#but then i go back to the brain fog and feeling anxious and/or guilty and/or submerging myself in genshin so i can forget about my anxieti

[abiiors]

can we get a little ross blurb where both of you are just innocently making love and you cry at the end and he comforts and praises you

(mdni, 18+ only // female reader)

okay so i've changed your prompt very slightly just because i've wanted to do a proper fluffy aftercare blurb for a bit. hope you don't mind ♡

every inch of you is covered in sweat, covered with rough kisses and hickeys and your brain is a haze. everything is happening all at once--every neuron, every pain and pleasure receptor in your body is on high alert and yet your head feels numb and so foggy.

it's been like this for minutes now--since the moment you came after being denied four times but ross is still going. although he's fucking you slower than before now, riding out his orgasm (and letting you ride out yours) by thrusting into you repeatedly.

you know how this usually ends--you collapse on top of each other, limbs tangled up and sweaty and covered in bodily fluids. you kiss, slow and gentle and intimate, and then you begin the clean up after cuddling for a bit. that is the usual. but today feels different.

your arms tremble, your thighs sting and the knot in your stomach tightens further. this doesn't feel good--none of this... just moments before you were screaming out in pleasure and now here you are, wincing and trying not to cry as he pulls out slowly.

he's saying something too--his voice is all around you, trying to penetrate the fog in your head but all you hear is snippets and broken sentences.

"...baby?...okay?"

"hey..."

and then soothing fingers trail down your spine. suddenly, you're well aware of how wet your face feels, of the salty taste on your lips and your dry mouth. oh god, it's like everything comes rushing in all at once and your arms give out from under you until you faceplant on the pillow, practically curling in on yourself and ross' worried face comes into view.

"hey, hey, darling look at me," he speaks in a hushed but rapid tone. there's sweat on his brow, on his forehead and his beard glistens with your slick but his eyes are full of concern.

"baby, what's going on? are you okay?" he asks, gently running his fingers through your hair.

you release a shaky breath and attempt to speak through the dryness in your mouth. "i'm okay, just... give me a moment."

ross nods and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead but he doesn't pull away entirely. instead he traces your features gently--first your nose, then your cupids bow, your lower lip all the way to the contours of your jaw till he's back to swiping his thumb on your eyelids and cheeks, wiping away the tears.

the roughness of the pad of his thumb is grounding. familiar. once you've composed yourself a bit, ross wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. "you sure you're okay, darling?"

well no, not entirely. the anxious knot still tightens in your stomach and you can't stop the occasional sobs and sniffles from escaping. every time you make a sound, his arms tighten around you and he buries his face in your hair, placing tiny kisses.

"you were so so good, my love. so perfect. i'm so sorry, i went too hard on you..."

your heart breaks at how worried he sounds, how guilty. "i-it's not you, i just--" you choke up slightly but clear your throat again. "just got a bit overwhelmed."

some of the rigidity in his body melts away and you feel yourself growing calmer too, a bit less shaky now that you can properly breathe once again.

"tell me what you need, darling. we can just lay here, no pressure. you've been so good for me, now let me take care of you," he murmurs, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

you manage a weak smile, and nod against his chest. "just stay with me, please. just for a bit."

"absolutely. anything else you want?"

you take a moment to think, to breathe in his scent to ground yourself further. "and can we have a bath in a bit?"

"anything for you, sweet girl," he speaks and you can finally hear a small smile in his voice.

you pull back a bit to look at him, to give him a sweet kiss and feel his strong, steady heartbeat against the palm of your hand. you're okay, you realise. you're okay as long as he's here, as long as he's holding you and cuddling you. and judging by his tight hug, he doesn't plan on letting go anytime soon.

[chronicmigrainetime]

im terrified.

I ve had this for over three years, its constant. its pain, tinnitus, noise sensitivity, the insomnia, the muscle tension, the brain fog. its the occasional immobility. the rare paralysis. its spending three days not being able to practice basic hygiene or eat

I’ve just graduated from uni. Everyone I talk to tells me that Im amazing for even getting beyond my first year with my condition (I started uni within 8 months of me getting migraine). They say I should be proud of myself and I am but

This last year was so hard. My depression is at an all time high, I wake up and go to sleep anxious. My pain was so bad. I spent 4-6 weeks bedridden and alone

How am i supposed to enter the workforce?

I know I’m capable, logically speaking I graduated with a law degree in a debilitating condition. I managed to do quite well for myself despite spending essentially 5 weeks completely incapacitated so part of me knows I’ll be okay.

I also know how bad it gets, how bad it was in the beginning, how bad it was during those weeks, how bad it was just at the end of last year, how bad it probably will be despite my every precaution.

if you have any advice Id greatly appreciate it. I know i need it.

Hi iselenris, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. It is scary, and I can understand why you would want to scream into the void about it. I have given it some thought and hopefully I can say something helpful, or at least provide some comfort that you’re not alone.

I can really relate to a lot of what you’ve said here. I became incapacitated by chronic migraines at the start of my second year of uni, had to take a year out and then came back part time. I did eventually get my degree (in physics) but it was a real struggle and incredibly detrimental to me physically and mentally.

Now you and I are both out here with prestigious degrees that we worked really hard for and that we can’t put to use. I agree that it is a tremendous accomplishment and I think you should be proud of yourself, but I also understand the hesitation to celebrate fully. We put ourselves through hell to get here, and that’s not sustainable. So what do we do now? And if we can’t do the thing we wanted to do with our degree, why did we put ourselves through all that?

It’s now two years since I graduated, and I still haven’t ‘entered the workforce’, which is maybe not the most hopeful thing to hear, but I do think in that time I have found an answer to those questions.

My answer to ‘what do I do now?’ Is to make you and your health your top priority. I get the sense that you know that this is a crisis, I think it’s a good idea to treat it as one.

I don’t know your situation so I don’t know how possible this is for you, and maybe this is a frustrating thing to hear, but my main advice on how to do this would be to stop for a while. If you keep going when your body is telling you to stop, eventually it will force you to stop, y’know? Unfortunately, stopping obviously requires outside support, but if you have that now is the time to use it. If you are in a position where you don’t have to work, don’t, and if you’re not, find something that uses the minimal amount of your energy while keeping you afloat. If you have the option of someone else making your meals, take it, if not make your meals as easy as possible. In any case my advice would be to use the time that you have stopped doing other things to:

Rest without feeling guilty, you are doing the work of healing

Unlearn the idea that your worth is tied to your ability to work, you are enough just by being you

Take note of how your body is feeling and respond to what it needs

Prioritise yourself and your body’s needs above any “shoulds” and “oughts”

When you do have the energy to do things, focus on the things that bring you joy or make you more comfortable

Learn about your condition(s) and the things that might help you

Decide what kind of medical care you want to try and get (if any), and get the ball rolling on it

How long will it take to feel well enough to come out of this recovery state? We cannot know. But I know that (thanks to a combination of all of this, and finding some medications that work for me) I am feeling better than I did a year ago, and much better than I did two years ago. I may not have ‘entered the workforce’ but most days I know I can do the work of being a person (which is not an insignificant amount of work!). On the good days I can even imagine getting a job again, and then I’m glad I did finish my degree, because I know it will still be there when the good days become frequent enough for me to use it.

If you are looking for advice on the more medical side of things I will point you to this post, this resources list, and the #ajovy tag on my blog. I can also give more specific advice on navigating medical things if you’d like, but I don’t want to do that unprompted.

I hope that some of this is helpful to you, and I hope you are able to find some improvement. Be kind to yourself

- C

[dovabunny]

Part 5 - Empty

Ghost can only stare frozen at Soap's retreating back. He can't get himself to move as his brain tries to catch up to what just happened.

As his senses filter in again he becomes aware of a few things at once.

Gaz's anxious upset voice asking Price if Soap overhead him, if it's his fault, almost pleading them to understand he only meant to lift the mood - he didn't mean for Soap to hear.

(And isn't that the problem. Johnny heard what they were really thinking.)

He hears Laswell pacing in a way he's learned is supposed to make her seem calm and contemplating, but she only does when she feels out of her depths.

Meanwhile Price is trying to convince them they didn't do anything wrong.

"He's just in an emotional place, he'll be fine."

Ghost doesn't know about that.

Not when he finally looks down and sees the blood on his hands, the droplets like deadly reminders of the pain he walked out with.

He turns and sees the blood on the dagger.

Sees what dagger it is.

Knows what it meant to Soap.

He's up and on his feet, he needs to make sure Soap is not bleeding out somewhere, he needs to-

"Sit down, Ghost!" Price stern voice cuts into the fog of his mind.

"The blood, I - We need to check on him!"

"Sit down, that's an order!"

Ghost drops back into his chair on instinct and hates himself for it.

"You seriously going to let him leave like that?"

"Soap is emotional. He needs space to calm down. When he's over it he'll come to realize he overreacted. Soldiers transfer all the time."

Gaz is nervously tugging at his sling, Laswell is too quiet.

Ghost narrows his eyes at Price.

"Why did you transfer him and not me? I never said I wanted him gone! That was your own assumption. I deserve an explanation for why you sent my Sargent away without my consent!"

Price didn't back down, matching his anger. "Mind your tone, Lieutenant. I'm still your Captain!"

A memory flickers through his mind... 'Dont raise your voice at me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer.' He feels nauseous.

He never realized how those words can completely change the way you see someone you cared for, opens your eyes to how they see you.

He remembers Johnny's tears. Hefuriously shoves that memory down.

"Still didn't answer my question. Sir." He grits out.

"The three of us were in agreement it should be him. You're a lieutenant, he's easier to replace. You've also made your displeasure with his performance well known over the past few weeks."

Ghost can't respond. He has no excuse. He just didn't realize how precautions things were.

"Besides," Price adds. "Your record is stronger. More experience, leadership, and you know how disruptive and insubordinate he can get. How many times have we had to tell him to keep it tactical on comms? How often does he interrupt meetings with useless comments or fidgeting?"

Ghost tries to take it all in. He never thought to consider what it might look like on the outside. They didn't know on their personal comms channel they were equally non-tactical in their comments, jokes, and flirting.

They saw Johnny's defiance when he didn't agree as 'insubordination' while when they were alone Ghost told him he respected Johnny's standing his ground. That was real leadership potential, but only he saw it as a problem.

And he hid it. He never praised it in front of them.

Too afraid they'll realized what was going on between them.

(He was too much of a coward. But those are not emotions and thoughts he could delve into now. Maybe not ever. If his father could see him now he would tell him he knew he was as weak as his mother.)

"I've tried to reach him yesterday," Laswell interrupts the tense silence. "To talk about his transfer. There was no answer, door wouldn't budge, and no response on his phone either. I just heard... Well." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. "All I could hear was crying."

"Maybe we should wait on a replacement, Price," Gaz adds. His voice still nervous and guilty.

"No. The sooner the better. I recommended a good team for Soap to transfer to, they agreed to take him. We need a replacement to get back out there. We cannot afford to lose face."

"They - 'agreed to take him'?" Ghost asked incredulously. "Johnny is fucking worth his weight in gold, they should be fighting over him!"

"We didn't exactly have the time to 'auction him off', Ghost. We needed it done fast, they had room. Transfers are common."

"But someone like Johnny isn't!" Ghost snapped, on his feet.

Price narrowed his eyes and stood too. "Little late to change your tune now, Ghost. I gave you enough warnings. My responsibility is with this taskforce and the trust put in us to get results."

"So would you transfer Gaz?"

Low blow. He could see it in the rage in Price's eyes and Gaz's flinch.

"If I had a fight with him, who would go?"

"That's different."

"Why! How is it different?"

"Soap will be fine. He's young and talented and he'll get over it. You should too."

The two stood their ground. But Ghost knew he wasn't in a position to fix what he did. To take anything back.

He did have one say, though.

"I'll back down on one condition. The replacement is Sargent Sanderson."

Price held his eyes for a minute till he sighed. "Very well."

Ghost didn't dignify that with an answer, just gave a nod and with only a moment's hesitation grabbed Soap's dagger before leaving.

He was able to help out Roach who was in a bad spot in his current unit, which he just found out during his visit.

But that did little to soothe the guilt he was trying to suffocate.

Because he knew Soap wasn't going to be okay. He knew the man like his own heartbeat.

He knew Johnny saw Price as the father figure he never had, whose approval and support meant the world to him.

He knew Johnny saw Gaz as the best friend he's ever had. A friend who he could trust, who was loyal, reliable, and unwavering.

And Ghost. He knew he was Johnny's first real love after he accepted his sexuality. Johnny said he was his 'sanctuary and pillar'.

Johnny loved them fiercely. Even when he should hate Ghost he remembered his birthday and brought him a gift that said he still cared.

They were his home. His family.

He knew Johnny lost more than his unit.

He lost everything.

He cursed and walked to Roach's room.

GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

[gysbil]

I envy the person who can utilise their energy to wake up and workout, who can socialize without feeling mentally drained afterwards, who find the idea of an adventure exhilarating and not scary, who can sit in public and not feel anxious, who are not shy to be themselves in front of others with the petty fear of being judged by them, who know how to start conversations and keep them going, who are able to be mindful and invested in their activities without zoning out, who participate in class and ask the 'right' questions, who can eat their favorite food and not feel guilty afterwards. And just to have a reason to spite them, I want them to please please please NOT be nice to me but, they are a good person. They are nice to me. And I cannot hate them. I just want to be like them...

I just want to be like them and not me. Because being me is exhausting. Being me means to spend all of your energy just to get out of bed, just to take a bite out of that breakfast, just to show up for class, just to be able to sit through it and not ask the 'right' questions because my brain is fogged and my thoughts are blurred and my heart is heavy, just to be able to say good morning! and see you tomorrow! to a friend or two, just to be able to get back to bed, just to be able to go back to sleep.

🌙 | the unfiltered self at 3 a.m

[drabbles-mc]

Let Me In

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜

Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

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Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.

The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.

EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.

“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.

He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”

She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”

Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”

He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”

Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”

EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.

When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.

You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.

You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.

“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”

“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.

There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”

You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.

You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.

“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”

“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.

You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”

“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.

You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”

“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.

It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”

“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”

You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”

“Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea.”

You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.

When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.

You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.

Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.

Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.

The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.

You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.

“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him

He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”

You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”

He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”

You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.

“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.

He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”

“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.

“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”

He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”

You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”

One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he’d shown up on your doorstep.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

You’re Scaring Me- Prompt Fill

Jon is out of town somewhere in the nebulous future of a happy ending, and Martin is having a rough time.

cw isolation, guilt, references to child abuse, negative self talk, mentions of the Lonely, panic attacks

I am still accepting bingo prompts! Still have a couple outlined but not written/posted, and a few that still need requests (send me a character and let me know if you want a drawing or a fic (drawings happen much faster)). Have a lovely day!!!!!

Alone.  

Martin knows that isn’t true.  Not really.  He could be talking to Jon in a matter of seconds.  He knows.  He does.  That Jon would pick up the phone without hesitation no matter where he is.  Jon is just gone for a few days.  Taking in a few museums and bookshops during a short university break.  Well deserved, because Jon has been working his ass off, trying to keep up with grading and coaxing students to turn things in on time.  

Martin would have gone if he didn’t still have work.  

In any case.  

Technically Martin is alone.  And that should be fine.  It is fine.  

It’s been years since the Lonely.

He shouldn’t be feeling like this.  He shouldn’t need someone with him to feel like a person.  He shouldn’t need Tim to drop in and check on him.  And, yes he does want to see Tim, but... this feels more like he needs a babysitter.  And he doesn’t want to put Tim out.  

Martin presses himself into the couch.  He should get a blanket.  Preferably his heated blanket.  But.  That feels like cheating.  

He closes his eyes as he exhales, afraid of the puff of fog that might escape him.  Better he doesn’t see.  

He doesn’t really want to see anyone right now.  It sounds like a lot more effort than he has energy.  Numb limbs heavy on a faded couch.  

Faded?  Is it really that dull a color?  Or has the brightness gone with Jon?  

Heh.  Jon really is the light of his life, he supposes.  What a stupid sappy stereotype.  

He disgusts himself.  

Why would Jon want to come back to this flat?  It’s too cold, anyways.  

He doesn’t want Tim to come to dinner.  He doesn’t have the energy to shower.  He should shower before he goes out.  He knows he isn’t smelling the freshest.  Is the salt on his skin and his lips from the clammy sweat that clings to him as his anxious thoughts writhe, or is it the salt spray of the Lonely?   Either way.  He is sticky and salty.  And not fit for dinner.  Not alone and certainly not with anyone else.  

He’ll pull the life out of Tim.  The warmth.  He shouldn’t subject Tim to his mood and what his mood can do when he’s like this.  

He shifts on the warn fabric of the couch.  Drawing himself inwards.  

Trying to find warmth in his core but just making himself a small, cold lump.  

Pluto, abandoned, and frozen, and ignored.  

With icy fingers that his phone hardly recognizes, he texts Tim to cancel.  

Tim curses when he gets the text.  He isn’t surprised to get it.  But that doesn’t stop his heart from juddering.  

“Sash, I’m going over.  You coming?”

“Hurry up, Stoker, I’m already out the door.”

She is, and Tim scrambles to catch up.  

He doesn’t want to admit how tightly he holds her hand on the tube.

The apartment door is cool to the touch.  

As it should be, Tim’s fire-fighter brain supplies.  But this is a little too cold.

A little frosty.  The door knob mottled by the cold.  

He knocks.  Loudly.  Shave-and-a-haircut.  “Martin?”

Martin knows it’s Tim.  Intellectually, he knows it has to be.  That’s how Tim always knocks.  But it jolts Martin out of the cold ball he has made himself into, and …nowhere.  

Part of him is shoved against a wall with Jane Prentiss banging on the door.  Part of him is pierced by the guilt that Tim has come all this way just for him and that he is stupid and needy and worthless for needing looking after, just a parade of guilt and isolation because he never learned how to grow up.  Part of him is back in his closet hands over his ears as his parents fought, then barged in to give him an apology that never really apologized, just made him feel like he’d done wrong or that no matter how tidy and quiet he was he would never be worthy or clean.  And part of him is still on a distant beach.  Distant in distance and emotion.  

And he can’t breathe.  

Memories in his lungs.  

