#but i think the real worse thing is forcing people to continually stay awake for all the hours theyre not asleep

[marsixm]

also god i hate the afternoon. i really do. if i could work in the morning and leave and work at night id be happy. if i could spend the afternoon asleep instead id be happy. i usually go to the store i work at in the morning on tuesday to get groceries and to say hi to the morning people i usually dont see but i got a late start and went at 1 pm and it sucked! the vibes sucked so bad!!! everyone was in a worse mood and it was hot outside!!!!!!

[n30nwrites]

Rest in Peace (Jason Todd)

Pronouns: He/Him

Warnings: Character Death, Gore, Fighting, Jason Dies, You Die, Zombies??? Angst

Relationship: Jason Todd x Male! Reader

Notes; This is something I came up with real quick, it's nothing long but it's something I was thinking about in case I wanted to continue this sometime.

Your mother always said you were a smart one. It was proven shortly after you had graduated highschool at the young age of 8, which was a surprise in itself but when you are determined at that age, nothing can stop you. Then you got your undergraduate degree, which took another 2 years, before taking the 3 years of medical school and then your 3 years of residency, all which amounted to now.

You rushed through your childhood to provide more for your mom, living in Gotham is bad enough, living in the Bowery meant only the worse. Constantly carrying a weapon on you (or in your case, multiple), running into criminals and prostitutes and people without homes. Children would run amuck, determined to live without parents and without rules. It was home because it was affordable, something to house you but it wasn’t home, it couldn’t be. It was often broken into, there were multiple times you’d have to wake up and fight for your life or for your mother.

So maybe you were never a child in the first place.

That’s why part of you was thankful for your soulmate. You knew his name, Jason Todd, you had communicated with him through your body, which sounded strange but it was the way you both talked. Writing on your own skin would show on his, but it wasn’t just writing. Any pain and emotion was shared as well, and many times Jason was forced awake in the middle of the night because of your fights, and many times he has interrupted your schooling with fights during the day.

But you both apologized, and it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, it was you two.

Until you died.

You were 16, at a college party that some Residents that you were in charge of talked about. They underestimated you, you hated them for that. You showed up to alcohol and drugs, for being this generation's future doctors, they sure were reckless with their lives.

It was fun, you drank a little because you wanted to let loose, and you wrote to Jason asking if he was okay because he hadn’t responded. He still didn’t but you figured he was busy, until you felt it. You feel your wrists bruising as if they are tied together, and it isn’t long before your cheek hurts as blood fills your mouth, as if something had hit you. You coughed, before you were hit again in the ribs and your body stuttered onto the wall.

And then they busted in.

You don’t really remember their faces, they all wore clown masks and purple suits, they held weapons. Guns, crowbars, bats, knives, and more guns. Everyone shrieked, some people attempted to fight back and were quickly silenced, and they commanded everyone to get on the ground. They seemed to be looking for someone.

It was you.

You fell to the ground and yelled in pain and the men grabbed your arm and pulled you to the middle of the room. “Found him.” One of them says into a walkie-talkie. You begged for them to stop, for your soulmate to be safe. They stripped you down into your underwear and laughed, before carving something into you. 

One thing about sharing the pain with your soulmate is that you don’t get any marks from it. You can feel it, and it will show for a while, but it won’t stay scarred. So while your soulmate is getting violently beaten, so are you.

Matching scars, matching souls.

They kill you soon after, between the two beatings you could barely stay awake for, the other goons start killing the students around you, and it's all going so fast. You can make out words forming on your wrist. 

‘I luv u’ it’s such a horrible spelling that you knew Jason was desperate. It made you let out a sob as you desperately tried to respond, it was spelled out in his own blood, and the only way you could respond back was with a poorly formed heart before you felt your wrist break.

You remember the burning before dying. Then nothing else.

It isn’t until you’re digging out of your own grave that you remember everything. You’re dressed nicely, in a suit your mother couldn’t afford that was now covered in dirt. Your fingers are bleeding, but you stare at your grave stone instead. Well it isn’t just your grave stone.

You had a shared one, with Jason Todd.

It seemed you both had died on the same day. While yours says ‘Beloved Son’, Jason’s says ‘Beloved Son, Brother, and Friend.’ which makes you feel just a little lonely. The angel statue that is supposed to bless your graves feels more hollow than comforting. But you stayed focus on the last line on yours and Jason's shared grave.

‘Two souls joined together at last.’

You still didn’t feel whole though. And why were you alive now?

And why were you suddenly hungry for brains?

[beesmygod]

i only read tumblr once a day because i [try] to stay sane so only just caught up with the art discourse, which I do have some bits n shit I want to add: a bit fasile for one but, dont you as an artist have upkeep and resource needs to produce? even if its just like...computer, tablet and necessities to continue existence because art takes time to make, those are real, and cost money. "art" in an absolute sense can be made for free with minimal time through just thinking, but like, a webcomic that is a physical thing made of electronic patterns and hosted on a server, takes time and takes stuff. "Webcomics" isnt a free infinitely repeating resource, and you are more than a machine to create webcomic, and none of us are infinite as a resource! at worst, art hits public domain eventually. that said even from that place of survival in capitalistic society it DOES make sense to at least have free public facing art as PROMOTION even if its just idk downtime sketches, doodles, memes, fanart etc so like im not 100% disagreeing yknow, and I am not and artists cant be a paying consumer my/their own art, art has to exist for the self too, the self that isnt a "paying class", or i just start making marvel movies and then its time to find my cool wet hole in the dirt and express my creative individuality like im a mathmatician of statistical analysis of fluid dynamics.

now that im awake i was going to answer these point by point, but this kind of flies past my point that making art exclusively for those who pay is abysmal and treating your audience like they're thieves is a poisonous and off-putting response to one's perceived "loss of income" (which is not even theft because the item being "stolen" can be reproduced infinitely. im talking about like a digital image like a comic page and not a physical item where there's limited copies lol). people either want to pay you or they dont; you can't force people to pay you by making access to your work harder, worse, more inconvenient, and more degrading to your audience. you can't induce artificial scarcity and be a good person.

like yeah obviously art production takes money. that's why most artists work desk jobs instead of trying to make it a solo venture and just expecting the world around them to pick up their slack. i didn't come out of a lotus blossom with a tablet ready to go, i worked desk jobs from age 15-24 in order to have enough savings to cushion myself if need be and pay for base supplies. i use tablets and items gifted/sold to me at a steep discount by my friends. i lived really poor in order to have the life i wanted. and i really loved it lol. i still think of that time so fondly.

once the comic is produced and posted, it is free for my audience to look at and the reproduction costs of the finished image is 0 dollars. it can be copied and reposted freely without charge. it costs me basically nothing to host. the production costs are currently covered by patreon donations. if they were no longer covered by patreon donations i would get a desk job instead of making my choice to go into the financially unsuccessful field of the arts my audience's personal problem to solve. if i don't make things people want to buy, that's my problem and not my audience's.

yeah, it would suck to have to stop doing this because its no longer financially viable (it is really financially hard right now; the state of the world around us is not conductive to the patreon life), but i wasn't entitled to it anyway. i get to make art for a living bc i have an audience that permits me to. why would i start treating them like dogshit or lying about value of my work to squeeze extra money out of them after what they gifted me?

[thatgoblin]

Just a fun idea I may delve into should the depression and anxiety wane.

Your mom remarried after your dad dies, making you and your twin brother, Alex, move across the world to live with your new step dad and step brother, Johnny. Not only did you move, but so did your step family. It’s an old fixer-upper, and your mom loves it. She's in the real estate business, and it's perfect to keep the whole family busy over summer break and give everyone bonding time.

All you care about is that you moved over 6,000 miles away from everything you knew. Even if Scotland was a place you had always wanted to visit, it's now tainted by you being forced to live with your idiot step brother, who you barely understand.

While Alex is introduced to Johnny's friends, you're left at home because 'boys only'. Sticking to your mom's side, trying to have the least amount of interaction with your step dad, you slowly get used to the place. Sure, there's creaks and groans, but the house is stupid old. Sometimes, you hear people murmuring in a room down the hall when no one else is home, but you're sure it's just a radio your mom left on while painting a room.

Then Alex starts hating his room. It smells horrible, and no matter how much he cleans, it just smells like rotten meat. Johnny and him end up sharing a room to escape the smell, and it works for a while until the smell follows to Johnny's room with twice the intensity.

Your mom refuses to think it's weird and continues on as if nothing is happening, only giving air sprays to fight the stench.

A couple of weeks have gone by before Johnny’s friends visit. They keep to themselves as you work to clean out the attic, your mom giving you the option to use that as your room so Alex can have his own room again. You're almost done moving things when you're being hit with tiny pebbles in the back of the head. Frustrated, you spin to yell at Johnny or Alex or even his friends, but no one is there.

They stay the night, and unbeknownst to anyone, they use an old pendant to ask spirits questions. It was just something spooky to do for fun, but when you get jerked out of bed, someone dragging you by the ankle, your screams wake everyone up.

Of course your mom thinks it was just a bad dream despite your statements of being awake. The boys don't say anything, unusually quiet. From then on, it gets worse and not just for you.

Alex gets hit in the head by a cupboard door slamming shut on its own. Johnny keeps finding roaches in his bed, no matter that he leaves the blankets off or doesn't eat in his room. Your mom and step dad are oblivious, not having experienced anything other than you and your siblings being 'dramatic.' Things keep falling in Alex's first room. There's nothing in there, it's empty, but there's thuds of objects falling. Your books, Alex's game controllers, Johnny’s shoes, etc.

Finally, something happens that your parents can't deny. You're minding your own business when the thumps start again. You're used to it by now and ignore it. All of you do.

But this time it gets louder and louder. Your mom goes to the stairs to yell at Alex and Johnny to knock it off, but everyone is downside the livingroom while you and her were in the kitchen. Staring at one another, the thumps stop at the top of the stairs as the sound of creaking rope as something swings comes from the vaulted ceiling.

Looking up, you fall down as you choke on your own spit as everyone panics.

Looking back down at you is a man who had hung himself, smiling with wide eyes. You know the man as well, making it even more horrific.

It's your deceased father, who had passed from hanging himself almost 3 years ago, 6,000 miles away in a house that had since been destroyed.

[bb-kawa]

A Night to Remember

Leona Kingscholar x Oc. Leona Kingscholar x Reader. 

This is more of an OC fic but it’s written in 2nd person so if you vibe with it you can still read.

I interpret twisted wonderland as being an actual University where magical men and women attend. So Oc/Reader has magic.

Warning: sleeping in the same bed but there’s no smut. Oc/Reader plays video games, Oc/Reader is described as extroverted and snarky. Oc/Reader is described as having magic.

It is implied to be female reader at one point but I don’t believe there are actual pronouns used. If i am wrong please shoot me a message to my inbox.

Don’t like don’t read. If you click readmore then you’ve consented to read whatever it is i’ve written.

Summary: What happens when Leona shows up to your dorm room late at night asking to sleep in your bed? Read more to find out. 

fluff drabble

ao3

It's late in the evening and you vaguely hear the knock on your door as you sit at your computer talking with your friends through your headset. You're quite surprised given the time. People don't usually stop by your dorm room so late in the evening, unless someone's desperate to copy your homework.

 Thinking it's a friend from class, you approach the door, swinging it open, and are surprised to see Leona Kingscholar standing in the hallway. Looking as bored and impassive as usual. You also realize that he is in fact topless. Wearing nothing but sweats and a blanket thrown over his arm. Did he walk all the way from the savanaclaw dorms like that? You try to stop your eyes from trailing down his frame in apprecia -disbelief as you double check that no one else is standing in the hallway.

 You're a little shocked but nonetheless, a pleased smile graces your features. You did consider Leona to be your friend. Whether he thought the same was something you weren't sure about. He did seem to enjoy all your snarky remarks at spell drive practice. However, he also appeared to be significantly more introverted than you, so hanging out with him outside of practice didn't seem like a practical thing for you to desire.

 "Leona? What's up?" You ask him. Trying to keep your eyes on his face and not anything else that was currently on display for you.

 "Let me in and let me sleep here." He asks, though it comes off as more of a demand.

 You do let him in though, slightly confused. Who could say no honestly.

 "Sleep here... Why here?" You ask in return. "I'm playing games online with my friends you know. It's not gonna be quiet."

 "Mm… it's fine. Spells exist for a reason. And because I like your company." He answers already plopping onto your bed and sneaking under the covers. "Also no one will find me here."

 Ah, so the real reason comes out, despite your heart fluttering at the 'enjoying your company part'.

 Before you have the chance to say anything to his clearly out of the norm request, you notice his breathing steady out, the peaceful fall of his face, and the full relaxation of a man who has just fallen asleep. You're flabbergasted. He fell asleep in three seconds! How is that possible? He didn't even wait for a response! What if you had said no? You stand there wondering what the hell is happening.

 It's fine, you suppose. There could definitely be worse things than a sleeping man in your bed. And you would have told him yes anyways, if he had actually stayed awake long enough to hear your response.

 You cast a silencing bubble around him and continue on with your nightly activities. On the bright side it's a Friday so no need to worry about classes tomorrow. Or forcing the sleeping lion to actually attend class for once.

 You make your excuses to your friends about who was at your door and continue playing. Every so often you turn to look at Leona. You feel a bit awkward, but the feeling is suppressed by how cute Leona looks sleeping. You've stumbled upon him occasionally napping in the botanical garden, but this is very different.

 His body is currently in your bed touching your blankets. While he was popular for his looks, most girls realized his personality wasn't… the best. You still liked him though. He's blunt and rude remarks always had you holding back a laugh and he seemed to enjoy your amusement.

 Eventually enough time goes by and you figure it's time to sleep. You say bye to your friends and carry on to your restroom to finish up your bedtime routine.

 You walk back to your bed wondering what to do next. Should you just. . . sleep next to him? Would that be weird? He technically came into your bed first and you certainly weren't going to give up your bed and sleep on your small dorm couch.

 You dispel the silencing bubble and gingerly climb in next to him, shuffling yourself under the blankets and gently nudging him on the shoulder.

 "Leona." You prompt watching his eyes slowly peer open. "Leona I'm going to sleep now, are you going to stay here?"

 The silence stretches as you wait for him to process what you said.

 "Can I?" He asks, and your heart nearly falls out of your body at his tone of voice. He sounds almost hopeful.

 You always liked the men from Sunset Savannah. Their 'put women first' mentality always pleased you. And while he was a hotheaded moron a lot of the times, he was never rude or mean to you.

 "Yes." You answer. The shift in him is immediate as he leans in closer to you.

 "Can I hold you?" He asks. You feel as if his green eyes are staring into your soul. Daring you to answer him.

 "Yes" you answer immediately. Perhaps too quickly. Has Leona always been this blunt? He is straightforward but certainly not about his feelings.

 You feel your stomach flip in excitement as he pulls you in closer to him. Wrapping his arms around you. You're glad it's dark, hoping that he can't see the giddy smile on your face. You try to relax into his embrace. It wouldn't help to stay up all night because you can't stop smiling like a complete idiot.

 His free hand moves along your back, his fingerprints tracing up your spine. It feels heavenly.

 "Shhhh, relax." He whispers. You let go of the tension you feel in your shoulders. The warmth of his body seeping into you.

 His steady breaths slowly lull you to sleep and the last thing you remember is hoping the grumpy lion will continue to take advantage of your generous hospitality in the future.

-reblogs or likes appreciated <3

[em0tionl0rd]

Dear friends,

For anyone who has been a long-time follower or hasn't heard from me in a long time, years even, or has ever wondered/worried about me, this is for you:

The past few years have folded over like an accordion for me. A lot of horrible/terrible things have happened. And my memory is no longer what it used to be. My mind seems to naturally cope with trauma and any negative interactions by locking them away deep within it's confines. Despite this, I always try to stay positive, because I know nobody likes to hear about bad things because it only makes them feel bad. Worse, they feel bad for me, and I don't need need people's sympathy. I just need time to heal, and that's what I have been doing; Taking my time. Previous post on the matter.

It was just One thing after Another, for Years, and my mind's trauma response was to simply cope and continue to endure helplessly instead of push myself away from the situation I was in. You can really see this with my lack of activity on here through my Archive. (not including my art side-blog since I tend to just mass dump whatever art and doodles I've accumulated over there). I was active on Twitter for a bit during Tumblrs downturn, but then Twitter changed. I nuked my art account over there. It's empty. All the posts I made to nobody about my characters and headworld, gone. All because I didn't want my art and ideas stolen and used for Al training.

My main Twitter remains active. I just use it to reblog art now and casually tweet about stuff. Initially I used Twitter to follow content creators, but as my timeline got cluttered, I made alts to follow specific topics. I started using my main to follow news and current issues, and my art account to follow artists and content creators, which I still do, but I retweet to my main only. Then all my art likes stay on my art account and don't comingle with political issues.

I was going to work, and while I would work, I just kept thinking, non-stop. Thinking about all the bad things. Failing to distract myself with my own characters and my story universe. Unintentionally over-sharing with coworkers because at some point in my life I learned how to cope with my anxiety by talking, and talking, and talking.. Unintentionally forming bonds with people I should have never associated with because I felt so desperate for real human interaction other than what I imagined in my head. Something other than my daemons, my conscience, my delusions. The swirling thoughts, the nightmares, the dreams that haunted me just as much as my reality.

Every week, for years, I was experiencing these nightmares. Something would manifest in my room. I could sense it was there. I couldn't escape it. Even if I went to bed and tried my best not to think about it, it would get me. It enjoyed tormenting me.

I started to stay up later and later, fearing laying bed and being prone to this unseen entity. Hoping that depriving myself of sleep would help me fall asleep faster and whisk me away to the sanctity of dreams, but even then, I wasn't safe. If I ever overslept, or didn't do enough to make myself tired before bed, it would find me. If it was merely psychosis, I couldn't tell, because it felt so real.

Eventually, after everything I went through with my ex, things changed for the better, when it came to sleep at least. There was no longer a shadowy presence standing there, grinning at me feet from my bed, or watching me at my desk, waiting for me to go to bed. Instead, there were actual hallucinations. Sleep depravation had taken it's toll on me. My ex had kept me awake many, many nights during my workweek, and forced me to drink with him, or made noise that kept me awake because he would stay up all night.

I distinctly remember watching these long brown withered fingers reaching out of the utility closet in the bedroom while we were both sleeping, and shaking the door violently as if it were trying to get out/in. My eyes were open just enough while I was asleep for this to fully wake me up and scare me. I remember turning over to my ex whimpering and he didn't even care..

Then when he was finally gone (for good), I continued to hallucinate. I had gotten into such a habit of staying up, on top of my uncomfortable sleeping situation due to work related physical pain (among other things), that I started seeing full-body characters dancing in my doorframe. This was completely new to me because before, it was less of a visual hallucination and more like THERE IS A GHOST RIGHT THERE, and now it was more like my eyes were legit not working properly. I just remember staring at my door and seeing all the Digimon characters, full color and everything, dancing and moving around like my eyes were projecting a perfect recreation of them.

