#i made a mistake starting it halfway through the week how am i supposed to focus on college now lmao

[upsidedownsmore]

hi fi rush is

very good

i

is this gaming

holy fuck

[hotchs-bitch]

Fluffy Feb Day 5- Words of Affirmation

Warnings: platonic relationship, BAU reader, brief mentions of case involving kids (no details)

Pairing: Hotch x blank slate Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 902

Your performance review couldn’t come at a worse time, in your opinion. You’re fresh off of a hard case; those involving children are always the worst. Everyone is exhausted, not helped by the late hour that you land back in Quantico, but reports need to be written and files need to be filed, so you end up back at the office right from the airstrip.

Halfway through your second cup of coffee and squinting at the folder in your hands, you look up to see Hotch standing near your desk. He shoots you an apologetic smile, then lifts the folder he’s holding. Your name is written on the tab, and you groan when you realize what it is.

“Performance reviews. I hope you don’t mind, but they’re due by 9 AM,” he explains, and you get to your feet. “We can do it in the morning if you prefer.”

That’s almost laughable because it’s nearing 1 AM already, so you just shake your head and start in the direction of his office. “Let’s get it over with.”

Your attitude isn’t exactly stellar, but you know that after the week you’ve had, he’ll understand. Hotch follows you up the steps to his office, seating himself behind the large mahogany desk before he sets the file down.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice gentle, and you know that this isn’t part of the review. “I know this case wasn’t an easy one.”

‘I’m fine’ is on the tip of your tongue, ready to be said so you can get on with the review, but instead, you sigh out a tired, “I’ve been better. How are you doing?”

“I’m alright. Thank you.” Hotch opens the folder and removes a few papers, but you narrow your eyes at him. 

He’s got a shield up, as he so often does. Especially now, on those days that he feels the need to appear strong for the sake of the team. It makes something in your chest ache for him; the rest of the team can bitch and moan and whine all they want about the workload and long hours, but Hotch’s shield never falters. Who can he talk to, about the things you’ve seen and the lives you live out in the field?

“I’m serious,” you insist. “That was probably the worst week of my life since I’ve started here, and I don’t even have a kid. Hotch, talk to me.”

The smile he gives you is half-placating, half-grateful. It gets on your exhausted nerves more than it should. “I am. I’m trying to do your review, remember?”

His light tone doesn’t lend itself to your good graces. “The sheriff was a dick,” you tell him, and his smile becomes a little more genuine at that.

“We’re supposed to call that ‘unreasonable’.” His correction comes quickly, as you knew it would, but there’s no mistaking the amusement in his eyes.

“Fine. He was an unreasonable unreasonable-head, and you dealt with him more than anyone else did, and I don’t know how you didn’t rip his head off.”

Hotch’s head ducks slightly, as though he’s unused to the recognition, and it makes you frown. Case after case, he commends your efforts and those of the rest of the team with little comments made here and there. You’re no stranger to hearing that you’ve done well in an interrogation, and you’ve heard Morgan complimented for his takedown of an unsub more than once.

So, who’s saying that stuff to Hotch?

He clears his throat and looks down at his paper, but you’re not done talking. “You did really well handling the victim’s family, too,” you add, if only to see his lips press together into what has become a repressed smile. “I could see that they felt safer after you spoke to them.”

“Yes. Well,” he clears his throat, “Thank you. The family is one of our top priorities.”

“I know that. I’m just saying; you’re good at your job, Hotch.” You shrug one shoulder, trying to play off your words with nonchalance for his comfort. It works, and you can see the moment he relaxes slightly and some tension drains from his shoulders and their stiff posture.

“That’s kind of you to say,” he says, and you can tell that you’ve flustered him. It’s almost time to back off, you can tell, but you’re not quite done yet.

“Honest.” Your correction comes as swiftly as his earlier one did. “You’re in charge for a reason. We wouldn’t be half the team we are without you.”

This time, when Hotch clears his throat and looks down at the paper, you don’t interrupt. His cheeks are tinted with the lightest pink, and he seems intent on not looking back at you.

“Okay, Agent.” When he speaks after a minute, his tone is final but it’s also more casual. Relaxed. “We should get on with the review; it’s getting late.”

“Of course.” You relax into your chair in turn as he leafs through a couple of pages, and the moment gives you time to profile him despite your silent agreement that you never would. 

His head is ducked, but not enough to hide the upturned corners of his mouth, and you make a mental note to compliment him in the field more often. He deserves it more than anyone, and you’re happy to be the one to give it to him.

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[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9  

Part 10   Part 11   Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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[crippleprophet]

so, i've been using my cane for a couple weeks now, and something i've noticed is that now that i use it most of the time i am worse at walking without it, and that terrifies me a little. so, okay, i don't use it at home because i don't like using it around my family, and i've noticed that i'm way more off balance than i used to be, i get tired quicker when i don't have it, and i generally feel more like shit than i used to (i use my cane for balance and leg weakness/general fatigue, for context) and is this normal?

like, i've been trying to equate it to my glasses, because they're both aids, and like, before i got glasses i thought i could see fine, but as soon as i got them and put them on the world snapped into crystal clarity, and when i took them off again the world was way blurrier than it had been before i put them on, but the glasses didn't make my vision /worse/ they just gave me actual clarity, and thus i could then tell how bad my vision was before, but i don't know if that's how it's supposed to work with canes, and i'm worried that all the shit my mother says about growing to rely on canes is right and now i'm just wondering if i've actually made a mistake by getting one even though it helps, because now i'm wondering if it's actually hurting me.

i'm sorry to dump this on you, but i have no one else to talk to about this stuff, any advice or anything you can offer is really appreciated.

hey, i’m sorry this is concerning you, i can totally understand that being scary! i’m not an expert by any means but i am halfway through a master’s in biomedical engineering with research experience in biomechanics of mobility aids (i study how we walk) and i’ve been using a cane for 4 1/2 years (and axillary crutches + hiking stick for about two years before then) so from both personal and professional experience i think it’s incredibly likely what you’re experiencing is like the glasses metaphor you described.

there can be changes in your body due to mobility aid usage, including deconditioning & muscle atrophy, but this subject is not as simple as doctors (and ableist parents lol) try to present it for several reasons:

ambulatory mobility aid usage should be compared to not walking, not to walking unaided. there is no world in which i am an able-bodied person and walk like one! it’s not gonna happen! what was gonna happen if i didn’t start using a cane was that my near-falls would become actual falls and i would walk way less because of that risk + because it hurt more.

if you do want to minimize muscle atrophy and deconditioning, it can be managed. there are lots of resources on low-impact exercises for folks who are mobility aid users, bedbound, etc. walking is not the only way to move your body!

when, how, and how much you move your body is a choice that should be yours to make. if any—or all!—exercise fucking hurts, it’s okay to say fuck this and not do it. you do not owe it to anyone to be as able-bodied as possible. if there are certain things you want or need to be able to do for the practicality of existing in an inaccessible world, that’s totally understandable! but that prioritization should be yours to choose. personally i prioritize what’s gonna minimize my pain, which brings me to my next point:

usually, bodily changes lead to mobility aid changes, not the other way around. me using a cane wasn’t a “slippery slope” to using a mobility scooter; my condition degenerated because i was receiving zero treatment. i can’t exercise my autoimmune disorder away. and sometimes using a less supportive aid makes you realize you would benefit more from another one (platform crutches because they offload more weight from your lower body! a rollator because you’ll always have a place to sit!) and that’s an adjustment, yes, but it’s also something that should be celebrated

full disclosure i haven’t actually done any comparative studies of using a cane versus walking unaided (all of my research compares between different mobility aids and in my opinion asking someone to walk unaided is inherently unethical, like, that’s torture) but based on the electromyography studies i have conducted, i’d be willing to bet that the difference in muscle activation between using a cane and walking unaided is very minimal. most changes are based on how much weight you can offload into the device, and with a cane, the upper threshold on that is comparatively super low! again, there’d be nothing wrong if it did cause a big difference in muscle usage, it’d just be something to be aware of, but i really don’t think that’s common.

some personal experience that may be reassuring for you:

across four years of mobility aid usage, my balance when walking unaided never deteriorated. it only started changing about six months ago when my overall coordination got way worse due to my conditions getting worse

i’ve worked as a researcher on a balance study funded by multiple large, reputable national organizations where the goal was to rehabilitate people’s balance through building muscle strength. we measured my own balance using the assessment technology and the primary investigator (ie my boss) was very clear that 1) yes, the range in which i could catch myself to prevent a fall was smaller than an able-bodied person; 2) this was because it hurts significantly worse to put more weight on one leg or the other rather than distributed equally; 3) the solution for fall prevention would be to continue using mobility aids that decreased pain and increased my base of support, not to try to exercise my way out of chronic pain, thereby increasing the pain i experience which would increase my fall risk

when i first got a cane, i was planning to only use it when i was going to a big event or something (i purchased it prior to my first Pride), but it made such a huge difference that after the first day practicing using it i never left home without it

are there certain risks to mobility aid use? sure. but there are also risks to trying to force your body to walk unaided when your body is telling you that’s dangerous. i’m not judging your decision either way—back when i was capable of doing so, i was certainly strategically closeted about being disabled and would keep my cane folded in a bag or in the car—but i absolutely do not think your cane is hurting you when all the factors are weighed. ultimately, as long as you’re making an informed decision, it’s the right one.

wishing you all the best with this journey, it’s definitely something i’ve wrestled with a lot 💕💕

[k1ng0fn0b0dy]

Phasmophobia ❤

He/Him Pronouns

1400+ Words

Description: You plays Phasmophobia for the first time with Scott, Wilbur, and Jack. Wilbur teaches you how to play and then something extra. (WilburxReader)

A/N: This was at the start of me writing so it's like the only one in third person.

[Rest of the story under the cut]

Y/N spins leisurely, waiting for their computer to boot up. They hadn't been ready to stream today but Scott DM'ed them a few minutes ago and Y/N couldn't say no to their favorite cousin.

Opening discord, they shot Scott a quick message and then pulled up twitch on their second monitor. Y/N smiled as chat spammed "hello y/n!" as the 1-minute timer slowly ticked down

3

2

1

"Hello everyone!" Y/N exclaimed happily, giving a quick wave to the camera. "Today we're going to be streaming Phasmophobia with Scott, Jack Manifold, and Wilbur Soot."

They couldn't help but giggle as their chat flew by with excited proclamations. As usual, their lovely fans started spamming "Y/N CLOUT" and "Y/N SUPREMACY" until it was all theycould see. Laughing, Y/N started reading out donos and thanking subs.

They were in the middle of thanking a 5 gifted sub when Scott made a private DM group and started a call. Quickly joining, Y/N and Scott started their usual greeting.

"Scott!"

"Y/N!"

"Scott!!"

"Y/N!!"

"Scott!!!"

"Y/N!!!"

"Wilbur," A deep voice joined in. A startled laugh leaves them, making Scott and Wilbur join in.

"Ayup fellas." Jack Manifold startles Y/N again, his voice louder than either of their friend's voices. It's impossible to keep a straight face as they devolve into just the word "ayup".

When Y/N finally manages to load into the game, their characters face to face with Wilbur's. "Hello, Wil."

"Hello, Y/N," he says back, not moving. They keep stock still, looking straight into the camera like they assume Wilbur's doing. Actually, they pull up his stream on mute and barely manage to hide a grin when they realize he is. Taking a quick glance at his chat, Y/N can't help but giggle.

"BLUSHBUR"

"AWW WILBY IS RED"

"BLUSHBUR"

"I still prefer chadbur"

Wilbur breaks out into a giggle too, brushing his hair away from his eyes. It's odd being in proximity chat, but it's still funny to hear the distant noise of Scott and Jack arguing.

"Are you going to move?"

"Are you?"

Rolling their eyes, Y/N smiles as they move over to Jack, who's trying to throw the basketball at Scott. They devolve into "ayup" again as soon as Wilbur starts trying to talk to Scott.

Y/N shoots their webcam a quick grin and move towards the whiteboard where Scott's checking his items. With a totally innocent voice, they start bringing up last week's family party. (don't worry, covid doesn't exist in these au's unless I say so

"So, baby cousin, have you been drinking recently?”

"Oh no," he groans, instantly realizing his mistake in inviting Y/N.

"I mean, last week you were absolutely hammered and so I'm just worried." They coo, amping up their innocent tone until it sounds like they're speaking to a child. "Come on, sugar pea, tell your older cousin all your darkest secrets that I totally won't use for blackmail."

"Are you blackmailing Scott, Y/T/N?" Wilbur surprises you, his deep voice highly amused but also right next to you. They spin your avatar around, face to face, again, with Wilbur's.

They click their tongue, sighing dramatically. "I suppose I was trying to blackmail him until you came over, Wilbur Soot."

Glancing over at his stream, Y/N spots him grin mischievously at the camera. With a heavy voice, he utters four words that turn them bright red."Was I too distracting?"

"You're such a dick." They laugh.

"That's Scott's cousin you're flirting with," Jack Manifold cuts in with a mocking jeer. Y/N gratefully exit the situation and start setting up their items instead.

They can practically hear the mock annoyance in Scott's voice when they go back to bothering him. He loves Y/N though, despite the teasing.

{...}

Y/N realized after they arrived at the house that they've never played the game before.

"Scott," They start, putting their head in their hands. "How do you play?"

"Do you not know how?" Wilbur said incredulously. Jack was picking up stuff off the carts, crouching down by pressing buttons Y/N didn't know.

Y/N flushed, running a hand through their (h/l) hair. Chat both pities them and bullies them, exactly like they knew chat would. "Well, I've never played before."

"That's fine," Scott said, picking up his own gear and walking out of the van. "Wilbur can teach you. Right, Wil?"

"Sure?"

Scott didn't hear because he was already making his way into the house.

Awkwardly, they started talking. "So-? Uh, how do you pick things up?"

"You press E," Wilbur chuckled. "G is to drop things. C is crouch, J is for Journal which you'll fill out with info on the ghost, flashlight should be T."

Nodding along, Y/N started picking up things from the shelf. "What do all these things do?"

"Some of them are obvious, like Thermometer. But others are easier to explain as we go. You should pick up a camera, crucifix, and flashlight. I'll take the EMF, a camera, and a spirit box."

Wilbur's explanations weren't too hard to follow. The two of you stuck together as they wandered the house. It was two stories with a basement and the darkness was only slightly terrifying.

"Victoria Gonzales," Wilbur called out. They were about to leave the room when their flashlights started flickering. Y/N's thermometer was picking up freezing temperatures even if the room seemed safe. Their flashlights were still flickering, so Wilbur and Y/N huddled into a corner together, silently waiting.

Quietly, Wilbur started whispering to Y/N. "We can probably leave the room, right?"

"Isn't it still hunting?" They whispered back. Wilbur rolled his eyes, "C'mon, don't you trust me?"

Silently, Y/N thought about it. They did.

"Fine."They sighed. "But if anything happens I will blame you.'"

Wilbur grinned, "Absolutely nothing will happen to you, dear."

Y/N grumbled as they silently followed after Wilbur's character, pink dust scattered across their face.  The halls were dark, grey walls plain and boring but not any less terrifying. 

And unlike what Wilbur said, Y/N died 30 seconds later. It was far too quick for them to register what was even happening before the demon's hand was clawing their face out and their body was flat on the ground. 

Wilbur was next, the demon opening the doors to the closet they were hiding in and instantly killing him. They stalked away, leaving two corpses

"Wow, I never thought you'd be stupid enough to try and do this." Wilbur deflects instantly. Y/N sighs, sadly watching their corpse just lay there.