Guilt in his throat.  

Coughing and choking on the chilly air, too busy drowning to even call out to the Tim shaped life preserver banging on his door.  His hands going numb and his muscles spasming.  

Useless.  Can’t go a weekend without Jon without a panic attack.  Stupid.  Codependent.  Needy.  Clingy.  Worthless excuse for an adult.  Can’t be a person for a single weekend.  

Tim unlocks the door without getting a response.  Of course he has a key.    

He can’t say he’s surprised to find Martin hyperventilating and crying silently on the couch in a slightly foggy flat.  He would like to have been surprised by this… but he isn’t.  

Martin’s been having a rough go of it recently.  Becoming and EMT means less time at home and with Jon.  Less time to see his therapist.  And Tim knows Martin has talked to Jon about this, and to his therapist, and to Tim and to Sasha, but that doesn’t help the reality of this.  Martin is worn thin, and he knows it too, which is why Tim and Sasha were going to visit with him anyhow.  

“Hey, buddy?”  Tim eases himself closer to Martin.  

Sasha is… not the most comfortable getting cried on.  She prefers doing things to provide comfort not actually physically being there.  She’s done it for Tim a few times, but she prefers showing her love in other ways.  Like with a favorite meal.  Or pirating a favorite movie.  Or buying interesting rocks.  Little ways to show love without… getting damp or snotty.  Tim knows this, and figures she has slipped off to fetch Martin’s electric blanket, and start the kettle on the hob, and send a text to Jon, saying something to the effect of: please call.  

Tim is all for damp hugs.  He is all for clinging to someone like they are the last hope in the world, or as if he can hold that person together as the world tries to shake them to pieces.  He’s done that with Jon in the distant past… and the very recent past.  He’s done that with Sasha a few times, but not as often.  And he has done that with Martin… just as he does this time.  

Asking permission, of course.  

Getting a jerky nod in answer to ‘is touch okay?’  

He gathers Martin into his arms.  He knows how much pressure Martin likes.  He might not be as good a hugger as Martin, but he likes to think he’s a close second (with Sasha coming in third, and Jon in last place.  Those noodle arms of his docking points).  

“Buddy, can you breathe for me?”

Martin shakes his head, gasping some things that certainly don’t quite count as breaths.  

“Martin, you’re scaring me, please take a breath?”  Tim keeps murmuring to him for several minutes before it seems like Martin is getting any oxygen to his brain.  But, Tim supposes, since he hasn’t passed out, he’s probably managing.  “That’s really, really good, bud.  Think you can manage some grounding exercises?  Either that or I tell Sash to find you a lemon.  Not the old school name for sexy time fan fiction, but an actual lemon.  I read somewhere that biting one can help stop a panic attack, but I keep forgetting to try it.  Do you wanna try that?  Or should we stick with the more conventional?”  

Martin signs he wants the grounding exercises.  

Tim huffs a laugh.  Martin isn’t the biggest fan of lemon.  “We can try that one another time.  Can you name five things you can see?”

Martin signs “Couch, you, my hands, the ceiling, the coffee table.”

Tim presses a kiss to the top of his head.  “Good.  Now four things you can feel?  Or is it four you can hear and three you can feel?  Fucked if I know.  You’d think I would know this after doing it every few weeks.  You’d have to ask Sash or Jon.  Just… uh go with the first one.  I guess.  Buddy, you are doing great.”

Martin’s hands are clumsy and shaky and never were the best at BSL, but Tim can understand him well enough.  He names four of each just to be safe.  And it does help calm him down…. but Tim is pretty sure he loses Martin to his mind not long after.  

Martin staring blankly at the ceiling as Tim runs a hand through his hair.  He isn’t as into it as Jon is, but Martin seems to like it.  

He’s warmed up enough to start shivering, which Tim is pretty sure is a good thing.  Right?  When you stop shivering is when you should worry about hypothermia.  Plus, he has the electric blanket that Sasha found, and some tea, so he’s probably doing better.  

And Sash convinced Jon to start back home.  Yeah Martin will probably feel guilty about it, but Jon wouldn’t forgive them if they didn’t keep him posted about Martin’s wellbeing.  

Martin must have fallen asleep.  Or… did he just go all space cadet on Tim and Sasha?  …He shouldn’t have done that.  If he hadn’t canceled their plans, they would have all had a nice evening even if they were babysitting a grown man….

Shut up Martin inner monologue!  

He takes a few deep breaths before he can spiral again.  

He opens his eyes to see Jon curled against his chest.  And Martin half on top of Tim, and Sasha curled up against Jon.  

Martin is exhausted.  Panicking having sucked any life in him away hours ago.  He can’t bring himself to move.  He can’t even bring himself to pay attention to the movie that he is sure is his favorite that is playing quietly on the television.  He breathes deep the smell of Jon’s conditioner.  The smell of Tim’s deodorant.  The softest hint of Sasha’s lip balm.  And he tucks the electric blanket a little tighter around himself, and lets himself rest.  

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 12

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, anxiety 

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N stood in her bedroom considering Daniel’s words. Clueless. God, the word itself stung coming from someone she had grown to see as a big brother. Clueless. Well, sure, she did not exactly know what happened behind closed doors with both the Stan family and Forrest family business but neither did Daniel, or at least as well as he bragged to know. She had heard both families were cruel but in all honesty, she just couldn’t imagine any of the heads of both families being those monsters people spoke of. She specially could not imagine Sebastian to be the monster Dan wanted to paint him, no. He had kind eyes, he didn’t have the type of darkness that she had seen in various other lesser associates, he had peaceful ones like the sea after a storm. Besides, Y/N liked to consider herself a good judge of character so maybe Dan was just being overprotective.

Annoyed, she huffed, turning on her side with her phone on her hand as she searched for the contact she wanted to call. She took her phone up to her ear, hearing the dialling tone for what felt for ages until the familiar operator voice came through. The number you have dialled is unavailable, please leave your message at the sound of the tone.

     - Hi Sebastian, it’s Y/N. I just ... I just wanted to check on you, to see if you’re alright. Give me a call when you can. Okay ... bye. 

She sighed, throwing her phone to the side table before getting under her duvet, her mind finally getting time to wrap around what had happened days prior. Why didn’t she feel guilty she had kissed a very engaged man? She always thought that cheating was a terrible thing to do to someone yet right now all she could think about was that maybe ... maybe she would be able to do it again. It wasn’t right but he was just so electric, magnetic even and his words echoed in her mind like a drum ... I’m here for you, no one can harm you. 

Sure, she had protection at most times considering Elias and Christian, whenever not in Gwen’s bedroom, were constantly around ensuring that no one got in or out of the house without permission or reason to do. However, protection from Sebastian sounded ... sweeter, warmer even. No man had ever told her they were there for her, much less they would fight their own wife for her (this mostly due to her preference at avoiding married men). It was unfair, very unfair that the very first time she felt seen and protected ... maybe even fully appreciated was by someone she just couldn’t have.

As her mind raced through various excuses as to why she kissed the mob boss, the sleepless nights caught up to her and soon she found herself surrounded by the familiar darkness of slumber. She woke up once again with the sun beams cutting through her window and decided that maybe right now what she needed was a good amount of food.

Going down the stairs, the familiar sight of Amelia in the kitchen preparing a fresh brew of coffee made her sleepily smile. This was the normality and home life she needed after all of Paris’ events. 

    - Good morning, Miss Y/N. How was Paris? - she turned on the kettle at the sight of the handmaid to prepare her favourite infusion. 

    - Paris was lovely. - she smiled softly, not pulling too much at the skin of her cheeks as she sat on the high chairs. - Do you think I could have some grilled cheese this morning?

   - You can have whatever you want, Miss Y/N. It is always a pleasure to cook for you. - Y/N couldn’t help but smile wider at that statement. It felt nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t about to married to a mob boss, a mob boss, associates or bodyguards. - You look different.

    - How so? - she raised an eyebrow at the statement. Oh god, had Gwen discovered she kissed her husband to be and cut her hair in disdain? 

    - I don’t know ... there’s a spring in your step, you look very happy. Might there be someone in Paris? - yeah, sure, he is in Paris, he’s just not her someone, he’s Gwen’s. - Maybe it’s the European air.

   - Maybe ... You wouldn’t know when Mr. Stan is coming back, would you?

   - I don’t know, Miss. Mr. Stan shows up when he wants, never leaves a message, he’s just like his father in that sense. 

   - Did you know his father? - Y/N had never actually known his father but from what she heard from Gwen he was a tall, stern man who managed to put fear and respect in everyone’s hearts without giving it much of a try.

   - Just between us both Miss Y/N, I am very glad he only resembles his father in that sense. No man should be that comfortable with death and power and not fear it all the time. - she shrugged, flipping the sandwich on the skillet. - If I must say, I think Mr. Stan is much more like his mother. I’ve always said this house needed another kind woman after she left. 

   - I just can’t picture it. - Y/N didn’t exactly knew who Sebastian’s mother was. In all honesty, not a lot of people knew and Sebastian wasn’t one for big speeches about his family. However, she had always pictured him as being much more like his father, a powerful man. - He doesn’t really talk about his family. 

   - What about you, Miss Y/N? What about your parents?

   - Oh ... - she toyed with the chain of her necklace, slightly bitting her lip. - I don’t really know. Mr. Forrest told me my father was one of his workers, never told me much about my mother either. They died shortly after I was born. 

   - I’m very sorry, Miss Y/N. - Amelia slid her the grilled cheese on a nice porcelain plate. - I’m sure that they would be very proud of creating such a nice, beautiful lady. 

   - Thank you, Amelia. 

   - Oh ... good morning, Mr. Daniel. - she pipped up and Y/N rolled her eyes, not in the mood to speak with Daniel after last night’s events. He, however, had other plans as he sat right next to her. 

   - Good morning, Y/N. 

   - Good morning, Daniel. - she slid away from him. 

   - Oh c’mon, you’re not gonna sulk at me are you? - he poked her arm with one of the forks that had been laid out to him. - You know I’m sorry.  

    - You’re always sorry but you never actually say it. - Y/N huffed, grabbing her plate from the table and walking up to the sink. Dan sighed, knowing that, despite her being generally a kind and forgiving woman, whenever she was upset, she just remained upset for a while before forgetting it. However, this could take ages. 

Y/N decided she was still not ready to deal with Daniel or any of his opinions towards her view of the people she surrounded herself with. In all honesty, she had no time to worry about him or what he thought of her as her mind was filled with worry towards Sebastian. She knew he was notoriously hard to harm or even shot at however she hadn’t gotten a reply to her call and knew nothing of when he was about to return.

The days passed by and Daniel had managed to somehow get Y/N to get less mad at him by taking her to see his daughter. Sophie had been born while he was at university and Y/N had grown very attached to the little girl as she had been at home with Gwen when she was born. However, not even young Sophie could take her mind away from Sebastian. Her brain had quit making her feel guilty about the fact she had kissed the man who was to marry the only friend she ever knew and had instead turned all its efforts into making her picture all the horrific things that could happen to him. She knew it was reckless and pointless to worry about him, he clearly seemed to be invisible at what he did and part of her pitied the poor unfortunate souls who had dared to shot at him. 

Those days turned into weeks and as the third week hit mark, she was absolutely unconsolable. Gwen was not much help. In actuality, the heiress was rather happy that her fiancé wasn’t around as this gave her plenty of free time to do what she wanted with her newly found interest in her private bodyguard, Christian. Meanwhile, Y/N had taken to spending her days in the kitchen with Amelia and in the library, but not even that could take her mind off if he was alright despite Amelia and Elias constantly telling her it was normal of Sebastian to disappear and then suddenly return. 

Nevertheless, Y/N was anxious about his fate, spending most of the night sat by the window, listening as the rain fell down on the bright city that never slept. This was one of those nights where her fingers lingered on the fogged rainy windows, lightly doodling. This quickly grew tired-some and, wrapped around in one of the very expensive white cashmere blankets Sebastian had placed around the house, she went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mindlessly, like a movement so familiar it didn’t need her attention, Y/N put some almond milk, cinnamon and honey in a pot and brought it up to the heat before taking to slowly mix it with a wooden spoon.

The sound of the bubbling milk and rain was enough to make her feel like every corner of the world was home and as she poured the mixture into a mug, she softly smiled at the overview of New York from the countless amount of ceiling length windows. It almost made her forget her worries. Almost. The heart warming atmosphere was interrupted by the ring of the lift that gave way into the entrance of the penthouse. Y/N turned around abruptly, the sight bringing a sparkle to her eyes. Placing the mug on the first surface she came in contact with, she rushed to the entrance, wrapping her arms around the mob boss as if they had been separated for over 10 years. 

   - Night, angel. - Sebastian was tired and that was noticeable by the dark bags under his eyes and his dishevelled appearance. However, he could surely get used to having Y/N wrap her arms around him every time he came home. Y/N, on the other hand, came to her senses and stepped back, feeling the heat coming to her cheeks. 

    - We were worried about you. - she shifted her weight from feet to feet.

    - Who’s we, angel? I’d gather we would mean you. - his hand traced down her forearm to her hand, softly holding it on his. - I’m sorry I didn’t answer your message, I didn’t want to lie to you as to when I’d be back. Besides, I assumed Gwen would enjoy a holiday from me. 

    - You could’ve said something. - she rubbed the side of her neck, eyes fixated on the ground. - I was worried. 

    - Ah ... - he smirked, taking a step forward. - You were worried. That was what I wanted to hear. 

    - Well, I ... I just wanted to know so I could warn Gwen. I shouldn’t bother you anymore, you must want to rest. I can fix you something to eat if you want. 

    - You’re not the housemaid, Y/N. Although something smells really good in here. 

    -  Oh ... - Y/N rushed into the kitchen, turning off the hob and bringing the pot back to one of the metal bases in the kitchen. - It’s just something me, Gwen, and Dan used to have when we were little and couldn’t sleep. 

   - What’s wrong? - Sebastian noticed the shift in her tone.

   - Do you think I’m clueless? - she leaned onto the kitchen’s wall. 

   - Why do you ask?

   - Dan seems to think I’m clueless. 

   - Daniel Forrest? - he asked and Y/N nodded. - What does he know of the world to make assumptions?

   - He’s sort of right. - Y/N took a place on the chair next to his. - I don’t exactly know what Mr. Forrest or you do, specifically. I don’t even know what you were up to these past weeks. 

   - It’s entirely way too boring besides I’d rather be surrounded by clueless people than the ones I’m surrounded by. You really shouldn’t worry about what he thinks of you. 

  - Do you worry what others think of you?

  - I’ve lived long enough to have certain names hauled at me. Some deserving, some undeserving but I tend not to stress about it. My mother used to say people like to talk about those they can’t be. 

  - Well, if it’s any worth .. I don’t think half the names I’ve heard given to you do actually have any truth to them. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld​ @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan​

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 22

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21

Hope everyone is keeping themselves mentally/physically well... here’s the next update in your adventure. Please safely read from home ;) 

The sun moved slowly up my window, illuminating the dancing dust in the air. Even though I knew dust didn’t have feelings, it all still looked very peaceful, suspended there in space. 

 I wanted to be suspended, floating, with no obligations or pressures. 

 Instead, I watched time slip by, slowly, as the shadows stretched along my floor and I lay still, wrapped in a giant Winnie-the-Pooh sheets burrito. 

I called in sick the past three days to work and to all my classes, my lack of attendance probably dropping me a letter grade in a few classes. Instead of checking on my academic scholarship, I begged Renny to drop off Dr. Rhinecuff’s papers for me. She did, lamenting about how his office smelled like roast beef and how she probably needed a nose job from it shrivelling up from the stench. Tired, I sent her three hearts, ignoring all of her calls and voicemails. 

 In a random bout of restless energy, I looked up the University of Oxford in England. No one would know me there. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing when you didn’t even know yourself. I stayed on their site for an hour, avoiding my take-home assignments, and speculating which classes I could take in the spring semester. My eyes grew tired though, and even if I were accepted as a transfer student, it wasn’t like I could ever afford it without scholarships. 

 I closed the computer. 

 It’d been cloudy, rainy. The random storm that’d come in from Mexico lasted longer than the usual morning fog that’d roll in and out by the time it was 9 AM. This storm lingered, heavy, full clouds looking to burst and unleash a steady rain for three to four hours before the clouds rested, storing up all they could until the next downpour. 

 My parents didn’t question me when I came in, used to my random visits. But when I went straight to my room without saying hello, rain-plastered hair covering puffy eyes, my mom basically collapsed at the sight. 

 She followed me to the bed, trying to see my face, but I buried it in the pillow, ignoring the way the purple fringe tickled my nose. 

 “What’s wrong sweetheart?” 

 I just groaned. Her voice was too gentle, too well-intending for the dark thoughts sitting in my mind. She’d be heartbroken if she heard them. 

 She huffed, not out of annoyance, but distress. “What’s bothering you?? Is it Renny? Did you breakup with Harry?” All those reasons were too simple. She ran her hands lightly along my legs, but I cringed away from her touch. It was something I rarely did. She paused. “You can tell me anything...” 

 I shook my head against the pillow, my last attempt to tell her to leave without speaking. She waited a moment longer. 

 “Okay,” she said. And that was it. 

 Father didn’t ask questions, not even when I was here for the third consecutive day. Mom had probably come to her own conclusions, and shared them with him. 

 “Mom said you aren’t feeling too well,” he said over cereal one morning, confirming my suspicions. It was the first time he’d broken our three-day spree of comfortable silence. 

 “What else did she tell you?” 

 He shrugged his shoulders, his usual buoyant self replaced with a quiet voice. He looked at me, and all I saw was pity. If I were him, I’d probably look at me the same way. I hadn’t showered in a while. “Well don’t let anything get you down. You’re too smart for that.”

 He’d tried. He’d put in an effort. I just nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal. He followed suit. 

 And that was that.  

 A week passed like this. 

 But overnight, the clouds had blown away, and the sun came back full-force this morning just in time for the weekend, renewing my guilt. That traitor. 

 I’d cried all of Monday and Tuesday, but when the last tear was shed in the middle of a New Girl episode, I was empty. My tears didn’t leave anything to replace them with. 

