#drawing done in a hurry between work and anxieties and few hours of sleep

[psychedeliclulu]

Happy B-Day Adachi 🎂🥬💖✨!!

I'm late but I wanted to prepare something a little more complex for the special occasion (⁠ ⁠/⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠)⁠/⁠♪⁠♪

I chose 💐 based on hanakotoba (I compared multiple sources...I hope they are correct 😭):

💛 Yu/Sunflower (radiance, respect, recovery and hope)

🩷 Nanako/Pink Rose (trust, happiness, confidence towards someone)

💙 Dojima/Morning Glory (meaningful promises, gift between lovers)

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 2]

(Zzzzzzz…..)

(Alright, second part done :V Not much to say here for now, but I hope you’re excited for the upcoming part to come out next ^^ And my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop in and chat any time! I’ll be seeing you :D)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and for a part two, outside home life? You’ll see what I mean lol 

Characters: Quackity, George, Badboyhalo.

Warnings: Nightmares in Quackity’s part, but besides that we’re clean <3

Song Recommendation: Metamodernity- Vansire

Up Next- Sapnap, Philza, Fundy, Schlatt. 

Enjoy your day guys! I do hope it be rockin :]

Quackity:

Quackity is one floppy motherfucker. You fall asleep with him spooning you, head nestled between your shoulder blades, hands holding yours in front of your middle, legs entangled, the whole shi-bang, but wake up with him starfishing half on the mattress at a weird angle that makes his neck sore for the rest of the day.

Each day is a new position for you to add to your ammunition of teasing against him, but he takes it in stride. He totally doesn’t wake you up halfway through the night by flinging himself over your middle, ‘asleep’ and snoring like a freight train. When you give up halfway through trying to stop him breathing and just fall asleep lying on his chest, he turns to mush and gets distracted playing with your hair. You don’t know why he seems so exhausted the next morning, and he only giggles dreamily at you when you ask.

While he’ll be the big spoon for as long as you want him to, there’s a special soft place in his heart for being the little spoon. Hold him, please. Pull him to your chest and gently run your fingers through his hair, rub his back and kiss every inch of his face until he’s down for the count. The easiest way to make him feel better after a bad day or an argument is to let him know you want him and love him. Just holding him at night guarantees that he’ll bring you a present the next day (like the inner stardew valley house husband he sometimes longs to be lmao).

It’s a 50/50 chance of waking up with Quackity or after him, seeing as he prefers to get up early to enjoy the quiet mornings before the rest of the smp wakes up. He gets ready, makes the both of you coffee (or tea, something to help wake you up), and watches the sky change color while he waits for you to come sit with him in the kitchen. The two of you try your best to assure a moment together before you go about your separate ways, sitting together and talking about what you have planned or what you might have for dinner later. It’s his favorite part of the day, aside from coming back home to your awaiting arms.

Another citrus-y smelling fellow. More orange than lemon, he bathes in the morning after he wakes up. You typically wake up right after he gets finished washing up, walking into the bathroom to hear him quietly humming while drying off his hair and wings. He’ll give you a small guilty grin and a good smooch on your forehead as an apology.

Another poor fellow with nightmares;; They’re a lot less frequent than they used to be now that you’ve gotten together (having someone to talk to and work through each others issues does WONDERS apparently) but when they hit, they hit him hard. You wake up from him twisting and turning right before he wakes up in tears. He doesn’t like to be touched afterwards, drawn in on himself and facing away from you, hiding his crying. When you leave to get him a glass of water and come back, he’s more grounded, crawling into your arms and accepting the drink gratefully. With his forehead pressed to your throat, taking small sips from his cup, he’ll tell you what his dream was about. Sometimes it’s Technoblade, sometimes Dream, mostly Schlatt though. His ex lingers on his mind more than he likes to admit, a deep sense of abandonment showing through his nightmares. Quackity struggles with sleeping for a few days after, afraid of what he might see when he closes his eyes again.

(You’ve fallen back asleep by now, hand paused in its ministrations and resting snugly in his hair. Things are warm and quiet and soft, and he feels safe again. 

The nightmare still hovers fuzzily in the back of his mind, but for now he can ignore it, focusing on your slow breathing as it lulls him back to sleep. 

His last thought before finally letting himself rest is how much he loves you, giving you one last squeeze in his tight embrace before relaxing into a much more stable slumber. ‘Gracias por todo mi amor.’)

George:

Impeccable skill of just falling asleep wherever and whenever. Before the two of you got close and started sharing a bed together, he really left his sleep schedule up to fate. He’d find a comfy spot and crash there for a few hours till he was awoken and would just repeat that a few hours later. Now that he has you, he makes more of an effort to stay awake during the day so he can sleep through the night next to your side. It more or less works, but occasionally he’ll have slept during the day and he wakes up in the middle of the night. As “punishment”, he sentences himself to waiting it out instead of getting up to do something because he truly wants to keep going to bed with you.

Not big on contact, likes having his space when he’s sleeping. Cuddling is nice every once in a while, but he prefers being able to breathe a little bit when falling asleep. He does, however, actively make the choice to hold your hand while he slips into slumberville. His grip isn’t too strong, nor is it very light, but a gentle mix between the two to try and remind you how much he loves you. You’ll wake up before him and his hand will still be holding yours, pulled to his chin as he sleeps. His breath fans your knuckles slowly, face eased of any stress, absolutely content.

George bathes…… probably. I’m just kidding, he fluctuates between bathing at night or in the morning because he just goes through phases of forgetting to when the time comes. His little mushroom home doesn’t come with a bathroom, seeing as its wholly empty (please if anyone has housing information on George or like. Any character at all please inform me please i beg-), so he’s limited to getting clean at a friend’s or your house. Typically yours. He keeps all of his valuables at your place once you start letting him sleep over there, tucking his clothes into your closet or in your dresser when he thinks you aren’t looking, leaving a toothbrush and his soap in your bathroom, hanging his armor up on an empty armor stand you have tucked away, all due to his inability to straight out ask if he can live with you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to live with you, he practically does anyways, but there’s something in him that worries that you won’t like him if you’re forced to live with him permanently. He knows it can become… a bit much when you have to be around someone 24/7, but doesn’t realize that you pretty much already are around each other 24/7 lmao.

It takes a while but eventually he settles down and over dinner suggest that maybe you two should take it to the next level. His face is flushed pink and he keeps switching which leg he has crossed, but he takes your hand and quietly asks if he could start living with you. It’s a surprisingly sweet moment, even with your confusion (thinking you already DID live together), and of course you say yes.

He looks so relieved when you accept, and is kinda like, “I know this will be a difficult process but I’m very excited to become closer with you.” and then nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(It’s on the walk home when George finally processes that he now lives with you. It feels heavy on his heart, a mix of nervousness and excitement that makes him swallow hard and tighten his fingers around yours. 

This isn’t the first time he’s spent the night at your place, nor is it the first time he’s crawled into bed with you and slept next to just because you let him, but it is his first night actually living with you. The moment feels brand new, as if it’s his first time visiting your house all over again. 

He begins to wonder if maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s moved too fast and maybe your regretting letting him live with you already and- He takes a hurried look at your face. You look… unbothered. Happy, even. 

There’s this half hidden smile on your face that soothes his anxieties, drawing out his own fragile smile. He can’t wait to live with you.)

Bad:

Mmmmm, big man warm. A natural heat machine, no need for lots of blankets or heavier pajamas, Bad will take care of all your cold problems. Every night after you finish your shared nightly routine, you curl up in his arms, immediately becoming over come with his toasty embrace. It like when you get clothes out of the drier and just hug them to your chest, the warm, clean, smell good experience that Bad also delivers.

He’s got a pretty ingrained nightly schedule that he sticks to, and he always invites you to join him after you finish up dinner. It starts by cleaning up the house a little, washing the dishes, setting aside clothes for the next day, taking a quick bath, brushing his teeth, reading a few chapters from a new book he’s picked up, and then settling down to go to bed. He won’t push you to do it with him, but he does try to incorporate you into his routine when he can. Usually it’s just by doing something small, like reading together or massaging your shoulders, but sometimes he’ll ask you to join him when he bathes.

Bad bathes pretty often, always at night, and using a nice smelling soap that he makes himself. Like what was said above, he’ll sometimes ask you to join him when bathing. It’s not ever for any naughty means, but because he sees bathing as a very intimate and vulnerable activity for you to share. He won’t push it, understanding that it can be overwhelming to be so open, but if you do choose to join him, he’s so gentle with you. His hands are worked and calloused, but they’re soft when they run soap through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and running down the back of your neck. He practically purrs when you return the favor, giggling as your hands brush sensitive spots around his sides. Afterwards he becomes so cuddly and attached to your side, you fall asleep with him curled up on YOUR chest, trapped under him.

That being said, most nights he takes to being the big spoon. It’s more for convenience sake, seeing as he’s a good few feet taller than you are, but he also can appreciate being held and loved on after harsher days. He’s a lot like a weighted blanket, a nice heavy weight that keeps you warm and makes you feel loved <3 love this guy.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), you sometimes have.... Visitors. Bad is a hub for the homeless, bored, and nutty members of the smp. They flock to him like birds to the elderly, which means you have “children” to take care of for a day or two at a time :/. Dream and George aren’t regulars, per say, but Bad has a room set aside for either of them when they come over. To their credit, they do try to be polite when they come over, and will help in cooking dinner or cleaning up. Skeppy, however, is unlike Dream or George, in that he’s more of a third partner in your and Bad’s relationship.

Skeppy up and appears at random, no announcement, and makes himself comfortable any place where Bad is. Be it at your home or his, Skeppy eats your food, lounges on your furniture, hell, he even sleeps with you and Bad at night. You two share Bad’s chest whenever Skeppy is over. It’s so jarring at first, having to deal with having another boyfriend (because Skeppy will consider you to be apart of the thrupple after introductions), but he usually only stays for like 3 days before leaving to do whatever else he has planned. You don’t know if you should be worried or upset or what, but after a while it becomes kinda nice to have him around.

All in all Bad is great to sleep with <3

(Bad blows the lantern out on his bedside counter, shuffling under the cover beside you once the room was fully dark. You slung an arm over his chest instinctively, cuddling up into his side when his arm pulled up around your back and held you even closer. 

You shivered pleasantly when he gently pressed a kiss into your hair, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each rise and fall of his wide chest. He sighs quietly and squeezes you, murmuring softly to you as you both fell asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”)

Have a good evening! Do something nice for yourself tonight. You deserve it.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Nemesis - Part 5

I wasn’t going to write this the same day as Villainsicle, but I just got so excited with the cliffhanger from last time!

At long last, it’s time for Hero to make their move.

In accordance with the votes from last time, Hero is going to keep up the ruse, and keep pretending to be Director.

CW//Mentions of recreational drugs/marijuana, forced sedation, medical setting, stretchers, IVs, talk of death/execution

When Hero met the team they had been newly assigned to, it had only been Teammate who had smiled.

It had been a few days, now, since that somewhat awkward meeting. The same sentiment had continued, however. While the rest of the team seemed merely to tolerate their new member, Teammate had been warm, welcoming.

So, it only seemed to reason that when Hero finally moved into their new dorm, it was Teammate who was giving them the mini tour.

“It’s not much.” The door creaked as it swung open on its hinges. Hero struggled to see the room within, peering their head over the precarious stack of boxes held in their hands. “But, it’s yours. Um, feel free to put your stuff down.”

Hero nodded gratefully, placing their luggage on the bed as Teammate began to gesture about.

“That’s, uh, well that’s obviously the bed. You sleep on a bed, right? Or do you use some kind of like, dog bed? Sorry, that was stupid.”

Hero snickered.

“No, no, you’re fine. I do sleep on a human bed.”

“That’s good, cause it’s the only kind we’ve got. So, yeah. That’s the bed. That’s the bathroom, through the door. That’s the dresser, feel free to use that for, clothes and stuff.”

“What about that door?”

“Oh.”

Teammate moved over to said door, sliding it open, revealing an empty closet that stood several feet deep.

“We’ve all got these. It’s just a closet.” They smiled. “I don’t know why they’re so big like that, but, hell, you could have someone live in there, I bet. It’s big enough, no one would ever notice.”

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“Friend. I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gritted their teeth, gaze meeting that of Head Doctor. A warm smile replied to with a tense, nerve-wracked countenance.

For the briefest moment, Hero stood in a university building, hostages behind them, and a faceless nemesis before them.

Their tongue flitted over their teeth. They didn’t bother with an accent, there was no way they would have been able to keep it up. Their normal, stupid voice would have to do.

“I missed you, too. I apologize for dropping by so suddenly. Everything is just great, thank you.”

Head Doctor’s brow furrowed, their jaw twisting a moment as they gnawed on the inside of their cheek.

“Friend, your voice sounds different. Are you alright?”

“Yes, do not worry yourself. My allergies are acting up terribly today.”

“Are you certain that it is only allergies? You sound like a kid, again. Here, if you have a moment, perhaps we can go to my office. I’m not too busy, right now.”

“No, no, that won’t be needed.”

“I insist.”

Hero gulped, hoping only that it was not visible. In their ear, a nerve-wracked Hacker’s voice chirped:

“Y- you’re, uh, you’re the director, right? Just, like, order him to shut up!”

Opening their mouth, Hero sputtered, but managed to make out the words:

“If I was worried about my voice, I would tell you.” Their nerves turned rapidly to fury. “I didn’t come here to be berated. I have a- a meeting in an hour. I came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to chat.”

Hacker’s snickering only made Hero’s stomach twist into a tighter knot.

“O-Oh. I apologize, Director. We will just have to be friends off the clock, then.”

“Certainly.”

“What is it that I can help you with, then?”

Every piece of Hero’s body insisted for them to flee, to quickly make their excuses, duck out the door, and get out of this stupid suit. They could go home, go to their dorm, go smoke pot with Teammate. Everything would be okay, and they would never have to think about this place, or Villain, or Hacker, or any of it, ever again!

It would be so easy. They were risking everything, throwing it all away, and for no reason.

Leaving would be so simple, and yet...

If they left Villain here, they knew they would never sleep again. For the briefest moment, they were glad that they had never had much in the way of impulse control.

“My charge.” Hero turned, gesturing to where a twitching Villain sat, prostrate upon their hospital bed. “This is them, yes?”

“Villain? Yes.”

“Good. I will be taking them with me, then.”

Head Doctor’s expression of uncertainty turned to one of an agape jaw.

“I don’t- If you would like them to be moved to another facility, we can certainly arrange that, but-”

“That’s not what I said, is it? I have a car, here. I will be taking them with me.”

“Sir, are you absolutely certain? By your own order, they are on a very strict regime of medications. Removing them from the IV- It could be disastrous.”

Hero felt their stomach drop to their feet. Stupid! They hadn’t even thought about that, oh god, oh god. This stupid plan, it was going to kill Villain, wasn’t it? Maybe? Hell, they weren’t a doctor.

Even if it did kill them, though...

Did it really matter? As if they were really alive, right now.

“I am well aware of that!” The tone of their own voice nearly made Hero jump. “I have another facility set up, again, on my orders. They will be taking over care, from now on.”

“We have a transport vehicle for this very situation, Sir.”

“Not for this very situation, no. This is not a normal transfer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s a highly classified matter. There is no driver in our employ that I can trust to manage this transfer, and thus I will handle it myself.”

“Oh.” Head Doctor frowned, as though a black-hued light bulb had turned on above their crown. “Sir if... If you want them disposed of, I agree that this may not be the best facility to arrange that, but we do have facilities that can perform that procedure.”

Hero bit their tongue with enough force to draw blood.

“I will arrange it myself, Head Doctor. I assure you, everything has already been worked out. Are you going to keep standing in my way, or do I need to bring in security?”

Head Doctor shook their head quickly.

“That won’t be necessary. What do you need?”

“Their IVs removed.” Even before Hero finished their phrase, the doctor was already at their patient’s bedside, withdrawing tubes from veins. Villain took in a sharp, shuddering breath. “And a transport stretcher prepared.”

“I assume you would like them to be restrained, too?”

“How long should the medications keep them down for?”

“Another twelve hours, maybe.”

“That will be more than enough. Don’t hassle yourself.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Hero’s legs moved like those of a newborn deer as they backed away towards a wall, leaving room for the orderlies and nurses to scurry about like an ant colony.

Some part of their mind, twisted by adrenaline and anxiety, could not help but remind them of the moment in their childhood when they had adopted a dog. The hurried, overworked vets, scurrying about the animal, checking vitals and microchips.

The dog had had no say in the matter. And, in this matter, Villain had no say, either.

The medical staff seemed not to feel any such sympathy, hands moving swiftly to shift about their paralyzed charge. Cursory checks were made of blood pressure and breathing and the like, though far more attention seemed to be directed upon the removal of various tubes and monitors. Following their detachment from the hospital bed, Villain was shifted by a dozen hands onto a thin blue cushion, laid atop a rolling contraption of wheels.

Hero hoped that the straps that tightened the unconscious person down were only strictly necessary.

Despite their anxiety telling them otherwise, the whole process only lasted a minute two, after which the remaining medical staff filed from the chamber, leaving only Head Doctor in their cyan scrubs.

“Thank you, friend.” Hero ducked their head, moving away from their place in the corner. “They are ready, then?”

“Yes, Sir. Do you need help getting them to your vehicle?”

“That would be great, yes.”

The two positioned themselves on either side of the rolling contraption, with Hero doing their very best to keep their eyes forward rather than down as they began to direct the stretcher through narrow hallways.

It was too light. It should have been heavier, they were certain.

The facility was terribly small, and it was only a minute later that the imitator and the medic stood, alone, in the parking lot, white picket fence far behind them.

Head Doctor glanced a moment at Hero’s beat up SUV, but their nerves kept them from commenting on the matter. Leaving the stretcher a moment, Hero moved to the back of the vehicle, prying open its rear hatch and flattening the seats.

“I assume this is an undercover operation, then?” The way Head Doctor said it implied the statement to be a joke.

“Something like that. How do we, um... I haven’t done this before.”

“It’s not that hard. Especially not when your patient may as well be a feather-- keep that in mind for your dosages, too. They’ve lost weight. Anyways, um, just fold the stretcher like so, and... Can you help lift?”

Hero nodded, doing their best to keep the stretcher flat as they raised it. The contraption hardly fit in the back of their vehicle, but it did fit, even as it was practically wedged between the walls. What was most important was that it sat low enough that the unconscious patient could not be seen through the windows-- at least not from a distance.

There was a sense of terrifying finality as they closed the vehicle’s rear hatch.

They were doing this.

Oh, they were going to get so caught.

What then? This had to be just about the worst offense a hero could commit. Using their powers and their position and the aid of a career criminal to break a villain out of prison. It seemed like a child’s hyperbole-- ‘What should we do if there’s a tornado and a fire and an earthquake? What then?’

Except, this time, there was no ‘what if’ to it.

It was these spiraling thoughts that distracted them just enough that they forget, momentarily, where their feet were landing. A split second of distraction, and they found themself on their back, head spinning from the fall.

Stupid.

They didn’t realize until they were back to their feet that their earpiece had fallen onto the pavement.

“Director? Are you alright?” Head Doctor raised a brow. “Oh, you dropped this.”

They knelt down, plucking the earbud off the ground, lifting it to their face to investigate.

And, in accordance with Hero’s fantastic luck, it was that exact moment in which Hacker decided to speak:

“Hero? Hero? Are you there? You cut out there for a moment. Head Doctor didn’t get you, did they?”

The doctor’s icy gaze lifted to meet that of the copycat.

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It was hard, to get out of the city.

The tendrils of concrete and glass reached out in a looping spiderweb of interstates and one way roads. Moving in a straight line was not an option, for every attempt made to do so would lead to the city herding you back in.

In the end, it must have taken Hero an hour and a half to reach what could be vaguely described as a ‘rural area.’ At the very least, it was outside of the inner city, which was what mattered surtout.

At the very least, the long drive had allowed them a moment to catch their breath.

Unlike some other buildings controlled by Organization, the rehab facility did not have much in the way of a security force-- unless you counted Head Doctor, which Hero did not. Unfortunately, the same thought had not seemed to have the doctor’s train of thought.

It was amazing just how little attention Hero had attracted, screeching out of a rehab facility’s parking lot with a screaming doctor chasing after them up to the property line. They could only assume that no one wanted to get involved in hero business.

Organization, however, would certainly be interested, once they heard about the incident.

Thus, Hero had spent the past hour and a half white-knuckling the steering wheel, steering around endless intersections, until they had found the smallest piece of rural land. A gravel parking lot, from which a flock of starlings had fled at the approach of Hero’s car.

Beneath the vehicle’s suspension, tires settled on broken up rocks.

Hero glanced in the rear view mirror for the thousandth time, but saw only the same thing as always-- endless, empty road.

For the first time in an hour and a half, they let themself breathe. Their car’s engine exhaled as they turned it off and twisted around in their seat.

Villain had not moved.

The few straps on the stretcher did little more than keep them from falling off the cushion. If they had any desire, any ability, to move, they would have had no trouble.

But they were still. Alive, eyelids twitching and chest moving, but still.

Taking care to avoid jostling the stretcher, Hero climbed from the driver’s seat to the back of the vehicle, crouching down at Villain’s side.

As gently as they could manage, Hero held their nemesis’ hand.

“Can you hear me?”

It was a stupid question. Of course Villain couldn’t hear them. Yet, as soon as Hero’s mouth opened, they found themself unable to close it. Unable to still their tongue.

“I don’t... I know it’s been a long time.”

A wave of orange light washed over the two as the sun drifted below the window.

“I know it’s been a long time. And maybe this is stupid. Maybe you hate me. Maybe you want to go back there. Go back to sleep. Maybe that’s all you want. But... I want to help you.

I don’t know anything else. I just know I want to help you.

We weren’t friends, before. I know that. We both know that. And, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t know why I’m doing this. We hated each other. Maybe I still hate you, but...

We can figure that all out later, okay? Right now, I just want to help.”

It was in that position that the nemeses sat, breathing in their first tastes of non-city air in so many years. Outside of the vehicle’s walls, the sun drifted below the horizon, replaced by its lunar sister.

When the last shreds of twilight were at last dead, Hero felt at long last safe to return home. One last time, they squeezed Villain’s hand.

Villain squeezed back. The slightest movement-- perhaps a simple involuntary reaction. Perhaps it didn’t mean anything.

But, to Hero, it meant everything.

On the return trip to the city, the streets were far quieter, and thankfully devoid of any sort of Organization search patrols. In fact, their arrival at the HQ was almost too uneventful. But, they weren’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Had they not been so stupid, so reckless, they would still have help. They would still have Hacker. Their friend could have guided them through the HQ, guided them on how to avoid the security cameras.

But Hero had been stupid. They had been reckless. Now, they were alone.

At the very least, the parking lot was deserted, and they met no resistance as they unstrapped Villain from their transport. They haphazardly covered the device with a tarp, all the while struggling to keep their limp friend from falling over.

