#i was in fact hysterically laughing and simultaneously crying on the way home

[biisabelle]

picture this: me pulled over on the side of the road in the snow, after the most hellish day ever, patiently waiting for the police officer who pulled me over to unscrew my license plates and take them because my registration was expired for OVER 13 MONTHS

[blackbat05]

I need a break

Shangqi x Reader (Platonic) 

A/N: I feel like I’m loosing steam towards the end of my placement and wow I have never needed a break this badly before. Perhaps a short Shangqi x Reader imagine where they are both University students. Seriously at this rate I’ll just be solely a Shangqi writer HAHAHA. Doing this on my phone because I don’t want to open my work computer. Let’s see where this impromptu idea takes me to. Hope you enjoy it and as always like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: None really, just friends supporting each other! I guess there’s an inaccurate timeline if you look at the MCU but hey this is an imagine plus if you look at some of the wiki pages, Shangqi is actually born in 1998/1999. So appreciate if you’re kind enough to go with the flow to read this comfort fic! 

‘Y/N!’ Shangqi rushes to catch up with you after class. You made an effort to conceal your tiredness but he saw it right through. ‘Gosh…you alright?’

You think to yourself. Were you really alright? The answer was pretty obvious. You were ten weeks into your placement and your emotions were a jumbled up mess. Having to deal with work responsibilities was one problem, school assignments were another issue all together. At this point, you felt like you were just getting through each week for the sake of it.

At first, you believed that what you were going through was simply a transition to becoming an adult. You thought that naturally, you would be able to persevere through the stressful periods by yourself. But of course, it has been hard.

You were a social work intern at a neighborhood youth centre, thirty minutes away if you took the train and bus. The work was fulfilling in it’s own ways, but recently there were self-doubts filling your brain, if you were really cut out for the job in the future. If you weren’t, what else could you do?

As you sat with Shangqi in the school’s student-ran cafe, you found yourself pouring out the exact same concerns to him. Credit to him, Shangqi never interrupted your monologue, he just simply listened. That’s what best friends were for. That’s what you did for him to when he ran into issues with his family.

Even then, he couldn’t deny that hearing you doubt yourself broke his heart. He had known you since high school. You mostly kept to yourself and one or two close friends. Despite joining the school’s athletic team where you were one of the main athletes, you preferred to stay in the shadows unlike some of your teammates. That didn’t stop you from going out of your way to help other students in need; like helping the girl who was in an arm cast to copy the social studies notes, even if it meant you had to do it twice. Or maybe just talking to a friend who was stressed out about their results.

Basically, you had studied your ass off to get a secured spot at this university who were only one of the few that offered the degree. He remembers you telling him the moment you got your offer, ‘I’m finally good at something. I don’t have to worry anymore!’

Shangqi wasn’t stupid. The pandemic had done some crazy things. And by crazy, it affected the self-esteem that you had been working so hard on by participating in various projects and events, with you being in charge of a drama production that was promoting on mental health. That was a big deal considering that you were a major introvert.

Online engagement was never easy. In fact he has heard some of your struggles that you’ve shared with him regarding this and it only makes him admire you even more. For someone who preferred to keep to themselves, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, to take on a role that wasn’t just simply about helping people - that took guts.

‘I’m sorry I’m just loading you with all this. I just feel…’ You trailed off, suddenly becoming emotional again. Again, Shangqi does not pry. ‘That I can’t do anything right.’ You emphasize that you had ended the statement for you were unsure that you could keep your cool if you had tried to continue on.

‘If I hear you saying sorry another time,’ he chides, ‘you’re paying for our meal later.’ Your lips curved upwards slightly before returning to its somber position. Shangqi decides that a meal won’t cut it. He needs to deploy ‘Operation Y/N’. Standing up with your buzzer to collect the food, Shangqi whips out his phone. There will be a few changes for today.

Food was definitely a cure in this situation, but it was only a part of the solution. After inhaling your ramen at light speed, Shangqi tells you that today will be a different Friday. ‘And you can’t complain! It’ll be a weekend tmr,’ he tells you. So why not? You figured that even if you went back home early, your head wouldn’t be in the right place to complete the essay for your English module.