 On Wednesday, a phone alarm reminded me I had a therapy appointment. I hit snooze multiple times. It was only when I got up to pee, and I hated what I saw in the mirror that I threw on an oversized sweater to go over my pajamas and headed out the door. 

 “Is it good?” I asked. 

 Her hands reviewed my wants list.  

 “That’s just a coffee stain on the corner..just...ignore that bit,” I added. 

 She surveyed it briefly, not really focusing on it. “Were you honest?”

 I nodded.

 “Then there isn’t good or bad. It’s just your truth.”

 “But I still feel… I don’t know. I don’t think I know what that is. I don’t feel like I’m… progressing. Doing anything towards that,” I said. 

 She looked at me with a level gaze. “Then that’s your truth. And that’s okay for right now.”

 I shot her a glance.

 “I see a common struggle with people your age. They feel this….” -She adjusted, quirking her head- “immense pressure to be perfect, to figure it all out, to achieve success so early.” 

 “Everyone’s doing it,” I began. “They’re getting internships, keeping up their grades, involved in ten clubs, doing community service…” I could’ve droned on, but didn’t. 

 “You have an internship, your grades are good, you’ve joined a sorority, and up until recently you’ve been involved in tutoring. Those are extracurriculars.” 

 I couldn’t argue with her. 

 “Is it too much?” she asked.

 Too much. It was everything I’d been feeling until I’d felt nothing. But hearing her list off what was waiting for me just beyond her doors made me feel the weight of it all over again. 

 “I’ve just been overwhelmed.” 

 “Who have you been thinking about?” 

 She noticed I started picking my hangnail. 

 She started gently, knowingly. “Has it been Harry?” 

 “Ow,” I cursed. A bit of blood prickled up where the hangnail used to be. 

 “He seems to be a major stressor in your life. Would you agree?” The clock ticked behind her, filling the silence. Her hands rested in her lap, while mine swiped away the bit of blood. I could never remember my therapist’s name, but somehow it wasn’t important. 

 “Yeah, but … I mean …. there’s a lot of stressors.”

 “Like his friends?”

 His friends, in the abbreviated story I’d told her, stood in place for the gang. I’d used terms like … intimidating, mean, basically painting them as bullies who didn’t like us together. I wasn’t expecting to get much therapy from a lie. “Out of curiosity, if I were to tell you something… would you be obligated to report it to the police?” 

 “Not necessarily.” Her legs crossed, creased brows zeroing in with a laser focus. “Has something happened to you, Y/N?”

 I swallowed hard, the truth lodged in my throat. But I had gotten too used to the weight of the secret. “I was just curious…” My mind raced to change the subject, and I blurted about Zayn’s art show. 

 “Do you think this panic attack was induced by this heightened sense of scrutiny from Harry’s friends?” 

 “Probably.” 

 “You said there were others. What are your main stressors?’ 

 I settled in, more comfortable with this question. “There’s financial stressors, for one. And it’s exasperated here.” 

 “You’ve been dealing with financial difficulties for a while, now. Have you been feeling this anxious the entire time, or has it been recent?” 

 My foot tapped impatiently. We both knew the answer.

 “Your panic attack was a first,” she explained, gently. “Some new factor in your life pushed you there.” 

 I picked at the hangnail, wincing. It was gone. My skin was raw. 

 “Maybe it all links back to Harry.” She waited a moment to see if I’d speak. When I didn’t, she leant back, and pulled out a new sheet of paper, scribbling something down. “I want you to write a pros and cons list about your relationship with him, for next time. When your feelings are overwhelming, it helps to get everything on paper. In a list. Puts things in perspective.” 

 I drove home, her words had pushed themselves into my empty shell and now they clinked around, jostling up my insides like a pinball machine and giving me a headache. 

 Just because I hadn’t left the house all week didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty for ditching work. God, I did. It killed me. I knew I was lucky to get that internship. Harry had mentioned how people killed just to get on the waitlist, and I didn’t doubt it. An OC internship with, if not the top, at least the most publicized private practice? I mean, I was typing in appointments next to a Southern Stanford grad if that speaks to the competition here. 

 And here I was, retreating back to my house, too drained to face the world. 

 As for Harry, after what I’d said to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to talk to me ever again. 

 I’d been so cruel. 

 I was weak.  

 I felt guilty for feeling this way at all. 

 And then I would watch the dust again.

 It was a cycle. 

 About three blocks from my house on my way back from the therapist session, a familiar car passed me. It happened suddenly, unexpectedly, like most things do. We made eye contact before he passed, and my foot instantly lifted off the gas when my eyes connected with my brain. I whipped my head around but the matte black maserati sped up, disappearing from sight. 

 What was Harry doing this far from campus? 

 My heart beat erratically as I pulled into the driveway, and it was only seconds before I made it into the house. Father held up a hand in Grandpa’s old room. Phone call. Trudging silently to my own, I wrapped myself in a blanket burrito. 

 I’d been avoiding my phone, but I caved this time, checking J’s social media to see if he’d posted anything about being in the area to prove I WASN’T crazy and DIDN’T just hallucinate. Nothing. I tossed my phone on the other side of the room before I spiralled.  

 It didn’t matter. I was in my room. Alone. Safe. I focused on the dust. 

 Two little knocks disrupted my exciting mind game - which dust particle would fall further than the other. 

 “You’re turning ripe,” Father noted. His briefcase was still in his hand and he was coming startlingly close to my depression burrito. 

 “What are you doing-!?” I protested. But it was too late. He ripped the sheets off, exposing me in the t-shirt I’d been in since Monday. “Your mood won’t change if you don’t make an effort.

Come on.”

 “Where are we going?”

 “You’re coming to the water with me.” He hesitated at the door. “Shower first.” 

 In the car, a sense of comfort washed over me. He’d been right. Clean wet hair smelled nice and felt good slicked around my head. Even if Mom would complain I’d “catch cold,” it felt good to feel something. Dad’s speakers switched between classic rock and reggaeton as I sipped on the chocolate shake we picked up from the Shake Shack. It was a short drive away to the harbor, and once parked, a shorter walk to the public docks. 

 Our feet dangled above the water. It was too cold to go swimming this time of year, but my body buzzed with yearning despite the goosebumps on my skin. I wanted to feel encompassed by salty water. I wanted to be submerged, where everything was muted, a barrier between me and the world. Between my wet hair and the icy shake, I could pretend my body was as cool as the water below me. I could just…. dissolve. 

 “So what’s going on?” he opened up the conversation. “You having a hard time at school?” 

 “I don’t like the sorority.” 

 His brows raised, not expecting me to be so honest so soon. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, don’t you hate that shit?” 

 I looked at him, almost shocked he’d agreed with me. 

 The boats squeaked as they rocked with the rolling tides coming in from the ocean. I watched as a duffy boat wandered to the end of the jetty - where the harbor opened to the ocean. I took another big gulp of my shake, feeling the cold run down, freezing my esophagus. 

 “I liked frats, but sororities are different,” he mumbled, spooning his shake into his mouth. He’d gotten his usual Neapolitan, and it’d somehow stayed solid on the drive over. We hadn’t been to the Shake Shack in years, but I guess seeing his daughter waste away beneath her comforter was enough to break the dry spell. 

 “Why? Because its girls?” My lips were breaking into a smile without my consent. He didn’t make sense. 

 “They’re more catty.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

 “Dad! That’s verging on sexist.” 

 “Eh, I don’t know. I’m just saying things. Did you tell Mom you want to quit?” 

 I shook my head. 

 “Yeah…” he looked out at the boats, a quiet understanding passing between us. “She was really excited for you to join.” 

 “It’s not all bad…” 

 “Well if it’s not making you happy, don’t do it. Your mom doesn’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do. I was in a frat to shoot the shit with friends and it was something fun to do instead of study. If it’s not something fun for you, drop it.” 

 I could hear the words he was telling me, but it was like they were rolling off my shoulders, not really penetrating. He made it sound so easy, but it seemed like it was a million times harder than that. Everything was entangled, just as Harry had said. Not to mention Renny. If I quit, I felt like I’d lose her forever, too. I knew I could use a better friend, but that couldn’t erase the years of memories we had together. Losing Renny would feel like losing a part of myself. Not that I knew who that was anymore. 

 “Dad?” I asked. The question that'd weighed on my mind ever since I got home rested on the tip of my tongue. 

 “Yeah?” 

 “This is going to sound weird, but did you see Harry today?” 

 “Yeah. He stopped by,” he said, casually, spooning another mouthful. 

 I practically choked. “What? Why?! Weren’t you going to tell me?” 

 “Y/N, I’m working. I have a thousand things bouncing around in my head all the time.”

 “And?!!?”

 Harry couldn’t reach out to me beforehand? He drove by but- what? Didn’t even want to see me? 

 He sighed, not understanding the urgency. “He just stopped by, said hi. That’s all.” 

 My brows stitched. “Why would he say hi to you? What’d he say, exactly?” 

 “Oh, come on, I don’t know. I can’t remember-”

 “Dad!” 

 “All right, all right. Hi, how are you…” -his brain tried to remember- “he asked if you were doing okay. Then he left. He was nearby for a family brunch or something.” 

 “He asked about me?” 

 “Yeah. I mean, he didn’t go on and on, he just asked a question. He was in a rush.” 

 The shake froze me from the inside, and the breeze froze me from the out. But while I shriveled into myself, my guilt grew. “Dad?” 

 He hummed. 

 “Why are people so fake?” 

 He looked out at the harbor, peaceful for a winter’s morning. Only one small fishing boat headed towards the harbor’s edge, the sole fisherman at the helm facing the wind with the grace of a husband dealing with a temperamental spouse. 

 Father looked to our shoes as a random swell came, the water rising perilously close to our soles. Then, with all the untapped wisdom I seldom remembered parents had, “People are fake because they don’t know who they are,” he said.

 He got a call from the restaurant and drove us home. 

 In bed the next day, I ignored the pros/cons assignment, watching New Girl and making collages of Oxford in a word document until my eyes were burning from blue light exposure. I knew I was pushing it staying this long away from school, away from my problems. I was pushing myself, seeing how far my apathy could go. I woke up Thursday night at 2 AM from the rain pouring against my shutter and anger pricking my insides. 

 Harry was the reason I was in this position. As well as Viv, who fucked Harry. And Kiki, who gave me a DG Pretty Please, that just so happened to involve Harry. 

 I wanted him, but I wanted him to fuck off. Nothing was changing. Nothing was getting better. 

 It was all Harry, Harry, Harry, and no matter what, I ended up feeling insane.  

 At one point, I was going to have to choose myself. 

 I rolled over, blindly reaching for a pen, and scribbled in the dark. 

 If my therapist wanted a list, she’d get one helluva list. 

 -----------

“I’m glad you’re going, honey.” Mom released me from the lung-crushing hug. 

 I’d created enough Oxford collages and daydreamed about a new life until I couldn’t think of any other imaginary scenarios (or postpone collegiate life any longer). 

 The Friday sun had set. The game had already started. I thought about the crowd, all the people I’d see… 

 “Can I just stay the weekend?” 

 “Oh.” Her arms dropped from my sides. “Didn’t you promise your friends that you’d go?” 

 Renny. I’d promised Renny. Singular friend. My hand was in a fist, thumb rubbing anxiously over my fingers. I didn’t listen to her voicemails, there were seven of them. But she’d texted me fifty times in the past twenty minutes, declaring that she’d Venmo me gas money if I’d come to the game. 

 I’d been in my hole long enough. 

 “Yeah, I did.”

 “Well, you COULD stay-”

 I broke away, shaking my head. If I let her coddle me another minute, I think I’d crumble all over again. 

 “I love you,” she reminded me. “You’re my precious angel.” 

 From the living room, the muffled applause from the game show Father had fallen asleep to faded further as I left. 

 Momma’s robe-bundled frame waved on the driveway, her sad smile burning in my mind long after she disappeared from view.

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

 Come on, come on, come ON. 

 The path to the stadium took forever. No shame, I was full-on running, braless, fresh pit-stains on display as I booked it to the gate. 

 It was completely dark now, and the usual fleet of cop cars seemed to have all but disappeared the week I’d been gone. Only one passed me by, and the rest of the student body probably all congregated around the stadium. 

 When I saw the art studio, I slowed. It was completely dark, except for one entry light. The paintings would still be displayed... My pounding heart told me to keep running, and I hesitated, listening to it for a moment before walking to the door. I tugged on its metal handles, parts of me seizing up as it opened, giving way to my touch. 

 I crept into the space, feeling like an intruder as I walked through the exhibit. 

 For some reason, I expected it to look differently, to see it blurred together as I’d seen it before in a panic. 

 I was still hanging amidst the vines, but this time the paintings looked less threatening. Maybe it was the fact that I was alone, maybe it was because I’d already felt the worst of it. 

 Each piece was sold. 

 I looked over my shoulder a couple times before letting out a small shout. A tester. 

 It echoed in the space. 

 I did it again, louder, at my full about-to-be-murdered capacity.

 I must’ve looked absolutely mental, but as I heard my shout reverberate around me, at least I felt something.  

 Five charcoal sketches in particular ran horizontally together. 

 Lust / Longing / Love / Lost / Loss

 Had he seen all of this in me? He’d certainly seen other bits I hadn’t shown him. 

 My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. Renny. Without thought, I started her stream of voicemails.

 Y/N where the FUCK are you!? Zayn’s concerned and I’m concerned and you’re not in the room-

 Next. 

 Are you really sick? Or is this just some BS excuse. Or is this real and Harry gave you tonsilitis or something. I want to hear your voice. Ilyyyyy. 

 Next. 

 It’s meeeeee. Niall’s busy and you’re sick and I don’t know what to dooooo. Housewives isn’t as fun without-

 Next.

 BABE WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME CALLS DO YOU HATE ME, AND YES I MEANT TO SAY ME INSTEAD OF MY I HOPE YOU’RE LAUGHING-

 Next.

 DUDE. You will not believe what just happened- Harry just stopped by. 

 My thumb paused, letting it stay. 

 I was avoiding his texts because I think he’s a dick. Well, he IS a dick, even if Niall said he was going through a lot. It’s still not an excuse. But Harry LEGIT found me on campus, like not even when I was with Niall at the house, but at our APARTMENT...I-hold on. Ew, pastrami professor just passed me. What are the odds? OKAY BUT SERIOUSLY, I almost punched him when I opened the door because remember last time he basically told me off. But… I don’t know. It was different this time. He seemed… so concerned. Frazzled. I don’t even know the word to describe it. Ugh, if you were here you would be able to TELL ME what the word is. I miss you. Come back. 

 The voicemail rolled into the next. 

 I’m just pretending to talk on the phone right now because the boy I hooked up with last year is staring me THE FUCK down right now-

 A creak in the pipes startled me, and the voicemail was all but forgotten. 

 My heart beat fast. 

 It was very, very quiet. 

 With one noise in the dark, the art pieces turned menacing. An oil painting in the corner of the room morphed into the Styles’ portrait. It wasn’t here. It couldn’t be here. I squinted, blinking through the dark. The portrait I thought I’d seen was just a painting of two silhouetted men facing each other. My heart still beat like I’d just ran a marathon though. I wasn’t about to be a part of the next horror movie “art comes alive.” 

 I booked it out faster than I came, answering Renny’s call on the way. 

 ---------

“Thank fucking finally,” Renny huffed, leaning over Lynn to draw me in a hug.

 “You didn’t miss much,” Lynn said, looking past me towards the game. I sat on Renny’s other side so she was in the middle, but when I looked at the scoreboard - Home, zero. Guest, two - I knew it was a done deal. Some people had already left, but half the stadium was still here, either hoping for a miraculous recovery or refusing to put their tails between their legs for pride’s sake. I noticed a group of parents in Chapman gear huddled together, waving their flags. No Mary or Lionel Styles in sight. 

 “How’s he been?” I asked. It’s like my head already knew where to turn, because as soon as I looked to the field, I found him. On the bench, elbows on his knees, head bent over.  

 “How’ve YOU been?” Renny asked. “I was seriously about to drive over to your house and check on you.” 

 Someone beat you to it. The thought was sour. For as much as Renny could claim her undying love for me, I was struggling to see the actions to support it. Everyone was disappointing. 

 “He’s been playing like shit,” Lynn answered.  

 “Brought back some...” His sentence died. Of all people, Zayn stood there, stopped, popcorn in hand. “Hey, Y/N.” 

 Felix stood behind Zayn, giving me a small wave. Zayn was clearly waiting for me to make the first move, but I turned away to the field. I didn’t know what to say. 

 From my peripheral, I saw them sit down by Lynn. 

 As soon as he did, it hit me like a flashfood. I knew what I was feeling. Anger. Discomfort. Shame. That he could expose me so easily, that he’d looked through my clothes in a way I never permitted. That he could sit down so comfortably without apologizing, as if nothing had happened. 

 Renny leaned in. “Are you okay?” 

 “No.”

 She flinched at the abrupt answer. “Do you want to leave?” 

 I stopped myself from saying yes. I didn’t want to have to climb over Zayn to get out of here. That would be more than uncomfortable. 

 “No, I’ll tell you later.” 

 I didn’t speak the rest of the game, pretending not to hear him cheer or laugh or make a snide remark to Felix every other second. Like the annoying click of a fan when you’re trying to fall asleep, Zayn’s every move made anger shake my bones. Lynn gave me sympathy looks every once in a while. It wasn’t like me to be this quiet, and even with our friendship being as new as it was, she knew that much. 

 The crowd didn’t roar this time. They were silent as the clock hit zero, staring blatantly at its twin beneath Home. The Guest team’s few Minnesota supporters jumped like little beans on the other side of the field, but their cries were faint. 

 We’d lost. 

 Everyone stood, and Renny linked her arm with mine. A familiar habit. “We’re going to Viv’s for some post-game depression drinks now.” 

 But I stopped her. 

 “I think I want to go back to the room,” I winced. 

 “Come on, PLEASE? It’ll be fun, you were barely here for the game.” 

 “I don’t know, depression and Viv in the same sentence… You really know how to sell a party.” 

 “Aren’t you coming, Y/N?” Lynn made moves to follow the rest of the crowd that was funneling out of the stands.  

 I shook my head at the same time Renny nodded hers. 