Any strength that Villain had once held in their legs had long since been stolen away from them. After a few clumsy attempts to get them to their feet, Hero resolved to a simple bridal carry.

They could only hope that Villain would not remember this. They would never hear the end of it.

Without the benefit of an eye in the sky, all Hero could do against the possibility of cameras was to lean over the load they carried, hoping it at least obscured Villain’s face.

The HQ was deserted.

At this hour, it was never deserted.

The very thought made their blood turn to frozen slush, but they had no choice but to keep moving. Keep moving to the elevator, then out of it. Keep moving to their floor, then their quarters.

At the very least, Teammate’s snoring still echoed. Not everything was out of place.

Well-placed steps led Hero to their dorm, locking the door behind themself.

They looked down.

Villain was in their room. Their dorm. They were really never going to hear the end of this, were they?

Unfortunately, hours spent panicking over their nemesis’ condition had not spontaneously made Hero a doctor. Whatever they were going through right now, helping them through it was beyond them.

They had no medicines. No treatments. But, they had a closet, and a pile of blankets within. When Villain was finally tucked into the makeshift bed, they were almost invisible beneath the layers of fabric.

Though they were not quite sure why, Hero smiled.

That odd expression remained on their face as they got to their knees, staring upon their work.

For once, they had done something right. They had succeeded at something. Take that, Leader!

Villain twitched.

For a moment, Hero thought that their nerves had simply made them hallucinate the movement. But, no, they certainly had not dreamed it, as a moment later, the small movement repeated itself.

Villain opened their eyes. They spoke as though their tongue was made of ice, but that did not make their voice any quieter.

“Please, no! Please! Please, don’t do this! Help me help me help me someone help me. Please! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it!”

The sobbing grew to such a point that it shook Hero’s chest, like the thrum of a bass, echoing through the floor.

“Please!”

Through all the chaos, Hero was surprised that they even heard the knock at the door, and the quiet voice that came with it:

“Hero? Hero, it’s Teammate. Is everything okay in there?”

“I didn’t mean to see it! I won’t tell Hero, I promise! I promise!”

All at once, Hero understood the saying of being caught between a rock and a hard place.

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Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero has gone this alone for too long, and Teammate is their friend. Let Teammate in. - How should Hero quiet Villain?

B.) Teammate is a risk, and Hero has already taken enough of those. Don’t let them in - How should Hero explain this?

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night—

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.  

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading! 

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande 

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[missing-marvel]

The Shape of You (Pt. 6)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 5, Part 7

Words: 3686

A/N: Life was beating me down for awhile there but dammit! It’s summer break now and I want to write! This bitch is back in the game yall! *aggressively does finger guns*

-

From the second you got outside, it felt like danger was hiding around every corner. You didn’t know if the “officer” or any of his pals would be sniffing around. The building was probably being monitored, but it was a safe house. SHIELD had had enough foresight to build a secret exit that connected it to the adjacent building and came out a bit down the street from there into an alleyway. It felt like something straight out of a spy movie, but you were too on edge to appreciate the novelty. You were whipping your head around at every little sound, bound to give yourself whiplash at this rate.

The two of you pushed forward as silently as you could. A bit of snow still stuck to the ground in places where the sun didn’t reach, crunching loudly underfoot if you walked on it. It’s funny, on any other occasion you would’ve found the noise satisfying but now it made you jump as if hearing a gunshot. You knew you were being overly nervous but you just couldn’t help it. To be completely honest, a part of you was scared out of your damn mind. This whole situation terrified you. It had since day one. Perhaps it was stupidity that drove you forward in the first place, a nagging thought that tugged at the back of your mind in moments of doubt. After all, who would be dumb enough to steal one of the government’s most secret projects without so much as a plan? But you knew it wasn’t that simple. And you weren’t stupid, regardless of what your anxieties tried to tell you at times. That didn’t make you any less afraid, however. At least when you’d first escaped with Vision, the adrenaline had been enough to distract from what was honestly a far more terrifying experience. Now your thoughts were loud and clear in your head, running rampant with paranoia.

Vision was afraid as well, in his own way. He didn’t show it really, not like you did. He moved forward as if ready for a fight, a power in his steps he’d been lacking before. You both had to move fairly slow so as not to draw attention, but you were still noticeably in a hurry. Your goal was to find a new car, something inconspicuous that would hopefully make it at least most of the way to your destination. That was easier said than done. There weren’t that many cars in this neighborhood, not that looked like they could get very far anyway.

The sun was getting low, the shade between buildings darkening with every passing minute. On one hand, the cover of darkness would work to your advantage. On the other, the temperature was dropping fast. You’d thrown on a coat of sorts but if you were out here too long, your hands would be too cold to drive. The bag slung over your shoulder had a blanket in it you were pretty sure, but that was more for if you had to sleep in a car in freezing temperatures. The two of you had managed to quickly pack a couple of bags with necessities last night but you weren’t putting much thought into what you brought. You were more focused on getting out of this town as fast as physically possible. It had been a fitful few hours rest before you had to leave.

“We can’t keep looking forever,” you muttered, trying to suppress your shivering. Dammit, why did it just now have to start getting cold? Why couldn’t winter have waited like another week? Hopefully it was early enough in the season that the weather would warm up a little as you headed west. You really, really hoped.

Vision redoubled his efforts as he noticed your teeth chattering. He moved a bit faster now, hoping the darkening skies would make up for it. The two of you stuck to alleyways and side streets, checking over every dilapidated parking lot in the hopes that there was something usable. How was so much of this place empty? Did just no one live here? Did they all walk? You were starting to get how the safe house had managed to sit undisturbed all these years.

Vision suddenly took notice of a car tucked away in the corner of the lot. A thin blanket of snow covering the windows further camouflaged the already-white vehicle. It had to have sat here for a few days at least. Hopefully that meant whoever owned it wouldn’t notice it’s absence for awhile. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it wasn’t falling apart. And at this point, there wasn’t time to be picky. He gestured hurriedly at the car and the two of you practically sprinted across the lot, taking a moment to look around for passersby before touching the car. When it seemed the coast was clear, you quickly swiped the snow off the windows and let Vision work his magic, just like before.

You braced yourself for the possibility of a car alarm as Vision phased his hand through the glass enough pop the lock, letting out a sigh of relief when the door opened without trouble. You clambered into the low car, the seat position definitely in need of adjustment. Vision started the ignition as you tossed your bag in the backseat, noticing what looked like some kind of heavy clothing sitting on the floor behind the seat. With any luck, it was another blanket or something warm, but there wasn’t time to check now.

The car sputtered and coughed, reluctant to wake from its cold slumber. But finally it relented, the engine gurgling somewhat in a way that made you nervous but it otherwise showed no signs of failing. The headlights were dim and yellow, barely breaching the cloudy air as exhaust curled around the car, forming a heavy cloud. It smelled vaguely burnt, like the inner mechanisms of the vehicle had all been overworked long ago. But you were here now, and at least the car was running. It took all your self control not to go speeding out of the lot, tires squealing and all but that would draw too much attention, so you did your best to drive inconspicuously.

You spent as much time looking at your mirrors as you did the road in front of you. Any minute you expected a swarm of SWAT cars or something to come screaming around the corner. This little car had a snowball’s chance in hell of outrunning anyone, so you had to rely on not being noticed. As you got out towards the highway again, you did notice more cars out and about thankfully. It was actually about the time people were usually heading to work for the day, so there were more than enough to let you blend in.

The air was tense and quiet up until now, neither of you doing or saying much. But the tension was slowly easing, shrinking with the town in your mirror. Perhaps it was the distance bringing you some relief or perhaps it was just your predisposition for the open road. Either way, the little bit of adrenaline you had was wearing off and with that came the cold. You reached to turn the heater up, but it was tepid at best. Still, it beat freezing to death. Although you were seriously regretting your lack of gloves.

“I could really use a distraction,” you mumbled as you reached for the stereo. You scanned through at least a dozen stations, almost none of them actually getting a signal. Those that did were almost worse than the static. You were assaulted by the faux-enthusiasm of advertisers and the dull droning of talk show hosts that had probably been running the same shows for 40 years. Your grunts of frustration got harsher with every passing station until you were barely watching the road. It wasn’t until the car was shaking loudly that you snapped back to attention, the rumble strips on the side of the road warning you that you were drifting. You quickly righted the vehicle, going silent as you noticed movement from Vision out of the corner of your eye. He didn’t say (or write) anything, however, so you didn’t comment either.

With the radio off, the silence was numbing. All you had was the general hum of the vehicle as you drove, which your brain quickly tuned out. At this rate, you’d fall asleep at the wheel. After your last bout of driving, Vision was accustomed to all of this so he took it upon himself to be something of a distraction for you. Not from the road, of course, but enough to keep you awake.

“What are you thinking about?” He wrote, giving you room to steer the conversation yourself. He avoided sign language for now, figuring it was safer to write since he could hold the paper in your line of sight so you never had to look completely away from the road.

You took in a deep breath and sighed, the way one does right before going on a long tangent. Yet words escaped you. Your lips parted to speak but all you could manage was a soft shake of your head. You didn’t know what to think right about now. Or perhaps you were thinking too much. Yeah, that seemed about right. It was all just too much.

“I don’t know,” you finally admitted. “I just don’t know. How— how did I get here, Vision?” You laughed sharply, not humored in the slightest. It was a laugh of absurdity. A ‘ how the hell did my life reach this point!?’ type of laugh. It wasn’t the most convenient time for this conversation, but the metaphorical can was open now. You couldn’t stop yourself as you began to ramble, your thoughts practically racing to the surface of your mind.

“I’m a janitor. I was a janitor. This kind of shit doesn’t happen to janitors. This is— this is superhero stuff. I... I don’t know what I’m doing.” You trailed off, eyes fixed ahead but not really on the road. You stared into space as if it held answers, as if you only needed watch hard enough and they would materialize before you.

Vision felt a sort of pang in his software, similar to the times before, like when the two of you were dancing. But this time it, well, it hurt for lack of a better word. Now, this isn’t to say Vision is a stranger to these emotions by any means. He wasn’t born yesterday. But this— this was different. What he struggled with was you— the fact that you seemed to incite these unusual feelings in him. For an android, Vision was a very empathetic person but never more so than with you. He was acutely aware of your state of being at all times it seemed. When you were afraid, he wanted to fix it. When you smiled, he would find himself doing the same. This— now this was new territory for him.

The way you spoke now, the looming hysteria behind your voice, well it rung with the tone of regret. You hadn’t said it directly— ‘I wish I’d never broke you out’— but Vision could hear it. At least, he thought he could. He wasn’t sure. But it brought a lingering guilt either way. He’d roped you into this, hadn’t he? He’d taken advantage of your kindness and offered nothing in return. He had nothing to offer, nothing he thought you’d want.

In the silence that followed your little outburst, your thoughts had run rampant. The future was looming overhead, daunting and unknown. Voicing your thoughts aloud brought at least some relief to the dread that was quickly forming deep in your chest. “You know, I keep thinking ahead and every time it’s just like—“ you hesitated and smacked a fist lightly against the dashboard, unable to define your thought in more than a vague gesture. When the right words continued to evade you, you simply moved on to the next thought, however fractured it may be. “I don’t know— I don’t know. I mean, I can’t just go back to a normal life, right? Not that I had a plan, exactly. For my life, I mean. I was just kind of... existing. I know, I know, this is going to sound sad. It’s just that, well, I never knew what I wanted to do with my life. Custodian wasn’t exactly my first choice for a career. But there I was, in a dead-end job with a degree I’ll never use, no idea what to do with myself. And now there’s not really much I can do.” You hadn’t meant for things to turn so dour. You weren’t normally so pessimistic, and it certainly wasn’t fair to dump all of this on Vision.

You actually chuckled softly as a lighter thought came to mind. “You know, it might not be so bad. I could run away, maybe— I don’t know— start a farm somewhere. That’s what they always do in the movies, isn’t it? Start a farm? God, I don’t know the first thing about farming.” You had to actually laugh that time, cutting off your own train of thought. “It’s just a funny thought is all. I doubt I could just drop into a town and start over. I don’t know if there’s really anywhere safe for me to stay after all this...”

You hadn’t been trying for any kind of answer and Vision knew that. But he reflexively begins signing anyway, without thinking. ‘With me,’ he almost says, before stopping himself on the first word. You didn’t see it, at least not more than a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. No, that was a bad idea, he insists. The Avengers would help you start fresh somewhere. Wouldn’t they? Could they? Or... should you stay? You could stay— with him and the Avengers, that is. A part of him thinks he wants that. If it was up to him, anyway. But would you? Trapped in hiding with the most wanted criminals in the world, possibly for the rest of your life. No, he tells himself. You wouldn’t want that.

-

By evening you were hungry again. You debated stopping at a rest stop but it wasn’t even fully dark out yet. You didn’t want to risk people seeing Vision. So instead, you pulled off the next exit and drove until you reached a fairly desolate looking road. As luck would have it, you also happened upon a sort of gravel area off of the road, near a grove of trees. An old, nearly illegible sign tucked into the overgrowth suggested the area was once some kind of hiking trail. But there was definitely no one around now.

You hopped quickly out of the car, eager to stretch your cramped legs. Something popped in your neck as you reached your arms above your head, eliminating a dull ache that you hadn’t even realized was there. With a contented sigh, you turned and grabbed your stuff from the backseat, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to do a bit of inventory. And sure enough, the bundle you’d spotted on the floor of the car earlier was, in fact, a blanket. Perfect timing. With all your supplies in hand, you moved around to the back of the car, hopping up on the trunk and making yourself comfortable. Only then did you hear Vision’s door open. He got out of the car but didn’t move just yet, instead turning to you for assurance.

“What are you waiting for? Hop on up here.” You patted the space next to you.

“Are you sure?” He signed.

“Who’s going to see you, a raccoon? C’mon, it’s safe.” You couldn’t help but smile watching the android sheepishly climb up onto the car with you. You unfurled the heavy blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders before pausing, debating an idea. You scooted closer to Vision, draping the blanket over his shoulders as well. “There, now we’re both warm.”

Vision tensed, unable to respond as you began digging through your bag as if nothing were the matter. Not that anything was the matter, per se. He didn’t object to this in the slightest. He was just, well, surprised. That’s all. He tapped your arm to get your attention and you looked at him curiously.

“You know I don’t get cold, right?” He signed, but you just furrowed your brow in confusion. You hadn’t quite understood, so he tried again, writing it down this time. Upon reading the note, a bit of color rushed to your cheeks and you turned back towards your bag.

“I— I know! I just... wanted to be nice. That’s all. Besides, now you can keep me warm.” With that, your face felt practically on fire. You busied yourself counting how many days clothes you’d brought, not that it really mattered. Eventually you dug a snack out of the other bag, Vision remaining quiet all the while.

You’d gotten pretty far west for only a day’s drive, all things considered. It was still cold but not snowy like it had been the day before. It very well might be by tomorrow, who knows. It’s not like you could check the weather. But for now, you were content huddling under your blanket. More than content, even. Your previous statement had been wrong, at least partially. Vision wasn’t actually warm, not like a person. He wasn’t cold by any means but he didn’t seem to radiate any heat either. Still, you definitely felt a little warmer leaning toward him and pulled the blanket a bit tighter.

As you ate, you talked a bit about nothing in particular. Mostly it was just to fill the silence. It was strange, sitting outside and hearing nothing. No cars in the distance, no insects, no birds. Most of the wildlife had retreated into hiding and hibernation for the season. As the stars began to poke through the sky, you’d occasionally hear an owl’s call. It sounded lonely against the otherwise silent backdrop. You leaned further into Vision. You’d just missed the sunset but that was okay. It would’ve been behind the trees anyway. The stars out here more than made up for it.

For now at least, you could let yourself relax. You could pretend things were okay, like you weren’t running for your lives. If you really thought about it, you could almost convince yourself you were in a movie. One of those movies about people on the road, learning about themselves and getting into just enough trouble to keep the plot interesting. You wondered if Hollywood was responsible for the deep-seated feeling that seemed to be present in so many people. That want rooted inside of you to just pack up and leave, to hop on the highway and just keep going. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, you’d convince yourself that that was all this was. No one chasing you down, no danger. Just for tonight, all was well. Just for tonight, you could pretend.

“I think we should stay here for the night. Haven’t seen a single car go by. Is that okay?” You sat up to look at Vision, almost forgetting what a stunning sight he was in the dark. His electric blue irises glowed against his silhouette, almost all other details lost in the dark of twilight. He simply nodded, knowing it was too dark to write you a note. His sight wasn’t impaired thankfully, and he took advantage of that. He wasn’t aware of it, but his gaze had fallen on you for longer than usual. How could it not when you were looking at him like that? Awestruck, watching him like he was something exceptional, something beautiful . Not with morbid curiosity or greed, like those scientists had. Like Ultron had.

You almost didn’t register his response, quickly snapping back to your senses. You hadn’t meant to stare. Oh, you really hoped that wasn’t rude. What would he think? Eager to move on, you quickly hopped to your feet, Vision following suit. You climbed into the backseat of the car where you could stretch out, piling an extra coat on top of you for a little extra warmth. Your head laid on the driver’s side, giving you a view of Vision has he returned to his place in the passenger seat. “Don’t let me sleep too long, okay? You’ll wake me up early?”

He nodded again as he settled into the seat, leaning it back slightly. He wouldn’t sleep exactly, but he would rest. He would close his eyes and in the morning, he would wake you. He found himself glancing in the rear-view mirror as you shuffled in the backseat, trying to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

It took you quite awhile to fall asleep, despite your best efforts. And when you did, it was fitful. At one point in the night, Vision debated waking you up from the nightmare you were clearly having. You tossed and turned, arms confined in your makeshift blanket cocoon. He thought he heard you mumbling under your breath, but even he couldn’t discern the words. Your brow would furrow in a pained manner and he wanted nothing more than to help you. But it had been hard enough for you to fall asleep in the first place and you needed the rest, even if it wasfitful. Soon enough you seemed to settle, at least mostly.

And when the skies began to lighten, the spiky silhouettes of the trees appearing against pale greys and blues, he continued to let you sleep. He knew you’d probably want to be woken up by now but he just couldn’t bring himself to. You looked so peaceful finally, not like the rest of the night. You deserved at least a little bit of quality sleep. There was enough time to spare. Four days was enough. It had to be enough.

—

A/N: Yeah so sorry if the formatting is different, I’m stuck without wifi for the summer so I have to post from my phone. Also don’t forget to let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @bubblegum-bee-otch @okkulta @letthefiredance @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @peach-minty @acidityvibesbutfemale @songbirdcannabe @yagurlrosie @marvelsbanner @larrryyyisinloveee @beetlebway @shortbud01 @fl0ating @sunnysidesidra

[thesoloists]

Unsweet Dreams

Summary: Bucky may be free of Hydra’s influence, but he’s not free of that of the Winter Soldier. He’s slowly coming to terms with that.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma and anxiety, brief graphic depictions of murder (assault & strangulation), chronic nightmares, fluff via post-nightmare comfort (if it’s any consolation, I tried to keep it balanced)

A/n: AHH, I’m so nervous! It’s been awhile since this corner of the interweb has seen my writing (I made a new tumblr and everything), so if whoever reads this could just, y’know, drop me an ask telling me what you think about this fic, I would really appreciate it. Also, I promise not all my fics will be this dark. I just needed the bit of catharsis at the end. :’)

Bucky used to live in constant fear. It was like a malignant tumor, slowly killing him and robbing him of the ability to live every damn day of his life.

To be in a crowd was like sticking him in a coffin full of nails. As he struggled to stay out of the swirl of hurried people, his anxiety would skyrocket to the point of short-circuiting his mental system. His whole body becomes stiff, his responses shortened and robotic, as he becomes helplessly overwhelmed by the blaring warning signs going off in his head. Until his brain, finding no other option, shut down enough to function on autopilot. Only when he was away from everyone, when his mind was sure they were a safe distance from the danger of the Winter Soldier, would he come back to himself. But, to be honest, was there ever a safe enough distance from such a mindless beast?

The idea of becoming him again was so crippling that before Shuri offered to fix him, Bucky would spend days at a time locked in his room and weeks without leaving the compound. Shuri said he would never be that man again, the crudely molded vague interpretation of one, anyway—not after whatever indescribable thing she had done to him with Wakandan technology that Bucky still finds respectfully confusing. Bucky wanted so badly to believe her, but why, even now, if she is as certain as she was then that the gangrenous part of him is gone, why does he still see him in his dreams at night? Sometimes standing before him like a ghost, void of his humanity, empty of soul, filled only with commands of murder and mission and the pain endured in every attempt to scrape away the bloodshed. 

There’s no place in Bucky’s mind he can hide where the monstrous Winter Soldier cannot find him. In pleasant dreams of sandy beaches with the smell of salt on the open air, the beast will tear open a gaping black rift right behind him, grab Bucky by the back of his collar, and drag him into the void as his screams fall on apathetic ears. Where he ends up is a place where his cries are heard by no one, Where color cannot penetrate the bitter black, and where shapes and barriers do not exist. He can run forever and never hit a wall, and all the while, the Winter Soldier will stalk toward him. Inevitable, just as Bucky is with his surrender.

Agony awaits him, but he knows it will end. It has to end. And when it does, he will wake.

Bucky has long given up trying to escape on his own. Every attempt has proved futile, and it only draws out the agony. He prefers his death to be as quick as ripping a band aid. So, he goes nowhere, just stands in the very place the Winter Soldier dropped him, and waits.

The Winter Soldier stands maybe twenty feet away. His eyes are shrouded in smears of dark black, but his eyes are a stark contrast of light blue shards of cryogenic ice.

Knowing the end will be the same as every other end before it brings Bucky no semblance of comfort. He is helpless to it. No more than a prisoner to his own imagined fate.

After a while of the Winter Soldier reducing the encounter to nothing more than a one-sided staring contest, Bucky hangs his head, shaking it at the absurdity of being made to wait. “Just get it over with,” he mutters.

The shape of the Winter Soldier flickers and disappears, manifesting with daunting intensity right in front of him. Bucky finds nothing but the hoard of his own past screams in the Soldier’s empty gaze. 

In a blink, the Winter Soldier moves. The plates on the Soldier’s metallic machine arm whir and shift as his cold metal hand latches around Bucky’s throat in an unyielding vise, squeezing tighter and tighter, killing the human, killing Bucky. 

Then it is over. In that particular dream, after Bucky dies, Bucky wakes.

Most of the time, however, it is Bucky looking through the lens of the Winter Soldier as a captive, unable to control his movements. It is Bucky’s traitorous metal arm around the throat of someone he cares about, tightening around their choked gasps and rasped pleas...

[Bucky has no desire to live out the Winter Soldier’s greatest hits on all of his friends, so he asks that the burden be left to another’s imagination. If it is any consolation, he is very sorry.]

