

Before you could make your exit and spare you both from the residual awkwardness of the interaction, he spoke again. “There’s one more thing. Given that whoever wrote this note has displayed his willingness to come to our doorsteps, JJ is staying with Emily for the time being, Reid with Rossi, and Garcia with Morgan.”

You smirked at the last pairing. Leave it to those two to capitalize on a stalker to bunk up together. 

“I was going to have the Bureau get you a hotel in the meantime, since he did come to your apartment, but Garcia suggested that since we live so close, you could just… stay with me.”

Holy shit.

There was a pained look on his face as he finished the sentence as if he recognized what an utterly bad idea it was, but hadn’t had the good sense to reject it himself. He looked at you, expecting an answer despite the lack of a question mark at the end of that statement, and you struggled mightily to compose yourself to deliver an acceptance that didn’t appear uncomfortably enthusiastic. 

You must have taken too long, because he immediately started to retract his offer. “I already told her it was completely inappropriate; the rest of the team is used to staying together for cases but given you just started, and after the last few days I completely understand -”

“No!” You cut him off. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I was going to say at all. I’d love to. I mean, I think it’s a good idea. I’d feel a lot safer…”

‘With you around?’ Is that too much?

Fuck it. 

“... with you around,” you finished, and you swear you saw him push back a smile.

“Alright, then. I’ll let Garcia know.”

You made a mental note to send that woman a thank-you card.

***

As the workday wound down, you were surprised to Hotch turn out his office light and walk out at the same time as you did.

“Early night?” you teased as you walked to your cars in the parking garage, despite it being 7 pm. 

He chuckled. “It would have been rude of me to keep you hanging around until I decided to leave.”

Right. You were leaving together. Because you were going back to his apartment. Together. The undeniable domesticity of the moment put a skip in your step, and you couldn’t help but wish this was happening under different circumstances.

“So I’ll just stop by my apartment and grab my things?”

“What? No,” Hotch responded, frowning. “I’m coming with you. The whole point of all of this is to avoid being alone.”

And that’s how you ended up speeding down the highway like a madwoman, leaving Hotch in your dust, taking the stairs two at a time, and frantically scrambling to get your apartment in order. It wasn’t terrible; not as if you had rotting food sitting out or something (probably because you didn’t actually cook enough for that), but the recent caseload and spending so much time with Hotch in the mornings had certainly pushed general organization to the wayside. You shoved the growing pile of dirty laundry into your closet, straightened up the coffee table, and were in the middle of packing your suitcase when you heard a knock at the door.

Giving the apartment a quick once-over to make sure you hadn’t missed something utterly humiliating, you opened the door to an unimpressed Hotch.

“I could have pulled you over for speeding, you know,” he said as he strode into your living room.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, “I wanted to make sure this place wasn’t a mess the first time you saw it.”

He cocked an eyebrow and you realized how that came out - the first time, as if there were going to be many more - and you coughed and looked away.

“Anyways. I’m almost done packing, just gotta grab a couple more things.”

He nodded and you hurried to it, wanting to get him out of your apartment as quickly as possible. Normally you’d have jumped at the chance to be alone in a quiet place with him, but the way his eyes were scanning the room made you nervous that he was learning more about you in a very short amount of time than you felt entirely comfortable with.

***

You walked into Hotch’s apartment for the second time ever to find it just as clinically neat as before, except for a set of sheets and blankets laid out on the couch. Grinning, you gestured to them.

“Thought you said you were sure I would say no?”

It was his turn to be shamefaced. “Just in case. Besides,” he shot back, grabbing your bags from where you’d deposited them by the couch, “You’re taking the bed.”

“Like hell I am!” you scoffed, forgoing propriety. “I’m not making my boss sleep on the couch in his own apartment.”

“Considering I, as you mentioned, am your boss,” he responded, “I will be making that decision.”

You plopped down on the couch. “Unless I just refuse to move.”

He stood a few paces away and glared, but gave up and dropped your bags all the same.

You could have sworn you heard him mutter “brat” under his breath, but that didn’t sound like something Aaron Hotchner would say, did it?

Taglist (I got a bunch of new ones so message me if I forgot to add you!):  @stop-drop-and-drumroll @criminalmindzjunkie @xoprincessmel @cevanswhre @addie5264 @klinenovakwinchester​ @honeyshores​ @violentvulgarvolatile @masumiyetimziyanoldu @violetclifford​ @pipersaccomplice​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @groovygoob​ @captainhyenafan​ @thebadassbitchqueen​

[fun-with-colors]

Persona 5 Royal and “Poe’s Masquerade”

I recently (read: a few minutes ago) saw a post about how Beneath the Mask is a brilliant and tragic character study of Joker, and I felt compelled to talk about some of the awesome references in Persona 5 Royal (not sure if they’re all in the vanilla game, never played it.)

So, in Beneath the Mask, there’s the line “I’m a shapeshifter, at Poe’s Masquerade,” right? Which is a reference to Edgar Allan Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. Seems like a pretty cut-and-dry thing, it ties into the theme of there not being anything beneath the mask, as was the case in Poe’s Masque. Well, I am here to tell you that that particular reference is anything but simple. It’s brilliant. 

Fair warning: this is gonna be a long post.

First off, some context on The Masque of the Red Death. It’s a short story where, basically, there’s this plague going on. It’s called the Red Death, it makes you sweat blood and die in less than an hour. Terribly contagious, the Red Death. So this rich guy gathers up all of his friends and allies to hole up in his abbey, and locks the gates behind them. A few months in, they decide to throw a rocking masquerade party. 

The party is structured as such: 

There are 7 rooms in order, each color-coded. Blue, then purple, then green, then orange, and then violet. The last room is black, and lit up by red lights. There’s a big imposing clock in the last room, and whenever it chimes the hour everyone stops partying until the clock is done, and then resumes. 

Everything’s going great while people are dying outside until midnight, when this new guy shows up in a gaudy red costume that looks like a corpse killed by the red death. The host chases this guy down with a dagger. They go through all the rooms, and once they reach the last room the host finally looks the mysterious stranger in the face, and instantly dies. The guests panic and remove the mask to see who it was, only to find that there was nothing there. The guests then all also die to the Red Death. 

Grim, right? Well, it also has a lot of striking similarities to Shido’s palace.

The basic premise of some rich asshole trying to save only his friends from the plague on the land, only this time the plague is one that he himself has orchestrated: the mental shutdowns. Those on his ship are safe from being permanently cancelled, while those who aren’t (like the Shujin principal) are not. 

The letters of introduction parallel the 7 rooms, since all of that preparation is in the eventual goal of unlocking the final room.

The guests on the ship are all wearing masks that look a heck of a lot like masquerade masks. 

The intruder, ie: the thieves. 

 as a last-ditch effort to kill the thieves, Shido takes a pill that will temporarily kill him, mirroring the moment when the host dies in The Masque of the Red Death. 

But wait! We’re not done!

That is just the first layer of references

This is why I said that it was gonna get super long. Strap in folks, because those references aren’t even an original choice that the game made. They’re INHERITED references. Also I have a lot to say, and am bad at being succinct. Well, they say that if you can’t be concise, you can at least be interesting, and I hope that I’ve managed that. 

Some more context:

Akechi is based off of the famous Japanese detective Akechi Kogoro. The author of the Akechi Kogoro stories is a man by the pen name of Edogawa Ranpo. If that name sounds familiar, it should. It is, as wikipedia puts it, “A rendering of [Edgar Allan] Poe’s name.” 

There is one Akechi Kogoro story, called Gold Mask (Or The Gold Mask, or The Golden Mask), that is especially relevant here. In it, Akechi goes up against the mysterious Gold Mask, who turns out to be none other than Arsene Lupin. 

It should not be surprising how many similarities there are, but I am somehow surprised nonetheless. 

These are some insane connections, y’all. I’m basically just gonna retell the events of the story because it’s mostly relevant anyways. It’s not even all about the red death thing. Also I just really like this section of the story. This is gonna get rambly, but bear with me here. 

Ok so first plot twist: this book also references The Masque of the Red Death. Big time. Like, there is a chapter titled “The Masque of the Red Death.”

The setting: a masquerade ball put on by the French Ambassador (The Count de Rouzieres). The ball takes place in seven chambers, in the same color order as in the original story. This time, however, they are set up so that one can only see one room at a time. Do note that the final room is described as making things look as though they are “somehow not of this world.”

The inevitable twist

Guess who shows up unannounced at the moment the clock strikes midnight? Ding ding ding! That’s right, it’s the Gold Mask. 

(The next chapter is called “The Gold Death”)

The investigator who had been Akechi’s sidekick (more on that later) chases after the Gold Mask, along with the Count and one other dude. 

I’m just gonna quote the book’s description of the third man. 

“It was impossible to identify the man on account of his eccentric costume. [...] He wore a form-fitting black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black socks, a black cloth on his head, the ends of which rose sharply into two long horns, and, of course a face mask.”

...Yeah. I was way more surprised to find out that that design is straight out of the source material than to find out who that mysterious third man was. (more on why akechi was disguised in a bit)

The Count is the first into the final room with the Gold Mask. No sooner does he enter than the other two men hear a gunshot. They run in, fearing the worst. 

Turns out it’s the Gold Mask who’s been shot by the Count. They pull off the mask and discover... the Count’s interpreter. One of the investigators declares that the interpreter must be the gold mask, and this all can be called off. The guy’s dying, everything’s fine. 

Suddenly, the man with the black mask starts laughing. They demand he removes his mask, he does so and reveals himself as Akechi Kogoro. Akechi insists that this man cannot be the Gold Mask, because Arsene Lupin is the gold mask.

Everyone else thinks he’s ridiculous, until he gets the dying interpreter to confess that yes, he was working for Arsene Lupin.

Now. The part that makes this all really funny is that as the interpreter is dying, he points out to Akechi who Arsene Lupin is (since Lupin has so many disguises as to not fundamentally have a true identity). The interpreter points to (dun dun duhDUH) The Count of Rouzieres, the French Ambassador to Japan. 

Obviously the police commissioner is finding that hard to believe, but when Akechi produces an envelope that he claims is evidence, he orders that the rest of the investigators and guests leave the room, so that it’s only him, the POV character, Akechi, and the Count. 

The letter is apparently from another well-known detective familiar with Arsene Lupin, full of evidence that proves that the Count of Rouzieres is actually Arsene Lupin. Incriminating stuff, blah blah blah. 

Arsene admits to being, well, arsene, and then proceeds to have a superficially amicable conversation with Akechi. He then pulls his gun out of nowhere and threatens to shoot akechi. Suddenly, the detective who supplied Akechi with the note (his name is Weber) jumps out of the clock mechanism behind Arsene and confiscates his gun. Arsene Lupin is about to be arrested, with no way out. One of the investigators pulls out his own gun on Arsene, and both Akechi and the police commissioner are very experienced in making arrests. Even beyond that, there’s an entire crowd of investigators waiting outside the only door. 

We cut to the aforementioned crowd of investigators, who have just noticed that the voices from inside the room have gotten very quiet. After knocking and hearing only silence, they decide to open the door.

The room is empty. 

We cut back to Arsene, who is acting very confident despite his precarious circumstances. He says that he has the power to create such a catastrophe as to make it impossible for them to arrest him, before calmly walking out of the only door in the room. 

The detectives call for the police officers outside to arrest Arsene, but... there doesn’t seem to be anyone there to do it. He locks the door to the room from the outside, and flees out of an open glass window and down a fire escape to his waiting allies. (very similar to the way Joker attempts to escape from the Casino, and VERY similar to how he ultimately escapes from the interrogation room.)

It turns out that the “black-velvet room” was actually a cleverly disguised elevator, with the mechanism in the clock. Arsene used the elevator to separate the detectives from the rest of the investigators, and to make his escape for real. It is SHOCKING to me that of all the things in persona 5, the interrogation room escape is ENTIRELY true to the source material. It’s wild. 

Anyways, I’ll stop there. I’ll probably make another post with all of the miscellaneous connections between the Gold Mask and Persona 5, since there are a lot. I’ve had this topic sitting in my brain for a while. 

Edit: I forgot to get to why Akechi was disguised. Well, it turns out that’s another connection: Akechi had been presumed dead. Everybody thought he had been shot. Turns out it was just a fake version of himself, a trick taken from Sherlock Holmes. (and one that shows up in Persona 5 Royal). He was taking advantage of the fact that everyone thought he was dead to get more info without being suspected. 

[frustratedpoetwrites]

Breathless

Fem!jily February.

I think it was @blitheringmcgonagall who gave me the prompt. “What are your intentions towards my friend?” And as this week is Hogwarts and canon-verse it is now time for me to share this with you all.

read on AO3 where my love of italics can be properly appreciated.

When Jamie ran in from the cold outside—her face shining brightly from the joy of running with her friends—she spotted Lily straight away. There weren’t many redheads in Gryffindor, and none with quite the same shade of hair as her. It always drew Jamie’s attention, like a flickering candle seen out of the corner of your eye. Without waiting to see what her friends were about to do, she kicked off her shoes and shucked out of her cloak before joining Lily on the window seat, taking full advantage of the chance to catch her alone. Sitting down, she noticed absently the view below this window was where she had been playing with the boys just moments earlier.   