"Well, you're here with me, so that makes you stupid too."

Wilbur rolled his eyes, grinning softly. Y/N looks over, their eyes soft and shining. [Am I doing semi-realism in this now? Whatever, go with it]

Reaching out, Wilbur held their hand in his. It wasn't the smoothest, but the callouses were beautiful to him. He could die happy (if he wasn't already dead) just holding Y/N's hand.

"You did good," Wilbur murmered, closing the distance between them. Smiling, Y/N lifted their hands and caressed Wilburs cheek. It was gentle. Safe.

"So did you."

Pressing their foreheads together, Wilbur sighed softly. "You know, there's something I haven't taught you yet."

"That is?" Y/N grinned.

Wilbur closed the gap completely, pressing their lips together. It was quick and sweet, their noses bumped together but when Y/N tilted their head it all just fit. They chased one kiss after another, tasting the sweet mix of Wilbur's cherry gum and Y/N's bubblegum ring pop.

Wilbur leaned back, his hands placed on their waist tightly. "I guess that's one thing you don't need to learn."

They breathed heavily, still gazing into each other's eyes. Wilbur smiled and then the world flipped.

{《☆》}

"I got it right, it was a demon," Scott bragged over Jack's defeated guess of a Wraith. Wilbur blinked and his chat was going crazy, full of the same thing.

Y/NBUR

Y/NXWILBUR

KINDA GAY KINDA POG

KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

"Shut up chat," Y/N said, Wilbur glanced up, grinning. Maybe his chat wasn't the only one being annoying

{《☆》}

[Okay, guys. So I started writing this off of the second phasmophobia stream Wilbur had and halfway through he went live with another phasmophobia stream and it was the best and worst timing because I couldn't focus but also *Wilbur my beloved*]

[-L0v3, k1ng]

[serenailith]

yesterday’s gone (we’ll make it through)—xvi

on ao3 here

previous |next

“We need to talk.”

Dream stares at Hob with the fork between his lips. Hob stifles a smile at the sight—hair sticking up in all directions, bleary eyes though he’s been awake for nearly an hour now, and now pouty lips wrapped around the utensil. That last one sends a small shiver down Hob’s spine. He shakes it off and raises a brow as Dream removes the fork and slowly chews his bite of pancake.

Time to atone for your sins, Gadling. You’re good at this.

“I. . . I made a mistake, summoning Death. Especially since I never told you I was doing it or that I had done it.” Hob sighs and runs a finger along the rim of his mug. The tea has long since cooled, but he takes a sip anyway. “I wanted to help.”

Dream exhales slowly and sets his fork on the table. “I know.”

“I had to do something. Or, well, I felt I did. Because I care about you, and this? You being cut off from your realm? It isn’t feasible in the long term. There has to be catastrophic damage done the longer you’re away.”

Dream’s lashes flutter against his cheekbones, and when he looks at Hob again, his eyes are a watery grey, rimmed in red. “I am aware of this. I do not need reminded.”

“So. . .” Hob steels himself for the fallout of his next question: “Will you please consider asking your sister for help?”

Dream doesn’t answer. Hob sighs, slumping in his chair. The lack of response is better than the alternative, he supposes, but he’d really like to get through one conversation with his Friend where they both participate. Unfortunately, that wish doesn’t seem to be coming true today.

He isn’t sure why he’d ever be surprised by that.

He’s just grateful that Dream hasn’t stormed away again.

Over the next few hours, Hob catches himself watching Dream more closely than he has in weeks. The man does little more than read and drink tea that he’s learnt how to make properly, while Hob readies himself for his sole class of the day. It’s quiet in the flat, peaceful, but he wants to shatter it with questions. With demands that Dream acquiesce and talk to Death. With declarations of love and ‘doing this for your own good’.

So into his thoughts is Hob that he doesn’t realise he’s done it until he’s already halfway to work. His hand still tickles from running through dark silken hair; he can still feel the softness of warm skin under his lips. Over the scents of the city, he can smell the earthiness of his body wash—the same wash he used on Dream last night.

Oh, God above, he’s just kissed his Friend. Sure, it was only on the forehead, but still! Blokes don’t kiss their friends, even if there’s love involved.

Hob lets his head fall back against the seat and squeezes his eyes closed. Dream hadn’t said a word when Hob was walking out the door, but that doesn’t mean he will still be at the flat when Hob comes home. Accusations of loneliness, going behind his back and summoning Death, and now mindlessly kissing his forehead. . . Hob really has a skill at putting his foot in it.

He ends the lecture thirty minutes early. By then, it’s become painfully obvious that the last thing Hob cares about is the class. He’s stuttered over his words, started and stopped and restarted sentences dozens of times. He has even lost the focus of his thoughts too many times to count. His assistant tries helping, but there’s only so much Dot can do.

So he lets them go early and waits until everyone has filed out before gathering up his bag. No one stops him as he hurries across the campus, and he’s thankful for that. A heavy tightness settles in behind his breastbone. His feet feel heavy, plodding along the concrete. His fingers, his hands, tingle where he’s got them clenched into fists.

Hob forces himself to slow down, to take a deep breath, and relax. If Dream isn’t in the flat when Hob gets there, then, well, there’s really nothing Hob can do about it, is there? He doesn’t even know where Dream disappeared to while he was gone. Searching for him had done Hob no good.

But damn it, Hob wants Dream to be curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of tea and a good book, while the stereo plays something soft. He wants to walk through the door and see that small smile that he’s unknowingly loved since he first saw it. He wants to fall asleep with Dream in his arms as he has been, as he’s grown accustomed to.

Hob thinks he really should have realised it was more than mere friendship long before now.

Dream isn’t in the living room. The blanket is folded neatly, placed over the back of the couch, and all the books are on the shelves instead of being strewn about. The flat is quiet. Hob sets his bag on the floor and swallows harshly. His stomach churns, and he blinks rapidly to clear away the burning in his eyes.

He moves to sit on the couch, dropping to sit with a groan. His head drops of its own accord into the cradle of his hands. He closes his eyes against the sight of loneliness, but he can never forget the bitter cold truth of being alone again.

Letting his hands fall, he blows out a breath and pushes to his feet. Dream may be gone, but that doesn’t mean Hob can let his life fall apart around him. He did that when he lost Eleanor and the baby, when he lost Robyn. They were his greatest loves, weren’t they? They gave his life meaning when all he had was eternity. It made sense to lose control of himself when he no longer had them.

But he’s existed for over six hundred years without more of his Stranger, his Friend, than a handful of visits during which he talked over drinks. Hob will be just fine going on without—

The door swings open, and he stills as Dream spills into the flat. Balanced on one arm is a serving tray bearing two plates of food; his free hand carries a bottle of wine. One of the more expensive ones, if Hob recognises the label properly. He doesn’t say a word as Dream carefully makes his way into the kitchen to deposit his burdens on the counter.

When he finally turns toward the living room, Dream jolts. His eyes widen, lips parting, and he reaches for the edge of the counter. Hob rushes through an apology, one he barely hears himself say—he’s too focused on the fact that Dream is still here. Dream hasn’t vanished into the city once more. He’s here.

And he’s evidently brought dinner.

“Where did you get this?” he asks instead of thanking every god in every pantheon that Dream didn’t leave.

“I. . . I have never cooked a meal before, so I went downstairs to ask them to prepare something for us. You have spoken of the food quite highly.”

Hob pauses as his brain skids to a halt. What comes out is: “How did you pay for it?”

“That is a good question,” Dream says slowly, as if choosing his words wisely.

According to him, while he was gone for those almost-three days, a woman had assumed he was homeless and gave him some money for food. Her generosity is welcome, Hob is certainly thankful that a stranger cared enough, but he doubts that she gave Dream enough to cover the cost of the food and the bottle of wine. Dream explains it easily away: He’d asked the lady behind the bar what fare Hob normally requests. When he made that particular inquiry, Jasmine had rushed to assure him that the meal was covered.

“If it’s for Mister G, no cost.” She had beamed, Dream says, as if thrilled to do something nice for Hob.

“And the wine?”

Dream pauses, stares at the bottle for a moment, then shrugs. “She said it paired well with the meal.”

Interestingly, pink tints his cheeks. A curious sight, to be certain. However, all Hob can focus on is the fact Dream had ventured into the public on his own. It was only downstairs, not across the city, but he talked to a complete stranger.

For Hob.

He clearly wanted to do something nice even after Hob mucked things up by kissing his forehead this afternoon.

Before Hob can fall too deep into his thoughts, Dream moves the plates from the tray to the dining table. Hob shakes himself into action: He grabs silverware from the drawer and two wineglasses from the rack. The smile Dream gives him could stop the world.

It’s still a small thing, but there’s something different about it. It holds no amusement, no smug superiority, but something much more fragile. Beautiful.

Hope.

Hob can only marvel at it.

They don’t speak as they eat, but he hasn’t expected them to. Dream is a quiet person—has always been quiet and contemplative—and that hasn’t changed just because he’s near-mortal.

Hob ushers Dream from the kitchen when their plates are clear. “You grabbed dinner, it’s only fair I clean up.”

To his surprise, Dream doesn’t argue. He only smiles again and takes the wine to the living room. Hob blows out a breath meant to steady himself but does nothing of the sort. His thoughts are winding around themselves, no starts and no ends, no discernible path. Dream—is this—angry—confused—kiss—soft skin—Dream.

He somehow manages to finish washing the dishes and putting them away with no incidents. After drying his hands, Hob turns out the light and pads quietly into the other room where Dream sits on the couch. His knees are held to his chest with one arm, and he stares down at his bare toes. He hates socks, they’ve found. Etta James sings quietly on the stereo.

He looks up when Hob takes a seat at the empty end of the couch. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Hob swallows thickly and struggles to find words. “Thanks. For dinner, I mean.”

“Of course. You have fed me many times over the course of my being here. It was only fair to return the generosity.”

Oh.

“Friendship isn’t a tit-for-tat kind of thing, Dream,” Hob counters with a huff of laughter; the words he truly wants to utter stay locked behind his teeth.

“It was also my wish to care for you as you’ve cared for me. I know. . . I know it hasn’t been easy, for either of us, to adjust to my being powerless. I worry it has taken too much of your time and energy.”

What can Hob say to that? The truth could scare Dream away—they’ve only just become friends, after all. This is the most time they have ever spent in each other’s company. It has been fraught with tension and pain, worries and fears. Hell, Dream left for nearly three days because he was angry at something Hob did.

“I would rather go blind, boy,” Etta warbles, “than to see you walk away from me.”

“‘C’est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante’,” Hob whispers hoarsely after a long moment, barely able to maintain eye contact. He manages it through pure will—the desire to never take his gaze off the man before him. He needs Dream to know.

The truth has been centuries in the making, and Hob doesn’t want to hide it. If Dream leaves for this. . . Then at least Hob had any amount of time being honest.

Dream blinks slowly once, twice, then leans forward. It’s the subtlest shift, and his eyes are alit with something like hope. His lips part; Hob watches them form beautiful words: “Voudrais-tu m’avoir en tant que ta rose?”

There is nothing else Hob can say besides “Pour toujours.”

___________

C’est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante = It's the time you wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important (from "The Little Prince")

Voudrais-tu m’avoir en tant que ta rose? = Would you have me as your rose?

Pour toujours = Forever

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

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[whump-a-la-mode]

A hero is in a coma. Villain visits them every single day, loosing sleep, not eating, their life is now completely focused around the empty hospital room.

Until hero wakes up and notices how sick villain has become due to anxiety and not taking care of themselves. Caretaking?

This is such a cute ask!! There’s only a little caretaking, but as always I’d be happy to write some more ^^

To all non-Americans out there, I am so sorry for using our weird 12 hour clock in this piece

CW//Comas, medical settings, just some horrible self care, mentions of explosions, bad hygiene, sleep deprivation, low self esteem, blaming self, strong language

“How are they doing?”

The voice alone was enough to make Doctor jump, spinning on their heels with such quickness that their shoes squealed on the tiled hospital floor.

Oh. It was just Villain.

Just Villain. It was a ridiculous thought to have, and they were well aware of that fact. Only a few short weeks ago, the name would have been enough to make any well-minded civilian tremble. It was bad enough, to hear it spoken on the news. Worse, to hear it not coming from a television-- in some cases, that name was all the warning one was given, before a terrible fate befell them. A nameless causality in the never-ending battle of good and evil.

But, now, there was no terror associated with it.

Most hospitals, Doctor was well aware, were fortunate enough that villains did not often pass through their doors. When they did, in the best cases, it was to seek treatment. In the worst cases, they had far more destructive intentions.

Their hospital, however, was an exception. There is a saying, that one can get used to anything, and with their experience, they now believed it to be more than true.

Doctor sighed, letting their shoulders fall.

“Visiting hours are over, Villain. You need to go home.”

The villain’s eyes widened, flickering momentarily to the nearest clock. In fact, it was past the end of visiting hours. Well past. Night rounds were about to begin, even.

It was simply so easy to forget Villain, hunched over in their little plastic chair.

Especially with those big, pathetic eyes with which they regarded Doctor.

“I can’t leave.” They pleaded. “Not yet. Can’t I stay just another hour?”

“No, Villain. We’ve been over this. You can come back tomorrow, bright and early, right at seven.”

“But it’s eleven, now! That’s eight hours. Eight hours they’ll be alone.”

“Not alone.” Doctor bit their lower lip. They knew full well that the person before them could render them to a charred corpse in mere seconds, if they so wished. Their tense, skipping heartbeat wouldn’t let them forget it. But, there was no malice in their eyes. Not an ounce. Only that terrible, pitiful sorrow. The sorrow that never seemed to leave them. “There’s people here, all night. A whole medical staff. If anything happens, they won’t be alone. I promise.”

Villain’s lip quivered. Weren’t they supposed to be dangerous?

“You’re sure I can’t stay? Just another hour?”

“I’m sure.”

“O-Okay.” The villain reached into their shoulder bag, and, for a moment, Doctor nearly pressed the nearest panic alarm. Yet, they withdrew no weapon. Instead, Villain took a small, spiral-bound notebook in hand, offering it. “Here are my notes. Um, just so you know. What they did today.”

Doctor’s gaze downcast to the paper. They already had three of these, piled on their desk. Filled to the brim. This one had only recently been started.

The page the notebook was turned to displayed the same thing as all the rest: Impeccably neat handwriting, dividing the page into half hour blocks. In each, letters of equal quality described the patient’s condition, down to the most minute detail.

3:30 - Minor twitching of the eyelids accompanied by singular irregular heartbeat.

4:00 - No abnormalities.

4:30 - Twitching of left index finger.

5:00 - Abnormal breath at around 5:12.

It was the best-kept record of a comatose patient’s condition that Doctor had ever seen. Even if it wasn’t exactly helpful, with how repetitive the patient’s movements tended to be, it was downright impressive.

“Thank you, Villain. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you at seven?”

“Is there any chance I could come in earlier than that?”

“No. I’m sorry. Visiting hours start at seven.”

“I’m quiet. You know I’m quiet. I won’t be a bother to anybody.”

“I know, Villain. If...” They knew they needed to say something, or this argument would continue all night long. “If anything happens, we have your number on file. I’ll call you myself.”

“Really?” Their eyes widened. “You promise?”

“I promise. Now, you need to go home.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t hide in the bathroom and try to stay late this time?”

“You saw?”

“Everyone saw, Villain. Now, you’ve gotta skedaddle.”

The villain nodded hesitantly, looking to their shoes as they turned, moving down the hallway. As they left, Doctor could not help but mutter in their wake:

“And get some rest.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Six weeks.