He’s killed them all more times than he can count. Steve always knows when he’s had one of the dreams the next morning and who it was about because Bucky is incapable of looking that person in the eye. The image of his hand wrapped around their throat is still too fresh a wound in his mind. He’s nothing more than a shell on those mornings. His eyes are gaunt, his attention impossible to keep, and he’s left haunted for most if not all the remaining hours of the day. It’s an inevitability.

It wasn’t until he met you that Bucky allowed himself to believe Shuri’s words of comfort weren’t just empty words meant to reassure him. It’s taken months for him to get to this point, but you have been nothing but patient, never forcing him into anything, never questioning the slow speed at which your relationship progressed. You only take what he gives and in return give what he needs. He still has nightmares, though they occur far less often with you sleeping beside him. In fact, before tonight, Bucky hadn’t had one in months. To know what it felt like to be well-rested, he hadn’t felt that probably since he was digging his stupid five-foot-nothing best friend out of trouble. Before either had turned their gaze toward joining the war. 

When Bucky has either nightmare involving the Winter Soldier, it doesn't matter which, he always wakes up crying. Sometimes silently, sometimes with whimpers or explosive sobs—freshly rebuilt only to be destroyed by the horrors that play out in a hell of his mind’s own making. You sleep notoriously light, so it doesn’t take much for you to wake, and you never want him to apologize for it. His whimpers begin quietly, but they are enough. With the fast action of someone who has done this many times before, you move across the bed until your chest is flush with his back, throw your arm around him, and hold on tight as you whisper sweet assurances into the crook of his neck as his body is wrecked by sob after sob after sob. Grounding him in the existence of his humanity, in the reality of his life as it is now—good and warm and safe— until his tremoring body stills. It’s by no means a quick remedy, and perhaps the emotional exhaustion does most of the work, but with one final shudder, Bucky lets out a hard breath, his last few tears nothing more than wet stains on his pillow.  

In unspoken words of comfort, you press kisses along the jagged scaring where flesh meets metal, before resting the side of your face against his shoulder which is damp with cool sweat, and guide his ragged breathing to a slower, fuller calm with the warmth of your breaths on his back. 

In the now quiet dark of the bedroom, Bucky strokes the back of your hand, tracing lightly over every knuckle with his fingertips. 

With tender movement, you turn your hand beneath his to grasp his hand loosely between your fingers. Your gentle squeeze is simply to ask, Are you okay?

He squeezes twice. No.

He shifts his hand again and after a beat, makes a small request by tapping three times on the back of your head. Your voice breaks through the darkness as you whisper to him, “Who was it, my love?” 

It takes him a minute because he has to remember, and that involves reliving the memory of the dream, if only for a glimpse. But he wants to remember, if only for an attempted catharsis. 

“Steve,” he says hoarsely. Or Natasha, Sam, Tony, or someone else unfortunate enough to have been dropped into the role of victim—But it’s Steve who affects him the most, sometimes in aftershocks that last for days. 

Three taps means he wants to talk about it, but doesn’t want to speak first. Something about having to break the silence after having to relive that trauma just feels too daunting to him, especially now that he’s just been reminded of the monster hiding in his closet after months of silence gave him the false security of maybe being finally free. If anything, it was the sobering realization that he would never truly be free, but it’s an affliction of which he’s willing to find ways to cope. So far, his best success has been found in months of therapy and in the love he found with you. He doesn’t solely rely on you. That’s a burden, and he’s not about to expect you, an extraordinary ordinary human, to somehow be the cure for his chronic mental disturbance. But you bring him words of encouragement and a presence that puts him at ease, and if this is merely the baby-steps to learning to walk on his own, he’s willing to take it and continue practicing. No matter how much he falls, you have made it clear you will always be there to catch him if he needs it.

You wait until he’s ready for you to get up, spending several minutes brushing strands of damp hair away from his face and the rest of the uncounted time trailing your fingers up and down his arms and across his chest in an endlessly light, thoughtful caress. Only when he tells you it’s okay do you briefly disappear into the kitchen to put a kettle on the stove. It’s always been difficult for him to go back to sleep after a dream like this, but it’s easier after he talks through it, and it’s easier with tea.

He doesn’t find sleep again, but you fall asleep on the couch an hour before dawn and halfway through his fourth episode of M*A*S*H. Your whole body is curled in a tight ball on the other half of the couch as you hug an empty mug of tea close to your chest. He carefully removes it from your grasp one vise-like finger at a time (jeez, you have an insane grip for someone who’s asleep), vaguely feeling like he’s trying to disassemble a bomb, and sets it on the side table next to the couch . 

As the credits roll, Bucky carries you back to bed and is part way through tucking you beneath the covers, all warm and snug like a cute little sausage roll, when you begin to stir. Instantly, Bucky freezes. Then he remembers you always do this as if it’s part of some weird post-nightmare bedtime ritual and always manage to go right back to sleep. Comforted by the assurance, and also a little amused by the memories, he turns to close the blinds to block out the rays that would have cut unbearably bright lines against your face had he done nothing (and he’s never been much of a do nothing kind of guy), but when he turns back around, you’re rubbing your eyes with your fingertips—awake, it seems. (Aw, hell.) You blink blearily at him with a lopsided smile he finds adorable, a smile there just for him. 

Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is. 

When your mouth opens with an obscenely loud, drawn-out yawn, he's never loved you more.

After smacking your lips, still in the midst of a sleepy haze, you ask, “You okay?”

While you look at him, Bucky realizes you’re trying monumentally hard to keep your eyes from opening fully, narrowing them to the point that he wouldn’t even know you were still awake if you hadn’t said something. Bucky’s smile turns butter soft at that.

His heart swells. He’s just so appreciative of you. Your kindness. That you willingly sacrifice precious hours of sleep just to tend to the wounds of his own psychological warfare.

“Yeah. I’m good now,” Bucky assures you, and he means it. He lowers his hand to cradle your cheek, sweeping the pad of his thumb back and forth across the swell of your cheek beneath your eyelashes. At the caressing motion, your eyelids flutter, then fall completely closed in total surrender. He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “Sweet dreams, doll.”

Your response is swallowed by the pillow as you shimmy down the bed to bury your face beneath the covers, but he’s pretty sure he heard you say something endearing.

[megalony]

Fatal attraction- Part 10

Here is the latest part of my King! Ben Hardy series, thank you all for the feedback so far, I hope you all like this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​

Series taglist: @joseph-mozzerella @pippin248 @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @lilharms

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in an arranged marriage to form an alliance and they both want to make this marriage work. But when they have to get to know each other and there is a power play in their marriage, things aren’t going to be easy.

Enjoy.

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Allowing her head to sink back and become engulfed by the pillows resting behind her, (Y/n) fought to keep her eyes open and concentrate on the doctor sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. She could see the concentration on his face and the way his eyes cast up from her arm to look at her expression when she could barely flinch when the needle punctured into her arm. Her expression didn't change when she watched her blood slowly fill the needle but a shudder ran through her chest and tingled down her spine when her eyes landed on the ruffled pile of sheets on the floor beside the doctor.

(Y/n) could just about see the blotches of blood stained into the pale grey sheets and it made her think of ink being spilled onto a fresh sheet of paper.

Drawing her attention from the soiled sheets, (Y/n) looked back to the doctor who looked like he was calmly smiling with his eyes rather than his lips. He'd drawn enough blood for testing and the needle was already removed from her skin without her realising.

"Okay, my work here is done for tonight." His voice was oddly calming and he had a tranquil tone that only added to the tiredness (Y/n) was feeling. When he stood up from the bed (Y/n) moved her head from side to side to try and keep herself awake long enough to see him leave.

Casting her eyes over to her left, (Y/n) took in Ben's stance before he stood up. He had his knees bent out to the sides and his elbows resting on his thighs allowing his clasped hands to hang down like a tail between his legs. His shoulders were tense and he was stooped forward like he was committing the pattern of the carpet to memory. But when the doctor stood to his feet, so did Ben and his eyes swiftly glanced over to (Y/n) before going back to the doctor who he was approaching.

"She'll be okay?" Ben slid his hands into his back pockets, unsure what to do with himself other than let his foot rapidly tap against the carpet and allow his breathing to escalate. He watched the doctor pick up his bag and take a few steps away from the bed and closer to Ben.

"She should be fine, your Majesty. The haemorrhage wasn't too great and I've given her some morphine and something to help her sleep. She needs complete rest for at least a week or more and I'll be back tomorrow afternoon to make sure everything's okay. She and the child are fine."

Ben nodded in understanding before he let his head fall forward as a shaky but relieved sigh escaped his lips before he heard the doctor's footsteps retreating. Moving his hand from his pocket, Ben rubbed his hand over his jaw before he turned his head to look over at (Y/n). He slowly walked over to the bed and sat down where the doctor had just been, his expression looked conflicted but (Y/n) could see the turbulent relief pooling in his green orbs.

Reaching her hand out, (Y/n) curled her fingers as tightly as she could around Ben's hand but when she tried to muster the courage to speak, he gently shook his head.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart, we'll talk later." Ben spoke quietly before he leaned forward so he could kiss her temple. She didn't look like she could keep her eyes open, let alone try and strike up a conversation that they could have later when she felt better. It was late and (Y/n) needed to rest. It didn't take long for (Y/n)'s eyes to fall shut and her frame quickly went limp against the pillows when she fell asleep.

Pulling back, Ben stood to his feet and rubbed at his tired eyes but a growl rumbled past his lips when a knock at the door flooded his ears. Hadn't he already made it clear to all the servants and guards that they weren't to come to this floor for the rest of the night? Could no one here follow a simple instruction?

Turning on his heels, Ben hurried over to the door and pulled it open quickly, keeping one hand on the door handle and the other hand pressed against the wall on his left like he was a barricade not allowing anyone to enter the room. He was surprised to see that it was (Y/n)'s mother on the other side of the door but the surprise didn't reach his face which looked less than inviting or happy.

"Is (Y/n) alright, that was the doctor who just left, wasn't it? You left so suddenly and I heard a few servants whispering that she'd collapsed?" The rambling left her lips quickly and she was clearly trying to smile despite her obvious concern for her daughter.

"(Y/n)'s fine, she's just sleeping right now. She took a funny turn and felt unwell, the doctor was just a precaution that's all." Ben nodded his head with a forced smile, instantly seeing the worry disappearing from her face as she managed to smile. "Look, I'm tired myself, it's been a long day but I'm sure (Y/n) will come and find you in the morning, she really is okay."

Ben knew it wasn't the best idea to lie right now because (Y/n) may be stable but she wasn't exactly fine. But it was late and Ben didn't need (Y/n)'s mother coming by every hour to check on her or insisting she had to come in and take care of (Y/n) because neither of them would want that. Ben wasn't going to panic her and explain everything right now, he could tell her in the morning or (Y/n) could tell her if she felt better. But at this moment in time Ben just wanted to get some sleep and calm down.

With a lasting, forced smile, Ben closed the door before he took a deep breath and tipped his head back against the wall for a moment. He'd suffered too much anxiety for one night with hurrying to get (Y/n) here and then panicking from the blood she started to lose. The doctor couldn't have arrived soon enough but since then everything seemed to happen in a whirlwind and he didn't quite know if his feet were firmly back on the ground or not.

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Rolling the white sleeves up his arms to his shoulders, Ben ran his fingers through his knotted hair, knowing he needed to get a shower and get changed soon. He hadn't meant to sleep in his dress shirt and trousers but he'd been too tired to bother getting changed, he just collapsed down on the bed next to (Y/n) and let his mind switch off for a few hours.

His eyes locked with (Y/n) when she slowly pushed herself so she was leaning up against the pillows. He thought she would have slept for a few more hours since the doctor gave her something to help her sleep but she looked well rested at least. She no longer looked as pale as she had done last night and she was clearly more awake and lucid than she had been. But Ben knew (Y/n) still looked far from better.

"Are you feeling okay?" Ben managed a smile as he crossed his legs beneath him on the bed, resting his arms over his legs.

"Better." (Y/n) nodded, there wasn't such a storm behind her eyes anymore and she didn't have any pains or cramps in her stomach either which was a big relief. Moving her hand, (Y/n) slowly rubbed her palm over her stomach but her hand started to tremble.

She didn't know how she would have coped or what she would have done last night if Ben hadn't been there. Feeling those emotions and that fear for a second time on her own would have broken her for sure, even if she hadn't lost the baby after all. But she had come close, she had been on the edge of falling down the same hole she had gone down before and (Y/n) knew there was a chance that she could still fall down that hole and lose the baby. Just because they were lucky this time didn't mean they would be next time.

"Can I ask you something?" Ben didn't know what he was supposed to say or what he was supposed to do but there was something burning into the back of his mind and he had to ask.

(Y/n) didn't trust her voice so she simply nodded, her eyes eager to know what Ben wanted to ask.

"Last night... you were so sure we'd lost the baby, is that why you didn't want to tell anyone? Because you thought we'd lose them?" Ben pursed his lips as his expression turned to one of confusion and pain. It struck him as odd how sure (Y/n) had been that they'd lost the baby and that was it, she seemed so sure and final about it. He couldn't help but wonder if she never wanted to tell anyone because she was so sure they would lose the baby.

(Y/n) removed her hand from her stomach so she could tightly clasp her hands together as she started to scratch at her palms out of nervousness. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as she nodded because it was true and Ben already seemed to know it.

"Why?"

"Why what?" (Y/n)'s voice was quiet and scratchy from sleep. She slowly lifted her head to look at Ben as he shuffled closer until he was sitting next to her.

"Why would you think we'd lose the baby? You've been so worried and so sure they wouldn't make it and I know that's why you didn't want to tell me in the first place. What made you so sure?" Ben could see now that (Y/n)'s panic and tears when she told him she was pregnant wasn't because she was worried about how he would react or what it would mean, she was worried she would tell him to then lose the baby. But he couldn't see why that was such a big concern for her or something that was constantly playing on her mind like this.

Tipping her head back, (Y/n) turned away from Ben so he couldn't see her lips falling at the corners or the tears beginning to fall from her eyes. There was no answer but the truth to Ben's question, but (Y/n) didn't know if she was ready for that.

She'd kept it from Ben for nine months now, if things had gone differently they would have already had their baby by now. They'd been married now for a year and it was one of the best and worst year's of (Y/n)'s life because she found Ben but she lost her baby too. Telling Ben now would be such a wound to him because he would realise that she hadn't told him for just over nine months. He wasn't going to take that lightly and (Y/n) didn't know if she was ready for that argument.

But at the same time, (Y/n) was sick of hoarding this secret to herself.

It was time to come clean.

"I- I knew it would happen, it's like I'm not meant to have a baby." (Y/n) dug her nails into the palms of her hands, unable to look at Ben even when he reached over and tried to take hold of her hand. She knew she wasn't making sense, but (Y/n) wished Ben could just read her mind or read between the lines so she didn't actually have to say it.

"Why on Earth would you think that?" Hearing (Y/n) say that felt like someone had driven a spike through Ben's heart. She sounded so broken and in pain but he couldn't understand why. They had nearly lost their baby last night but they didn't, that was proof enough that (Y/n) clearly was meant to be a mother and have a baby or else they would have lost the baby, surely.

"Because I had a miscarriage."

The moment (Y/n) allowed those few little words to pass through her lips she was desperate to take them back. She felt the urge to grasp the air like she was taking the words back or clamp her hand over her mouth like she was indicating that she didn't mean what she said. But she meant it because it was the truth. If this scare hadn't happened last night she would have no need to even think about telling Ben her secret but it was too late to think about her decision now. She'd already spoken the words that were surely going to shatter her husband into pieces.

Plucking up the courage to witness Ben's change in expression, (Y/n) lifted her eyes from her hands to look at her husband but she could hardly see him due to the tears glossing over her eyes. The first tear jumped from her lashes when Ben's hand retracted from her arm the moment he seemed to register and understand what she had just said.

Ben's eyes narrowed but his lips curved and he huffed like he was trying to laugh at a joke he didn't understand.

What was she talking about?

If this was a joke, Ben certainly didn't find it funny and the way that he retracted himself from (Y/n) and reeled in on himself showed as much. His shaking hands slowly curled until his nails were puncturing into the palms of his hands but his eyes never strayed away from (Y/n)'s gaze. He started to shake his head but he didn't know why he was trying to fight what she had told him. There was no way she would make something like this up, especially not now.

"What... no. You weren't- you haven't been pregnant before! (Y/n) I don't understand." Each word was said with more power and emotion forcing them out into the open but Ben's expression fell like he was going to cry or even be sick. He watched (Y/n) take a deep breath but she wasn't trying to say anything, she could hardly keep her eyes focused on him. "Explain it to me!" Ben tried to refrain from shouting but his voice was louder than it should have been and his tone was bordering on cruel. He didn't know what she was talking about, (Y/n) had to explain what she meant before Ben found himself going mad.

(Y/n) swallowed a whimper at his sudden change in tone but she couldn't stop herself from shaking or closing her eyes like she expected him to lash out at her. This was why she didn't want to tell him, she was only causing him pain that he didn't need nor deserve.

"W-we'd only been married a few months... I was going to tell you but I- I lost them. I didn't know what to do, no one else knew but me."

A look of realisation seemed to dawn on Ben's face that sent a violent shiver and a rush of fear flooding through (Y/n). It was like he had been blind to something but was now able to see and he didn't like what he was faced with. When his eyes seemed to drift for a moment before focusing back on (Y/n), there were tears falling from his eyes and his breathing was panicked as if he was drowning and couldn't catch enough air.

"That's why you..." Ben cut himself off, smothering his lips with his hand like he was going to be sick at the thought. "You were ill, y-you wouldn't leave the palace or talk to anyone, that's why you got so defensive when someone talked about having kids." Ben could see now that (Y/n) hadn't just been feeling under the weather or homesick or just mentally drained like he had suspected. She had been grieving and in pain without telling him or anyone else. That was why she lost her temper or got panicked whenever someone talked about having a baby, even when Ben tried to talk about it she closed down and he didn't think to ask why.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) tried to reach for Ben's hand but a sob bubbled past her lips when he jerked away from her like he thought her touch would scold him.

"Ben, please-"

"Why wouldn't you tell me? We've been married a year (Y/n), a fucking year and over half of that time you've kept this from me! I would have understood why you were so upset and afraid, I would have waited and I would have helped you. You grieved for months on your own, you worried me for months when you should have said something, I had a right to know."

Ben furiously wiped at his reddening eyes that were becoming sore from the amount of tears he was now shedding like a second skin. If (Y/n) had told him he would have understood why she wanted to wait to try again for a child, he would have comforted her when she grieved and cried and he would have listened to anything she said. If he knew he would have realised why she seemed ill and distant from him, he should have known so he could have helped her through that but he had been a bystander who was none the wiser like everyone else.

"I wanted to! S-so many times I tried to tell you but the longer I didn't, the worse it felt. You weren't there when it happened, I just... I just wanted the memory to go away. If people knew they would have been different towards me." The longer (Y/n) left it to tell Ben, the less chance she felt she had to tell him. The window of opportunity started to close and (Y/n) decided just to cope on her own, despite how much she craved Ben's comfort. It was her decision to make whether she told anyone or not.

"You can't keep things like that from me because it was my child you lost, even if I wasn't there and you shouldn't force yourself to go through that alone. I know our marriage is unconventional, but that is not the way this works (Y/n)." The way Ben said her name made (Y/n) shudder, he hardly ever said her name anymore, he was so used to using terms of endearment but he couldn't do that when he felt like this and when he argued with her.

When Ben pushed himself from the bed, (Y/n) felt a bolt of panic surging through her as her eyes followed him walking towards the door. Pushing the cover off her frame, (Y/n) sat up straighter before attempting to get out of bed. He couldn't leave her, they couldn't leave the argument like this they never left a row unresolved and (Y/n) didn't want him to go.

She didn't want to be alone.

"W-where are you going?" There was panic and anxiety behind her words and it cut through Ben and caused him to stop walking, his head turning in her direction as he watched her try and stand up to follow him.

"I'm leaving before this conversation puts risk to you or the baby, you need to stay here and rest." Ben didn't move or turn towards the door until (Y/n) sat back down on the bed but he looked away for a moment when fresh tears started to fall from (Y/n)'s eyes at his words. She didn't want him to go and he could see that in her eyes, but he couldn't stay right now. If Ben stayed they would talk and that would cause arguments they were bound to have sooner or later. There was no way Ben was going to argue any more and risk (Y/n) making herself ill or causing any harm to the baby they almost lost.

"Ben, don't leave me." Tears fell freely from (Y/n)'s eyes as her throat tightened up, almost stopping her words from escaping.

"I can't stay without upsetting us both. If something happens to you or the baby, at least have the decency to call me this time around."

(Y/n) clamped her hand over her mouth but it didn't stop the gut-wrenching sob from leaving her lips when he shut the door behind him. If she'd of lost the baby last night, maybe she wouldn't have cared that Ben left or wouldn't have cared so much about telling him the truth. But the relief she felt about the baby was being crushed by the hurt she had unintentionally caused Ben and him leaving only made her feel worse. She needed him to stay but he didn't want to.

What had she done?

[cazziamo]

Runaway [8]

requested: no lol

group/member: EXO/ Baekhyun

word count: 5.9k

summary:  All it takes is being at the wrong place, at the wrong time for you to be dragged back into the world you had tried so hard to leave behind.

[a/n]: aaaaaand i’m finally back lmfao so to make a long story short i rlly have no idea where this story is going so i just kinda write?? and whatever happens happens and well,,,,,,, this happened. unedited bc we die like men also i’ve had no sleep

warnings: violence, mentions of drug/drug use (marijuana), alcohol, smut (finally bitches)

When you say the boys bickered the entire way to the fair, you meant the entire way. Baekhyun was being as annoying as ever, teasing both you and your brother constantly. You were used to it but Tae was not, and the fact that his temper may have been quicker than yours started to show. Everything you said just seemed to make it worse, so you decidedly kept your mouth shut for most of the walk, but there was no stopping the grin on your face. 

"And just what are you grinning at?" Your brother whipped his head towards you, lifting his hand to push at your forehead. "Wipe it off your face, you look dumb."

"I just missed you." You said, a little surprised at your own tone. "I haven't seen you in a while and so much has changed again recently that it's good to do something... normal, y'know?" You ignored the way your brother side-eyed  you for a moment, the corners of his lips tugging down into a frown. He didn't say anything, but you knew it was enough to clue him in. He'd always been too smart for his own good.

"You said we had a lot to talk about." Tae said it bluntly, not asking you in any way.  He stopped walking and turned to face you directly with furrowed brows. You stopped also, but with much more hesitance than he had, grateful that the streets had emptied out and there were hardly any people near you. "Is it what I think it is?"