“Alright, Evans?” she greeted warmly, tucking her toes under the blanket and hoping that Lily wouldn’t call her out for intruding on her space, wishing this new not-quite-sure-what-they-were thing meant she could join her without asking. To Jamie’s surprise, Lily moved to rest her very warm feet on top of her own chilled ones without a word. This sudden warmth made her realise just how cold the rest of her was, causing goosebumps to erupt on her arms. She had no idea what they spoke about, she was trying so hard not to obsess about the way Lily’s feet were so much neater than hers, how they were resting gently on top without pressing down, and how this unexpected closeness was making her heart thunder in her eardrums.

Lily had asked her a question, she was certain. Some part of Jamie’s brain that was not overwhelmed by Lily Evans perfect toes came up with an answer. Just when she thought this moment couldn’t get any better, or worse depending on how one felt about the imminent chance of self combustion. Lily reached for her hands, capturing them in hers, delicate fingers cupping her much more ungainly digits, pulling them to her face almost in slow motion, Jamie gulped and hoped to Merlin she wasn’t looking as panicked as she was feeling. Lily’s breath on her numb fingers warmed her insides and made her abdomen do a funny little swoop. She swallowed hard. This was fine, she was fine! Lily was just looking out for her. This was what girl friends did right? When she did it again, Lily’s eyes locked with her own, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her soft lips no doubt picking up on the rapid pulse hammering against Lily’s fingertips, she realised she just couldn’t handle it at all and she bolted.

 As soon as she left the window seat and Lily’s touch she felt rather foolish for panicking, but it had seemed the safest thing to do at that moment. Going on instinct had not always served her well when it came to her red headed roommate so the more time she spent around her the more she held herself back from doing something rash. She had rushed away from Lily when the urge to kiss her had become so strong she had not known what to do with herself. She’d lied, saying that she needed to get her wand from the dorm room when it was safely stowed in the pocket of her cloak lying at her feet. She didn’t even go near the girl’s stairs like she said she was, instead she rushed straight up to the boy’s dorm, where she felt most comfortable being herself. They were all there... warm, clean, dry and not in a complete Lily related crisis. Free from frozen fingers and a heart beating out of their chests like she was.

She slumped onto Sirius’ bed throwing an arm over her eyes, yelling out in frustration, as the adrenaline of the situation finally started to eb. 

“Remus, I can’t be too sure but I think something is bothering our dear friend?” Sirius’ voice carried over to her from his place by the log burner that was crackling merrily in the centre of their room. She sat up and looked at him pleadingly.

“I can’t handle this, that woman is torturing me on purpose. You should have seen her just now!” She pointed to the door to emphasise her point, but nobody was looking at her. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Remus retorted emerging from his trunk with a pair of socks in his hand. “If you are talking about who I think you are?”

“Of course I bloody am, nobody else is out to get me like she is,” she whined, falling back on the bed once more and looking at the ceiling through a suspiciously large hole in the drapes above. Jamie smirked at it despite the way she was feeling, remembering the day that had happened.

“Who’s she talking about?” Pete asked. “Whatever their problem is I’m sure we can sort them out. You always come up with something, Prongs.”

“Thanks for your confidence in me Pete, but I really don’t think my skills for managing mischief are going to help me out here. Even if they could, I just turn into a babbling idiot around her. I just can’t handle it, what am I supposed to do with these feelings? She can’t have any idea what she does to me, or if she does she enjoys watching me suffer.”

“Sirius, help our friend out,” Remus ordered, throwing the balled up socks at him. He turned and the sound of his name and caught them deftly in one hand, before throwing them at Peter who yelped in surprise, then giggled, before throwing them at Jamie who caught them easily, still prone on the bed.

“Alas, I fear poor Prongs is beyond any form of help, completely lost in the depths of those...how did you describe them earlier? Enchanting green eyes?”

“I know, I’m fucked!” Jamie yelled again as she looked at her fingers, still haunted by the touch of those dainty hands. The room went quiet for a time, Jamie didn’t see the silent exchange happening between Remus and Sirius as she spiralled in a dilemma of her own making. Somehow at some point, the fun banter and the sharp comments back and forth had softened, Lily had stopped storming off when she lost an argument, she had started going more thoughtful instead. Around the same time as this Jamie had noticed how many shades of green there could be in a person’s eyes, how Lily’s soft laugh was the most magical thing ever, made all the more special when it was Jamie herself who had caused it to happen. Jamie had never felt any kind of way about anybody before Lily, and she doubted she ever would again. The silence had gone on for far too long, Jamie watched Remus out of the corner of her eye as he was blatantly pointing to her.

“Why?” Sirius yelled out suddenly Jamie lifted her head to see Remus throw up his hands in exasperation. “She seems to be doing a perfectly good job of messing it up on her own, without my help. I mean what the fuck do I know? I don’t understand why she can’t just ask her straight out.” Jamie sat up hopefully an idea forming in her head as if she’d just been hit with a brain-boosting charm. She jumped off Sirius’ bed and hugged his shoulders, leaning against his back, he returned her affection half-heartedly patting her arms,  when she let go and spun him around holding him at arm's length grinning like an idiot, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do I have the feeling you are going to ask me to do something I don’t want to do?”

*

Lily Evans was just sitting in a window seat reading her book occasionally being distracted by the goings-on of the group of people in the misty grounds below her. She didn’t mean to watch, but somehow lately her eyes were constantly drawn to those four, and one in particular. She bit her lip thoughtfully as she looked down on them, marvelling at the way they were all just so comfortable and happy together.

They were playing a game (they often were) to which nobody apart from them could ever understand. It seemed to involve a stick and a ball. A ball that was enchanted to move on its own and produced puffs of different coloured smoke whenever it was hit with the stick. Lily wondered if this was their interpretation of one of the Muggle sports they had asked her endless questions about. 

Eventually, they grew tired of their game and disappeared from her view and Lily went back to her book. 

“Alright, Evans?” a familiar voice called out before joining her on the window seat, sitting at the opposite side to her. They smelled strongly of the outside freshness, their face flushed from the cold, with droplets of water beading on the flyaways in their hair. She had already kicked off her shoes and removed her cloak, once sitting carelessly dumping it on the floor beside them. They swung their feet up to join hers in the no-man's-land between them. Toes wiggling themselves under the blanket that was covering her legs.

“Hi, Potter,” she replied, feeling the chill from her feet as they touched her leg. Without thinking she slid her socked feet over the top to try and warm them up a bit. Jamie watched her do it with a funny half-smile on her lips. “Did you have fun with the boys? Did you win your game?” She didn’t mean it to sound like she was talking to a child but sometimes she found herself just wanting to look after the raven-haired girl.

Jamie rubbed her hands together as she thought of a response, not noticing or not minding Lily’s tone, “Yeah, I had fun. You should’ve joined us, you would’ve liked it. I did win one game but the game’s never about winning, it’s about not losing.” She responded, continuing to rub her hands trying to get the heat back into them.

“Where’s your wand?” Lily asked when she saw Jamie still hadn’t performed her usual rapid warming and drying spells. Lily gestured for Jamie’s hands and she complied slowly as if she was expecting a trick.  Lily shuffled herself forward so she was leaning over her bent knees, and admired her friends hands, she had such nimble fingers, so adept at Quidditch and intricate transfiguration spells, large enough that she did not struggle to open jars in potions like Lily did. Smiling to herself she wrapped her hands around Jamie’s chilled fingers and blew on them gently. Lily could feel the other girl’s pulse quicken as the tips of her fingers rested on her wrist. She blew on her hands again this time a much longer and more deliberate breath, then looked up at Jamie through her eyelashes. Jamie swallowed hard, her glasses beginning to fog around the edges despite the anti misting charm she usually had on them. 

“I left it in my room, I better go get it and dry off my clothes,” and she grabbed her cloak and shoes and darted away from Lily towards the dorm rooms as if she was expecting McGonagall herself to swoop down and berate her for leaving her wet cloak on the common room floor. Lily leaned back against the wall and tried not to sigh. It was the same every time she tried to get close lately, Jamie would spook and run. 

“Oi, Evans?” came a strong male voice a while later, she turned her gaze slowly upon Sirius Black waiting for him to say more. “Can I have a word?”

“You can have several, Black,” she replied, arching an eyebrow trying to look stern. But her face cracked as he approached and she realised he wasn’t in the mood for their usual banter. She gestured to the empty space in her window seat and he joined her. Lounging with one leg off the edge as if he needed to make a quick escape, elbow resting on his bent knee. “So what’s up?” She asked expecting some homework question or a favour, but nothing was forthcoming. Sirius Black just sat there as if he wasn’t sure exactly what to say. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he eventually said.

“Don’t strain yourself,” she replied almost on instinct, she pressed her lips together in an apology when he looked at her flatly. 

“Something’s happening between you and my friend? — Don’t start denying it,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak. “You’ve both had doe-eyes for each other for ages. Have you two finally put aside whatever it was holding you back?”

“I don’t think I’m the person you should be having this chat with, Black.” She responded quietly not sure exactly herself what was going on so why should she need to share with him of all people? He didn’t know girls, didn’t seem to care much for them at all apart from one particular girl. Sirius didn’t take any notice of the simpering admirers who seemed to be constantly gazing at him, drawing sketches of him on their notebooks and giggling when he would flick his hair or announce to the whole common room something he thought was impressive. He was the perfect friend for someone like Jamie, another lost soul not sure of their place in this world. If she thought about it Lily was equally out of her place, having to find her own way as she went alone, separated from her muggle family. Even now after seven years at Hogwarts still occasionally uncertain of the most basic things wizard children grew up on. 

“I already know Jamie’s feelings about this. I want to know your intentions towards my friend?”

“My intentions?” She snorted, her battered copy of Sense and Sensibility still sitting beside her. “Are you her father or something because last I checked we weren’t living in a Jane Austin novel?” Sirius did not look too pleased by her response, she wondered if he even knew who Jane Austin was, if he didn’t he wasn’t likely to admit it. Instead of replying to her directly he crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. “She’s amazing, okay? Is that what you wanted me to say? She is funny and kind to her friends, she doesn’t care about what others think of her. She is so confident.”

“All these things are true, but you still haven’t answered my question.” His arms were still crossed but his eyes had softened and there was a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.

“Well every time I try to get close she runs away and I’m beginning to think she isn’t interested and is running away so she doesn’t hurt my feelings. I thought she liked me. I thought, maybe, she would want to be my girlfriend.  Now I think perhaps she was messing with me this whole time.” Sirius looked at her shrewdly.

“So you aren’t just playing games to get her to blush?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I have no idea, you don’t seem the type to do anything like that at all. I’ve been telling Jamie for weeks now she’s an idiot for thinking that way, but you see, she can’t think logically or objectively around you.”

“Oh,” Lily replied to this, touching her hand to her lip. “So she does want to be my girlfriend?”

“It sounds to me like you both need to have a proper chat and leave me out of this,” Sirius declared in a strange voice as if he wasn’t talking to Lily at all.

“Do you know where she went?” He stayed quiet for a time as if he was considering what to say to her, or he was listening to some sort of silent cue.

“She mentioned something about getting a hot drink from the kitchens,” she grinned at him as she stood up.

“You are a good man Sirius, I hope you know that. Jamie is lucky to have you as her friend.” He tried to shrug off her compliment but his pleased grin shone through.

“Don’t let everyone know that Evans, I have a reputation to upkeep.” Without thinking about it she kissed the top of his head and patted him on the shoulder before running off in the direction of the kitchens.

*

“She’s on her way, don’t fuck this up, Prongs.” Jamie smiled at Sirius before his image faded and she tucked the mirror back in her pocket and smoothed her hair nervously. Her heart was beating fast and she just wasn’t sure how to sit. She had managed to conjure up the convenient little bench on the way to the kitchens herself. It was a handy little spell to know. It had gotten her out of a few detentions because teachers found students sitting on benches reading, far less suspicious than students leaning on walls whistling. She sipped her tea again as she tried to settle the butterflies in her stomach, and cast a quick warming spell while she was waiting. She’d felt a little bad listening in to Lily and Sirius talking but it was her plan to tell Lily that she had done so at the right time. She heard the footsteps running in this direction and she looked up hopefully.

Lily came around the corner looking flushed. When she spotted Jamie her feet stopped and a smirk appeared on her face. 

“Why do I get the feeling that whole little conversation I just had with Sirius was set up by you? And you heard every word of it.” Jamie tried to keep her lopsided grin firmly on her face but she could feel her confidence at this moment wavering greatly, especially as Lily approached looking more determined than happy. Jamie gulped her reasons for doing what she had done trying to form on her lips, but her brain was not cooperating at this moment.

“Lily, I’m sorry I --” Her words were cut short abruptly by Lily holding her checks and tilting her face up to meet hers, she managed a moment to blink in shock before lips were being pressed against hers and she forgot about anything else but the feel of Lily’s hands holding her face, her hot breath as she smiled into those kisses, her giggle as Jamie reached out for her pulling her onto the bench. The tea set already taking up that space completely forgotten until the sound of it crashing on the floor made them leap apart as if it had scalded them.

“Are you okay? Sorry I should have moved it before I made you sit, you caught me off guard and I forgot it was there.” Jamie asked her breathless and panting slightly. Being close to Lily Evans always did strange things to her but now being this close, to actually having Lily’s hands in her hair. Being surrounded by the fresh apple scent of her shampoo, these feelings were erupting stronger and deeper and more intense than ever. They both looked down at the teapot now lying in a smashed mess on the stone floor and laughed at it. 

“It didn’t hurt me,” Lily replied softly, sounding like she had run further than the short corridor. Jamie didn’t know when they had started holding hands but she noticed their interlaced fingers and smiled, not quite believing this was actually happening. Lily’s hands had always looked so delicate, so feminine, compared to her own too big, too blunt, calloused hands.