Those two words echoed hollowly in Villain’s mind as they plodded along the damp sidewalk, lit only by the dewy echoes of streetlights overhead. The hour was late enough, and the city tired enough, that the streets were nearly deserted-- a state they were in so very rarely.

Their henchmen had spoken to them so many times, lecturing them that moving through the city’s depths, alone and unprotected, was terribly dangerous. Any hero, or any vigilante too cocky for their own good, could try their luck in an ambush.

But, Villain could hardly bring themself to care.

Six weeks.

That was all they cared about.

Six weeks since Hero had moved. Six weeks since they’d spoken, since they’d awoken. Exactly six, now.

Exactly six weeks since...

Villain’s hands clenched to fists at their sides, overgrown nails digging into the meat of their palms.

Since they’d made the biggest mistake of their life. Since the two sworn nemeses, Hero and Villain, light and dark, good and evil, had had their final battle. An industrial sabotage gone wrong.

They should have known better! Better than to use their pyrokenisis in an oil refinery.

But, that hadn’t. They hadn’t been thinking. They never thought! They were so stupid, so reckless, so careless...

Villain’s ears still rung from the explosion.

Their injuries meant nothing, even as they still throbbed. No. Because, for the last six weeks, they had been awake. Moving. Talking.

Hero hadn’t been so lucky.

When they at last arrived at their HQ, the halls were silent. Life existed only in the form of a scattering of guards, nodding their respects, but making no other gestures.

It was with weary legs that Villain ascended to their bedroom. They hardly noticed its state-- they’d grown used to the scatterings of clothes and papers. Instead, upon opening the door, their eyes snapped to the bed.

More specifically, the item upon it. They rushed to it, yanking it off the mussed blankets.

A book. A note, upon its cover.

“Went to bed before I could give this to you. It’s that book you wanted - Henchman”

Villain removed the note, far more interested in the cover it hid.

A Neurologist’s Guide to Chronic Vegetative States

There were more than enough pages within to last them until sunrise; until visiting hours at last recommenced.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

At 5:40, the sun began its ascent, bathing the sky in a dull hue of blue.

When six o’ clock came, the first rays of light could be seen, flashing over the horizon.

With the strike of 6:10, Villain placed down their book. They were only around halfway through-- wandering eyes and brief minutes of dozing lowering the speed at which their foggy mind could process the medical textbook.

They would have more than enough time to read, the next night. The book didn’t matter. What mattered was that visiting hours would commence in 50 minutes, exactly.

Twenty minutes to walk to the hospital. Meaning that, to get there early, they needed to leave in fifteen.

Rubbing sleep from their eyes, Villain rose from their chair, knees popping and cracking all the way to the bedroom door. Quickly, they changed into the cleanest clothes they could find, if only for the sake of appearances, before heading out.

Showering could wait. Showers took time, time that could be spend watching. Reading. Taking notes.

Helping. Doing anything, anything they could to help.

Emerging into the hallway, they startled a moment. The lights had already been turned on, despite the fact that their henchmen never awoke this early. Perhaps they had simply forgotten to turn them off the night prior.

Yet, there were noises, from downstairs.

There was no fear left in their body to feel. Justifications were quickly made, and they ran down the stairs.

Entering the kitchen, a scent hit Villain, forceful as a gust of wind. The scent of food-- warm and fresh and garnished with garlic.

Before the stove, Henchman stood. Out of all those Villain employed, Henchman was the least likely to be awake at such an hour. Often, they dragged themself from bed well after ten.

Yet, here they stood, flipping a pancake in a skillet.

“Hey, boss.” Their henchman turned, a grin glimmering upon their face. “I’m almost done here. Get yourself something to drink.”

Villain blinked.

“What... are you doing?”

“Making breakfast? I thought that’d be pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But... Why? You never eat breakfast.”

“Yeah. It’s not for me. ‘s for you, boss.”

They shook their head, glancing at the clock. 6:17.

“I’m not hungry. Besides, I really need to get going.”

“Boss.” There was an endeared, yet frustrated, tone to the voice. “When was the last time you ate?”

“You made me eat a granola bar yesterday.”

“And the day before that, you didn’t eat anything. So, you’re eating breakfast, if I have to shove it down your throat.”

They clenched their hands to fists.

“I don’t have time for this! Visiting hours are going to start soon. I need to be there.”

“No. You need to eat. Then you can go to the hospital.”

“You don’t get to decide that. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Boss.” Henchman slid the pancake onto a plate before deftly stepping between their boss and the front door. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you look like hell. I know you haven’t been sleeping. Everyone knows it. If you keep acting like this, you’re going to be the one in a hospital bed.”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Maybe that’s what I deserve. Now, fuck off. Get someone else to eat your damn pancakes.”

With those words, and furious footsteps, they emerged onto the sidewalk outside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Receptionist arrived at their desk, there was already a patron, sitting in their waiting room.

A few short weeks ago, such would have been unusual. While other parts of the hospital were occupied day and night, the appointments handled by this room did not begin until the hospital actually opened-- right at seven.

Now, though, there was nothing strange about it.

Before they could so much as sit down, Villain was already moving towards them.

Receptionist could not help but note their appearance.

Working in a hospital, they had long since grown used to seeing the sick and injured. And yet, there was something particularly distressing about this case.

They supposed, it was because they had seen it happen. Usually, when patients arrived at the hospital, it was because they could no longer manage their own conditions. Their bodies were in shambles. They showed up in their damaged states.

Villain, on the other hand, had first appeared to the waiting room is relatively good health.

Then, they had begun to appear tired.

And thin.

Now, their appearance matched that of the comatose patient that they were here to see. Skin clung taught about their cheekbones, their flesh pale and eyes glazed over. Most semblances of hygiene had been abandoned entirely; some parts of their hair had even begun to mat, and dirt clung to them like caked and cracked makeup.

But, there was something else in their eyes. The sheer essence of undying compassion.

It was that alone that prevented Receptionist from sending them away.

Villain had no need to speak. As soon as they had time to sit, the hospital employee had paged the proper floor-- a sequence of buttons that had quickly become muscle memory.

“You can go up, now.” They spoke. With a wearied nod, Villain moved to begin their ceaseless watch.

Neither of them could have guessed that, an hour later, the unthinkable would come true.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

When Hero awoke, it was to the sound of a pencil, scratching at paper.

The world filled in with a terrible, exhaustion tedium. Above them, blurs of white and grey turned to a sterile, white tile, while the world about solidified to four pale, beige walls.

A hospital. They’d been in enough to recognize as such, with just how clumsy their teammates tended to be.

But why were they here, now...? Who had gotten hurt, this time? They couldn’t quite remember.

Rolling onto their side, the question was quickly answered.

Villain appeared to be on death’s doorstep, about to press the doorbell. Matted hair clung to their neck, eyes drooping and skin appearing as though there was no blood beneath it at all.

At the very least, they had made it to the hospital before suffering any serious damage.

Wait.

It was only then that Hero realized who exactly was in the room’s hospital bed.

[lsvdw-blog]

Okay

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst (with a happy ending); General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Part I and II! This almost had an alternate ending, (it's still sitting in my WIPS) but I couldn't do them like that 😅 it starts off angsty, but the happy ending is there 😊 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test... or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and whispers, “I cannot believe I’m about to do this.”

She grabs her stuff and begins walking to a less busy part of the gates area. Ethan is too stunned to move for a moment. She looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Right!” and speedwalks after her.

She stands with her suitcase in front of her, arms crossed, waiting for him to start speaking.

He runs his hand through his hair, clears his throat, and locks eyes with her.

“There are no excuses for my actions, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know that’s an out people utilize, but in this case, it’s true. You know about my mother abandoning my father and I when I was a child, but what I have not shared is that her leaving absolutely destroyed my father. He waited and waited for her return, all the while putting on a brave face for me, and continuing to love her."

He notices that her arms have fallen back to her sides.

"What he did not know was that I could hear him crying at night, that I would catch him wistfully looking at her pictures, and overhear him leaving her voicemails begging her to come home. Watching him fall apart, while I couldn’t do anything, broke my heart and I promised myself I would never let myself be in the same position. ”

Her eyes have slightly softened now too and it’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

“My father says that he and my mother had a great relationship in the beginning. Then a few years down the road, it started to change. He told me that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes it just isn’t enough, because if it was, she wouldn’t have left. Therefore, to ensure that I wouldn’t be left heartbroken again, I closed myself off to anyone and everyone.”

He can feel the tears gathering slowly in his eyes and he tentatively reaches for her hands.

“Until I met you. You have been so incredibly patient, supportive, and understanding with me; I see and feel it everyday. Despite that, I am still afraid. Afraid that one day, you will lose your patience with me or that you will see what my mother, the one person who was supposed to love me most in the world, saw, and leave as well and I’ll be left shattered, begging you to come back to me.”

She begins to try and say something, but Ethan continues.

“I know you are not my mother and that I am not my father. But the images of him in the first few months after she left are ingrained and still haunt me.”

He’s gripping her hands tightly now and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“I do not want to make the same mistakes as my parents: that is what I meant. You, and we, are not a mistake. I know we can, will, do better. I completely misspoke the other night and even Jenner has been acutely avoiding me since then.”

She laughs lightly and it gives Ethan the strength to blink away his tears.

“I am so incredibly sorry for my words and for hurting you. I will spend however long and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

He rests his forehead against hers and whispers, "There are not enough words for me to convey my gratitude in having you in my life. You deserve better and I will do my utmost to be better. Forgive me, baby.”

She serenely scans his face and his heart begins to pound so loudly, that he wonders if she can hear it too.

She brings one hand to wrap around the back of his neck and her eyes flutter closed. She gives a small nod and whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She pulls back far enough to look in his cerulean eyes and nods again. He breaks out into a large grin and sweeps her up into his arms, spinning her around. She laughs in surprise and Ethan thinks it's the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

He sets her back down and kisses her tenderly, languidly. He pulls away with great effort and takes her plane ticket.

“Now that you won’t be needing this anymore, how about we go back to my place?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, as he’s already moving to collect her things. She tugs on his hand and he looks up. When their eyes connect, she places one hand on his cheek.

“I know this is difficult for you. So thank you. For your apology, for opening up to me… for trying.”

He leans into her touch and places a sweet kiss to her palm.

“For you, I am always willing to try.”

She beams at him as he places a soft kiss to her temple and they walk out of the airport, hand in hand.

[annieharkness]

Glimpses: Part 6 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The Garden

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Hello there and sorry for the long wait! I wanted to move even further in the story but since this part already has 2.5k, I felt like it would be okay for me to end it here and continue with a new one tomorrow (that I plan to post within the next 2 days). It’s 2.40am, so, as always, if you find any mistakes - keep them :) 

_____________________________________________________________________________

You stare at you screen, mouth gasping wide open. Other than breathing, you don’t feel like you are capable of doing anything at all. Your phone shuts off again and you see yourself in the reflection of the now black screen, a look of disbelief plastered all across your face.

You look at the picture again and admire the breakfast contents for a short while before laying the phone aside to think of a proper response. People always say that you are supposed to wait for a little while, stay mysterious, seem unavailable. But thats just not who you are. She is thinking about you.

Just last week you had read an article about this phenomena and it being a new, additional love language. „This made me think of you“ is apparently the new way of telling someone you like them. Just as that thought crosses your head, you remember Alex is probably still on her phone right now and you should hit her with the news and figure out a good response together. She picks up the call immediately.

“Sweetheart!“ She greets you with a beaming smile, as always. “What’s up?“

“She texted.“ You say and wait for her response.

“Who?“, god, you can’t with this girl sometimes. Why is she so slow? “KATHRYN. She finally texted me!“ You exclaim in excitement, a little too loud.

Alex looks at you with wide eyes, frowning, as she scrunches up her nose trying to comprehend what you just said. “Oh… Ooooh. OH.“

“Exactly…“, you say and smile about her antics. “What are we gonna do now? You gotta tell me because I certainly don’t know!!“

Alex shakes her head. “Well, first of all, you gotta let me know what exactly she said in her message?“

She was right, you totally forgot, putting her on hold, you take a screenshot and shoot it her way. “It’s actually nothing special but somehow it’s very cute at the same time and I really need us to find the BEST response to that.“

The next few minutes consist of Alex pitching short puns to you, cute phrases and just simple acknowledgements, but nothing seems to fit. Especially since you yourself haven’t decided yet if you wanna start of flirty or not. You end up choosing the safest option and type „This looks beautiful! Hope you enjoy! xx Y/N.“ as a response. You aren’t quite please with it but, at the same time, you don’t wanna rush into things as long as you don’t know what was happening.

For a few minutes, you talk to Alex and ask her about her day and all, until she has to pick up dinner for her people - it’s Thursday after all and Thursday nights are family nights. She hits you with a “Go get her, tiger!“ and laughs at your face before she hangs up the phone.

Not expecting a reply from Kathryn anytime soon, you toss your phone on the sheets and lie down on your back to look at the ceiling that is plastered in those fluorescent stick on glow stars - a childhood sin. Just as you are about to close your eyes, the phone lights up again.

“Thanks :-) Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. Lot’s of work related stress. You wanna come over and have a glass of wine in my garden on Saturday.“

Saturday… What was Saturday? You know very well Kathryn has an event going on this Saturday, but maybe you were just wrong. Excited you shoot her a quick response, letting her know it’s all fine and that, of course, you would like to see her again.

Unsure if it is a date or a casual hang out, you decide to already start planning an outfit in your head - just in case it is a date after all - as you walk downstairs to join your mom for lunch.

Saturday morning went by way too slowly as you sort through the possible outfits you came up with. You had yelled at Alex right after having lunch with your mom and the both of you shot outfit ideas back and forth all Friday before you sat down and watched The Goonies with your mom. It’s one of your comfort movies and you were really glad your mom chose it because that meant you didn’t have to concentrate on something new.

She still doesn’t know about the „you and Kathryn“, but not because you don’t trust her enough or anything. No, simply because you don’t know what exactly is happening - so why worry her? The whole situation is weird to talk about with Alex, why would you make it worse by including your mom.

Still, you decided to not lie to her and actually told her that you’ve recently met someone new and you are spending at least Saturday with her. It felt only fair to let her know. Your mother was smart enough not to ask any further questions, though. Maybe she realized that it was still a touchy topic for you - who knows.

You finally decide on what to wear and put on your favorite summer dress. It’s black, flow-y and has sun flowers all over. You don’t really know how long you’ll stay, so you pick out the blazer Kathryn loved last weekend, as well. Sighting, you find your way to the bathroom where you  loosely tame your hair and put on some light make up. Just like last time you’re going for casual but not too casual. You look at yourself and smile. This dress really does make you feel beautiful!

A notification chimes through the room - it’s Alex reminding you that it’s about time to go outside so Kathryn’s driver can pick you up. You really didn’t want to have him drive you, but she insisted and since you were invited over for wine anyway, it really didn’t make any sense to take your car in the first place - especially since you’ll have to get home somehow, preferably tonight.

The driver is already there as you leave the house after kissing your mom on the cheek as you passed her on your way through he kitchen. “Good Afternoon, Miss Y/LN“, he greets you politely, as you take a seat in the back of the car.

The ride isn’t too long and you swore to yourself you would pay attention where you were going but the nervousness took over and so you’re spending the time on your phone, texting Alex and making sure your make up is okay and your hair is nicely framing your face.

Kathryn’s driver looks at you through the rear mirror: “Your first time over at Kathryn’s, hm?“

You look up and your eyes meet for a short second as you nod. “Don’t be intimidated by her. She is the nicest person I’ve ever worked for. You’re gonna love her.“ If only he knew. It actually makes you feel better, though. You don’t want to admit it, but you are very much intimidated by Kathryn and can’t wait for the first nervousness to wash down once again.