"...yeah." You answered honestly, keeping your eyes locked on his. "But it's not exactly how you're thinking it-"

"I don't care how different it is, you promised!" He hissed angrily, grabbing at the sleeves of your jacket. "You promised me no more, that you were done-"

"I was!" You yelled. Baekhyun, who was being strangely silent, began to look around, and so you made sure to quiet yourself. "I was done, but I didn't have a choice this time. I would have been killed." You explained in as little words as possible, hoping that your brother would let it go for now. "That's why I said we had to talk about it, but can we have just a couple of good hours together before we go back and deal with this shit? Please?"

The tendons in your brother's neck jumped as he grit his teeth, jerking his body to the side, where his eyes landed on Baekhyun. "And how is he involved?"

"Later, please." You hated how exhausted you sounded, how 'emotionally tired' practically dripped from your words. But it was enough that your brother seemingly let it go, his shoulders sagging with the long exhale he gave. Without another word he turned and continued walking, leaving you behind. Baekhyun came around to your side and nudged you forward, looping his arm back around your shoulders. Your brother hadn't gone too far ahead, having stopped to wait for you guys at the corner, but once he saw you two were following he continued on his way. It was reassuring that he was still going to the fair with you, and hopefully it meant that he would be just as forgiving later when you actually explained. If he wanted nothing to do with you, then he would have already been gone. He's always been the type to stick to his guns, whether the people involved were strangers, friends, or family. 

"You don't have to stay while we talk later." Baekhyun didn't look your way after you spoke, and for a moment you were worried you had spoken too lowly.

"Do you want me too?" He asked in response, again not looking your way at all, and somehow that bothered you. You still didn't understand why he was acting so differently around you, and you knew that there was no merit in what he told you earlier. Of course he had been teasing you, because who admitted to a crush so casually after so little time knowing that person? And in public in broad daylight?

You weren't a virgin by any means, but your actual romantic experience was next to nothing. Your parents had never had a good relationship so there were no early examples to draw from, and the older you got the less of a chance you had to find something for yourself. If it hadn't been for the fact that you were forced to go to extreme lengths for your family, then maybe you would have, but it was hard to have crushes when you're surrounded predominantly by older, mean, ruthless men and a whole lot of bloodshed. There were one night stands all the time, so it wasn't that you were unsatisfied, but you didn't know how to tell genuine interest from anything else. 

As far as you knew, Baekhyun could just be wanting to keep an eye on you, make sure you wouldn't try to bail, or he was trying to get close to you to convince you to give up the key. He was just invested because of his pride, not because he actually wanted you. There had been too many incidents, too many accidents and 'I didn't mean it's and altercations because you had been dumb enough to trust a man in your line of work. 

Even still, you found yourself answering Baek with "No." You wet your lips and couldn't help but bite onto your bottom one anxiously. "I would honestly feel better if you stayed, I guess."

"Then I stay." His answer came quick, and his voice was firm when he said it, like he wasn't going to change his mind for anything. He stopped walking and used the arm on your shoulder to stop you also, turning to face you. "Don't worry about that for now, anyway." He reached upwards and pushed your hair back, lifting his other hand to smooth the frizz down at the top, before leaving them resting on your cheeks. Either you were beginning to blush or his hands were just very, very warm. "We're gonna go to this carnival, have some fun, get some food, and then figure it out as we go, so get stepping." He turned you to face forward again and shoved you lightly, making sure to fall in line with you after. It was enough to make you laugh, deciding to do as he says and just deal with everything as it happens instead of ruining the time out by stressing. Besides, who knew when you would be able to leave the hideout like this again, so it was better to just take advantage of it. 

By that time, you guys could finally see the fair at the corner, and the awkward form of your brother leaning against the gates of the entrance. He had already bought his wristband and had it looped loosely around his right wrist, his left hand fiddling with his phone. As the two of you hurried over to join him, Tae stood fully, shoving his hand roughly into his pocket to pull something out.

"Here," His hand shot out towards the two of you before you were even fully there, and you saw two more wristbands dangling from his hand. "Hurry up, I want to ride the Zipper first." Without another word, he turned and went through the gates, flashing his wristband when the attendant tried to stop him. You moved quickly after him, fastening the wristband around yourself as you darted through the gates, Baekhyun close behind on your heels. 

The lines weren't too bad tonight, and you guys were able to quickly get on the rides that you wanted. True to your word from earlier, you sat next to your brother on almost all of the rides and Baekhyun didn't say a word about it, just settling himself in the carts behind you or even skipping the ride altogether. He claimed that the Zipper would make him way too nauseous and resorted to being the bag man of the trip, to which your brother certainly wasn't complaining. Tae would just pile his jacket into Baek's arms and throw his little backpack at him before getting into line without a word. You knew that he was just giving you and your brother the time together, and you really were thankful for him letting you out. You didn't know if you two would be in trouble with Suho later, but hopefully once the two explained everything he would let you off easy. 

The three of you rode most of the rides there (thanks to the wristbands) and played quite a few games in between, which is where Baekhyun really became useful. It came to the point where you couldn't even see Baekhyun's hair over the pile of giant stuffed animals in his arms, of which only two were yours. The other few of them belonged to your brother, who surprisingly had very good aim (it must have run in the family). Tae seemed to be enjoying himself well enough, your usually rather stoic brother cracking more than a few grins throughout the night. It was nice to have the time with him, and the longer you spent out, the less you minded Baekhyun being there with you. 

It was after you caught your brother stifling his third yawn in about twenty minutes that you made the suggestion to leave. He blinked at you with bleary eyes and agreed with you, and it was then that you felt the anxiety begin to bubble in your stomach. Grabbing a few of the stuffed animals from Baekhyun, the three of you left the park and headed towards the train station; your brother lived only two stops away from where he worked, which was one of the reasons why he liked the job. He said it was a pain to find work somewhere else since everywhere else was too far, but you had the sneaky suspicion your brother just liked the tips he would get from the university girls. 

Usually anxiety made you feel like everything was moving at a snails pace, slow and steady to the point you felt like you would go insane before anything happened. Today, it felt like everything was sped up, like someone had pressed the nitro boost on the train to make it accelerate at an alarming rate. Things were moving too fast for you, and you were scrambling to make a plan for when you spoke to your brother, but your brain was too overcrowded with worst case scenarios and blow out arguments to even start. The two stops passed fast enough that you felt you had only just sat down, and then a few blurry moments later your brother was putting his code in for the door to his apartment. He kicked off his shoes at the door and left them where they landed, trudging in to plop onto his armchair. You followed behind him, taking the time to put his sneakers on the rack and placing yours neatly by the edge before following him into the living room, Baekhyun right behind you. 

As you situated yourself on the side of the couch closest to your brother, he began to speak. "So, please, enlighten me as to how everything is different this time, and how the bozo on your left is involved." 

Baekhyun huffed indignantly but otherwise stayed silent, wisely redirecting his attention somewhere else. You ran a hand through your hair, mussing it up before flopping it back down to your lap, huffing yourself. "It's different this time because I didn't have a choice, Tae. I didn't even go willingly this time, I was knocked out and taken. Saw something I wasn't supposed to, and the option was do as they said or die. If I'm being honest, I told them to just kill me, but then the asshole just smirked at me and told one of his guys to take me to my room. And then some people from Owls showed up at my apartment and shot the place up and that's how I got sucked back in." You weren't sure how much you had actually breathed while spitting that out, and if how you were panting was anything to judge by, you didn't think you had. "And then I got used as bait and we took down the guys who were trying to kill me but then they said that they knew you and I didn't have a choice, Tae. I did what I had to." 

Your brother was completely silent while you spoke, only blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes when you had finished. "And him?" He asked, jutting his chin towards Baekhyun.

"I was the one who brought her in." Baek spoke before you could, and effectively telling your brother the one thing you wouldn't have mentioned. "I had a deal outside of her apartment building, and she came home right in the middle of it. She put up a good fight, but I got her  and now here we are."

You shifted nervously, picking at the fabric of your pants with eyes that flickered back and forth between Baekhyun and your brother. Your brother leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair and messing it up. "So you're the reason we're going through this shit again?" He huffed, standing up straight out of the chair. He only took a few steps forward, but everything about him screamed that he was a second from snapping. "You-" His voice was raising and he aggressively pointed at Baekhyun, stepping close enough this time that his fingertip was inches away from Baekhyun's face. "You are the reason that everything has gone to shit again?"

Baekhyun's face was steeled- a dangerous sort of calm as he reached up and moved your brothers hand out of face. "Yeah."

The hand that Baekhyun had moved away suddenly curled into a fist and flashed forward so quickly you would have missed it if not for your hyper vigilance in the tense atmosphere. Baekhyun's head had snapped backwards, one arm reaching backwards to steady himself on the back of the couch and the other flinging forward to grab onto your brothers shirt. He pushed himself off of the couch with his legs and used his momentum to shove Tae backwards. Tae tripped over the coffee table and fell backwards, Baekhyun quickly getting on top of him. Baek's knees were on your brothers forearms and he was sitting on his chest to keep him pinned. Your brain finally kicked in and you lunged off the couch, throwing yourself across the table to tackle Baekhyun off of him, and as soon as Baek's weight was gone, your brother rolled over and got up, swinging at Baek again.

"Tae, stop!" You yelled, trying to grab his arms, but he shook you off roughly and went after Baekhyun again and again. Grabbing his arms again, you tried to pin them behind his back but he shoved you this time, sending you crashing into the table.

"You motherfucker!" Tae screamed, throwing his leg out to kick Baekhyun in his side, who managed to grab his leg and yank him to the floor, rolling on top of him again. "You fucking asshole, do you have any idea what you've done?" He bucked and threw Baekhyun off of him, shooting up onto his knees to drive an elbow into Baekhyun's chest. The two continued to grapple on the floor until you had finally had enough, anxiety and adrenaline and upset all bubbling forward until you abruptly sat on the couch and burst into tears.

Your brother was just venting, and you knew it, but for some reason you couldn't focus on anything other than the fact that despite all of the attacks on him, Baekhyun had yet to retaliate against your brother even once. Every move he had made towards Tae was purely of defense and attempts to pin him, and it showed you a different side of Baekhyun. Maybe you were being self-centered in the whole situation, thinking things were because of you when they probably weren't, trying to make yourself into a victim when you most likely didn't have a right to be, but there was a part of you that believed Baekhyun was trying to spare you as much in the situation as possible.

And the situation was one that honestly scared you, and wondered where your brother had been keeping all of this rage and sadness bottled up inside of him. He was screaming about the times before and how things had been so, so good, and it broke your heart. You knew he wouldn't ever turn out the way you had, that he wouldn't make the same rash decisions you had at his age, but watching him throw perfectly formed punches with a brutal amount of force behind them made you think about the circumstances in which he had learned them. 

The two stopped almost immediately, both freezing in place before turning to look at you. Your brother managed to scramble over first, fixing his hair with one hand and using the other to awkwardly pat your shoulder. 

"You two are such assholes!" You blubbered, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. "This- this isn't what I wanted, I just wanted you not to hate me and cut me off and-"

"I don't hate you." Your brother rushed out, almost slurring his words with how fast he tried to speak. "And I'm not gonna cut you off or anything so just- just don't do that." He gestured to your face, cringing away from you after. "Just don't cry, I don't know how to handle people crying."

So you cried more. "I didn't have a choice, Tae, they knew where you lived!"

"I know, I know." He frantically tried to soothe you. "I'm not mad at you, I just don't want things to be like before-"

"I didn't have a choice then either, Tae! Neither of them were working and we were starting to get eviction threats, for Christ's sake. I did what I had to!"

"You left me-"

"They threw me out! Beat the shit out of me and then threw me on the streets in the middle of the fucking night." Your voice broke again, and it was then that Baekhyun slumped down on your other side, his arm finding its way onto your hunched back, his thumb gliding gently. "I was fifteen, too young for a real job and no where else to go. I didn't have a choice, Tae. I just did what I could to make shit work." There was a long pause after you finished, the silence of the room filled with your shaky breathing and sniffles.

"Well, it didn't." He finally said. His voice was harsh and firm and he turned to glare down at you, lips pursed like he had something more to say. Instead of speaking, he just licked his lips and huffed, turning on his heel and walking down the hallway, leaving you and Baekhyun in the wavering silence of the living room. Wavering because you were trying to pull it together, to turn the sobbing into silence, relapsing back into cries every couple of tries. Baekhyun was still being quiet, not getting too close as you worked through your shit, and eventually you had pulled it together enough to speak clearly. 

"I guess that's our cue to show ourselves out." You said with a shaky voice, rubbing the palms of your hands against your legs before patting them and standing. 

He reached out and grabbed one of your hands, cupping it in both of his before grabbing the other one and covering it. "You're shaking," He murmured, sounding like he was talking more to himself than he was to you. 

You shifted your weight awkwardly, pulling your hands from him and shoving them into your jacket pockets. "Can we just go already?" You whined, already moving towards the door. He trailed after you, putting his shoes on halfway before following you out of the door and fixing them as he went. He came up behind you and tried to pull your hand out of your pocket, but you yanked yourself away from him and quickened your pace, eager to get home and sleep and forget about all of this as soon as possible.

______________________________________________________________

A few hours, a good cry, and a fat nap later, you found yourself waking up in the near middle of the night. You had skipped dinner after your explanation to Suho (who looked like a disappointed father when you returned) and went right to your room, and you could feel the effects of not eating coiling in your stomach after so long. Still in your clothes from earlier, you stumbled out of your room and headed towards the kitchen.

The light was already on in there, and the sliding door that lead to the smoking room was open a few inches. You ignored it, pouring yourself a glass of water and heating it up in the microwave for some tea. Rummaging around in the fridge yielded nothing but leftovers and small snacks, so you settled for kimchi and cold fried rice, eating while your tea steeped. It wasn't until you had shoveled your first large bite of mixed food into your mouth that you heard the muffled cursing from the room beside you. Cheeks still puffed from the food, you stood and made your way over to the door and peeked in. 

You were surprised to see Baekhyun sitting there, an open bottle of whiskey and a tall glass filled halfway with the said drink next to him. He was fiddling with something in his hands, and as you opened the door wilder and walked in, you realized he was running his lighter down a barely lit joint. 

"Damn," He hissed, putting it out before attempting to relight it, and even from where you were standing, you could see how his form hunched in the chair and how his hands were shaking. He hadn't even noticed you were in the room yet, showing you just how smashed he was, so you walked over to him and snatched the joint from him, setting it in between your lips and pulling to light it. After you exhaled the smoke and checked to make sure it wasn't canoeing like before, you passed it back to him. He took it and immediately inhaled deeply, exhaling through his nose before hitting it again and passing it back to you. 

"What are you doing, Baek?" You asked him quietly. "I thought I was the one with midnight breakdowns around here."

He laughed humorlessly, a quick scoff that made you sit straight. "I needed everything to stop for a little while." He replied, taking a long swig of his drink. "Was too loud." He mumbled.

You reached over and took the bottle, dragging it to your side of the coffee table before taking a long sip, wincing from the burn after. "Wanna talk about it?" You ashed the joint and passed it back to him, but your only answer was a long groan as a soft thud as his head hit the table. 

"I fuck up everything in sight." He whined, lifting his head just enough to take a long puff before setting it back down again. "No matter where I go, I fuck things up so I feel good and then it bites me in the ass later."

"What'd you do this time?" You asked, barely managing to hide the amusement in your voice, although any that you felt was immediately squashed after he spoke next. 

"You." He moaned miserably, burying his head in his arms. You didn't know how to answer and just decided not to, watching the ashes fall from the end of the paper and flutter to the floor. "I've never had to deal with this shit before. Anyone I've brought in, I've never been close to like this. I didn't just see what I did to you, but I had to face your brother and see what I did to him too. And I can't fix any of it, can't do a damn thing about it."

"Why is it bothering you so much, Baek?" You leaned over and placed your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his soft hair and running your hand through it to soothe him. "I'm not mad anymore, I've accepted it."

'Because I have big feelings for you. I don't wanna name them yet because that shit scares me, but I do." His free hand reached upwards to cover yours on his head, stilling it. He didn't turn to look at you, but somehow you got the feeling that he wasn't as smashed as you had thought. 

"What feelings?" You surprised yourself by asking. 

"Sappy shit." He spat out, sounding almost angry. "I like your face, but I like your smile more. I like your eyes and your stupid nose and your witch cackle laugh and the weird snort you sometimes do when you try not to laugh. I like how much you like penguins and sharks and how loyal and strong you are. I like how hard you've worked to take car of your brother, and how you're trying to take care of me now. I like how excited you get when you talk about shit you like because you're just so fucking cute sometimes that it disgusts me, and then I get disgusted by how much I like liking you. It shouldn't be like this but it is and I know shit won't go anywhere because I fucked your life up again, and it doesn't matter if you don't hate me for it because I already hate myself." He rambled on and on, stopping only once to take another insanely long drag of the joint, followed by an even longer swig of his whiskey, draining the glass. 

"I'm only gonna say this straight because of how drunk you are, it's kind of hard to get embarrassed." You smiled, reaching with your other hand to take the joint from him and place it down in the ashtray. You pulled both of his hands away from himself, pulling him into a straight sitting position and locking eyes with him. "I'm pretty sure I like you too. You annoy me but it's only because the things you say make me embarrassed, and I hate how I can't react the way I want to around you. My heart does fucking flips in my chest and I feel like throwing up all of time because I'm stuck between wanting to touch you and wanting to stay away so I didn't catch these feelings, but obviously it didn't work, because here we are."

" 'M drunk," He whispered, slurring his words slightly. His eyes were cast aside, avoiding yours as best as she could, so you grabbed him by the cheeks and forced him to look at you. 

"You are, but that doesn't mean this isn't real." He leaned into your palms, turning his head to the side to press a light kiss to your hand. 

You laughed lightly, starting to draw your hands back. Baekhyun followed your movements, rising on wobbly legs to lean over the coffee table towards you, slumping clumsily towards you. His forehead knocked into yours harshly and he lost balance, nearly falling on top of you, but you were quick enough to steady him and laughed breathlessly. His eyes were closed, his breath warm as his god damn whiskey breath smacked you in the face, but the tension in the air was enough that you ignored it, moving your eyes from his closed ones to his lips, and you decided to hurry up and just do it, surging upwards to close the gap.

His reaction was instantaneous- his arms flying up to your back, one of them sliding upwards to wind itself tightly into your hair. His mouth slotted sloppily over yours, using his hand in your hair to angle your head to deepen the kiss. He stepped around the small coffee table, managing not to lose contact with your body, instead pressing himself against you. The space between you two was minimal, reduced to nothing as he absolutely dominated the kiss. It was hot and heavy and aggressive, like a stretched out rubber band that was about to snap at any moment. 

Baekhyun spun your bodies around, taking up where you had previously been sitting on the chair and yanking you down onto his lap. The hand in your hair tightened, pulling your head back sharply and breaking the kiss, allowing Baekhyun the room to mouth hotly at you neck, pressing open mouthed kisses and laving his tongue down to your clavicle before moving back upwards to bite down near your pulse point. You keened, moaning airily at the sensations. Your hand flew upwards, grappling at his shoulder to find purchase, to steady yourself in the too fast and too intense situation. 

The hand wrapped around your waist slinked lower, his hand coming down to palm your ass, gripping it roughly before moving back to your waist, pulling your hips down to grind harshly into his. You were turned on enough at this point that the smallest bit of pressure sent your nerves haywire, and feeling his already hard length pressing into you sent your body up in flames. Your breath hitched, choking on the groan that rose in your throat, and you could feel the vibrations on your neck from Baekhyun's satisfied hum. 

"So eager already." He murmured, pulling back from you to stare at you with hazy eyes. His hands never stopped moving, one moving back to your ass and the other trailing to your front to palm your heat through your jeans. His hands would fiddle with he button of your jeans before trailing down to your center, putting pressure against you as he dragged his hand back upwards again to the button. "Want me to touch you, baby?"

"Yes," you breathed, shuddering on his lap. "Please, Baekhyun."

He hummed, flicking open the button and pulling down your zipper far enough that his hand fit in, and he wasted no time in touching you. His fingers dragged roughly over your panties before finding the edges, wiggling his hand past the band and right onto your soaked mound. "So wet, so hot." He said, fingers gliding across your clit with ease, sending you bucking into him.  "Want you so much, wanna bend you over this table and fuck you stupid right here."

You groaned , placing your hands behind you on Baekhyun's knees to steady yourself, leaning back to there was more room between the two of you. He started to tug at the waistband of your jeans, and you lifted off of his lap so he could tug them down for you. He was frenzied now, moving so quickly that he didn't bother taking your pants all the way off, leaving the jeans and panties dangling from one of your ankles. Instead of sitting back on his lap, he flipped you over and pinned your body to the couch, stuffing two fingers inside of you. 

Your hips bucked, forcing Baekhyun to put his hands on your hips and push to keep you still. A long, feral moan tore from your throat, one arm flying into his hair to grip tightly. His fingers were long and thin, reaching deeper parts of you that you could never reach yourself, and as he crooked his fingers inside of you, you felt like you were melting into the couch. 

"Please," You begged, voice breathy and words slurred almost to the point of in-coherency. "Please, Baek, need more." You groaned, attempting to roll your hips into his. He didn't respond, opting to move instead. Without a word, he slid his body down yours until his face was directly in front of your sopping heat, and you watched him lick his lips once before diving in. 

The second his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked your body caved in on itself, body twitching at the sudden over-stimulation. His fingers were thrusting in and out of you at a rapid pace, his wrist flicking skillfully to drag them along your inner walls in rhythm with his swirling tongue. He was eating you like a man starved, and had you not been so many sheets to the wind, you might've been embarrassed at the obscene noises the two of you were making.

Your body shuddered, walls fluttering over his fingers as he pushed you closer to the edge. You whined desperately, writhing on the couch underneath his onslaught. "Gonna come on my fingers, baby?" Baekhyun suddenly sat up onto his knees, putting more force behind his hand. "I want you to, wanna see you dripping all over my hand, wanna see your face all fucked out underneath me. Would you like that, baby?" Moaning loudly, you nodded frantically, eyes screwed shut. You could feel the pressure building, the coil in your stomach burning bright red with the heat you were feeling You just needed one good push, just a little more to send you over the edge, and Baekhyun didn't disappoint. His other hand trailed upwards from where it had been occupied with your breasts, up to your throat where it curled around it, fingers squeezing with just enough pleasure to have your head tipping back and hips stuttering. 

Everything was building up, it was reaching a peak so intense that it almost scared you. You had never felt like this before, not this fast, and most certainly not just from someones fingers. His thumb rubbing on your clit, his fingers hitting all the right spots inside you, and his had wrapped around your throat was finished off by his single word. "Cum." And you did. You did so strongly that you swear you blacked out for a moment, eyes squeezed shut tightly enough that white exploded behind them, Your body arched higher than it had before, shuddering and twitching as he continued his onslaught, high pitched whines flowing continuously from you. 