 She huffed. “Why not? It’s going to be chill. We lost. It’s not going to be like the usual ragers.” She popped her hip, completely deadpanned. “You haven’t seen another college-aged person in a week.” 

 “Yeah and there’s a reason for that.” 

 Concern washed over her, voice lowering. “Tell me.” 

 As if on cue, Zayn and Felix stopped their descent down the bleachers and looked up at the girls, waiting for them to join. It was all I could do to not scream at them. 

 “Later,” I said. “You’re leaving now.” 

 “I don’t have to leave right now, it’s not starting yet...” Renny began, but Lynn gave her a look that said yes, they were leaving now. 

 “She wants us to help set-up,” Lynn explained. 

 “But it’s a small thing, right?” I teased Renny. 

 My bestie rolled her eyes, lips pinching. “Are you SURE?” 

 I nodded, sitting down on the cool metal bleacher again. Renny took a step towards me, a sad look on her face, but I held up my hand. 

 “I’m fine,” I said, when I felt anything but. “I just want to wait until the crowd leaves.” I picked up the popcorn bag she’d left behind and threw a handful in my mouth with a cheesy, hopefully convincing grin.

 She grimaced, briefly looking back to Lynn who was anxiously waiting. “Fine. But we’re still talking about this later. I friggin miss you.”

 She left with the others, funneling out towards a party she’d probably stay at until the early morning. 

 I didn’t want to go back to the room. I didn’t want to go anywhere. 

 The lights were so bright on soccer fields. Bugs flew in and around, racing each other faster than the dust in my room. It wasn’t until the janitors walked past me that I realized I’d been sitting there for too long. I reached in the popcorn bag, but my hand came up empty. They’d gone overboard on the salty butter, but somehow, I’d still managed to eat all of it. 

 Even with everyone off the field though, I didn’t feel alone. An older Hispanic woman taking out the trash saw me walking down and opened up the bag. 

 “Thank you,” I said, smiling. 

 She just smiled in return, nodding her head as she continued down the aisle.

 Leaving the field’s gates, I was prepping for another mini run-for-my-life-and-back-to-the-dorm anxiety episode, when I heard someone shuffling. There were faint groaning noises, and I sped up my pace. 

 For a flash second, I thought someone was winning the “sleep in the locker room” bet, but when I tossed my head-back mid-run, I stopped so quickly, I almost tripped. 

 “Harry?” 

 There, in the dark, barely concealed by the shadows, he stumbled out. His abdomen looked… glossy? But then the light reflected crimson. 

 I ran to him as he fell, his white jersey stained with blood. “Oh my God, oh my God…” I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What happened?! Are you okay!?” 

 He pushed me back. “M’fine.” But his voice was strained. He stumbled again, and I reached out before he fell. 

 I thought the blood from his shirt had fallen from a bloody nose, but his hand moved to my arm in a vice-like grip, revealing a gash in his jersey, I saw more liquid pool out from his gut and I almost gagged. 

 “You are BEYOND fine. You aren’t fucking fine!!” 

 “We have to leave. Have to… get out of here.” He grimaced. His face, his beautifully chiselled face was swollen on one side, his lip cut from impact. 

 “Okay. OKAY. I need to call the cops. The cops. I’m going to call them.” Shaky hands took out the cellphone, but he threw it down. “HARRY!” 

 “Take me to the physical therapy room?” 

 I looked at his chest. “You’re bleeding. A LOT.” My free arm reached for the tossed phone, but he tugged me back. 

 “No. They’ll write a report. I can’t have a-” he winced, sucking in a breath, and I reached for the phone again. “DON’T. Fucking hell. Don’t call anyone.”

 My eyes racked his frame again, and I immediately applied pressure to his ab area, right where the gash was. He sucked in a breath, unleashing a string of curses I couldn’t hear right now. “Oh my God,” I breathed. 

 “Answer me,” he growled. 

 My mind scrambled for his question… he wanted me to take him to the physical therapy room.  “YES! Yes. I have the- fuck, yes, I know where the keys are.” I looked at him again. What the FUCK.

 “Stop freaking out,” he grunted, but he weakened the next second, his eyes fluttering before coming back to me. 

 “Okay, hold on. Hold onto me. Keep applying pressure.” 

 The physical therapy room wasn’t too far, bits of blood that’d fallen to his shoes marking our path.

 “Why aren’t all the cops here?” 

 “They’re on rotation. The parties... they’llbestationedthere-JESUS.” We paused, letting him catch his breath. But it was shallow. Too shallow. 

 “Can you wait here for a second?” I asked.

 He nodded, resting against a lamp post. 

 I hurried to the lockbox located behind the planter, punching in the code and unlocking it at lightning’s speed. 

 I didn’t know if there were cameras. I didn’t know if this was illegal. 

 I didn’t care.

 We made it through the doors, and he was just about to sit on the table when- 

 “WAIT!” I ran to grab several rags and laid it beneath him before heaving him up. The soft cry he made when sitting down was like a knife through my own chest. 

 I grabbed scissors, cutting his t-shirt. I didn’t have time to linger, I didn’t have time to notice the way his tattoos were completely concealed by a red current. There were two wounds. One, deeper, the other, more shallow. Both in the lower left abdomen, just above a prominent v-line.  

 I wiped around the area, pausing above the gashes. “This is going to sting,” I warned. 

 There wasn’t fear in his eyes. He watched me, and I, him, as I pressed it against the open skin. He trembled, wincing, mouth opening in silent exclamation.  

 “You’re doing good,” I whispered. 

 “So are you,” he gritted out. 

 I swallowed, reaching for the butterfly bandages. But as soon as I did, more blood rushed out. I held a rag to him. “Save your breath. You need it.”

 The thin white bandages seemed too little in the wake of his wound, and just as one bandage was placed, he cringed away, regretting his decision to move almost immediately.

 “Fucking hurts,” he groaned. 

 “Stop moving! I need to close the wound up. You’re bleeding too much.” 

 “Y/N, just take me home. Call Lionel,” he panted. 

 “I’m calling 911 if you don’t let me at least attempt to close this wound because if we leave now you’ll bleed out.” 

 “You’ve done enough, please-”

 “STOP. TALKING. I’ll call him after.” He saw a flame behind my eyes, and quieted, too weak to protest much more anyway. I came closer, and this time he didn’t flinch. The butterfly bandages at least minimally shrunk the open gouges. 

 With no other choice, I left him there alone, running across campus to my car and driving back in less than five minutes. It was illegal to drive through student walkways, let alone drive 60 mph, but there wasn’t a choice. I kept picturing Harry passing out, his limp God-like body, turned mortal, weak, bleeding out all over the training room floor. My foot hit the gas pedal harder. I could’ve been a damn marathon winner/race car driver. Let the cops add “speeding” to the file they already had on me. 

 Once we were both in the car, I looked over at him every two seconds. An entire roll of tight gauze around his abdomen kept the wound from bleeding out, but it was still turning pink. It was the second time blood would have been on my car. 

 Of all the revenge daydreams I’d had, I would’ve settled for Harry seeing me make out with Andre on the dancefloor over THIS. Would he die in my car? Would I be responsible?? I looked at the cheesy Angel pin my mom had given me for my car mirror. Never Fly Faster Than Your Guardian Angel Can Fly. Where was my angel now?? 

 “Where are we going?” He asked, between fading in and out.

 “To your house.” 

 His hand grabbed mine on the wheel and I practically swerved into the center divider from shock. 

 “HARRY!” 

 “We need to go to my house,” he said suddenly, panicked, as if I’d told him the opposite. 

 I placed our interlocked hands above the console. A safe distance away from the wheel in case he lurched again. 

 “Don’t worry, we’re going there. We’re going to your house. You’re just in shock, it’s okay,” I cooed, but it was desperate. And it was definitely not okay. 

 “They’ll ask… less..less questions...” 

 His grip was unbearably tight for three long seconds before it relaxed. 

 “Stay with me. Stay awake,” I urged. Harry’s lids kept drooping and I was desperate, blasting the Air Conditioning to an uncomfortable temperature. 

 Lionel picked up on the second ring. 

 “It’s Y/N. I think Harry’s been stabbed-” 

 “What?!” 

 “- I told him we should call the cops, but he was adamant we call you instead.” 

 “Seal the wound with whatever you can-”

 “I did that. Not well, we didn’t have wound sealant- Okay, I’m rambling. I don’t know what to do, but he needs to see a doctor. Immediately.” 

 There was a long pause. 

 “Hello?” my voice wavered. 

 “Bring him to the practice.” The voice over the other line was that of a doctor, matter-of-fact, somber. 

 Hoag Hospital passed me, a nagging thought telling me that’s where we should be going - where there was paperwork, evidence, some legitimate accountability. But I wasn’t his father. I wasn’t responsible. 

 “On my way. I’m getting off the freeway now.” 

 The call ended, and as I looked at Harry, fading dangerously out of consciousness, my hands trembled more from fear than cold. Out of all the reactions, I hadn’t expected this one. The voice on the other line hadn’t seemed surprised at all. 

come talk to me about the chappie or just about how you���re doing! now’s the time to stay connected :) 

[yn-dreamlife]

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader || My Little Flower

pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x reader 

Warnings: mentions/memories of abuse, angst, guilty todoroki, guilty bakugo, Panic attacks, angst, fluff

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Eijiro Kirishima, Shoto Todoroki, Mina Ashido, Tenya Iida.

Description: When one of Katsukis harmless insults Sends you flashing back into your abusive past you fear what he’ll think of you. Will your friendship possibly be ruined because of this? A.N: ok so I haven’t been able to watch a bunch of this show yet cause online schooling I’m going off of the fan fiction I’ve read so don’t come at me please. I love this fandom and honestly it would break my heart if I offended someone. I hope you enjoy. Also for the sake of things pretend that UA is a college 

I walk next to one of my best friends not noticing his heterochromiac gaze in me. I bite my lip deep in my thoughts i was still relatively new to the idea that I actually have to stay at UA college ever since it became a boarding school and to say I was nervous was a understatement, who would I be with? How would the rooms work? Would it be by class? What if I didn’t know anyone? What if-  “y/n,” shotos soft voice besides me brings me from my thoughts. I hummed in acknowledgement feeling my cheeks heat up worried he would be upset I was being like this. “relax.” He whispered softly placing a hand on my shoulder and letting out a warmth to help against the cool winter wether.  I felt some of the anxiety leave me.... some. Of course he wasn’t mad he knew how I got, anxious I was doing something wrong breaking an unspoken rule or not making everyone happy, worried constantly about grades, not caring for myself, all because of them. I smile apologetically at the duo colored hair boy. And he returns one back. 

But that doesn’t mean my anxiety’s of the dorm rooms would go away. We got to UA our bags in tow behind us as we walked up I saw a some of the people who have become some of my truest friends. Izuku Midoriya was standing next to Ochaco Uraraka, and I could see both there faces had a slight flush as there arm kept brushing against one another. I also saw Tenya Iida standing with them he was our class representative. I was still shocked I was in a class with such amazing people. As we came closer I also saw three other people approaching.  Mina Ashido smiled brightly at me rushing to give me a hug while leaving her bag to the two men she was walking with, I gladly welcomed the embrace needing it but never forgetting Shoto was right there because truth be told I would be crying already had it not been for his constant presences.  Due to her sprinting towards me it grabbed the attention of the group of three I had already noticed but my eyes where closed shut clutching to her. When we pulled away her two companions Eijiro Kirishima, and Katsuki Bakugo where also there now along with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Iida.  “Hi everybody!” I said happily willing the heat rising to my cheeks down. Whenever Bakugo was around my heart soared and butterfly’s formed in my stomach and if I dint keep my emotions down a flower crown would soon be forming on my head. Todoroki place a cooling hand on my back calming me but I think he did it to calm the heat glaring to my cheeks as all the eyes landed on me. 

“Hey there pretty lady!” Kiri said to me smiling pulling me into a hug and I gladly hugged my red haired fiend. He was always so happy which made it easier for me. 

“So does anyone know how this is all going to work?” I asked worried maybe I was the only clueless one. Most everyone looked confused except of course for Iida. “We will be placed by classroom into rooms all classes will have one common area but all of us have bedrooms, I am unsure at the time if any of us will be sharing.” I nodded my head “Of course no boys and girls will be sharing. Right?”

He gave a pointed look to me. “W-what’s that look for?!” I shrieked as I could do nothing to hide the blush. And when shotos hand left me due to him covering his mouth as he laughed it only seemed down my neck. “Oh come on we all know you and Todoroki are together!” Uraraka spoke smiling, Shoto stopped laughing.

“Not so funny know huh Shoto?!” He only glared at me But there was no heat behind it, and looked at our friends. “Me and y/n are not together.” He spoke seriously. All there faces turned to confusion and Midoriya spoke first. “Wait your not? But you two call each other by first name and you don’t do that to anyone else!” He said defensively. “Well yeah Shoto does it out of respect I don’t do it because none of you have given me permission to do so. Besides Shoto is like my brother, I could never do anything like that.” I smiled over at him and he returned it.

“Maybe stop making heart eyes at icy hot and maybe we’ll believe you, shitty woman.” Bakugo scoffed Kirishima hit his shoulder rather roughly at the look on my face. Usually his playful insults never bothered me and I’d fire back but that one.... he Used that one. Shoto without thinking shot out in front of me shielding me from everyone as I took a few steps back slowly. Third person P.O.V

Todoroki knew the moment the words left Bakugos mouth what would happen. He quickly moved in front of you and Shielded you from view. Kirishima never liked when his bakubro spoke to you that way knowing of his feelings towards you and yours towards him but he looked over and saw as you took a few steps back. Your eyes seemed to glass over and you had a far off look, one that reminded him of the pro hero’s who had seen to much in there time.

Everyone made a move to get closer to you but you quickly stepped back again, Shoto took another step forward practically growling, but you where to busy turning around to notice as you ran off. Todoroki let you knowing you needed space for a minute but he would give you no more time than that.

“What the fuck happened icyhot?!” Bakugo spoke daring anyone to mention the worry that leaked into his voice with a glare. No one mentioned it to worried, they had never seen you like that. You had an energy like Kirishima always happy and smiling always helping others. And your reaction to the name was not anticipated. So often you would fire something back at Bakugo that he was left feeling horribly guilty. Before anyone could ask Todoroki made his way to you.

Your P.O.V

Warning abuse flashback

I ran to the only place I had felt safe in all of UA it was a hidden garden long since forgotten at the back of the school. Once I had found it the first few days of school I instantly fell in love my quirk blossomed here. I could control all things natural from the elements to plants and animals. I could make animals listen and plants grow. But I also had the power to kill said plants easily. The trail of death I left behind in the grass as I ran a clear path to anyone but i was to far gone in my mind.

“You want to be a hero?!” His cold voice echoed in the basement the voice I still longed to hear praise come from. “Your quirk is nothing compared to mine. Do you hear me?! NOTHING! And besides....” he grabbed my throat roughly making me meet his eye, “your gonna be my slave for the rest of your stupid life.” His cold eyes once so filled with love broke the last part of my spirit I had left, I bowed my head in submission.

——

“Oh shitty woman!” His voice echoed through the house to my cage in the basement i whimpered. “Be ready cause I’m just pissed of tonight!” I shook out of both fear and coldness. I wasn’t allowed to wear anything except my shackles. He liked to keep me chained up my wrists attached to a chain that was liked to a metal collar around my neck. My feet also cuffed together. Both allowing me to move but never escape. I was his slave, his dog, his shitty woman, his punching bag, and his fuck hole. I had no other purpose anymore. I haven’t spoken to any of my loved ones in months? Years? Time blurred together, especially since I was locked away in the dark damp windowless basement. I heard his foot steps come thudding down the stairs, he held a knife in his hands, he liked to make me bleed.

I can’t tell how long it’s been, hours, days, minutes? All I knew was he wasn’t stopping and I knew one more cut, one more kick, I would be gone I couldn’t stop the happiness that flooded me I would be free.

I didn’t notice Shoto coming towards me till he placed his cool hand on one cheek and his warm one on the other the two temperatures grounding me slightly  

“y/n come back, you’re in your garden remember? I got you out of there, he’s gone he can’t hurt you.” His words shifted my thoughts to what happened next.

The hope I had just felt was suddenly ripped away as the doorbell rang. He growled and stormed upstairs stripping off the bloody shirt. I couldn’t hear anything but suddenly I heard his frustrated scream through the whole house the name he cried barley recognizable since the amount of time it has been since I heard it but a part of me knew.

“Todoroki!!” I laid there stunned... Todoroki? Thoughts of a pair of heterochromia eyes popped into my brain. The piecing blue and grey, but they held warmth. I could remember his hair two colors both white and red. I heard frantic footsteps rush down the stairs.

“y/n!” I heard a man yell I flinched but looking up I was met with those warm eyes except they had worry and fear i ached to take that away my mind still foggy on how I knew him. and it suddenly all came back, the times we spent laughing so hard tears streamed down our faces, sneaking into his home to see him when his father shut him away, sparing with him, creating flowers the same color as his eyes and hair.

“Sho...” I whispered the ghost of a smile in my eye the last thing I heard was his calming voice

“Don’t worry sweet flower I’ve got you”

“Sho?” I spoke the fog slowly leaving my brain I squeezed his hands to my face. “That’s it, there you go...welcome back.” I looked around and sighed but it was quickly turned into a hitch in my breathe as I saw the path of death I had created, quickly with a wave of my hand it was regrowing, Shoto smiles at me. “Sorry about that.” I muttered quietly he shook his head pulling me into a hug, “never apologize,” He pulled me away slightly staring at me directly in the eyes. “Never.” I nodded and he smiled at me grabbing my hand and helping me stand. It was getting dark so we headed back to what was now our class dorm.

When I entered I was quickly pulled into a hug I recognized it as Kirishima and hugged him back letting him hold me for a while as Shoto walked off going to his room. When I pulled away I looked behind him not seeing anyone else. “How is he?” I asked softly. “I should be asking about you.” He smiled softly “but of course you always worry about everyone else... he’s upset, to say the least but not at you more at himself.” I nodded and kiri showed me to my room turns out we didn’t have to share much to all of our reliefs. We loved each other sure but our own space was nice. It had been several hours and in that time I decided to clean my room, unpack everything, read something and scroll through social media all to distract myself from the inevitable nightmare I would have. But of course I drifted to sleep and of course I had a nightmare. I woke up hot a sweaty shaking away the flashes of the dream, I was back with my ex but this time he made bakugo watch as he did things to me and he begged and cried even though I knew the real bakugo had never shown such emotions to me but it seemed so real.