As you drive up to the house, it looks exactly like what you expected it to look like, while, at the same time, it looks completely different. She lives in the Hollywood Hills, but not where all the famous pop stars live. Her house is surrounded by plants. It looks calm, secure even and not at all like an actress lives in it. The yellow walls are welcoming and warm and the lack of modern architecture is balm for your soul.

The driver offers to open the door for you but you decline and, right as you step out of the car, the front door opens. Kathryn looks at you with the happiest face and opens her arms video to wrap you up in a big hug. “Y/N! I’m so glad you made it! Welcome!“

She looks at her driver. “Thank you for bringing her, Peter! I’ll see you later. Agnes will let you know when we have to leave, please take some time to yourself until then.“ Peter nods and starts the engine.

You look at Kathryn. Her eyelashes are highlighted by the slightest hint of mascara while the rest of her face appears to be completely natural. She is so beautiful. You’re close enough to her to be able to tell she is indeed not wearing any make up. Her hair is halfway up, flowing over her shoulders, and she is wearing a beautiful orange blouse, similar to one she had worn in one of her shows before, combined with blue jeans.

Even as you turn around, her lips don't lose their smile and she puts a hand on your lower back as she leads you into the house. You enter a long hallways that leads straight into a beautiful garden, much bigger than what you had expected. In one corner, there is a seating arrangement consisting of a seemingly quite comfortable corner couch and a wooden table. The rest of the garden is open and full of bushes and trees and you can’t even tell where it ends. A wine bottle in an ice bucket is already waiting for you, accompanied by two glasses, one on each side of the couch. “I like your dress, Y/N.“ Your breath hitches since a compliment was the last thing you would’ve expected.

“Thank you!“, you say with a bright smile, as you blush slightly which doesn’t go unnoticed by her. 

She winks at you, “Always, hon.“

Right as you are seated and she gets comfortable on the couch after filling your glasses, the door to the garden opens and a woman with long red hair dressed in all black, who is wearing a headset as she is holding a clipboard, walks towards the table. Her hair, loosely braided and tossed over one shoulder, is decorated by a pair of big sunglasses that are sitting on top of her head. She looks stressed as she looks up from her clipboard.

“Kathryn! I am sorry to interrupt, but I just need to let you know stylists are gonna be here in maximum three hours. You have to eat something before that.” Looking at the wine on the table, she adds: “Do you want me to order pizza or anything for you guys?“

You look back and forth between the two of them as you are trying to figure out who that woman is and what exactly they are talking about. Kathryn nods to every word that’s being said, completely focused on the woman. “Yes, Agnes, you’re right. Thank you. Please order the usual, we will share.“ 

She shoots you a smile. “You trust me?“ You nod eagerly, and you mean it, even though you are quite picky when it comes to food. Agnes looks at you and back to Kathryn before excusing herself with a polite smile. “Three hours, Kathryn, MAX.“

“Oh SHUSH.“, Kathryn laughs wholeheartedly as she picks up her glass of wine, prompting you to pick up yours as well. “Let me say something: I am very glad you accepted today’s invitation and I am sorry it’s gonna be stressful, but I’m sure it’ll be worth it and you’ll have a great time.“

You look at her confused. “Great… time?“ Obviously you would be having a great time while hanging with Kathryn, but the way she phrases it sounds like something other than sitting in the garden is happening.

“Did I… not tell you?“ Kathryn sets down her drink and scans you with worried eyes.

Your stomach drops for a moment as you shake your head slowly. “Oh silly me! Listen, I have been so busy ever since we’ve met. I got cast for a new movie had to meet with different producers all week and then they told me to attend the awards this weekend, which I thought were only held digitally and I must have totally forgotten to let you know that that was a thing. Agnes and Jennifer do a really good job at organizing things for me, but sometimes“, she taps her head, “this old friend is not doing it anymore.“

She looks really sorry and you have to admit you are very stressed right now and actually you feel like you might panic any moment, but just as you are about to worry too much, she places a hand on your forearm. “I would very much enjoy just spending three hours with you while I enjoy what was supposed to be my day off, but I would also like to take you to these MTV movie awards with me tonight, I you want to tag along.“

You are flashed by the offer and immediately want to say yes, but remember what you are wearing. “But… Kathryn.. I can’t go looking like THIS.“ She looks you up and down, her hand still placed on your arm, and you just know she wants to tell you again that you are beautiful, you can see it in her eyes, in the way she smiles at you. She doesn’t though and that makes you doubt that this could ever be more than just a hangout.

Your thoughts are immediately washed away, as a warm smile is playing around her lips. “Don’t worry about that, dear. After you told me that you are in the middle of your studies and you live alone with your mom, I figured fancy evening wear might not be something that you have currently lying around just like that. So.. we figured something out for you as well.“

She moves her hand over your arm and takes your hand in hers. “You don’t have to come, though, if you don’t feel like it. Don’t worry! I didn’t buy anything. I borrowed them from one of those fancy shops.“ - she didn’t. But you don’t need to know that.

Even though the thought of attending an event like that gives you anxiety, you already know what you want to do and softly squeeze her hand as you nod while a small smile creeps onto your face. “I would love to, Kathryn! Thank you for inviting me.“

It’s time to let go of her hand, but she doesn’t seem like she wants the connection to stop just yet, so, obviously, you don’t end it, either. Instead, you lock eyes with her and stay in position for as long as she allows you to. You don’t know how much time has passed until you catch yourself as your eyes dart down to her lips after she sticked her tongue out for a split second to moisten them.

For a short moment, you feel like Kathryn is getting nervous but this can’t be, can it? To loosen the tension that has built up, you laugh and let go of her hand to grab your drink again. “Let’s raise these glasses to a great night, shall we?“

She joins in and locks eyes with you once again, a sheepish grin on her face, while she slightly raises one of her eyebrows. “Well… I’m certainly glad you’re here with me tonight.“

[adorerdraco]

Distractions and O.W.L.S ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: You start neglecting yourself and Draco when you begin stressing for O.W.L.S. The studying finally took its toll on you that landed you in the hospital wing but Draco helps you end the night on a good note. 

Warnings and Perks: being stressed, over studying, fainting ! and corniness

Words: 2K (sorry for any mistakes its 3 AM !!!!!)

A/N: omg i am currently working on some requests and on Healing Heart 4, but i’ve had this scenario stuck in my head all night bc i was listening to a slowed down version of stuff we did from UP and so i thought id share it with everyone since i havent posted in like 2 days <3 do not own gif but pretend that you and Dracoooo <3

It was the beginning of June, weeks away from O.W.L.S, which meant weeks away from another ending of a school year at Hogwarts. What bothered you the most wasn’t the fact that you had homework piled up to the ceilings, or that Snape has been snapping at you all week and took away 5 house points from you, or that you were drowning in a sea of textbooks and notes that you kept studying for your upcoming exams; it was the fact that you had barely seen Draco in nearly two weeks. You were so busy with schoolwork and focused on getting outstanding marks, you hadn’t even realized you were neglecting your own boyfriend. 

Of course, the two of you would find each other in the Great Hall during breakfast and you’d give him a quick hello and goodbye kiss faster than he could even register what was happening and by the time he did, you were already out the door and rushing towards your first class. At this point, you were acting like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, always frantic and in a rush. Your hair was wild and untamed, you had dark bags under your eyes from the all-nighters you were pulling, your robes and clothes underneath were in disarray and wrinkled.

To make it worse, you never let Draco study with you. He constantly asked and you always gave him the same answer.

“If I study with you, I’ll never get anything done.”

Which was true. He was very distracting with his quiet jokes in the library, or when he would look up at you with his sparkling gray eyes when you would try to ask him a question that just flew from your mind at the sight, or smile at you with a wide toothy grin that lit up the room when you got sidetracked and talked to him, or the way he rested his hand on your thigh when he would sit beside you while you quietly read or wrote but the only thing you could focus on was his fiery touch. Really, it wasn’t him who would distract you; it was you who distracted yourself with him. And that was evident when you tried to remember everything you’ve learned in the past school term and came up blank because for some reason your brain only retained information and memories that contained Draco throughout the past year. 

So you figured a little time away from him wouldn’t hurt. Because if you didn’t pass these O.W.L.S, you felt like everyone would be disappointed in you, especially yourself. So you locked yourself away in your dorm and crammed and jam-packed your brain with information until you eventually passed out hunched over a book with drool blurring the ink on your pages. You avoided the library for studying, knowing Draco would go looking for you or Madam Pince would distract you halfway through your note taking to kick you out for the night.

Mornings always came the same, you waking up randomly over your desk a few minutes before breakfast and changing into a new pair of robes as quickly as you could while trying your best to smooth your hair down with your hands. This morning was different, however. You woke up to one of your roommates shaking you violently while she spoke your name loudly above you, but it sounded distant. You shot up in a hot flash, wiping your mouth of any saliva and groaning when you started to feel the pounding in your head that seemed to shake up your whole brain. “Thank Merlin, you’re awake!” Your roommate exclaimed in relief. “You looked dead, honestly. But class is starting in twenty and you’ve missed breakfast.”

“Twenty?” you frown, letting your swelling head fall into your hands. “I don’t want to deal with Snape right now, I feel awful.”

“I’m going to try to say this as nice as possible,” she sighs, placing a hand on your shoulder, “but it shows.”

“Thanks,” you scowl. You try to get up from your chair but gasp in pain as your muscles cramp at the movement like a rickety old man. 

“Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” she suggests, trying to help you up but you shoo her. 

“No, I’m fine,” you rush to interject. “I will not be missing Potions, no.”

She gave you a shrug, backing away in defeat as she let you rush to change into new robes and attempt to brush down the matted mess that’s supposed to be your hair but gave up halfway through and threw it into an updo. The headache was not a good combination with the scalp pain from combing out knots. Your roommate waited for you with pitied eyes, following closely behind you as you hurried out of the room and towards the exit. 

You sped walked out with her but didn’t see the mop of platinum blond that was waiting for you outside the entrance of the common room. You had zero awareness of his presence until his hand had reached out to hold onto your wrist, stopping your near sprint towards the class. Your roommate stopped too, eyeing the two of you and the look on the Slytherin’s face before she continued walking. 

“What? Draco, let go,” you move away from him and he quickly drops your arm. “I’m going to be late.”

You began to walk away from him, but he stepped in front of you, stopping you again.

“Why weren’t you at breakfast?”

“I overslept,” you answered gruffly. “Now, move! If I’m late, Snape will have my head on a stick.”

“Y/N, you need to slow down,” he frowns, “all this studying and rushing around everywhere is going to land you in the hospital wing. You look sick already, I’m worried.”

“I’m not sick!” You huff, throwing your head back in irritation. “If you really cared about me, you’d let me go to class instead of insulting me.”

“I’m not insulting you. Am I so terrible to tell you that you look like you’re about to pass out any second?”

“Yes, you are terrible,” you sneer, the pounding in your head was getting stronger each passing second. “Instead of-”

Your train of thought was violently stopped in its angry tracks, you stumble back and begin blinking hard at the spots that quickly started to dot your vision. Your hand instinctively reached out towards Draco, which he grabbed and hurriedly darted forward towards you, gripping onto you before you could meet the ground, your vision going black and your consciousness out the door.

Draco felt himself begin to panic. He promptly began to feel guilty, feeling like it was his fault that you even fainted in the first place because of the argument he had accidentally started.

He gathered you up in his arms, one arm sliding under your knees and the other under your neck as he swiftly picked you up and began his frantic journey towards the hospital wing.

When he got you to Madam Pomfrey, she instructed him to set you down on one of the beds and kicked him out of the room while she started her treatment. His heart was beating so fast, he wanted nothing more than to stay by your side so he halfheartedly threatened her with his father and she ended up letting him stay with a deep sigh while he stood idly by your bed. When Madam Pomfrey was done, she left the two of you alone. Draco wasted no time in sitting at the foot of your bed, his hand finding its way into your cold one that laid limply beside you. He watched your sleeping figure with a relief as he noticed that whatever Pomfrey gave you had speedily began to affect you. Your skin no longer looked ghastly and dull, but healthy again and tinged with pink. The dark circles underneath your eyes had faded just a little bit, leaving only slight bags as you finally slept. 

He waited maybe 12 hours for you to wake up. After missing his first class, he had decided to go to the rest of his classes as Madam Pomfrey swore to him up and down that you would not wake up any earlier. He begrudgingly obliged and skipped all his meals instead to spend his short free time with you. When his final class ended, he almost ran back to the hospital wing. He occupied the rest of his time with a book he had found thrown somewhere around the room. The book was long forgotten the second he felt your hand twitch and your body begin to stir, your tired e/c’s looking around the room in confusion before landing on him. He scooted himself closer to you, brushing a loose strand of hair out of your face as he looked at you with pure concern. It was the same look he had when he confronted you earlier and with that one look, you were able to recall everything that had happened before your collapse.

“I’m sorry I said you’re terrible,” you croak out sadly, your hand wrapping around his wrist and squeezing it gently.

“I’m sorry I made you faint,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“That was my own fault,” you chortle, “but I feel really good. I know I fainted and all, but I feel much better with whatever Madam Pomfrey gave me.”

“I can tell,” he smiles, moving himself a little back as you sat up with a newfound strength. “She said you can leave when you wake up.”

“Good, now help me out of this bed.”

Draco took your hand and you hopped out of bed excitedly, turning towards him and giving him a tight hug that he returned twice as hard.

“If you’re not too tired, can I show you something?” He asks from above you, his arms still wrapped strongly around you.

“Yes, please,” you answer with a nod against his chest.

Draco steps away from you before taking your hand and walking the two of you out of the hospital wing and towards the stairs that led to the astronomy tower. When you reached the top, huffing, and puffing, he asked you again if you were okay to which you answered with an eager nod.

"Tonight is a blood moon,” he smiles, pointing up towards the very large orange and reddish moon in the starry night sky. It shone brightly but still gave off little light in its wake, the astronomy tower was almost dark, but you still managed to see the blond perfectly, he was watching you with a happy and loving glint in his eyes that you were able to notice. “I was planning on asking you to see it with me tonight, but we kind of ended up elsewhere.”

You threw yourself into his arms, your face buried deep in his robes and the heat radiating off his chest warmed you up in the comfiest way.

“You’re the best, Dray,” you mumble into the cloth of his robes, the clothing vibrating underneath you as he chuckled. You pulled away and gazed up at him, smiling when he placed a kiss on your forehead.

The two of you unknowingly began to sway back in forth in each other’s arms, his hands resting on your lower back while yours were looped loosely around the back of his neck.

“You scared me today,” he begins quietly, “and every day since you’ve started your studying.”

“I know,” you frown, “I’m sorry.”

“Promise me you’ll stop overworking yourself,” he says softly. “I know you’re scared you’ll fail, but I promise you won’t. You’re one of the smartest people I know and I know you’ll get outstanding marks on everything.”

“You think so?” you ask hopefully, your eyes trained on the burnt orange moon as you took in his words.

“I know so.”

A few more minutes of silence pass by, your head now leaning against his chest as the two of you still danced silently. And as if he read your mind, Draco began humming a soft and off-pitch rendition of Claire de Lune. You would laugh every time he forgot a note and would go silent for a moment before backtracking and humming it correctly.

You don’t know how long the two of you stayed up there dancing slowly in each other’s arms with Draco trying his best to hum the top classics of the classical’s, his lips finding yours every now and then to kiss you longingly and tenderly, but one thing was for sure; it was bliss. 

Maybe distracting yourself with Draco wasn’t such a bad thing.