‘Hold up! The VR studio that Katy was talking about?’ You look at the tickets inside the taxi that was taking you and Shangqi to the location. ‘How did you even, it was so hard to get these tickets!’ From the time Shangqi met you outside the classroom, he had yet to see you so ecstatic. Until now.

‘Well,’ Shangqi gives his best shrug. ‘I called in a favor from a friend. Said that it was for emergency purposes.’ He raised his fingers to make connotations in the air much to your amusement.

‘Wow… just how much do I not know about you Mr Popular?’ You teased. Shangqi decides to leave the fact on him having to persuade the Wakandan Princess in giving him free tickets.

‘Please! I swear whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! It’s for Y/N!’

‘Ey well why didn’t you say so? If it’s for that nice friend, of course!’ Shuri leaves the entrance of the compound, an exasperated Shangqi trailing behind.

Yeah, the VR studio that Katy told them about was also funded by King T’Challa himself. With stunning life like visuals thanks to Wakandan technology, the VR studio was located in a middle class neighborhood. T’Challa believed that no matter where kids came from, they should have the right to enjoy and to explore the world. For now, he wasn’t ready to share that he was on the way on becoming a full-fledged Avenger yet - you just had too much on your plate. He’ll just have to settle with this white lie.

‘Is Katy coming?’ You were on the verge of vibrating off your seat. ‘She would love this place!’ Even when you were struggling, Y/N still manages to think about other people. Today, Y/N will put her needs first.

As if to answer your previous question, you can see an equally excited Katy waiting for the two of you at the roundabout. ‘HEL-LO EVERYONE! LET’S GET OUR FRIDAY STARTED IN PROPER SHALL WE?’ Her loud voice had attracted stares, some very displeased looks too but at this point in time, you didn’t give a damn. Katy was right, it was time to enjoy!

You wished that you could slow down time, or even replay it continuously when you needed cheering up because the only thing you felt was pure happiness - euphoria even. Your stomach was in knots for laughing hysterically together with Katy when Shangqi jumped in shock from a surprise scare from a zombie. ‘I’m keeping that for leverage,’ she tells you, quietly slipping her phone into her fanny pack. 

The Wakandans had really outdone themselves this time. Your favorite VR was the paradise VR. Slipping the headgear, you say goodbye to the smiles of Katy and Shangqi, whisking away to a beach that oddly reminded you of your dream destination - Hawaii. From where you were standing, you were surrounded by green and majestic islands. Despite their sheer size, you weren’t intimidated. In fact, you were healing. 

Your mind was no longer in the room of the VR studio. How could it when the sun kissed your skin, giving you the much needed energy that you were lacking for so long? In the room, the two sees you kick your shoes to the side, going barefoot. It may have seem strange, but with the monitor beside you, your actions were perfectly logical. 

As a kid, you used to despise the prickly feeling of sand in between your toes. But now, you grew to love the sensation that each grain of sand had on your skin. It made you feel grounded, that everything was going to be ok. You raise your virtual hand to touch your face - were you crying? 

‘She must have been really stressed huh?’ Katy whispers to Shangqi who nods in return. How he hated the fact that you were giving so much to your work but still felt underappreciated. Forget the Avengers with superhuman abilities, you were the true MVP. The VR ends and you remove your headgear. ‘I’m ok,’ you automatically reassure them despite the dry tears left on both cheeks. You step down the platform slowly, trying to regain sense of the real world. 

What you didn’t expect was the two embracing you in a hug, squishing you in between them. Maybe that had set off the waterworks. For someone like Katy, she had sage advice.

‘Life can be pretty shitty right? But I’m so proud of you fighting it Y/N. Just remember that it’s ok to be weak. I mean, I’ve seen worse from Shangqi,’ she jabs her finger towards his direction, earning a glare from him. That’s Katy, always trying to add a bit of humor to this grey world. Calming down, you let go of the both of them. ‘Thanks guys, for everything.’ 

‘Hey,’ Shangqi responds, slinging his arm over your shoulder. ‘We’re friends, so we don’t leave each other behind.’ Phone beeping, he retrieves it to check the message. ‘And look at that, nice timing. Who wants Korean BBQ?’ 

Trailing behind them, you get an amusing view of Shangqi bickering with Katy on how many Soju bottles she’s allowed to order later. As San Francisco welcomed the night, you were just thankful that you had the two of them to walk through this crazy maze called life. 

‘Last one to the shop is paying!’ 