I walked out to the kitchen the mere thought of his eyes looking that way and my ex made me once again cry. I bit my hand the way I always did and before I knew it snow was falling above me.

“y/l/n?” I heard a voice behind me I turned around and saw none other than bakugo. The sight of his eyes made the sob I was holding back rip from my throat. They where the same eye from my dream the same look of pain and sadness in them.

“Katsuki-” I stopped myself despite my sobs. I felt a surge of dread wash through me. I knew I called him that in my head but to say it to him felt so rude without permission. I fell to my knees my hands taking position in front of my chest clasped together as I softly whispered

“I’m sorry I meant no offense bak-” I was cut off my soft hands cupping my face and sweat pants clad knees brushing against the skin of my own bare knees. “Don’t, katsuki is fine. I’m more concerned about what’s wrong?” I pursed my lips shaking my head. He sighed as he hoisted me up into his arms and began walking into the living room type area. He set my on the couch and then sat himself down next to me. “So tell me y/n, what’s wrong.” I took a deep breathe studying myself. He gave me all the time I needed and I was grateful. I sighed running my hand through my hair as I stood up. “what I’m telling you only Shoto knows I’m trusting you to keep this information to yourself.” He nodded sitting up and I felt like he had the same commitment to that Silent promise As he did to trying to be number one hero. “I was with an ex... and we where together towards our senior year of high school. You probably didn’t notice but well we went to the same high school you, and i know you knew that. But you probably didn’t notice my absence towards the end of the year. Well my boyfriend snapped or something and he... he made me his slave. Locked me in the basement, kept me chained, he would abuse me in every way possible. Sexually, physically, mentally, emotionally... and well Shoto... when he found me I was an inch from death and I was ready to welcome it with open and willing arms... that was a year ago.” His breathe hitched.

“Thanks to someone’s quirk a lot of the memories are gone... for the most part, I still have triggers and nightmares. One of those triggers being what he used to call me. I was his fuck hole, his slave, his... shitty woman.” I watched his hand fly to his mouth anger seeping into his eyes. “And today, I called you- oh my god I am so sorry!” He truly looked like he was about to pass out. “Is that why you where upset just now? Because of me? I can get my room transferred probably I’ll do whatever I ca-” I shook my head. “no not directly you, it was a nightmare I had but well uh.... you where in it.” I watched color leave his face I knew what he thought so I quickly stopped the thought from continuing by adding “my ex was doing those things in front of you! He was making you watch and I had to watch you... I had to watch your beautiful vermillion eyes be covered in pain and sadness and worry. And well you came into the kitchen and that’s the exact look i saw. And the reason it affected me is because I like you katsuki. A lot and honestly I’m sorry, because who wants some broken cry baby to be head over heels for them but I am and I understand if you don’t wish to speak to me again.” before I could comprehend what was happening I was being pulled into his arms. His scent of burnt sugar and caramel invading my senses. His hands moved through my hair and I hummed at the feeling.

“i feel the same way about you baby.” I sighed as I moved closer to him and he in turn pulled me into his lap. He rubbed his hands steadily up and down my back as he layer down on the couch. “I’m sorry all of that happened to you, I’m sorry I said that to you, and I’m sorry that I never went to check on you in high school. Truth is I did notice I just thought you moved or something.” We sat in scilence for a little while till I spoke up again.

“Katsuki...” he hummed “what am I to you?” He moved my head so I was looking at him. I saw his vibrant eyes and they warmed me throughout even my whole soul. “you... you’re my little flower, so delicate under harsh conditions but no matter how heavy the foot or how harsh the winter you’ll come back as vibrant or even more vibrant than before. You are my light, and my everything and if you will allow me the honor my girlfriend.”

Tears brimmed my eyes “Oh god, I’m sorry. Don’t cry! Shit! Um-” I cut him off smiling and he sighed and visibly relaxed.

“i would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend, firework man.” I gently leaned down my lips a hairs breath away from his and he leaned in closing the distance I sighed I had wanted this since I first layed eyes on him. It felt so nice.

“Goodnight katsuki.” I whispered as I kissed his jaw cuddling back into his warm bare chest on,y now realizing his attire but not caring enough to be embarrassed. “goodnight my little flower.” The last thing I heard before drifting into sleep was “ill protect you, always.”

[galaxywhale-moved]

Anyway here’s a rant about bushfires and anxiety, it got long but also I’m anxious about this like I am about a bunch of things righ now but I feel like I’ve been bottling this up and keep deleting it every time I write it out so fuck it this time I’m not 🙃

Cool I was having fun looking at old photos of my dog and photos of my sisters cat as a kitten bc they’re on my new phone and not my old and then I got to January of this year and the photos of the fire and now yay more bushfire anxiety

Was already feeling anxious about Lots of Things and now I feel worse, and was already a little bushfire anxious bc my sorta friend has been posting her photos of the bushfire that made them evacuate a year ago on fb so I keep seeing them unexpectedly, plus the news helpfully reminded me that we’re so close now to that worst day a year ago (New Years)

Thankfully it’s just low level anxiety and not the literal panic attack and anxiety attack level I had like 2-3 months ago but it’s not fun!! Especially with my brain constantly telling that I don’t deserve to be stressed bc I wasn’t actually affected, I didn’t have to evacuate, there was never any real risk of the fire reaching me, not unless it burned through a lot of other houses first right into the middle of the city. Like never mind standing at the top of my street, looking at the fire burning in the mountain, where you could literally see flames, never mind driving home from work getting closer and closer to that fire in front of me even if it wasn’t even close. Never mind not being able to really go outside for like a 2 months solid bc the air quality was literally hazardous, or looking at the red sun through the smoke or checking the air quality level waiting to see if I could physically let my class play outside when the air quality was like 5x higher than considered toxic or the day when apparently my city had the worse air pollution rating out of all the recorded cities in the world! Never mind seeing places I have a personal connection too burning, the skies orange, people sheltering on beaches that I know, seeing burnt places that I have been to and know and have visited so many times and probably would have visited a few months later had COVID and the fires not happened and never mind trying not to cry as I refreshed for updates, unable to stop myself consuming every piece of awful information as more and more awful videos and photos were shared. Never mind my friend being packed and ready to leave their house if the wind changed direction, the house I had my first sleepovers starting back when I was like 9, and my other friends not making it to our social events bc they couldn’t leave their horse alone at the evacuation centre they had to take him too

I don’t deserve to be stressed about all that because my brain won’t stop telling me how so many people had it worse and meanwhile there are occasional times when I’m trying not to cry because there’s fog in the sky or clouds sitting low over the mountains just like the smoke filled the air and smoke hung over the burning mountains so then I’m just feeling anxious AND guilty

The only relief this year is that they’re expecting a really wet summer and it’s hard to burn things when it’s raining but hey thankfully the news has reminded me that that means there’ll be lots of long grass to grow and dry out which will burn well if a fire starts! And we’ve fucked up the climate and won’t do anything about it and I’m so scared it’ll happen again

And just for good measure here are the photos that set me off because maybe if I share them and put it out into the world instead of keeping I inside maybe it’ll help or maybe I’ll just feel awful still who knows!! One from right near my house, one from the top of the street bc I live at the bottom of a hill and one from a professional photographer of that worst night

[mewmedic]

An Offering, Chapter 2

Read it on AO3 here.

Summary: Claudette walked off and met Meg again, who extended her arm to link up and she reciprocated. The two survivors crossed over into the fog together once more. She was surprised at how Meg was willing to be so close and even touch her. Before she was abducted into this realm, Claudette never really had anyone who was like this in her life. She didn’t know many people who wanted to spend time with her. To most around her, she was the weird girl who likes plants too much. She was torn from her thoughts when Meg began to speak.

Warnings: None.

Notes: This chapter went way longer than expected. But the next chapter should be shorter and the final.

    Claudette was stirred from her sleep by the call of a trial. It was a sleep cycle she had acquired over a pretty quick period of time, much like waking up before an alarm she has set for school. She rubbed her groggy eyes and turned her gaze to the primrose flowers in a satchel. Memories of last night returned to her mind: Meg distrusting her, the embarrassment, then she forgave her. The whole encounter was so awkward and she would really just like to move on from it. But she dreaded that it would have to be brought up again when the four of them met for the trial. She was going to have to explain the primrose to Jake and Dwight somehow. She exited her tent with her satchel and met the others at the fire.

    “Oh, there she is. Claudette has a surprise for us.” Meg looked like she was mid conversation with the two men and was ushering her into the topic by waving her arm. Claudette stopped moving and felt her throat clog, her whole body tensed. Her brain flashed imagery of her last public speaking moment, an awards ceremony where she nearly melted behind the podium. How could she approach this without Jake and Dwight thinking she was crazy like Meg did?

    “I… uh… Primrose is an ingredient used in medicine that treats eczema and other skin issues and… and...” Jake was deadpanning her like he was waiting for her to get to the damn point while Dwight looked like he was painfully resisting the urge to bite his nails out of boredom. She shot a desperate look to Meg that screamed ‘please help me out of this pit of verbal quicksand.’

    “What Claudette is trying to say is. She thinks whatever monster gave us this campfire put it here so we could make, like, sacrifices to it. Things we find in the fog could help us.” Meg shot her arms out gesticulating with every point she was trying to make.

    “I would prefer the term offering. Sacrifice just sounds so… violent. But yes, I believe burning this primrose could maybe motivate us to heal each other more.” Claudette thought she was starting to find her footing in the conversation thanks to Meg’s explanation. Unfortunately, Jake rolled his eyes at her statement.

    “I’m pretty sure our motivation to heal is the psychotic guy hunting us down.” Jake was mostly a quiet individual, but when he did speak, he was quite curt. Claudette secretly wished he would be a bit more of a ‘team player’ but felt ashamed to even think that.

    “Oh, whatever. You only heal us when we basically grovel and beg for it.” Meg crossed her arms and tapped her foot, clearly trying to control her temper. Dwight’s eyes darted around the campfire like he was looking for an opportunity to add his two cents.

    “Meg’s right. Anyways, it’s not like burning some flowers could possibly hurt us… Right?” Dwight unrolled his fists into open hands and showed his palms in a sort of shrug. “Right?” His voice was smaller now, almost like he was trying to reassure himself this time. Jake immediately scoffed and crossed his arms. The fog began to creep closer to the survivors and Claudette steeled herself. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tossed the satchel into the flames. The last thing she saw before the fog whisked her away was the fire spiking into the air.

    ***

    The trial was pretty standard for Claudette. The killer that they call ‘The Hillbilly’ had eliminated her on her third hook when there were two generators left to finish. She hated dying so close to completion, all that hard work down the drain, at least for her. Now her friends would be left to deal with aftermath of her mistakes. The first death often causes the trial to spiral out of control and she couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. Claudette might even be the only one who will die this trial, although that would be unlikely. It seemed like the most common outcome for their trials was for two to live and two to die.

    She sat at the campfire as she waited for the others to return, gripping her knees in trepidation. After several minutes, Jake’s unconscious body gradually materialized from the fog one glowing body part at a time. The man sat up and the two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Claudette was too timid to ask what Jake was trying to get across with his stare. She didn’t want to be confrontational, so she just tilted her head down and stared at the dirt. Jake stood up and made his way back to the inside of his tent.

    A few minutes later, Meg and Dwight emerged from the fog together. Meg had her fists in the air like she had just crossed a finish line. Dwight trailed behind her, holding his gut in pain with his back hunched over. Claudette stood up and scurried over to Dwight, reaching a hand towards the wound.

    “It-it’s okay, Claudette. I have a medk-k-kit in my tent.” Dwight stuttering betrayed his attempt to sound like he was handling the pain well. She could tell Dwight probably just wanted to be alone after a hard trial so she let him go, against her best wishes. She knew she could heal Dwight better than he could himself, but she didn’t have the nerve to boss him around. The man drifted away to his tent so Claudette turned to Meg, who still looked quite victorious. She was shifting her weight from leg to leg in an excited dance, like she still had energy from the trial left to burn.

    “You are not gonna believe what I saw in the trial.” Meg proclaimed like a teenager who just heard the hottest rumor. Meg turned her head side to side to make sure the boys weren’t around and cupped a palm up to her lips like she was going to tell a secret. “Jake unhooked Dwight, and then he healed him.” She leaned back and let out a hearty cackle like a mad woman.

    “Really?” Claudette crossed her arms and placed a finger on her chin like she was waiting for more information.

    “Okay, so Dwight was hooked and I was on my way to get him. This was after you died, by the way, so the only people who could’ve got him are me and Jake. And I’m thinking there no way Jake’s gonna get him so I will. I’m about to exit the corn but I stop in my tracks when I see Jake in the distance. He did it, he really did it! Off the hook Dwight goes and he doesn’t even ask for a heal. Jake just gives it to him. And because Dwight was healed for the rest of the trial, he was able to take a hit while I opened the exit gate!” She slammed her hands together in a loud clap and was doing little jumps up and down. “Can you believe that?!”

    “So, you both only got out because of Jake’s healing?” The gears in Claudette’s brain were turning but she was disrupted by Meg.

    “You know what this means, right? The offering worked Claudy! It worked!” Meg struck a dramatic pose, craning her foot behind her in an arc and raising both hands in the air again.

    “Oh gosh, he really was motivated to be more altruistic, huh?” Claudette tapped her finger on her chin like she was lost in thought. It also could have been Dwight and Meg shaming him before the round. Who knows? Wait, did Meg just call her Claudy? She didn’t hate it; she just hadn’t been called that since maybe high school.

    “We should go get more before we get forced into another trial.” Meg swiftly turned to head into the fog. Claudette reached out to Meg and tapped her shoulder.

    “Wait, I need to fetch my trowel and another satchel.” Claudette headed to her tent then grabbed her trowel and a spare satchel, which she had found at Coldwind Farm not too long ago. When she exited her tent, she noticed Jake and Dwight were quietly talking while sitting on a log. The tone seemed like the conversation was private, as they both stopped speaking when they noticed Claudette. “Meg and I are going out to look for more offerings. Okay?” The two men nodded their head and then returned to looking at each other.

    Claudette walked off and met Meg again, who extended her arm to link up and she reciprocated. The two survivors crossed over into the fog together once more. She was surprised at how Meg was willing to be so close and even touch her. Before she was abducted into this realm, Claudette never really had anyone who was like this in her life. She didn’t know many people who wanted to spend time with her. To most around her, she was the weird girl who likes plants too much. She was torn from her thoughts when Meg began to speak.

    “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Meg pushed her free hand out in front of her, like she was trying to test to see if she would whisk away the fog. It unfortunately did not work.

    “I’m not sure really. Any sort of plant really.” She really did not know what kind of plants can grow out in this unusual dimension, finding the primrose really seemed like miracle. She really hoped she would be able to spot something as she didn’t want to let the team down. But right now, she only saw dirt on the ground as they walked.

    Claudette felt a soft warmth envelope her hand that was close to Meg. Almost like there was something holding it. Like a hand? It couldn’t be. Her body tensed for a millisecond and her eyes slowly traveled from the dirt to her own hand. There it was: Meg’s hand holding hers. She felt a heat rise in her cheeks so she had to be blushing. Claudette shot a speedy glance over to Meg; she was blushing too! She never imagined someone as confident as Meg could ever feel anxious about anything. The two girls both shot a knowing glance at each other. Claudette had no objections to this; but it seemed to all be coming at her so fast. Everything about Meg was fast so she guessed she would have to learn to keep up.

    Claudette stopped moving and Meg followed suit when she noticed an interruption in the dirt. It was an herb that looked like it had just started to grow as there wasn’t much of it. Just some pale green stems and the leaves that had red veins inside. The two survivors knelt down to get a closer look. “I think… I think this is crispleaf amaranth. Although I’ve never actually seen it in person since it doesn’t grow where I live.”

    “Where are you from?” Meg tilted her head curiously.

    “Oh, Uh, I’m from Montreal.” Claudette realized then that she didn’t really know the others’ pre-fog origins.

    “I’m from Colorado. You don’t sound Canadian, like, at all.” Meg spoke in a light-hearted manner.

    “What’s a Canadian supposed to sound like?” Claudette seemed taken aback a bit.

    “Canadians are supposed to say sorry like Sor-Eee and about like aboot.” Meg’s spoke playfully. Claudette quickly swiveled her head to face Meg and dropped her jaw in faux offense. “Oooh, can you speak French? Say something in French.”

    “Belle fleur. It means beautiful flower.” Claudette noticed Meg bite her lip like she was lost in thought and turned her view back to the herb in front of them. It may not be a flower or visually appealing, but it had beauty in its own way. “Anyways, amaranth in Greek means ‘the unfading flower.’ This Crispleaf has a self-supporting growth form, meaning it has its own supportive tissues so it doesn’t need to climb an object to grow high.”

    “So, it’s a real resilient son of a bitch?” Meg smirked, resting her chin on her knuckles.

    “That’s one way to put it, yeah. I think it will help us survive a trial.” Claudette laughed as she spoke and she gently pushed the trowel into the dirt. She left the trowel in the dirt and retrieved her satchel from her pocket. After a bit more digging the crispleaf had found its way into the little bag. She then put the trowel in her back pocket so she could carry the satchel. Both of the girls stood back up in unison.

    “So, did you go to college to learn all this plant stuff?” Meg asked.

    “Yes. I was honestly scared to leave my home, but I got a scholarship to a great school so I just had to go. What about you?” Claudette innocently questioned.

    “Well, I got a scholarship… But my mom got sick so I had to turn it down.” Meg turned her face away to hide the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

    “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Claudette squeezed Meg’s hand just a little bit tighter in a meek way to show support.

    “I just… Being stuck out here is so painful. I have no idea how she’s doing.” Meg’s tears began to fall now.