[crispyjenkins]

Secretly married obiwan x quinlan

(thank you all so much for your patience on this one! still figuring out my routine around my family and who i am as a person, but prompts are back to sunday and monday uploads!

i guess i just like the idea of quinlan and obi-wan gettin’ hitched really young? it certainly sounds like smth quinlan would do. HOWEVER can you just imagine them not getting into a relationship until the clone wars? (ノ*´◡`) maybe they’ve been dancing around it since they were padawans and finally decide to just say fuck it like anidala. 

that is not this story.)

  The greatest injustice of it all is that Quinlan and Master Tholme had just left the Temple when the council had sent him and Qui-Gon to Melida/Daan, just as Quinlan had not been there when Obi-Wan had been sent to the Agricorp. Quinlan had almost strangled him for that, when he’d shown back up from Bandomeer trailing behind his new master, and, honestly, Obi-Wan hadn’t blamed him.

  When the contingent of Jedi and their padawans arrive in the capital city of Zehava to help negotiate with Neild and the Young, Quinlan hugs him instead. 

  And Obi-Wan hasn’t eaten properly in weeks, he’s been sleeping in the sewers, and Cerasi’s blood is still caked under his fingernails, and Quinlan nearly knocks him over with the force of their collision. He wraps Obi-Wan up so tight it almost feels like they’d never even left the créche — he’s always felt more like home than the Temple, anyways.

  “Let’s not do that again,” Quinlan says, surprisingly in control of his voice for how wrecked he’d sounded after Bandomeer.

  With shaking hands, Obi-Wan hugs him back, twisting his fingers into the back of Quinlan’s robes until he can’t feel them anymore. “I’ll say goodbye properly, next time,” he promises hoarsely, feeling Master Qui-Gon prod at his mind in concern before Master Tholme leads him away. 

  Quinlan makes a distressed noise and hugs him tighter. “Or you could stop kriffing almost getting killed every mission, yeah? I swear by the Maker that if Master Yoda has to sit me down one more time to ‘break the news’ to me that you've gone awol, I’m going to throw you into a sarlacc.”

  Obi-Wan does suppose it’s a little unfair to do this to his friends nearly every time he leaves the Temple, but with a galaxy so big and so full of need, he knows he can’t promise that. 

  So he presses his forehead into Quinlan’s collarbone, releasing his hands just long enough to tuck himself into Quinlan’s robes instead, and nods against him anyways. “You’d have to find a sarlacc first, Quin,” he says, like making a joke of it will excuse that he’d almost gone and left Quinlan alone again. 

  “Don’t worry, I’ll just stick you on a desert planet, and with your luck, the sarlacc will find you.”

-

  The greatest injustice of it all is that Obi-Wan knows before Qui-Gon even opens his mouth what he’s going to say. No one ever looks at someone like that with good news.

  They excuse him from his last lesson so he can find a private meditation room to process, but Obi-Wan goes to Master Tholme’s apartment instead. He leaves the bedroom doors closed, the quartermaster will send someone to sort through their belongings later, and he settles on Quinlan’s meditation stool in the main room. He knows Quinlan has more belongings than is typically appropriate of a Jedi, but Tholme keeps the living spaces clean and bare, neutral colours blurring together until the white walls stare back at Obi-Wan in accusation.

  He should have known he wouldn’t be able to meditate, anyways.

  After Qui-Gon goes to bed, leaving Obi-Wan with murmured words of assurance and a ruffle of his hair, Obi-Wan slips out of their quarters in his darkest robes. He meets Luminara and Bant in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and they know it’s impossible that their little escapade has gone completely unnoticed, but no one stops them from winding through the different fountains until they reach the one modeled to resemble a spring on Kiffu. None of them had ever been to Quinlan’s home planet, but Obi-Wan had come here often with him even in their créche days, and dropping to sit in the yellow dirt doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

  Luminara sets a simple clay incense burner on the edge of the fountain wall, lighting it as Bant lays out a small offering plate with Quinlan’s favourite sweetcake; they don’t make Obi-Wan help as they go about fixing an altar with little bits from all their cultures, the water-filled quiet between them heavier so heavy it reminds him of those nights on Melida/Daan.

  “Did—” Obi-Wan swallows even though his mouth is dry. “Did you all do this for me, before?”

  His friends exchange a look before nodding. “Both times,” Bant says softly, lighting the last candle before joining him on the ground and for once not worrying about laying out a blanket first. 

  “Quinlan almost didn’t come to the second one,” Luminara admits, standing over the altar with her eyes closed as she breathes in the incense. 

  Obi-Wan simply nods, because that does sound like Quinlan, and he feels horrid all over again for making Quinlan go through this, twice. Inhaling a sigh, Obi-Wan finds the holodisk hidden away in his robes and sets it next to the incense. 

  None of them can bear to turn it on.

-

  The greatest injustice of it all is that, for some reason, Master Tholme did not contact the Temple before hitching a ride back from the moon where the unhappy locals had bombed their ship. And Obi-Wan knows Master Tholme didn’t tell the council they were in fact alive, because then the council would have told Obi-Wan.

  He feels it the moment their ship docks, Quinlan’s presence flooding his mind until his fingers tingle with it, and he shoots to his feet.

  The class of senior padawans stare at him in surprise, and Master Prweex stops mid-lecture, chirping in concer. “Is everything alright, Padawan Kenobi?”

  Breath caught somewhere in his throat, Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, and instead scrambles from the classroom, opening the door with the Force before he can slam into it. 

  Despite popular superstition, Jedi cannot teleport, but Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t say how he made it from the lesson halls to one of the main hangars, where a small group of Jedi masters stand next to a shamble of a ship that spews smoke from several panels. And, there, Master Tholme looking ragged and tired, robes still stained from the explosion and with a cast on his right arm, but Obi-Wan’s eyes snap immediately to the padawan on his side.

  Quinlan is a little worse for wear, and his braids hang around his shoulders instead of pulled up, not that Obi-Wan cares as he sprints the last few yards and launches himself at his friend. The masters step cleanly out of the way, likely having sensed his approach from a few hallways away, but Quinlan clearly hadn’t, yelping as he stumbles to catch him. It isn’t until then that Obi-Wan can accept that, yes, he had mourned him, but for some reason the Force had decided “not yet”.

  “Obes?” Quinlan asks softly when Obi-Wan doesn’t pull his head away from his chest. 

  “Hmm,” Master Rancisis chuckles, the sound edged in saddness. “Perhaps Kenobi needs a moment, Padawan Vos; it has been a long few weeks in your absence.” 

  And Obi-Wan is more than content to stay there the rest of the day, even though Quinlan smells like he hasn’t bathed in a week – and he probably hadn’t. Quinlan still hugs him back and bleeds worry into the Force, as Master Tholme gently runs a hand over the back of Obi-Wan’s head and sighs.

  “I know what Melida/Daan did to my padawan, so I can imagine what you’ve been through the last few weeks.” When Obi-Wan still doesn’t pull away, he continues, “You know, now that I think about it, during their clan wars the Stewjoni had a special marriage rite, when one thought dead returned to them.”

  “Master?” Quinlan asks in confusion, but Obi-Wan grips his robes tighter. He does remember Master Nu mentioning something...

  Master Tholme laughs, only a little rough, and steps away to join the other masters who have started slowly making their way from the hangar. “I suppose I thought it funny, padawan,” he says, “that, if I recall the ceremony correctly, you’re both halfway there already. You will meet me in the Halls of Healing when you’re ready? I’d like to get the cut of yours looked at.”

  “Of course, master. Gimme a few minutes.”

  “Of course, padawan.”

  Tholme sometimes did that, dropped little bits of trivia any time something jogged his memory, and he didn’t often mean anything by it; even with this in mind, Obi-Wan can’t help but hope.

  Quinlan waits until the masters’ footsteps recede, before gently tugging on Obi-Wan’s nerftail until he looks up. “I’ve got an idea,” he says with a roguish grin, and Obi-Wan is young and stupid and scared, and knows exactly what he’s planning.

-

  “You ready?”

  “This is probably illegal, Quinlan.”

  “Not according to Master Nu, it isn’t.”

  “Well, I’m probably going to Stewjoni hell anyways, I guess.”

  “Before we do this, I need you to promise me something, Obi-Wan.”

  “...”

  “We can’t let this get in the way, we can’t... We’re almost knights, Obi, we’ve worked too hard to lose that now. We’ll always have to come second to the Order, you understand that, right?”

  “Quinlan Vos, are you backing out on me? This was your idea.”

  “And you agreed! Stop laughing, I’m serious.”

  “I know you are, Quin. I’m somehow more ready now than I was ten minutes ago.”

  “Good. Because you know I would follow you anywhere.”

  “And I would follow you into this.”

  “Good. Now shut up and light the candle.”

-

  It’s Kit that brings Obi-Wan the datapad with all the forms for his induction onto the council, along with advice and a smile that makes Obi-Wan think maybe accepting the position had not been a mistake.

  Unlike either his master or his own padawan, Obi-Wan is efficient with his paperwork, he knows the quicker he gets it done, the more time he can spend not doing paperwork, just as he knows that to be thorough the first time is to avoid having to do it a second.

  Only one question on the forms gives him pause:

  Is the inductee married in any culture(s)’s customs, accidental or not?

  Well, it had been fifteen years since Quinlan had knotted a scrap of his own robes around Obi-Wan’s wrist, as Obi-Wan had done the same, and the Jedi Order is not made of fools, so he checkmarks the Yes box and adds Stewjoni below it, because he can’t imagine that at least the masters haven’t noticed by now.

(He would come to find that, no, they had not.)

-

i got a little carried away with this one, and didn’t entirely follow the prompt oops

[purrincess-chat]

My Chosen’s Keeper CH3 (FINAL)

Here is the last chapter of the petty kwami AU. I have basically this whole week off because of Hurricane Sally, so I decided to go ahead and post the last chapter since I finished it up. I’m so happy you all enjoy this fic, and I hope you like the conclusion!

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

After a week, Lila stopped scheming against Marinette. In fact, she’d stopped doing much of anything. Every so often she’d look over her shoulder as if expecting someone to be following her, and she flinched every time she opened her locker or her bag.

Tikki was satisfied enough with their efforts, though she worried they’d gone too far when Lila spun around on poor Nathaniel walking behind her to his seat. Her goal was to inconvenience Lila, not scare her out of her skin, and now her stomach was churning too much to enjoy her morning macaron. She popped into Adrien’s bag where Plagg was dozing in an empty Camembert carton and shook him awake.

“Plagg, do you think maybe we went too far with all of this?” She asked, but Plagg simply shrugged his shoulders and burped.

“Relax, sugar cube. That girl got what was coming to her.”

“Yeah, but she’s petrified now, and people are starting to notice,” she said with a nervous glance up at the open zipper. “I think we should stop.”

“Fine,” Plagg yawned, and Tikki prodded his side.

“I’m serious, Plagg. No more pranks.”

“Okay,” he said, and she sat back, antenna pressing low against her head.

“Good,” she said with a nod.

As the bell rang, Tikki slipped back into Marinette’s bag before her owner noticed her absence. She tried to push the whole situation from her mind, but when Alya leaned against Marinette’s neighboring locker, her nerves only worsened.

“Lila’s been acting super paranoid today. I wonder what’s bugging her,” Alya whispered, casting a glance at their classmate across the room.

“Nathaniel told me she thinks she’s being haunted,” Marinette said. Even she seemed concerned, and Tikki shrank deeper into her purse.

“I mean, a lot of crazy stuff has been happening to her, so maybe she is,” Alya said with a wince.

“I wouldn’t doubt if she’d made a spirit angry,” Marinette mumbled, and Alya leaned in closer.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I feel kinda bad for her. I saw her dozing off in class earlier. She must not be sleeping,” Alya said, biting her lip. “Hey, why don’t we all plan a sleepover? Maybe if a group of us supports her then she’ll feel safe enough to sleep.”

“Uhh, yeah, sure,” Marinette said, sounding anything but willing. “You plan it, and I will definitely not think of an excuse not to go.”

“I’ll ask her this afternoon. It’ll be fun.” Alya nudged her with her elbow before they headed to their next class.

To Tikki’s horror, not only did Lila accept the sleepover invitation, but somehow, she managed to convince them to host it at Marinette’s house. Lila had a way of backing people into corners, and Marinette didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Tikki was equally as unenthused. Just what she needed—another reason to get involved.

“Plagg, what am I gonna do?” Tikki asked that afternoon in art class. “I know she’s up to something!”

“Do you want me to leave stinky cheese in her locker again?”

“No!”

“Good because it’s a terrible waste of perfectly good cheese.”

“Plagg! I’m serious. What if Lila does something to my owner tonight?” Tikki said, tugging his arm. “Help me!”

“I thought you wanted to be done with all of this? No more pranks?” Plagg said, and Tikki averted her gaze, antenna lowering.

“I do, but she’s coming into her personal home. What if she finds her diary and learns that she’s Ladybug? Or what if she just so happens to steal her earrings? Or what if-”

“Don’t worry, sugar cube. I’ll help you tonight. Lila won’t get away with anything, okay?” Plagg said, patting her head.

“You mean it?”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Plagg asked, and Tikki’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, bad question. I promise I won’t let you down—this time.”

“Thanks, Plagg.”

Later that evening, Tikki chewed her lip as Marinette tidied up for her guests. She’d helped remove any lingering Adrien pictures despite her friends all knowing about her crush, but Marinette was just as wary of having Lila over as Tikki. As a result, she was taking a few extra precautions like hiding her diary and anything else Lila could use against her. It eased some of Tikki’s worry, but not all of it.

“Are you really going to have that girl over?” She asked as Marinette locked her important belongings in her chest.

“I couldn’t exactly say no. Lila is too good at manipulating everyone. If I had said no, she would have made it seem like I hate her,” Marinette said, leaning against her fist.

“But you do hate her.”

“Yeah, but I can’t prove why I hate her to everyone, so I don’t have a choice,” Marinette sighed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful tonight. I doubt Lila will try anything with all of the girls over.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.”

Thankfully Alya arrived first to help set up because Lila was the first after her. She seemed surprised and slightly annoyed to find Alya there as well, and Tikki’s blood boiled at the sight of her. She popped up to the roof, tapping her paws together as she peered out over the street. The night was calm and quiet—a direct contrast to the storm brewing inside her. Where was Plagg?

“Ya know, you really worry too much.”

She spun around to see him lounging on the chair with a cheese danish from the bakery. Relief flooded her mind, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Where have you been?”

“Relax, sugar cube. I was doing some important reconnaissance,” he said around a mouthful.

“You mean helping yourself to whatever your greedy stomach wanted?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so selfish!”

“Oh, then I suppose you already know that Lila has a lockpick in her bag?”

“She- you- oh…Well, then we should-”

“Already did. And her toothbrush just for fun,” he snickered, and Tikki lowered onto the chair beside him. “I’m a little insulted that you don’t believe in me.”

“Dinosaurs, Atlantis, the Black Plague…”

Plagg bit off a chunk of his pastry and chewed it grumpily. “We never talk about your mistakes.”

“Thank you, Plagg,” Tikki said, and he blinked, swallowing the rest of the danish whole. “For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me.” He turned his back to her and waved it away, but she could see the smile tugging on his lips. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.”

The girls were gathered in Marinette’s room when Tikki and Plagg snuck in and took position on Marinette’s bed. Marinette had strategically positioned herself on top of her locked chest, and partnered with Plagg’s disposal of Lila’s lock pick, it eased some of Tikki’s nerves. At least her secrets would be safe, but that didn’t mean Lila didn’t have other tricks up her sleeve.