I noticed in the past that if I binged a certain amount of content, my eyes would start generating new versions of what I was looking at whenever I closed my eyes. Like my brain could take all this information and create something completely unique and original, which amazed me. For example, whenever I would browse Deviantart and look at character designs or dragons or something, I would close my eyes and every time I closed my eyes I would see a completely new and unique fleshed out design in full color. The downside was that they were usually too detailed for me to do justice in drawing.

I also just see ever-changing generic psychedelic patterns and colorful concentric waves at the edges of my vision. The only time I ever see these properly with my eyes fully open is if I'm staring at the ceiling or the grass or if I press my arm against my eyes. Then there was the one time I was flying out of LA and had taken a 1g thc tab while sleep deprived and noticed a little blob of rainbows in the plane window after take-off. (my ex pushed alcohol and weed on me really hard despite me not wanting anything to do with it bc i don't need it)

So anyway, I had binge watched Digimon Adventure and was now seeing all of the characters in my bedroom door. That was a new one for me. Before I would just stare at the cottage cheese patterned ceiling and try to make out characters in the bumps. I did this my whole life as I had the same ceiling as a kid at my childhood home.

I went back and watched Digimon because I never really got to watch it as a kid and had vague memories of it being overly-dramatic (I was like maybe 4-5) and My Gosh that show goes hard for a kids show. Completely unrelated to my rambling but I wish more kids shows were comfortable tackling such hard-hitting issues, my gosh. Modern media is too soft and probably sets a bad example of reality. (my dad let me watch gory horror movies, rated r flicks, and explicit 90s anime as a kid so who am i to talk)

Before my ex and around the time the nightmares started, I started having surreal auditory hallucinations while half awake. I remember waking up to a small black geometric object floating above my face with blue lines running across it's surface. I was in the thralls of sleep paralysis and felt like it was just floating there above my face watching me. Another time, while my niece was over, I remember hearing something at the top of my stairs, clawing at the carpet and growling at me. For context, I was living in my mom's attic. It was relatively small, with low ceiling, and carpeted.

This thing that was growling at me and snarling genuinely worried me because my niece started developing very strange behavioral issues around this time, but I won't get into that here. I don't think people want to hear my supernatural/paranormal psychology ramblings. I'm just happy that after talking to my mom about it my niece is getting some much needed help. I was so worried that I remember breaking down and crying over it at work.

I felt like something was attached to my niece, and that thing was sort of a manifestation of that that only I could hear while I was half awake. Before it climbed the stairs and started growling, I distictly remember hearing it mimicking my nieces laughter (she was just a baby). And the way it dug it's claws into the carpet and growled, this guttural snarl, I couldn't tell what it was. It felt inhuman.

Around this time, because I was so isolated, and generally miserable, all the research I had been doing into various paranormal and metaphysical phenomena had taken a detrimental toll on my mental health. As you can clearly tell from all of this rambling about things unseen. I started believing that lizard people were real and lived on Saturn. Yes, because I read it on someone's blog. And because of that, I started to be attacked in my sleep by what I can only describe as something reptilian in nature. It somehow had the ability to appear before me and put me into sleep paralysis, pick me up, and send me to the shadow realm (or at least that's what it felt like) where it would claw and bite and do unspeakable things to me while I was unable to move or fight back or even scream.

These experiences carried over after my mom kicked me out. They followed me to my apartment, and they stuck with me for a majority of the time I was with my ex. Part of me really hoped that living with a real living breathing human being would help me out of my psychosis, but that was kind of hard given that he was an actual sociopath and psycho himself. I had no grounding in reality other than work. Work started feeling like an escape. And talking with coworkers even more-so.

For context, my mom did nothing to help. Both of my parents have mental health issues, and I don't want to talk about it. I'm saving that for my biography. My mom kicked me out because the internship program she forced me into in 2018-2019 didn't get me employed right away, so I ended up living with a social worker for a short while who was also a pet foster. It was a bit chaotic with all the animals but I was able to get a job and my own place and get away from my mom which was good. Also my mom was drinking when she decided to come upstairs and lecture me (again) for 2+ hours about how useless I was.

As you can tell, there was already plenty of fuel on the fire for my mental health issues to spiral out of control. I started to neglect my art, my characters, my story, my wellbeing. Yet I somehow managed to keep it together, for the most part. Enough to be employable and push myself to socialize more at work and be personable and friendly. It helps to be overly self-conscious of how I come off to people due to being bullied throughout HS for being "weird"..

I felt like I peaked in 2014-2015 while I was still in Highschool and spent most of my time outside of school hanging out with friends in Minecraft servers. I was having so much fun despite my circumstances, but then the balance shifted in a really bad direction. At one point I was even living with my grandma in an even worse situation back in 2017 just because I was that desperate to get away from my mom.

While in my internship program I realized how freeing it was to be out in the city during the day while taking the bus to work. I was far away from home back in that small farm town and got to spend time at the mall every day which was cool. I got to see the city in fall and winter and it translated well into living on my own bc I had already familiarized myself with the bus routes enough to continue using them when I got another job. I also used them when I was with my ex to get out. Other than that I biked to work. More on that later.

And during my downtime in this program I spent so much time drawing. It was like being back in class in Highschool and sitting at my desk and doodling while the teacher was talking. (it was literally the same) Other than that, I spent most of my time on my laptop doing whatever I could to distract myself from my current situation out of habit. I'd draw digitally, but I struggled to motivate myself to do anything useful with it.

For a long time I relied on Youtube and social media as an escape and a distraction from my problems. Frequently venting to friends online. Paragraph after paragraph. Driving them crazy. Even driving people away. I just didn't know what to do because I felt so helpless. I even became active in the local metaphysical community. I took classes and became a certified psychic (not kidding). I met and attended classes with a paranormal psychologist. And I hung out with a wizard. (RIP)

Needless to say, I think metaphysics and spirituality are bunk at this point. I only see value in maybe paranormal psychology, because at the end of the day, it is literally all in our heads, even if our heads are literally a window into another world sometimes (even if said other world is just dreams and imagination). Taking a huge step back from my interest in the paranormal genuinely helped me heal and become better about handling myself, where I was no longer letting illusory entities harass me in my sleep.

I remember sitting in bed that fateful night and just saying in my head to myself, "This is all in my head and I am the one in control". Then I never got attacked again. Something I didn't mention throughout this whole spiel was that I had an imaginary friend and I frequently imagined myself doing the dirty with said imaginary friend (who is also a character of mine). The "attacks" were simply an escalation of all the kinky shit in my head and all the bullshit alien conspiracies I had been immersing myself in. I had let myself get to a point where I genuinely believed that something else was controlling me outside of myself. Very not mentally healthy if you ask me.

Near the end I remember having to make sure my bedroom door and closet doors were closed, and to cover my eyes and ears with something just to prevent them from playing tricks on me while I slept.

Anyways, lucid dreams, daydreams, OBEs, and sleep paralysis had become normalized to me at a young age. I frequently dreamed about flying and imagining characters in my head. It genuinely became an escape and coping mechanism for me, especially with the creation of an imaginary friend as a teenager because I struggled to make real meaningful friends. Changing schools several times didn't help that of course. I still experience these things and still enjoy them but don't take them as seriously anymore, but they're still fun, even addicting at times. I feel like the human mind is an endlessly deep pool that continues to amaze me at times.

As for my ex boyfriend, god.. It was like dating Murdoc irl, but somehow worse, and sadder. I wanted that Stockholm Syndrome abusive boyfriend relationship sooo badly. Like I felt I needed to be punished for being such an outcast. He Almost killed me. Aside from the few bicycle accidents on the way to work, I think what he did will leave me limping and struggling to walk for the rest of my life.

Also fuck the creep I met at my last job. Holy shit, now that guy was Literally insane. I genuinely hope his kid will be okay. (why the fuck does he have a child holy shit)

Lastly, I am doing better. At least I think I am. It's hard to tell. I'm just happy to be drawing again and enjoying it. After all the BS I went through over the past few years, I actually got pretty rusty so a lot of what I'm drawing might get dumped on my art blog, but in the meantime, I'm just happy I'm posting art and people are enjoying it as much as I do. I haven't felt this stable about my art in a long time. Getting out of that apartment and away from the city and all of those negative memories weighing me down was a huge step in the right direction.

If you read all of this for whatever reason, good for you. Have a gold star. Lemme know if you would read my biography. I have plenty more fucked up stories where these came from, and this is just incoherent rambling that skips most of the awful details.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ (ραrк sєσทgнωα) rατє∂

ραiriทg: αℓiєท! ραrк sєσทgнωα (ατєєʑ)× нυмαท! rєα∂єr (ƒємαℓє)

gєทrє: αทgsτ, ƒℓυƒƒ, sмυτ, ∂ysτσρiαท/ sci-ƒi/ ƒαทταsy αυ

sυммαry: ωнєท τнєy cαмє αท∂ iทvα∂є∂ τнєir ρℓαทєτ, нυмαทiτy ∂єscєท∂є∂ iทτσ cнασs αท∂ iทsαทiτy, нυทτiทg τнєм ∂σωท αท∂ vσωiทg τσ rєταкє τнєir нσмє. нσωєvєr, y/ท ∂σєsท'τ вєℓiєvє τнєy αrє ∂αทgєrσυs, ทστ αƒτєr sєєiทg σทє υρ cℓσsє αท∂ ρєrsσทαℓ.

ωσr∂ cσυทτ: 5к+

ωαrทiทgs: ∂ysτσρiαท sσciєτy, viσℓєทcє, αℓℓυsiσทs τσ ∂єατн, мαss ∂єsτrυcτiσท, єxτrατєrrєsτriαℓ вєiทgs, sℓigнτ нyρทστisм, кiทєτic ρσωєrs, sυρєrทατυrαℓ scєทєs, sєxυαℓ scєทєs iทcℓυ∂iทg вriєƒ вrєαsτ ρℓαy, ƒiทgєriทg, αท∂ υทρrστєcτє∂ sσƒτ, vαทiℓℓα iทτєrcσυrsє (αℓωαys υsє ρrστєcτiσท єvєท iƒ yσυ'rє ƒυcкiทg αท є.τ).

iทsρirατiσท: є.τ вy кατy ρєrry

ταgℓisτ: @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @brie02 @a-soft-hornytiny @deja-vux @rvse-miingi @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki

✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧

The world forever remembered the day when the sun suddenly went dark when it wasn't even close to being evening yet. The darkness that shrouded the city made them anxious, which then turned to fear when shining beams of light suddenly passed through the sky and fell onto various parts of the earth. At first they thought they were shooting stars or even asteroids that were there to destroy the planet. But alas, masses of rock from space don't have a perfectly oval shape and neither do they have blinking lights covering most of the base. And they certainly don't have strange beings coming out of them. When humanity saw the otherworldly creatures, they immediately went into panic, running for their lives, not wanting to find out or not if they were intelligent, friendly or were cold blooded killers. They simply shut themselves away, causing chaos amongst their land and hurting each other more than anything else.

Y/N definitely remembered that day but for different reasons. At the time, she was in the outskirts of the city, perched on top of a tree as she usually did to escape the bustling city life she was used to. Half daydreaming and half asleep, her leg swung idly as the warmth of the sun casted down on her face. She was jolted fully awake when something like thunder resonated from the heavens, her eyes immediately finding her surroundings to be pitch black. She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust her sight. A colossal spaceship landed near where she was, causing the earth to shake and she let out a piercing scream when she tumbled down from the tree, her knee getting scraped in the fall.

She let out a pained groan as she tried to get back up, but her legs gave out from how badly she was hurting. Looking up, her eyes went wide when a door opened from the ship, cold smoke blasting out and some of it reaching where she was, making her cough softly. She held her breath when several figures started pouring out of the ship, all of them scattering towards different directions. They all donned the same white uniform, their faces covered by a gaiter styled face covering in the same color. When one of them started nearing where she was, her feet scrambled to get up and hide. Only managing to take two steps before she tripped once more, the extraterrestrial turned his head in the direction of the sound and proceeded to go investigate.

Realizing that she had been caught, Y/N gripped onto the trunk of the tree, nails scraping so harshly that she felt blood trickling down. Finally able to stand upright, she turned once more to run but was stopped when two hands slammed against the tree, trapping her in place. The poor girl trembled in fear as two cold eyes looked straight at her. Scanning her body, the being's eyes took in her damaged knee, blood pouring out as some of the skin and tissue was badly torn off. Getting down on one knee, the being took off one its gloves that covered its hand before reaching out to press against her wound. Y/N flinched when they made contact with her scrape and nearly kicked them away but when a purple light emanated from their hand she stood still to see what would happen. When the otherworldly creature pulled its hand away, she was in shock when she saw that her knee was completely healed, not a scratch as if nothing had happened, as if she didn't suffer a nasty fall.

"How...how did you..?" She whipped her head towards the person or non-person in front of her, had gotten up and was slowly creeping their body closer to hers.

The being murmured out some words in a language she did not recognize, and she knew it wasn't just caused by the covering around their face. She gasped sharply when they suddenly pressed her back onto the tree, hands firmly keeping her in place. Once establishing that she would not run away anytime soon, the extraterrestrial lifted one hand up and pulled its covering off. Y/N was speechless as she gazed up into the most beautiful and perfect face she had ever seen. The being's face seemed to be perfectly sculpted to perfection by gods themselves. Blade straight nose, chiseled jawline and sharp angled eyes perfectly complimented each other and distinguished them as someone not from her world.

Before she could even comprehend what they were doing, she felt their hands cup her cheeks as they pressed their pink and soft lips against her own. When she tried to pull away, the creature only clung her tighter to them, their kiss becoming more forceful, tongue dipping inside her mouth which had her moaning. It seemed the extraterrestrial noticed the effect they were having on her since she could feel them smirking against her lips, and indeed they were still smirking when they pulled away and looked back at her. They curiously studied her face, as if they were trying to figure out something.

"Y/N? Is it?"

She was startled when she heard them say something she understood and even more so that they knew her name.

"You actually....speak my language?" She asked them.

The extraterrestrial chuckled softly.

"I do now."

✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧

8 months had passed ever since the aliens first invaded the world, and things only went from bad to worse. The government fell in the hands of civilians who decided to take control after they failed in not only giving them answers but in failing to drive the intruders away. Without a proper leader to govern them, the people just ran rampant through the streets, criminal activity and violence escalating each day that passed. The only real form of leadership or organization that still was existed was the Resistance force, a group of individuals who had gathered together to fight off all the aliens, which always resulted in unnecessary attacks and bloodshed. And unfortunately for Y/N, her own father was one of the ones leading that force.

She shook her head everytime she watched him and all the other people march off in search of extraterrestrials, hoping to demolish them once and for all. Every time they went out, very few returned, but that wasn't the part that worried her.

What worried her was imagining if her friend was one of the few extraterrestrials that had been taken down, because as she'd learn, they were definitely capable of being killed. She let out a sigh and closed the blinds of the kitchen window to continue her task of washing dishes. It seemed that was her life from now on, attending to the house while her dad was away fighting off beings who were actually harmless as she soon learned. But of course, she could never say anything about it, one because no one would believe her given how brainwashed and unreceptive they were and two, which was the most important one, she had promised her otherworldly friend not to spill anything about the mission they were currently carrying out and she intended to keep that promise.

"Aliens! They're here!"

Hearing the frantic commotion outside that was followed by a loud blaring of sirens and shotguns being fired, Y/N ducked and stayed away from any windows or any glass. She slowly crawled her way out the door and went outside, as stupid as it was but whenever there was an attack such as these ones, she always went out to ensure no child was wandering the streets and accidentally got caught in the action. She didn't care that she was risking her own life in doing so.

She carefully ran through alleys, taking cover behind walls or dropping to the ground when she heard shots being fired. It had become a lot easier for her now than it was in the beginning. Peeking her head out, she was relieved to see that most of the civilians had already cleared themselves out. But her relieve was short lived when she saw a white uniformed figure fall in the middle of the street, their hand clutching their left side which was stained blue, clear indication they were seriously wounded. Even with their face covered, she recognized their eyes right away.

"Seonghwa." She whispered softly, panic rising in her when she heard more shots being fired in his direction.

Looking at the other side, her face paled when she saw that it was none other than her own dad who was pursuing him, gun in his hand as he reloaded bullets in them. She looked back towards Seonghwa, who was trying to desperately heal himself faster, but was running out of time. With her dad getting closer and aiming his gun right at him, Y/N didn't even think and bolted out of her hiding place, heading straight towards her father.

"Dad don't!" She exclaimed as she tipped over his gun, causing him to shoot instead towards the opposite direction. Both of them hit the pavement with the strength she used to make sure he didn't hurt her friend.

"Y/N! Get off me!" Her father grunted as he shoved her off his body. Grabbing a hold of his gun once more, he made way to aim once more at his enemy but unfortunately he was too late. When he looked back, he was surrounded by two other extraterrestrials, one of them holding a small device that he threw onto the ground which helped them teleport out of there instantly, leaving behind nothing but a faint cloud of smoke.

Livid at having his prey taken away from his hands, he turned his attention back to his daughter who was barely standing up. When she lifted her head up, she was instantly struck back to the floor as the brute force of her father's fist against her face knocked her down.

"You stupid bitch! You let them get away!"

Each kick laid against her stomach was felt not only by her but by the extraterrestrial being that had connected his mind with hers. From miles away, inside one of the space crafts, he cried out in pain and clutched his abdomen as he felt each and every one of the violent acts laid on her body. With raging and glowing eyes, he pulled off all the wires and needles connected to his body and stormed out of the room, ignoring the protests coming out of the medical team that was tending to his wounds.

"Seonghwa! Stop! You're not healed yet!" One of his comrades tried to stop him.

"I don't care Hongjoong! Y/N is in trouble and I need to save her!" He tried to pry off the other male's fingers off him.

"You can't go! It's too risky. You'll get caught." He tried to reason with Seonghwa.

"If I don't go she could die! She saved me and now I must go save her!"

Having left with no other choice, Hongjoong used his supernatural strength to pin his friend to the wall, keeping him locked in there with no way to escape.

"Yes you must, but now is not the time! You're hurt, if you go now you'll only get yourself killed and then what will happen to her?"

Seonghwa's lip quivered in rage and hurt. He was unable to speak let alone move. He looked down at the floor and wept softly, his mind filled with images of her bruised and bloodied body in agony and pain after the beating she just endured. He knew in such a state, he couldn't even contact her telepathically.

"There's only a few more days until we have to leave back to the home planet. Our mission will be completed and if you still want..... you can take her back with you."

Seonghwa whipped his head up at Hongjoong's words, but before he could get his hopes up, Hongjoong raised a hand.

"Only if she wants to. You can't force, hypnotize nor abduct her. Am I clear?"

Seonghwa immediately nodded.

"Yes Hongjoong."

✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧

Y/N laid in her bed, body still sore even though 2 days had already passed since that awful day. Her sides would ache if she put too much strain on them, but at least she was finally able to walk again. What she really wanted to know was how Seonghwa was doing. Was he all right? Was he too injured? Did he make it? Or did he..?

She pulled her blanket over her face to keep herself from thinking such things. She only wished he'd talk to her like he usually did at night. It was funny considering the first time she heard his voice in her head she was beyond freaked out, but now she had grown accustomed to it, sometimes even scolding him for bugging her so much.

"Are you awake?"

She couldn't keep the smile of her face as she finally heard his voice after so long. But wanting to play it cool, she forced a huff out of her mouth.

"I am now no thanks to you weirdo." She responded, her voice sounding grumpy and making Seonghwa chuckle.

"You know I'm not that knowledgeable with your language yet, so I'm not sure what that word means, but I'm deducing it's not a compliment." He asserted.

"How can you still not know what some words mean? Didn't you suck the language out of me when you slipped your tongue inside my mouth months ago? Wasn't that enough?" She chastised him, yet her cheeks flushed pink as she recalled the first time they met and he greeted her with a kiss, which she ended up finding out was a method his kind employed to be able to understand and talk to beings that spoke differently from them.

"We only grasp the basics, our abilities only stretch so far." He calmly explained.

Y/N sat up and tugged at different ends of her blanket.

"Does that mean you've gone around on other planets kissing other people?" She questioned him, her voice tinted with a hint of jealousy at the thought of Seonghwa kissing someone else.

"I may have kissed other kinds, but I can assure you that you're the only one I've used tongue with." He smirked to himself as he read her thoughts.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" She felt bitter knowing he had indeed gone around kissing other people.

"Well no... but that little action helped create the mind link with you. Lip to lip contact with another creature helps us communicate with them, adding tongue is a way to communicate and connect telepathically with the individual. Hence why I have been talking to you and vice versa without having to utter a single word. That and I can see what's going on in that tiny head of yours." He finished with a suspicious snort that unsettled her.

"Does that mean... you've been reading my thoughts all these months?" She fidgeted nervously.

"Some, not all. Although I've accidentally stumbled upon some that are rather..... interesting if you ask me."

Y/N whined as she slumped her face into her pillow and let out a high pitched scream. She felt so embarrased knowing he probably knew some of the explicit thoughts she's had at times that involved him.

"Do me a favor and take one of your laser guns and just vaporize me out of this world." She begged him.

"I'm afraid protocol doesn't allow me to vaporize any individuals without proper cause. So you're stuck with knowing that I know that you want me to-"

"Ok stop! Please don't finish that sentence and pretend like what you saw in my head wasn't real." She sighed.

"As you wish."

Seonghwa stayed quiet for a while, biting his lower lip as he pondered about how to approach his next subject. He knew it was now or never.

"Hey Y/N?" He asked softly.

"Yeah?" She responded.

"Can you..... do you think you could meet me in the place we first met?"

Y/N looked out her window and saw that it was past the curfew established by the Resistance, no doubt most of them standing guard at every street and corner, making sure everyone stayed indoors while keeping watch.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get out without being caught."

"I thought just as much."

Before she knew it, Seonghwa appeared right in front of her bed, making her shriek as she pulled her blanket to cover body up. She was about to ask him what was going on, but he was faster as he took hold of her wrist before transporting them both in the outskirts of the city in the blink of an eye. Y/N cowered and shivered when she felt the night breeze blow, her arms wrapping around herself since she had gone to bed wearing nothing but black panties and a flimsy white tank top that left little to the imagination for anyone who saw her chest. And seeing the extraterrestrial looking intently at her, she knew he was taking in her state of near undress.

"Please tell me you don't have laser vision that let's you see under my clothes." She squinted at him.

"Some of my kind do posses that ability, but I'm not one of them....." Stepping closer to her, he tilted her chin up and grinned smugly.

"Unfortunately."

"Why you little perv-" She was cut off mid sentence when Seonghwa inexplicably wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a tight embrace.

"You're cold, let me warm you up."

She indeed started to feel heat being produced from his body which started to flow into her own. It felt so nice, not only having him act as a personal heater but to just have him hold her after having to go through endless shit day after day. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on his shoulder, slowly drifting off to sleep right then and there. One of Seonghwa's hands was busying itself by softly brushing her hair, being careful not to accidentally pull any out. He stayed like that for a few minutes before finally blurting out:

"The mission is finished. We'll be leaving at dawn tomorrow."

Y/N felt her heart sink when she heard him say that.

"So....bringing me here was so you could say goodbye?" She lifted her head off his shoulders and stared at the ground with a blank expression.

"Well it depends..."

Y/N raised an eyebrow when he paused.

"Depends on what?" She urged him to finish.

"If you wanna leave this place and come with me." He offered, his eyes growing rounder as he hoped she'd say yes.

Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

"Are you being serious right now or is this some kind of alien joke?"

Seonghwa nodded in earnest.

"Deadly serious. I want you to come to my home with me. I know.... I hope you'll like it. It's not that different from your planet, although you know the technology is more advanced and flying cars and what not..."

When he saw that she wasn't budging, Seonghwa gulped nervously.

"But the location I live in is a more... tropical one. The water is sparkling blue, the glittering sand is warm to the touch, and the weather is always cool and refreshing. Wouldn't you like to live in a place like that with me?" He spoke those last two words out softly but he knew she definitely heard them.

He could hear and see her thoughts, debating whether or not it would be wise to leave with him or not. She looked behind her towards the city she lived in, almost in complete ruin with possibly no hope of redemption.

"There's nothing left for me here, is there?" She asked to herself rather than to him.

When she looked back at him, there was still a hint of doubt in her mind. Clasping his hands on her head, Seonghwa's thumbs rubbed circles on her temples as his orbs started turning a light yellow color.

"Please come with me. Stay with me and live with me." He spoke out softly, his voice having a light melodic tune to it.

Y/N felt herself getting immensely drawn to him, her thoughts beginning to fill up with images of staying by his side. It was as if she was getting pulled to him against her will.

"Wait..... Are you using hypnosis on me?!" She exclaimed in anger, pushing him away when she realized what was going on.

"It was worth a try." He admitted in defeat, head hung low in shame.

"Since you failed miserably..... I'll spare you the humiliation and accept to go with you."

Seonghwa widened his eyes when he heard her.

"Wait, for real?"

Y/N responded by placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't make me regret my decision though or I'll steal your laser gun and vaporize you." She warned him.

Lacing his fingers with hers, Seonghwa nudged her to follow him.

"I promise you won't."

✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the bed she was currently in, alternating between wrapping herself with the blanket and kicking it off a second later. She was still in the middle of her fight with the covers that she failed to notice the door opened and her current roommate walk into their small compartment. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her struggle with an amusing smirk.

"Having fun there?" He broke her out of her trance.

"I can't sleep, I feel like I'm developing claustrophobia from mostly staying inside these 4 walls, and I'm still suffering from motion sickness." She grumbled, 1 week and she had still not adjusted to being inside an intergalactic spacecraft with no one but extraterrestrial beings to keep her company.

"Anything else you'd like to add?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow.

Y/N pouted her lips and stared up at him with puppy dog eyes.

"I'm lonely and want company?"

Unable to resist, Seonghwa faked an exhausted sigh as he began taking off his jacket.

"I'm off my piloting duties anyway, might as well get some rest before my next shift."

Finally happy at having someone by her side, Y/N made some space on the bed for Seonghwa to fit in, although she wondered if it would be big enough for the both of them since it was a rather compacted area. When she looked back at Seonghwa, she nearly wheezed when she saw him sliding right next to her completely bare. Catching her staring, Seonghwa continued on as if it was the most normal thing in the universe.

"What? Don't you humans go to sleep the same way we do?"

Y/N covered her red cheeks and turned her face away from him.

"N-no....we wear clothes when sleeping." She explained, body heating up from embarrassment. Seonghwa replied with a slight gruff.

"Seems impractical."

Wrapping one arm around her body, Seonghwa pulled Y/N down on the bed and held her close to him, his breath fanning against the nape of her neck.

"Try to rest." He suggested.

Y/N wondered how on earth was she supposed to rest knowing the extraterrestrial being was pressing his bare chest against her back? She tried hard not to move in fear of accidentally brushing along his cock.

"Wait, do aliens have dicks? I didn't really get a good look between his legs. I just saw abs and looked away."

Her thoughts began spiraling deeper and deeper into not so pure territory. She began wondering about Seonghwa's anatomy. Do his kind even have reproductive organs? Do they even have sex? What if he could produce tentacles out of his body that would suction onto parts of her body like some of the kinky hentai she watched a long time ago? That thought aroused her more than it should. How would it feel to have Seonghwa's tentacles latch onto her nipples and suckle them as another one slithered inside her core and probe around until it made a mess of her? She clenched her thighs inadvertently as her mind started to produce more and more dangerous scenes.

She was startled when she heard the alien behind her laugh softly.

"I hate to interrupt your sexual fantasy foolish human girl, but my kind do not possess the ability to produce the slimy limbs that you are imagining."

She had completely forgotten that their minds were still linked and if he wanted to, he could still read her mind. She buried her face deeper in the pillow, wanting to cry out in shame.

"I do apologize for that inconvenience, I'm afraid the closest you can get is my hands around you."

Y/N half gasped half moaned when she felt one of Seonghwa's large hands snake inside her sweater and cup her breast. His thumb tweaked at her nipple, giving it experimental tugs and pinches until finally settling for simply rubbing them since it seemed to produce more effects on her body. He listened intently to the way her breath hitched with every brush of his thumb and squeeze of her soft skin, feeling her body start to get warmer just for him.

"Isn't this what you wanted? I remember you often fantasized about having my hands all over you." He recalled all those times where he refused to go to sleep because he was too busy prying into her erotic thoughts that included him.

"Y-yes..." She breathed out.

"Did you only want them here?"

Y/N whined and shook her head.

"No.... want them- want them..." She felt embarrased to say it out loud even if she did have Seonghwa groping her chest, so she hoped he'd read her mind and give her what she wanted. Obviously he got the hint since he moved his hand and slipped it inside her shorts. Pushing her panties aside, Y/N groaned when he dipped two fingers past her slick folds. She was so unbelievably wet that even with the slow movements he was making, they could still faintly hear the squealching sounds that were being produced.

"Right here? This where you want them?" Adding a third finger inside, he drove them deeper inside her body as their pace intensified, the slopping noises becoming louder.

Y/N bit down on the sleeve of her sweater to muffle the moans that were spilling out, afraid of anyone hearing what was going on.

"Don't worry about anyone else, just focus on the way my fingers are invading your most intimate places. Tell me does it feel good? Do you like it?" He asked as his lips kissed across the side of her neck.

"Feels so good- I love it." She sighed blissfully as his fingers continued to swirl around her hole, tips curling so they could graze at her g-spot.

"Want to feel something even better?"

Y/N hummed in affirmation and allowed Seonghwa to move her onto her back. He surprised her when all he needed to do was tap twice against her clothes and they immediately vanished from her body, leaving her completely naked under him.

"How long have you been waiting to do that?" She eyed him suspiciously when his lips curled upwards in a cheeky grin.

"Far too long."

Cupping her cheeks, Seonghwa kissed her, almost like the first time when he came to her home, but this time the kiss was more passionate and full of raw emotions. He took his time and didn't slip his tongue inside her mouth, instead he wanted to savor how soft and plump her lips felt against his own, pulling away every few minutes only to catch his breath before diving back in to mold his mouth over hers. They were so lost in their heated kissing and tangled bodies, that they forgot they were both in their most intimate state until Seonghwa's member brushed along her slippery folds.

"Oh god-." Y/N stammered as her hips grinded up to feel more of Seonghwa, who had a proud smirk on his face.

"Are you going to be ok with an extraterrestrial being breeding you with his cock?"

Y/N grimaced slightly at his choice of words.

"Is that what you guys call it?"

"Well what do you guys call it?" He questioned.

"We like to call it fucking." She giggled.

Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows as his hands lifted her legs up to wrap them around his waist.

"I don't like it, sounds too impersonal and distant."

The cry coming out of Y/N's throat cracked and only half sounded when Seonghwa stuffed her full of his cock, his size stretching her out in a delicious sting.

"I prefer to get as close as possible."

Taking hold of her hands, he placed them on top of his shoulders before proceeding to rock his hips against hers. Y/N clung onto him as if her life depended on it. She closed her eyes and let her body succumb to his. Every touch from him was magnetizing, and she completely melted when his lips sought hers once more, a cosmic sensation pouring into her. Her nails dug onto the flesh of his back whilst her legs tangled themselves tighter around his waist, wanting to keep him near her as she started to feel a knot unraveling at the pit of her stomach, similar to the ones she'd feel all those nights she daydreamed about having him close to her. Only this time the feeling was more electrifying and intense, almost as if it was magic. Her eyes shut even tighter as the knot came loose and her lips began spilling out chants of Seonghwa's name as her juices flowed out of her body and coated his member that was still sliding deep inside her, not stopping so it could further heightened the sensation she was going through.

Feeling her release herself all over him, it was only a few moments later that Seonghwa himself vibrated against her body and filled her core with his own cum. His body started to faintly glow due to the rush he just felt at being so intimately connected with another person, the pulse in his heart beating so rapidly he thought it would burst any minute. Stroking her hair in a gentle manner, he pressed his forehead against hers, panting softly as he layed his body on top of hers, careful not to put too much of his weight on her.

"Never in my life did I ever believe that on one of our scouting missions would I meet someone like you."

Pulling back so he could look at her beautiful face, Seonghwa smiled with adoration and fondness at his loving partner

"Yet here I am, going back home with the brightest star in the universe."

✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧✧*:.｡..｡.:*✧

[avengers-x-reader]

admittance

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

description: bucky has been having nightmares recently. all you want to do is help him, but it’s hard when he denies the fact that he’s having these nightmares in the first place. 

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief language, mentions of nightmares & violence, some angst i guess??

a/n: this is set before the events of TFATWS - bucky is speaking to a therapist, but the events with the flag smashers and all that jazz have not yet occurred. 

Does he really think I don’t know what he’s doing? you think to yourself as you make your way through the apartment you shared with Bucky. The clock on the oven shows a bright green “3:28am,” and you sigh with the realization of how little sleep you’d been getting recently. You know that Bucky’s been getting even less sleep, though, and the thought makes your heart clench in pity. 

Well, maybe pity isn’t the right word. Pity gives a connotation of weakness and sorrow on behalf of the weak. You knew for a fact that Bucky Barnes was not weak. After everything he’s gone through in his life, and after everything he’s done to try and make amends with the people he’s hurt, you considered him to be the strongest person you’ve ever met. However, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness and compassion over your boyfriend’s struggle to sleep as he forced himself to come face-to-face with the acts of violence he’d committed in his past. 

For the past few weeks, Bucky had been transitioning to sleeping on the living room floor whenever he was kept awake due to nightmares. He never flat-out admitted that nightmares were the cause of his sleepless nights, but after putting together the puzzle pieces of his sweat-soaked sheets, his tossing and turning, and his reluctance to talk about why he’d been sneaking out of your room most nights, you were able to figure it out for yourself. 

You pass the island in the kitchen and smile sadly when you see Bucky sleeping, curled up on floor just as you’d suspected he’d be. At least he’s getting some sleep, you think, but this relief is short-lived and it disappears when he begins to thrash around. 

“Honey?” you call out softly, not wanting to startle him awake. You know that Bucky is a bit disoriented when he first wakes up, especially after he’s had a nightmare, and you don’t want to make his transition to the real world any more jarring than it had to be for him. 

Your soft voice did nothing to wake him up or stop his thrashing, so you bend down to his level and try again. “Bucky, babe, please wake up.”

Your hand resting gently on his shoulder is what eventually does the trick. His eyes open harshly, and he sits up as he attempts to gasp for breath. 

“There you are,” you whisper with a smile, but tears start to build in your eyes as you think of how much pain Bucky must be in. He’s still trying to catch his breath as he looks frantically around the room before settling his gaze on you. 

“I’m sorry, doll,” he whispers, rubbing his eyes. “Did I wake you?”

You choose your words carefully. He didn’t know that you knew about his nightmares, and you didn’t want to ask him about them if he wasn’t ready to talk about them. “Not at all. I got thirsty and came out for a drink, and wanted to know what you were doing on the floor all by yourself.” 

Bucky gives a short, unamused laugh and shakes his head before replying, “I just couldn’t sleep.” 

“Got it,” you nod. Your hand has been rubbing slow circles on his back in an attempt to slow down his breathing, and slowly but surely, his breaths have been calming down as you sat next to each other. “You’ve been sleeping out here a lot recently,” you continue softly. 

“Well what do you want me to do about that?” he asks louder than you’d been talking before. He pushes himself to his feet and begins pacing the room. “I come out here so that I don’t wake you up and you’re mad. If I stayed in our room and kept you awake with me, I’m sure you’d be mad then, too. So what would you like for me to do?”

You didn’t reply for a good minute or so. You stare at him for a while, trying to figure out where this sudden outburst was coming from. You didn’t take it personally, but you still didn’t appreciate him lashing out on you when you were just trying to understand what was going on in his head. Finally, you reply, “I just want to be there for you.” This causes Bucky to stop his pacing and stare at you, but you continue, “I know you’ve been having nightmares, and I know you’re trying to keep me in the dark about them, but I don’t know why.”

“I-I’m not-” Bucky tries to interrupt, but you cut him off. “Yes, you are. I can tell. Now you don’t have to talk to me about them if you don’t want to, and you don’t even have to come back to our room to sleep at night if being with me is causing more of an issue, but don’t sit here and lie to my face about something as obvious as this. It’s insulting.” 

You recognize that you’re being a bit harsh, but you wanted to get through to Bucky that you know about his nightmares, and you want to help him through them as much as you could - however you could. 

Bucky walks towards where you’re still sitting on the floor and holds his hands out as an invitation to help you stand. You accept, grunting a bit as you’re pulled swiftly to your feet. He says nothing as he keeps your hand in his and leads the two of you back to the bedroom. Your confusion must be showing on your face, because he looks back at you and says softly, “It’s not you that’s the issue.” 

“Then what is?” you ask, still allowing Bucky to lead you to the bed. The two of you lay down under the covers as you await his response. “James,” you continue with a just-as-quiet, but sterner tone of voice. 

Bucky bites his lip and looks away with a sad smile. “It’s me,” he says simply. “I’m the issue,” he carries on before you can ask any questions. 

“That’s the biggest pile of bull shit I’ve heard in my entire life,” you scoff, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend’s body. He usually feels so much bigger than you, but in this moment, he may as well be half your size. He folds in on himself, and you can tell from the way his shoulders are shaking that he’s crying. 

“I’m trying to make amends,” he begins to explain through his tears. “I’m trying to act better, do better, be a better person, but it’s so hard when I’m reminded over and over again about how fucked up I used to be.” 