    “Meg, I believe we’ll all get out of here, and the first thing we’ll do is go see your mom together.” Claudette spoke with a confidence that she can’t remember having in a long time. Meg turned her head back to Claudette and began to wipe the tears from her eyes. Claudette could tell from her behavior that she was ashamed cry. Meg suddenly let go of Claudette’s hand and threw her arms around her in a vice grip of a hug. Claudette gasped, dropped the satchel, and awkwardly tried to use her arms to pat Meg on the back. Her face reddened when she felt Meg rest her chin on her shoulder. She sat in silence, patiently waiting for Meg’s sobbing to fade away. “Are you ready to go back to the fire?”

    “Y-yeah. Sure.” Meg separated from the other woman. Claudette bent over and picked up the satchel. She then reached out her open palm to Meg, who then softly entwined her fingers with Claudette’s. The two walked for what felt eternity in silence until the blooming light of the campfire greeted them. “Claud, please don’t tell the guys about all that.”

    “Of course. It will be just between us.” Claudette let go of Meg’s hand and placed it on her own heart to try and show her sincerity.

    “Bye.” Both of them said at the same time. They both paused for a second at the unintentional timing and chuckled. They parted ways to their own tents to prepare themselves for the next trial. In the depth of Claudette’s mind, she wondered if the first offering had really worked. What if it was just a coincidence that Jake decided to take care of Dwight? She sat alone in her tent; vision locked to the herb held tightly in both hands. All that was left to do was wait.

[cordonia]

Estela + MC: “Xanny”

Summary: Estela Montoya has isolated herself from everyone at school; safer that way. One party, one moment lacking judgment, and now a girl is following her home. [au where rourke never bought an island?]

Inspired by Xanny by Billie Eilish

“What is it about them? I must be missing something They just keep doing nothing Too intoxicated to be scared Better off without them”

Warnings: Party behaviour, mention of drinking/past car accident, this took such a weird turn but I’m rolling with it?! Just kissing as well!

Word Count: 2100

Estela had never been a party person, or a people person. Her mother had always called a sociable child but it was long before her death that Estela changed. It was difficult to read so many emotions, when every single person expressed them differently. She did not venture far into what she didn’t understand anymore, it always seemed to lead nowhere.

That night, however, she was misled by her new roommate. Heavily. How she fell for the “small gathering” descriptor was beyond her, films should have prepared her for this kind of lie. The party was packed into a dorm that she only dreamed of being able to afford. It was basically a castle compared to her apartment.

She had felt bad that Diego was going alone, and if it were truly going to be small... Estela wasn’t that much of a grouch, she could participate in small talk. She had been living alone up until last month when another school year was about to begin and her money was less accessible. A roommate was daunting, but Estela was brave. Diego had so far proven to be a perfect roommate, until that night of course.

“A small gathering?” Diego just grinned and handed her a red solo cup. Classy.

“My best friend lives here, she wasn’t entirely clear about what kind of party it is. Sorry? But let me introduce you to her, she’s through here,” Diego said pointing to a hallway that presumably led to bedrooms.

“This is your best friend’s party?” Estela shook her head, why was she here? Diego clearly didn’t need her, and was intent on making her miserable only three weeks after moving in. She thought it had been clear that parties made her uncomfortable. 

Diego, you were perfect until right now, Estela thought, a tight smile on her lips.

“She’s sort of a legend here. The football team nicknamed her Catalyst for some reason. You’re going to love her!”

Catalyst? What a stupid nickname, Estela was only half curious in learning how this stranger had earned it. She didn’t have a nickname, never had. Her uncle called her Estelita but she didn’t think that counted. 

“I’m going to find the bathroom, I’ll find you soon,” Estela said with an apologetic shrug, and began backing away. 

It was easy to push through the crowd when everyone was already swaying slightly. She set her cup down on the staircase bannister and soon found herself in the kitchen. After grabbing an empty cup, she poured herself some water. The people chatting in the kitchen didn’t acknowledge her, too involved in their friends. 

“Estela Montoya?”

She turned at the sound of her name, a little too quickly and cringed at the cold water that sloshed up against her shirt. She looked up, and once her brain adjusted, she looked back down again. Was Estela always this tall, or was this girl adorably short? 

“I’m sorry, you know me?” Estela’s words sounded jumbled together but it was no worse than some of the people slurring in the kitchen. Maybe her awkward nature blended into the party setting after all. 

“You’re Diego’s roommate, I’ve seen you around school a bit I think.” 

Estela blinked a few times, connecting the dots as the girl in front of her smiled innocently at her. 

“It’s good to finally meet you, I’m--”

‘The Catalyst,” Estela interrupted. She blushed, a bit embarrassed for sounding rude, and then quickly stuck her hand out. 

“Also known as Isadora Taylor. So you’ve heard of me?” Isadora shook her hand and held on for a beat longer than Estela anticipated. 

Her hand was a bit cold but strong, skin undeniably soft. Estela caught herself staring into the face of her companion before she responded. She finally dropped her hand. 

“Diego told me about you when we got here. I’m supposed to be meeting you in the bedroom.” It was as though a fog had filled Estela’s head, and she had never felt more disconnected from her own thoughts. Control yourself, she ordered her brain. The people actually drinking that night were probably more coherent than she was. 

As Estela tried to focus again, she noticed the surprised expression across the beautiful girl’s face. 

“Diego told you that? Oh, wow, I thought he’d be a little more subtle. I apologize, unless you want to--” “Hang out with you and Diego in your room? He said he wanted us all to meet, I think.” Estela interrupted her for the second time that night, far more embarrassed the second time around. However, not nearly as embarrassed as the supposed “Catalyst”.

“Right, yeah, would you want to go do that?” 

These were the moments Estela tried to avoid. If she found herself in a room of strangers who didn’t know her limits... She wasn’t worried about being pressured into drinking not being overly sociable. She was worried that someone would ask why she looked so uncomfortable, out of place. Then she would think about her mother and the anger it brought her. Every red cup was a reminder in itself. 

“It’s really nice to meet you, but I think I should head home. Tomorrow is my studying day.” 

The disappointment was even clear to Estela, the girl who could never read a room. She felt guilty for whatever it was about her leaving that was upsetting. 

“Diego has some of my things that he keeps forgetting to give back to me. Mind if I tag along so I can grab it?”

“You’re going to leave your own party? 

The Catalyst laughed, as if this were her plan all along, to get every idiot on campus to infiltrate her apartment, and then to just leave. Estela didn’t quite say yes, but she didn’t complain about the shadow that followed her into the night. Sometimes having company was a little bit exciting. 

Estela’s prediction was partially right, though the entire campus could not fit into one house, the streets were quite quiet. 

“I’ve seen you around campus, you fall asleep in the library every Sunday. Has anyone ever told you about how coffee works?” So this girl was attentive; that scared Estela just as much as her heart quickened at the notion of someone being attentive of her. 

“Coffee doesn’t make me feel like myself, it just makes each thought harder to distinguish. My mind moves quick enough,” Estela explained. This earned a nod of understanding and a small smile. 

“I’m just teasing, I admire your commitment. You’re in pre-law, right?”

The night was still fairly warm even if it were void of light, and that was Estela’s favourite time of the day. There was something comforting about the warm early fall breeze, but also hiding in the darkness. 

“Yeah, I don’t mean to be cliche, but I guess I want to make a difference somewhere. Pre-law is a good start for now.” Estela didn’t bring up her mother, not when someone was showing real interest in her like that. 

“I believe you’ll make a difference,” her companion assured, strangely confident in her statement. “Every time I try working up the courage to talk to you, I feel a bit inferior, honestly.”

Estela laughed, the first genuine laugh in a fairly long time. “The people in your house right now think you’re the coolest person around town. What makes you feel inferior to someone like me?”

“There’s just something about you, I think. I’m going to sound insane, but I swear in another dimension you must have left quite an impression on me. I don’t know what that means. Maybe far away from here, we fight evil together or something.” She spoke playfully, but not without a note of sincerity. It was a weird thing to say to a stranger, but nothing about her made complete sense so far. 

Where did this girl come from? Estela had never enjoyed talking to anyone, let alone the girls she saw around campus. She wasn’t entirely sure this girl was even real, surely nobody could fascinate Estela that quickly.

“I would fight evil with you. That sounds exhausting though. I don’t drink coffee, remember?” 

“I drink too much coffee, possibly where all of these strange thoughts come from.” Was that nervous laughter? Estela was used to making people feel uncomfortable, but nervous was new. 

“Thank you for walking with me, by the way,” Estela offered, hoping to make her more comfortable. It was the truth too, their walk made going out that night certainly worth it. 

“I have to admit something, I had ulterior motives. Two, actually.”

Isadora stopped walking, her hand reaching out to gently grab Estela’s wrist, and then her hand, pulling Estela back slightly. An unexpected touch would normally put Estela on edge, but there wasn’t a single part of Estela that wanted to pull away. 

Isadora’s voice was almost musical, even when she spoke quickly and nervously. Estela could have listened to her talk nonsense all night, but something felt off. 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“I knew of you before Diego, before I’d ever seen you. I have really amazing friends here and sometimes those friendships reward me with strange nicknames I didn’t ask for. Other time, those friendships offer complicated and sensitive information.” She took a deep breath and met Estela’s eyes for a moment before looking away again. “I know you’re looking for a way to legally avenge your mother.”  Estela stared wide eyed in anticipation, but the more Isadora spoke, the more she suddenly wanted to run away. She seemed to sense that somehow. 

“Please don’t run off or anything, I know this is a lot coming from a stranger, but I need to explain. A friend of mine trusted me enough to tell me about a private case against his family. His dad, for that matter, and it’s only a matter of time before everybody knows about it.”

She watched Estela expectantly, anxious to see if she had overstepped. 

“Is Aleister finally going to testify?”

“Not for the night Rourke drove your mother home drunk, he has no proof, I’m sorry. But his father did a lot more than cause that accident, and he can’t buy his way out of what Aleister is building against him.”

“Why now?”

“There’s a lot I don’t know, but I convinced him that you should know. He understands what it’s like to lose a mother,” she explained mournfully. 

Estela had tears in her eyes but the underlying sadness of the circumstances weren’t in the front of her mind. Her chest tightened, restricting her air, and Isadora gripped her hand tightly. Estela had forgotten their hands were still intertwined. 

“I’ve wanted to properly meet you since the day I noticed you in the library, when I didn’t know it was you. I’m trusting a very strange feeling that I’m supposed to help you, Estela. I hope this doesn’t feel like an ambush.”

Her body finally relaxed and Estela let out a sigh of pure relief, and exhaustion. “I’ve waited so long for someone to finally say they could help me. I didn’t think it would ever happen,” she admitted incredulously. If she weren’t so stunned, she would have sobbed, and she hadn’t cried since the night her mother didn’t make it home. 

Catalyst, what a stupid nickname, and yet the one in front of her was bringing Estela the biggest change she could have asked for. If Rourke went away, her whole future would change. Everything she was working towards in school would have a different meaning, she could fight for something beyond herself. 

There weren’t any more words to describe how she felt, so against the traits encoded into Estela’s being, she grabbed the Catalyst by her waist and pulled her close. They leaned into each other and Estela’s face tipped down to meet waiting lips. Nothing tasted better than kissing girls in the middle of the night. It was unfairly seductive to feel her moan against Estela, a gentle body hum that made her press her thighs tighter together. Isadora had her arms around Estela’s neck, her fingers pulling gently at her hair. 

Estela would have forfeited every breath to remain in constant motion with the girl in her arms. Touching the skin where her shirt had ridden up, letting her tongue graze swollen lips. Estela held her upright, realizing they were slowly falling backwards. She finally smiled and pulled back just to avoid falling over in the street. 

“I feel like I’ve kissed you a hundred times,” Isadora whispered hesitantly. 

“I’m fairly certain I’d remember that, but with your permission I could kiss you a hundred times more,” Estela managed to articulate smoothly. 

“I only explained one of my motives, believe it or not, I followed you out the door for that kiss as well. You just beat me to it, but thankfully you have all night to apologize for stealing my moment.”

Estela nodded, no desire to argue with that, and said, “I have a million questions but for tonight, I can make a few apologies...” 

Note: It’s so hard to write without using names ahhh, so I did use my MC’s name here, but I try and avoid it to make the MC more universal! I will be writing some of my fan fiction in this style, and some written as “imagines” which I have more experience writing! I work late nights and never sleep so I apologize if certain parts don’t flow... 

Tagging: @edgydepressedchoicesthot @marmolady 

[there2is0more2to1life]

1 (790, 12k)

every day is just... getting worse. Spiraling.

I need to get my thoughts out, so here we go:

told my mum I was going to therapy again but I didn‘t want to talk about it because it was late. told her to wake me up tomorrow morning at 7am for an appt to figure out a way for insurance to cover the cost. she started making assumptions about why I‘m feeling like this, putting the blame on me for my situation.

i didn‘t sleep at all. not a second. i go to the doctors office to get an mri of my head bc of headaches, they put in the needle for a contrasting fluid and I almost faint. didn‘t eat the day before. the nurse asks me if I eat enough. I tell her yes, she doesn‘t believe me “your weight says otherwise“ „you should always eat breakfast“... embarrassed. she was nice though

mri is done, i go to my bf‘s place, exhausted. he is still in bed, cuddles me, then starts talking about breakfast and making offers of what I could have with him. I refuse, but let myself be convinced of a bite, I stare at half a piece of toast with cucumber, I fidget and wait, he offers to take half bc I‘m close to tears. for the rest of the day i feel shitty about that fourth of a bread slice (40) and coffee with milk (70)

12 am, my therapist appt - too much to say for one session - talk about clinics and options and my mum and how i feel. insists on seeing my scars and I let her, for the first time. beyond stressed and dizzy, barely walking up the stairs. she gives me work to do, message three more clinics, get some paperwork to the psychiatrists office. my brain isn‘t working, I write it down but forget what exactly she said.

Boyfriend picks me up, I fall into his arms and I‘m finally relieved for a second, but then I remember I have to get the document to the office the same day. my boyfriend suggests going shopping for bread and dips, he ends up buying cinnamon buns bc they smell good, i panic.

we get to his place, he wants to be intimate, I let myself fall for him, warm, safe.

memories flood my brain after. dark and i can‘t see. cold, unsafe.

he offers a bite of cinnamon bun, I try it (50), inside I‘m screaming, he puts on criminal minds and we cuddle. can‘t focus but I survive, I can feel, smell, see him as he reassures me with light hand squeezes.

doctors office, not sure what to do, just gonna drop off the document, maybe they know what to do, already stressed anxious confused, brain fog. i tell the receptionist about the form, she looks confused, gets my name and then remembers my therapist has already called. she is annoyed, points at the stack of documents that are still waiting, tells me those things take time, the doctor has to fill it in, faster isn‘t possible. i leave with the same document, guilty. ashamed.

the dark cloud is bigger than ever, i can barely hold it together on the train back home. i‘m at the train station, some men drinking, watch me walk by, hear one say „this is a good one but a bit small, short“ the other laughs. terrified. anxiety. walk away quickly, feels like i‘m being torn apart, like my body can‘t physically hold so many emotions, so much cold and darkness, thoughts. wishing I could get drugs to OD or at the very least forget, be numb. wishing I could leave this all behind.

come home, happy smile. make myself a salad (70), yoghurt (100), frozen soup (300), feeling like a failure. my sister offers chocolate (60), my brain calculates, little sister sad that nobody wants to try her homemade drink (100 more), defeated.

i wanna be better, i need to feel better, but how?

[cozyteez]

prince!yunho, II.

"... i am proud to be heir to the throne of this kingdom, and i will do everything i can and more to make sure that narameth is proud to have me as their prince."

yunho set the speech down on the table in front of him and immediately began to pace back and forth

"what are you doing?"

xenia was leaned back in her chair, watching him shake his hands as if there were bugs all over them. with only two days left before the big day, he was beginning to feel a little bit anxious and the run-through he just did made it all little too real for him

"huh?"

he kept walking, inhaling, shaking, walking, exhaling

"that. with your hands."

yunho looked down and stopped shaking them, but immediately began to rub them down his pants

"i think i'm starting to get nervous about all of this...."

"you'll be fine, trust me. the speech is great, everyone already thinks you're great, it'll be great."

yunho just sort of nodded, obviously too lost in his thoughts to really listen. xenia saw this and began to quickly brainstorm ways to take his mind off of it completely

"you know what? how about afterwards i make sure my schedule is totally clear and i get my father to leave out a cake recipe for us in the kitchen. we can bake you a birthday cake, then eat it for dinner, and maybe watch some movies too?"

he took one last deep breath and finally stopped pacing

"that sounds nice"

"now," she quickly gathered her things and stood up "i'm going to go to bed because i've been awake for 17 hours, and i think you should too"

yunho nodded as he started to calm down, she was right. maybe he should sleep it off.

-

three hours later he's tossing and turning in his bed, trying anything to make his brain just shut up. it was like he was arguing with himself except he didn't even want to. he just wanted to sleep.

'it's gonna be fine, the speech was approved by the advising panel and they said it was great'

'yeah, but what if you mess it up? or it flies off the podium while you deliver it? then what?'

'i can just memorize the speech, it's pretty short and i did write it after all...'