After a while, they moved downstairs to watch a movie, and Mr. Dupain brought up homemade pizza. Plagg groaned beside her as the girls pulled apart stretchy strips of cheese, and Tikki restrained him from flying down and helping himself.

Halfway through the movie, Lila got up to go to the bathroom, and Tikki followed. Just as she feared, the moment the door closed, Lila set to work silently opening cabinets. Tikki had half a mind to spray her with the sink nozzle again, but after a few minutes of searching, Lila found what she was looking for—a metal nail file. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and tucked them both into her pocket.

Back out in the main room, she announced that she was going to go upstairs and call her mom who was traveling overseas on some important ambassador thing, and she only had a short window in the evening to talk to her because of timezones or something. It didn’t matter the reason because it was a lie. Marinette’s glare followed her up the stairs with Tikki right behind it.

“Plagg?” She hissed, glancing around for that lazy black cat, but she didn’t have to guess where he was. “I told you not to touch the pizza!”

Plagg clung to the piece he was greedily stuffing in his mouth as Tikki tugged on his tail. “Oh come on! Mr. Dupain makes his own mozzarella. I couldn’t resist!”

“Lila is on the move! She took a nail file from the bathroom, and now she’s upstairs! Come on!”

Plagg caressed his slice of pizza one last time before Tikki dragged him up the stairs. Lila was already kneeling beside the chest, nail file and bobby pin at work.

“Come on, stupid chest. I know Marinette is behind all of the weird stuff happening to me lately,” she grumbled. “I just need something to blackmail her with to make it all stop. Just open!”

“Plagg, what are we gonna do?” Tikki whispered, and Plagg was already surveying the rest of the room.

“Follow my lead,” he said, darting for the nearest mannequin.

Lila nearly had the lock open when a stack of shoeboxes toppled over, and she jumped. Seeing that it was only boxes, she took a deep breath and turned back to her work.

“What?” She gasped when her makeshift lock picks were no where to be found.

“Lila…”

She startled, jumping up and spinning around, but no one was in the room. No one she could see anyway.

“Liiiila…”

“Very funny, Marinette. I know it’s you. It’s been you the whole time. I don’t know how, but you won’t beat me,” she said, but the way her eyes flicked frantically around the room betrayed her true fear.

“Leave her alone…”

The mannequin by the chaise, surged forward, and Lila’s scream filled the house. She scrambled for the trapdoor, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she tugged. The girls rushed up the stairs, Marinette at the front. She pushed the trapdoor open easily to find Lila curled into a ball on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

“What are you doing?” Marinette demanded, and Alya crawled up to wrap an arm around Lila’s shoulders.

“The mannequin!” Lila wailed.

“What about it?” Marinette asked.

“It-It talked and moved and-and-” She pointed across the room, but the mannequin had returned to its original place. Even the shoeboxes had righted themselves. “But…”

“Maybe we should all just go to bed,” Alya suggested, and Lila grabbed her shoulders.

“But it did move! I swear I’m not making it up,” she said, gripping her shirt so tightly that Alya swatted her hands away with a hiss.

“I think you’re just tired-”

“Or crazy,” Marinette mumbled, masking it with a cough.

“Sleep deprivation can make you see weird things,” Alya said. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep.”

As the girls moved downstairs again, Marinette eyed her chest, but her secrets were safe. Tikki still stayed up all night to make sure Lila didn’t try anything again, but their ghost stunt seemed to have scared her off the idea.

When morning light streamed in from the windows, Tikki sat back with a yawn. Curling in next to Plagg snoring loudly on Marinette’s chaise, she slipped off into sleep with the reassurance that Marinette was safe.

***

The Monday after the sleepover, Lila entered the school on a quest for vengeance. Dark bags hung under blood-shot eyes, and her whole demeanor was slightly unhinged as everyone hung out in the courtyard on break. Tikki knew she was going to target Marinette again, so she lingered close by—waiting.

Marinette was sketching on a bench by herself while a maintenance man repainted the railing to her left. When he reached a stopping point, he scooted the ladder next to the bench and took his break, but Marinette never looked up from her drawing.

“Hey, I heard about the sleepover. What happened?” Adrien materialized at Marinette’s side, startling her out of her skin. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Marinette relaxed. “I don’t know. I knew she was up to no good, and while we were all watching a movie, she went up to my room to ‘call her mom’ then she just started screaming and freaking out,” Marinette said, shooting her a glare across the courtyard. “I don’t really know what happened, but she swears my mannequin talked to her.”

“Do you think she’s doing it all for attention?” Adrien asked, but Marinette pursed her lips.

“I don’t think so this time. She seemed really freaked out when we found her. I think she’s actually losing her mind,” Marinette said.

“You don’t think she’s really being haunted, do you?” Adrien’s green eyes clouded with worry.

“I don’t know,” Marinette said with a shrug. “Maybe she is making it all up for attention, or maybe all of her lying is finally catching up to her.”

“Let’s hope this convinces her to start telling the truth whatever it is,” he said. “I’m just glad she didn’t do anything to you. I was worried when I heard she was coming to your house for a sleepover.”

Marinette’s cheeks flushed at that, and she took her eyes off Lila. Adrien was the perfect distraction, but Tikki wasn’t so easily deterred because Lila was watching them too. Their friendly smiles and close proximity drove her over the edge. When she dashed toward them, Tikki braced herself, but Lila wasn’t aiming for the bench.

Tikki glanced up at the paint can resting precariously on the top of the ladder beside them, recognizing the intent in Lila’s eyes.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, flitting up to the bucket.

Lila rocked the ladder, but against the laws of natural physics, the can twirled around and dumped on top of her. The courtyard fell silent as the can clattered to the ground, and Lila wiped green paint from her face.

“That’s it!” She screeched, pointing a finger at Marinette. “This is all your fault!”

“Lila, Marinette didn’t do anything. I was talking to her the whole time,” Adrien said, holding up cautioning hands.

“No! Everything is her fault!” Lila stomped a foot. “I don’t know how you keep doing it, but I know it’s you!”

“Lila, what are you-” Alya started, but Lila lunging at Marinette cut her off. Nino and Ivan caught her, and Adrien took a defensive stance in front of Marinette.

“How did you do it, Marinette?” She growled. “I put those test answers in your schoolbag, but they weren’t there when Mlle. Bustier checked! I planted my necklace in your locker during lunch, but somehow you put it back! How did you do it?”

Marinette and Adrien cupped hands over their mouths as the weight of those words settled among their classmates. Confusion and anger snaked its way onto every face, and more classmates joined Adrien guarding Marinette.

“Wait, you tried to frame Marinette? But why?” Nathaniel asked, and Lila shot him a glare.

“Because I hate her! She’s always getting in my way and ruining my plans. I’d have you all eating out of the palm of my hand if it wasn’t for her!” She said, shoulders heaving. She ripped away from Nino and Ivan and kicked the paint bucket with a shriek.

“Whoa, so all those times Marinette said you were lying…” Nino said, lowering his gaze.

“She was right,” Adrien spoke up, and all eyes turned to him. “Lila is a liar. Nothing she’s ever said is true. She just wanted to use all of you for attention.”

“So, you’ve never met Jagged Stone?” Rose deflated.

“And let me guess. You’re not really bffs with Ladybug,” Alya said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Of course I’m not friends with that stupid insect! I hope Hawkmoth takes her Miraculous and rids the world of her stupid face!” Lila shouted.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Damocles demanded as he and Mlle. Bustier approached.

“Karma,” Marinette said with a grunt.

Lila glanced between each face glaring back at her, the rage-induced fog clearing enough for her to see the damage she’d inflicted. Her eyes widened, and her shoulders shrank. For the first time since she’d stepped foot in their school, Lila was exposed. Powerless. Small.

“My office. Now.” Mr. Damocles barked through gritted teeth, and Lila followed behind him quietly. She had nothing left to say. No more lies to tell.

“M, are you okay?” Alya pulled her best friend in for a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I never believed you.”

“Yeah, we should have known better. You never trip out over anyone unless there’s a reason,” Nino said, ruffling her hair.

“We’re sorry, Marinette.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette said, cutting everyone off. “Really. I’m not mad at you. Lila manipulated all of you. It’s not your fault she can’t tell the truth.”

“Marinette…” Alya cooed, and all of their classmates huddled around her.

When the bell rang, they all dispersed, heading to their next class, but Marinette excused herself to the bathroom. Tikki slipped back into her purse, relieved that it was finally over and that she hadn’t been caught. Or rather, she thought she hadn’t been caught until Marinette ripped open her purse and dumped her out into her waiting hand.

“I thought kwamis weren’t supposed to meddle,” she said, quirking a brow, and Tikki shrank guiltily.

“I’m sorry, Marinette! I just knew she was up to no good, and I couldn’t let her frame you,” she said, pressing her paws together.

“Putting the test answers back and moving the necklace are like you, but exploding milk cartons and mannequin ghosts?” Marinette cocked a hip. “Plagg, I know you helped too.”

A sinister chortle echoed above them as Plagg floated down beside Tikki. “I couldn’t let sugar cube have all the fun.”

“We’re really sorry,” Tikki said, lowering her head.

She braced for her punishment, but instead, Marinette lifted the two of them to her lips and planted a soft kiss on each of their heads. “Thanks, you two.”

“You mean you’re not mad?”

“Nah, Lila deserved it,” she said with a shrug.

“I’ll accept my reward in the form of one of those tasty cheese danishes your dad makes,” Plagg said, puffing his chest out, and Marinette scratched under his chin with a giggle.

“You can have all the cheese danishes you want,” she said. “It’s nice to know you two have my back.”

“Of course,” Plagg said, draping an arm over Tikki’s shoulders. “If someone wants to mess with the Bug, they’re gonna have to go through us.”

“We’ll always make sure you’re safe,” Tikki added, and Marinette held out a pink with a smile.

“Bien Joué!”

[tinyboxxtink]

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 2*

Y'all thought I was kidding when I said I was pumped for this story; you just read how long this chapter is.

IT'S POURING OUT. I JUST WANT YOU TO GET WHERE I AM ALREADY.

It's so good guys. Like, SO GOOD.

Okay I'm sorry proceed.

Tag List:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

If you missed part 1: Here!

Part 3 Here!

-----

The next day the SVU squad was having one of their "murder board" meetings when you came storming into the station.

"Well I hope you're happy!!" You looked right at Fin.

"Audition didn't go well, cannoli?" Sonny asked you using his pet name for you.

"No Sonny, it DID NOT," You huffed. "I walked in there and I blew my audition," You circled Fin’s desk. "And I don't mean I forgot the lyrics, or I hit a bad note. No no, ohhhh no," You finally stood in front of him and crossed your arms.

"Halfway through the song I broke down SOBBING. I had a complete mental breakdown, because all I could think was that I had the worst moment of my entire life in that room!!!"

"Hey you can't blame us for your mistakes," Fin retorted.

"I don't blame them, I blame you!" You gestured to the rest of your “family” and then to him.

"Excuse you?" Fin sat up straighter.

"You didn't have to say anything Fin, you really didn't," You sighed.

"What?"

"You could have waited to have your fucking temper tantrum until after my audition,"

"Excuse me no--"

"She has a point" Olivia interjected.

"You too?" Fin took offense.

"Fin she was leaving, it wasn't like she was going to try and jump Rafael's bones right there," She went on. The whole room shivered at the thought of you “jumping” anybody’s bones.

"Look, I don't love it either but you can't help your feelings. And she just has a little crush on him, you can't fault her for that,"

You scoffed in offense.

"You're not helping, sweets," Olivia warned.

"Right…"

"Anyway you could have waited to have it out, is all I’m saying,” Olivia nodded at you with a smile. You mouthed a “thank you”.

"Oh we haven't begun to have it out," Fin huffed.

"Save it" You put a hand up before he started to stand up and get in your face for a fight.

"I already know what you're going to say; he's too old for me, we're a 'family' and he's supposed to be my 'uncle' or 'brother' or some other creepy thing, and we have nothing in common. But we do!"

"You barely know him, Y/N," Nick chimed in.

"I know him better than any of you!" You cried defensively.

"What?" Sonny looked at everyone confused, but they were just as lost as he was.

"That summer….when I was working with him. We got... close," You muttered the ending.

"I fucking knew it, you did bang him begin my back…" Fin growled.

"It wasn't like that! It's not like that, da--FIN," You actually did usually call him dad or daddy, but since he had been trying to use his dominance you persisted to remind him he wasn't actually your father.

"So what, now you two are in love?" Fin rolled his eyes.

"No! He didn't... we've never….it's never gone there, and I don't even know how he feels," You looked down as you talked. But then, you remembered why you were there in the first place and you raised your head up with eyes of fire.

“And it wouldn't matter anyway because it's none of your business.” You snapped.

“It is absolutely my business Y/N he’s my co-worker, he’s ALL of our co-workers, this affects ALL of us,”

“I knew it,” You scoffed, tears coming to your eyes.

“What?”

“I knew you’d blow up, and freak out, and not even ATTEMPT to open your mind or hear what I have to say, it’s just about you and what makes you okay,” You backed away from all of them.

“So I came here willing to say that I’m done,” You raised your hands.

“What do you mean you’re ‘done’?” Fin crossed his arms.

“With you,” You replied straight faced, willing tears not to fall right now. “Olivia’s right, I can’t help the way I feel, and BELIEVE me I have tried, daddy,” You resorted to your old name for a punch in the gut.

“Y’know whenever Sonny and Nick started, I had ‘crushes’ on them too,” You nodded at the two, who quickly looked uncomfortable picturing you that way.

“But those quickly went away, and I accepted them as my uncles, or whatnot,” You continued. “I have done that since I was in Jr. High, come here and meet my new ‘family’. I’ve always felt maternal or paternal vibes from everyone here, Uncle Brian, Grandpa Kragen and Munch, Uncle Stabler who can rot in hell…” You gave Olivia a sad look.

“But it’s ALWAYS been familial love! And the day I met Rafael, something was different,” You couldn’t help the tears choking your throat. “And I have never, EVER no matter HOW hard I have tried, felt anything like I feel about the rest of you. It’s just....different,”

“And now, you all know. And I know that you don’t like it, or it makes you uneasy, or blah blah blah,” You made blah gestures with your hands.

“But I can’t go back to pretending that it doesn’t kill me every time that I see him, and I’m not going to pretend like I’m okay with dad being-- this,” You gestured to Fin who shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’m not going to come around here, for a while,” You said sadly.

“We didn’t do anything, cannoli! We’re your family too,” Sonny protested.

“Yeah I know, I just--”

“Look, Y/N before anybody does ANYTHING, you need to go talk to Rafael,”

“What?

“WHAT?!”

Both you and Fin exclaimed at the same time.

“Look I’m not thrilled with the idea of...that, but the bottom line none of this arguing means anything if he doesn’t feel the same way. So I’m saying before you start going off and making threats to US, go talk to him first. Without anybody else’s input,”

“Yeah, alright,” You shrugged and left before anyone else could argue.

--------

You walked into Rafael’s office quietly, not really sure how to start the conversation. He was writing a deposition silently so you knocked on the door to get his attention. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hey you,” He got up and walked around his desk as you shut the door behind you. “I was worried about you,” He put his hands on both of your shoulders.

“I know,” You gave him a small smile back. “But you’re right we do need to talk about last night,”

“Yeah, I--” He looked away nervously.

“I already went to my da---Fin, and the squad about this,” You bit your lip.

“....About what?” He was now concerned.

“Us,” You looked at him with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, there’s an ‘us’ now?” Rafael half laughed.