"Good girl." He said, slowing his thrusts gradually, letting you ride out the last bits of your high. He pulled his fingers from you slowly, dragging them over your clit and sending you whining, body twisting to get away from the near painful sensations. His hand reached up to smooth over your mussed up hair, and even as your body shook from the aftershocks, your eyes slid closed. You were trying to catch your breath, but Baekhyun was trying to clumsily detach himself from you. Eventually he did so and disappeared for a moment, returning shortly with a few tissues.

"Let's get you cleaned up and in bed, baby girl." You hummed in complacent agreement, not yet having the energy or will to move. He carefully dressed you back up, not bothering the button your pants all the way, however, as he attempted to help you up. Both of you were still shaky, but the experience seemed to have sobered him up enough that he could support your weight. The two of you made your way back into your room, Baekhyun flopping onto your bed while you slowly changed, before settling in beside him. As the two of you situated yourselves, intertwining legs and maneuvering arms around, you realized that this was a type of complacent you hadn't felt in a long time, a content, calm, and happy feeling settling inside your chest. It was with this warmth, this content inside and out, and in Baekhyun's arms that you drifted off to sleep, for once not worried about tomorrow. 

[searlaitflanagan]

i’ve tripped and i’m falling but i’ll stop tomorrow → solo.

TAGGING — Charlie Flanagan. Dakota Shaw ( NPC ). LOCATION — Charlie’s apartment ( mostly ).  DATE & TIME — March 23, 2021; evening.  NOTES — An unexpected trigger sends Charlie down the path to relapse.  WORD COUNT & TRIGGERS — 2,141. Descriptions of drug use, anxiety & panic attacks.

The sun’s setting somewhere far beyond her apartment windows when she stirs on the couch-- calculates her ascent into wakefulness by taking stock of her entire body; she takes in the steady rise and fall of her own chest-- the pressure there likely Indy having curled up there when she fell asleep-- a thought that’s confirmed a few moments later by the sandpaper tongue brushing across her cheek as Indy greets her-- seeming to realize she’s awake before she’s as aware of herself as she’d like. “Hi, sweet boy,” Charlie mumbles, voice still thick with sleep as she buries her fingers into the shaggy fur along Indy’s neck-- a low, rolling laugh spreading through her chest as her cat begins to purr in earnest from the simple touch.

She stays there, eyes half-closed against the dim light shining through her curtains, takes a moment to enjoy the feeling of contentment spreading through her-- curling into a warmth in her chest, a lightness in the sluggish pause of her ordinarily anxiety-ridden thoughts.

She feels good. 

Settled. 

Comfortable.

She runs through the adjectives to describe her mood to herself-- the way her psychiatrist is convinced will help if she really does it in earnest when she wants to parse out her emotions in any given moment and it does work-- Charlie enjoys the bemused frown Dr. Kaplan gives her when she’s being particularly difficult but she appreciates the older woman’s patience and advice all the same. Indy shifts against her chest into a long stretch that draws both Charlie’s attention and another throaty laugh as she reaches up to scratch under his chin and accepts another lick or two against her fingers before he begins to knead her skin happily just above the hem of her t-shirt and she’s gingerly moving him into her lap as she sits up-- watching his wide amber eyes as she goes. “Lemme go get a sweatshirt before you go crazy,” She says patiently, snorting when Indy butts his head against the edge of her wrist as though offended at what she’s suggesting but he pads away easily enough when she slips off of the couch and down the hall to her bedroom.

There’s an old UCLA hoodie somewhere in her closet she hasn’t worn in months but it’s comfortable and large enough that Indy’s claws rarely even pierce the fabric so he can show her affection to his heart’s content and she can relax without monitoring cat scratches for any period of time. She knows why it’s in there-- wonders as she pushes into her room if it’ll smell musty or like Katie’s perfume considering she was the last one to wear it before—

Charlie shakes her head hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to breathe until she closes her eyes and counts backwards from ten and tries not to think about the crescent shaped marks that might as well be tattooed into her palms as she unclenches her fists and ignores the sting she leaves behind. “It’s not gonna smell like her,” She says under her breath, shifting onto the tips of her toes to retrieve the box she’s certain the hoodie is hiding in-- one of the few things she’s never bothered to unpack. She’s not positive as to the its contents— it isn’t labelled but the dark blue sleeve flopping out of the side is all the confirmation she needs that it’s what she’s looking for. It doesn’t smell like anything at all when she raises it to her nose and she sits with the lump in her throat-- the pit in her stomach-- the fingers of disappointment that slip up the length of her spine only to seize her heart in a full grasp that leaves her choking on it.

Calm down, she thinks. Calm down. Calm down. Calmdowncalmdowncalmdown. 

Inhale. 

She can’t remember what Katie’s perfume smells like. Flowers? Something softer? 

Exhale. 

She’s going to throw up. Her fingers are trembling and her throat is stinging and she’s going to lose it.

Inhale. 

She’s okay. It’s okay. Smells go and it’s okay. She doesn’t need to remember everything. It’s okay. 

Exhale. 

She can breathe and she reaches for the hoodie with a tremble in her lips-- a quiver in her chin that gives her away to everyone she knows when she’s going to cry-- even herself. She blinks-- eyes wide and pink rimmed already-- watches the slow tumble of a note from one of the pockets and stares at it for a long moment as if it’s going to explode. No, Charlie thinks wryly, that’ll be my job. It’s probably a grocery list or a note she’d written to herself years ago that got lost in the flurry of packing she’d done between LA and Providence Peak and her shoulders slump as she unfolds it-- her anxiety abated for a fraction of a second before her brow furrows deeply at the sight of handwriting she’s so close to having forgotten she can feel the blow of remembrance like a club to the base of her skull.

A watery, rough laugh tears from her throat and it isn’t happy and it isn’t warm and it seems to saw through her as it goes-- a hollowness in the expression of mirth she doesn’t feel when she’s staring at Katie’s handwriting on the page:

VOWS TO MY LITTLE BEAR :)

Charlie chokes on her next breath-- shoves the sweatshirt and the note away from her frantically, head spinning, crashing hard into her desk chair when she stumbles back and scrabbles for a hold on something she knows she won’t get. She feels herself unraveling-- like she’s a bundle of yarn and all the universe has ever needed was the right tug at the right time to send her reeling. She chokes again-- a wracking, sharp cough the only indication her body gives that it’s protesting anything she’s feeling and she feels herself moving as though through knee deep snow, slow and labored and when she crashes to the ground in front of the toilet and vomits it doesn’t feel like enough.

Impulses she doesn’t want to feed flare to life in an instant and she vomits again to the roaring chant of ‘go get well, go get well, go get well’ thundering in the back of her mind with a force she wants desperately to counter. Her hands are sweating when she reaches for the knob on the sink-- when she spits water and what’s left of her dignity into the drain her eyes are cold and hollow, her skin pale and flushed in a measure that doesn’t make her feel anything but a growing desire to make the world quiet. When her trembling eases and she can take a step without wondering how likely she is to fall down she hurries to her bedroom again-- rifles through her desk until she finds her medication-- Adderall, to start-- it’s always to start. With trembling fingers Charlie breaks two of the capsules open and arranges the powder inside into neat lines with steadier movements than she thinks should be possible when she’s throwing her entire life down the drain with a cold cackle that she only realizes is coming from her after she’s snorting the second line and relishing in the soothing lightheadedness that hits her a few moments later.

It’s not going to end with that and she knows it. She knows it never does and never has and never will and she’s hardly looking as she shoves her feet into her shoes and texts a number she hasn’t looked at in her phone for months and still remembers like she’s been using it in the nine months since her last relapse.

[ text to  → Kota ( DO NOT TEXT ) ]: hey, dude. you got anything good? losing my mind a little. need something. 

[ text from → Kota ( DO NOT TEXT ) ]: daaaamn if it isn’t my favorite girl. i got’cha, babe -- ten minutes? my place?

[ text to → Kota ( DO NOT TEXT ) ]: cool. see ya. 

Dakota’s apartment is an equally shitty downtown building to the one she calls home but it’s familiar and even with her size she doesn’t balk in the face of the drunken cat-calls being tossed her way as she slips into his building and takes the stairs two at a time-- the high she’s still chasing already fading as she raps on his door and flashes him a crooked, fake grin that she knows he won’t recognize as anything but sincere when his half-lidded eyes are raking over her eagerly the way they always do and she’s slipping around him-- careful to brush her fingers along his forearm as she passes by.

“You miss me or somethin’?” He asks, his voice is airy and sluggish in equal measure and she hopes, absently, that he isn’t too high to give her what she needs.

Charlie shrugs, turning on her heel to face him with a smile she knows is just enough to keep his interest-- but Kota’s always been easily swayed by the way she smiles and she’s always been aware enough to take advantage of him for it. Another sin she’ll apologize for when she’s in the ground. “It’s been a while,” She says mildly, a feigned interest in her expression while she watches him. “So. You gonna help me out?” There’s no desperation in her voice and she notes it with satisfaction-- to him she must sound calm and collected-- to herself she sounds like the snap of a thread she’s been trying thicken day by day, moment by moment and knows she won’t come back from snapping any time soon.

She can step back out of his apartment and walk home and cry for an hour and forget she ever texted her former drug dealer for anything at all but when she casts a glance around the apartment and finds what she’s looking for spread out along his coffee table-- when her heart kicks into a gallop that’s half-high and half-nerves-- she knows she won’t be leaving without it and the gnawing ache of disappointment she so desperately wants to shove away only makes the craving worse. Only makes the space beneath her skin buzz with a ferocity she wants to quell with the warmth and silence that the high offers. Even if it doesn’t last.

She knows it won’t.

“How much you need?” He asks as he sits down, dark hair flopping into his eyes in a way Charlie might have found cute if she wasn’t as uninterested in him as it was possible to be.

She fishes her wallet out of her pocket-- counts her tips under her breath and raises an eyebrow in Kota’s direction as she waves two hundred dollars at him lazily, “Gram to start? Coke and some smack if you have it.” 

Dakota whistles in a gesture she thinks might be appreciative as he measures out the agreed upon drugs and passes them to her in exchange for the money-- something just shy of concern in his expression as he passes them to her. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby girl.”

Charlie rolls her eyes, already turning away as she tosses a wave over her shoulder, “That’s kind of the point, babe,” She says as she goes, head down and nerves singing as she follows the alleys between buildings home and pushes into her own apartment-- breathless and trembling all over again, the fading high of her earlier slip-up already making room for the excitement of numb relief. She’s moving without conscious thought as she shrugs off her coat and makes her way back to her room-- closing the door behind her with a quiet click as though there’s anyone else to worry as she settles down in front of her desk and flicks the lamp on with a roll of her shoulders-- her heart in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers to the empty air in her bedroom.

She still doesn’t know who she’s apologizing to. Or what she wants to be sorry for. 

Knows it even less as she portions out a line that’s equal parts cocaine and heroin and is likely going to hit her like a ton of bricks when it settles into her system; her stomach churns roughly at the thought and she takes a moment to Google how to call 911 if she can’t speak before she hunches over the drugs like she would a difficult project and inhales them in a sharp motion that makes the back of her throat sting as things settle.

She leans back with a soft, slow exhale.

She feels the world slip away in bits and pieces. 

“I’m sorry,” She whispers again. 

She doesn’t know what she shouldn’t apologize for. 

[maree-ff]

Pressure

CAMILA

“Ma…” I dragged my mother's name through vain as she spit questions at me left and right. She’s been on my ass ever since I confided in her about my pregnancy. It’s going on week twenty of my second trimester and life is kicking my ass. Our septic system needs to be replaced and I’m having major construction done to the house so I’m apartment hunting. Jessica offered to let the girls and I stay with her but I can’t. Adding two more children and a third adult into their household is a bit much. Amelia needs one on one attention and I need my personal space. 

I spoke to Andre a few days ago, for thirty seconds and then he promised to call back but never did. Some of our calls get cut short and I get so irrationally sad that I end up crying myself to sleep. I’m losing my mind over Andre’s absence. 

“Camila, stop whining and listen to me. You can be so terca at times. Just like tu papa. Have you asked Divya if you can stay with her?” 

Grunting aloud so she can hear my frustration I dropped the house phone in my lap. Just then I heard my cell phone going off. 

“No, because I found a place this morning. Mira, me tengo que ir, I’ll call you later.” Lying through my teeth I briskly hung up and answered my incoming call. “Hello?” I answered. 

“You have one call from California State Prison. Do you accept the charges?” The machine spoke. 

“I accept.” I said clearly. I listened for that signal to speak, grinning from ear to ear to hear his voice. 

“I am so sorry, love. We had a quarantine and a lockdown at the same time which is why you haven’t heard from me.” He said in a rush. 

“I’m just happy to hear your voice. Are you alright?” I questioned. 

“Yeah baby I’m fine. How are you? Talk to me about everything.” His evenly paced breaths really solidified my peace of mind. 

“Cuánto tiempo tenemos?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of not having enough time.

“That bad?” He quieted down telling me he’s not in a joking manner. 

“Si. I’m having major work down to the house and I’m looking for a place to rent out for a while. On top of that, Zoe is sick again. This time I’m not sure what she caught and I’m scared to get sick and then pass it to the baby. But she’s been on one for five days now driving Kenny insane.” I explained. 

“I’d give up everything to be taking care of you ladies. I’m sorry you all are going through so much. You’ve been taking it easy I hope.” 

“Andre, sweetie I’m doing the best I can but it’s hard and I’m extremely worn out. These little girls give me a run for my money sometimes but I’ve learned to love that about them. Don’t get me wrong, they are so loving, caring, and kind-hearted but I’m tired.” I do the best I can to not whine to him about how difficult this situation is for me. Today, I can’t. I need to relieve some of this pressure. 

“I can only imagine how this must be affecting you.” The silence that’s brooding between us gives me anxiety. “Camila, I am so sorry for splitting up this family. I will completely understand if you need to hate me. I will understand whatever decision you make regarding this difficult situation I’ve placed our family in. This is my fault.” His apologetic and never wanting to hurt me attitude is why I can’t seem to be upset for too long. 

“You don’t need to apologize, go me. I just want you to know how I’m feeling. I don’t want you to ever question whether or not I can do this. I don’t want you to doubt my abilities as a mother either. There’s so much to adjust to. We miss you so much and I never want you to forget that.” Needing a deep breath in, I stood up and walked around the room. My sights fanned out over my belly, analyzing the growth of it. 

“How far along are you?” He asked. 

“Twenty weeks, second trimester. The baby has gotten so big. Zoe keeps addressing the baby as “he” because she’s confident that we have a boy coming into the family. I kinda feel like that too. Everyone else is thinking it’s a girl but I’m siding with Zoe all the way.” Talking about the baby gives me mixed feelings. There are times when I’m welcoming of the fact and other times I would trade the baby for Dre. 

We can create life together as long as we’d like to but I can’t replace him. I just can’t. 

“When are you coming back to see me?” I know for a fact this man has some sort of smile or smirk on his face. 

“Whenever you want us too.” Our tones of voice indicate that he and I are on the same page. 

He then says, “Tuesday, come visit on Tuesday. So...what’s the plan for today?” 

I buzzed around again getting ready for the moving truck to come. “Packing up the small stuff and bringing it to our new place. I’ll show you pictures don’t worry. You should talk to the girls before you have to go..” covering the mouthpiece I called out for Kenja and Zoe. 

Walking to the living room I found them sound asleep. Feet touching as usual. 

“Camila, what's wrong?” Andre panicked. 

Holding the phone up to my face again I smiled gently and said, “..nothing is wrong.  The girls are knocked out on the couch. They look so cute. Damn, I wish they were up right now.”

Andre and I talked for a wholesome twenty-five minutes. The downside to this call is that I didn’t get to say ‘I love you too’ before the call dropped. The act triggered me and sent me into a frenzy. Lucky for me, my mom, dad, Dani and Matt came over. Not only to help me with the girls but also to help with the move. 

Going to get the girls up and ready I attempted to get Zoe up first since she’s the lightest sleeper of us all. 

“Levántate ya sweet pea, we have to move today.” Kissing her hairline I turned her over as she began to wake up. 

“Mom, you talk to daddy? Yes?” She spit out without hesitation. 

“Yes I talked to him. He loves you and he can’t wait to see you and your sister. Did you have a good nap mi amor?” Wiping the drool off of her cheek I moved over to Kenja knowing this would be a tad more difficult. “Come on nena, levántate ya por favor.”

Kenja began to squirm and ultimately frowned at me once she had her eyes fully opened up. “Eres muy ruidoso, mom!” She exclaimed. 

“Cuidado, Evelyn. We don’t have time for this now, get up and get moving. Ahora.” Following behind and guiding them to their rooms, I got them ready together. By the time I finished with the girls the trucks had arrived. I traded places with my mom so she could get the girls into her car while I stand aside to supervise everything. 

——— ———

“Urgh my goodness, my body hurts so much. This poor baby has been going at my back relentlessly for hours.” Working through the knot in my lower back I ran my free hand across my belly. 

My mom stopped fanning herself to stare at me. 

 “Ay! Que estás mirando?” 

“You’re acknowledging my grandchild again. Some days I fear you have evil thoughts about this bundle of joy because Andre is not present. I see the way you look at yourself in the mirror and ay bendito it makes me so sad. But this is your baby and your body. I just don’t want you to forget, usted tiene ayuda Camila.” 

My mom prayed over the baby and I, and quietly exited the room. “Tienen hambre nenas?” She joyously sang. 

Rising from the bed I walked to the window, drawing the shades up. The view from this floor is breathtaking. I haven’t seen this type of view in a while. Watching the city below seems slowed down and so far away. 

“You’d love this place..” I whispered aloud. Gliding both palms over my belly I thought about our last visitation. I dreamt of the last night Andre romanced me and ultimately impregnated me. This baby is so much more special than I gave him or her credit for. My fears and anxiety have pushed me too far. Our child is a blessing through the turmoil. I need this baby as a symbol for hope and love. 

This bundle of joy and innocence deserves some attention and care. I could never imagine allowing Andre to discover the evil thoughts I’ve dreamt up like my mom mentioned. 

“I love you so much and I’m so sorry for not treating you better. This is a very difficult time for our familia pero it’s no excuse for my love..” looking down at my baby bump I smiled at the sight of my bare skin housing my unborn baby. “I’ll get myself together and take care of you the way you deserve. Con amor y respeto.” 

“Mommy, Papi is calling! Come on!” Kenja and Zoe yelled, blending their voices together. 

Hurrying out of the room I leveled out my tank top and threw my hands up. “Nenas, we can’t be as loud as we used to be at the house okay? This place is much smaller and we have neighbors close by.” I informed them. 

“Okay, we’re sorry. Talk to daddy.” Zoe shoved the phone to my ear where I could hear Andre speaking but to someone else. 

“Andre?” 

“I’m here baby. Listen I’m so sorry for the noise but these n diggas won’t leave me the fuck alone. How are you? How was the move?” He quizzed. 

“It went good. I’m more exhausted now than I was earlier but I can’t complain about much else. I love you papa but I want you to talk to the girls since you weren’t able to earlier.” I listened to his return of adoration and affection, handing my phone back to the girls. “Ma, you’re more than welcome to stay.” I said, meeting her in the kitchen. 

She smirks and giggles knowing damn well I need her to stay with us tonight. “You can count on that. What are we cooking?” 

Rubbing my belly again just to hear my mother laugh I laid out all of my plans for dinner and dessert. Our first night in this condo will be an adjustment as will the remainder of our time here. 

Mom and I watched the girls load up on two full portions of dinner, still crying for more. After our familial debate my mom volunteered to bathe the kids while I put the remainder of the food away and cleaned the kitchen. 

“Nana, can you stay and help mom? She won’t rest. And she’s super tired.” I heard Zoe say over the sound of Kenja laughing and splashing around in the tub. 

Quietly I set the pots and pans down to hone in on their little talk. Wiping my hands dry, I inched closer to the doorway of their bedroom. 

“Of course I will nena. I’m here to help mommy and you girls as long as I need to. That’s what I’m here for.” My mom said, smiling through her words I can tell. 

“I miss daddy..” Kenja settled down and finally spoke up. My heart split down the middle at her confession. Her speaking on her father’s absence sounds different then the other ‘i miss him’ confessions. 

“Yo sé mamita. I miss him también y I know mom does too. Your dad being gone is difficult on us all. And I’m sure that you girls have questions about why he’s gone and when he will be home..si?” The hope and serenity in my moms voice gives me hope that this tough time will get easier. Or at least we will all come to terms with Andre being away and make the best out of our unfortunate situation. 

“Yes.” The girls said together. “When will he come home? He has to care for mommy and baby brother before it’s too late!” Kenja exclaimed. 

“Ay, tranquila Evelyn. It’s late and that’s no way to speak to tu abuelita. I know and mom knows how much you girls miss your dad. We have to be patient and stay positive. I need you both to be supportive of your mom and tu papa. Don’t give mom a hard time ok? Take it easy on her. With your baby brother or sister still baking, your mom needs you both to take care of her. Come on, let’s get dressed for bed now.” 

Leaning back against the wall I looked around our temporary living quarters in amazement. I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be stepping back into the shoes of being a solo parent. I have this urge to cry but I feel selfish for even wanting to. Deciding against being emotional I forced my way back to the dishes to finish up here for the night. 

Once I had my own bath taken and I got dressed for bed I stretched out. The echoes of silence in this room and the loneliness of laying in bed alone is still foreign. I hope I don’t get used to this but I’m afraid I may have to. Turning over to face away from the window I snuggled the body pillow covered by Andre’s favorite sweatshirt. 

I miss the tips of his fingers massaging my scalp. I miss his natural body heat to keep me warm throughout the night. I miss the combination of his soap and the girls knocking me into a blissful sleep. I close my eyes to reminisce on the sound of him speaking softly into my ear about his innermost thoughts. A slight grin bestowed upon my face pretending to feel his lips on my skin, melting me to the core. 

“I pray that you’re alright my love. And I pray that you miss me nearly as much as I miss you.” I muttered to myself. Clutching the pillow a bit tighter I tuned out the rainfall and the scary images in mind to dream of our reunion. 

[cupofcowboys]

Campfire Confession - Charles Smith/Fem-Reader (Not-SFW)

TAGS: Spoiler Free, Fem-Reader, Not-SFW, first time, loss of virginity, romantic, fingering, confessions, alcohol, fluff

Charles listens to your humorous campfire tale, and it leads him to an incredible revelation…

4,312 words

Read on AO3

-♥-

A series of happy fortunes had the gang in high spirits. As a result, a small party had taken off. You were fairly certain it was Uncle who’d started it, but you weren’t about to point fingers or complain. The night had been a pleasant and comfortable one. No fights, arguments, or drama. Just the gang at their finest.

But time marched onwards, and it soon became the tail-end of the party. Most had gone to bed, save for Javier, who was still playing, and other stragglers such as Arthur and Pearson. The remnants were all about the campfire, with you and Charles sat a few feet away on the grass.