“Are you sure? I’m sorry I should go get some more.” Lily stayed silent as she repaired the china and effortlessly floated it over to sit on the silver tray. 

“Jamie, I’m fine and I really don’t care about the tea.” She took a breath and looked up at her with a light in her eyes as a small smile appeared. “I care about you. Now can we go somewhere less public than this corridor? I want to…” She bit her lip before she went on, making Jamie momentarily forget her own name, “continue this chat somewhere more private.” Lily stood still holding onto her hand and pulled her up to join her. She grabbed her other hand, lifted the palm of it up to her face and pressed her lips to it so gently. Jamie was finding it hard to breathe again. Jamie watched her lips hungrily desperately wanting to capture them with her own once more, to make Lily as breathless as she was making her.

[spacewitchqueen]

Out Of Touch

TOG Joe x Nicky ficlet in which Joe disagrees with Physics* (link in notes)

It was a quiet night for the team. They had checked in on Andy —she’d said she wanted some time alone, but they still called her every day—, and now Joe was absentmindedly watching a game on TV, lying on the couch, his head on Nicky’s lap. Nicky was reading, book held aloft on his right hand, his left hand playing with Joe’s hair. Nile was curled up on a high-back armchair, her attention on her phone. 

Joe was very much at ease, enjoying the sensation of Nicky’s warmth, the delicious tingle running down his back as Nicky’s fingers raked through his hair in a semi-hypnotic rhythm. Joe closed his eyes. Suddenly, Nile snorted, causing Joe to start.

“Listen to this, lovebirds.” Nile cleared her throat and read. “The sensation of touch is arguably a grand illusion, created as the brain’s way of interpreting interactions between our electrons and the electromagnetic field.”

“What are you reading?” Nicky asked, not taking his eyes from his book.

“An article on quantum mechanics, according to this, the concept of touching something does not exist because electrons repel each other, so my electrons repel the electrons of this chair.” Nile patted the armrest. “I’m really just hovering over it by an unfathomably small distance.”

“So what does that mean?” Nicky put his book down.

“That you’ve never really touched each other.” Nile smiled cheekily.

Joe was not having this, he sat up. “Let me see that.” Nile handed him her phone. He read the whole thing in a minute. “This cannot be real.”

“Well, that’s sort of the point.” Nile shrugged, taking back her phone. “What is real? Touch is just a way in which we interpret the physical world, but maybe our brains don’t know it is not actually possible.”

Joe looked at Nicky and then back at Nile. “No, that is wrong. Of course it is possible, how then would I explain the myriad of different sensations felt over the course of almost a thousand years?”

“A very active imagination?” Nile suggested.

“Imagination?” Joe rolled his eyes in exasperation. “No, this will not do.” He stood up, walked to the bedroom he shared with Nicky and closed the door.

Nicky and Nile looked at his retreating figure for a moment. When the bedroom door shut behind Joe, Nicky spoke. “I disagree with that as well.” He stood up. “I’m going to make dinner, do you want to eat something or is food also an illusion?” Nile laughed and joined Nicky in the kitchen.

Some time later they heard a door creaking open, another one clicking close and the unmistakable sound of the shower. Nicky bade Nile goodnight and went to his room. There was a note on the bed, it wasn’t addressed to him but it wasn’t folded or sealed so Nicky didn’t feel as if he were intruding. He picked it up and read it.

“If this, what we call reality, is but a trick of the mind I still would hold on to it. Because in it I was blessed with the love of my life. That more learned men than I should try to tell me that everything I know to be true is fiction…

How would they explain the simplest of feelings? What do they know of hard steel not just pressed against, but going through your flesh? Or perhaps that was just a figment of my imagination. Would they understand the thousand words held on the softest caress of my beloved’s hand? 

Touch doesn’t exist, they say, and yet I know I have touched him, my lover, my husband, my all and more; I have touched him and I have reveled in his touch. Nothing could be more real than my hand on his hand, my lips on his. If everything ceased to exist, I would still know this. Now and forever.”

Nicky smiled, he could hear Joe’s voice in his head saying those words, he read on.

“Time may be a construct, and yet, we’ve been together for a millennium. What do we care if some men of science now say that in all those years, through all those ages, we have never really touched?”

Nicky felt a familiar presence behind him. Joe rested his chin on Nicky’s shoulder. “I feel for them if they cannot even trust their senses.” 

“Nile didn’t mean to upset you, you know.” Nicky turned around to face Joe and put his arms around his waist.

“I know, I just can't imagine anyone believes that.”

Nicky closed the distance between them, they were standing as close as they could. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t. I believe I am touching you know, I believe I feel your heartbeat and I know you can feel mine.” He tilted his head and grazed Joe’s lips with his, wondering how else would anyone describe the intoxicating sensation that flooded him every time they kissed.

“I also believe that I love you.”

“I believe that too.”

Joe took the paper from Nicky’s hand and they silently agreed to test just how much they knew each other through touch alone.    

The next morning there was a note from Nile on the kitchen table. “This sounds much more like you two: ‘Quantum entanglement means two particles are inextricably linked and replicate each other’s every move, even if they are far apart’.”

“Entangled?” Nicky laughed.

“That’s a theory I can support.” Joe pulled Nicky into a deep kiss.

[blainehellyes]

Hell/Heaven

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Dr.Anika Warren)

Words: 3.5k ..I just..went off w this

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, trauma, swear words??

Author’s Note: Okay yall so idfk what this is tbh. I just had an idea and went on to write 3.5k words about it. This is my interpretation of the  aftermath of ch.11. I genuinely don’t know if this makes sense or it’s just a bunch of words slammed together.

Also, I did not really proofread this so please do feel free to point out any mistakes. I’m sorry for the mistakes.

I’m scared of writing people OOC and I’m still learning so please keep it in mind.

Anyway, I did not make it two parts but it’s pretty long so yeah.

Anika’s thoughts will be in italics.

xxxx

 It had been almost 16 hours since the combined diagnostics team along with her friends barged into the isolation ward and told her that they had found a cure. Eight hours since Ethan said the magic words 

“Get up. There are no traces of the toxin in  your body.”

She had been lightheaded, whether it was from happiness or if it was from some weird side effect she didn’t know about was up in the air. She was still a bit wobbly.

In her 29 years of living, Dr.Anika Warren had not had such a whirlwind of a day. 24 hours ago ,she was barging into the senator’s room trying to stop an assassination. She didn’t know how she got caught up in a death trap but after that it was as if her brain had recorded every single moment with perfect accuracy.The whole thing was playing in a loop , the cannister being deployed, Rafael Aveiro, superman and ultimate idiot jumping in to protect her , Danny and Bobby Gunderson’s life leaving his eyes in front of her. She had watched a lot of people pass away in her career, and each one affected her . No matter how much she wanted to get used to it. But this was different, this was a man who was talking to her about how he wanted to afford a car for his daughter’s 16th. Bobby used to greet her with a smile every day, and even with minimal interaction she had gotten close to him.

And now his daughter won’t have a father, much less a car. And it’s because you were dumb enough to jump in to the room before having backup.

She pushed the thoughts away as she wearily walked through Edenbrook’s long corridors. 

Most of her friends had returned home in hopes of having some rest, but she couldn’t. Raf was still admitted, albeit not in a coma and she couldn’t just leave him. She didn’t want to leave anyway,trying to get as much done as she could to distract herself. She didn’t want to face her thoughts, which she would eventually have to when she’d go home. But for now, she was delaying the inevitable by trying to help any and every doctor she came across. 

“Dr.Warren? Why are you still here?”

Esme. I love her but dear god if one more person tells me to go home I’ll start crying in the middle of the corridor.

“Uhh, I’m just finishing off some work. You should be too , Dr.Ortega. Stop interrogating people and get to work.”

Wow when did I become Ethan? That was one of the most out of character things I’ve ever said. Looks like his personality is seeping into me. 

“ Um..Anika? You good? No offense but that really doesn’t sound like you. ”

Well..crap. 

“Then what does it sound like, Dr.Ortega?”

“ It sounds like you’re trying to put on a tough person persona to deflect questions”

This girl is way too smart. Am I the only dumb one here with no people skills or…?

 “ I just..I just don’t want to go home. And I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t mind”

Please leave me alone please please please 

Esme shrugged but the look of concern on her face wasn’t gone. “If that’s what you want then sure. Take care of yourself, I’m not the one who almost died" 

 With that she turned around and left. 

Anika continued to make her way through the hospital. Her mind was racing with the possibilities of what could have happened. She could not stop thinking about how she trusted the senator, but most of all, one thing was repeating in her mind. 

So, Ethan Ramsey, are you single?

Ethan looked at me for a brief second

"I’m sorry… But no, I’m not" 

He had actually admitted his feelings on national television. Well, almost but the point still stood.

And yet it’s complicated. He’s not single but we’re not dating. What the fuck Ethan Ramsey? We doing Schrodinger dating or what? 

This was her hell.

"Dr. Warren?" 

This time, she wasn’t annoyed at her name being called. This time, it was more relief than frustration. 

"Anika..?” Ethan’s voice hit her once again. 

“Um.. Hi” she didn’t know what to say. Her face was flushed from thinking about the moment they shared after the interview, and all the subtle moments that had in the past few months. 

“You’re supposed to be home. But Dr.Ortega did mention something about you not wanting to. What is it?" 

Ah there it is. Damn you Esme. I mean, no but yes.

"It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it”

She tried to sound as normal and unbothered as she could. She didn’t want to even think about it, much less talk it out which would just make it much more real for her. She wanted to live in denial and pretend everything was normal for a while. 

 Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden hold on her wrist. She snapped back into reality to notice that Ethan was pulling her somewhere. It was in the general direction of his office so she presumed that much but couldn’t help protesting the sudden force.

“Wai- Wha- Where are you taking me?!”

The reply only affirmed her presumption.

“To my office, Rookie. You’re clearly not well and you need to rest and if you won’t go home I’ll make sure you rest here.”

Why is this man so stubborn? I love him but why?

They were soon in his sparsely decorated office. Everything was organised with no stray papers or journals lying around which was usually the case with most of the other offices in the hospital.  Ethan sat her down on the couch and sat down beside her.

“Wait, I thought you wanted me to rest. What is this Dr.Ramsey? A plot to get me alone with you hmmm..?” She wanted to get alone with him. Ever since the confession the other night and him saying he wasn’t single, she needed some answers. 

“No. I just wanted to ask you about why exactly you didn’t want to go home. Dr.Ortega told me you looked disturbed and kind of in a trance and I got worried” Ethan said with worry clearly etched onto his face 

Why the hell is he so cute even when he’s worried? I’m so so in love ugh

His palm touched her face , snapping her out of her thoughts yet again. His gentle touch was something she wasn’t yet that used to, and he had been much more gentle and kind since the confession the previous night. He was acting so unlike the Ethan she knew and she had to get used to this. 

“Tell me , Anika. What’s wrong? Talk to me. I’m here.”

Memories of the previous few days flooded her all at once. Her poaching the senator from MK, him intruding on the diagnostics team meetings, Travis behaving so normally that she could never in a million years imagine him being such a …. psychopath. 

The phone call she overheard, her disappointment on how she trusted a politician who wanted the same things as everyone else.

She was spiralling, and she was spiralling hard. It was hard not to, she was feeling guilty. She wanted to go back and not agree to June’s idea. She wanted to undo the whole thing.

Ethan noticed her face contorting with the painful memories and he immediately took her into his arms and that was all it took for her to start sobbing. 

“ I just..I feel guilty Ethan. I shouldn’t have gone to MK, I shouldn’t have followed June’s advice. I shouldn’t have trusted a politician. And most of all I shouldn’t have ran into the room like some kind of a superhero in a Hollywood movie without having proper back up”

Ethan’s face was grim. He understood the guilt over going over to MK and stealing their patient, he had been feeling it too. But he couldn’t understand the other feelings, it would be impossible to. He wanted to comfort her, let her know that she did absolutely nothing wrong but he knew his words wouldn’t matter much. 

Ethan’s thoughts were interrupted by more violent sobs, she was breaking in front of him and he couldn’t take it. He hugged her tighter and whispered sweet nothings, trying to tell her that she was only trying to do something good. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong Anika, you were doing your duty. You wanted to help. It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re here. ”

He wanted to comfort her and never hear her cry again.

Anika on the other hand couldn’t stop. She felt bad, she felt bad when she thought about Danny and Sienna , when she thought about Bobby Gunderson and his daughter. “ Sienna probably hates me.." 

Ethan was taken aback by that comment, if he had noticed one thing about Dr.Trinh ,it was that she was someone you could absolutely trust. Her hating Anika was far fetched. ” She won’t, why would she hate you? She was so scared Anika, she was so scared that you would ….“ He couldn’t complete the sentence. He couldn’t even complete the though. 

” No, Ethan. Sienna loved Danny. And..and if I hadn’t..if I hadn’t..done something so stupid..he would still be here..they had a future Ethan, they really did..“ and she broke down into another fit of sobs. 

Ethan didn’t know what to do. He held her and helped her cry it out. Eventually the exhaustion hit her and she somehow fell asleep. He noticed though,that she had a fever. And was in the process of waking her up gently and giving her some medicine that the door opened. 

Naveen Banerji was worried. He was worried about Rafael , the paramedic he had somehow grown close to. He was worried about Ethan , his mentee and his "son”. But most of all, he was worried about Dr.Warren. She had taken the toll of the previous days hard and as soon as he heard that she was acting unusual, he wanted to find her. He couldn’t though and decided that the best way to approach this was to ask Ethan.  