“Well that’s what I’m saying, Rafael!” You bit your lip. “Look after all the fighting and what not, what it boils down to is how you and I feel,”

“.....What are you saying?” Rafael asked, backing away from you.

“I’m asking,” You step forward and took both of his hands and looked at him seriously.

“For you to forget about Fin, or the squad, or an age gap, or all the million other things that are ‘against’ us,” You took a deep breath and asked the hardest question you’ve ever asked anyone:

“I’m asking you...do you love me?”

“Of course I love you Y/N, you’re like a--” Rafael immediately responded, moving away from you and gesturing wildly.

“Do NOT say daughter,” You cut him off. “Or sister, or niece, or cousin. You know that’s not what I’m asking,” You grabbed him and made him look at you again.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“I...it’s complicated,” He broke from your hold and paced his office.

“No I’d say it’s pretty damn simple-- do you feel about me the way I feel about you?” You asked him again.

“I just...I don’t want to become between you and Fin, he’s basically your--”

“He’s NOT my father!” You yelled.

“But he’s the closest thing you have!” Rafael argued, putting his hands over his face and taking a deep sigh.

“Christ almighty, Y/N. I don’t...I don’t want this to be a whole ‘thing’, I don’t want to upset Olivia, or the other squad members, I just...want us to go back to normal,” He gave you a sad look as he sank into his chair behind his desk.

“....Yeah well, normal is not an option, Rafael. And you STILL have not answered my question,” You circled his desk to be closer to him again.

“What question?”

“Dammit, Rafa!” You threw up your hands, then took both of your hands and put them on either side of the chair preventing him from evading you again.

“Look me in the eyes right now, and tell me you’re not in love with me,”

A very long pause began, as the two of you just stared at each other. You were searching his green eyes for a hint, a tell of what he was thinking, but he kept himself very guarded. You hated it.

“...No, I’m not,” He said in the tiniest voice as he looked down at the floor.

“You’re lying,” You pulled back with a sarcastic laugh, tears choking your throat yet again.

“Oh so just because I didn’t say what you wanted me to, I’m lying? For fuck’s sake grow up, Y/N,” Rafael spat at you coldly, turning back to his desk in an attempt to resume working.

“Fine, you know what? Fine. That’s great. You believe whatever you wanna believe Rafael, but things are NOT going back to normal,” You shook your head, trying to be cold and direct but failing as tears fell from your eyes.

“Y/N….” He felt his heart breaking, he hated to see you cry.

“No,” You stopped him. “We’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again. Not here, not at the station, not at the fucking Starbucks down my street!” Your voice raised as more tears fell.

“Y/N, please don’t do this…” Rafael began to panic, realizing what you were saying. He leapt up from his chair and tried grabbing your hands but you pushed him away.

“Don’t call me, don’t text me. Just...leave me hell alone,” And with that you turned on your heels and stormed out of his office, now full on sobbing down the hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafael let out an angry scream, running over to his desk and flinging papers everywhere, then proceeded to sink back into his chair behind his desk and cried ever so silently in his office.

-----

It had been about a week since your whole fallout with your “family” and Barba and you weren't doing great.

Then one day you got a phone call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, this is Sandy from the supper club?” You immediately stopped walking when you heard her voice.

“Oh yes how are you?”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come back in and audition for us again?”

“Are you serious? I know I’m going to regret asking but, what made you change your mind?”

“Well your friend Kelsey called and told us that the day you came in and auditioned, your dog had just died that morning. But you didn't want to stand us up so you came anyway. And to be honest with you, all of the other auditions have kind of sucked so we'd like to give you another try.”

“Oh my God thank you, thank you, thank you so much!!!”

“Great so we'll see you tonight at 8:00?”

“Absolutely,”

You hung up the phone and immediately called Kelsey.

“Hello?”

“I love you so much I love you I love you I love you!”

“Oh so they called did they?”

“YES. I cannot believe that you would do that for me,”

“Well I figured you needed a win right now. Since you know you lost your family, and everybody who actually cares about you,”

“....Wow,”

“ You know what I mean! I mean you still have me, and Kenny obviously,”

“....Right. ANYWAY, the audition is tonight so….”

“Yes?”

“Will you play for me?”

“Let me see if I can free up my busy schedule,”

“Ha, Ha,”

“Oh look I’m free! I'll be there after work. Love you bye”

----

*That Night*

You walked into the Supper Club with a brand new outfit and a nervous smile. You noticed Kelsey was already at the piano, waving at you with a huge smile and a thumbs up.

“Hey Sandy, Hey Kyle…” You shook hands with the owners. “Thank you so much again for this chance,

“Girl we should be thanking you, you should’ve seen the ‘talent’ that has stunk up this stage all week!” Kyle laughed.

“So are you ready?” Sandy asked you.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” You took a deep breath and smiled at her. She nodded at you while you took your spot on stage once again.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything and everyone out of your mind, except for your song. It was just you, and the stage. This is what mattered.

-----

“....Good to you,” You finished the last line with a breathy note, your eyes still closed. You had kept them shut the entire time just so you wouldn’t look out into the house and just see the horrified looks of your family's faces burned into your brain.

“That was beautiful!!” Sandy clapped her hands. “Do you think you could come back tomorrow night and do that again?”

“Like for a second audition?” You asked hopefully.

“Like as a job,” She grinned back.

“Really?!”

“Yes really! That was enchanting darling, really,” Kyle placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” You nodded for Kelsey to come over as Sandy and Kyle walked away.

“I got the job,” You beamed.

“YOU GOT THE JOB!!!!” She squealed, causing people to stare. You shook your head and lead her out of the club back onto the street.

“Oh my god, Oh my GOD! I’m going to sing to a packed club, night after night after night! Oh my god, I have to call Dad---” Your celebrating tone quickly died when you realized the only people you’d wanna call about this weren’t...there.

“...You can call Kenny,”

“Kenny!” You smiled. “Yes I’ll call Kenny!”

“Hey girl what’s up?”

“I got the job,”

“Wha---at the Supper Club?”

“YES!!!!!!”

“Oh my god you GOT THE JOB!!!” *she got the job!*

You heard him speak to a muffled voice in the background.

“Kenny…”

“Yeah babe what’s up?”

“Who are you with right now?”

“...Alejandro,”

“Oh, Alex! I haven’t seen him in forever, put him on the phone,”

“He uh-- he has food in his mouth,”

“Boy why you lying, tell her she needs to--”

You heard Fin's voice.

“KENNETH,”

“...Yeah?”

“Don’t tell him that! He doesn’t get to know that!”

“Y/N, can’t we just stop all of this--”

“NO. And if you tell him to come tomorrow night I will kill you,”

You hung the phone and noticed Kelsey giving you a look.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t have to tell him you were singing tomorrow, you could’ve just texted him so Fin wouldn’t hear,” She smiled mischievously at you. “You want him thereeee,”

"...Maybe," You bit your lip. "Do you think he'll come?"

"I bet they ALL come, baby girl," She winked.

You wondered if she was right. If you'd see Rafael tomorrow, after all this time.

------

“I can’t believe she--” Kenneth stared at the phone, then to Fin.

“Dad, you have to go to her show tomorrow night,”

“Kenny she literally just said she’d kill you--”

“Yeah but dad, we both know her,” He looked at Fin with earnest eyes. “She might be mad at you right now, but she’ll want you there when her dream is coming true,” Fin’s eyes lit up as he finished speaking.

“AND the rest of the squad,” He quickly added, making Fin sigh.

“Yeah,” He agreed.

“AND Barba,”

“...Yeah alright Ken I get it, okay? Finish your food before it gets cold,”

-----

The next day Fin went to see Barba at his office. He knocked softly then entered to see Barba talking with Olivia.

“Detective,” Barba nodded. “Didn’t expect you here, was Olivia not working fast enough?” He teased Liv with a smile.

“Actually I’m glad you’re both here. I need to tell the rest of the guys but-- I wanted to come here first,”

“That sounds ominous, Fin,”

“Actually it’s not,” He shook his head. “Y/N got that job she...auditioned for, a few weeks ago,” He muttered awkwardly not looking Barba in the face.

“Wha--Seriously? How? When?!” Olivia began asking questions rapid fire.

“....Why did you come to tell me this, Fin? You didn’t know Olivia was here,”

“Look, Barba,” Fin sighed, running his hand back across his head. “I don’t-- I don’t need to know the specifics of how close you and my daug---Y/N, are,”

“Oh Fin look I haven’t--”

“Yeah, I figured. She’s iced us all out for a while now,” He chuckled sadly. If he taught you anything, it was how to stand your ground.

“But Kenny said, that as mad as she is we need to be there tomorrow night when she goes on,” He continued. “All of us,”

“Tomorrow?” Barba’s eyes perked up. “Tomorrow night, you want me to go see Y/N?”

“ALL of us,” He emphasized. “But, yeah,”

“Sounds good,” He replied as nonchalant as he could, trying to hide his excitement. He missed you so badly, it scared him how much it hurt not to have you in his life on a daily basis.

“Uh huh,” Fin chuckled, nodding to Olivia. “I’ll see you back at the station,”

“Actually I was on my way out, I’ll see you tomorrow night Rafa,” She winked at him.

As soon as they left his office, Rafael did a fist pump in the air like a kid. He was going to see you, after so long.

He couldn’t wait. He just hoped you couldn’t either.

[daydream-hobii]

Hybrid Heart Attack | Chapter 16

Genre: Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff; Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Human!Seokjin x Human!Reader; Eventual relationship with Snow Leopard!Yoongi, Red Panda!Hoseok, Koala!Namjoon, Calico Cat!Jimin, Husky!Taehyung, Doberman!Jungkook

Summary: Y/n finds her current fiance during college, his name is Seokjin. They fell in love and dated for three years before he proposed. Now, Seokjin is a lawyer for hybrids, and Y/n, well, she has the perfect stay at home job. When Seokjin invites her to move in, she wasn’t expecting that he has six hybrids. She doesn’t know why a hybrid lawyer wouldn’t have hybrids, she just didn’t think about it…. Y/n is petrified of hybrids, something happened to her when she was little…. Guess she’ll have to adapt… or leave.

Warning: Mentions of Animal Attacks, Abuse (Physical & Mental), Depression, Anxiety; Possible PTSD mentions; Suggestions of Smut; Read with caution. <3 This one in particular has Mentions of Violence, Attacks, Etc. Slightly Graphic. Read with Caution. <3

Word Count: 1,281

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 16! Okay! So, halfway through, it will switch to Seokjin’s POV! I was gonna make it Chapter 16.5, like I did in Shelter of Hope, but this chapter would’ve been too short! I hope you all enjoy it!! ^_^

       I went straight to the park, it wasn’t too far from our house. Well, was it really my house anymore? Seokjin pushed the last button, how could I go back to a man who did such a thing? I couldn’t! I wouldn’t.

       But… there was still my love, so strong. My heart felt broken, like it was all a lie. My Seokjin wouldn’t do this, he wouldn’t say that… but he did…. Was the engagement really a mistake…? He’s been so patient with me since I moved in. Patient with me warming up to the hybrids, patient with me needing him… why now? Why would he be so obsessed with Sooyoung when I’m right here? Am I not good enough?

       I shivered, the cold night making me wrap my arms around myself. I felt numb, my heart heavy in my chest. Salty tears rolled down my cheeks. My heart was literally broken… Seokjin was my soulmate, my everything….

       I heard a rustling not too far off, making me jump and look towards the bushes. I huffed, glaring at the noise and crossing my arms.

       “Boys, go home, I want to be alone,” I warned.

       My heart sank as four hybrids emerged from the bushes, but they weren’t mine…. They all looked threatening, making me go wide eyed. One smirked, walking closer to me as I stepped back. In my rush out the door, I forgot it was late at night and I should bring a weapon, so I was completely vulnerable.

       “Think we were someone else?” One asked, flashing a toothy smile. 

       “Yes,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m sorry for the intrusion.” I turned around, about to walk back towards home, but another stepped in front of me.

       “What’s the rush?” She asked, smirking. There were three men and one woman. My heart began to beat fast, old fears resurfacing.

       “I need to get back home,” I replied, trying to step around her, but she shoved me, making me fall to the ground in horror.

       “You aren’t going anywhere,” Another man said, making me gulp.

       “See, you don’t know us, but you may know our owner,” One said with a smirk. “Met at a grocery store not too long ago. Your fiance knows him a bit better than you, though.” I went wide eyed, my mind flashing back to that day months ago.

       “You’re the lawyer's wife,” A man growled out, making me pale slightly. “The one who took away my hybrids!”

       I gulped once more, remembering what Seokjin told me about the case. He was taking away his hybrids because he used them for cage fighting. These must be that man's hybrids….

       “You see, we like our owner, we like to fight, so you could imagine our disappointment when another man came to take us,” He said, bending down to my height. He pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, making me shiver in fear. “So, we decided we need to make him pay for it.”

       “What better way than to take it out on his fiance,” The woman growled, making me wide eyed.

       I tried to stand, I tried to get away, but the one who seemed to lead this pack bit my arm, making me shout in pain. I felt fists hit my body, feet hit my stomach. There would be an occasional bite, and it would seep through my skin. I curled up, trying to protect my body, my face, keep them from hurting me further, but to no avail. Memories from when I was younger came flooding back, and for a second I thought I was there.

       One of the hybrids grabbed my chin, making me look up as he growled. I felt woozy, they had made so many wounds that I lost some blood. This hybrid seemed to open his mouth, going in for my jugular. This was it, this was the end… but he dropped me. My vision was blurry, but I could’ve sworn I saw four more people join us, hybrids. I wanted to shout, to ask them for help, but one of the hybrids attacking me kicked me in the face, making me lose consciousness.

Seokjin’s POV

       My anger was so strong, but hurt filled my body as well. Why would she do this…? It’s never been like this before…. Back in college, we were apart for weeks at a time and there was never a problem…. I felt so hurt, but at the same time, I understood what she was saying. I had been away from her for a long time, and I hadn’t seen her for a while, and we live together.

       I pulled up to Sooyoung’s house, turning off the car and sighing. I got out, walking to her door and knocking, tears rolling down my cheeks. When she opened it, her smile disappeared. She pulled me into a hug, her hand twisting through my hair as her other rubbed my back.

       “Jinnie, what’s wrong?” She asked, grabbing my hand and taking me to her living room where we sat.

       “Y/n and I got into a pretty bad fight,” I mumbled. She looked surprised, but I noticed a glint in her eyes.

       “About what?” She asked.

       “You,” I replied, sniffing and rubbing my face.

       “Oh, honey, I’m so terribly sorry,” She replied, hugging me. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be…?”

       “But it was,” I replied, pulling away. “She’s always been so funny and outgoing, except when she gets shy and blushes. She’ll wrinkle her nose when she gets annoyed, but it’s all fun. She’s so beautiful and…” Something in my mind clicked, making my heart sink further. “Oh my god… what have I done…?”

       “Jinnie, please,” Sooyoung asked, making me look at her. “Maybe this is fate! Maybe we’re supposed to get back together. I miss you so much, I just want you and the boys back.” My eyes widened when she leaned in, making me stand as she opened her eyes, looking hurt. 

       “Oh my god…. Sooyoung, you’re the one who broke up with me. You moved away, for your work, I wanted to try long distance, you didn’t,” I said, my brain creating memories and realizations at rapid speed.

       “Jinnie, come on,” Sooyoung begged, standing. “She’s not the right one for you.”

       “You got into my head,” I said, wide eyed. “Oh my god, Sooyoung, what did you make me do?! I was hanging out with you because I missed you! We were best friends before we were dating!” I paused, stepping back in horror. “Was this your plan…? You don’t know what’s right for me! I haven’t seen you in years!” I yelled.