Charles had his back pressed against a tree, his legs stretched forward in front of him and a bottle of wine in his hand. You were sat across from him, your legs curled sideways and your fingers occupied with braiding blades of grass.

You’d had sat together for hours now, slowly draining the shared bottle together. It was an expensive brand you’d lifted out of a manor a few days ago and saved for a special occasion. It was only natural you’d share it with Charles. He was your closest friend after all.

He brought the bottle up to his lips as Javier’s song drew to an end. Silence fell for several minutes as he stretched his hands and took a drink. You glanced up over at the fire as Pearson stood up and excused himself for the night.

“You never finished your story.” Charles pointed out, leaning forward to place the bottle in front of you.

“Oh, right!” you smirked and took a quick gulp. “Where was I…”

“The creek.”

“Ahh.. yes.” you giggled, “When we got there it started rainin’ hard, but it had been a good half-hours ride and we didn’t want to have wasted it. So, we ride up to this old house up the way.”

You loved telling this story. It was a good tale from your younger, more innocent days. Almost everyone in camp had to know it by now. But Charles was newer, quieter, and serious. Tales of your childhood antics rarely came up in conversation with him.

“Real nasty old place, holes in the walls and rats’ nests. But it was shelter. When we got there though, it looked… lived in.”

“Lived in?”

“Yep. Holes were sorta patched up, old campfire outside and when we went in, there was bedding. But no sign of anyone. Must’ve been gone for a few days ‘cause the rats were back.”

“How mysterious.” Charles grinned and pressed his head back against the tree.

“Very.” you agreed, “Jack got scared. Said we should go home, but I wasn’t hearin’ it. Told him if someone showed up we’d just explain. So, we ended up stayin’ anyways.”

“We’re poking around when we find some bottles of shine. Course, we didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t stop us tryin’ it. From the first mouthful, I swear we were drunk. It was so strong.”

“You drank out of random bottles?” Your singular audience snapped out of his listening to give you a surprised and slightly judgemental look.

“Well…” you rubbed your face awkwardly. “We were young.”

“You are lucky.”

“Stop ruining my story, Charles.” You chastised, wagging your finger. “It all worked out just fine.”

“Sorry.” he chuckled. “Continue.”

“At first we’re nervous and scared. Never drank anythin’ like that before. But curiosity got the better of us. ‘Fore we knew it we was piss drunk. Couldn’t get up if we had wanted to.”

“Then, Jack looks at me like he ain’t never seen a woman before. His eyes light up and he’s struggling onto his knees, all excited. I’m laughin’ at him ‘cause he looks like a ripe idiot til he says he loves me and wants to prove it.”

“Wait, what?” Charles snapped his eyes open and stared at you.

“Yup.” You nodded and grinned, “So, us drunken idiots start foolin’ around. It’s as elegant as you can imagine. But just as he’s tryin’ to put it in me… the door swings open.”

Charles, already gaping at you, looked positively astonished. You could tell he hadn’t expected your story to be this at all. The effect made you grin with satisfaction.

“Both of us turn in horror and find our faces mirrored. ‘Cept it’s none other than the priest and the baker’s wife.” You started laughing now, picturing their faces in your head. “Turns out, they was having an affair and using the old place for it. Was one hell of an awkward conversation!”

“I bet it was…”

“They couldn’t take us home like that so they had us sleep it off.” Your laughter died off as you took a gulp of wine, frowning slightly. “Jack got weird after that… and then it weren’t long til I ended up in this life.”

“Did you end up sleeping with him?” Charles asked, his voice and features set, unreadable.

You could feel his eyes on you as you fumbled. You hadn’t actually slept with anyone. From that day until now you hadn’t engaged with a man. It wasn’t for a lack of willing participants; you had just never sought the opportunity. Perhaps it was your upbringing or a matter of pride. Or maybe it was just one of those things.

“Uh, no.” you admitted, swallowing. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

An awkward silence fell between you as he stared. You brought the wine to your lips several times just for something to do.

“You…” Charles faltered. He wasn’t sure what to say. “You’ve never had sex?”

Heat burned in your face at his bluntness. Wording it that way made it seem a much bigger deal. Embarrassment wasn’t quite the word for what you were experiencing.

“Th-that’s what I said.” you gazed down at the grass in your hands. “I suppose I’ve waited?”

“Well…” His eyes fixed on you. “There’s no shame in that.”

His words made you look over at him. It wasn’t the first intimate conversation you had shared; you both knew each other well, but this was different. A vulnerability you were unaware you had. Even in your reasonably intoxicated state, you appreciated his kindness and respect. Any other gang member would tease you relentlessly.

“Have… you?” You enquired tentatively.

“Yes. A few times.”

“Is… Do you like it?”

“Usually.”

You laughed and Charles joined in. The tense air faded away and you set the bottle aside. An odd sensation prickled in your stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant as much as it tickled. Perhaps it was the drink. You shuffled closer to Charles until you were beside him by the tree. Javier was still by the fire, but he was no longer playing. Everyone else had vanished and so he was taking the time to tune his instrument. Your mind wandered as you watched him quietly. It was long past your usual sleep time, yet you didn’t feel tired. Instead, you felt unusually alert and coherent.

You turned your head back to Charles, only to find him peering at you. Meeting his intense look, you swallowed nervously. You weren’t sure why he was looking at you that way. It made you self-conscious. After a moment, your hands nervously pushed a loose lock behind your ear, breaking your eye contact. However, this was brief.

His warm, strong hand slowly reached for your jaw. He gave you ample time to question him or pull away, but you didn’t. His fingers slid towards your hairline as he leaned slowly in, angling your chin as he did. Your eyes slid shut automatically and his lips met yours.

It was a short and chaste kiss. His lips were warm and soft against yours. He pulled away to look into your eyes and you understood why.

For a man with such an intimidating presence, he was kind-hearted at his core. You knew he wanted you to want him. He wanted you to know you could refuse. He wanted to do it right.

You leaned forward and reconnected with him, and this time he didn’t pull away. His lips moved against yours, gently and passionately. You could tell he was experienced. You followed his lead as best as you could. The hand that wasn’t on your jaw found its way to your shoulder as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. With a muted sigh,, you parted your lips, and he entered your mouth. He tasted of wine and something intangible, unique to him. His tongue danced with yours slowly and intimately.

All your shyness melted away as the kiss continued. Your hand pressed against his chest as your other gripped his shoulder. Sounds you had never made before met your ears, and they would have embarrassed you if they hadn’t encouraged him. His hand moved to your hair, drawing your lips harder against his. Heat pooled between your thighs.

All too quickly, he drew away from you for air. Both of you sat breathless, staring desperately at each other, before he crashed his lips against yours once more. The kiss grew ever fiercer as you explored each other. Your hands slid over his broad shoulders, muscled arms and wide chest, while his slid over you in kind.

Kissing Charles was something you hadn’t realised you wanted. His friendship was invaluable to you, always there when you needed him, but you never thought of him this way. Now you were here though, you let your feelings lose. You regularly admired him for being handsome, strong and kind. Even as his passions got the better of him, he was gentle. Your heart pounded with excitement… and something more.

“Charles..!” you gasped as you broke apart.

“(y/n)…” he breathed, cupping your face and looking into your eyes. “Do you like this?”

“I love it…”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“Come with me.”

He stood up, taking your hand into his and helping you up. Looking around, he saw that Javier had gone. The camp was eerily still and silent. He hurried over to the fire and picked up a spare bedroll from there. Then still holding your hand, he led you out into the trees. Your heart was hammering in your chest. The heat Charles had cultivated in you seemed to fade as he took you deeper into the dark. Anxiety plucked at your mind with the knowledge of what is going to happen. You trusted Charles wholeheartedly. He had never given you a reason to fear him. Even now, he was gentle and compassionate. Yet you were afraid. Did you want to give yourself up? What if it hurt? What if something went wrong?

Reaching a clearing a decent way off from camp, Charles dropped the bedroll onto the ground. He let go of you to flatten it out properly. Then he turned and saw the look on your face.

“You changed your mind.”

“No!” you shook your head. “It’s… not that.”

“Then what is it?” his voice was kind as he moved closer, taking both of your hands in his.

“I’m…” you hesitated. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, (y/n)…” he sighed softly, “I would never hurt you. If you don’t want to… if you’re not ready I-”

“I do want to.�� you took a deep, steadying breath. “I trust you. I… I want it to be you, Charles.”

For a long moment he stared into your eyes, searching for any shred of doubt or concern. Then he kissed you more softly and tenderly than he ever had. All your fears and anxieties washed away. You wanted Charles. Wanted him as you had never dared hope for. You slid your arms around his back, moving your lips lovingly against his.

As your lips worked together, he started to undress you. His fingers working away the buttons of your shirt, breaking the kiss once your collar was bared to him. He trailed kisses from your lips and down your neck, giving you only the slightest of nips. As he reached your collarbones, he kissed them and raised his head to whisper;

“You’re beautiful.”

His words drew heat to your face. No one had ever spoken to you like this. Your eyes met his in the half-light as he smiled warmly. Following your rush of affection, you caught his face in your hands and pulled him into another kiss. This time, however, you weren’t shy. You ran your hands along his shoulders and then down his chest, feeling at the muscles you didn’t know he had, until you reached the hem of his shirt.

You hesitated, your fingers lingering at his belt. Charles took your hand in his and slipped it under the fabric, your fingertips pressing on his hot, bare skin. He released you as a jolt of passion coursed through your veins as you ran your hand along his abs.

His skin was soft, hairless, and nicked with scars. Each contour you met, you traced curiously, wanting to commit every one to memory. If this was your only time with him, you wanted to make it count. He sighed appreciatively against your mouth. You wondered how long it had been since a lover had touched him.

After feeling him for some time, you withdrew your hand, only to tug lightly on his shirt hem, encouraging him to remove it. Charles complied at once, pulling it over his head in a fluid movement and tossing it aside. A gasp slipped from you at the sight of him bared. The moonlight catching him in all the right places. You couldn’t help but stare in admiration.

“You too.” He whispered, moving to continue unbuttoning your shirt.

You let him and in no time at all, your shirt was dropped onto his, leaving you in your corset and chemise. Slowly, you moved together in unison to reconnect your lips.

A pair of large hands found your waist and slowly slid upwards, feeling your silhouette. Finally, one of them found the lace of your corset working smoothly to loosen it. You abandoned his mouth to trail kisses along his shoulders and chest, giving him time to focus on undressing you. Once it felt loose enough, he unbuttoned the front and threw it away. The loss of pressure and structure made you sigh with relief. You pulled your chemise over your head, and it joined the growing pile on the ground.

The two of you pulled apart and looked at each other, half-bared for the first time. His keen eyes taking you in made you both embarrassed and delighted.

“Wow… (y/n)…” His voice was quiet, dripping with admiration. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you…” You breathed back.

Your fingers found his bared chest, this time you could watch their path as they traced. His large hands found your waist again, sliding them along your skin and tracing small circles with his thumbs. So, this is how it feels to be loved. To be cherished. To be adored.

He carved a path upwards to the curve of your breasts, pausing for a tantalising moment before his hands encapsulated them.

His powerful hands were tender and tentative as he softly squeezed and fondled them. You sighed at the sensation, and his dark eyes met yours. The sight of his desire and affection for you stole your breath away. A thumb found your hardened nipple and traced a slow, steady circle over it. Heat burned in your face as a delighted sound slipped from you. “I want to hear.” Charles soothed, pulling you flush against him, his palm in the small of your back. “Please.”

You nodded, and he continued to rub his thumb over you. Each touch added fuel to the fire growing in your core and your vocalisations told him so. Your eyes never separated, his full of heat and curiosity, yours shy and hungry.

After his ministrations turned to your other breast, he started to remove your skirts. With your help, they were soon abandoned, and he released you to undress himself. Together you moved onto the bedroll, laid side by side in your underwear. You could see the sizable tent he was pitching, and it sent a surge of desire down your spine. But his sweet hand grazed your stomach, drawing your gaze back to his face. His full lips were parted and his eyes loving. You swallowed at the sight, your heart fluttering. You hoped he meant it.

“Let me prepare you.” His request was punctuated by his fingers plucking at the waist of your bloomers.

“H-How..?”

“My fingers…”

You blushed hard, eyes rushing to stare at the hand on your stomach. His were long, thick, and calloused from bowstrings, triggers and reins… but they had only been compassionate with you. “O-Ok…” You assented with a shy nod.

Leaning in to kiss you, his hand slid into your bloomers as his tongue pressed into your mouth. It felt sharp and unusual to have another’s presence in your underwear, but his tongue distracted you. He dipped a digit against your soaked slit, wetting it before bringing it across your clit. The sensation made you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by pleasure and unfamiliarity. Charles paused briefly before continuing to rub in a slow, careful circle.

Each stroke of his finger made you sigh and gasp under him, making him pull away from the kiss so he could enjoy each one. As you lost yourself to pleasure, you became acutely aware of his presence. His comparative size to you in both height and mass, the warmth of his skin and his hitched breathing. All of it made you crave him all the more.

Once he had worked you up enough, a digit pushed against your entrance. Your eyes snapped open and sought his gaze. He gave you a reassuring smile. Relaxing, you reached your arm out to grip his shoulder. Thrusting his finger softly against your tightness, he began to ease inwards, prying you apart.

Your teeth sucked your bottom lip into your mouth. It didn’t hurt, but it certainly felt strange, uncomfortable. Charles kissed your forehead, cheek and neck, distracting you from the unusual sensation. Your grip tightened on his shoulder as he sank ever deeper into you. “You’re so tight…” He muttered against your skin.

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes again, urging yourself to relax. Even this small part of him felt filling, but you knew it was only a fraction of what was to come. As he pressed into you, he would shift his finger backwards and forwards, each forward motion deeper than before. You could feel his eyes watching you acutely, hunting for any discomfort or dislike. Once you could take all of him, he started to pick up the pace. Each time his finger bottomed out, his palm would rub against your clit, making you cry out into his ear.

Before long, you could take his finger with minimal resistance. He curled and twisted it, giving you pleasure you had never imagined. Just as your stomach started to clench, he withdrew. You were about to complain when a pair of digits pressed against you. His fingers pried you apart anew, struggling to slide into you again. He bent his head to capture your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as his fingers pushed into you. The sensation of them filling you made you grip the bedroll tightly. His tongue continued to pleasure your chest as his fingers spread you, his thumb rubbing your clit and his covered cock rubbing against your thigh. Your pleasured sighs, gasps and moans echoed around the trees, but you were deaf to your own sounds, lost in pleasure.

It was only after you had taken a third finger he finally withdrew them. He paused briefly to admire his soaked fingers, giving you a huge, satisfied grin that made you blush.

“You’re ready.” He explained, shifting to sit between your legs.

“A-Are you sure?” You asked, feeling vulnerable at the sight of him towering before you.

“I’m certain.”

Taking the waistband of your bloomers in his hands, he slipped them off you and tossed them aside. Then he removed his own, revealing his hard shaft to you for the first time. It was considerably larger and thicker than you had expected. You were sure most men weren’t that size. You bit your lip anxiously at the sight of him.

Spotting the look on your face he smiled, half apologetic, half proud.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be as gentle as I can.” He soothed, bending down over you, giving you the millionth kiss of the night. “I promise.”

“I know…” You returned his smile.

He stayed over you, one hand pressed into the fabric beside your head, the other reaching between his thighs to grip himself. He guided his tip against your slit, rubbing it between them, slicking himself with your juices. Once he was adequately coated, and you had relaxed, he pressed against your entrance.

Biting your lip, you grabbed his shoulders for support. He was so big you were certain he would never fit. Even with all the prep, your core pulsed with discomfort and rejection. Charles gave a harsh gasp of pleasure and you could practically feel him fighting his instincts. He sat backwards, his thumb moving to rub your clit desperately, urging you to relax. As he did, he rocked his hips slowly, attempting to pry your walls apart for him.

All you could do was groan and give yourself over to the sensation. A little more and he’d be deep inside you. Claiming your first time. And who knew how many more times. Now you’d had a taste; you never wanted him to stop.

Then his tip finally pushed inside you. A sharp cry of half pain, half pleasure reverberated through the trees, joined by a hiss from Charles. You shuddered, trying to get over the sensation, tears pricking your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Charles apologised, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“It’s… It’s okay…” You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

That was until his fingers turned your chin to him. His dark eyes were kind and loving, showing you he meant it. You relaxed at the sight and gave him a reassuring smile.

The initial burn having faded, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Your fingers gripped the bedroll, gasping sharply as he pried you apart. Charles continued to give small, shallow thrusts, lowering himself over you so you were face to face.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes as he rocked against you. “I’m sorry if it hurts.” He consoled, kissing your cheek.

You shook your head, too focused on his cock to speak. Although it hurt, it was quickly being overtaken by pleasure. You were sure once he reached your limit it would be all right. It took a torturously long time for him to do it. Even he was having trouble maintaining. Calm, patient Charles burning to lose himself on you. To let go of all his morals and composure to ruin you. The thought made your insides twitch on his cock, earning you a delighted groan.

Finally, he reached what he was waiting for. He sighed into your ear, praising you for your patience. You moaned delightedly, tangling your fingers in his hair.

He gave you time to get used to his presence. He stretched you out to your maximum, making you feel so full you could hardly stand it. Digging your nails into his shoulders, you finally found your words. “Please, Charles… go.”

He didn’t need telling twice. With a sigh, his hips rocked against yours. It was a slow and testing, checking you were ready. Your explicit moan of gratitude and pleasure was all the answer he needed. Shifting his position, he started to thrust into you at a steady pace. Your walls gripped him tight as a vice as he slipped in and out of you, his girth letting him hit all your pleasure spots with ease. You held onto his shoulders, gazing into his eyes. Capturing you into a kiss, he lowered onto you, crushing you between his chest and the ground. His fingers interlocked with yours as he took you, kissing you passionately.

His pace picked up gradually gained speed until his thighs slapped against yours audibly. Your combined groans, sighs and expletions of pleasure filled the silence of the forest, making certain anyone within earshot knew what was happening. All you cared about was Charles. The way he felt inside of you, on top of you, how he tasted. Your hips bucked up against his, earning a groan from the man.

“I love you.” You sighed when the kiss broke for air.

His eyes lit up with surprise at your confession. If your face wasn’t already scarlet from exertion, you would have turned so. Your heart skipped a beat with fear and anxiety.

“I love you, too.” He whispered back, catching you in a mind blowing, passionate kiss. His tongue dancing with yours as though his life depended on it.

His thrusts grew erratic and intense, almost painful with their force. His kiss muffled your squeal of delight and shock. Your stomach gave a harsh lurch and release, and you felt yourself coming on his cock. The sensation of your squeezing and flexing around him drove him over the edge. His grip on your hands became crushing as he broke the kiss, groaning loudly against your ear as he filled you. He kept pumping inside of you, riding out your orgasms together.

Finally, he let out a sigh of relief and panted heavily. Staring down at you doing the same he grinned. The sight warmed your heart.

“I really do love you.” You reiterated.

“And I really love you, too.”

-♥-

My Masterlist

AO3

[horrible-on-main]

He picks up the pen with apprehension. He knows, somehow, before he tries, that this is something he cannot do. Something that has been taken from him. Grief is deep and hollow and nauseating. So many long hours spent writing for a living, drawing freehand with easy certainty, taking pride in how the neat letters flowed, having fun with the flourishes and the ornaments.... So many hand-written letters composed to friends sectors away, pen to parchment to produce something for the astropaths to transmit, his lifeline to socialisation during the long, lonely months at Warp...

Memory fills his eyes with tears. He avoided this while sent out on mission, in the illusion of freedom. Almost without letting himself think about it, he stuck to dataslate and dictation. At first they were amongst the poor who couldn’t write at all, and then they had enough prestige that he could have a minion do it, or requisition a scribe-skull, or otherwise not have to think about it.

But now he has to face it.

Just holding the pen is tricky. Anxiety conspires to worsen the tremor in his hands. The tip jitters almost comedically. It seems implausible that such violent motions could be anything but deliberate. And ridiculous that he should try and write with an implement that jumps in his hand so. But he was too afraid to tell her that he couldn’t. And now she is gone, and he can imagine the consequences of not doing the work he has been set.

Predictably, the first touch of nib to paper leaves a juddering line almost an inch long. He lifts the pen in a hurry, wincing. But he’s going to have to get used to this being a messy process. How humiliating. Tears continue to track down his cheeks. He ignores them, and tries again. Just trying to keep the pen still against the page, he draws a sprawling inelegant spider of a scribble as he relearns how to make his fingers apply the right pressure.

In his mind’s eye, she looks at the mess he has made of the page and tsks her tongue and takes his hand and hurts him and - no, no, focus. He has to focus. He can’t help but make a mess of this, the best he can hope for is to get some work done as well. So he tries to swallow back sobs and devotes the top of the page to practice - “straight” lines first, then clumsy letter forms. His writing is worse than a child’s. An illegible, distorted, jittery mess. Still, the thought of her coming back to find that he has not even tried... He practices until he feels that he has the measure of his extensive limitations. And then he gets to work.

He has to rework almost every letter to make it legible. And as often as not the corrections make things worse rather than better. Only one word in perhaps five does not end as a crossed-out mess. He can’t stop crying, knowing that this is unacceptable but unable to do better.

Within an hour, his hand is aching. Within two, it is cramping badly enough that he has to stop every few words to force the screaming muscles back into compliance. He tries writing with his left instead, but it’s even worse. He can’t form anything that looks even remotely like a letter. He tries writing with the pen gripped in a fist. With both hands locked together. Even, in a fit of desperation, with it in his teeth. He cycles between clumsy methods, getting an appalling line or two down with each before it becomes untenable. His fingers spasm for minutes at a time while he tries to force them to hold the pen to no avail.

He fills two pages with a bare handful of comprehensible words each. On the third, he runs out of space before he has managed to write a single word successfully. Despair wins out over fear and he puts his head down on the table and sobs. It’s just for a little while, he tells himself. Just to give his hands a chance to recover before he starts over. He isn’t giving up, isn’t slacking off. It’s just for a few minutes.

The door opens and he squeaks with fear, jumping half out of his skin. He freezes up - a shaking, sobbing wreck, terrified of the punishment he is sure is incoming. Too paralysed even to get on his knees like he suspects he should.

She walks over to inspect the mess that he has made with critical eyes. Her frown sets him crying harder, hiding his face. “Eyes up,” she reminds him, so he unwillingly watches her look over the paper he has ruined in his futile attempts at writing.

She doesn’t ask him for his hands, but just picks his right up by the wrist. He offers no resistance. She inspects the shaking, ink-stained fingers, then runs her free hand over the cramping muscles of his forearm. He wants to beg for mercy, but he remembers acutely the lessons in Don’t speak until spoken to. It’s almost like his time outside never existed, like he never left.