‘Oh you’re on Mister!’  

A/N: I really just think that this was also an imagine for me to cope too. So I can only hope to finish my placement/assignments/exams well! To anyone who does studies and work simultaneously, I fucking respect you (allow me to use expletives for now, these people deserve the respect). If you’re going through a stressful time, I hope this brings the slightest comfort for you and remember… YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Again, thank you for reading! 

[oleksiak-pettersson]

Baby P - Elias Pettersson

From my old blog (oh-holy-alien)

 The unspoken rule on roadies was as follows, you wake baby Pettersson up, you babysit him the whole next day. It was taken pretty seriously. To the point where even Coach Green purposely booked his rooms a floor above the Pettersson suite no matter where they went.

   This trip to Columbus was no exception, Elias had insisted you and Liam join him. As Elias’s ‘good luck’ charm he refused to let you stay home during road trips, the fact that you had a son 8 months ago made him feel even luckier.

  “Well, that only took twenty minutes.” You glide into the adjoining room. The baby went down easily after his bedtime bottle. 

  Elias was lying in the middle of the king-sized bed, remote in hand. Brock sat on the couch, eyes glazed at the tv.

   “He went down so quickly?” Elias questions, glimpsing his watch to confirm the passage of time. 

  “Yeah, he did not nap well on the plane. Stechy tried to put him to sleep by watching Paw Patrol but Liam was more interested in the faces his uncle Brock was making.” Shooting a look at Brock who shrugs, you make your way to the bed and plop down beside your husband. “Who are we waiting on?”

   Looking up from the tv, Brock glances at his phone than to the door. 

   “Hutty was just grabbing some Gatorade and Thatcher and Troy should be here any moment.” A knock sounds at the door just as Brock finishes his sentence. “I’ll get it.”

  “Wow, not even his room and he’s letting people in.” You giggle and turn to your husband.

   Elias smiles oafishly and scoots over be curled into your side. His face rests in the crook of your neck as he places kisses where he can reach.

  “Of course as soon as the kids asleep, the parents are canoodling,” Troy smirks as he steals Brock’s spot on the couch.

   Thatcher and Brock trail behind, Brock dropping to the floor in front of the couch as Thatcher relaxes on the rest of the couch.

   “You’re just jealous you can’t bring Phoebe on roadies to cuddle.” Elias chirps back.

    “How much fun would that be?” Brock’s face lights up at the idea. “You think we could convince Green to do a dogs weekend trip?”

  The idea has the whole room in hysterics. The door sounds with a knock once again, a giggly Hutty evidently behind the door.

  “Go let your teammate in.” You glance at Elias for barely even a second and he’s up, following your instructions.

  “Damn, married three years and he’s still crazy whipped.” Thatcher barks. 

   Ben follows Elias into the room and plops himself on the empty queen size bed.

   “So where does Brock sleep then? I thought you two were road roomies.” He states as he leans against the unused pillows.

   “In the adjoining room. He and Liam are road roomies now.” Elias shrugs as he returns to his same spot curled up with you.

   “Yeah it works well, they have the same mental age.” Troy chirps.

   The boys laugh and Hutty gets up from the bed.

   “Just going to peek in on your setup in there.” He walks to the door, opening it quietly. His head peeks in and then retreats, closing the door forcefully.

   Your eyes go wide, you spin to look at Elias. His eyes are wide as well, already wagering your reaction. It’s almost slow motion as the rest of the men in the room freeze, eyes wide. Hutty realizing what he’s just done stops dead. The cries that come are instant. The baby has awoken.

   “Nooooooo.” You and Ben cry simultaneously. 

  You remove yourself from Elias’s grip and get up, ready to calm your baby. Elias scoots up the bed to sit on the edge, prepared to jump into daddy duty at any moment. 

   “Looks like it’s Hutty-sitter duty tomorrow!” Troy sing-songs, finally over his shock. 

   “Date day from mommy and daddy?” Brock suggests, eyebrows rising suggestively.

  “Do not ever call me daddy again.” Elias demands, face stoic and annoyed.

  You re-enter the room, the baby in hand, rocking him soothingly as you go. 

   “Sorry boys, movie night is a no-go. Baby P is going to have a long night then a fun day with uncle Hutty!” You coo in your sweet baby voice you reserve only for Liam. 