       “Jinnie,” Sooyoung started, but I cut her off.

       “Don’t call me that!” I screamed, walking towards the door. “I have to go find Y/n. You stay away from me and my family from now on. I don’t want to see your face ever again.” I slammed the door, letting out a heavy sigh. I had to find her, I had to apologize. I knew I was going to have to beg to get her back…. God, I’m such an idiot…. 

       I ran to my car, getting in and opening my phone. I had missed text messages from all the boys, they must be looking for me. Just as I opened the phone app to call Y/n, my phone began to ring with a mysterious phone number. I squinted my eyes, thinking maybe it was for work. I answered it, listening to a new voice on the phone. My heart sank, eyes widening and tears dropping.

       “What…?” I whispered, heart breaking. “I’m on my way.”

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Tightrope Fanfic

Title: Tightrope

Summary:  Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since. 

Pairings: platonic prinixety

Word-Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Crying, Anger, Panic, Discussion of POF, Hurt/Comfort

This is a companion fic to Safety Net, but you don’t have to read that one to understand the context of this one <3

-

Virgil feels lost. It’s not a foreign feeling, especially when one is the embodiment of Anxiety. But it feels like one as he stares down at a sniffling Roman in his arms. He doesn’t know what has happened. One moment, the others are having their spat about the wedding. The next, Roman barges into his room mid-breakdown and hasn’t left since.

He keeps expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. That perhaps this is some delayed April’s Fool joke. A ploy by Remus or one of the Others to fuck with him. His mind crafts a thousand possibilities, a thousand explanations for why this can’t be reality.

Because Virgil doesn’t know how to handle a Roman who fell from a great height and shattered completely. What if he cannot put the pieces back together again? What if he messes up and makes things worse? What if he’s the one to cause this in the first place?

No, he refuses to go down that spiraling thought pattern. Because if he unravels now, then he’ll be completely useless to Roman. He compartmentalizes the fear, stuffing it away to haunt him at a later date.

Roman’s cries have died down to a few hiccuping gasps of air. The ever-poised, ever-presentable Prince of Passion is anything but. He lays in Virgil’s arms, as limp and lifeless as a doll. His white princely jacket wrinkly and half-undone, red sash hanging loosely. Virgil cannot see his eyes from underneath his rumpled, messy hair but he’s willing to bet they’re bloodshot. Virgil bits his lips as he notes the dark ichor running down Roman’s cheeks like smeared mascara. 

Roman has been in his room for far too long. Especially for someone who was already in a fragile emotional state upon showing up. Virgil shouldn’t have allowed him to stay. But he couldn’t find in himself to deny Roman, not when he’d looked at Virgil with a helpless terror in his eyes. So he had chosen instead to hold onto a sobbing Roman while trying to figure out what the hell happened. 

The clock in his room is hardly reliable, but he’s certain at least an hour has passed and he’s still nowhere closer than he’d been at the start. Which is that it involves the stupid wedding, Patton and Deceit. The latter of which, apparently told them his actual name. He won’t know more unless Roman divulges more. And in the swirling storm of hysteria that is his room, the chances of that happening is slim.

Before he can let doubt rake its claws into him, he pulls Roman closer to his chest and syncs out. Roman realizes a moment too late what’s happening. He lets out a startled gasp, tries pushing away, but it’s too late. With a loud crackle, they appear in the gloomy fog of a dead forest.

Roman looks around, eyebrows bunched up together. If this was any other situation, Virgil might’ve smirked.

“It’s the imagination,” Virgil says, answering the question behind Roman’s bewildered gaze, “Or at least my little pocket of it. No one will find us here.”

Well maybe except Remus, the one responsible for its creation. Virgil is hoping that today will not be the day he decides to return here for the first time in years.

Roman opens his mouth to speak, yet hesitates halfway through. He turns his head away from Virgil, shrugging. Virgil’s cold dead heart plummets at this. Roman isn’t supposed to be this defeated. He’s supposed to be stubborn, obstinate, argumentative. Virgil knows how to handle that. He knows how to bait Roman into banter, to get him to admit the root of his problems. But this? He doesn’t know how to deal with a Roman this apathetic. And that scares him.

Virgil should apologize, he thinks. After everything that happened, he hunkered down in his room. He stayed away thinking his presence would only be detrimental than beneficial. He was Anxiety after all, flight or fight. In this case, he chose flight. But obviously, like everything else in his existence, that’d been the wrong choice yet again.

He inhales deeply, his breath hitching at the last moment, the words refusing to come out. They remain stuck in clumps inside his throat, refusing to solidify into verbal spoken words. The ghostly howl of the wind is the only sound between the two.

Then Roman laughs. It sounds more like a cat hacking up a hairball than his usual melodious chuckles. It’s loud, harsh and absolutely dripping with pain. Halfway through he ends up in a coughing fit. Virgil watches, unsure how to respond.

“You were right.” Roman croaks at last, sagging heavily against a tree.

Those words aren't what Virgil likes to hear. It’s never good when he, Anxiety, is right.  He’d much prefer to be proven wrong. Even if that meant Roman lording it over his head for weeks on end. It’s annoying as hell and he never thought he’d miss that until now.

Virgil swallows, pushing the sudden ache in his chest aside. He doesn’t need confirmation to know what he was right about.

 Still, his heart thudding heavily in his chest, he asks anyways, “About Janus?”

Roman nods, grimacing. 

“Ro, what happened?” Virgil asks, unable to hold that question within himself any longer.

The fanciful side doesn’t respond at first. His hand traces the grooves of the bark on the tree he’s leaned against. His lips twist and contort, as if fighting to find the words to say. Virgil isn’t sure if he’s ever seen Roman ever at a loss for words until now.

“I thought it was a villainous trick at first. Just another ploy to get us to trust him. I made fun of it, even. It wasn’t until the way you reacted when I mentioned it to you that I thought otherwise,” Roman says, breaking in mid-conscious thought. Something that is very Roman-like, forgetting other people can’t read his mind. There must be something in Virgil’s face because he clarifies, “Deceit’s name I mean.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Virgil says slowly, toying with his hoodie strings, “He never told any of the Others.”

“But he told you?”

Now it’s Virgil’s turn to stare at the ground. The ache in his chest returns, except it’s different. It’s like a fire-pit at a summer camp-out. It’s warm and comfortable to linger next to, but stay too long and you’ll be sweltering in the unbearable suffocating heat. The same goes for thinking about the past. That’s why he hates getting nostalgic. It’s hard to reminisce about the good times without remembering why they ended.

The old him that hasn’t been extinguished yet, the one that called himself Janus’ friend, is indignant that Roman apparently made fun of Janus’ name. However the newer him that calls himself Virgil and wears the purple hoodie, isn’t. Good, he thinks, he deserves it. And he isn’t too ashamed of feeling that way. Not after the raging forest fire that burnt down their friendship in the first place.

“Yeah.” Virgil breaths out with stifled lungs. He can feel Roman’s eyes burning a hole in his head. He thinks he’d find an unspoken question in them if he looks up. He doesn’t elaborate. He isn’t in the mood for scorching his tongue on the ashes of a cremated friendship. Especially when it’d shift the focus onto him and not Roman. Something he’s certain Roman wants despite it being so rare for him to flinch away from the spotlight. 

For all their vast, stark differences, they aren’t really that different when it comes down to several things, one being that neither of them like showing weakness. They are also incredibly stubborn. It just so happens Virgil has the stronger resolve at this moment.

“I trusted him,” Roman says, continuing where he’d left off, “I trusted him, I thought he’d knew best and I just wanted--” 

A huff cuts off Roman’s words as he flings his arms towards the sky. He paces in front of Virgil, muttering bits and pieces too quick for him to understand. Perhaps he does need to share a little. Just to help Roman know and understand he isn’t alone. 

“Listen, I get it,” Virgil says, “I also trusted Janus once too--”

“No, it wasn’t Janus--well, yes, but--” Roman yanks at his hair, “I meant Patton!”

Patton? Virgil feels as if he'd been riding on the flying magic rug from Aladdin. Only the magic rug has been ripped from underneath him and now he’s freefalling into a waterfall full of sharp pointy rocks at the bottom.

He’d thought he knew where this conversation was heading except now he’s lost more than ever before. He needs a minute to breathe, to process what’s happening. Roman doesn’t give him that. He pushes on, shaking his head like a riled-up mistreated stallion from a horse girl movie.

“I wanted to do what was right for Thomas and--and Patton has always known what’s right, right?”

He gazes desperately at Virgil, searching for reassurance, for affirmation. Virgil’s heart sinks. He can't honestly give that to Roman, though he'd love to give Roman whatever his heart desires to stop his pain. 

Patton tries his best, he really does. But even he is wrong sometimes. He has made mistakes, ones that have hurt Virgil himself both past and present. And although Virgil has forgiven him, it doesn’t change the fact that even their softest puffball isn’t always right.

He can tell Roman realizes that by the way his scowl grows bigger.

“Am I too dimwitted?” Roman growls, “Was I the only one foolish enough to believe that? Just like believing that I could truly be--be--” 

He lets out a tormented scream, slumping down against a tree. Head bowed, knees drawn close, arms pulled tightly around himself. Virgil stands a few feet away, still so far from understanding as he was when Roman first appeared in his room. Only that apparently he needed to kick both Janus’ and Patton’s collective asses.

Virgil withholds a sigh as he crouches down next to Roman. 

A gloomy fog hardly provides the best lighting. It’s better than the dark murkiness of his room, however, and it’s here that he notices something. A blueish-purple splotch of something. Just barely poking out of Roman’s collar. It’s then, Virgil remembers that a metaphoric “bruised ego” is anything but metaphoric for one metaphysical entity such as Roman, Creativity and Ego in one.

“Princey,” Virgil says, his voice unusually level, “did you get hurt by what happened earlier?”

Roman doesn’t answer his question. Not directly at least. “Lee and Mary Lee hardly spoke to Thomas at the wedding, did you know that?”

“Yeah,” Virgil bites his lips, “I knew that.”

It’s a rhetorical question. Of course Virgil knows--he’s a part of Thomas. He’d been with Thomas during the wedding. The leg bouncing up and down in an anxious jitter. Directing the eyes away from the merriment of the wedding and towards that pointless moronic mobile game. The clenching feeling in Thomas’ throat during the brief interaction with Lee and Mary Lee. He hadn’t even been able to say hello because of Virgil.

He’d tried so hard to hold back, to not torment Thomas with his decision anymore than his host had already endured. It didn’t really matter in the end. As Thomas finally slipped away from the wedding, so had Virgil slipped into his room. He ignored the muffled noises of the debate erupting outside the mindscape. Why show his face when Thomas already knew what his input would be? Or knowing what he’d once been, for that matter? Or at least, that had been his justifications at the time.

“Which hardly seems fair! After what I--Thomas sacrificed to be there for them. B-but it’d been the right decision, right?” Roman laughs, shaking his head. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he pushes on, “Was it too selfish to expect more? To think that making the right decision would result in an award?”

Virgil stays silent. Morality isn’t his forte; sure as Anxiety he often cautioned Thomas to follow societal rules. It’s often easier to go with the current rather than fight against it. So he’s hardly the most reliable source of it. 

And as for his role, both the wedding and the call-back offered the same amount of dread. After all, he’s Anxiety. It’s literally his job to nitpick and point out every single thing a situation could go wrong, no matter how improbable or absurd. Unlike Roman, he’d be lying if he said he was surprised by the outcome of the wedding. It’s not far off from what he had predicted.

On the flipside, he could offer a million ways of how the audition could’ve ended poorly. A tear in Thomas’ pants mid-audition. Thomas blanking out on a crucial line. A meteor falling from the atmosphere and effectively crushing Thomas to death. Okay, that last one is highly improbable but it could still happen! You never know!

Regardless, he doubted any of that is what Roman needed to hear.

“I trusted him. He’d said it’d been the right decision when I made it. And I believed him.” Roman scoffs.

Virgil frowns, cautiously sitting a few feet away from Roman. He chooses not to look him in the eye, treating him as if he’s an easily-startled wild creature.

“Y’know, he and I are going through a bit of a rough patch. He’s trying his best, I know he is. But take it from me--sometimes someone’s best isn’t always good enough. And I think it’s okay if it...takes time for you to forgive Patton.”

“No!”

“No?”

“I mean,” Roman lets out a frustrated scream, “I don’t know! Before, there was a script, a stage, parts to play. Ones I had intimately memorized! But it’s as if it’s before the curtain rises before the opening show and the director has thrown out the script completely. He expects me after years of practice to perform something I’ve never seen--that even he has no concept of what it looks like and h-how is any actor expected to perform in such conditions?” 

A light-bulb finally goes off in Virgil’s head.

“You’re...angry at Thomas, aren’t you?”

Roman flinches as he’d been struck, throwing his body backwards harshly against the tree. He looks hardly affected by it as he scrambles quickly to his feet.

“Wh-what? No! That’s absurd!” Roman protests, “I’m not angry at Thomas--”

“But you are,” Virgil interrupts, rising to his feet, “You’re angry at both Patton and Janus, yeah, but they’re just targets to throw your misplaced anger at. Because you don’t want to admit it’s actually Thomas--”

“Yes, because you’re wrong, Mary Mary Q-quite Misconstrued!” Roman puffs up his chest, trying to keep his head high, “I--I’d never, I can’t hate Thomas--”

“Whoa, I didn’t say you hated him,” Virgil says, gently tugging Roman’s hands into his own, “there’s a difference between being mad at someone for something, and hating them.”

Roman looks at him with almost a wild gaze to his eyes, so close to almost hyperventilating. Virgil can almost see the invisible cracks in Roman’s skin, his multitude of facades peeling away before Virgil’s eyes. He looks at Roman and sees himself. 

“I used to think they were the same thing,” Virgil begins, “But they’re not. Hate is when you abhor ill will towards someone, when you wish them dead or worse. Anger...anger is just a form of fear. And it’s okay to feel and experience that anger, you don’t have to repress it.”

“I’m not scared of Thomas,” Roman scoffs, his gaze drawn to the forest floor rather than Virgil.

“But you are afraid that if Thomas can accept Janus and possibly Remus, then he could just as easily change his mind regarding you, right?” Virgil questions, “You’re afraid because all you've ever done has been in Thomas’ best interest and suddenly now you’re being told all it’s done is hurt him. You’re afraid but you don’t want to admit it, so you turn to anger instead because that’s better than being scared, right?”

“I’m not…” Roman trails off, clenching his jaw. Virgil is fully expecting to get punched by the way his body tenses up. Roman does lunge towards him just then, arms flailing out. Virgil doesn’t even have a chance to raise his arms up in defense before he gets an armful of blubbering prince once more.

“I’m supposed to be Thomas’ hero, he told me I was, but what if I’m not? W-what if I never was? And--and I have to be good, Virgil, I can’t be evil--”

Roman lets it all go then. It’s a tidal wave of anxiety and fears, of self-doubt and self-deprecation. Almost any other person would become overwhelmed by how much perturbation Roman’s kept hidden all these years. But Virgil is Anxiety, his realm is terror and trepidation. He’s experienced every fear-induced thought and more under the sun. He understands it better than perhaps anyone else ever could.

He knows Roman will most likely clam up after today. That later on, they’ll need to address these things in detail and take care of the bruises mottling his skin. Roman will need encouragement to rebuild his confidence and to turn away from self-destructive habits. Both of which are things that Virgil struggles with all too well. He knows it to feel as impossible as walking across a tightrope blindfolded. Right now, however, all Roman needs is for someone to listen.

And so listen Virgil does.