“You’ve spent a long time on this,” she remarks. There’s something unexpected in her voice, something unfamiliar. Distraught as he is, he can’t start to decipher it. But he dares to hope it might be good for him. “Yes Interrogator.” “You aren’t getting anywhere.” “No Interrogator.” His head dips in shame, but he remembers to keep his eyes on hers. “But you kept trying.” “Yes Interrogator. I... I wasn’t s-stopping,” he half-lies, “I was just w-waiting for my f-fingers to s-stop twitching so I c-c-could try ag-gain...” Her fingers are digging into the pained muscles. It hurts, but it’s also a profoundly good kind of pain. He can feel the cramps easing slowly under her touch. “Good,” she says. His heart leaps. “Well done. Stay there. Put your head down, sleep if you want.”

He is grateful. Too sore and too miserable to sleep, even once she leaves. But grateful. And even more so when a guard comes to swap the writing supplies for a dataslate. He can use one of those. A little clumsily, but he can do it. He’s almost eager to get back to work.

[jadeender]

The Fortress of Darkness and Light Part 1

The next morning the heroes awoke and prepared for the final battle, Legend assured them they could reach Veran’s fortress before the day was over and they revealed in the idea that in only a matter of hours they would be free. Free from the influence of the darks and finally back to their own selves. 

With all their weapons and armor at the ready, magical tools on hand the ten of them set out from Legend’s house. The purple rabbit man, Ravio, had insisted on following them, claiming to worry about Legend’s safety. 

Sighing Sky walked alongside his friends, he should have felt happy to almost be rid of Stygian, but he didn’t. If he was honest he hadn’t felt much at all recently. Stygian kept quiet most of the time which was almost worse than talking constantly. 

The day passed in a haze, everyone was on edge legend and Ravio led the group reassuring every once and awhile they were getting close. Despite being “good friends” Sky never really saw Ravio and Legend act like it. Both of them kept their attention on other things and rarely spoke to each other while they were traveling. 

Sky just wanted it all to be done, he wanted to rest. It had been so long since he’d had a refreshing deep sleep, since he dreamed instead of having cryptid nightmares that only filled him anxiety and stress.

Just after their noon time lunch break Legend turned to address them, his skin had become more ashen recently and the green highlights in his hair more pronounced. 

“In just about ten minutes of walking Veran’s fortress should be in sight. Once we get in we just have to make it to the top and take her out. The usual stuff. I don’t know what kind of traps she’ll have set up so be ready for anything.” With the Legend turned around and lead them on.

Surely enough very soon the fortress appeared in their vision, it appeared like a twisted imitation of Hyrule castle. Colored all dark great a shadow was cast over the land, as they continued on the draw bridge opened and Veran’s voice drifted out over the wind,

“Heroes of light, creatures of dark, and those in between. You seek to be free yet first you must pass through my fortress, trials of dark and trials of light await you. Only if you embrace both will you succeed.” 

As Veran’s voice faded so did the light around them and the heroes slipped into unconsciousness. 

____________________________________________________________________________

When Sky awoke again it was like his head was full of dense clouds that made his thoughts fuzzy and slow. Looking around he saw only Legend, Four, Wild, and Twilight. The others were gone. A quick survey showed they were in a small room with a corridor leading outward. 

“She split us up.” Legend observed looking at his friends before registering, “Wait where’s Ravio?”

“He’s probably with the others.” Twi comforted as Sky moved to sitting still trying to clear his head, all their words felt muffled and distant. 

“That means he’s alone with Eternal, and Conqueror, and Callous.” Legend’s breath speed up slightly, looking on the edge of panic. “We need to find them.”

Four grabbed Legend’s hand and signed something Sky couldn’t see. As Twilight continued, “No, that means he’s there with Time, and Warriors and Hyrule. They wouldn’t let the darks hurt him.”

Legend mumbled something Sky couldn’t hear, his ears finally beginning to clear he heard Wild speak up. “We need to get moving, I’m sure we’ll meet up with others if we just go through. 

The others nodded and gathered their things. Sky stood noticing his second sword had slipped out of its scabbard, the sword he loathed to use but found himself carrying most often. Fi still wouldn't respond, not so much as a word or even a feeling in months, it was almost easier to use the demon sword rather than have to deal with that silence.

Sighing lightly he put his swords back in their scabbard as the ghostly image of his old enemy appeared by him, not that the others could see.

"Finally we made it to the stupid palace, I can't wait to be free of this stupid light." Griahim complained as he often did. 

Sky just ignored the sword spirit as he started to follow the others. Ghirahim continued to complain as they went, complaining that he hadn't taken care of the blade or complaining about the temple and it's garish design.

As they ended the hall it opened into a wide room with black and white tiles if the floor, as Wild who was in the lead stepped in the first tile it made a sound like a note played on the piano. 

“What the…?” Wild started.

Veran’s melodious voice floated over them once again “Each of you must play along to the song of the tiles, for if you dont death will befall on these trials.”

The five looked at each other, before Sky spoke up. “I think we need to play music, as we walk across.”

From his bag Sky drew his Zelda’s harp, the small golden harp reminded him of her. A heavy weight settled in his heart as somewhere in the pits of their soul he felt Stygain’s repulse for her. Sky still loved her, more than he had ever loved anyone before, but using her harp felt wrong in his hands.

Trying to push that feeling of disgust away he strummed the harp lightly its golden tones still melodious as they always had been. Four and Legend turned to their bags and dug through them, Four producing a simple ocarina and Legend producing a harp, quite different from Zelda’s. Legend’s harp was pink and blue in a circle, with golden features. As he strummed it the others could feel the power that came from it, this was not just an instrument.

Wild and Twilight just kind of stood there awkwardly and Four turned to them signing “You music play?”

“Well um I do have one thing I could try, I’m not very good with it.” With a few taps of the Sheikah slate wild pulled out an accordion. He squeezed the instrument a few times tapping the keys on the side in a familiar melody though Sky couldn’t recall its name. Legend nodded and they turned back to Twilight who shifted nervously.

“Do you not play any instrument?” Legend questioned. “I've got a spare few in my bag….”

“I um, I usually howl.” Twilight muttered. The others attention snapped back to him. 

“You what?” Legend laughed.

“I howl, I can whistle too but not without a piece of grass.” Twi said his face becoming more assured. 

“It’ll be fine Twilight.” Wild said looking at the others, he shifted his accordion and turned back around to face the room.

Sky watched as Twilight shifted into his wolf form and let out a howl, deep and full. The others played their instruments along with it, the sounds of their odd five piece band mingling together.

Sky strummed the harp as they made their way through the room, each new tile would make a note and they would respond by playing the same or accompanying ones, as they hurried over the floor it grew into a song of sorts each note helping to create the symphony. As Sky played the feeling of the harp in his hands made him warm, glad that he had this piece of her with him.

As they reached the final tile of them room it sounded with a deep tone like that of a church bell striking, though they tried to recreate it only Twilight’s howls came anywhere close to it. Though he should have felt panicked Sky didn’t, he felt calm, calmer than he had in awhile but Zelda’s harp always had that effect on him. Instead Sky just briskly walked forward off the tile into the safety of the hallway as the tile began to crack and shake. The others quickly followed running and in some cases jumping off to make it into the hallway. 

After putting away their instruments the other turned to Sky.

“How did you know that would work?” Twilight questioned. “There could have been some other trap or trick.” 

Sky simply shrugged, “It was the last tile, it was the simplest path.”

After a few more odd glances the others continued on ward as they started through the maze of Veran’s castle, they honestly did more getting lost than they did solving puzzles or setting off traps.

But as they continued Sky kept thinking about that puzzle, about the song they played, once he put it together it seemed familiar, like something Zelda would have played for him when they were younger. An image of her playing the harp, her hands moving lightly over is strings, golden hair gleaming in the sun appeared in his mind conjuring up a small smile on his face.

Could have this witch designed the puzzle, for him? To remind him of his Zelda? Sky’s thoughts wondered at the possibility, but why would she have done that? As he followed that line of reasoning Sky thoughts turned, she was using Zelda’s song to mock him. To use something he loved against him.

The dark part of his mind, the voice and emotions he’d come to associate with Stygian spoke. “You let your pathetic obsession with her make you a fool, even before this witch stepped in.”

“Its not an obsession, I love her.” He defended yet the voice rose again.

“And that makes you all the weaker, thinking yourself worthy of a goddess.” 

Sky’s heart fell as he considered the words, was he really worthy of her and her affection? He spent his entire life learning how to fight to protect her, to be a knight for their home. But for what? For a woman that would never be able to be with him even though they had been reincarnated so many times together. 

The harp now hidden in his pack seemed to grow heavy at his thoughts and he felt a growing repulsion to the instrument. All of that, just to solve a stupid puzzle?

[ventrue-rosary]

A Flower of a Different Colour

A re-upload of this post since its broken on tumblr mobile

Autumn is mine, Kevir belongs to @theravensprince

Ko-Fi

Beepbebebeep!  Beepbebebeep! 

Autumn flings her arm ungracefully out to the alarm obnoxiously intruding upon her morning. Her fingers scrabble for the off-button, leaving her in blessed silence. 

She rolls over with a sigh, her eyes peeking open. The digital clock reads 6:30.

Autumn stretches her sleep-heavy arms and sits up, rubbing at her swollen eyes. As always, she crosses her bedroom to her windowsill, watering her cacti, succulents and pot of creeping ivy climbing up the wall next to her window. She smiles as she gently traces the leaves with her hands. Satisfied with her work, she readies herself for the day. By 7:30 she is out of her apartment, and making her way to work. Though young, she is the proud owner and worker of her own florist shop: A Rose Without Thorns. She opens shop as the sleepy neighbourhood rouses, workers sleepily stumbling to their workplace and parents sheparding their children to school. 

As with most weekdays with no major holidays on the horizon, the morning crawls by, only a few of her regulars coming by for a single flower or pot or just for a chat. As usual, her mother stops by late morning for a bouquet of roses and to drop off some of her favourite snacks.  By lunch time, work crawls by to a complete stop, but it does give her time to perfect the arrangements of the flowers outside, then slowly work her way through the inside of the shop. 

The bell above the door rings. Autumn looks up from her work to see someone a far cry from her usual clientèle.

A purple winged tiefling steps into her establishment; black jeans, black leather jacket and black combat boots that stomp heavily across the wooden floor. Tousled hair perfect frames his angular face, and impossibly dark eyes sweep across the room until they find Autumn. 

She then realises she is still knelt on the floor, openly staring. 

‘Oh--’ She averts her gaze and jumps to her feet, smoothing down the frills of here mini-apron as she hurries behind the counter. 

‘Welcome! Let me know if I can help you with anything.’

‘I’m looking to buy flowers for a pretty girl,’ he says, his voice pleasant and accented. 

‘Oh? How lovely! Do you know what kind of flowers she likes?’ Her shoulder unclench as some of the anxiety drains from her body. If he came to make trouble he likely already would have done so.

‘Not yet. What would you recommend?’

‘Roses are always a safe bet. Red roses, if it's a romantic gesture. You see, different colour roses have different meaning behind them. Pink for friendship, orange for familial bonds, white for purity and spirituality--’ She tapers off with a blush as she beholds his amused smile. ‘Sorry, I’m rambling.’

‘That's alright. I was enjoying listening to you.’

Autumn feel her blush deepen. 

He picks up a large red bouquet. ‘May I ask your name?’ he asks as he hands her the money. 

‘Huh? I-oh. My names Autumn.’

‘Autumn? Fitting. I’m Kevir. Keep the change.’

‘O-ok, thank you.’

He grins at her one last time before he leaves her shop, leaving a very flustered Autumn. 

~

As 5pm rolls around, Autumn begins to close shop, still thinking about her encounter with Kevir. She doesn't like to think of herself as judgemental, but she had thought of him as trouble when he first walked in. How wrong she had been. 

She finds herself wondering about the girl he mentioned. She hopes she appreciated his gift. 

Autumn double checks the doors are locked and turns around--right into Kevir. She squeals in shock, nearly falling right to the ground. 

‘S--sorry!’

‘I didn't mean to scare you. I did call your name a few times, didn't you hear me?’

She notices Kevir still holds the bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

‘Oh, did you want to return them? I’m sorry, you’ll have to return tomorrow--I just closed up.’

‘No, I didn't want to return them--I wanted to give them to you.’ He holds out the flowers to her

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I bought them for you. Take them.’

‘T-thank you?’

He gives her a wink and walks away, eventually heading into the tattoo parlour further down the road. 

When Autumn examines the bouquet in her hands she spots writing on the card:

07113246589

Call me! ; ) 

-Kevir

Autumn makes a noise of disbelief. He couldn't be serious. He isn’t.  Is he? She  shoves the card in her bag before making her way home. 

~

The TV drones on in the background, going unnoticed by Autumn who stares at the roses that have found a home in the vase on her coffee table. She glances at her bag across the sofa. 

She abruptly drags her eyes away, trying to focus on the drama playing on the screen. Trying and failing. 

Autumn snatches her bag and drags it over to her, pushing aside her purse, makeup and the snacks her mother had given her until she finds the small, crumpled card. 

She smoothes it over her thigh as she holds her phone in her other hand. Her finger hesitates over the digits on her screen as doubt begins to cloud her judgement.

‘Oh just do it,’ she hisses at herself

She dials before she changes her mind. Each enduring trill of the ringtone quickens her heartbeat. Then it stops with a click. She holds her breath. 

‘Hello?’

Autumn hangs up with a scream. Her head falls into her palms with a groan. She has basically committed social suicide with this guy. A good-looking seemingly kind man interested in her and she screamed down the phone at him. 

The ringing and vibrating of her phone draws her attention back to her coffee table, Kevir’s number displayed on the screen. 

She watches it ring in silent panic until it stops. She breathes in relief. Then it rings again. She turns off her phone, ending the predicament altogether. She likely had already put him off, what further harm could she do by ghosting him? 

Autumn hugs her knees to her chest, wishing she had the courage to hold a conversation with him. She let's herself fall limp on her side, still clutching her knees. Eventually, sleep finds her. 

Autumn returns to work the following morning, business as usual minus her sullied mood. She is still mad at herself for being an awkward coward. 

Around 2 hours after she opened, Kevir enters. A thousand emotions fly through her at once at their meeting, mostly abstract fear. 

‘O-oh , mood gorn--good morning!’

‘Morning yourself.’ He leans his elbows on the counter, mere inches away from her. ‘Did you, uh, did you call me last night?’

‘H-huh?’ Her voice is a few octaves higher than usual. ‘No, of course not!’ 

‘Oh,’ Kevir deflates. ‘I see.’

‘I--I mean, I wanted to!! I, um, I dropped my phone yesterday. Screen-down, it shattered, totally unusable.’

Kevir doesn't look convinced. Of course he isn’t, she's a terrible liar. 

‘I’m… I’m glad you came to see me today.’ Autumn’s changing of subject is likely very obvious, but at least she is speaking honestly now. 

‘I’m glad to see you.’ His smile is disarming. ‘Say, wanna get lunch together?’

‘Y-yes I would like that.’ She smiles shyly, toying with her hair to avoid looking him in the eye. 

‘Perfect. See you in a few hours.’

Autumn doesn't look up until she hears the bell jingle as he leaves, the smile still stuck on her face. 

She looks up at the clock. Midday can’t come soon enough. 

~

Kevir returns around 12, and Autumn feels her heart flutter as he enters. 

‘Ready?’

‘One moment!’ She pulls on her apron strings, folding it onto the chair behind the counter. She fetches her shoulder bag from the back room and takes a moment to check her reflection. She shakes her bangs and uses her fingers to even them out over her brow, smoothes down her hair and applies just a bit of lip gloss. She only wishes she had worn something a bit more exciting than a white blouse and black mini-skirt. 

‘OK, ready!’

‘Let's go. I know a little place.’

Kevir takes her to a cute cosy cafe a few blocks down, named The Pot and the Kettle. Not many patrons inside, but it means they can snag the cosiest chairs; two impossibly soft, large armchairs close to the fire with a large table between them. Being a rather tepid spring, there is no fire but there is still something comforting about it. 

A cute elven waitress takes their orders. Kevir orders black coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Autumn asks for a white chocolate mocha and matcha pound cake. 

Kevir tilts his head at her order. ‘Sweet tooth?’

‘Very much so! I love sweets, chocolate and baked goods… Oh that must seem childish.’

‘Not at all! Food doesn’t have an age limit. I have a soft spot for them myself.’

The waitress returns with their orders. ‘Let me know if I can get you anything else,’ she says in a husky purr, talking exclusively to Kevir.

‘Thanks,’ Kevir answers, giving her only a cursory, polite look. 

He takes off his leather jacket, revealing his tattoo sleeves. Autumn daintly gasps as she beholds the artwork displayed in his skin; twisting, connected pieces of dragons, weaponry like arrows, tortured faces, skulls and even some flowers interlocked and interwoven into one overarching gothic scene. The collar of his shirt is open enough to see the tip of a black feathered wing brushing just beneath his collarbone.

‘You have so many tattoos,’ she says in awe, reaching out for his skin before remembering herself. ‘Ah, I’m sorry!’

Her hands returns to her lap, where she tugs and fiddled with the rings on her fingers.

Kevir laughs in response, straightening his arms out on the table for her. ‘It’s alright. Touch me if you like.’

Autumn hesitantly reaches out with one hand, the other clutched into a fist over her chest. Her index fingers brushes against the smooth skin of his forearm. Where the tattoos are, the skin is slightly raised, but still just as soft. Her finger follows the design of the sleeve down to the back of his hand, impossibly smooth. 

‘No one has hands this soft!’ The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop herself. ‘Oh God, that was a very weird thing to say...sorry. I just…’

Kevir rotates his hand on top of hers, smoothing his fingers over her skin. ‘Your hands are this soft.’

She glances up shyly, her flustered mind failing to come up with a response. She slides her hand out from under his, returning it to her lap, once more fidgeting with her rings. What is happening here?

‘Did it hurt?’ she asks after a short silence, still staring at his arms.

‘A little. Tattoos don’t hurt as much as everyone thinks they will. Would you like one?’

‘Eh!?’

‘I’ll give you one for free if you give me some flowers. How about it?’

‘...Could I choose what to get?’

‘Of course. And where you get it.’

‘O-ok...I guess I could get a little one somewhere...a flower maybe?’

‘Perfect! We’ll do it tomorrow.’

‘T-tomorrow? So soon?’

‘Would you rather wait?’

‘No, no tomorrow is fine.’ Her heart thunders in her chest as she says those words.  Autumn has never had good experiences with needles. ‘What kind of flowers would you like?’

‘Hmm…’ Kevir drums his fingers as he considers. ‘Surprise me. Get me some flowers you think I’d like.’

He reclines in his chair with an easy smirk, Autumn’s mind already firing off numerous ideas for species and colours.

She smiles as an idea occurs to her. ‘I think you’ll like what I have planned.’

‘Am I that easy to read?’ He sounds amused.

‘I mean...when I first saw you I thought you were going to be some ruffian who would make some trouble for me or destroy my shop’

Kevir looks less amused now, quizzing her with a raised eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry! I was wrong to be so judgemental! I don’t usually get many young people in my shop, And you carried yourself with such confidence, almost cocky. Clearly I read you wrong. So no, not easy to read…’

‘And what do you think of me now?’

He’s enjoying this, she realises. She is so very obviously crushing on him.

‘Um…’ Her fingers clench into fists as they clutch the soft material of her skirt. ‘Well, I don’t know you very well, but obviously you are very kind, a-and…’ 

‘You’re right, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Swap stories?’

‘I’m not terribly interesting…’ she murmurs, her hnads clenching even tighter.

‘I’m sure I would disagree. Tell me about yourself.’

She takes a deep breath. ‘Well, you know my name is Autumn. My parents, half-elf and tiefling live on the outskirts of the city. My mother is a model, my father her bodyguard. I have a twin brother in university. I like cute animals, sweet food and flowers. See? Not interesting…’

‘You're so cute.’ Kevir smiles genuinely, his head tilted as he stares at her. ‘Your mother is a model?’

Autumn nods, blushing. ‘My mother is Amaranthe Darcelle. You might have heard of her.’

‘Your mother is Amaranthe Darcelle? That must be where you got your beauty.’

‘Beauty?’ Autumn sputters.

Kevir nods. Autumn takes a large swig of her coffee, trying to buy herself some time as she tries to think of some sort of response.

She places her cup back on its saucer. ‘I, um. I think you're very handsome.’

‘Thank you. It makes me happy you think that.’

‘So you never told me about yourself,’ she says, busying herself with her cake to avoid having to look him in the eye. At this rate she was going to explode.

‘You’re in luck. I love talking about myself to beautiful women.’ Kevir reclines in his chair with a smile.

~

Autumn let's out a gasp as she looks at the clock. ‘It’s already been two hours??’

Kevir follows her gaze to the clock, looking as shocked as she feels. ‘It really doesn't feel like its been that long.’

‘Uhm, bill, please!’ She calls to the waitress. ‘I should be getting back to my shop.’

‘As should I.’

The waitress puts down a small silver tray with their bill on top. Kevir shakes his head at her as she pulls out her purse.

‘Put that away. I’m paying.’

‘I should at least pay for myself…’

‘This was my idea. So it’ll be my treat.’

‘Ok, thank you.’

They hover for a moment outside the cafe, neither really wanting to go back to work.

‘Thanks for today. I had fun getting to know you,’ Autumn said.

‘And I you.’

Kevir leans down closer and presses a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek. Autumn let's out a small gasp as her entire body freezes. The heat crawls up her neck up to her face and even her ears.

Kevir clears his throat. ‘I’m sorry. I should have asked first. I’ll see you tomorrow?’

He stumbles off without awaiting her reply. Autumn slowly raises one hand to her cheek, caressing the space his lips had just touched.

‘See you soon,’ she whispers absently to empty air.

~

Autumn takes a bunch of white roses home with her, remembering her deal with Kevir. She sets up large glasses of dye; black, purple and blue, cuts open the stems and evenly divided the rose's between them. Curling up on the sofa, she stares at the roses, hoping he will like them, until the call of sleep is too strong to ignore.

The next day arrives, bringing with it sunshine and happy thoughts. Autumn hums a small tune to herself as she goes about her morning routine, all her thoughts focused on yesterday's...date? Was it a date? Is it too early or presumptuous to call it such? 

Autumn ties the rose's together with a red ribbon, tying it into an attractive bow. Then she sets off for the day, making her way past her shop to the tattoo parlour several doors down, Devil’s Ink. The outside certainly has a gothic look, coffin-shaped windows  the opening hours painted gold onto the glass. Pushing open the heavy door, she comes onto a wooden-floored room, dimly lit by two low-hanging chandeliers. Heavy metal music thumps through the speaker system.

A bored-looking human with bubblegum pink hair mans the dark wooden counter, fingers jabbing away at her phone screen.

‘Um, excuse me?’

She does a double take at Autumn. Dressed in pink frills and a petticoat she probably is a far cry from their usual clientele.