  Elias reaches out and takes the baby from you, holding him close to his chest. You and Brock return to the adjoining room, you grab the baby’s stuff. Brock settles in his bed for the night.

   “Sleep well, Brock. You might need your earplugs tonight. Don’t worry though, we’ll keep him with us.” You smile as you wave goodnight. 

   You return to the room, shutting the door quietly. Elias’s teammates have vacated the room, Elias stands in the middle of the floor, his shirt gone and baby against his skin. The sight warms your heart and you stand by the door to watch your husband with your son.

   “Yeah, get it all out, Li. Cry it out. When you’re ready, let’s get you to bed. Okay, sweet boy?” He coos to the baby before starting to mumble in Swedish. 

  You move behind Elias’s back to look at your tired boy. Liam’s face is resting on his dad’s shoulder, eyes blinking closed for some time then open slowly then back closed. You put your hand in Elias’s hair and start to run your fingers through the blonde locks.

   “He’s falling asleep”. You smile at the sleepy boy. “Just needed some cuddles with daddy.”

   A snort can be heard through the wall and you know Brock is laughing at the noun you’ve used in reference to your husband.

  “You think we should put him in the other bed by himself?” Elias questions, turning to face you. Your hand falls from his hair to the nape of his neck as you make eye contact.

   “Oh yeah, we’ll just make a pillow barricade around him and he’ll be fine. He’s not too much of a wiggle worm.”

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   As per the road rules regarding baby P, a nervous Ben Hutton showed up at your hotel room door at 8:30 am sharp. Before he can even knock, you swing the door open and smile widely.

  “Good morning! How’d you sleep?” You pronounce each syllable with such enthusiasm that Ben looks scared.

  “Well thank you.” He looks around you and into the room.

     “Oh yeah. Come on in.” You lead him into the room. 

    Elias sits at the mini kitchenette, Liam in an improvised high chair babbling away as Elias tries to feed him his mashed peas and carrots.

  “So he slept well last night. He’ll be ready for a nap around 11:30, he’ll sleep for about two hours. He’ll need to be changed and fed after his nap. I’ll come to get him from you before warm-up tonight. Everything you’ll need is in his diaper bag. Any questions, you can just text us or Brock.” You smile, handing him the bag.

   “Brock?” Ben questions as he pulls the bag over his shoulder. 

  “Yeah, he knows Liam’s schedule quite well and he’s really good with him,” Elias says from his seat. He begins to clean the baby’s face with a wipe.

   He removes the bib from Liam’s neck and smiles at the cheeky boy. Liam laughs at his dad then raises his arms to be picked up. As Elias goes to grab him, Liam shrieks.

   “Also if he makes that noise, he wants his momma,” Elias states as he backs away from the baby, allowing you to move in and pick him up.

  “Okay, so you should be good to go.” You press kisses to the chubby cheek of your son. He giggles and puts his arms around your neck. “You be good for Uncle Hutty, okay?”

  You move towards Elias, holding the baby out towards him. “Say bye-bye to daddy!”

  Elias grabs the baby and presses kisses to his face. Liam squeals and kicks his legs out, the proceeds to grab Elias’s face and press his own sloppy kisses on his dad.

   Elias hands the baby to Ben, as they wander towards the door, Liam begins to wave. You wave back to him. As the door shuts, your shoulders sag with relief.

   “Holy shit! Freedom at last!” Elias cheers.

   Your mouth opens in a playful gasp as you swat at your husband. He laughs and uses your outstretched hand to pull you into his chest.

  “You know damn well I love our son, but I haven’t had time alone with my sexy wife in forever. I just want you to myself!” Elias whines, pressing his lips to your gently.

   Your arms go around his waist, trying to pull him closer. His lips become harder against yours, almost bruising in force. His tongue pokes out and begins to trace your lips, prodding for entry into your mouth.

   “Okay! Let’s get the show on the road. Oh my fucking god! Are you two kidding me?” Brock had decided to enter through the adjoining door at that exact moment.

    You hit Elias’s chest lightly. “You didn’t lock the adjoining door?”

  He shrugs. “Didn’t think about it. Kind of forgot about our other grown-up child.”

  “Hey! I’m older than both of you.” Brock protests. “Let’s just go on this stupid city tour.” 

   He pouts as he leads you and Elias out of the hotel.