He had just opened the door when he saw that Anika was with Ethan in the room, and they both looked very cosy. Ethan was in the process of giving her some kind of medication and he didn’t want to interrupt but it was clear that they had been having a moment.  And Anika looked deathly pale and after listening to a concerned Dr.Ortega about how she was a walking zombie and how he should force her to take time off work and seeing it himself, he decided to actually listen to Dr.Ortega and give Anika a week off. 

He silently closed the door as he did not want to interrupt and instead paged Ethan to come to his office. He not only wanted Anika to take a few days off work, he wanted Ethan to take care of her. He had never seen Ethan so happy with anybody before and it hurt him to see them push each other away. And if this was a chance for him to push Ethan towards his happiness, he would use it. 

Ethan had just finished giving Anika a tablet for her temperature and let her fall asleep again when his pager beeped. He walked briskly to Naveen’s office, curious to know why he called him. It was rare, getting paged by Naveen so he was a bit nervous. 

When he had entered and sat down, Naveen wasted no time in getting to the point. “ I’ve heard that Dr.Warren has been showing some trauma symptoms lately, and she has gone through a lot so I want to give her a week off” he said.

Ethan was happy, he wanted this to happen but he was confused as to why the chief had told him this .

“ Before you ask me why and how this concerns you, I want you to know that I want you to take care of her in this one week. And hence , I am giving you a whole week off too” Naveen finished with a smile on his face.

Ethan was surprised. He wanted to spend time with her, especially after his late night revelations. But taking a whole week off work was out of question. The diagnostics team would be two members down and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Naveen, that simply isn’t feasible. It’s already hard with a nurse down and a doctor down and me going would make it all the more difficult for the team.”

Naveen cut him off, he didn’t want to hear it

“ Son, just listen to me this time. I’ll take over the diagnostics team myself for the week and the workload can be handled. I want you both to take a while off and figure things out and that’s all I’ll say. Nothing you say will change this decision.”

Ethan didn’t have the heart to protest. Even though he was worried about how the team would function without two members, the fact that Naveen would take over eased him. 

Besides that, he really did want to forget the world for a bit and just hold her in his arms. The endeavour the previous day had shown him how much he cared and after that , he couldn’t keep her away. He almost lost her, and in those few hours where he had to put up a brave façade for the hospital while he was breaking inside were the worst few hours in his entire life. 

He didn’t know what he would do without her, just the thought of not having her jab at him randomly, do weird things just to annoy him and all of her little quirks which frustrated him to no end in the beginning which he had grown to love killed him. He needed her. 

He walked through the hospital to his office to find her awake and scrolling through her phone. This comforted him a bit as she looked tranquil and didn’t have the worry on her face like earlier. 

He entered the room and her face immediately lit up. This was something he would never tire of seeing , her smile. It made him feel all excited and warm. 

“ Ethan! I was waiting for you!” She chirped. He loved her voice and it automatically brought an easy smile onto his face.

He sat down beside her , absentmindedly stroking her hand and started speaking.

“ Naveen has ordered both of us to take a whole week off. He wouldn’t listen to anything. "  He said with a bemused smirk on his face. This whole idea of Naveen, was amusing to him. It was such an obvious attempt at getting them together that he couldn’t help but laugh at it.

” Wait what? What about the diagnostics team?! They can’t function with two members down. I mean they can but what if we get an important case?! What about my patients? What about your patients? This simply won’t-“

Ethan cut her off with a kiss. He wanted to do that for so long and looking at her get so worked up about the hospital was too cute for him to control himself. 

” Oh my ,Dr.Ramsey, so forward of you. I didn’t think someone like you could do something so scandalous" Anika chuckled between kisses and Ethan was too absorbed to even take offense to the statement.

Eventually, they got up and made their way to Ethan’s apartment. Anika had to inform her flatmates , everyone looking at her with raised eyebrows except Sienna , who she couldn’t look in the eyes. She also made sure to check up on Raf and Kyra, and shed a few tears looking at them. She was glad that both of them were alright because she wouldn’t forgive herself if anything happened to anyone. 

Ethan’s apartment was as she remembered, clean and monochromatic. At this point, she had visited enough for her to just walk straight in and start playing with Jenner without any hesitation. Ethan loved seeing her like this, in his home , comfortable. He couldn’t help but imagine a future where she would just live there instead of visiting. 

After taking a shower ,they started working on dinner. Ethan didn’t want to make her work at all but she was adamant about helping. Watching her move across the kitchen with ease made him happy. But he didn’t forget to make her rest, as she was still weak which was evident when she lost focus suddenly and fainted.  Ethan dropped his spatula into the pan and rushed to get her up. She had started to have a rise in her temperature again. 

“ You can’t keep doing this Rookie , you’re sick and you’re literally working yourself to exhaustion. Now just take your medicine and relax , okay? I’ll take care of dinner.” He cooed into her ears as he lifted her up and carried her to his bed. 

Anika obliged with a pout, not letting him go back without a proper kiss. She wanted him to stay but her stomach rumbling made it obvious that she needed food. And the only source of food was Ethan cooking and she had to let him go.

Her fever had subsided by the time he poked his head into the bedroom telling her that dinner was ready. She had almost fallen asleep, exhaustion taking over her but dinner was important.

I need to talk to him about the interview. And the night before. I need to talk to him about so much. 

They had dinner in relative peace, having proper substantial food after all the hospital food she had eaten felt good. They were I’m easy conversation and she didn’t have the heart to bring up the topic of feelings.

He will shut down , and I don’t want him to shut down. 

Only when they had completed eating and ended up in bed cuddling could she force herself to ask him. 

Just do it Anika. It’s not too hard. He won’t push you away. Trust yourself. 

“ Ethan?” She spoke up with a timid voice. In the hospital, she was the person who would talk back when anything was wrong or if anybody did anything questionable, but here she was out of her depth.

“ Yes?” He answered with an inquisitive tone.

“I wanted to ask you about something” she went on. “ Uh..um.. the interview when you said you weren’t single..” she took a deep breath. 

Come on , just say it. Why are you so anxious?! 

Ethan immediately tensed up a bit. He meant every single word he said, both in the interview and in the night that followed and yet, he didn’t know how to approach this.  He was looking at her intently , waiting for her to continue when she started speaking again.

“ Yesterday night, when you talked about how you regretted keeping me away and how you wished you didn’t do it… did you mean it?” She finished, bracing for impact. She was so sure that he’d push her away yet again and they’d have to spend the rest of the week in awkwardness that his next words took her a moment to register. 

“ I meant every single word , Anika” he said, bringing her closer to him. He kissed her forehead and continued. “ I meant it. All of it. You are the light in my life, my sunshine. When I saw you behind the glass, covered in that grease , my heart stopped. I had to pick myself up and put on a face for the team but I was breaking into a million pieces. Each time I failed to diagnose what was wrong , I remembered that I could lose you. And that broke me even further. There was nothing I wanted to do more than run into the room and hold you in my hands. I can’t live without you Anika, I don’t want to imagine a life without you. ”

By this point , both of them were in tears. They were hugging each other, tears flowing freely. 

“ I was so scared ,Ethan. I just wanted to be in your arms. And I was scared for Raf. When you told me we had lost Danny, I realised I couldn’t lose Raf. And every moment, all I wanted was to be with you. You’re the most important thing in my life , Ethan. And I was so scared to talk to you about this, so scared that you would push me away again.”

Ethan took a sharp breath. Pushing her away after all this was impossible. He hugged her tighter , letting her cry , letting himself cry it out. 

“ I won’t push you away. I won’t ever push you away. I’m all in if you are” he said, through tears. 

Anika looked at him and could see a vulnerable man. She could see he was scared too, to admit his feelings and to let his walls down and she was determined to never hurt him.

“ I’m all in ,Ethan. Forever. ”

That night was one of the best nights of their lives. They just spent it cuddling and talking to each other about their dreams, their aspirations and themselves. 

Ethan hadn’t felt so at ease in years. He was ready to take care of her forever. He had never imagined falling in love but now, he couldn’t imagine not being in love. 

And that night , they knew that the next seven days and the rest of their lives would be amazing. 

And this, was her heaven.

THANK YOU IF YOU READ TILL HERE.

Tag List? Sort of?

@drethanramslay @hatescapsicum @nooruleman @anonymously-cool @mrsbhandari @kaavyaethanramsey @apphia12 @queencarb @mvalentine @openheart12 @starrystarrytrouble

@crazynutella tagging @oofchoices @ohramsey if yall are interested

xxxx

[beejiesbitch]

Soft Keatlejuice because my brain demands it!!!!!

The crunch of dry, gravelly earth under your feet was all you heard as you approached the old stone crypt you’d usually only visit upon request from Beetlejuice.

He wasn’t expecting you to come this night, you were told to return the day after. You weren’t even sure if he’d be here, but there was a deep ache in your chest to see him. Normally you’d come, he’d get off somewhere on or in you and if you were lucky and cooperative, you would too. It gave you release, and allowed you to focus on just existing and pleasing someone else.

Beetlejuice wasn’t one for cuddling afterward, you knew that. He’d never made any attempt to woo you, it was all sex and dirty talk. You loved the simplicity of it, the raw carnal interactions that had clear expectations. Emotions were messy and the relative absence of them for the months you’d been visiting him was refreshing.

Refreshing, that is, until it wasn’t quite enough.

You had tried to talk yourself out of the subtle, growing sense of attachment that had begun to settle in your bones. You looked forward to seeing him for more than just the feeling of him in your throat or your pussy or ass. You enjoyed his cheesy humor, the self-assured way he spoke. Even though he was crass and a bit cold, you enjoyed his sense of independence and the fact that he was stable- his existence was complete before you arrived in it, and he’d seen fit to make time for you.

With that in mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what his time was like in your absence. You wondered what circumstances had grown his personality into its current state, what he truly felt beneath all the bluster and bravado.

You didn’t assume that you’d get answers to these questions, but you couldn’t just pretend your feelings weren’t changing. You’d grown attached, and it only felt right that you at least attempt to show him some appreciation for his role in your life, no matter how strange.

The air of the crypt was still when you entered, the only sound to meet your ears was the crunch of your shoe soles over dirty concrete. There was no sign of the ghost with the most. You set the backpack you’d brought along on the ground. Normally you’d be wary about making so much noise here, but you knew it was extremely rare for anyone to actually be in this cemetery, and it’d been just as empty as the crypt when you arrived. 

You placed an inflatable mattress on the ground, grunting softly at the heft of the motor built into it that would inflate it as you continued with your preparations. You scattered three jar candles with three wicks each in the two corners along the wall you’d placed the mattress near and one was placed atop the marble sarcophagus in the middle of the space. 

The twin mattress didn’t take long to fill, and you turned off the air pump when it sounded fully inflated. You strained your ears for any approach, but to your relief it appeared that you’d gone unnoticed. You gathered the remainder of the items from your pack, a small bluetooth speaker, a few joints, and two large cans of beer.

You looked over your handiwork as you connected your phone to the speaker and then considered how you’d get his attention. You knew he didn’t want you to say his name... but nothing else came to mind.

“BJ?” you called, looking around at the dimly lit and cobweb covered interior. Nothing.

“Beej?” Again you tried, and then worried at your lip with your teeth. You’d give it just one try, and then if he didn’t come you’d abort the mission and give up. You’d see him tomorrow- plug in even though you’d been asked to come and kneel at the usual spot. You did want to spend more time with him after all, and you’d never deviated from his requests in any way before...

“Beetlej--” A hand clapped over your mouth from behind and a rush of air gave you all the indication you needed that he’d appeared behind you.

“Now, now baby girl what’s all this about? I don’t think I penciled you in for today.” he rasped, lips just behind your ear. You could feel his chill breath on your skin as he spoke, but he kept his hand firmly pressed to your face. “You’re not ah... gonna finish what you were sayin’, are ya?” The threat was thinly veiled, but you truly hadn’t intended to, and you shook your head to tell him as much.

He removed his hand and allowed you to turn to look at him. His eyes were scanning your face with a level of suspicion that made you regret your decision to do this. Before you could open your mouth to speak, he nodded his head to the side, indicating the mattress and candles. “What’s this about babes, you havin’ a date?” he asked, his voice both mocking and teasing.

You smiled, and that seemed to give him genuine pause.

“Yes actually, I was hoping... with you?” you asked meekly. Your voice was smaller than normal, and your normally confident sexy posture was curled inward and tight. You were genuinely afraid of rejection and were sure he’d turn you down, given the expression on his face before you’d answered him.

To your vast surprise, he didn’t immediately brush it off, and he didn’t disappear. He stood there, looking at you in quiet shock as his mind grappled with what he was hearing. After the initial incredulity had worn off, he blinked a few times and gave his most self-assured grin. “Of course you’d want a date with ol’ BJ! Ghost of your dreams, most eligible bachelor of the afterlife- sure doll I can spend some time here with ya. Whaddaya want, you lookin’ for a facial? A creampie? Lemme just tell ya babes, those tits? The stuff dreams are made of.”

You grinned at his acceptance and gave half a shrug. You weren’t about to turn down his offers, but you wanted to make sure your preparations were used. “How about we sit down for a bit, BJ... c’mon, take your shoes off, let me open a beer for you, we can smoke a little weed, listen to Sinatra...”