“You’re doing your best,” you try to comfort him, but this seems to just make things worse as he turns away from you and shakes his head. 

“Then I must be a pretty terrible person,” Bucky says dryly, “because apparently even my best isn’t good enough.”

Your heart sinks. Did someone tell him he wasn’t good enough? You know he’s been working with Dr. Raynor on making amends...she’s always seemed a bit harsh, from what Bucky’s told you about her. Did she say something about him not trying hard enough?

“Who told you that?” you finally ask. 

“Nobody had to tell me. I just know,” he replies, keeping his back turned away from you. 

You consider how you should respond for a few minutes. You don’t want to let him sit in this self-deprecating mindset, but you also know that you won’t be able to convince him otherwise when he’s so convinced already that he’s not doing enough to make amends. Finally, you say, “Bucky, look at me.”

He makes no effort to turn around and face you, so you say, “James Buchanan Barnes, turn your handsome face around and look at me.” He eventually complies and his lips are turned slightly upward into a smile, but his eyes are still glossy. “You can’t fix everything all at once,” you go on to say. “I know you want to be able to, and I know it’s hard knowing how many amends you need to make and the mental energy it takes to make these amends, but you have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“But if I don’t put this pressure on myself, I may never get it all done,” Bucky argues, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them closed for a few moments. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

Your heart clenches, and you sigh heavily. “You’re right,” you admit. “I don’t know what it’s like. But that’s why I want you to talk to me about how you’re feeling, and admit when you need help, because otherwise I’m in the dark here. And you know I’m scared of the dark,” you smile sadly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, but when he finally does, it says it with the clearest tone you’ve heard from him all night. “I love you so much.”

Aaaaand here come the waterworks, you think to yourself. “Oh honey, I love you too,” you reply, holding him tightly so that he couldn’t see the way tears had immediately sprung into your eyes. “I just want to help. I’m sorry if I’m being pushy or invasive, I just don’t want you suffering alone with these nightmares and this pressure of being ‘good enough’.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “You’re not being invasive...you’re being a good girlfriend and a good person. That’s part of what I love about you so much - your selflessness and your intense need to just...help people.”

You nod into his chest, hoping your tears weren’t dampening his bare skin. “Just let me know how I can help you. I’ll do anything.”

Bucky thinks on this for a moment before saying, “You’re right, ya’ know...about the nightmares. That’s what’s been keeping me awake these past few weeks...and I know that you know you’re right, I just feel like I have to admit it to you so that I can try and move on from them myself.” 

You pull away from his chest, not caring anymore if he could see you crying. He knows you well enough at this point to probably assume you were crying, anyways. “Whatever you need to admit out loud...whatever you need to talk about. I’m here,” you assert with a strong voice. “I’m here,�� you repeat quieter, moving your hand up to cup his cheek. 

“You’re here,” Bucky whispers with a smile, nuzzling into your palm. His eyes flutter shut, and you hope he’s attempting to get some more sleep. 

You aren’t naive enough to think that you can get rid of Bucky’s nightmares, but you and him both know that you’ll be there to talk them through with him when they occur next time - whenever that may be.  

thank you for reading - i hope you enjoyed!! requests are open and welcome :)

[cartierbin]

hello! can i request 4+24 with jisung? ❤️

『 4. “you asked for it now take it” + 24. “count to ten for me”

pairing — jisung x reader

genre — smut + jisung eating pussy for pornhub

word count — 1.324k 』

smut under the cut !

for the most part, jisung liked to keep things private between the two of you. the sexual things at least. he never told a soul about the sinful things you guys did behind closed doors just because he truly believed what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom. plus, he’d rather not expose you for the nasty slut you really were to him—no— that was a part of you he kept for himself.

but you once you saw an ad go around on your favorite porn site, you had other plans. they were offering a stipend for their new challenge. $3000 for whoever sent in the best pussy eating video. and with the way jisung ate you, you knew this would an easy win. you begged him for days on end, bribing him by naming a list of things the both of you could do with the money. but jisung liked to be private with things and he didn’t know if he’d win anyway, since some people were actually pornstars for a living.

after getting your fifth no from jisung you finally gave up asking. it was a real loss since you knew he had the potential to win. but you weren’t going to force him to do something that he didn’t want to do. well, you thought he didn’t want to do. his mind quickly changed when he woke up in the middle of the night from a wet dream with an aching boner that could cut glass. his chest heaved and he stared at the ceiling with the dirtiest of thoughts flooding his mind. and with you next to him wearing nothing but panties and a tank top, it only made it worse. he needed something. he remembered the challenge and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting you. he never thought he’d give in but he needed his fix.

he set his phone camera up against the lamp on the nightstand beside you, angling it at the bed so he could be seen. luckily it was angled perfectly at your legs and that was all the focus he needed. he breathed prior to shifting the blankets off your legs and clutching your thighs, spreading your legs wide pulling you down closer to his face. he pulled the middle part of your panties so far to the side he practically ripped the seams that held them in place. but he didn’t care. he laid his warm tongue flat against your pussy, swiping it between your slit coating it with nothing but his saliva. he felt himself get harder if that was even possible, just sitting there tasting you.

he roped his arms around your thighs and closed his eyes, circling his tongue over the bud beneath your hood and inched it into his mouth bit by bit, sucking it ever so softly. pleasure shot up the length of your spine and you reach down to snake your fingers in his hair, thinking you were in a wet dream of some sort. your soft muffled moans spurred him onwards and he flicked his tongue repeatedly, up and down the hood. he enjoyed this. he enjoyed how soft and wet you were becoming on his tongue. he enjoyed your whines and he enjoyed how quiet your bedroom was, meaning that nothing else could be heard, only the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy.

he starts to grip your waist and your eyes shot open realizing that the dream you thought you were having wasn’t so vivid and that it was jisung really eating you. you looked below at the subtle movement of his head, sucking your clit between his lips before releasing it with saliva to follow. you pushed your pussy up into his mouth and created a makeshift ponytail out of the top of his hair. you could already feel yourself throbbing on his tongue and to make things worse, you were barely awake. you squeeze your eyes together tight as you felt his tongue giving teasing cat licks to your glistening folds. “jisung fuckk you couldn’t have waited?”.

he spit on two of his fingers and shoved them deep inside your waiting hole and you gripped the bedsheets at the sudden feeling. “no. you asked for this shit. now take it”. you half lidded your eyes to the ceiling chanting his name underneath your breath. the wet sounds of his fingers sinking in and out of your pussy resounded against the bedroom walls. he moaned while he ate you, talking every time he finishing sucking your pulsating clit. “your pussy tastes so fucking good right now baby”. he looked down to watch how much slick coated his fingers every time he pulled them out of you. “fuckk do you hear this shit?”. he questions in a daze. every time he spoke you felt slick cascading down your folds. he made sure you made eye contact with him while he shoved his fingers into his mouth just to get another taste of your pussy on his tastebuds. you painfully watched his tongue swirl around his finger tips just before he sucked them, further tantalizing you and making you throb harder in the process.

“oh god put your mouth back on me jisung please”. he smirks, wriggling his tongue through the middle of his fingers creating a spit string with his efforts. “you want my mouth back on you?”. your hips began bucking in need. “yes please”. he grins and teases you a bit longer, enough to where you gasped when he finally wriggled his tongue against your clit again and continued finger fucking you at a rapid pace. your pussy jerked against his mouth becoming eager. A mewl leaves your mouth and you try to clench your weak thighs around Jisung’s head but he holds them open and pins them down to the bed. your vision was becoming blurry and you felt the fiery knot in your gut desperately wanting to unravel. “you’re shaking are you going to cum on my tongue baby?”. damn it the more he talked the wetter you became. you felt your head pounding in need. “please stop talking like that ji”.

“count to ten for me. I bet you’ll be cumming at the end of these ten seconds”. you wished you could count aloud but jisung was finger fucking the breath out of your lungs forcing you to do it all in your head. each time you tried to open your mouth jisung did something new with his tongue which left you emitting nothing but gaspy chuffs of breath. you pushed down on his face just about to shout out the number one but you were already cumming, your fluids covering his lips and the area around his mouth. you were still spasming when jisung finally stopped recording, placing his phone on your billowing chest.

“I hope I ate your pussy good enough to win”.

[lupically]

#FEF5F1 | DILUC RAGNVINDR.

genre | fluff

word count | 1825

warning | none

note | i finally wrote something for my top husbando :’)

it came to you as a surprise that diluc, at all, sleeps.

there has always been this fantasy version of him in your head, a fantasy that lacked the great ideals and bright adventures most fantasy novels you have read consisted of. in contrast, your fantasy of him was insulting and otherworldly at best—someone restricted to the rules, a personality as plain as a dull purple doormat, a total stick in the mud that kills joy at the mere sight of it, an emotionless robot that has no use for human necessity such as the bathing and sleeping.

does diluc even need to consume food? you have literally never seen him eat or drink anything before. has he ever taken off his gloves to pick up a hamburger—oh, archons, you just realized now that you have never seen the skin of his hands before. he always has gloves on! was it to hide something?

"oh, wow," you exclaimed lowly to yourself as you leaned forward to examine the hands of the very annoyed red-haired man before you. your long-term question was finally answered. "fascinating... so you do have hands!"

diluc spared not even a glance toward the limb you were so interestedly staring at. he kept quiet for a moment and peered down at you from his bed, one leg propped up and the other stretched out—a rather awkward position he had no time to get out of after he almost burned you alive for sneaking into his bedroom in the winery.

"what drunk wind blew your incompetent self here?" he asked, ignoring your remarks about his lack of real and human hands. whatever you meant by that? you were always spilling weird things out of your mouth, you might even be worse than venti, he reckoned. 

you glared up at him after hearing his mindless insult. you were only fifty percent sure (which was already a lot in your book!) diluc never actually meant those hurtful words, that they simply fly out of his mouth due to his weird need to make sure everyone around him knew that he leaves no room for unnecessary sentiment. 

being kind blatantly was not his thing, and he has no intention of being applauded for being a decent person. why that was, you couldn't be sure. you had your assumptions, but kaeya turned out far too different than diluc that you weren’t sure if you should put your finger on the assumption. you also didn't dare dive deeper into it because (a) you just weren’t invested enough, and (b) by then, it would be a family business you would hate to indulge yourself with.

"kaeya dared me to take a picture of your sleeping face in exchange for some wine. our good friend, the honorary knight's smaller friend also wanted it as a possible blackmail souvenir," you told him honestly.

diluc immediately murmured something you couldn't quite hear, but he looked more confused than annoyed when he glared down at the mattress of his bed. he grumbled something along the lines of how the roles were definitely reversed. you didn't press further about that.

"if that is what you came here for, your best bet is to leave the way you came," he said after a moment, pointing a cold hand toward his bedroom window. "you're not taking any pictures of me."

you snorted, holding up your kamera and tapping the lenses. “uh, i think i came pretty close to taking a picture of you sleeping, diluc.”

“i had woken up the second you walked through my bedroom door. you could never,” he said.

you hummed under your breath, eyeing him suspiciously. he was probably telling the truth. he barely struggled in surprise when he grabbed your hands in the dark; was it pure luck that he perfectly found where your kamera was on the first try or does diluc secretly has night vision? your guess was as good as the unknown. 

not to mention, he looked normal, just like someone who may be in the know of your intrusion. he appeared grumpy but that was just his normal state. you could barely get him out of a frown even if you pay him, mainly because he wouldn’t need your money, but also because he was stubbornly against smiling, it appeared. 

"you know, i was surprised at first. i didn't know you sleep at all! i always thought you kind of just shut down, or maybe you have stayed awake all your life," you said with a shrug, and when he deadpanned at you, you defensively waved your kamera around. "i'm sorry! i just–you don't strike me as a person who sleeps!"

"so dead, then?" diluc asked calmly, although there was very little calmness in his facial expressions, especially those judgemental eyes of his.

"not dead! just... not really human–" you paused and pressed your lips together, thinking back to what you said to him and realizing that he might have a point. then you turned to him. "you also eat, right?"

“are you leaving or not?” he asked, a hint of flare in his voice that if you looked closely, you may see fire emerging from his body.

being stubborn as ever, and knowing that diluc would never really hurt anybody he knew to be good people, you feigned thoughtfulness for a second. tapping your finger against your chin, you scrunched your nose and shook your head. setting the kamera lumine forcefully had to borrow you between your crossed legs, you flashed him a mischievous grin. 

“no,” you said. “i am getting that picture out of you!”

“like i said,” he said, “you will never.”

“fine! then i guess i will just have to sit here and wait for you to fall asleep on me,” you said, slapping your hand down on his soft mattress. “don’t try to force me out of here! i will make it way worse for you!”

diluc furrowed his brows, wondering if you meant what you said. when his questioning gaze couldn’t get even an ounce of budge from you, he could only sigh in frustration. if you planned to sit on his bed until he doze off, then you would definitely make it worse if he tries to dump you out of his bedroom through whatever means you could.

he may be a skilled swordsman and a vision bearer, but unfortunately, he was not immune to bullshits from the likes of you.

diluc closed his eyes to savor the tiniest bit of sleep he managed to get before he heard your extra loud footsteps creeping around his room. he was supposed to get a good night's sleep, which was something he hasn't had in a while because of all the business schedules and his side vigilante job.

he was supposed to rest tonight, and there came you.

there always comes you.

dilly-dally, unpredictable, the epitomie of 'knights of favonius... always so inefficient,' letting klee out of solitary confinement and causing a ruckus amongst the responsible adults kind of irresponsible, has paid for his wine at least a zero number of time kind of broke, and was just always here to ruin his mood at the tavern every single day. 

most of the time, diluc thought about you in a negative light, much like he did with everyone around him and the entirety of the knights of favonius. but there was a version of you in his head that painted you as somebody different—somebody respectful, somebody worth keeping around...

somebody he likes, perhaps.

after all, joy was never prevalent in his life. it used to be, but that was a past he has long forgotten the details of. even if he wanted to remember them now, he could only remember snippets that wouldn’t guarantee him a good nostalgia. he may just end up feeling worse at the end. the only constant influx of distraction he has now seemed to be either you or venti, and with the godly bard as his other option, he would much rather choose you. 

but it was not because that venti was too hard to confine in. you were just as hard to talk about problems with considering your optimism and fickle attitude. 

what diluc wanted was permanence; a train that never stops, a bottle of wine that continuously refills, dandelions that do not stop flying even after it reaches celestia. and venti was too understanding and abstract to be one. as interesting of a character he may be, venti knew when to leave people alone. or, occasionally, he just cared too little. after all the city of mondstadt didn’t lack a god because he was responsible. 

you, though. diluc could never pinpoint if you were as dense as you appeared to be, or if you did know how to read the room and simply chose to ignore it, but you never leave people alone. you never left him alone; you unknowingly pick a petty one-sided argument with him all the time, you get drunk at the tavern and somehow has never let anybody take you home but him, you barge into his bedroom in the middle of the night because of some stupid dare his brother made you do and you still refuse to leave despite being sleepy.

you give him a way out, whether he likes it or not.

arms crossed in front of his chest, he deadpanned as he watched your head drop lower and lower to the mattress. soon enough, you were snoring away on his bed with the gadget discarded by your feet. he watched you in silence, your cheek smushed against the surface and the intensity you always radiated lessening from your body. you looked normal now; not energetic, not talkative. just sleeping peacefully, the way he always made sure you were after carrying you home. 

diluc’s heart was finally softening under the knowledge that nobody was watching him anymore. the pessimistic monster that often emerges from him was still here, but in the face of you, it has painted itself pink and it has forgotten vengeance and retribution. in the face of you, it has been dragged out from the death it once laid and became forgiven. 

carefully laying your head down on the pillow, diluc draped the blanket over your shoulder to tuck you into his bed. after making sure you were fine and well, he placed the kamera on the desk in the room, somewhere visible you could find once you wake up, and he left for one of the guest rooms in the mansion. 

tonight was the first time in a while when he has forgotten about all the problems he’s had. something that wasn’t about wine, the family business, or the abyss order. it wasn’t the rest he wanted, perhaps it was hardly any rest at all, but he was glad he got to think about something else.

of course, diluc would never tell you that.

[yesimwriting]

Solace (part 2)

SOLACE (part 2)

A part two but kinda works as a stand alone!!

A/n y’all seemed to like the first one so I thought I’d make a part two :)) This was NOT meant to be a series but now I kind of have an idea to make this a mini series where each part is kind of a blurb that connects to the last part and I think I might do that. 

Pairing: General Kirigan/the Darkling x Heartrender! reader

Summary: The day after you go visit General Kirigan at night is also the day he decides he can become more honest about his intentions for you. The softness of it all is starting to get to you but you have a good friend to remind you that it’s okay to feel happy. 

-- 

The sunlight peers into the room shyly. It stirs me awake into a soft bliss. Warmth. When was the last time I woke up feeling so warm? So rested? I squint my eyes open, still calm. But when my vision finally adjusts, I feel like ice all over again. This is not where I’m supposed to be. 

Memories of sneaking here in the darkness of night, speaking to Kirigan so freely, and then letting him convince me to stay. He had seemed to want me here then, in the night when loneliness finds easy prey in even the most hardened individuals...but now, in the morning sunlight--he’ll regret it. We made it clear I’d stay only that night--and that night is now gone. Maybe he expects me to be gone before he rises. I know that’s what most men expect after taking company for the night, but we didn’t exactly partake in activities like that. I think what we did is worse. 

Relations like that are about desire, falling asleep with someone else borders on intimacy. One misstep and who knows what I’ll invoke? I shift my gaze upwards, careful to not move in hopes of not disturbing the arms he’s draped across my back, holding me to him. Kirigan seems different in sleep, softer. His features are still sharp, but there’s something gentle about seeing him vulnerable. Something about the way his lashes brush against his cheeks and his lips stay parted just slightly. This moment can never repeat itself. It can never happen again, so I’ll have to hold onto this. 

Cautiously, I prepare to slip out of his grasp even though it feels like its the only thing tethering me to this world. I touch his first hand, moving it off of me slowly. I wait a second, and when he remains unstirring I move his other hand. 

“What are you so eager for, little wolf?” The raspy, tired quality of his voice leaves my stomach fluttering. His words jar me so much I find myself frozen. 

He reaches lazily, placing an arm on the center of my back, trying to ease me back into place. “It’s morning now.” 

His thumb brushes up and down my back in a way meant to lull me. “I’m the Shadow Summoner, the night lasts as long as I want it to.” He lets out an easy breath, “And I’m prolonging it.” 

Ignoring the warmth the implications of his words bring, I decide to focus on how dramatic he is. “Dramatic even so early in the morning.” 

Kirigan’s eyes flutter open, the slightest smile playing at the edge of his lips. “Watch yourself, little wolf.” There is no malice in his voice, only something hinting at teasing too humane for me to trust. 