'yeah okay hotshot, do you remember the first time you gave a presentation? your forgot your own name'

'everybody already likes me and they know i'm young, they'll be forgiving if i mess up a little bit'

'they don't even know you. they'll think you're unfit to be king and -'

that's when he swung his feet over the side of his bed and almost mindlessly went down one floor and to the left, straight to xenia's room without a second thought

as kids they'd always sneak into each other's rooms and stay up late, often falling asleep together only to be found the next morning by a caretaker or one of their parents. the first time it happened it was yunho who snuck into xenia's room, and that almost caused a lot more trouble than what it was worth. almost.

he was only 6 and the caretaker went to wake him up the morning after he snuck out, but his bed unmade and he wasn't anywhere to be seen. to this day, nobody has ever seen the queen more upset than she was that morning when the caretaker came rushing into the breakfast room yelling 'the prince is gone! the prince is gone!'

so the queen, the king, the caretaker, and pretty much all available castle staff began searching everywhere for yunho. they closed off all entrances and exits to the castle, nobody was allowed in or out until the prince was found

meanwhile, xenia's mother had gone to go wake her daughter and when she opened the door and turned the light on, she immediately got the nearest staff to fetch the king and queen. she had found yunho sound asleep with his thumb in his mouth curled up in the corner of her daughter's bed, who was somehow sprawled out over most of it despite how small her 6-year-old body was

the queen rushed into the room and scooped up yunho, who immediately wrapped himself around his her and stuck his thumb back into his mouth, too tired from staying up so late to realize what was happening

over breakfast their parents gave them a rather stern talking to about how it's not okay to leave without anybody knowing where you go, because then everyone will think something bad happened

so two days later when yunho really wanted to play a game after bedtime, he simply found some paper and a crayon and left a note regarding his whereabouts before happily setting off to his friend's room

'i am going two nias room. i am safe. love, yunho'

and now yunho's at xenia's door, palms sweaty and hands shaky, about to do the same secret knock they developed almost 15 years ago

as expected, she takes a while to answer. he knew she'd be asleep and began to feel a little bit guilty when he heard her groan and drag her sleepy body across her room

"you better be dying or i - hey, what's wrong?"

yunho begins a rapid fire that xenia was not ready for of all his apprehensions and worries about the speech and how it'll be perceived. he followed xenia back to her bed while she tried her best to let him know she was (sort of) listening by sprinkling in some "yeah"s and "uh huh"s for every couple of sentences that came out of yunho's mouth.

xenia crawled onto her side of the bed as yunho got onto his, still going on about every possible thing that could go wrong

finally, xenia had enough and cut him off

"so why are you here again?"

"well... because i can't sleep, so -"

"well, i can. so just sleep here and don't wake me up again or i'm going to be tried for treason because i killed narameth's only heir to the throne"

"oh. sorry...."

"don't be sorry just be quiet"

so they laid there in silence, xenia taking mere seconds to fall back asleep as yunho laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. his hands were resting on top of his torso and he tried to match his breathing to hers, thinking it would somehow make him sleepy

eventually the voices in his head did die down as exhaustion fogged his brain, and he was finally able to fall asleep

-

the next morning yunho wasn't at breakfast. usually the king would ask someone to go wake him up, but today the queen had managed to convinced him otherwise

"let him sleep darling, i'm sure he needs it. slow day today anyways"

an hour goes by and there's still no sign of yunho, so the queen goes to wake him up herself only to find his bed and room empty, the same way she'd found it many times before

she smiled a bit to herself as she walked down to xenia's room, happy that yunho still seems to have a best friend in her despite the fact that both of their lives have gotten exponentially more busy and exhausting over the last couple of years

the queen gently knocked on the door once, twice, then three times before leaning against it

"xenia? sweetheart? is yunho in there with you?"

as soon as she was done talking she heard something heavy hit the ground, followed by xenia's undeniable laughter

they both woke up to the sound of his mother's knocking, and as soon as she began to speak he looked at the clock and realized he slept through breakfast and was probably about to be late to god knows what

so, he leaped out of bed to go get ready for the day. well, he tried to anyways

instead his foot got caught in the comforter and he fell down onto his side, hitting his elbow pretty badly

"... is he alright?"

both xenia and yunho answered her and the same time

"yes" "no"

yunho chucked a pillow that he'd taken down with him at her face

"hey! my elbow really hurts and it's because of your stupid blanket"

he began to flail around in an attempt to untangle his foot as she just kept laughing while hugging the pillow yunho had thrown into her face, her contagious laugh eventually spreading to yunho

by this point the queen had walked away, she always felt a little bit guilty for pushing yunho so hard. he deserved a slow morning

their laughter died down but their smiles never faded

"so do you feel a little bit better about the speech tomorrow?"

"actually, i do. thank you"

"yeah, yeah."

she dismissed his gratitude and began to look around her bed

"...wait. what time is it?"

"uhhh like 10:35?"

"holy - oh my god i'm late" she began to scramble off the bed and towards her closet to find some clothes to wear, bypassing yunho who was still sprawled out on the floor with his foot somehow still stuck in the bedding "yunho! get out!"

"uh, right. sorry." he scrambled to his feet, almost tripping again as he got his foot unstuck at the last possible second. xenia came up behind him and started pushing him towards the door "okay! okay, i'm going! geez!"

just as she was closing the door on him, he stuck his head near the opening

"don't forget to brush your hair, it looks like a bird's nest!"

and with that, she pushed the door in his face and rushed back to her closet to throw on some clothes

as she got dressed she shook her head to herself and smiled. of all the people she could've gotten stuck with in this castle, despite the fact the he just made her late and called her hair messy, she was glad it was him.

[bellygunnr]

trade a house or two

December 23rd, 2009

It’s frigid when you and your brother land in Boston. The night sky is overcast with thick cloud cover that tumbles over itself with some high-speed current some fifteen thousand feet above, spitting bits of snow and ice onto the tarmac and decorating your shoulders with the frost. You try to stop to catch your breath, take in the world around you, but your brother has better ideas. He gathers up his things and is off like a shot, following the meandering line of fellow passengers back into the airport. You pursue him, unwilling to lose sight of him so quickly.

He disappears inside three beats ahead of you. You’re forced to stall and wait as a larger family follows suit, shepherding themselves inside and letting the door swing shut behind. With numb hands, you coax it back open, sighing when your glasses fog up. Afraid to move, you press yourself against the wall, out of the way of everyone, to wipe them clean. The heat of the airport coaxes blood back into your hands and face, creating a tingling soreness. How cold it must have been, for this to happen so quickly. You’re not eager to brave it again.

“Gordon! Gordon, I found Uncle Isaac! Come on!”

Your brother’s voice is loud, rising easily over the din of the crowd. You locate him easily once your glasses are back on, which saps a surprising amount of tension from your shoulders. He’s a bright yellow beacon against muted blues and grays and reds, rapidly approaching. The wheels of your suitcase squeak as you walk to meet him halfway.

Uncle Isaac. You can’t help but feel excited, relieved, and a little bit guilty all at once. You’d be able to exist freely here, but your brother had been happy at home. He had had friends, a team, and an expanding understanding of where he fit in the world. You’re ashamed to admit that you have no idea what he thinks about this, but you’re glad that you didn’t have to leave him behind. You’ve tolerated, even survived, many things so far, but losing your brother-- that would have been the final straw. That would have broken you.

You hope he settles in fine here. You hope that he doesn’t hate you, or resent you, for breaking apart the fine steps of Seattle. For taking the family bonds and breaking them, even as your brain supplies evidence to the contrary.

You feel anxious and sick and cold, now, even as sweat builds up beneath your coat and scarf and coats your palms. At some point, you’ve come to a stop, and both John and Uncle Isaac are peering at you with concern. You smile despite yourself.

“I’m okay,” you sign, hoping that that’s what they’re looking for.

“It’s good to see you both in fine spirits, then,” Uncle Isaac says, smiling. “Do either of you have gloves? It’s terribly cold outside.”

“We forgot to pack them,” John admits. “So no! But it’s okay, we have pockets!”

As if you both weren’t hauling suitcases. You shrug, trying to look apologetic.

“Well, then you’re both going to wait here while I pull the car up front. It’s a bit of a walk and I don’t want either of you to get hurt,” Isaac says decisively. “Well, not here, but at the front doors.”

“Fine,” John says, frowning.

You can only nod agreement as you both fall into step behind your uncle. He’s a tall man, scraping six feet, with brown hair swept over to hide a receding hairline. He’s skinny, but looks bigger with all the winter gear. An electronic board states that the temperature outside is negative, and the snow is getting heavy.

You’re probably very lucky your flight wasn’t cancelled or aborted.

You rest your arms and head down on your suitcase as once again, you’re stopped, left to wait with your brother as Uncle Kleiner braves the outside. The flight was long, extended to a single day to three because of inclimate weather not unlike this.

“It’s good to be getting out of airports,” John says, affecting a similar posture. His voice is muffled from where his face rests into a poofy arm sleeve, stifling a yawn. “I can’t wait to lie down in a bed. And it’s Christmas break, so we won’t be starting school right away, either.”

It was the holidays, wasn’t it? You suddenly feel overwhelmed all over again. Without thinking, you reach out to grab John’s shoulder, grounding yourself on the solidness of his presence. The texture of his coat is smooth, damp where snow had melted into it. You pull at the fabric, observing how the overhead lights shine dully off it.

“You good, Gordon? You’ve been acting weird,” John says, leveling you with a look.

The look said many things. You weren’t willing to acknowledge them, so you just bury your head, even as it forces the bridge of your glasses to dig into your skin.

A heavy weight wraps around your shoulders. John’s arm, then his torso, pressing right against your frame. A hug, you register a second later.

“Come on, it’s gonna be okay, man. We’ll get to Isaac’s and it’s gonna be okay. He’s a doctor, you know. Doctors always know best, or whatever.”

John’s voice is soothing overhead, even as it cracks. You can’t suppress a snort at the humor of it, earning you a half-hearted thump of mock indignation. It’s a pleasant distraction from the crowded, noisy airport, the din of which had been grating on your brain for what felt like hours now. It made you tense and itchy, compounding with the anxiety already playing at heart.

“I kinda wish he would have just let us walk with him,” John continues. “It’s loud in here, and those lights are gonna drive me insane.”

The hum of electronics was a phantom sound that haunted you both. Right now, you weren’t willing to strain for it, so you just tighten your grip on John’s shoulder. You can’t help but admire John’s ability to weather the sheer amount of sensory input without breaking down.

Then again, he’s always been good at it. You offer him a slight smile.

He smiles back, patting your opposite arm, before turning to the glass doors ahead. “Uncle’s back. He has a big car…”

You both gather your things up, already in motion even as Isaac appears from out of his car. It is a big vehicle-- a four-door SUV of some kind, a white that gets lost in the building flurry. You can’t help but feel anxious, but you put your suitcases in the back and climb inside.

John takes front, leaving you to take a back seat. This is not as bad as Isaac seems keen to believe. You sink into the seat as the vehicle rolls into motion, smooth and guided by fierce headlights.

You don’t fall asleep on the way to your new home, like John does. You let your head fall against the cold tinted window and watch the cityscape transform beneath the snowfall, blurry shapes and street lamps. You run your fingers through your curls as you do so, a constant, rhythmic motion that steadies your building anxiety.

-

Isaac’s home is a wooden apartment slotted between stone shops, worn down on the front but pleasant inside. It’s a dusty interior with hardwood floors and old furniture, well-taken care of to your untrained eye. Curtains and plastic are fastened to the windows facing the outside, something you’ve never seen before. To keep the cold out, Uncle Isaac says upon catching your eye.

“But it’s warmer inside, so come along now,” he says, ushering you both into the kitchen. “Your rooms are upstairs. Are you boys hungry?”

“I’m not,” John says, already heading for the stairs. The clock on the wall, just above the stove, reads close to one in the morning.

You’re not hungry either, so you wordlessly climb up the stairs with your brother. The suitcases thunk out of sync with each other, creating an awkward beat to walk to. You feel a little bad for brushing off your uncle like this, but you’re tired. Everyone’s tired, really.

You follow your brother into the first room without much thought. The door to a second room is clearly ajar, but you don’t want to be alone just yet. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after.  You’re glad John doesn’t mention it.

But you tap his shoulder, fetch his attention, threaten to break the spell.

“Are you okay?” you ask as soon as he looks at you.

“Just tired,” he says, yawning. “What about you?”

“...Okay,” you say after a moment.

The wind can be heard outside as you both shuck off your winter gear, tossing it all aside with the carelessness of travelers finally arriving home. The bed, a narrow twin, creaks as John flops down into it. The frame shudders as you follow suit, huffing as the depressed mattress just sends you sliding against your brother.

“Move over,” he grunts, shoving you aside. You try to, clinging to the outer edge with the spare pillow as purchase. “Good night, Gordon.”

The bed creaks with one last adjustment. You set your glasses aside, surrendering clarity for blurry shapes, and fall asleep the instant your head hits the pillow.

[thdorkmagnet]

The Deal (Star is Rapunzel AU part 2)

Summary: A series of one-shots and multi-chapters proving why Star Butterfly should be considered a Disney Princess, as Star and company take over the roles of all your favorite Disney Princess characters! (Starco inevitable)

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction! 

Disclaimer: Star vs and all its characters are owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney. Tangled belongs to Disney. All rights go to their respective owners.

Click for part 1

After several failed attempts to stuff the boy into her large closet, Star was finally able to get the unconscious intruder inside and hidden (with no help from Janna), without being relatively harmed. She took a few steps back, taking deep, calming breaths, as her mind raced out of control. “Okay, okay, everything's good, Star,” the girl reassured herself, before she continued her incoherent ramble. Meanwhile, Janna was busy riffling though the satchel Marco had been wearing.  “You just have someone locked in your closet. Someone who could be dangerous if he managed to get out. But, who am I kidding, that won't happen. Besides, this is your big chance, all you need to do is wait for mom to get back and then show her what you did. Nothing bad could happen before then, right Janna?”

Star looked over at her bat friend, but Janna was still buried deep into the brown leather bag and  the blond huffed. “Janna, get out of there!” she scolded, actually managing to grab her attention, as she sat up from the satchel with wide, brown eyes. Star stomped over to the animal and snatched the satchel up and out of her grip. “You don't know where that's been!”

Janna flew up and opened the satchel once again, reaching her claws into the bag, despite Star's protest. “Janna, no! We don't know what's in there, there could be something dangerous or bad or-”

Star's voice cut off, as the small fluffy bat pulled out something the blond had never seen before from the depths of the bag. It was golden object of some kind, shimmering and dazzling even in the dim light of the tower and Star became entranced in the thing's beauty and mystery, dropping the satchel without a second thought.

And yet something about it just felt familiar. Though she couldn't recall how, exactly. She took the golden thing out of Janna's claws and began studying it closely. “I've... seen this before,” she admitted, as she turned the object around in her hands, over and over again, trying to recall where she could have seen it. “But I don't know where.” She got a few bizarre flashes, seeing a room bathed in light as a sun spun lazily around in a circle over and over again, in a soothing manner. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember anymore, just small bits and pieces of a memory long forgotten. Her brain throbbed as it tried to fight against the fog that consumed her mind.

She shook her head, trying to clear it of the pestering thoughts, focusing instead on what this thing was. “Hmm, any ideas what this is?” she asked her bat friend, who shrugged. Star brought it closer to her face, examining every inch of its polished frame, even biting on it, in hopes of this providing some form of clue, but it did no good.

Finally, Star was stumped, giving up in defeat, as she retrieved the satchel off the floor and shoved the shiny object back inside it. “Well, whatever it is, mom definitely shouldn't see it,” she said. “I'll have to hide this, too.”

Janna made a small squeak and Star turned to her in surprise. “What?” Reading Janna's expression, Star said, “You want to hide it?”

The purple bat nodded, before flying up and grabbing the bag out of her friend's hands. She quickly pulled up one of the loose floorboards of the stairs, revealing a small place to stash stuff. “Huh, I didn't even know that was here,” Star commented, from over the bat's shoulder. Janna quickly stuffed the bag into the hidden area amongst the dust and cobwebs, before sealing it back.

Once, the small creature was finished, she turned to her owner with a smug look. “Well, I coulda hid it somewhere good, too,” Star defended herself, though she refused to meet Janna's gaze.

Janna looked over at a decorative pot, before turning back to Star with knowing skepticism, implying that she knew Star's first hiding place would be in the most obvious place possible.

Star began scoffing, crossing her arms across her chest. “No, I wouldn't have hid it in there,” she denied frantically, though her tone was more condemning to the small bat than convincing. “I would have hid it... uhh...” Star looked around the room for an idea. “In my room. Under my bed,” she said hesitantly.

Janna gave her a look that told her, Like-that-would-be-much-better. Star opened her mouth to retort, but before she could there was a call from outside. “Star!”

Star gasped. “It's mom!” she shouted in a panic and quickly raced over to the window, nearly tripping over her own hair in her haste. She saw her mother's smiling face from below and quickly hooked her hair before pushing it over the edge for her mom to grab. She wasted almost no time in once again hauling her up the side of the tower. Once Eclipsa was back inside, the woman gave her an immediate hug saying, “Oh Star dear. I am so sorry for arguing with you like that. You know I hate fighting with you.”

“It's okay, mom,” the blond said quickly, giving her a small squeeze before pulling away and skipping backwards over to the closet. “Sooo, mom, I was thinking about what you said about the floating lights-”

“Darling let's just forget about the stars for a while,” Eclipsa said softly but dismissively, as she set the things out of her basket she had gathered. “Why don't you help your mother make your favorite for dinner, candy casserole.”

Star was determined to continue though, hand slowly grasping the chair that sealed the closet doors closed. “Yeah, that sounds great but first I want to show you something. I have a bit of a surprise.”

Eclipsa sighed and turned to her daughter saying exasperatedly, “Star, I thought we talked about this? You aren't leaving the tower, it isn't safe.”

“Yes, but I-”

“No, Star we are done discussing this,” her mother argued firmly.

“But if you would just listen-”

“Enough Star!” Eclipsa yelled, finally losing her calm. “You are staying here and that is final! I won't allow you to leave this tower, ever!”

Star froze, her hand pulling away from the chair, as she gave her mother a long, sad look.

Eclipsa stared at her silently for a moment, studying her daughter's depressed face, before saying, “I don't enjoy raising my voice to you Star. But you know the rules. I don't know why you insist on breaking them. Do you really care so little about how that makes me feel?”

Star felt shame fill her insides and she took an instinctive step away from the closet, giving a very nervous chuckle. “Uh, yeah, who cares about floating lights, anyway? I certainty don't,” she said in a far too forced tone, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible but instead came across as extremely awkward. She wrapped her arms around herself defensively, her eyes gazing back at the closet thoughtfully. She bit her lip, doing a quick silent debate within, before swallowing down the lump in her throat and adding, “I, um, was only going to say that I figured out what I want for my birthday.”

“What's that?” Eclipsa asked softly.

“Some new paint,” the girl said with a shrug. “The ones you brought me that one time from the place really far away.”

Eclipsa gave her daughter a confused look. “Which ones?”

“You know that time you were gone for like two days and they were in these weird seashell things and-”

Eclipsa held up a hand to silence her, “Yes, yes. I do remember now, thank you.” She walked over to her daughter, wrapping her up in a hug, as she asked, “Are your certain that is what you want, darling?”