“Sinatra?” he asked suspiciously. “I mean, ‘t’s not really fuckin’ music, babes... but alright, whatever you’re into.” He sat on the mattress and though you were sure you saw some pleasure on his face at the soft seating, when he offered you his feet to remove his shoes for him the look was gone. You didn’t complain despite the odor- his shoes didn’t tend to come off, in fact he generally remained mostly clothed with you. 

You set his shoes aside and lowered yourself beside him. You did three things in succession, opening and handing him a beer, covering both of your legs with a blanket, and pulling out a joint. 

His eyes widened a little, and he couldn’t withhold the smirk that perked the corner of his mouth. “What...? You got quite the spread here baby, what’s the catch?”

“No catch, BJ. I just wanted to do something nice for you. As much as I enjoy being your little fuck-doll, I wanted to help you relax... so I got you some beer, I’ll try to get you stoned, we can listen to some relaxing music, and if you really want, I’m more that happy to play with your cock... but tonight is for you, like... all of you, not just your junk.”

Beetlejuice looked taken aback by that, and he sipped at the beer you handed him quietly, not responding at first. His expression was blank, and you wondered how much of what you’d said sank in. Not wanting to push your luck, you quickly put the joint to your lips and lit it. When it was burning you pressed it to his lips. He took a hit but did not take it from your fingers. 

With silence still reigning in the room, you pressed play on your phone and ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ began to play at a low volume. In the absence of talking, it was loud enough for you to enjoy the music itself and you let yourself lean against his side. He didn’t pull away, and after the song had ended, he wrapped one arm around you, tugging you close.

“Thanks, babes.” he said, in a voice so quiet you weren’t altogether sure you’d heard it at all. He was unnaturally quiet as he sipped down both beers, allowing you to press into his side and smoke two joints back-to-back. Your downloaded music was reaching the end of the playlist, and you knew there wasn’t going to be a signal in this cemetery to continue the music. 

When you turned in your seat, holding the last joint between your fingers, you turned to look at him and for once he actually seemed somber.

“You feeling alright, BJ?” you asked softly, not wanting to intrude on his reflections but also not wanting to lose the opportunity to show interest in genuine emotions outside his lust.

He glanced over to you and then to the joint you held. He held out his hand in silent request, and you placed it in his grip. He took the lighter from beside you and busied himself with lighting it and taking a few precursory puffs to start the burn. “I’m feelin’ quite alright babes.” he finally answered.

Cool fingers gripped your hair, a familiar feeling to you by this point. He took one long drag from the joint, then turned to you and tugged you up against his mouth. He exhaled into your mouth, and you took in his exhale without complaint. The smoke tasted like him and it may not have been a pleasant taste, really, but it was his taste. He was sharing the smoke with you in a way you weren’t sure how to interpret, but the press of his mouth against yours was more tender than anything he’d ever done with you before.

Pushing your luck, you pressed your tongue into his mouth to lap at his own. He didn’t pull back, but you noticed his eyes open ever so slightly wider, and then close. He sucked at your tongue and explored your mouth. He cut the kiss short with a sharp pull back and a low whine of disappointment slipped out of you before you could stop it.

His gaze was fixed on you observing you as he held you still by your hair. He leaned in again after his next hit, sharing it and yet again you kissed him when you’d gotten a full inhale. He returned your kisses in an uncharacteristically soft manner- he wasn’t spitting in your mouth or biting at your lips hard enough to hurt. He was simply kissing you back, and that made your heart flutter in your chest.

You continued with this for the rest of the joint, though the way he was inhaling off of it, it burned through in minutes. You cursed mentally, wishing that you’d packed a blunt instead- at least that would have lasted longer.

To your surprise, however, he cast aside the end of the joint on the stone floor and turned his head to kiss you again. His teeth did capture your lip and give it a tug, but still it was more gentle than you were used to with him.

Feeling emboldened by his return to kissing you even after the joint had been burned through and discarded, you brought your own hand up to the back of his head. Fingers pushed through his wild locks, you weren’t sure if you felt a bug crawl beside your digit. You had to fight down the urge to offer to bring him back to your home for a shower - if you continued on this path and tried again at another time, perhaps he’d accept the invitation. He’d seemed suspicious during even this simple time together, though, and you wanted to take the time to earn his trust, prove to him that your intentions were earnest. His hand slipped down to your waist and you felt cold fingers gripping you, holding you firmly in place. He didn’t slip his fingers under your waistband, however, and that was a surprise. Pleasant, but still unexpected. You’d anticipated he’d rip the clothes off of you and shove himself into whatever hole became most readily available, but here he was holding you, kissing you and… you swore you heard him groaning low in his chest. When your lungs began to burn, you pulled back and grinned at him without relinquishing your hold on the back of his head. It felt grimy, it felt cold and was rather unpleasant but it was him, and he was letting you touch his head. His hands in your hair were as far as any such touching had gone, and the knowledge that he felt your hand and allowed it to stay, was possibly even enjoying it was enough to make your heart pound in your chest. “That’s a hell of a smile you got on ya babes, wanna let BJ in on the joke?” he queried, and you could see the mistrust behind his eyes blossoming. “No joke BJ, I like kissing you.” you answered quickly, unable to think of anything other than the earnest truth. He seemed puzzled by that, as though he believed that kissing him was only ever an unpleasant experience. Seeing the expression on his face turn from contemplation and confusion to frustration, you pressed forward against his lips. You felt him grow still against your mouth and you closed your eyes, focusing on the feel and taste of him. He felt hesitant against your mouth, his tongue didn’t move when yours swirled around it. You pressed tighter against his mouth and held yourself there, desperately exploring him with your tongue. It was easy to lose yourself in the tingling that flooded your gut at having his mouth against yours. There was no malice in his teeth, no sharp bite, no vicious suction that would steal your breath and leave you sore. You pulled yourself back again, frustrated at the need for air that made your lungs ache and forced your mouth away from his. Slowly, you opened your eyes to look into his and smiled, panting and still holding his head with tender care. His eyes were cold and his expression was difficult to read. He looked at your lips and your eyes, his gaze roamed your entire face and you felt so meticulously analyzed it made you uneasy. You weren’t sure what to say to him, but finally he broke the silence. “You actually want to kiss me?” he asked, with none of the usual hilarity or nastiness, no bluster or false confidence. He just seemed like a man who had absolutely no reason whatsoever to believe what he was hearing, as though you’d announced that the sky had turned pink and cotton candy was raining from the sky. Still, what he said was true - as unpleasant as his taste was, as much as you wanted to take him home and scrub him clean and sanitize him, you did enjoy kissing him. You nodded. “Babes, how the fuck can you enjoy kissing a mouth like this? You’re gonna tell me that everyone who looks at me cringes in outright disgust, but you actually want to kiss me? I know we fuck around a lot, I don’t know, maybe you’re a masochist or some shit. But no one enjoys kissing me, baby. I don’t know how you could think I was stupid enough to believe that.” His voice was cold, but not angry as his words would have made you believe. He didn’t appear angry at you, or like he thought you were trying to scam him- for once, the only thing you saw on his face was hurt. Sadness. A thick, cold knot settled in your gut and you finally pulled your hand from his hair and straightened up on the air mattress. You straightened up and cupped the sides of his face with both hands, fingers brushing over the soft mold that had blossomed in patches on his skin. Up close, you understood what he must have meant - there were many reasons you should find him disgusting, repulsive, he should make your stomach knot with disgust but he didn’t. He never had, even when you’d begun occupying your time with him, letting him explore your body. Yes, he was great at a rough fuck, but you didn’t know that he was so out of touch with the concept of being genuinely attractive that he didn’t believe it was possible. “Hey, BJ… I came here tonight when you didn’t expect me, didn’t I? Set up this mattress, got some soft lighting, played some soothing music with you, gave you booze and weed… you didn’t ask me for any of that, BJ. You didn’t order me to do any of this, right?” He nodded briefly, though he seemed not to really understand where you were going with this. It was as though he didn’t understand why you’d done any of this at all, and the conversation was not making it any clearer. “BJ I did this because I like you.” You put a finger to his lips as he seemed likely to tell you to get to the punchline of the joke, because of course you had to be joking. “It’s been a few months now, and I haven’t been seeing anyone else. I don’t really want to, I get all I need from you, but… I want to see more of you. I came here because I wanted to spend time with you and get to know you, and appreciate you.” He looked downward toward your hand and you finally removed your finger from his lips. “Babes, I’m real flattered ‘n all, but you realize you’re talkin’ to a dead guy, right? How long do you think I’ve been solo? Take a guess. It’s longer than you’re thinkin -  you don’t have the scope to understand how long I’ve been alone. If you’re sittin’ here telling me that you’re wanting to just spend some time together because I make you feel good or whatever you’re on about, I’m gonna listen, and sure I might go along with it, but you gotta know I can’t believe that.” That hurt. It stung deep in your ribcage and knocked the wind out of you. You closed your eyes and bit at your lips, holding them together and tucking down your head as you composed yourself. He had a point, you really didn’t know what he’d been through- you had no idea how long he’d been by himself or what his existence for whatever time he’d existed was like. “I don’t… I don’t know any of that, you’re right. But I’m willing to try to understand. You’re a dead guy, right? You were at one point a living person? Then if you start from the beginning and tell me what you’ve been through, I can try to understand more… but I’ll never understand if you can’t bring yourself to open up.” you answered firmly, looking back to him with a certain level of defiant confidence. You were upset, not that he was having a hard time opening up or that he felt undesirable, but that he seemed so sure of what you were and were not able to handle. “I already like you, BJ. All you have to do is take a chance and let me. Let me appreciate you, let me thank you and spend time with you - what have you got to lose? I’m already here. I already want you. No strings attached, no catch.” His expression was blank as you spoke, but toward the end you felt his hand at your waist tremble. He gave no other indication that he’d even heard you until he surged forward and took your mouth with his own. His eyes closed the moment his lips touched yours and his cold tongue writhed against your own and skimmed the backs of your teeth and you felt the almost hungry suction of his mouth on yours. He felt so hungry for you it made your chest ache. You returned the kiss as best you could when he took you so ravenously with his lips. He pulled back just enough to let you catch a few breaths.You started to lean him downward, attempting to get him to lay against the mattress. When he realized what you were doing you found yourself pinned in a matter of moments. You winced, hoping you hadn’t set him off, but there was something needy in his eyes as he took your mouth with his again. He kissed you until your lips were swollen and all you could taste was his tongue in your mouth. The weed had made you hazy and by the time he’d pulled back without immediately plunging back into you after you’d caught a few ragged breaths, you were sober again. Your phone rang and it made you jump, though he seemed unaffected by the sudden noise. In fact he seemed rather well recovered and was lighting a cigarette from his jacket pocket as you checked your screen. You cursed under your breath and looked around you - there was no way you thought you’d be here for hours, you’d assumed this would blow up in your face or he’d be chomping at the bit to go fuck off as usual… but the fact that he’d stayed, the fact that you’d been with him for the better part of three hours made you smile. Unfortunately, you had to work in the morning, and that meant you had to get to bed as soon as you could, and you already had to make your way home. “Gotta go?” he asked as though the answer didn’t matter. He didn’t look at you as he asked, though, instead casting his gaze to the stone wall behind you. “Yeah… I do, I have to work tomorrow…” you answered, looking a little guilty at cutting the interaction here when he’d seemed to be finally enjoying himself. “Got time for a quickie, babes?” he asked with a wolfish grin. He pulled his hard cock from his trousers with such ease it made you smile. “I really don’t tonight, BJ… But how about this? You wanted me to come here and kneel for you tomorrow night, yeah?” He nodded his head with a partial shrug. “Yeah?” “Well, how about I come here tomorrow, we can leave all this stuff right where it is, and I’ll even put in the silver plug you like. I’ll bring you more beer and we can take our time instead of just rushing through to you nutting in my throat. That sound good to you?” you offered, looking over him with a little smirk that you knew he liked from the way his cock throbbed when he saw it. Beetlejuice glanced around at your candles and then down at the mattress and blanket, and after a few drags on his cigarette he nodded. “Alright. Tomorrow… don’t forget to lube up though, babes. Might plow a hole right through ya for makin’ me wait.” He answered, teasing with a little smirk on his face that seemed closer to what you’d grown to expect from him. You gathered up your phone, but left the rest of your items where they were. He made no move to get up, and that suited you fine - maybe he’d be comfortable there, even with the candles blown out. If he liked it, you’d made a mental note to suggest maybe he come home with you and feel your actual bed. You saw that he’d tucked his cock back away and that made you smile, especially since you noted that he was still clearly hard. The fact that he hadn’t just pinned you against the wall or the sarcophagus was a little surprising, but you were glad he hadn’t. As good as it would have felt to have his cock slamming against the deepest part of your cunt, you felt respected by him for this moment in time. The idea that he’d listened to your suggestion and accepted your offer to make the next night a longer, more involved experience made your heart flutter. As you prepared to leave, you leaned down and kissed his lips gently, in the way he seemed generally unfamiliar with. You also pressed your lips to his forehead, which he didn’t seem to know how to react to. You said you’d see him tomorrow, and that you couldn’t wait. He held his tongue, but raised his cigarette in acknowledgement while still sitting on the blow-up mattress in the crypt. As you left, you smiled to yourself with every step, feeling both triumphant and giddy. You also made the determined decision not to touch yourself tonight even though your body ached for it -  you knew it’d be even better tomorrow if you waited.