I roll my eyes, letting his fingers brush wherever he wants them to--up and down my back, down the arms I am too aware of. The desire to touch him easily, casually, just to prove that I have that privilege. I stretch, pushing down thoughts of rejection as I place a hand on his chest. He pauses, one hand frozen in place on my back. Slowly, he moves his hand away from me. I tense, preparing to retract my hand. He catches my hand before I can pull it away, moving it towards him easily until my hand is against his cheek. 

“Y/n.” He’s called me my name so few times, and the restraint in his voice leaves me unnerved. “Will you wear a black kefta today?” 

His color. Perhaps he meant the promise of solace more literally than I thought. Anyone who sees me will think I’ve been claimed by him in one way or another. Perhaps I have been. The thought stirs my chest, moving me in a way I can’t distinguish as a positive or negative. I feel myself being ensnared in a lovely trap, but when I look at him, at the honesty burning in his gaze, it’s almost as if he’s asking me to claim him. 

“Yes.” Again the word leaves me as if willed by some outside force. 

Kirigan’s intensity dwindles slightly. His hand drops from over mine, but I keep mine on his cheek, running my thumb across his skin. “You’ll do good for me today, little wolf.” His words leave no room for argument. I think speaking like that is a talent of his. “You always do so good for me.” The admiration in his words melt something in me, my entire body warmed in a way I don’t understand. Kirigan brushes his knuckles across my cheek again. 

I’ve been silent for too long, each second I waste inflating his ego. “You’re suspiciously nice in the mornings.” 

“You’re only skeptical because you never let anyone take care of you.” His words are chiding and the implication of them leaves my face warm. “So much promise,” he muses, hand trailing down my jawline, “So much power,” his fingers skim down my neck and across my collarbone. “I wonder what someone like you could do with an amplifier.”

An amplifier. I’ve seen them in use, and knowing what I could do with something that strengthens my already abrasive abilities. I could be a monster so easily. Kirigan must see some of my concern because he’s quick to sit up a little more in order to close the distance between us the way he did last night. He brushes his lips against my collarbone in a way that leaves me distracted by wanting. A wanting for what, I’m not sure. I ease into his touch. 

“Today everyone will know what you are.” His voice is gentle against the base of my neck. “And they will know that we are meant to be equals.” 

I feel the need to panic rise in my chest, but it’s dulled by the warmth his lips leave against my skin. “I’m only a Heartrender, I can’t be your equal.” 

“You are,” he whispers, so assured, “With a heart as good as yours you may even be more.”

His words are too weighted for so early in the morning, but there is always tension with him. Shadows are meant to be weightless but I think they’re like anything else--carry enough of them and eventually you’ll break. 

When he straightens I move to follow him, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. “You’re good, too.” There has to be goodness in him. No one capable of such warmth and gentleness can be made up entirely of wicked things. 

“You claimed I was a villain.” 

Did my words really impact him so? “My opinion isn’t law.” 

Something strange flickers across his features. “It might as well be.” 

I swallow back a bundle of nerves. “Sometimes I’m wrong.” 

The words crack something vulnerable in me. A part of me thinks he can feel the part of me that’s breaking in hopes of offering him something. 

“You really are my solace.” I don’t know how to reciprocate such a gilded sentiment. 

I rest my head against his shoulder, taking his hand. “I’m glad to be that.” 

He squeezes my hand. “We should go get ready before people start to notice our absence.” 

I consider reminding him what he told me last night, but he has a point. There’s a difference between a rumor of me pacing in the night and both of us showing up late at the same time. Still though, a part of me is already grieving this version of Kirigan. Outside of this room his coldness will return. ‘Just for tonight’. We had agreed on that. But when the night ended, and the morning sun colored us both sane again, he had asked me to wear his color. 

“I’ll go get dressed,” I stay still. 

Kirigan runs his thumb over my knuckles. “I’ll have a black kefta sent to you.”

That has to mean something. Wait--do I want it to mean something? I pull my hand away from his stiffly, standing because I know the longer I’ll wait the worse it will be. “I’ll see you during training.” 

“My door will be unlocked after.” 

At that, my chest swells. He’s offered me an opening. “Good to know.” 

His eyes narrow slightly at my coyness. “Find me after?” 

“Only because you’re nicer in here.” He wants me to come back. 

--

The black kefta does not feel like my own. The color is too alluring, too dark and enthralling. It is not meant for someone like me. It feels borrowed, but I’m not entirely uncomfortable. It’s almost like he’s still with me, keeping me from being alone. 

When I walk down the halls, I feel the stares of the others sticking to me like tar. They barely tolerated me before--the grisha plucked from the slums after a fateful night in which Kirigan saw the extent of my abilities. 

“New clothes, l/n?” 

Julian’s words coax an easy smile from me. Always so open, so accepting. Even now he doesn’t pester me about the black kefta. “I barely noticed.” 

My lack of real response earns me a playful glare. “Is that the only explanation I get? Moving up the ranks without me?” 

I roll my eyes. He’s joking, but he’s drawing more eyes to me. “I’m not leaving you, Julian.” He’s been too good a friend for me to leave. “Nothing’s changed except the color of my clothing.” 

“Good.” Julian’s lips twitch upwards, offering me the kind of smile that’s earned him many trysts with many women. “I’d miss you too much.” 

And while I doubt that my disappearance would do anything else than up his popularity, I appreciate the sentiment. “Oh I’m sure you’d find a way to find company.” 

He half laughs, “What are you implying of my virtue?”

Laughing, I roll my eyes as we continue to walk down the halls. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.” 

Julian reaches for me, touching my forearm. I stall. “In all seriousness, y/n, I really appreciate your friendship.” 

Aw. Never did I think I’d have so many people to appreciate here. I think of Kirigan, of the vulnerability in his words and the new facet of him I saw last night that I somehow always knew he had in him. He may be a villain, or just one in the making, but he is more than a dark shadow. I find myself releasing I appreciate Kirigan too. It’s different than the way I care about Julian, more fragile, but it’s still a relationship I’ve created here. 

I look down at the space where his hand touches my forearm. “I really appreciate your friendship, too. You’ve gotten me through a lot.”

“You need to give yourself some credit.” He releases my arm, turning to continue to walk forward. 

I turn as well, “You should too.”

 I look forward, and there, in the near distance is Kirigan. He’s staring at me, eyes lacking everything he had earlier. I offer him a small smile. He does not return it, his drops slowly to the ground. Weird. I guess he’s just turning on his indifference for a day of training. He asked me to wear his color, he asked me to come back. 

Does he regret it? Maybe it was a premature request for me to wear his color so publicly. His gaze finds mine again, and with a tilt of his head he gestures for me to follow him.

--

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper

[cherienymphe]

Crossfire IV (Bucky x Reader x Steve)

Warnings: domestic violence, implied NON-CON, biker!Bucky

PLEASE DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics​

summary: You and your new husband Steve move back to his hometown. It is here that his past catches up with him, and you both pay the price.

~

You were awake when Steve left for work the next morning. He’d tried to coax you into sex, but you had feigned fatigue, telling him that you were still exhausted and sore from the previous night. You weren’t sure if he believed you, you had a feeling that he didn’t, but you didn’t care. He left you with a lingering kiss, blue eyes murky with a myriad of emotions you didn’t care to place.

You had laid in bed for an hour, just staring at the ceiling as you attempted to sort your thoughts and your feelings. Your husband, a man who was once your best friend but now a stranger to you, had been involved in a life of crime during his younger days that consisted of things that made your stomach turn. He’d hurt people, stolen from people, and probably much worse. Now, you were back in his hometown, reaping the consequences of his actions. Actions that he had failed to disclose with you.

After you finally got up, you just wandered aimlessly around the house. Here and there, you unpacked more stuff little by little, but after a while, you found yourself wondering if there was even a point. Surely, you couldn’t stay here. Right? That was something that should’ve been discussed in more detail last night but…

You released a sigh as you stepped outside, taking a few empty boxes to the trash.

You were so angry last night, and Steve… Thinking of what happened between you two left a sour taste in your mouth. You hadn’t even wanted to sleep with him, that’s how angry you were, and it seemed like Steve hadn’t cared. You shook your head, telling yourself that it was complicated. You both were dealing with an onslaught of emotions. You had just turned to head back inside when you heard the roar of a motorcycle. 

Several motorcycles.

Your eyes widened and you turned back around just in time to watch 4 bikers pull into your yard, 3 of which you recognized. The 4th was a man you’d never seen before, his broad and bulky frame making you swallow, dirty blonde strands pulled back away from his face into a bun. They all parked, Sam, Clint and the mystery man remaining behind while Bucky approached you.

Without sparing him a second glance, you hurried back to your house. You could hear him calling your name, but you ignored him, determined to get away from him and inside as soon as possible. You may have been drunk, but you remembered the feel of his hands and lips on you clearly. Those same hands roughly grabbed you just as you took the first step onto the porch. 

A yelp escaped you as he pulled you to him, roughly helping you up the steps. You could feel his heartbeat against your arm, his breath disrupting your hair. Despite your efforts to fight him off, he jerked you around easily until you were facing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the 3 other men were just sitting there on their bikes, watching the whole ordeal. You had a feeling they didn’t stop by to say hello.

“You talk to Steve?” he wondered, head tilted to the side.

You didn’t answer him, looking away, and he chuckled, a smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“Why do I get the feeling that your conversation didn’t go as planned?”

Again, you said nothing, and he hummed, forcing you to look at him.

“Maybe there wasn’t much talking involved, at all,” he mused. “Steve was always good at hiding his temper…”

Your eyes widened a bit, and his smirk grew.

“...until he couldn’t anymore.”

You snatched yourself out of the dark-haired man’s grip, wrapping your arms around yourself as you glanced at the other men in the yard. You released a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding and took a step back.

“Look… I’m sorry for what Steve did. It wasn’t right, and I wish that I had known before I came here…”

Bucky simply studied you, blue eyes narrowed a tad.

“...but this is between you and Steve. This should be handled between the two of you, and I’m sick of being involved with it.”

He raised his brows at your firm tone, and you tried not to let on how scared you really were. Truthfully, you were frustrated more than anything else. You were frustrated with the man before you for taking out his anger at Steve on you, and you were frustrated with Steve for keeping you in the dark about all of this.

“If I could take back what Steve did, I would. If I had that money to give you, I would for the sole hope of you leaving us alone, but I can’t. You’re angry, understandably, but discuss it over with the appropriate party. Stop cornering me, stop coming by our house unannounced when you know he isn’t here, stop touching me- just stop! This has nothing to do with me-!”

“What if it did?” he interrupted, taking a step towards you.

You frowned at him, forcing yourself to stand your ground, resisting the urge to squirm as he ran his cold eyes over you. 

“Even if Steve did have that money, he wouldn’t give it back,” he said, confirming your own suspicions about all of this. “I’m not expecting it back, but…”

He stopped a hair’s width away from you, looking down his nose at you. For a moment, you forgot about the other 3 parties watching you two, and you stumbled back, prepared to run into the house when Bucky grabbed you. His hands were painful on your arms, and you winced, attempting to push him away.

“What if this did involve you?”

“Let go of me,” you whispered, but he continued as if he hadn’t heard you.

“What if you could do something to make all of this go away?”

You froze, frown deepening as you fought to understand what he meant. You didn’t like the way he was looking at you. You never liked the way he looked at you, but there was something especially heinous about the way he was looking at you now. He leaned in, his nose brushing against your own, and you leaned back as much as you possibly could.

“God knows I would love to punch that punk until he swallowed all of his teeth for what he did. I’d kill to take everything away from him so he could feel a fraction of what I did when he betrayed us…”

His voice was low, thick with something you were too scared to name. He jerked you closer, and you stumbled into him, your chest pressed against his as he hummed.

“...but why do all of that...when I could just take you?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and nausea washed over you like a wave. His blue eyes sparkled as he grinned, looking even more intimidating as his teeth winked at you.

“I think that would upset him very much. I think that’d drive him absolutely insane, wouldn’t it?”

You were fighting against him now, but he wasn’t letting up, and tears sprang to your eyes as he continued to torment you with his words.

“...to know that you’re mine now, and that you came willingly. That would be the real kicker-.”

“Let go of me,” you spat.

“It would eat him up inside, knowing that you’re with me, taking my cock every night-.”

“Stop!”

“That I have you wrapped around me, filling you up as much as I want, and all to protect him-.”

He cut himself off with a chuckle as you finally got out of his hold, stumbling towards the door. Your chest was heaving with anger and disgust and panic all rolled into one. You struggled to open the door, and he laughed at you some more.

“Let me know what you think, doll. You’ve got 3 days.”

You slammed the door in his face, back pressed to it as you slid to the floor. Your vision was blurry from your tears, and you drew your knees up to your chest, letting your head fall as the roar of motorcycles reached your ears.

Your back was pressed to the counter, arms folded over your chest, eyes on the simmering food when Steve walked through the door. He was quiet, and you would have found it odd but you were quiet too. You bit your lip, moving to turn the pots off when he entered the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready,” you quietly told him, and he simply hummed.

You finally turned to look at him, surprised to find a frown on his face. You chose not to dwell on it and instead cleared your throat, shifting on your feet.

“Steve, we need to talk.”

He exhaled through his nose, and you watched as he rolled the sleeves of his button down up, resting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah...we do.”

You didn’t like his tone, heart stuttering as you stood on the end of his heated gaze.

“Why don’t you go first...”

His words were gentle, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. Shaking it off, you spoke.

“I think we should leave.”

He blinked, and it seemed that he hadn’t been expecting that, and you continued.

“It isn’t safe here, and I want to start a family somewhere safe. Let’s leave,” you breathed, walking towards him and taking his hand.

He stared at you with pursed lips and hard eyes, and you squeezed his hand.

“Let’s go,” you pleaded. “Only half of our stuff is unpacked anyway. Let’s just pack up the rest and get out of here.”

Steve stared at you for a long time, not saying anything, and you wondered what he was thinking. For the first time in a long time, you couldn’t really get a read on him, and that made you frown. He took a deep breath, heaving a heavy sigh as he tilted his head at you.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with Bucky’s visit today...would it?”

His words made you freeze, and you blinked at him, brows drawing together at his words. You opened and closed your mouth, at a loss for words before you finally cleared your throat.

“...what?”

“You heard me,” Steve said, stepping towards you.

You took a step back, shaking your head. 

“I-.”

“Why was he here, Y/N? Why didn’t you call me the minute you could? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You were taken aback by his tone, and you shook your head.

“I didn’t… It doesn’t matter-.”

“It does to me,” he interrupted, taking another step towards you, forcing you back. “Why does he keep showing up here? Showing up wherever you are?”

You didn’t like the accusations in his voice, and you felt irritation rising.

“You know why! You did this, Steve…”

He scoffed. 

“You did! You’re the reason he keeps showing up and I… I just- I just want to leave. Let’s just go! Please,” you begged, trying to pull him out of the kitchen, but he wouldn’t nudge.

“What did he say to you?”

“How did you even know?”

This wasn’t the first time he’d caught you off guard with knowing something before you even got to tell him.

“Does that matter? Why was he here? What did he say?”

“Who cares?” you screamed.

“Clearly you do since it’s scaring you enough to run,” he argued. 

“Yes, I’m scared!”

You huffed at him, not understanding how he wasn’t getting it.

“I can’t go anywhere without him showing up and threatening me. You dragged me into this with no warning, no hint, no nothing! I’m terrified, Steve,” you cried. “I don’t feel safe here, and I feel like you don’t care.”

“Of course, I care,” he sighed, pulling you into his arms. “I just… I came back here to settle down. This is my home, and I won’t be bullied out of it.”

You shook your head, pulling away from him.

“Steve...I have 3 days. He wants...he wants me,” you softly whispered, almost afraid to say it.

Steve’s hold tightened on your arms, and your eyes focused on the floor.

“He’s threatening to hurt you or worse unless I…”

“Unless you what? Give yourself to him?”

His hold tightened to a painful degree, and you hissed, trying to pull away. You looked at him again and found Steve the angriest you’d ever seen him.

“This is why we should just leave-.”

“This is why I should make it clear once and for all that he isn’t welcome here, around you,” he gritted out, moving away from you. 

You watched as he neared the coffee table, where his keys were, and you nearly growled in frustration. 

“Steve, stop,” you said, grabbing onto his arm.

“Why?” he wondered, whirling on you. “Why are you trying to protect him?”

“I’m not,” you snapped, offended at his implications. “I’m trying to protect you. Us! Just leave it alone, leave him alone, and let’s go! Please, Steve-.”

You swallowed your words when he grabbed you again, forcing you back as he pressed his chest to yours.

“Would you have done it? If you hadn’t told me, in 3 days, would you have gone to him?”

His question threw you, and you hesitated. Would you? To protect Steve, you’d do just about anything, but would you go to Bucky?

“You would,” he decided for you, and you shook your head. “He keeps sniffing around here, and I’m starting to think you like it.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped.

Your back harshly met the wall, and you flinched. Steve towered over you, looking much larger than usual. Your confusion had to have been all over your features, but Steve was too far gone too care.

“You have to.”

“I am literally trying to leave-.”

“No one is that stupid,” he sneered.

“Hey!”

Tears sprang to your eyes again, lips trembling as he pushed away from you, shaking his head.

“You keep putting yourself in these situations, in these compromising positions with him-.”

“Stop!”

The house was quiet as you two just stared at each other, Steve’s eyes narrowed while yours were filled with tears, chest clenching from his painful words.

“You do not get to talk to me like that,” you whispered.

Steve at least had the decency to look away in shame, but by the clenching of his jaw, it was clear that he was still angry.

“I am your wife, and you do not get to talk to me that way. You did this, Steve. We are in this situation because of you, and it doesn’t seem like you plan to do anything about it. Anything that would help anyway,” you mumbled.

He didn’t respond, and you released a shaky breath, trying to hold back more tears.

“I’m going to bed. Enjoy your dinner,” you sneered, brushing past him and making your way up the stairs.

Steve joined you only an hour or so later, and you feigned sleep despite being wide awake. You could barely stand to lay beside him, and the thought made your heart hurt. He had never looked at you like that, talked to you like that. Your husband was becoming a stranger to you, and you hated it. It made you sad, but it made you just as angry. 

Steve had let you walk into all of this blind, putting not only your life in danger, but the possible life of your future child. The two of you had discussed children often, and it seemed agreed upon that you both wanted to get started right away. Did he honestly expect you to raise a child in this? God, you could literally be pregnant, right now, and Steve didn’t seem to want to make this situation any better.

Before you knew it, it was 2 in the morning, and you were zipping up a small bag of clothes and toiletries that would last you a week. If anything, to you, it seemed like Steve was content to go back to his old lifestyle. He wanted to solve this in ways that you didn’t agree with, and if that’s what he wanted to do, then he was free to do it by himself.

It didn’t take long at all to write a brief note explaining your departure, expressing your hopes that he’d follow you, but you couldn’t stay here any longer. You didn’t feel safe in your own home and never in your life had you felt that way. You felt bad, sure, but your mental and physical health was far more important.