Star nodded. “Yeah, I'm sure. It was some of the best paint I ever had and it would definitely be a better gift than seeing some dumb stars.” She was thankful her mom had hugged her, because there was no way she could hide the guilty frown from her mom as she blatantly lied to her. But as she felt her releasing her from the hug, Star quickly put on a forced grin, as she stared into her mom's searching eyes. “Are you sure you will be alright all alone for so long?”

Star scoffed, waving a hand in the air. “I'll be fine, mom. I'll just hang out here... like I always do. I can just watch the floating lights from my window, it's much better that way, anyway.”

Her mother gave her a long look before asking suspiciously, “And you won't try and leave-”

“Mom, trust me,” Star said, giving her the most innocent grin she could, while crossing her fingers behind her back.

Eclipsa's face softened, before she leaned over and kissed her daughter's head, saying, “Very well then, darling. If that is what you really want.”

Star breathed a mental sigh of relief as she helped her mother quickly pack a bag of supplies, her mother leaving a few minutes later, wanting to get a head start on the long journey. She gave Star one last hug, the girl swallowing down the guilt she felt rising up inside her. It's too late now, she reminded herself. There's no going back. Star waved down to her mother, as she watched her turn and blow a final, departing kiss, before disappearing from sight.

The second Eclipsa was gone, Star quickly pulled away, now pacing back and forth around the room, not even bothering to remove her hair from the hook in her worry. She was wringing her hands together over and over again, as she let out little, anxious moans of distress. She heard a tiny squeak and froze, looking over to see Janna perched on the back of a chair giving her a piercing gaze which Star instantly interpreted. “Yeah, I know, I panicked!” she shouted, throwing her hands up in desperation. “But you heard mom, she's never going to let me leave! And if she found out somebody managed to get in her, she'd be even more freaked!” Janna nodded her head in agreement at that. Star tapped a finger thoughtfully to her chin. “If I'm going to go see the floating lights, I need a new plan.” Star racked her brain for a moment, desperately searching for some kind of idea, before looking down at her bat friend. “You got any ideas?”

Janna pointed her wing over at the closet and Star followed her gaze, wide-eyed. There was a second of pause before Star said wistfully, “Ohhhhhh.”

…

Marco woke slowly, moaning in pain as his head throbbed with an unbearable headache. "Ugh, what hit me?" He muttered, waiting for the aching in his brain to stop. Finally it subsided enough that the boy was able to open up his eyes, blinking as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the lack of light. But as he did he noticed a small purple bat holding a lit match close to him and he screamed in fear. "No! Shoo, get out of here!" He tried to wave a hand at it to scare it away, but to his surprise he found his hands were trapped in place. A quick glance down tripled Marco's fears, as he found his arms, legs and torso tied tightly to a chair. Marco began screaming a girlishly high voice, "What's happening?! Where am I?! Why am I tied up?! Is this hair? Why am I tied up with hair?!" "Because that's what you get for breaking into my tower!" Marco's head snapped up as he tried to trace the voice from the darkness. "Who said that? Who's there?" Marco shouted his eyes scanning the shadows around him. Suddenly a form began to creep into view, stepping delicately into the light, and the boy had to fight every instinct in his body to keep his mouth from dropping open. It was a girl with flowing blond hair, very long hair that stretched out across the floor and around the entire length of the castle before leading up to the chair he was tied up to. And if that was not startling enough, she was also quite beautiful, her pale face pretty and fair, and her purple dress equally cute. She was barefoot and had piercing blue eyes that Marco just knew he could remain lost in for all of eternity. He might have even found her presence comfortable if she wasn't currently frowning at him, her eyes full of fire, as she held  a frying pan threateningly as a weapon. The girl ceased her glaring long enough to turn to the bat, still with a lit match in its claws, and said, "Thanks Janna. I can take it from here." The boy and bat shared a look for a second, the winged creature seeming to almost be glaring at him, before it flew up toward the ceiling. Marco quickly recovered from his shock, as he struggled against his bonds, shouting, "What is going on?" "I'll tell you what's going on, you broke into my home so you could steal my hair," Star said coldly, pointing an accusing finger in the boys face. "What? N-No!" Marco stuttered in confusion. What was this crazy girl talking about? "I didn't know anyone was living here and I definitely wasn't going to try and steal your hair!" "Likely story," the girl said suspiciously, leaning in closer to the boy's face, causing the boy to slightly blush, despite the situation. "Now fess up, tell me how you found this place?!" "Look it was a total accident!" Marco quickly said, trying to calm the agitated blond, keeping his voice at the most innocent and nonthreatening tone he could. "I was running from this horse, I saw your tower and I climbed it, okay? That's it. End of story." The girl stared at him long and hard, her gaze unwavering and the boy felt his cheeks continuing to flush, his body growing hot and sweaty. He wasn't used to being this close to a girl, especially one as beautiful or crazy as this one. "You're sure your not here to steal my hair?" she asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm positive," the boy replied, trying to keep the squeak out of his voice. The intense moment stretched out for far too long, as the girls icy blue eyes narrowed and she seemed to be unsure whether she believed him or not. Marco became afraid his heart might explode it was pumping so fast and he was certain that at the very least this girl could hear the constant noisy hammering of his organ, it was basically impossible to miss. He tried to swallow but his throat was too dry for such an act and he instead let out a raspy, anxious cough. "So uh, can you untie me now?" He somehow managed out and the girl at last pulled away from him, though she still kept a quizzical gaze on him, and Marco had to fight the urge to let out a relieved sigh, as his heartbeat finally slowed. "I have to discuss this with my friend first," the blond said plainly. Wait? Was there someone else in this tower he hadn't seen yet. Marco did a quick look around the tower but saw no one else. He figured it would make sense that this girl wouldn't be alone but still... Then to his surprise, he saw that the blond was talking to the small purple bat, who sat perched on her hand, whispering softly under her breath so Marco couldn't hear. Okay, he really needed to get out of here, this girl had clearly lost her mind. He struggled in the chair pulling against the surprisingly strong hair wrapped around his wrists, trying anything that would get him out of this tower and away from the crazy blond that held him hostage. Finally the girl seemed to finish her conversation, turning back to him and the boy halted his struggle.  "Alright," she said, giving him a stony stare. "I'm prepared to offer you a deal." "A deal?" Marco questioned worriedly, the last thing he wanted was to negotiate with her, terrified of what exactly she wanted from him. He swallowed down the lump of fear in his throat as he risked asking, "What kind of deal?" "I'll let you go if you take me to see the floating lights," she said. "Floating..  lights," Marco repeated, his fears confirmed. Yep, she was definitely bananas. "Yeah you know the big lights that appear in the sky once every year. See look," She pointed over to her painting and Marco stared at it quizzically. "Um, what am I looking at?" He asked, squinting, trying to make out the poorly drawn picture. "Duh, it's me at the floating lights," Star explained in annoyance. "Is that a spider?" Marco asked. Star turned back to the picture for a second, before whipping back around to face the boy. "Okay never mind the drawing." She walked toward the boy, demanding, "The point is you are going to take me go see the floating lights and then bring me safely back home." "And if I refuse," the boy asked, a hint of anxiety in his tone. "Then you never see your purse ever again," Star threatened. Marco rolled his eyes, before explaining, "It's a satchel not a purse." Then, her threat finally registering, he began to frantically look around the tower, straining against the ropes as he desperately searched for his missing item. "Oh no! My satchel, where is it?!" "I've hidden it somewhere you'll never find it," Star said smugly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Janna gave her a knowing look from her perch on the blond's shoulder, which Star ignored. Marco finally stopped, giving the girl a narrowed glare. "Oh great so your a thief too! Anything else I should add to your resume?" He asked with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. Star huffed. "Hey don't forget you broke in here first, mister.  And unless you take me to see the floating lights, I can promise you you will never find your precious purse," she threatened poking him in the chest with her finger. "Satchel," Marco corrected. "and I don't even know what these floating lights are? How can I even take you there?" "How do you not know?!" Star asked in exasperation. “They're big lights up in the sky that only appear once every year!" Suddenly something clicked in Marco's brain as he finally remembered hearing many of the citizens of Corona talking about something along those lines when he had been sneaking through the town. "Ohhh right, the lantern things," he said without thinking. The blond gasped, before her face broke out into a wide beam as she grabbed the boy by the collar and moved to within inches of his face, her eyes shimmering like her namesake. "You know what they are?!" Marco tried to answer her, his voice squeaking against his will once more from her startling close contact. "Yes! No! Sorta!" The girl's eyebrows narrowed in the cutest way (wait, what was he thinking? she kidnapped him!) As she asked carefully, "Well which one is it?" "Get out of my face and I'll tell you," Marco demanded, his face painted red. Star obeyed, though didn't release her grip on his collar, tipping his chair slightly toward her. Marco coughed to clear his surprisingly tight throat. What was wrong with him? Why was he feeling this way, she was just a girl after all. He had seen them before, so why was she so effortlessly making his heart float, feeling it was separate from his chest. "Look all I know is the people of a nearby kingdom saying something about these lanterns that they use to celebrate their princess or something, okay." Star squealed and turned over her shoulder to shout at her pet, "Do you hear that, Janna? They are real, I knew it!" She didn't even wait for Janna to reply as she whipped her head back around to face the startled boy, who jumped at the sudden action. "So then mister intruder, how about it? You scratch my feet, I give you yours-" "That's not how that saying goes," Marco interrupted. "-We help each other," Star finished, giving him a wide and innocent smile. Marco sighed trying to think of a way out of this situation. "Look you seem..." the thief paused trying to think of the right word to use here. "Well unstable honestly. But even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't, I'm not exactly welcomed over there." "Oh, did you break into someone else's house there too," Star commented sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“No!” Marco retorted sharply, before adding hesitantly, “I... uh... just sorta... stole something.”

Star stated at him blankly for a moment, before commenting, “And you called me a thief?”

The boy in red rolled his eyes, before saying exasperatedly, “The point is if I go back there I'll be arrested, so I'm not taking you.”

Star gave a nonchalant shrug. “Well then I guess you're leaving empty handed,” she replied carelessly, leaning an arm against the back of the chair in a casual gesture, pretending to be indifferent one way or the other.

The boy could easily see through the ploy and tried a different tactic, “How can you expect me to travel with you, you knocked me out and tied me to a chair! No offense but you don't seem exactly like the most trustworthy type.”

But the girl was quick to counter, pointing out, “Well if anything I'm the one who shouldn't be trusting you, after all you did break into my home and are apparently a wanted criminal.”

Marco opened his mouth to reply, but stopped knowing there was some truth to that statement, instead changing the subject once again, “But I don't even know your name!”

“It's Star,” the girl admitted instantly, before inquiring, “And you are.”

The boy let out a deep breath, not sure if he should give this girl his real name or not. She had given him literally no reason to trust her, but for some reason the boy found himself saying, “Marco. Marco Diaz.”

Star looked almost as surprised as he did that he had actually given out his name (even though she had her doubts it was his real one), but she continued despite her obvious shock, “Okay, look Marco, I know this is a weird request and everything but seeing these things has been my dream since I was little. I've lived my whole life stuck in here and all that's kept me going through all the boring, boring days was thinking about seeing the floating lights in person. And now that you're here, this might be my only chance to get to see them, so please... would you help me?”

Marco was caught off guard by just how sincere and open she was being admitting this to him that he began to feel sympathy for her plight. Her eyes were begging, the deep blue nearly hypnotic to him, and he would be lying if he said that they didn't tug at his heartstrings.

He began to think about this crazy girl in a whole new light, seeing her as more than an enemy or nuisance, and instead got a really good, genuine look at her and who she was for time since he had woken up. Sure she had basically kidnapped him but he did barge into her home and frightened her. If anything he was at fault here and she was clearly beyond desperate to leave this place. It reminded him of himself, honestly, back when he had been just a young child in an orphanage, dreaming of a better life, of adventure and freedom. He understood her need, probably better than most ever did. And yeah, they were still a bit more extreme than he would have liked but her heart was still in the right place, even if her actions were not.

So despite the risk, despite the worry, despite his most basic of instincts telling him this was a bad idea, he instead found himself asking, “So all I have to do is take you to go see these floating lights and then take you back and you'll give me back my satchel.” He searched her eyes for conformation, ignoring his skipping heartbeat from maintaining eye contact with her for too long.

“I promise,” Star said, keeping her gaze steady with him, silently conveying her trustworthiness to him.

Marco sucked in a breath. I'm so gonna regret this. “All right, I'll take you to go see the floating lights,” he finally said and Star gasped in joy and shock.

“Really?!” she exclaimed, hugging her arms close to her chest in excitement. But her letting go of the still tilted chair, caused the whole thing to tip over, sending it and Marco crashing to the floor with a loud bang and equally loud cry of pain from the young thief. Star cringed, calling down sheepishly, “Sorry.”

The boy lay with his face pressed uncomfortably against the floor, a frown plastered on his face as he groaned,“Ugh, I should have just let myself get arrested.”

…

A few minutes later, Marco was slowly making his way down the tower, using the same arrows from before to climb down the tower's side. He looked back up to where Star was, leaning out the window and watching his descent. “You coming!” Marco called up to her and she said nothing, so he merely shrugged and continued the monotonous task, wondering if the blond would actually have the guts to follow. She had seemed so eager and energetic about leaving before, but she was clearly having second thoughts now.

Star, meanwhile, was taking deep, steadying breaths as she looked down at the world waiting below, her heart was hammering so much she was afraid it might explode. Her hair was already secured to the hook and she was leaning against it heavily as she stared at the dizzying heights beneath her bare feet. “Okay, Star, you got this,” she reminded herself, whispering under her breath. “Just the single biggest moment of your life, no pressure.” She tightened her grip on her hair, looking over at her familiar bat friend flying beside her. “You ready Janna?”

The bat looked indifferent either way, shrugging her wings and Star let out a breath. “Wish I was as confident as you,” she muttered, before directing her attention back to the ground below. “Here I go...” she said as bravely as she could, clenching her eyes shut for a second.

Marco had just reached the ground when he heard Star scream, “Look out below!” He looked up just in time to see Star dive off the side of the tower and fall straight down at a breakneck speed, using her hair as a make-shift rope for her descent. Irrational panic took over as he tried to get into a good position to catch her, just in case she couldn't stop herself in time and didn't die on impact with the ground.

Star just giggled incessantly as she felt the cold air rush around her, which was quite pleasant against her face. She closed her eyes and just relished the feeling of weightlessness that consumed her body. But hearing a squeak beside her, her eyes shot open as she realized she was getting too close to the ground and heeded Janna's warnings as she yanked against her hair-rope bringing her to an instant stop, her body just inches from Marco's outstretched arms, waiting to catch her. She looked over at the teen who blushed and said nervously, “I'll, uh, just go stand over there.” He quickly retreated to the small river and Star watched his form for only a second before her eyes jumped back to the unfamiliar grass waiting below her.

She took in a deep breath and bravely lowered her legs down to the forest floor, letting her toes gently feel the soft grass. She giggled as the blades tickled her feet and with new found courage laid down in the grass, feeling a gentle breeze blow against her. She had never experienced sensations like this before, being sheltered inside the lonely tower her whole life. She had dreamed of this moment for so long and now that it was here, nothing she imagined could come close to right now.

Star took in a deep breath, the scent of grass and dirt and just the outside filled her nostrils and left goosebumps on her skin. After another few moments of enjoyment, she rose and ran over to the trickling stream, splashing into the water and spraying the startled Marco next to her. He let out a startled yelp but Star didn't notice as she just scooped up a big handful of water and threw it up into the air, letting it splashdown on her face, with another loud laugh. The cool moisture felt good on her skin and she shook her head to relieve herself of the water, running instead toward the entrance, as fast as her body would take her, her hair trailing behind her and her excitement ever building in her chest.

“Hey wait!” Marco called after her, running to keep up. Star barely heard him as she passed through the vegetated curtain and out into the real world for the first time in her entire life. Her smile was wide and her eyes were shimmering as she took in every sight around her, twisting around and around in an attempt to see it all. Marco finally caught up with her, watching her silently for a moment. Her joy was so infectious that despite everything he couldn't help but smile for her, inwardly glad to see her happiness and was again reminded of himself and how free and content he had felt when he had first been out on his own. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

He looked over beside him to see the same bat from before giving him a long, almost smirking stare and the boy felt instant discomfort at the knowing look on the bat's face. He coughed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, awkwardly, muttering, “What are you looking at?”

The smirk seemed to widen before she flapped over to Star, much to Marco's relief.

“This is amazing!” Star continued to scream, jumping up and down with joy, causing Marco to let out a small chuckle. “I'm sooo happy right now! If mom could see me now she would be so furious!” Her smile dropped for a moment, but quickly resumed as she continued, “But she doesn't know so it's okay, right?”

It left again as her eyes widened and she grabbed the top of her head in worry. “Oh man this would so kill her!” Marco felt sympathy fill his chest but before he could say a word the girl began to smile brightly again. “Buuuuttt she'll never know, so I'm just fine!”

The young thief raised an eyebrow at the girl's sporadic mood shift, she was definitely strange that much was certain. The girl turned once more, spotting something ahead and began to run towards it, yelling, “Ooohhh what's that?!”

Marco followed her gaze and quickly realized what it was, racing after her as he shouted in warning, “No Star, wait don't touch that!” He managed to grab her hand just before she could touch the five leaved plant in front of her. “That's poison ivy!”

Star blinked once, before pulling her hand away saying gratefully, “Wow, that was a close one. Thanks Marco.”  

Marco blushed against his will, rubbing at the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. “Uhh, it's no big deal, just try to be more careful next time,” he said nervously.

Star nodded. “Okay I will,” she said cheerfully. She turned away from him, letting out a soft gasp as she spotted a bee hive ahead. Curiosity overcame her, as she instantly forgot her promise and shouted, “What's that?!” She ran toward it without a second thought and Marco watched her go tiredly, a worried frown on his face. He let out a long sigh, even as her screams reached his ears. “Ahhh, Marco help! I broke it and now the bugs are all angry at me!”

“It's gonna be a long day,” Marco muttered dejectedly.