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

these fools need to learn communication

for @figurative-siren-song‘s Thing!! credits to the fabulous @main-chive and @an-absolute-failure for betaing ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Summary: I think the title says it all tbh Warnings: alcohol mention, insecurity, catastrophizing, Virgil panics some + doesn’t have good self care habits, one (1) curse word, Remus is mentioned Wordcount: just a little under 6k

Additional note!! The section that begins with “Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed...” is a repeat of the previous scene, but from another POV

Virgil is so tired. It feels like every day there’s some new crisis to deal with or important thing to discuss, and he just wants a couple days to himself to unwind a bit.

But since he can’t get that, he wants a few hours to gripe with someone over everything that’s been going down lately.

Roman is way too dramatic for his tastes, and Patton would probably be too nice about what’s happening. So he goes to Logan. (He briefly toys with the idea of going to one of the Others, but things are… tense with them, so he discards it quickly.)

“Yes?” Logan asks, opening the door to their room.

“I was wondering if you, uh, wanted to complain with me about all the stuff that’s been happening lately? There’s been a lot, and you’ve probably had to deal with more of it than me, and I thought you might like to commiserate? It’s chill if you don’t want to, though,” Virgil says, shifting awkwardly.

“You are welcome to join us.” Logan opens the door wider and steps to the side.

“Us?” Virgil echoes, confused, until he goes inside and sees Janus sitting in a beanbag chair, swirling a wine glass idly. “Oh.”

“Lovely to see you too, Virgil,” fae says dryly.

Virgil scrunches up his nose and wonders if getting to complain about all the recent shenanigans is worth spending time in faer company. Janus mimics the expression—is fae mocking him?—and holds up a bottle of wine, shaking it a little to show that it’s still mostly full. Virgil sighs, shrugs, and conjures a plain beanbag and wine glass, collapsing into the former and holding out the latter to Janus. Fae obligingly fills it, and Virgil leans back in his beanbag, sipping it as Logan sits down.

“So what’re we talking about?” Virgil asks.

“Y’know the other day when…”

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

Virgil squints at Remy.

“Not to be rude,” Logan begins, but Virgil cuts them off.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“Real welcoming, Virgil,” Janus remarks snidely.

“He’s intruding on our thing!”

“Yes, and it’s not like you intruded on our thing only a month ago and we were hospitable, right? You totally have the right to snap at Remy.”

“Shut up.”

“Y’all are gossiping, babes,” Remy says. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Virgil opens his mouth to protest automatically, then finds that that’s a fair point. Remy does love gossip. He shuts his mouth reluctantly.

“Welcome to the group, Remy,” Janus declares, overexaggerating faer words and smirking at Virgil. He makes a mocking face back but doesn’t comment, crossing his arms as Janus conjures up a beanbag chair for Remy. The little pest. Now everyone but Virgil has a beanbag chair rather than a plain beanbag; this was absolutely deliberate.

Virgil scowls at Janus and sinks further down into his beanbag, letting the conversation flow around him without paying attention to what’s being said. Whatever; at least his seat isn’t a specific shape and therefore can be squished into a different position or turned upside down and still be the same. See any of them try to do that with their chair-shaped beanbags, only good for one shape and if you wanted to shift positions you had to make do with what you had, instead of adjusting the beanbag.

“Virgil?” Logan asks.

“Wh—yeah?”

“Are you alright?”

Virgil pushes himself more upright and sits on his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure, babes?” Remy tilts his head down to look over his sunglasses at him.

“Yeah.” Virgil forces a smile. “Just… need to readjust my beanbag.” He stands up and flips it over, squishing it in a few spaces until it’s like he wants. The other three watch him in silence, making the affair at least twice as awkward as it would’ve been if they’d ignored him. Virgil sits back down, face red. “What’re we talking about?”

“These two were telling me about something that happened with Roman yesterday?” Remy says.

“Oh my gosh,” Virgil groans. “Okay, what do you already know?”

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

This is a crisis, Virgil is having a crisis, a dilemma, a predicament, an emergency; sound the alarms, clang the warning bell, and gather the troops, Virgil has a crush.

This shouldn’t be happening! Not allowed! He’s too emotionally unstable to handle it and will mostly likely make a fool out of himself. Which is also absolutely not allowed.

And! The crush is on Janus, which is yet another not allowed thing. Last Virgil checked, he was still just tolerating faer presence, not getting a crush on faer. That’s just plain rude of his brain, please take it back he doesn’t want it.

He looks up at his ceiling, since that’s as far back as Virgil can roll his eyes without being in pain. Okay, he’s staring his brain down, and he’ll stop having a crush in three, two, one—

He pauses, thinks of Janus, groans. That didn’t work. And to be honest he didn’t really expect it to, but it still? would’ve been nice? if his brain could work with him for once??

Virgil sighs and flops backwards.

Okay, if demanding his brain stop having a crush didn’t work, maybe he can just… avoid faer. Maybe it’s just infatuation or something—doesn’t infatuation happen right after you meet someone? His brain asks. Shut up, he tells it—and if he stays away for a few days it’ll go away. That’s probably it.

He glances over at his minifridge and small hoard of non-perishables and mentally calculates. He’s got enough for about a week, that should be plenty enough time.

Virgil waves his hand and his door locks. There. Now he can just. sit around and avoid thinking about Janus until this crush/infatuation/whatever-it-is goes away.

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

This is great, Remy is having a great time, get some bells to ring and a rooftop for him to shout off, because Remy has a crush.

To be accurate, he has three: on Janus, Virgil, and Logan. He isn’t exactly sure when they started, only that he just now realized he has them, but he’s definitely not complaining.

He’s also definitely not going to sit around and pine silently for them or something. If he’s going to get rejected, better to get it over with and work on healing than let himself think there might be a chance for however long. (And, yeah, it would definitely hurt, if one or all of them didn’t like him—hurt a lot—but he’s ignoring that part.) And the revelation is giving him an extra burst of confidence (and it’s not like he didn’t already have that in spades) so he’s going to shoot his shot as soon as possible.

His brain decides the most efficient way to confess to the three of them is to wander around the mindscape until he finds them, so he does that until he bumps into Logan.

“Logan,” Remy declares. “I’m gay.”

“Yes,” Logan says, pulling out their flashcards and flipping through a few of them before pulling one out and showing it to him. “‘We been knew’ that, Remy.”

“Nice,” Remy compliments, throwing an arm around their shoulders. “But you see, my dear nerd, I’m gay for you.” He pokes their chest for emphasis.

Logan turns bright red and alternates between wordlessly gaping and stammering so hard Remy can’t make out anything they’re trying to say. They extract themself from Remy’s arm and smooth out their tie, their blush toning down only slightly.

“I… will have to think on this,” Logan says finally, which Remy interprets as Logan for ‘too gay rn; need some time to calm down and consider my feelings’.

“Cool; take all the time you need,” Remy tells them, flashing them a peace sign. “I’m gonna go find Janus and Virgil, see you in a bit.” 

“Alright,” Logan says, and Remy takes that as his cue to wander off in search of his other two crushes.

The next one he runs into is Janus, who he immediately tells “I’m gay.”

“No,” fae snarks. “I thought you were straight.”

Remy gasps and scoffs offendedly (at the same time, because his need to be Dramatic™ at all times overrides any petty things like biology, especially when he’s been teased).

“Well, I was going to say I’m gay for you,” Remy tells faer, pressing a hand to his chest. “But if we’re on such a disconnect I’m just not sure anymore.”

“No, wait!” Janus says. “I’m gay for you too, darling, please.”

Remy immediately decides that any pet names for him are illegal; his face has no right blushing like that just because Janus called him ‘darling’. He covers his face, hoping that’ll hide the blush.

“Fine,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Janus smirks. “I couldn’t hear you through your hands, darling.” Fae gently takes his wrists and pulls his hands down. “There’s your gorgeous face.”

“Rude,” Remy huffs.

“But you’re gay for me anyway,” Janus purrs.

“I regret telling you that.”

“No you don’t.”

“No I don’t,” Remy sighs. “You wanna be boyfriends? Or partners or something, if you don’t want to use ‘boyfriends’?”

“I would love that,” Janus smiles.

“Great, me too.”

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

Logan knocks on Remy’s door.

“Come in!”

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, puts two and two together and gets four. Oh, they think, they’re dating.

Logan walks in, sees Remy and Janus cuddling together, and squares the twos instead of adding them. I took too long to answer, they assume. Remy must’ve gotten bored or didn’t want to wait and got with Janus instead.

“Oh,” they say. “My apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn to leave.

“Wait, babes,” Remy says. Logan turns to see him stretching out a hand towards them. “What’d you need?”

“I did not need something, per se,” Logan mumbles. “However, I was going to accept Remy’s implied proposition, though it seems I misinterpreted it.”

“Hon, speak up, I can barely hear you,” Remy tells them. “And use less nerd talk; what I could hear I couldn’t understand.”

Logan sighs. “I interpreted your informing me that you are gay for me as you indirectly asking me to be in a relationship with you, but it seems that was a misstep on my part. If you don’t mind, I’ll be taking my leave now before I embarrass myself further.”

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears that you are dating Janus?” Logan says. “Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I wanna date you too,” Remy tells them. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

Logan blushes. “That would be satisfactory.”

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus says.

“Actually,” Logan admits, blushing harder. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you,” Janus tells them.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“It certainly seems that way,” Logan answers, at the same time Janus says, “Yes.”

“Great.” Remy grins. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.” He pats the empty patch of bed beside him. Logan wrinkles their nose fondly and sits beside Remy, who pulls them down to sprawl across his stomach and onto Janus’s lap. Logan squawks, and tries to pull themself back up, but Remy pushes them back down, declaring, “No sitting up allowed.”

Logan snorts and looks over to Janus. Fae leans forward to kiss their forehead and then settles back against Remy’s side.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan huffs, though they can’t stop the smile spreading across their face as they say it.

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

Remy and Janus are cuddling on Remy’s bed when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” Remy calls. Logan walks in, looks at the two of them.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ll leave you two be.” They turn around. Remy stops them and needles them into admitting that Remy had asked them out—the exact same way he had asked Janus out, fae notes—but that was “a misstep on their part” somehow.

“Wait, why do you think I don’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Remy asks.

“It appears you are dating Janus? Did I misinterpret that as well?”

“No, we’re dating, but I want to date you too,” Remy explains. “If you don’t like Janus like that you don’t have to date faer, as long as you’re cool with sharing me.”

And Janus knows he’s just explaining the situation and Logan’s options, but wow, way to let faer have a say in whether or not fae wants to date Logan or share Remy with them. Fae’s fine with both, but that’s not the point.

“That would be satisfactory.” Logan blushes a pretty shade of pink and unkind thoughts who? Janus doesn’t know them.

“Janus?” Remy looks over to faer, silently asking for faer opinion, and that also helps.

“I’m fine sharing,” Janus confirms.

“Actually,” Logan says, blushing harder and it looks like Janus might just have a new favorite color, wow. “I feel I should confess that I harbor romantic feelings for you as well, Janus—and Virgil too, while I’m admitting these things—though if you do not wish to be in a romantic relationship with me then I am perfectly content to be metamours with you.”

“I’m certainly not opposed to dating you.” Janus grins.

“So we’re all dating each other, then?” Remy asks.

“Yes,” Janus says, while Logan answers with, “It certainly seems that way.”

“Great.” Remy grins. Between that smile and Logan’s blush, Janus just might die from gay. “Come join the ‘yay I’ve got two new boyfriends’ pile, Logan.”

Logan wrinkles their nose—how is faer boyfriend so cute—and sits down. Remy pulls them down on both his and faer laps, and he and Logan struggle briefly.

“No sitting up allowed,” Remy declares, and Logan snickers and looks over to Janus, looking a little like they’re trying to ask for help with their eyes. Janus, being the good boyfriend fae is, kisses their forehead.

“Traitors, the both of you,” Logan accuses, smiling.

“You love us, though,” Remy says.

Logan sighs. “I suppose I do.”

“And,” Remy continues. “You said you like Virgil?”

“Yes,” Logan confirms. “Is that a problem for either of you?”

“None here, babes,” Remy says.

“Here either,” Janus adds. Fae kind of fades out the conversation after that, watching Remy and Logan talk and trying not to let faer negative thoughts get the best of faer.

Because fae can’t help but notice how Logan had confessed to Remy before faer. And Remy had asked Logan out before asking faer out.

And Janus knows they both like faer! They’re all in a relationship! Currently cuddling together!

...Still stings, though. (Fae still feels a little like second place.)

“Janus?”

Fae looks up. “Yeah?”

“What do you think of asking Virgil to join our relationship the day after tomorrow when we do our Thing?” Logan asks.

“Sounds good,” Janus says, smile only a little forced. Fae put faer thoughts firmly aside and rejoins the conversation, enjoying the warmth and comfort of faer boyfriends beside and on top of faer.

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

Logan frowns, tapping their foot anxiously a few times.

“Should we give him another few minutes?” They ask. “It’s already been fifteen.”

“I don’t think he’s coming.” Remy says.

“He’s hidden himself away for a few days before, but he’s never missed our Thing,” Janus points out.

“Yeah.” Remy frowns. “Wonder what’s wrong.”

“Me too,” Logan says.

“You think we should go ask him?” Remy asks.

Logan hums, considering it. If Virgil hadn’t come out for their Thing, whatever was keeping him in his room was serious. “Maybe give him another day or two.”

“Alright.”

Janus grimaces, tapping faer foot rapidly. “Do… do you guys want to do it anyway, even though Virgil’s not here?”