You bit your lip, keys clenched in your fist as you placed the letter on the coffee table. You knew Steve would be mad, but you also knew he’d understand. Right? He had to understand your fear, your concern. Right? You moved to unlock the door, hand on the knob, when a cold voice stopped you.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You whirled around with wide eyes, taking in Steve’s broad form standing at the top of the stairs. You pressed your hand to your heart, the sight of him almost giving you a heart attack, and you swallowed when you registered just what he’d asked you. You watched him make his way down the stairs, and you sighed.

“Steve, I can’t do this,” you quietly said.

Even in the darkness, you could make out the hardness of his eyes, the way his lips pressed together, jaw ticking.

“I want you to come with me, but… I can’t wait for you to realize just how bad this situation is. I can’t stay here.”

“So you were just going to leave?”

“I left a letter,” you lamely defended, swallowing. 

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, and you watched the way his eyes narrowed. 

“A letter.”

He was angry.

“Steve-.”

“You were just going to leave...in the middle of the night…”

“I can’t stay here-.”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as his hands clamped down on your arms, yanking you towards him. You stumbled into him, feet tripping over one another, and you hated the way he held you.

“You’re not leaving,” he quietly spat.

“I have to-!”

Your words died on your throat as one of his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing tight, and you struggled to speak. His other arm curled around your waist, holding you to him, and you struggled in his grip. His nose pressed against yours, lips brushing your own as he glared at you.

“You are not leaving me.”

He grabbed the bag on your shoulder, and you attempted to hold onto it while also getting out of his hold. In the struggle, your feet caught on one another, and you stumbled to the floor. You moved to push yourself to your knees, but Steve was there, fingers pressing into the sides of your throat as he pressed his hand on the back of your neck.

You winced, a pained gasp escaping you as you reached up. He forced you to your feet, holding you to him as he walked you towards the stairs.

“St-Steve…”

His other hand pressed to the front of your neck, lips at your ear.

“You are staying right here by my side.”

Your shoulders lifted at the pain that traveled through you, and you were somewhat in disbelief at what was happening.

“S-stop! Steve-!”

You hissed in pain when your foot hit a step, you put your hands out to prevent him from forcing you into the bedroom, but he shoved you inside with ease. You didn’t understand what was happening until the door clicked shut behind him, your face pressed into the bed as he pushed you onto it. 

“You were going to leave me...leave me to wake up to any empty bed, an empty house...”

His voice was a deadly calm, and it scared you more than his hands on you at the moment. Hands that were pulling at your clothes. 

“What were you hoping to accomplish? Because I would have followed you and dragged you back here without hesitation,” he sneered.

The cool night air hit you, and you shook, face wet from tears as reality began to set in. His bare chest pressed to your back, pinning you down beneath him, a hand on your head as his lips grazed over your neck.

“For better or worse, sweetheart. Those are the vows we took-.”

“Steve, please,” you tearfully begged as he pressed your face further into the sheets.

“...this is just a little snag, a little bit of the worse, but let me remind you of the better…”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @kellyn1604 @sherrybaby14 @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @sapphirescrolls @threeminutesoflife @searchforanotherway @mcudarklibrary @ksjksjkv @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @navegandoaciegas​ @c1nnam0n-g4rl​ @mr-darcy-is-a-hobbit​ @siriusjohnpotter​ @candy3002​ @jevans2​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @widowsmaximoff​ @nerdygirl8203​ @literalmcuhoe​ @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @charmed-asylum​

[blue-mood-blue]

No one asked about the eye.

It wasn't something Peter Nureyev even noticed that he'd noticed, just another unnecessary piece of information filed away in the back of his mind for use later if he needed it. He was doing his best to stay out of Juno Steel's way, after all, ensuring that they weren't stuck in a room together alone and forced to make stilted, polite conversation; he rarely had reason to spare extra energy in observing the way the rest of their strange band interacted with Juno.

When he caught a glance at Juno rubbing his eye one morning under the patch, shuffling past where Peter was seated at the table and nodding along to whatever tangent Rita was prattling away about behind him while obviously retaining nothing, the thought occurred to Peter again: no one ever asked Juno about his eye. It went mostly unremarked upon entirely, even when "family dinner" devolved into "taking cheap shots at each other."

Like as not it was just good manners, Peter decided as he shifted his attention back to the tablet in his hand. It would be in poor taste to pepper someone with questions about a serious, visible injury, and if Juno didn't bring it up it hardly fell to any of the rest of them to bring it up for him. And Juno had been without an eye for some time - if he wanted a cybernetic alternative, he could have gotten one long before now. He could have listed it with his other requirements for working with Buddy's crew, even. That was his own business.

No one said anything about the eye - asked any questions, voiced any concerns, made any offers - and Peter put it out of his head. Peter put it out of his head when Juno forgot his patch and still seemed surprised to find an empty socket, when Juno’s depth perception still suffered despite the time he'd had to get used to it, when Juno took emptied cans from a meal and lined them up outside whenever they were somewhere with enough gravity to make it worth his while and practiced his shooting.

Juno went wide every time. And every time, Peter remembered his precise shooting from before, and felt a pang in his chest.

"He isn't getting any better." Peter wasn't sure why he spoke up, and to Jet, who seemed absorbed with whatever he was doing to the Carte Blanche while Peter idly watched Juno practice. He hadn’t meant to say anything, it was the kind of pointless sentiment that was best left in Peter’s head if it had to be anywhere at all, and it was a small mercy that he’d said so softly enough that Jet had plenty of room to pretend he hadn’t heard.

"He is not," Jet replied.

Should have kept his mouth shut, Peter thought, while continuing to not keep his mouth shut. "It's concerning that he hasn't improved by now, considering when he lost the eye. He might never get that sharpshooting back."

"He might not," Jet agreed.

"He could consider getting it replaced - the technology exists." Just because it would make their work easier, Peter justified to himself. The only reason he cared about Juno Steel's sharpshooting was because it might be necessary to save their lives at some point. Otherwise, he would leave well enough alone.

There was no reply from Jet, and Peter assumed the man had finally decided that the conversation wasn't worth continuing. He was surprised, then, when he looked up and found Jet regarding him seriously, that steady gaze unwavering.

"I do not think Juno would want such a thing. I would advise you not to mention it to him." Before Peter had the chance to ask what he meant, to figure out how Jet could have come to that leap of a conclusion when he barely knew Juno and certainly hadn't been there when he'd lost the eye, Jet stood up, collected his tools, and went back inside.

Peter watched another wide shot, lost in thoughts that didn't get him anywhere.

~~~

It was late, and the Carte Blanche was quiet, and Peter didn't know why he was awake.

It might have been that the bed felt too empty; a startlingly vulnerable conclusion, since Juno didn't spend every night there even after their conversation, but there was no point denying the possibility. More likely that he'd heard something, and the ability to wake quickly had saved him too many times for him to easily put aside the habit now. When he didn't hear it again, he rolled to the far side of the bed and resolutely tried to fall back asleep.

Five minutes later, with a put-upon sigh, Peter dragged himself to his feet. The idea of the empty bed had wormed its way into his head and he couldn’t stop thinking about the cold, extra space. It was ridiculous and mortifying that he was actually considering knocking on Juno's door in the early hours of the morning to ask for a space in his bed; worse that he knew he wouldn’t, and that he would never get back to sleep now that he’d allowed himself to consider it. Might as well find a distraction, since he was up anyway.

He'd already passed the living area on his way to the kitchen when he stopped, a delayed reaction to something sending a chill down his spine, and slowly walked back in. It was dark - the faint lights of the hallway filtered in and mixed with the ambient light from the windows, giving only just enough illumination for Peter to find what unsettled him. There was someone in there, on the couch, sitting straight as a mannequin who’d been positioned that way and whispering something in a low, unnaturally steady thrum.

Peter froze in the doorway. It was Juno.

He didn't seem right; it was a vague conclusion that didn't do the pit in Peter's stomach justice, but it was a hard thing to define besides a sense of wrong. The muttering and the blank stare told him that Juno was probably sleepwalking, or something like it; the rigid way he was sitting and his sharp focus on nothing implied something else. He hadn't reacted at all to Peter passing through the room, to Peter walking right in front of him and right past that focused, unfocused stare, and he didn't react as Peter quietly walked closer.

"Juno?" Nothing. Not a twitch to indicate he'd heard, not so much as a pause between the stream of muttered, whispered words. Peter crept closer, sat slowly down next to him on the couch, and as he was reaching up to touch his shoulder he heard what Juno was saying.

“Goodness-is-the-only-purpose-I-have-little-potential-for-Good-therefore-I-am-worth-little-the-Tower-has-great-potential-therefore-it-is-great-"

It all felt deeply, deeply unsettling. It was Juno's voice but not his words; the cadence was even and emotionless and mechanic, as if something else were speaking through him with no concept of how to be Juno. Peter's hand stopped because suddenly, foolishly, he was afraid to attract the attention of whoever it was sitting next to him. And just as foolishly, he was afraid to leave Juno alone and lost.

"It's a dream, Nureyev," he muttered to himself, disgusted that a simple act of comfort was beyond him, even momentarily. Juno was trying, and what was Peter doing? Sitting next to him, unable to touch him, useless to him. Ridiculous. "Just wake him up and maybe you can both get some sleep."

"Boss?" Peter nearly jumped out of his skin, and he jostled Juno next to him; in his focus on listening to what Juno was saying, he hadn't heard Rita walk in. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes, looking between Peter and Juno. "Boss, you feelin’ okay?"

"-systems-are-beginning-to-fail-Emotional-Danger-Avoidance-Protocol-has-been-deactivated-request-received-diverting-remaining-processing-power-from-pain-numbing-functions-"

"Oh." Rita didn't seem confused. Concerned, though, in a quiet way that was so unlike her it made Peter wonder what happened to people on this ship at night to change them so thoroughly. Or perhaps, not on this ship at all. “You better leave this to me, Mista Ransom. I mean, you could try, but he probably wouldn’t remember you and it’d get pretty confusing.”

The pit of unease at the bottom of Peter’s stomach was widening, quickly. He stared at Juno. “He wouldn’t… remember?”

“He gets a little scrambled when he gets like this - it’s not really surprising after spending all that time with someone talking at him in his head all the time, you know, he told me about what it was like and I don’t think I’d like it myself, someone tryin’ to tell me what to do -“

“What… what are you...” Peter shook his head. Not important. It wasn’t important for him to understand right now, while his questions would only leave Juno stuck in his own mind longer. “Can you help him?”

Rita smiled at him reassuringly, as if the situation had not left her terrifyingly out of her depth. All the better, Peter thought faintly, as he continued to sit by and be useless. “Oh yeah, I got him. You can go to bed if you want.”

Peter shook his head. He would not be sleeping tonight, not until Juno was well. He could think about what his inability to leave meant later.

"Must've been a bad day if you're dealing with this again, huh?" She was talking to Juno and he wasn't hearing her, so she sat on his other side and tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't react. "Mista Steel, it's Rita. You remember me, right? Rita's gonna get you outta there, don't you worry, boss."

"Ri-ta." He pronounced it like the sound was something strange and foreign, like he was making a first attempt to say something he'd never tried before. “Rita. Rita. Rita Rita Rita Rita...”

Suddenly, Juno's head snapped to look at her. It was unsettling; someone who was asleep should have been slower to react, but the movement was unnaturally swift. He looked right at Rita, and this time when he spoke, he almost, horribly, sounded like himself. He was smiling. "The net Good of: save the Tower and bring peace to every human in the Galaxy. Outweighs the net evil of: killing every person in this room, one by one, until you reveal yourself."

Rita just took one of his hands and patted the back of it. "Okay boss, that's real nice and all, but I'm sitting right here. You don't gotta lure me out, and besides we're not even there right now and we haven't been for a long time now. If you really wanna get back at me the only thing you can do is fire me, and we both know you’d never actually do that because then where would you be?"

The silence was so much bigger after her chatter; there was a tension in her shoulders that she wasn’t letting show on her face. And then the tension in Juno collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, and Peter heard a beautiful sound. "Rita?" He sounded exhausted, but that was unmistakably and mercifully Juno’s voice. "What am I... doing on the couch?"

Rita's smile was big enough to light up the room - big and genuine and relieved. Peter wondered if she would ever explain what he'd just seen, and somehow he doubted it. "You promised to watch a movie with me and Mista Ransom, boss! And since you're awake now anyway and you always say you're too busy to watch a movie in the middle of the day I just thought we might as well watch something in the middle of the night instead, since all you're ever doing then is sleeping anyway -"

It didn't seem like he was keeping up very well with what Rita was telling him, but the mention of "Ransom" must have caught his attention because he turned around to confirm that Peter was there. Snapped out of whatever trap of his own mind he'd been caught in a moment earlier, Juno just looked tired; Peter reached for his other hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling in a way that he hoped masked his uncertainty. "Might as well watch something until we all fall asleep, hm?"

Peter wasn't sure if Juno was too tired to comprehend what either of them were talking about, or if he was just comfortable enough in their combined presence that it didn't matter that he didn't understand; whatever the reason, instead of answering either of them or asking any more questions he lay his head on Peter's shoulder and was almost asleep already by the time Rita got back with her tablet.

~~~

It was only a voice, robotic and designed to be soothing. The message calmly explained the steps of the security procedure before the event during the elevator ride, and Juno reached for Peter's hand.

His grip was tight and desperate, like a vice, but he wouldn't look over to Peter. He wouldn't explain if he could, wasn't allowed to explain here even if Peter was allowed to ask and they weren't already in their characters for the latest job. Juno wasn't ready to talk about it.