‘Yes, sweetie? How can I help?’

‘Is Kevir here?’

‘One sec.’

She picks up a phone, which Autumn assumes is part of an internal communication system.

‘Yeah, Kevir? Some girl is here to see you, too much pink, wings--hello?’ She hangs up with a sigh. ‘He’ll be down in a minute.’

Autumn watches the set of stairs, which is in fact a two flights that lead to the same balcony, nervously thumbing the petals of her dyed roses.

Kevir appears moments later, jogging down the stairs with glee.

‘Hello, Autumn. You're earlier than I thought you'd be.’

‘Oh, sorry. I guess I’m used to the life of an early bird now.’ She holds out the bouquet of flowers to him. ‘These are for you!’

‘Thank you! Are these...did you dye them?’

She nods with a touch of pride. ‘Yep. I thought  you might like them.’

‘I do. Have you thought about a tattoo designs?’

‘I did. And I thought I’d pick one of your designs. I-if that's ok?’

‘Of course. I’m flattered. Follow me.’

He leads her up the stairs into a  private room. A large leather reclining chair takes up most of the centre of the room, set up next to Kevir’s workstation. On the left-hand wall a black leather sofa is set up in front of a long, narrow coffee table, bare except for a heavy folder. 

Peeking at the walls, she sees countless upon countless of designs, some black and white, other full colours. All of them more magnificent than the next.

Autumn looks about in awe, Kevir watching her with light amusement. 

‘You see anything you like, let me know.’

She nods, her eyes still taking in her breathtaking surroundings. Eventually she settles down on the sofa, flicking through his partfolio. She finds each and every one wonderful in its own way but one above all others draws her in. An open pocketwatch swinging on its chain, wrapped around by roses and thorns stems, a few butterflies taking flight away. It is nothing short of perfection.

‘See something you like?’

She jumps, not realising Kevir is leaning on the back of the sofa to her side, peering down over her shoulder.

‘A nice choice. Also none of my other customers have chosen it, so it’ll be unique. Now, where would you like it?’

Autumn pats the upper half of her left arm. ‘Here…’ Then realisation dawns. Her chosen outfit, though lovely in appearance just had one problem--wherever she chose to have a tattoo, something had to be taken off. 

‘Alright, I’ll get the ink and stencil ready. Just sit on the chair when you’re ready.’

‘R-right.’

Autumn walks over to the chair, hitching herself up on it, wondering if she should take her shirt off now or wait until prompted.Her heart thuds in her chest as she considers it. No one, not ever, has seen her in her underwear before. 

She decides to do it as she waits, now Kevir’s back is turned to her. She pulls the bow around her collar loose, then undoes the buttons on by one, letting it slide off her shoulders and pool around her waist. 

Kevir turns on the chair to face her. ‘Ok are you--’

His words stop as he looks at her, his eyes dropping from her face down to her torso.  She feels suddenly very embarrassed and has to stop herself from wrapping her arms around herself. Kevir quickly regains his composure, pushing a cushioned stand for her to rest her arm on as he gets to work. 

He presses the stencil to her arm, gets her to check the size and placement. After a few minor adjustments, he pulls out the needle, and her courage seems to fail her. Her breath becomes heavy and laboured, unable to take her eyes off the implement in his hand. 

‘All those are going into my arm?’

‘Are you having second thoughts?’ 

‘N-no.’

‘Are you sure? Once I start I can’t stop unless you want an incomplete tattoo on your arm.’

‘No, it’s fine. Go ahead.’

Four hours and many shed tears later, Autumn now has a fresh and wrapped tattoo on her arm.

‘I’m sorry for crying. That was embarrassing.’

‘It’s alright. I know it’s a scary and painful thing. A lot of first timers cry.’ He gently wipes away her residual tears away, his fingers lingering on her skin. ‘I’ve had big, burly grown men cry harder than you.’

She laughs softly through her sniffles. ‘Thank you.’

‘Take it easy for the rest of the day, Autumn. Wash it in two hours time, then wash it and pat dry twice a day.’ He hands her a small, white tub. ‘Apply that after you’ve washed it.’

‘Ok, thank you.’ With some difficulty due to her sore and quite tightly wrapped arm she begins to pull her shirt back on.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Amusement tugs at the corner of his lips. He pulls the shirt up onto her shoulders, fingers tracing every so slightly across her collarbone as he fastens the top button. 

‘Oh you don’t have to…’ she trails off when his fingers brush against her skin, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Then it is over all too quickly, Kevir cleaning his tattoo gun as though he hadn't fastened her shirt. She lingers awkwardly for a moment before she slides off the chair.

‘I’ll see you out.’

He takes both of her hands in his once they are outside, taking a moment to stare in her eyes before he leans in to kiss her cheek. Autumn frees one of her hands from his and places it on the side of his face, pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. They remain interlinked there, arms wrapping around each other as their lips lock together.

Once they part, they are breathless and she feels dizzy. Her eyes remain closed for a few seconds after, savouring the lingering feeling of his lips on hers.

When she opens her eyes, she meets Kevir’s, dark and alluring as a moonless night.

‘Your eyes are beautiful,’ she breathes.

‘Not as beautiful as yours. See you tomorrow?’ he asks hopefully.

She nods, beaming. ‘See you tomorrow.’

[yasha-pick-me-up]

we get a few years (and then it wants us back)

a project I’ve worked on with @minky-for-short! It’s angsty, y’all, fair warning. If you’d rather read it on ao3, here’s the link! i hope you guys enjoy

Vax liked working at the hospital. He liked feeling useful, helping people to feel better. The fact that Pike was always nearby was a bonus, but he would have enjoyed the job regardless.

Even when it meant he couldn’t be home to tuck his babies in.

“Papa’s gonna read me two stories tonight!” Rosie chattered, animated even as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. “And he said tomorrow we can go play in the park!”

“Really?” Vax smiled, watching her sweet little face on his phone screen. “That’ll be so fun, won’t it?”

“Yup!” she beamed. “Robin’s gonna play hide and seek with me. And you can come!”

“Can I?” Vax chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart. Can I talk to Papa now? I’m sure it’s past your bedtime.”

Rosie pouted and huffed but handed the phone over after blowing Vax as many kisses as she could. He could hear her giggling as she and Robin went down the hall to their rooms and was still smiling when Shaun’s face appeared.

“Good luck getting her settled down,” he grinned, and Shaun laughed ruefully, shaking his hair free from its ponytail. “You look handsome tonight,” Vax sighed.

“Thank you, my bird,” Shaun smiled. “You look tired. Remind me when your shift ends?”

“I’ll be home around three,” Vax said, double checking his schedule. He peered closely at his husband in the camera. “Please don’t wait up for me this time. Get some sleep and I’ll let myself in.”

Shaun huffed. “I like to see you when you come in…” At Vax’s frown, he relented, grinning. “Yes, fine, Vax’ildan, I’ll go to sleep in our cold, empty bed all by myself, waiting for you to come home and fill the gap you’ve left.”

Vax snorted, eyes rolling. “Bastard.” They both trailed off, just smiling at each other, happy to see each other’s faces, until Vax sighed.

“I should get back to work,” he murmured. “Kiss the babies for me, yeah?”

“You have my word,” Shaun promised, smiling softly. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vax chuckled. “I love you, Shaun. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Vax. I love you too.”

Vax always hated the silence after they ended the call, the sudden lack of Shaun’s bright presence. Shaking his head, he got to his feet to take his turn of rotations.

It was a quiet night, which made the hospital seem slightly eerie as he made his way down the corridors, but Vax was glad there were no emergencies, at least, but it made the hours drag on and on. 3 a.m. seemed like a lifetime away.

He was on his way back from getting coffee when he turned the corner and saw Shaun, leaning against the wall outside the nurses’ station. Just the sight of him made Vax smile, laughing as he hurried toward him, standing up on his toes to kiss him softly.

“What’re you doing here?” he laughed incredulously. “It’s…” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s past midnight? Who’s got the kids?”

“The kids are fine,” Shaun said, voice low and rumbly in a way that made Vax’s face flush. “Can you take a break?”

“I…” Vax peered over to the desk, snorting as he saw Pike in there, waving him on. “Yeah,” he decided. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

“Excellent,” Shaun purred, guiding Vax away with a hand resting on his lower back. He led him back up the corridors, taking him around corners until they reached a quieter wing, Vax raising his eyebrows as Shaun pulled him into an empty room.

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” he hummed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But seriously, Shaun, who has the kids? It’s so late.”

“I’m well aware of the time, my darling,” Shaun answered, not looking particularly concerned. “This won’t take long, there’s just something we need to discuss. Something that couldn’t wait until you got home.”

That gave Vax pause, his head tilting to the side. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Shaun sighed deeply, sitting down next to him, hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid so, Vax’ildan.” Vax frowned, opening his mouth to speak but Shaun cut across him. “You see…you’ve wronged me, my dear. Hurt me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

His grip on Vax’s shoulder was like a vice, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Vax’s heart plummeting to his shoes, the rug pulled out from under his feet and leaving him spinning aimlessly. He swallowed before he spoke, trying to keep his voice level. “What…What are you talking about?”

Shaun’s lip curled into a snarl, one that made Vax flinch away from him and bolt to his feet. “I’m talking about all the pain you caused me, years ago, Vax.” He glared up at him. “I can’t stop thinking about how you hurt me. It’s all I ever think about.” As he stood up again, Vax caught a flash of yellow in his eyes, his mind racing as he started to back away toward the door.

“Shaun,” he said carefully. “I don’t understand. Why…?” And the pieces fell into place, his mouth falling open in horror as the figure before him started to laugh, something hard and cruel that didn’t fit Shaun’s voice at all.

“Oh, Vax’ildan,” he sighed, backing him against the door. “Did you really believe you could just get away from the crimes of your past and build a neat little life for yourself.” And before Vax could move, before he could open his mouth, there was a sharp pain in his side, a blade plunged to the hilt below his ribs. “Did you really think you could hide from me?” Shaun growled, and suddenly it wasn’t Shaun, hands twisting backwards so the palms faced out, smooth brown skin replaced by orange and black fur, the growl growing more animalistic.

Vax groaned as the creature drew the knife back out, his hand grasping weakly at the doorknob as blood started to soak his scrubs. “Hotis…”

Hotis’ wide maw twisted into a smile. “Ah, so you do remember me. I was about to be disappointed, Vax.”

The blade was poisoned, Vax could tell that much. He tried desperately to think of how long it would take for it to affect him, of where he could go, what he could do. As Hotis drew back a large paw, Vax twisted, jerking the door open so hard it smashed into Hotis’ face and bolting out into the corridor, heart stuttering at the roar of pain from inside the room. There was nobody here, he didn’t have his daggers, and he needed help. Taking a deep breath, he screamed the only word he could think.

“Jenga!”

Pike, beautiful, brilliant Pike heard him, because he knew she would, even though it’s been years since any of them had to use their code word. She tore down the corridor, mace in hand, skidding to a stop at the sight of him.

“Vax! What’s wro-?” Her eyes went wide. “You’re bleeding!”

Vax batted her searching hands away, wincing. “Hotis,” he wheezed. “Danger.”

Pike looked up in time to see the rakshasa burst out of the room, claws extended, eyes wild. In an instant, Pike pulled Vax behind her and summoned an impossibly bright white light to blind Hotis. Not wasting a second, she seized Vax’s hand and took off running, dragging him back up the corridors with more speed than Vax knew she had in her. They reached her office and she barricaded the door behind them, breathing hard.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay, okay…”

Vax’s chest was feeling constricted and tight, and there were tears rolling down his cheeks he hadn’t even realized were there until they splashed onto his shirt.

“Okay,” Pike nodded to herself, seeming to come to a decision. “Let me heal you real qui-“ But Vax shook his head.

“Hotis might go after the patients, you need to go…go get security.”

Pike hesitated, glancing between him and the door. “Shit, Vax,” she groaned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the door locked, don’t let anyone in but me, and…gods, sit down before you collapse, please.”

Vax waved her away, though he did drop into a chair the minute she was gone, his head falling into his hands as he replayed the last few minutes in his head.

“It wasn’t Shaun,” he told himself, trying to be firm but his voice still shook. “It wasn’t him, it wasn’t.”

He continued to talk to himself, trying to slow his heart down, until there was a voice at the door.

“Vax!” Pike. “Vax, let me in, I’m back!”

He actually almost unlocked the door before thinking better of it, drawing back. “Pike?” he called instead. “Is it really you?”

“It is, I swear,” her voice shook with anxiety. “Um, okay, okay, so I call you string bean and you call me pickle. The beads in your hair are from our trip to the beach last summer…”

That was enough for Vax. He reached to open the door, but it took longer than he wanted, making him scowl. He’d picked locks harder than this one, but his fingers were failing him now, feeling thick and clumsy as he finally managed to turn the lock and open the door, Pike sighing in relief.

“Okay,” she smiled. “Now can I please heal you?”

Vax started to move toward her, but a large paw swiped out at her, smacking her in the chest and sending her into the opposite wall. Hotis shouldered his way into the room, teeth bared. “If your friend is smart, she’ll stay down,” he snarled.

Vax skittered backwards, hand reaching for anything he could use, landing on Pike’s heavy stapler. He felt ridiculous, with that as his only weapon, the poison in his body making his tongue heavy and stupid, making him sway where he stood.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Hotis purred. “You don’t look so good, Vax. Please, allow me to put you out of your misery.”

“Fuck off,” Vax groaned, the only words his brain could summon up.

Hotis laughed at that, shoving him back against the window, raising the poisoned blade to his throat, tilting his chin back to expose his neck. “See what happens when you cross Hotis?” he said, voice quiet. “I’m going to enjoy this, but don’t worry. I’ll stop by your home when I’m finished here.” His form changed, and he was Shaun again, still with the awful look of hatred on his face. “What do you think, Vax’ildan?” he mused. “What do you think your poor husband will look like when I’m done with him? Or your little girl?”

When he looked back later, Vax would never be able to recall the exact movements he made, exactly what happened in that instant as Hotis started to press the edge of the blade into his skin. But suddenly, that blade ended up in Vax’s palm, rolled free from Hotis’ grasp, and Vax had swung up onto his shoulders, again orange, thighs tight around his head as he pressed the blade into the thick fur of his neck.

“Stay the fuck away from them,” Vax said with a snarl of his own. “If you ever fucking go near them, I’ll make sure you never find your way out of the Nine Hells again.”

And for the second time since Vax met Hotis, all those years ago, he slit his throat.

The noise Hotis made was horrible, caught between a growl and a scream, throwing Vax forward as he crumpled to the ground. He tried one more swipe toward Vax, wicked claws gleaming, and a bright light consumed him, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ashes and the echo of a scream. Vax twisted hazily, all his energy gone, and saw Pike, panting heavily and leaning against the door, blood trickling down her forehead. Her hand was stretched out toward the ashes, the expression on her face like nothing Vax had ever seen.

Vax’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth, but he tried to speak anyway. “Call Shaun,” he slurred. “The kids…somewhere safe.”

Pike was on her knees by his side in an instant, her fierce expression replaced by a panicked one as she set her hands on his side. All he could do was blink up at her, vision going fuzzy at the edges.

“Stay with me, Vax,” Pike ordered, but she sounded far away, like she was at the end of a long tunnel. She gasped, holding his face. “No, no, no…”

And his vision faded to black.

[blinkandrevile]

I meet my doppelganger by chance when I'm on my way back from therapy. The clinic is in the middle of the city, so it's only about fifteen minutes away by bus and the buildings around it are relatively fancy. The waiting room is a mishmash of businesslike types who're clearly there because it's right next to their offices, and people like me who are broke and can't afford to pay full price for a doctor so we go to the doctors that bulk bill and try our best to get decent medical treatment out of it. The therapist there doesn't bulk bill, but if you get a doctor's referral she only charges $40 each for six sessions. We've discussed a recent diagnosis, but before I could really get into how it's been affecting me it's 11:30 and I'm gently ushered out of the hall. I hear her talking to her next patient as she leads them back through. I pay my $40 and I wish I had enough money to get food. I leave and head back through the city to the bus station. I can see someone walking up the path in my direction. I'm surprised how much he looks like me. He looks surprised too. He's several meters away by the time I realize that we're the same.

He's in a button-down and slacks. Under his expression of surprise is one of permanent stress and exhaustion etched into his face. What surprises me is that he's as big as I am, round-faced with thick limbs. I feel guilty for noticing it. I feel guilty for being that way. I can see on his face that he feels guilty, too.

Our paths aren't diverging. I have to go to the bus station. I want to go home. He's got a coffee in his hand and he looks like he wants to get back to work. With opposite paths we're being pulled together and my heart races with nerves as he draws near. People talk a lot about what you'd do if you met your doppelganger. They tend either towards fucking or killing them, with some gentler types noting that they'd hug and befriend that mirror of the self. The possibilities flash through my mind as the distance between us closes begrudgingly, but all of them make me want to throw up, even the thought of talking to him. I don't want to see this, I realize, don't want to meet his eye when he gets close enough for me to see the colour of them. He drops his gaze a second before I drop mine and we push our bodies to opposite extremes of the sidewalk, my shoulder almost grazing against storefronts in my urgent need to stay clear of him. I don't see what he does but I can tell he's doing it. I can see the wide-eyed panic on his face before it glazes over into dissociation. I can feel it on mine. I'm glad I couldn't afford food. I'm not sure I would've eaten it. I think it might have gotten tainted.

I take the bus home and I'm relieved when I reach the normalcy of my bedroom. The dishes on the drawers are as comforting as always. It's too hot to be under the blankets but I crawl under anyway and I don't know what to do and I can't sleep and I wonder if he sleeps better than me and I play a game on my phone until I'm distracted enough to breathe again. As soon as I stop, I wonder if his dad's in jail and how much he eats and why he doesn't seem like he's disabled and I'm suddenly enraged that there might be a version of me out there that actually got a fighting chance at life and my stupid phone game stops working for me so I get up to make some bread. An hour later I've convinced myself that it was just psychosis rearing its ugly head again, and I resolve to talk to my boyfriend about it and what it might mean, and within a week I'm pretty much okay. I don't book another appointment with that therapist. It was my fifth session anyway. I know I won't have another $40 next week. The electricity bill's coming in soon. You have to have priorities.

It gets worse after a month. The avoidance starts to spread. It's another patch of the sprawling capital that I can't go. First it's just the area straight up from the bus station into the main CBD. Then I figure he must go shopping often there if he has a fancy desk job, so I start avoiding the shops. He probably has the same taste as me, so I keep the same clothes I've always had and hope this coming summer isn't too hot. I get on the bus to visit a friend one day and the two-minute stop in the station makes my skin crawl. On the trip back home I feel like I'm burning alive. I resent him for taking the city away from me. I'm struggling to leave the house. I live so close to the city. It's too close for comfort. I buy a plane ticket.

My boyfriend is understanding. He lives in another country, so as long as I have a reliable internet connection he moves where I move. In the airport, I don't feel as excited as I feel like I should. All of my trauma is anchoring me here, and I'm relieved to be getting out, but I feel like a dog on a chain. Still, it's better than staying. The flight doesn't take long. I'm comfortable. It stops off in Sydney, then we fly over the strait and land in the Hobart airport. Everything goes smoothly. I get off the plane and go to baggage collection.

There's someone there dressed like me, and I swear to god if it's that fucking guy again I am going to be absolutely humiliated. I squint at him - he hasn't seen me, I think - and sure enough, it's me again. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans. It's a stupid shirt with a picture of a wolf on it. I don't own it, but god, I wish I did. It rules. I'm completely miserable about it. 

You can usually feel it when someone's watching you, and yeah, he feels it. He looks up from his phone and glances at me then does a double take, and it's incredibly embarrassing to see. I wonder if it's as embarrassing to see how shocked I am to see him. The chagrin on his face is making me want to scream. The baggage is moving so slowly. It's so slow. I rip my eyes from him and we pointedly avoid looking at each other while constantly shooting looks at each other to check if one of us has moved or done anything. I decide as soon as I see my baggage that this isn't going to work and I blow the rest of my savings on the soonest flight back to Perth that I can get. I ask my best friend if I can stay with them and they're confused but fine with it. I call my boyfriend and he's worried for me. I understand. Things are weird right now, but things with him are fine. I love him. I'm back home two days later and I sleep for 18 hours in my best friend's spare room. They live a little further out of the city. I'm comforted by that. I'm pretty sure my doppelganger is the kind of person to stay in Tasmania. Better prospects, I'd guess. That comforts me, too.

A year later, my boyfriend moves here to be with me, and we relocate about forty minutes north of the river. I don't know that my doppelganger thought I was going to stay in Tasmania and moved back here too, back to his career in architecture and what ends up being three dogs in his unit south of the river. We don't end up crossing paths. I don't need to go to the city anymore, and if I ever go further south than that, I'm always driving and I never happen to go exploring down there. I have everything I need. Several years pass.

I'm off to the shops. My husband is at work, and my freelance work isn't due for another week, so I figure I can have the day off. The small local supermarket that I grew up with has been converted into a gargantuan mall over the past thirty years. Whenever I walk through it I feel strange. The very middle of it is exactly the same; a heart of cream and turquoise with polished white linoleum floors. I remember how it echoed one Thursday night when I was fifteen and shopping for school shoes and I sang and yelled and laughed until I realized there were a few other stray shoppers and shut my mouth up very, very tight. It could never echo now. Even at 6am, the whole place is packed. I wouldn't come here, except that Lush has announced that one of my favourite soaps is being discontinued, and I want to go to the store here to stock up before it's gone forever.

I'm dismayed upon arrival to find that what once was a towering stack of yellow and gold marbled soap is now a nearly empty display. There's just one chunk of soap left, and it's relatively small. Probably won't last me more than a few months. My disappointment quickly makes way for relief as I dodge my way through swaths of excited teenagers to get into the store, making a beeline for the last of the soap. Hurrying and bumping people on my way, I finally get to the display. With a sigh of relief, I reach my hand out - but quickly draw it back as it brushes against the hand of another. He has a small white circle of a scar on his left thumb. I look up in alarm and my doppelganger stares astonished back at me. 

We look at each other for a very long time. Some teenage hand winds between us and takes its prize. I'm starting to become aware of the looks the staff members are giving us. The doppelganger is, too. His eyes are grey. I've seen that look before, when I catch myself in the mirror when I don't expect it. The whites of my eyes shine back at me like glossy eggshells. Both of us are as terrified as each other. It doesn't make it better.

The intense anxiety of the outside eyes upon us breaks the spell, and in an instant the both of us are marching shakily out of the store and in opposite directions. I'm heading out to my car. I don't know where he's going. I don't want to. All I know, all that can calm me right now, is that I could tell from his expression that this was not where he usually conducted his shopping trips. I knew what he'd wanted was the same as me. I wonder if his dad is dead. I leave the mall empty-handed.

I don't go to there anymore.