“No,” Logan says immediately, shaking their head.

“Me neither,” Janus sighs, slowing their tapping. 

“Lo, I know you said to leave him alone, but do you think we could still give him a note or something?” Remy asks, frowning. “I’m worried.”

“I am as well,” Logan admits. “And I don’t see why not.”

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

Virgil sighs and pulls his headphones off, unplugging them from his phone. His legs are a little achy, which is probably a sign he’s been sitting for too long and needs to stretch or something.

He wanders over to the pub table he’s got in the corner, thinking that could be a good spot to set his phone while he dances to music (no one’s around to judge him, it’s fun, and it’s a good way to stretch his legs, okay?). 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something white on the ground by the door. Crouching down to examine it, it looks like a piece of paper someone folded in half and shoved under the door. Frowning in confusion, he unfolds it.

“Hey, Virgil!” it reads. “It’s been a few days since you emerged from your room and we’re a little worried. Hope you’re alright! Missed you at the Thing today.” It’s signed by Janus, Remy and Logan, though scribbled to the side is the addition, “Apologies for Remy’s poor grammar. I hope you are well. -Logan”

Virgil’s brain latches onto “Missed you at the Thing today.” They’d done it without him? It was their Thing and they’d just excluded him? Had they only noticed he hadn’t left his room because he wasn’t at the Thing? Were they upset he wasn’t there? Like ‘where in the world were you; we had to do the Thing without you’? You aren’t a necessary part of the group, his brain whispers to him, but you bailed on them and they’re mad about it.

Virgil clamps his hands over his ears and plops to the floor. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, he tells his mind. They don’t hate me; they gave me a letter to check in with me while respecting that I might not want to come out and not wanting to force me to.

Really? Or maybe they just couldn’t be bothered to do more than shove a note under the door.

Shut up.

Virgil focuses on doing his 4-7-8 breathing method and firmly ignores his mind telling him his friends now hate him. When his breathing is finally steady and his brain’s stopped hissing poison, he slowly relaxes his muscles and takes his hands off his ears.

Your friends are still your friends, he reminds himself. They’re concerned about your wellbeing, not mad at you, and they still like you.

Platonically, his mind adds sourly. Virgil frowns at the thought.

So far his plan to get rid of his crush on Janus had only revealed his crushes on Logan and Remy as well. Turns out when you’re avoiding thinking about one friend you like, your mind will just go to your other two friends and present some shiny new ‘liking them as more than friends’ idea to you. Which is just more incentive to hide in his room as long as he can.

Virgil sighs, standing up and placing the note facedown on the table. He’s got the majority of a week before he has to face anyone, and even if he doesn’t feel like dancing anymore, he’s still got plenty to do to occupy his time.

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

Logan knocks firmly on Virgil’s door.

“Virgil,” they call. “It has been five days since anyone has seen you outside your room. This has not happened before and we are all concerned. Please come out to ease our worries.”

No answer. They wait a full minute, their fist still half-raised from knocking, but still nothing.

“Move, please,” Remy says, inserting himself in Logan’s place as they step out of the way. He begins knocking loudly and quickly, barely a step down from banging. “Virgil! Get your pretty ass out here!”

No sign Virgil’s heard anything.

“Maybe he’s asleep?” Logan suggests.

“At 4PM?” Janus asks. “Virgil doesn’t nap and even a night owl like him doesn’t sleep in this late.”

Logan frowns. “Virgil is not an owl—”

“It’s an expression,” Remy explains.

“Ah.”

“Virgil,” Janus tries. “We’re all really worried. Please just open the door? You don’t even have to come out, just let us know you’re alright in there.”

They all watch the doorknob hopefully for a minute. When nothing happens, Remy sighs.

“I don’t think he’s comi—”

There’s a little shrsh of paper brushing against something as a post-it slides under the door. Janus snatches it up eagerly and the other two crowd beside faer to read it.

“I’m fine. Not coming out, sorry.”

Remy sighs again.

“At least we know he’s alright?” Logan offers.

“Yeah,” he agrees, leaning against them. “I’m just worried, y’know? Just a post-it doesn’t really help.”

“I do know; I’m worried too. However, there is nothing we can do to get Virgil out of his room, short of forcing our way inside and dragging him, until he’s ready.”

“Yeah,” Remy says again.

“Wanna go cuddle until we all feel a little better?” Janus offers. Remy smiles softly.

“Yeah.”

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

Virgil scowls at his minifridge. It’s empty, the traitor, and he’s run out of all the food in his room. He has to go out and possibly encounter other people. A tragedy.

He leaves his room at midnight, of course. Less chance of running into people, plus then when Roman makes a comment about how “it’s nice to see you’ve finally emerged from your room” Virgil can laugh at his confusion when he tells him he came out of his room a while ago, princey, where’ve you been?

Less chance of running into people doesn’t equal no chance, unfortunately, and Patton is in the kitchen baking cookies when Virgil comes out to raid it. A weird time to be baking, but Virgil will probably get warm cookies out of it, so he doesn’t question it.

“Hey, Pat,” he greets.

“Hey, kiddo! Good to see you.”

“You too,” Virgil says, shooting him a finger gun. “Anything interesting happen while I was in my room?”

Patton hums thoughtfully. “Remus switched the sugar and salt and the flour and powdered sugar this morning. I borrowed the Lilo and Stitch DVD the other day and Roman and Remus got in a fight about whether or not Roman was hiding it from Remus. Logan stayed up all night on Tuesday and collapsed around lunchtime Wednesday. Janus found another snake in the Imagination and Roman had to steal it to return it home. Oh! Logan and Janus and Remy all got together.”

Virgil freezes. “Like, got together and talked like the four of us usually do?”

“Nope! In a relationship. About the time you hid away in your room, actually.” Patton giggles a little. “It’s been really cute; Remy and Janus carried Logan upstairs after his allnighter and they’re all very sweet together.”

“Oh,” Virgil says, trying not to sound hopelessly crushed.

“Virgil?” Patton asks, turning around to look at him. “You okay?”

He forces a smile. “Just peachy.”

Patton snorts. “I doubt that, but I won’t pry if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, smile more genuine now. “Anything else to report?”

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Patton says. “But if you like, I read a really good book the other day and I could share the plot with you?”

“Sounds good,” Virgil tells him, pushing himself up on the counter as Patton launches into a rambly explanation of the storyline. They pause in the middle to pull the cookies out of the oven, and then munch on them as Patton finishes the story.

“...And then it ends on a nice, hopeful, the-future-holds-great-things ending!” Patton concludes.

“Nice,” Virgil says, shooting Patton a little smile, who returns a beaming one. “Thanks for telling me about it.”

“Thanks for listening!” Patton returns.

“Do you mind if I…” Virgil gestures towards the cookies.

“Take as many as you like,” Patton tells him. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he adds, “If you take all of them and someone washes all the dishes, then the others won’t know there were cookies to have in the first place.”

“Thanks, Patton.”

Virgil scoops up the rest of the cookies—about a dozen or so—and bids Patton goodnight before heading back into his room. He gets a little resealable baggie to slide all the cookies into and sets it on his table.

Then, with nothing else to occupy his mind, he dwells over the fact that Janus, Remy, and Logan are all in a relationship.

Patton said they’d gotten together about the time he locked himself in his room. Had they noticed he wasn’t anywhere to be found and immediately gotten together? And then only given him the note and knocked on his door out of a sense of obligation or something? And maybe because they were mad at him for missing the Thing? They wouldn’t do that.

Would they?

He doesn’t think so.

He hopes not.

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

“What?”

“Hey, Janus, it’s okay! He’s probably just sleeping or something!”

“No, he doesn’t get to come out at midnight after he’s been in his room for a week and then not come out for breakfast or something so the rest of us can know he’s alive!” Janus fumes. Fae marches over to Virgil’s room and bangs on the door. “Open up before I kick the door down!”

Janus gives him three seconds before fae backs up, planning to kick the door down. Fae could do it. Fae’d seen an article online.

“Jay, honey, wait,” Remy says, putting a hand on faer shoulder. “I’m upset too, but I’m not going to kick his door down.”

“No, because I’m going to do it for you.”

“Can we not kick my door down?” Janus turns to see Virgil, standing half in his doorway, but still out of his room. Fae immediately drags him all the way out and into a hug.

“Only if you promise not to do that again,” fae tells him.

“Fine,” Virgil sighs. He half raises his arms, then hesitates.

“Hug me back, dummy,” Janus demands. Virgil chuckles a little and hugs faer. After a bit longer, Janus gives a final squeeze before releasing him, moving back a step and brushing faerself off. “That was because I missed you, but if you breathe a word of that to anyone I’ll prank you for a week.” Fae punches him. “And that was because you worried me, jerk.”

“Ow!” Virgil rubs his arm. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Try not to sound too sincere now.” Fae crosses faer arms and rolls faer eyes.

“I really am sorry for worrying you,” Virgil says. “All of you,” he adds, looking over to where Remy and Logan had been silently watching their exchange.

“You’re forgiven,” Remy tells him. “If I get a hug too.”

Virgil shrugs loosely. “Sure.” He hugs Remy, then turns to Logan. They open their arms, and Virgil sinks into them. Janus steals another hug from Virgil once he pulls away from Logan.

“Sap,” Virgil teases.

“You can’t prove anything.”

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

Things have… gone back to normal. Technically.

Virgil hasn’t hidden away for longer than a day again, and even then, it only happened once. They’ve kept doing their Thing every week or so, and to the outside observer nothing would appear different than it had been before.

But it’s… kind of like when one “cleans their room” by shoving all their stuff into a closet. The room may appear neat, but things haven’t been put in their place, just pushed to the side to be ignored.

Similarly, there seems to be a barely-there tension in their interactions with Virgil. Logan doesn’t usually notice it, but sometimes, in lulls of conversation or merely at random intervals, they’ll feel it, simmering under the surface of things. They don’t like it, both because tension, as a rule, is uncomfortable, and because they don’t know why it’s there.

They suspect it has something to do with why Virgil locked himself in his room for a week. He still hasn’t told them why he’d done it, shrugging off any questions or deflecting the conversation away from the topic.

They also think it probably has at least a little to do with the fact that Janus, Remy, and themself still have not informed Virgil of their relationship.

Virgil is smart, and very observant. He has almost certainly picked up on the fact that the three of them are dating. He is also the type of person to pretend he doesn’t know something if he feels it is being kept secret from him, and the type to internally question why information is being “withheld” from him, and assume it is something he has done.

Logan knows this, and has been pushing Janus and Remy to tell Virgil about their relationship. Janus and Remy think they should wait longer, give Virgil more time. The first couple of weeks after Virgil emerged from his room, Logan could excuse, because they’d been rediscovering their rhythm. But enough time has passed that they have all settled back into their rhythm and now they need to inform Virgil of their relationship and correct any misconceptions he most likely has over why they have taken so long to tell him.

To return to the bedroom comparison from earlier, Logan has never been one to shove things into a closet and proclaim a room clean. Everything should be put in its place and the only things to go in the closet should be things that belong there.

This weird tension and putting off informing Virgil of their relationship do not go in “the closet.”

So, a month after the week Virgil locked himself in his room, Logan opens the figurative closet door.

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

“We’re in a relationship,” Logan tells Virgil at one of their Things. Janus and Remy’s gazes both snap over to Logan warningly, but the cat is out of the proverbial bag and this has been a long time coming anyway. “Remy, Janus, and I.”

Virgil stares for a moment.

“Cool,” he says finally. “Congratulations.” And then, since he’s a petty jerk, “Since I locked myself in my room for a bit, right?”

The three of them exchange glances.

“Yes,” Janus tells him.

“How’d you know that, doll?” Remy asks.

“Patton told me.” Virgil half-shrugs. Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Saw your chance and took it, huh?”

Logan blinks. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s nothing,” Virgil says. If he tells them, they’re going to “correct” him, even if he’s right and they just feel bad about it.

“Um, no, that’s clearly not nothing, hon,” Remy sort of laughs, though his expression is serious. Virgil shrugs again, this time with both shoulders.

“Virgil,” Janus commands. “Tell us.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and tips his head back so he doesn't have to look at them. “I’m just saying, we’re all sort of a group, and you didn’t want to feel awkward with the three of you getting together and me not, so once you noticed I was out of the way, you took the opportunity and asked each other out.”

“No,” Remy corrects, because that is so far from what actually happened it might as well be on the other side of the planet. “That is definitely not what happened, V, dear.”

“Sure,” Virgil agrees, in a way that says he clearly doesn’t believe him but doesn’t want to fight over it.

“You think we, what—saw you locked yourself in your room and decided that was a good chance to exclude you?” Logan asks incredulously.

Virgil snaps and points at them. “That would be what happened.”

“That’s not what happened,” Logan insists.

“Look,” Virgil says, tilting his head up to look at the three of them. “You don’t have to lie to me to be nice or spare my feelings or whatever. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” Janus tells him.

“Then explain it to me.”

“I realized how gay I was,” Remy explains. “Ran into Jan and Lo, asked them out, and we all got together. We decided to ask you at the next one of these Things we had, since that was the next time we were guaranteed to all be together alone. When you didn’t show up, we got worried but wanted to give you space, so we mostly left you be until Patton told us you’d come out and then we pulled you out of your room because we figured you were ready enough to come out.”

“And then, what, you just chose not to tell me you guys were dating for a month?” Virgil asks.

“We were trying to find a good time,” Logan tells him.

“It’s been a month; there’s been plenty of time,” Virgil snaps.