Peter squeezed his hand and took a step closer, disguised behind a subtle shift in his stance. "Just hold onto me, love," he muttered under his breath, hoping Juno could hear. "We'll make it through."

~~~

It was garbage television, what Peter finally settled on while he worked his way through an enormous bowl of ice cream in the preciously rare, quiet evening on the Carte Blanche. He'd probably have joined the festivities planetside if not for the badly-sprained ankle and cracked ribs, and he'd probably have been more upset about the whole thing had Juno not volunteered to stay with him. As it was, he allowed himself to enjoy the evening for exactly what it was - quiet and calm that he usually didn't get, and alone time with Juno with blissfully few expectations for either of them.

Juno had settled him in, placed the bowl and the remote in his hands, and kissed the top of Peter's head before promising that he'd be back in a minute. Peter took advantage of his absence to find something really awful to watch, fully planning to use his injuries as emotional manipulation if Juno started to complain. Remote privileges were rare in their strange little group.

He'd settled on a conspiracy program before Juno got back, a recent special set in Hyperion City - ought to be good for a laugh for Juno, too, who'd probably spend the entire time arguing with the host about everything she didn't know about the city he'd grown up in. Peter had seen the odd article about it circulating the tabloids - New Town, home of experimental brainwashing that no one could prove. As unlikely as it was interesting, far-fetched as it was entertaining.

Juno walked in as the theme started to play, already groaning. "I have no idea why you like this show. It's such a crock of shit and you know it." The criticism was tempered by good-natured laughter.

"Some of us like a good story well-told, Detective, even if it's not quite true." He smiled as he looked above him, where Juno was leaning over the couch... and stopped when he saw his expression. "Juno?"

Juno was staring at the tv, looking for all the world like he'd just seen a ghost. The program opened on a scene of former Mayor O'Flaherty, giving a speech about good to an awed and eagar public, specifically about creating a better home; Juno stared, so still and yet hanging on every word.

"Juno, dear? Are you... alright?"

He shook his head and cleared his throat. "Uh, what exactly are you watching?"

"That 'New Town' conspiracy, the one with the brainwashing." Juno didn't say anything, didn't seem to react in any way Peter could see. "Juno. Tell me what's wrong, please."

Juno rubbed at his eye, first over the patch and then under it, still watching the tv. The footage had changed from the speech to a dramatic shot of New Town's grand opening, played in slow motion with tense, swelling music to make the moment appropriately dramatic. "It's... nothing's wrong." He glanced down at Peter, and cracked an uneasy smile when he saw exactly how much Peter believed that. "Okay, nothing's wrong right now. It's just..."

"Just...?"

"A bad memory. A few bad memories."

Peter wasn't sure if he should ask, wasn't sure if he was allowed. Juno had put so much work into being open; wasn't it his part to respect the boundaries where they were, and to trust that Juno would talk to him when he was ready? They'd invested so much time and effort in building something that wouldn't collapse and hurt them both. So instead of pushing, he asks: "Sit with me?"

And when he does, Juno asks him: "Did I ever tell you how I met Buddy?"

When Juno starts his story, honest and well-told, Peter turns off the television to listen to him.

[dameronology]

asystole {obi-wan kenobi x reader}

summary: ‘the trouble is the way you stick, to any part of me that remains in tact/but if i pull the plug, it isn’t only me i’m holding back’ - asystole, hayley williams (a.k.a ‘the one where you’re the bane of obi-wan’s life, even as a force ghost’) 

warnings: mentions of death, swearing, angst, and me not having a single fucking clue how force ghosts work 

this was originally based on a random idea i had and also encouragement from kara/@hellotherekenobi who requested a prompt that i completely forgot to include but...we move. also, i would highly highly recommend listening to the above song just because it’s a real tear jerker and i lOVE it 

enjoy 

- jazz 

Loss, for Obi-Wan, was not a stranger. It was an old acquaintance, constantly lingering beside him -- not quite there, but not gone either. He could always feel its presence, a constant and painful reminder of everyone he’d lost. He could probably count them all one hand but that didn’t make it any better. Loss was loss, whether it were two people or ten. Even if his grief had stopped and started with the passing of his master all those years ago, it was still something he felt in its wholeness and in its entirety. Because that’s all Obi-Wan could do: feel. It was everything or nothing. Zero percent or one hundred.

And with you, he wished it were nothing. He wished that your sudden absence from his life was something he didn’t have to feel in every fibre of his being. It was hard enough to acknowledge and even more painful to comprehend. You were the one person he’d always just assumed would be there forever. How foolish it now seemed, he was very much aware. Everybody died -- Qui-Gon Jinn was a testament to that; as was Satine Kryze and quite literally every other person in the galaxy who’d had the pleasure of being reminded of their mortality. It was just that this was...it was you. You weren’t immortal by any means but maker, you had acted like it. The way you went about life with an air of recklessness and discontent for the rules, making even the hardest of missions into an adventure. His life had been a thousand times better since you’d come running - nay, stumbling - into it. You’d blown his entire world to bits and pieced it back together with tiny, intricate bits of yours. Filled it with chaos and laughter and a light he hadn’t felt since the days of his youth. 

Perhaps most importantly, you’d looked after one another. He would stay by your side 24/7 to make sure you kept your head screwed on your shoulders, and you would pester him to drink water and remember to eat. He would remind you when you had important missions and meetings, and in return, you’d proof-read his paper work. He remembered the first time he’d fallen asleep beside you, to wake up with a blanket wrapped around him and his boots pulled off. It was so clear in his head because it was the first time someone had ever done anything for him without asking. It became something you did often, and though he never said it, it was something he kept so close to his heart. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew you weren’t going to be around forever - he just didn’t realise that not forever was going to be a whole lot sooner that he’d anticipated. He used to make jokes about how your recklessness would one day lead to your demise. The idea of it made him feel sick now. He’d been right the entire time. He didn’t want it to be real.

None of it felt real. The whole conversation he’d had with Mace Windu about you not making it felt like a distant nightmare, something he’d tried so hard to wake up from, only to find that he was wide awake the entire fucking time. Night terrors were bad, but reality was arguably worse. 

It didn’t feel right at first, to see your chambers still filled with your stuff and your lightsaber still resting on your nightstand. Obi had been the one to put it there when you’d been taken to the infirmary, thinking you would have asked for it when you woke up - but you didn’t. It went hand-in-hand with the robes he’d hung up on your door and the get well soon, moron card he’d brought you. 

Then, they emptied your room. Took your clothes and your books and every other worldly possession you had. Your name was removed from the door to your quarters and added to the list of Jedi who had died in combat on the stone in the Temple gardens. Aside from that, any sign that you had ever walked the halls or burst into council meetings at the last minute was gone. You lived on only in his memories, your lopsided smile ingrained into his mind and contagious laugh echoing constantly in his brain. 

Throwing himself into work was the only option for Obi-Wan. He already took on a thousand things at once, but without you to help bare the weight, it became a million. If he was busy, he didn’t have time to think -- about you, or how fucking fragile everything was, or about all the ways he could have saved you. You’d slipped through his fingers, even when he’d be holding on so tightly. It wasn’t his fault. It was just...life. 

A few weeks passed, and Obi-Wan continued to push himself. Everybody noticed it -- how suddenly busy he was, how quiet he’d become, how tired he looks. Blue eyes had grown exhausted with grief and regret, strawberry blonde hair becoming longer and unrulier than was characteristic for him. When you’d died, you’d taken a tiny piece of him with you. An important part. Maybe that part had been you. 

It was on a cold Tuesday evening that he heard the four words. Sat out on the balcony of his quarters, watching Coruscant and life pass by in a blur ahead of him, a tangle of traffic and noise and a million sounds that he couldn’t quite decipher. The sky was a navy blue, cast with the tiny little glints and dots of distant planets. All worlds that you’d once promised to explore 

‘You look like shit.’  

He thought he’d imagined it at first. In fact, it wouldn’t have been the first time in the last few weeks that the sound of your voice in his head had felt clear enough to be real. Imagining things - hallucinations and echoes of the long gone - was simply part of the grieving process. A process he’d gone through countless times before. 

 The sudden appearance of you in the corner of his eye jolted him like an electric shock. Perhaps not that far off of the emotional equivalent of being hit by a bus. Or a light freighter. Or...all of those things at once. 

You were ethereal. When he’d last seen you, you’d been...tired. Now, you were smiling and radiating some sort of energy that could only be described as quintessentially you. There was not a chance in hell that a grief-induced hallucination could be so life-like, so crystal clear. Plus, why would he have imagined you like this, slightly transparent and with a blue glow surrounding you? A fitting colour for your final form, he figured. 

‘Shocked to see me?’ Your drawl continued. ‘Because if you think you’re shocked, let me tell you. One second I was napping and the next I was a fucking Force ghost. Could you imagine?’

Obi-Wan smiled softly. ‘I don’t think I could.’

‘I can float through walls, though.’ You grinned. ‘How cool is that?’

‘It’s...that’s very cool.’ He replied. ‘I don’t suppose you can hug Force ghosts?’

Obi-Wan reached his palm out towards you - slowly but surely, as though he were scared you were going to fade away all over again if he touched you. You mimicked his actions, faded blue fingertips just moments away from his. When they finally touched, they didn’t. You felt nothing. He felt a rush of cold, as though somebody had poured a bucket of cold water over him.

He didn’t fully understand the concept of Force ghosts. Studied them, sure. Understood them? Not quite. There weren’t enough Jedi texts in the galaxy to fully capture the complexity of what made somebody come back. Often, they were linked to acts of heroism, or stemming from action taken when the person was still alive. That didn’t seem like you though. You weren’t the sort of person to try to fiddle with jinxes and hijinkery that would allow you to come back once you were dead - at least not purposefully. There was certainly every chance you did it accidentally. 

 ‘Guess not.’ You murmured. ‘Sorry ‘bout that.’

The icy feeling only grew closer as you took a seat beside him. It was funny, because he thought that if he’d had the chance to reunite with you, that it would have been more emotional than this. Something filled with more feeling and grandeur. Instead, you’d just appeared, and acted as though you’d never been gone in the first place. Obi-Wan preferred it that way. 

‘I’ve missed you.’ He continued to stare blankly ahead. 

When you died, there were a thousand things he’d come up with that he’d wished he’d said. They ranged from comments about the weather to grand declarations of...how much you meant to him. All things he would never dare say to your face, and that’s probably why he came up with them. Because he would never get the chance to say them. And now, here you were, right beside him, and he had a second opportunity to get that closure -- but the words didn’t quite come. They stayed on the tip of his tongue, there, but not quite there. Even if this wasn’t quite the version of you that he imagined himself telling them to, it was still undeniably you. 

‘I should hope so.’ You tried to nudge him with your elbow, but it was just another icy jab. ‘I would say that I missed you too, but I don’t know where I’ve been.’

‘What happened between then and now?’ Obi asked. ‘Between that and this?’

‘Okay, first of all - you can say my death. Coming up with a thousand other words for it won’t undo it.’ You said. ‘And...I don’t know. I just remember blaster fire, then some darkness, and then I was here.’

‘Did it hurt?’

‘Well it didn’t tickle.’ You replied ‘It was quick, if that’s any comfort.’

‘I suppose it is.’ He murmured. 

‘You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.’ You observed. ‘I can go away if you want. I’m not sure how this whole thing works but if you want me to leave, I can go and scare Dex-’

‘- that’s the last thing I want.’ He cut you off. ‘I just..I’ve spent the last few weeks trying not to acknowledge that you’re truly gone and it’s a little hard to do that when you’re quite literally a ghost.’

‘I’m not really gone though, am I?’ You said. ‘I’m still here. Not as I’d like to be, but I’m here.’

‘So as long as you’re around to irritate me and make snide comments, you’re here.’ He smiled. ‘Whether that’s in the flesh or...in the blue.’

‘I’m sorry it happened.’ You gently sighed. ‘Not sorry that I died for the greater good but sorry it was so..sudden.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He wanted to reach across, to take your hand in his or run it down your arm - but he couldn’t. He couldn’t deal with another rush of cold in place of what used to be warm flesh. ‘It was still undeniably your most half-witted decision to date but you saved a lot of people, so I won’t hold it against you.’

‘Oh, how kind.’ You snorted. ‘I bet you’ve secretly enjoyed the peace and quiet, Kenobi.’

‘I miss it already.’

-- 

Obi-Wan woke up the next morning, still on the balcony. The air was cold -- as evidenced by his violent shivers -- and the sky had changed from navy, to a turquoise-tainted pink. The city below was moderately quiet, signalling that it was still pretty early. The only sounds were coming from traffic in the distance and the occasional whoosh of a passing jet in the sky above. He stayed like that for a moment, azure eyes clouded with some kind of apprehension as he watched the clouds slowly pass, not a care in the world for the fact it was fucking freezing. 

Last night had been real, even if there was no sign of your presence. Actually, that wasn’t quite true -- the robes he’d discarded before your appearance had been thrown over him like a blanket. They did little to protect him from the cold air, but it was a confirmation that you had been there. He wasn’t sure when you’d left - or how - but he was the only one on the balcony. 

There were a lot of questions floating about in his head. Why were you only turning up now after weeks? Why had you materialised by him? Why were you here at all? You were finally free, free to do literally whatever you wanted, and you’d wound up by his side. There were millions and millions of places in the galaxy and somehow, his balcony was the one where you’d wanted to be. 

After showering and shaving, Obi-Wan found himself heading towards the classroom of the best Jedi he knew: Yoda. If anyone was going to know anything about Force ghosts, it was him. He’d have to make sure not to let slip exactly what he was talking about - your relationship with him was far more attached than the code allowed, after all - in a more general sense, he must have had something to offer. It wasn’t the kind of thing they taught in Jedi training. If anything, it was the opposite. The lesson was don’t become attached enough to someone so that they haunt you! - and it was one at which he’d failed quite miserably. 

‘Master Kenobi.’ Yoda sat in the middle of the classroom, meditating. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. ‘Of assistance, may I be?’

‘Good morning.’ Obi-Wan greeted him with a bow. ‘I have some questions, and I was hoping you might be able to help me.’

‘Do go on. Help, I might be able to.’

‘Right.’ He cleared his throat, awkwardly taking a seat beside him. ‘What do you know about Force ghosts?’

‘Lots. Specific, you must be.’

‘Say you had a dear friend, and they died.’ He began. ‘Then they came back a little while as a Force ghost.’

‘Come back, they don’t.’ Yoda opened one eye, glancing over at him. ‘Never gone, they were. The Force takes time to manifest.’ 

‘So...the ghost version of them is still them?’

‘Very much so.’ He said. ‘Why, there are many reasons. Many Jedi study for a long time to materialise as ghosts after passing.’

‘What if they didn’t?’

‘Then unfinished business, they have.’ He replied. ‘When a Jedi dies, their Force connections do too. If they are left unbroken, exist as a ghost they will.’

Well, that explained it. 

‘Right.’ He murmured. ‘Last question, I promise - how long does that connection usually last?’

‘Months to years, it may be.’ He explained. ‘On their unfinished business, the connection depends.’

‘That makes sense.’ Obi-Wan nodded. ‘Thank you, Master Yoda.’

The little green creature simply nodded in response, turning his attention back to his meditation. He didn’t ask questions -- what was the point? He’d been around hundreds of years, and dealt with hundreds of similar things in that time. Truth be told, he didn’t have all the answers. He was just good at acting like it. 

Obi-Wan pondered on the conversation for the rest of the day. 

 There were a lot of things that could have constituted your unfinished business. The list was endless, especially given how suddenly you’d passed. Nobody knew you better than Obi-Wan, but even he struggled to decipher it. You weren’t the sort of person who would hang around for no good reason. It had to be something important -- something so pressing that you quite literally couldn’t pass away in its entirety without dealing with it. Part of him was worried that he didn’t know at all; you were always sneaking about, always doing something that you shouldn’t have been. That left a long list of possibilities. 

But Yoda had directly mentioned Force connections, right? Maybe he’d meant it in a general way, but Obi would have been a complete dumb-ass to think that the Jedi didn’t know what was going on. If the situation didn’t tell him, his seeming ability to know everything about everyone certainly would have. You were the only person he could have possibly been talking about. 

It was something he knew he had to bring up, and so he made the mental promise to himself. The best time would have been that night, when he saw you again. If he saw you again. He trusted you to return. You knew better now than to disappear forever without saying goodbye. 

And he’d been right. That evening, after he’d exchanged goodbyes with Anakin, Obi-Wan found himself wandering out to the balcony. Sure enough, you were leant against the railings, back turned to him as you peered down at the city below. The air was cold again -- maybe because it was Winter, but also maybe because of you -- and the harsh winds blew back your hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it, to feel you, but he couldn’t. A man whose love language was physical touch was sure to suffer when the person he wanted most was a fucking entity.  

‘You’re late.’ You glanced over your shoulder at him. ‘Don’t your meetings normally end at six?’

‘Anakin wanted to talk about something.’ He replied. ‘So is this your life now? Waiting for me to come home?’

You snorted. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been at the diner all day moving stuff around to confuse Dex.’

‘That’s mean.’

‘And what would you do if you were a Force ghost?’

Wait for you. Follow you.

‘Explore.’ He lied, leaning against the balcony beside you. ‘I spoke to Yoda today about...this.’ 

‘Mmm?’ 

‘He said that people who usually come back either purposefully prepared for it when they were still alive.’

‘Or?’

‘How do you know there’s an or?’

‘Because I sometimes struggled to turn on my lightsaber. You think I’m skilled enough to do this shit on purpose, Kenobi?’

‘You’re…’ brilliantly intelligent, easily the smartest person I know, ‘...clever. Don’t put yourself down.’

‘Just cut to the point.’

‘Right.’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat. ‘He said that, or that they had unfinished business. Force connections still strong enough to keep them here.’

‘So, you and me?’

‘What?’

‘Our Force connection.’ You said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘You do know what we have one, right?’

‘I...I figured we were always just...close.’ 

‘No, you dipshit.’ You shook your head with a laugh. ‘They can develop between best friends. It’s a little rare, but we’re both so strong with the Force that it just happens naturally.’ 

‘That makes sense.’ he turned to look out at the city. ‘I didn’t really have a best friend before you.’ 

You looked over at him, a smile playing on your lips. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

--

Obi-Wan quickly fell into a routine, post-you. Not post-you completely, because he still saw you every evening, but that had helped push him towards the transition. He adjusted to only seeing you after work - not in the mornings or during the day or every waking second like it used to be. Nothing was how it used to be. Not even close. You were no longer beside him during meets or climbing into bed next to him when you had nightmares. There were no more missions with you or late nights filled with paperwork and laughter. 

That was the problem. 

You were here, but you weren’t really. The ghost he saw every night had your eyes and your laugh and your personality, but it wasn’t really you. Obi-Wan couldn’t touch you; he couldn’t feel you in the same way he used to. It was like having a conversation with a figment of his imagination -- conversations of false hope and plans that would never come to fruition. Because you could banter and you could laugh and you act like things weren’t completely fucking different, but they were. You were a ghost. A ghost of yourself, a ghost of the past, a ghost of what used to be. 

It had helped the pain at first. Eased the dread of knowing that you weren’t ever going to be back, not properly. Obi-Wan had appreciated that. It made grieving a lot easier when you were technically still there to tease and jester him through the process. Knowing that his friendship was the reason you couldn’t fully let go of existing had both made it better and worse. Better, because it meant you cared for him as deeply as he did for you. Worse, because it was so open-ended. At what point would you be satisfied enough to finally let go? Would he get to say goodbye, or would you just be here forever? 

That was the problem, Obi-Wan had come to find. 

He was hopelessly in love with you - though that much was obvious - and he couldn’t deal with only having some of you. He wanted all of you, or he wanted none of you. Only being able to talk to a blue apparition of you just wasn’t enough. It was just a constant reminder that the person he loved most in the universe was gone, and that he’d never fully have you. He was kicking himself for that one. What if he’d said something to you when you were still alive? Declared his love for when he could still physically reach out to you? 

That was the thought plaguing his mind every night. With you beside him, a cold aura radiating towards him as you sat with your legs hugged to your chest. It had been a few weeks since your first appearance, and your nights together ranged from deep conversations to comfortable silence. The latter was always worse, because Obi-Wan constantly found himself teetering on the edge of saying something. It was hard, because despite everything, he found you to be more enchanting and peaceful than ever. More entrancing. 

‘Can I tell you something?’ He asked. 

‘Sure thing.’ You peered over at him. ‘You look worried. Is it serious?’

He paused for a moment. ‘Depends how you take it, I suppose.’

‘Try me.’

‘There are…’ he faltered again. ‘There are some things I regret not telling you when you were still here.’

‘I am here.’ You reminded him. 

‘No, I know that.’ He found himself unable to look at you. ‘I mean when you were here here.’

‘What’s the difference, Obi?’

‘Remember when you used to come to my bedroom at 2AM because you’d had a bad dream?’ He asked. ‘Or when you’d throw yourself into my arms after we’d been separated on long missions?’

‘Yeah.’ 

He absent-mindedly reached a hand out towards you; it went straight through you, a rush of cold shooting down his arm. ‘I can’t do that anymore.’

‘You can still talk to me.’ You urged. ‘You can still be with me-’

‘- not in the way I want.’ Not in the way I need.

‘What do you mean?’ You gently pushed.

‘You don’t need me to explain it.’ He finally looked at you, blue eyes shrouded with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. 

‘Obi-Wan, what do you think has been keeping me here?’ You asked. 

You knew. Of course you fucking knew. Try as he might to be mysterious and suave, but you could read him like a book -- and it was a shock to you that he hadn’t seen your feelings either. They were clear as day to both of you, and yet it had been easier to ignore them for the sake of your friendship, and for the sake of the code. You both always figured that you could deal with them at a later date, because that’s when you’d had a later. 