Then he stops, tilts his head to the side.

“Wait…” he says slowly. “Did— Did you say ‘ask me’? Like, ask me out?”

“Yeah, duh,” Remy replies.

“You guys like me?”

“I doubt we would hang out with you every week if we disliked you, Virgil.” Janus rolls faer eyes.

“You guys like me romantically?” Virgil amends.

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Duh.”

Virgil curls himself up, burying his head in his knees as he processes this. Remy gently lays a hand on his knee.

“It’s okay if you don’t like us back, or only like one or two of us, hon,” Remy tells him. “But we’d like you to join our relationship, if you’ll have us.”

The knee starts trembling under his hand, and Remy realizes Virgil’s crying. “Oh, hon…” He gathers him up in a hug.

“I—I thought you were avoiding telling me because you didn’t want me to know,” Virgil stammers through his tears. “I thought you’d noticed I left and saw that as your chance to get together without me being around. I thought— I thought—” He starts crying too hard to talk.

Remy holds him, and Janus and Logan move over to them and help whisper assurances that no, they would never, that they love him so much and they’re so sorry it came to this. Their hands on his knee and back and Remy’s arms around him are bright spots of warmth that Virgil relishes.

He cries until he thinks he can’t, until one of them murmurs, “We’re here; we love you,” and sends him to fresh tears. He cries for an hour, at least, and when he’s truly sobbed out all the hurt over this inside him, the other three are still there with him.

“Sorry,” Virgil whispers, not fully trusting his voice.

Logan frowns. “What for?”

He gestures a little to the huddle they’re in. “Messing up this. Crying on you guys for like an hour.”

“You haven’t messed up anything,” Remy assures him. “And we’re happy to let you cry on us all you want.”

“Better than shoving your emotions down and ignoring them as they fester,” Janus adds.

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil nods and scrubs at his face. “Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Logan says.

“This might be a bad time,” Remy says, “and feel free to tell me off if it is, but does this mean you want to be our boyfriend?”

Virgil laughs, a little wetly. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Remy says. “We would, too.”

“Celebratory ‘we gained a boyfriend’ cuddles,” Janus declares, pulling them over to the bed. No one resists, and they cuddle until they fall asleep on each other.

[cowandcalf]

Writer’s Month 2020 - To Find A Way

Prompt No.6 - Ocean

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Danny kicks the entrance door gently open. "Coming in!" He shouts into the room before he hesitantly steps in, guarded, and with perked ears. He still doesn't know what's up with Steve. He's definitely ex-military or special ops, definitely ex-elite. "Hey, Steve, give a sign so I know that you know I'm coming in. You gave me quite the show out there." He calls and listens but all he hears is irritated, half-loud breathing out from the left.

It's a funny building. The façade is a solid brick wall with windows but behind the door, space opens up into one big room. It's spacious, simple white walls which have seen better days. The wooden planks on the floor are worn and dusty but add a comfy touch to the atmosphere. The set-up in the single room is sparse: there's a large navy-blue couch with a few strewn pillows pushed against the wall, right under a big America flag that is pinned to the wall.

Steve watches him with certain alertness. "Weapon's on the table. I'm not going to shoot you. If I have wanted you off my ground you would be already on your way back where you came from. I wanted to scare you off. Didn't work. You're still here." Steve states calmly. "You know Kame and you've brought food. You've gained some credit to negotiate."

There's something in Steve's voice. Danny's heart answers to the silent undercurrent. Heat spreads over his torso. "Negotiate? About what? I'm the one with the food, smartass." Danny chuckles. "You know, that's not the best way to start a conversation with a guy you don't know." Steve doesn't answer.

Danny makes out about three dirty raincoats on a racket on the wall and several bags of potting soil piled up in the corner. "Play nice, Tarzan. I come in peace." Danny strolls into the big room and sees the makeshift kitchen built from a table at the other side. He spots an electric water jug, a tray with different sized mugs, a fridge and the stuff people need to eat and cook. "Do you live out here?" He asks.

"You ask too many questions for a guy who plays a delivery boy." Steve leans against a super long and old wooden table. He darts him a hot, dark look. Danny's sure Steve aims to be intimidating but all Danny could feel is more heat spreading further south.

"Touché." Danny grins and juts his chin out. "What are you doing with all the baby flowers? Planting? Dotting the jungle with colors? Creating a magic garden?" He points behind Steve where a heap of fresh soil sits in the middle of the table. Steve must have potted flowers. The chaos has an order and next to the small, empty flowerpots are a few plastic crates with a large variety of baby flowers. Danny sweats and the flutter of nervousness makes him run his mouth.

Steve has his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands rest on the rim of the wood table. "Why is it so difficult for an HPD Detective to imagine a man doing gardening, invested in the flora and fauna of Hawai'i?" Steve slips into a defensive mechanism and wears a harder streak around his mouth.

Danny knows he has to control his brain to mouth filter. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I know, it's super impolite to ask prying questions but you held me at gunpoint. That was rude and I guess I've earned the right to go a bit off the rails with the rules of how a stranger behaves in a guy's private room." The lunch bags noisily land on the wooden surface of the smaller kitchen table.

Steve eyes him with high concentration and an unreadable face. "Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

"Safes lives," Danny answers without batting an eye. He keeps his cool but feels Steve's tension like barely-there electricity. His hair on both arms feels sensitive to the unfamiliar vibes he tries to analyze. Danny gestures a bit bashfully into the direction of Steve's baby flower collection. "I was disrespectful. I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just wanted to break the ice, get the talk going, you know."

"I'm not offended, annoyed would come pretty close though. You talk a guy's head off and I'm hungry. I don't like to waste time. I have to finish my daily workload."

"Duly noted," Danny turns his head. "Got any plates?" He feels like the fifth wheel. Steve and his plants are a solid union and he's the intruder. He can't shake the feeling Steve would want him to leave. This dark, dangerous, super handsome man gets antsier the longer Danny stays in a close range.

"And they're called seedlings or offset, not baby flowers." Steve pushes off the rim of the table he has leaned against. His voice is defensive. "Wash your hands first. Hand sanitizer is over there." He orders and points to the corner with the sink.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to contaminate your private rooms. I can assure you I'm very cautious and I take the rules of the Lockdown very seriously. Do you want me to put my mask back on?" Danny walks over to the washbasin and turns the faucet on. The liquid soap squirts on his hand. He cocks his head and glances over his shoulder. "Do you need me to put my mask back on?" He asks again.

Steve's bleak expression quickly turns, he scowls. "No."

Danny nods and watches, lost in thoughts, how the water swirls before it vanishes down the drain. The sudden mood-drop takes him off-guard. The light banter hasn't breached the steel walls Steve seemed to draw up when Danny turns his eyes in his direction. He feels sad. The dull emptiness swashes in his stomach and steals his appetite. "Do you want me to leave?" He has no idea why he asks this. It's important to hear Steve's answer.

Steve takes his time to reply. Danny dries his hands with paper towels. He tries to find the waste bin. The longer Steve makes him wait for the answer the more determined Danny gets to stay. "Okay, big guy, I get it. You don't like visitors. You don't even like visitors who bring food. And I'll leave but you just have to say it. I'm not offended. I can eat my delicious shrimps somewhere on a rock, gazing over the ocean. I just thought you might enjoy the company."

Steve has his arms crossed over his chest. A sheen of sweat covers his upper body. Danny notices the way he balls his fists and how his biceps bulge. Steve is nervous. The realization hits Danny. He keeps Steve in his sight and steps toward the big, old wooden table. Steve's stance is wide. He seems to feel uncomfortable. "You can stay." He says flatly. The vibes he gives off make Danny's neck muscles tense.

"Okay, let's eat then and I'm out of your hair." Danny grabs the bags. He still hasn't found plates. It's not very stimulating to notice Steve's not supportive. Maybe the unexpected disappointment Danny senses on his tongue makes him act unwary. He spots the waste bin at the other end of the seedling station. Steve's wary gaze gets him clumsy. Danny steps forward to throw the paper ball into the waste bin but he bumps into the corner of the huge, old table.

Everything happens in slow motion. Danny watches how the impact makes the freshly repotted seedlings wobble before three pots tumble over the edge and start to fall. Danny hears the surprised and fearful gasp from Steve and he expects this athlete of a man to leap forward to catch his babies. Instead, Steve freezes and Danny has his hands full with the bags of shrimps and the paper towel. He's too slow. There's this split second where he watches how the pots get pulled down to the floor by gravity. He decides to hold on to the food and drops the paper towels. He tries to catch one of the pots, without success.

The loud noise of cracking clay pots seems to detonate in the utter silence. Danny feels the hard push of hands and he stumbles. Steve rudely shoves him aside. Danny hears Steve's harsh panting he sucks in air like a drowning man.

"I'm sorry, Steve. Shit, sorry man. I didn't mean to – "

"What have you done?" Steve crouches on the floor, hunched over the broken pots. His hands fly over the spilled baby-plants without coordination. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" He yells.

Danny doesn't understand what's happening. He watches helplessly how Steve falls apart right before his eyes. "Steve, I'm sorry. Come on, let me help you." He drops the bag with lunch on the floor and squats down. His hand comes down to rest gently on Steve's shoulder.

Steve's wild. The angry jerk has Danny almost drop on his rear. His hand got swatted off aggressively. "Go away. Leave! You have to leave, I need – I can't," Steve's voice is a hoarse croak, laced with a fear Danny can't grasp but he’s more than willing to try to understand.

"Hey, buddy, let me help you."

"They're hurt, god, I have to – I have to," Steve murmurs to himself. Sweat runs down his temple and leaves a wet track in the smudge of dirt on his skin.

Nausea sets in the pit of Danny's stomach when he sees how Steve shakes. Within seconds he's covered in sweat and collapses slowly with his entire focus on the plants on the floor. His hands scoop up the flower dirt around the naked plants. The gentle, white baby-roots show and one of the young leaves is broken. Steve seems heartbroken. He cups them with both hands, his breathing ragged.

Danny can't move, too frightened by the shocking realization about what he's witnessing. Steve is caught in a world Danny can't see but he senses in what kind of horrible loop Steve has been sucked in. Battlefields. War zones. Destruction and death, agonizing memories Danny can't even start to fathom how unsettling those inner images must be. They seem to rule Steve's presence. The broken clay pots have flipped a switch.

"They'll make it. Yeah, you'll be fine, fine. I'm not giving up on you," Steve's eyes dart over to Danny.

The wild, helpless look on his face kicks Danny into motion. Steve must have lost friends in horrible fights, bled to death, nasty bullet wounds in impassable areas with no help to get them out alive. Danny has no idea if he's interpreting the situation correctly. Sever PTSD has many faces. And he's sure he stares in one of them now. Danny only knows he has to help Steve save the plants no matter how ridiculous this might seem. They're more to Steve than just plants. They're his friends who got killed in action. The ones Steve couldn't save.

Danny jumps to his feet. "I've got you, Steve. I'm here. We'll save your plants. Let's – " he walks over to this proud, brave man who's hunched over, unable to snap out of it. Danny empties one of the crates and is back at Steve's side in a second. "Put them in here. We'll pot them in new and bigger flower pots, okay? Here, lay them down, yes, just like that. They're strong. They're gonna make it."

Steve's hands shake uncontrollably. Danny tries not to stare at the strong arms and the helpless way Steve's experiences as a soldier let him crash completely. He's drowning in an ocean of bad memories that have messed so terribly with the emotional state he almost keens over baby-plants on the floor. "They're gonna be fine, yes," Steve mumbles and does as Danny says.

Danny wants to cry. The cruelty and the unfairness of the world cut through him like a glowing blade. He hands Steve the crate with the saved flower seedlings. "Let's get up. Come on. They need your care, new soil, and some water." Danny grunts when he pushes himself up. His knee screams with pain from kneeling for so long. He pushes the pain aside. "Steve?" He whispers.

Steve's hunched over and cleans the floor with his bare hands. Damp soil seems to be everywhere. He scoops the spilled soil to a smaller heap, totally caught up in this mundane action. Danny's eyes catch the tremor in his left hand. He bites his lips and waits a moment to collect his emotions that are all over the place. "Steve? Come on, buddy, get up." Danny touches Steve's shoulder once again, cautious and butterfly soft fingertips graze over Steve's bare shoulder. He waits and almost sobs when Steve twitches and shuffles to get up from kneeling on the floor but waits instead.

Danny doesn't know what to do. "I uh, look, I put the crate on the table. Your babies have enough earth. You take your time, okay? I'll, uhm, I'll go and make some coffee." Danny puts the box on the wooden table and turns his back to Steve. He washes his hands under the faucet. He bites his tongue and swallows the shock.

He listens with a wild beating heart when Steve gets up. Nothing. He hears nothing after that. He slowly turns around and holds his breath. Steve hugs his upper body, rocking back and forth. His breathing is labored and he still seems to be a prisoner of the relapse he experiences. His shirt is soaked in sweat. His skin glistens in the evening light. Steve looks lost.

Danny tosses the rag with which he has dried his hands in a corner of the makeshift kitchen. He knows from police training that people with an anxiety disorder need different tools to flip the switch, to get out of the loop. He has no idea if Steve has such a toolbox or if he needs something else. He has to try to get him out of the destructive undercurrent of the dark, dangerous ocean he has been sucked in. It's Danny's fault, Steve's such a mess. It's his fucking fault. He has to try!

"Steve," Danny whispers, scared to spook him with a too-loud voice, "what do you need?"

TBC

Also on AO3 - To Find A Way