‘Just say it.’ You murmured. ‘Say that you love me too and I’ll go-’

‘- I don’t want you to go.’ He cut you off. ‘Because then you’re gone forever.’

‘And then you can move on.’ You smiled. Neither of you knew that ghosts could cry until now. 

This was the closest he would ever get to having you now. He could have just sucked it up and dealt with it, and kept you by his side in your ominous form - but would that have been fair on you? To keep you around, just because he was so full of regret over things unsaid and so full of fear over grieving? None of this was fair, on him or on you.  

‘I can’t say it.’ Obi-Wan murmured. ‘Not yet.’

‘It’s okay.’ You gave him a watery smile. ‘I know.’

Neither of you said anything else - maybe you didn’t want to, or maybe you were scared to. The fact you’d finally acknowledged the bantha in the room after years, finally admitting that love had been the driving force behind what made your friendship so good, for so long. The irony was that when you’d died, he’d wanted nothing more than for you to come back in some form. Now, he realised that it was holding him back from moving on -- and he couldn’t do that until he’d let you go. But he couldn’t do that either. 

Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, his words had been a confession. Albeit a thinly veiled one, but a confession nonetheless. It had confirmed to you the only thing you’d wanted to know before you’d passed: that he loved you back. That was all you needed. It was all you’d ever needed. 

Eventually, the Jedi beside you grew sleepy. That’s how it usually went every night -- you’d talk, he’d fall asleep beside you, and you’d cover him with a blanket and slip out to wherever it was that Force ghosts went at night. He never asked, for fear of it ruining the mystery. Obi-Wan knew that he wasn’t the only person you saw, but it was a nice thought, and one he didn’t want to taint. At least you took more mercy on him than you did with Dex, who slowly thought he was going insane at all the random objects suddenly being moved around. 

When you heard him gently snoring, you stood up. Obi-Wan looked peaceful, as though he’d finally gotten something of his chest - even though he hadn’t realised he’d done it. He hadn’t realised that it had been enough.  

You leant down beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For the first time since you’d appeared, you could finally feel his skin against yours - no cold jolts, no body parts suddenly disappearing through the other. Just your lips against his; warm and...human. 

‘Good night, Obi-Wan.’ You ran a hand through his hair, before standing up and stepping back. ‘I love you. I’ll always love you.’

He felt it. He was asleep, but he felt your lips on his and your hand in his hair, and he’d secretly smiled to himself, not entirely realising what was going on. He’d thought it was a dream, or that he was simply imagining that you could finally touch him as though you were a human, and no longer a cold, blue ghost. 

Because you weren’t. You were no longer a ghost.

Obi-Wan didn’t realise till he rose the next morning, a blanket tossed over him and the feeling of your lips still lingering on his, even hours later. He even dared to smile for a moment, before the knowledge of what he’d done hit him. He’d given you what you wanted - an unintentional confession of love. The thing you needed to finally cut off your Force connection. The only thing still tethering you to this world.

You were gone, but at least he’d finally gotten what he wanted. You. Even if it was only for a few moments.

[hangovercurse]

Mind Over Matter

A phone call at 4 in the morning turns into a very deep conversation with your good friend, Pete.

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, existential philosophy

A/N: Inspired by Mind Over Matter by PVRIS

Word Count: 1771

There was nothing you hated more than being woken up at 4am on your day off. But someone had decided that they needed to call you, so you were awake. Your hand reached around for your phone, your head not lifting from the pillow. Once you found it you brought the screen to your eyes, squinting.

You couldn’t help but feel a little less angry when you saw Pete’s contact picture. Of course it would be him calling you at 4 am.

“Hey, Pete, what’s up?” Your voice came out scratchy and hoarse, a side effect of just waking up.

You could hear his heavy breathing on the other side, and your mind immediately went into worry mode. “Y/N I’m kind of really freaked out right now.”  

You sat up on the bed, turning your lamp on, “What’s going on?” Your feet touched the cold floor of your bedroom as you stood up, stumbling tiredly to your dresser and throwing on a pair of sweatpants.

“I’m really trippin’ out right now.” You could hear how far gone he was now that you were more awake.

You sighed, stopping your rushed actions. “Pete, I thought you weren’t taking that much anymore? Remember you said you wanted to get better?”

He let out a breath, “I know, I had a bad day. But the drugs aren’t helping. Everything feels so much worse and I’m really scared. You told me to call you whenever I needed someone and I really need you.”

You tried to keep your breathing steady, so he couldn’t hear how sad you were. Pete had been working so hard to get to a good place, and he was so close. To hear him so upset crushed you. “Okay, I’m on my way over. Are you gonna be okay for a few minutes while I’m on my way over there?”

You grabbed your keys from your counter and threw on your slip-on vans. “Can you stay on the phone with me?” His voice was timid, and you frowned.

“Of course, Pete. I’m leaving my house right now.” Luckily, his house was only a few blocks down from yours, so you were there in no time. You stayed on the phone with Pete the whole time, not saying much but reassuring him you were coming.

When you got to his home, you walked around the house to Pete’s door. “Hey, Petey, I’m gonna come in, okay?” You asked through the door, hand on the handle. Your best friend gave you a small noise of confirmation, so you let yourself in. You found him sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the foot of his bed.

You walked towards him slowly, settling on the ground in front of him. You took in his appearance, the dark bags under his eyes, the tear tracks on his cheeks, the ruffled hair from him running a hand through it too much. He reached out and grabbed your hand, holding it in his. You didn’t want to force him to talk, so you sat in silence until he was ready.

“How do I know that you’re real?” He asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, squeezing his hand, “Because I’m sitting in front of you.”

He shook his head, dropping your hand and letting out a sigh. “Yeah, but how do I know that this isn’t just something I’ve made up in my head?”

You smiled, “Pete, can you tell me what you took?” You assumed he was worried you were a hallucination from shrooms.

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I mean I took shrooms but I’m not talking about that. I mean how do I know that anything is real?”

“What do you mean, Pete?” You’d only seen this side of Pete a handful of times.

He looked up at you, his eyes finding yours. “I mean like, what if everything is just in my head? Like I don’t know that you’re real, I don’t know if anything is true. What if this is just some dream I’m having and I’m gonna wake up one day and it’s gonna be gone?”

You scooted closer to the man, your arm reaching out to him. “Reach out your hand and hold mine.” He did as he was told, and you intertwined your fingers. “Can you feel that?” You asked him.

He nodded, “But what if I’m just imagining it?”

You bit your lip, trying to find a way to calm him down. “Pete, this isn’t in your head, I promise. Your brain is just in a weird place right now. I am very real.” Your voice was soft, trying not to worry him.

“But I don’t know that Y/N. All I know is that I really want this to be real.” His voice gave away how scared he really was.

You reached your free hand to touch his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his skin gently. “I need you to trust me, Petey. I am just as real as you are.”

He leaned into your touch, a soft smile on his face. “I just don’t know how you can be real. Like I had to have made you up, no one like you would be friends with a guy like me.”

You frowned, moving so you were beside Pete on your knees, and wrapped your arms around him. You didn’t really know how to respond to that, he’d never said anything like it before. “And I mean, you’re so perfect. Like I feel like such a perfect person shouldn’t exist. That’s why I’m scared that you’re just some kind of dream.”

He leaned his body into yours, his head resting on your shoulder. “I’m not a dream, Pete. I’m really here, and I’m not gonna go anywhere.” You whispered, your nose brushing the side of his head. “If I wasn’t real, could I be holding you right now?”

He pulled away from you and you could tell he was starting to come down just a little bit, hopefully enough to pull him out of his thoughts. “I don’t know.” He mumbled, looking down.

You reached up to his jaw, moving his face so that he was looking at you. Your other hand ran through his hair, causing his eyes to close. “Could I do this?”

He smiled, looking like a cat whose head was being pet. “I guess not.”

You leaned closer to him, taking in all the features you knew so well. All the features you loved. And you knew you definitely shouldn’t kiss him, but if for some reason it went really badly, he probably wouldn’t remember and at least you would know. But you didn’t want to take advantage of his state. But it was just a kiss.

“If I wasn’t real, could I do this?” You whispered, your lips millimeters away from him. You paused, looking into his eyes, trying to read his emotions. You didn’t get much of a chance though, as Pete crashed his lips onto yours, one hand going around your waist and the other to the back of your neck.

You kissed him back, your lips moving together in sync. As cliché as it sounds, it felt right. As if you and Pete had been made for this moment.

When you pulled away for air, he rested his forehead on yours. “Okay, you’re definitely not real.” He muttered, out of breath.

You smiled, rolling your eyes slightly. “Eventually you’re just gonna have to accept that I am, in fact, a real person.”

“No real person like you would kiss me.”

“Well, I just did.” You smiled, “And I’ll do it again.”

You brought your head to meet his, lips colliding once again. Pete pulled you closer to him, so you were fully on your knees. He brought his hand to the back of your thigh, pulling your leg over him so you were sitting on his lap in front of him.

“Will you stop invalidating my existence now?” You asked with a giggle. Pete smiled, nodding in response. “Do you wanna talk about why you had a bad day?”

Your hand moved to gently run up and down his arm, trying to keep him calm. “I dunno, sometimes it just kind of happens, I guess. And then I got this email from Lorne about the show next week, and Colson won’t text me back, and I just got really messed up about all of it.” You nodded, letting him continue. “I’m sorry that I took all this shit. And that I called you so late. Sorry you have to deal with all my shit.”

You frowned, tilting your head, and resting one head on his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry, Pete. You had a bad day, it happens. You took shrooms, it’s okay. Everyone relapses, its part of getting better. But Peter Michael Davidson, don’t ever apologize for needing me. I told you to call me, I want you to call me when things get bad. I’d rather you wake me up every day for the rest of my life than for you to suffer alone. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if you don’t call me.”

He nodded, and you smiled sadly at him. “You’re my best friend, Pete. I’m here for you, no matter what. People love you and care about you.” You paused, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered, leaning so his forehead was resting against yours. “Can I kiss you again?”

You chuckled, pecking his lips before moving backwards. “As much as I would love that, you’re still pretty high. We need to get you some water and some sleep and then maybe, if you still want to kiss me tomorrow, we can see.”

He pouted as you stood up, walking to grab the water bottle from his desk. When you stood in front of him, he reached up with both arms, making grabby hands at you. You held out the water bottle for him to take, but he just swatted at it. You realized what he wanted and rolled your eyes, grabbing onto his hands and pulling him up, struggling against gravity.

“Can you stay here for tonight?” He asked, looking down at you with big brown eyes.

You sighed, knowing he probably wasn’t sober enough to be making that decision. “I’ll stay, but I’m gonna sleep on the couch.” You smiled, pushing him towards his bed. He whined, but you ignored him and walked away. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” You said, shaking your head.

[morganaspendragonss]

turn to dust all that i adore

whoops it’s a 2b spec fic based on two seconds in a promo love that

title from things we lost in the fire by bastille

ao3 | 2.3k | 2b spoilers

The fire continues raging whenever TK closes his eyes, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse than the sight that greets him when his eyes are open. He wishes he could wipe that awful night from his memory completely and go back to where they were just a few days ago, happy and safe and in their home. They don’t even have that anymore, the house little more than ash, and TK would be okay with that - they could rebuild from that - if Carlos weren’t so silent and still in front of him. 

The fire was three days ago; TK hasn’t seen Carlos awake in four. He’d been in the middle of a 24-hour shift when the call came through, bickering with Nancy about the merits of various sitcoms, Captain Vega probably rolling her eyes in the back as they returned to the station. 

Nancy had quietly offered to drive when they found out the address, but TK had shaken his head. His hands were tight on the steering wheel, and he’d pressed down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator, praying he’d be able to get there fast enough. The house was a lost cause, if what dispatch said was true, but if he could save Carlos, then that would be enough.

He’d failed - of course he had. An explosion had ripped through the building just as they’d pulled up, the glass shattering as flames leapt from their bedroom window. TK had felt a cold dread settle inside him, and his worst fears had been confirmed when the team emerged with Carlos limp in their arms.

He’s alive, but the damage had been done. Too much smoke inhalation and multiple horrific burns left him hanging by a thread; it’s a miracle, really, that the heart monitor is still beeping out a steady rhythm. TK can’t be thankful, though, not when he knows everything could turn on its head in an instant. Not when they’ve already lost so much.

A soft knock on the door grabs TK’s attention. He looks up to see his dad standing there, a sad smile on his face and a plastic-wrapped sandwich in hand. TK twists his face into a grimace and returns to watching the bed.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Son -”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ve been saying that for days,” his dad points out, walking over and pointedly laying the sandwich in TK’s lap. “Starving yourself isn’t going to make him wake up any faster.”

TK barely spares the sandwich a cursory glance. “Nor is forcing myself to eat.”

His dad sighs, crossing the room and grabbing the extra chair. He sets it down next to TK’s and, though he doesn’t look, TK knows he’s being subjected to one of his ‘dad looks’.

“TK, you’ve barely left the hospital since it happened,” he says. “I know it’s hard right now, but you can always come back and stay with me. You still have a home.”

“Not without him, I don’t.”

He hears his dad’s sharp intake of breath, feels his hand running through his hair, but TK’s detached from it all. He studies Carlos’s face, every part familiar to him, but so strange and foreign now. Carlos has never been a restless sleeper - that’s all TK - but there’s usually some movement. A crease appearing between his brows as his face scrunches up, his muscles shifting as he pulls TK closer, his nose gently nuzzling the back of TK’s neck. This still version of him isn’t Carlos. This isn’t the man TK loves.

But it’s close as he’s going to get until Carlos comes back to him, and TK can’t stand the thought of leaving him. In all the months they’ve been dating, they’ve rarely spent a night apart, and most of those were either on shift or still in their bed, with a pillow that smelt like the other and the promise of seeing each other again soon. Going back to his dad’s house would only be bearable if Carlos were with him, but that’s not possible, so neither is leaving.

“TK, I -”

“If you’re just here to give me this,” he interrupts, waving the sandwich in his dad’s direction, “then, thanks, but you should probably go now. His parents are coming in a bit and the hospital barely lets three of us be in here as it is.”

His dad recoils, wounded, but doesn’t budge, much to TK’s irritation. He’s really not in the mood for any more meaningless talk or thinly veiled attempts to get him to eat or sleep.

“Dad, please.”

“I was contacted by the PD this morning,” his dad says instead. TK’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “They found out what caused the fire.”

TK waits, but his dad suddenly becomes very reticent, his eyes flicking between TK and the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t something as simple as the electrics blowing or the washing machine malfunctioning; it’s worse, and TK’s breath seems to stick in his lungs.

“Dad?” he croaks.

Their eyes finally meet, his dad’s face arranged into a sympathetic grimace. “It was arson.”

Time stops.

“What?” TK breathes, shaking his head. Arson. Someone burned their home down and almost killed Carlos, on purpose. And for what? To kill them? The only reason TK wasn’t caught up in it too, after all, is because he was fortunate enough to be on shift that night. “Do they know who?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, voice full of regret. “It’s been happening all over the city, no leads so far.”

TK sits back in his chair, a white-hot spark of anger flashing through him as he once more takes in the many bandages on Carlos’s body. He wonders if this was how Judd felt those weeks ago when he found out the guy who’d run them off the bridge was also in the hospital, because TK would very much like to go out and find the people who did this. He wants them to pay for what they’ve done to the love of his life.

As is sensing where his mind has gone, his dad starts rubbing gentle circles on his back, though it doesn’t calm TK like it usually does.

“I think I’ll stay here until his parents show up,” he says. “If that’s alright?”

It’s a non-question; his tone makes it clear that he’s not going anywhere no matter what, but TK doesn’t have it in him to put up even a token argument. He simply nods wearily, and settles in for another day of waiting - another day without his boyfriend’s comforting presence at his side.

*

A week after the fire, he’s told he can go back to the house, if he wants. He doesn’t, really, but he goes anyway, knowing that Carlos will have questions when he wakes up, and maybe he’ll be able to salvage something.

Probably not, but it’s never been the stuff that’s mattered to him. It’s been what the loss of it all represents, the memories that now exist only in his head and in the ashes.

TK stares up at the blackened husk of their home, something keeping him rooted in the middle of the street. Police tape is still up and there’s an officer waiting to escort him in when he’s ready, but TK just… He doesn’t know if he can do this.

“TK?”

He jumps at the unexpected voice, turning to see Carlos’s neighbour from two doors down, Molly, her daughter trailing behind her. TK doesn’t know many of the people around here, but Molly and her husband are often to be found playing with Lilia on the porch, and they always make a point of greeting them. Carlos has even babysat for them a few times, though TK’s rarely there for that.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says, smiling apologetically. “How are you doing?”

He shrugs. “I’m okay,” he replies, and Molly seems to understand what that really means. “Carlos is still in hospital, but we’re, um. We’re hoping he’ll wake up soon.”

She nods, glancing at the house. “It’s terrible, what happened. You’ve got somewhere to stay, right?”

“I’ve only just moved out of my dad’s place, so I’ll just go back there while we figure something out. Guess he’ll be glad we don’t have to transport all my stuff this time.”

The joke is hollow, and Molly’s face twists in sympathy. “Well, if you need anything, we’re happy to help out however we can. Carlos has always been good to us - to everyone here - and we hate that you’re going through this now. Send him our love, okay?”

TK gives her a small smile, nodding. He’s about to excuse himself to finally go inside, when Lilia tugs at her mother’s hand, whispering something in her ear when Molly leans down. 

“We were baking when we saw you pull up,” Molly explains, straightening. “Lilia insisted on bringing these out to you, didn’t you, Lils?”

Lilia beams up at him when TK looks over to her, thrusting a small tupperware in his general direction. “Cookies!” she exclaims, by way of explanation.

TK chuckles and squats so he’s at her height, taking the box from her. She’s watching him expectantly, so he takes a cookie - clumsily decorated with mountains of sprinkles - and pops it in his mouth, making a show of enjoying it.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, licking his lips playfully. Lilia giggles, then, without warning, throws her arms around him, the force of it almost sending him on his ass. Molly gasps and reaches to pull her daughter away, but TK shakes his head at her, mouthing an, It’s okay.

Steadying himself, he gently wraps his arms around Lilia’s back, allowing her to bury her face in the crook of his neck as she attempts to squeeze him within an inch of his life. It’s enough to pull a real smile out of him, though tears also spring to his eyes, a sudden emotion overwhelming him. He brushes them away hastily when Lilia unwraps herself from him, but it’s clear that Molly noticed, judging by the sad smile on her face.

“I hope Mr Carlos gets better soon,” Lilia says, her voice earnest in a way only a five-year old’s can be. 

TK nods. “Me too.”

“He gave me sweets.”

A laugh bursts out of him at the sudden comment. TK leans close to her, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Shall I tell you a secret? He gave me sweets as well.”

Lilia gasps as though she’s heard something incredibly scandalous. TK laughs again, before standing back up and turning to Molly, who’s been watching the two of them with clear amusement.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “For coming out and talking, and for the cookies.”

“It’s the least we could do,” she says, waving him off. “Like I said, let us know if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk. We’ll be there.”

TK thanks her again, waving at them both as they head back inside. He turns to his and Carlos’s place, then takes a deep, shaky breath.

He can do this.

*

Inside is much as he expects. The worst of the rubble has been cleared, but there’s still some detritus lying around, including a few of their things. TK stoops and carefully retrieves a framed photo from the floor, wiping the dust off the cracked glass. The picture inside is barely recognisable, the colours warped, but he knows the image like the back of his hand - a candid of him and Carlos taken by Marjan during one of their hangs. She’d caught Carlos mid-laugh, a grin plastered on TK’s own face as they’d stared into each others’ eyes.

Marjan had grumbled about how frustratingly lovesick they both were, but the photo quickly became one of TK’s favourites, and it had made its way into a frame less than a week later. TK’s heart aches at the sight of it ruined; he can always print another as it’s still saved on his phone, but it still hurts. Everything does, right now.

As he gazes around the space, eyes catching on mementos and remembering how it all used to look, TK is struck by how much this place had felt like home. He’s only been officially living here for a month, but it’s been theirs for far longer than that, TK’s stuff worming its way in among Carlos’s until it became natural to see two pairs of shoes by the door, two sets of keys in the bowl. 

This was theirs, and now it’s nothing.

He drops the photo frame on his way out the door, not sparing a look back as he walks away.

*

He gets the call halfway back to the hospital and TK forgets all about speed limits as he races the rest of the way. He sprints through the corridors, the path to Carlos’s room learned by heart, and skids to a stop in the doorway, his eyes filling with tears at the sight before him.

Carlos, awake and smiling and alive.

TK lets out a sob, his hand flying to his mouth. Carlos turns, his smile widening when he catches sight of him, and he wordlessly lifts his palm up in invitation.

And who is TK to refuse it?

“Hi, baby,” he gasps, before kissing his boyfriend, palms framing Carlos’s face. Carlos’s hands come up to clutch at his wrists, and TK presses their foreheads together, silently revelling in this moment.

There’s a long road still ahead of them - Carlos needs to heal, and they’ll have to do so much to get back on their feet - but he can’t care about that right now. Being here, right now, with Carlos’s warm touch stroking over his skin, is all TK needs.

Carlos came back to him, and that’s the only thing that matters.