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   The day had been wonderful, the freedom flowing through your veins was like a high you couldn’t come down from. Although you missed your baby.

  You had arrived at the rink with the rest of the team who’d gone on the tour. Elias was looking sharp in his suit and you couldn’t keep your hands off of him.

   He walks with you tucked under his arm, your hand sneaks into the back pocket of his pants, cupping his ass.

   “Will you stop it?” He questions, leaning his face into the side of your head to hide his red cheeks. “This is how we ended up with Liam.”

  “Yeah but maybe a second wouldn’t be too bad.” You smirk as he pulls away, eyes bulging slightly.

  “Really? Another baby?” He asks.

  You begin to answer as a dishevelled Ben Hutton walks up, Liam strapped into his chest in a baby bjorn. 

  “Please take your child back.” He states.

  You laugh. “Was he good?”

  Elias removes his arm from around you to grab Liam who smiles cheekily at his father.

  “He was. We went out for lunch with Thatcher and Troy. Liam refuses to eat and sat across from me giving me the alien death stare.” Ben removes the baby carrier from his body and runs off.

  “Well, I think he learned his lesson.” You smile and kiss the infant's head.

[caffeineinducedbeing]

who lives, who dies, who tells your story: chapter four

TW: aftermath of torture, pain, blood.

******************

“That’s where you think Will is?” 

Horace inquired, looking at the big warehouse sized building with a skeptical eye. 

Halt nodded, “That’s where I think he is.” he said matter of factly. 

“And you know this, how? We’ve circled the area twice, the gates are chained shut, and dusty. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for years, Halt.” 

Halt raised an eyebrow at Horace's mistrust. He understood it of course, worry for Will had been driving both of them to near insanity for the last several days. Horace had come immediately to Will's rescue at Halt's request, not that Halt ever had any doubt he would.

“Tug went crazy when we first caught sight of this place- reminded me of when we found Will in Skandia that one time. It was the same reaction here…” 

Halt was quiet for a moment, but Horace felt he had more to say so he restrained from replying just yet. 

“Plus, I just have a feeling.” 

Horace nodded at the sentence he knew was coming. When it came to Will, Horace knew that Halt would always just know. Whether or not there's facts or evidence. Will was an instinct for him, he was his purpose, his destiny. Halt would always have a feeling toward what decisions were to be made on his behalf.

“Well, how do we get in then?” Horace now asked.

Halt moved away from the small ridge of land they had been watching from, and walked back toward where their horses were grazing on the dry grass. Along with Tug, who’s nervous air hadn’t subsided since they got within 100 feet of the property. Tug was pacing as well as a horse can, whinnying every so often, and letting out a whine like sound. Like a cry.

“I think our best bet would be the back entrance, that’s likely to have less security.”

The older ranger said at a louder volume then they had been speaking before. The haunted looking place had automatically insinuated silence in the minds of the knight and ranger. And while they were observing the property they had adopted hushed voices in respect to that.

Horace replied at the same volume, 

“Alrighty then.”

He sheathed his sword, and grabbed his worn shield, painted with a symbol of an oakleaf. As Halt buckled his scabbard and double checked his quiver, before swinging it over his shoulder. 

They simultaneously started moving toward the building together, and stopped once more at the ridge. Looking on in silence for a moment before Halt broke it with a sharp whisper, 

“Let’s go get him back.” 

—-------------------

Will hovered in the veil between lucidity, and unconsciousness. Still bound, shirtless and bloody in Alaric’s chains. 

He felt dead, although he wasn’t. Which was a shame in his mind, death would be more painless than this. The agony threatened to overwhelm him, and he questioned for a moment how the hell he was still alive. Everything hurt. Will prided himself for his high pain-tolerance, but my god, everything. Hurt. He stopped fighting the trembles long ago, and his throat was on fire from all the screams that had torn their way through his mouth.

He would die here. He knew that much. There was no plausible way that Halt would find him, and if he did…well Will was smart enough to know that he’d be dead by then. 

So all he could do was wait. In the merciful aloneness that Alaric had granted him. Even just for a few moments. 

In these blessedly quiet moments of numbness, Will’s only comfort was thoughts of home. He and Horace, fighting side by side, through moments of battles or missions. Sitting on the patio together at his cabin, watching the sun rise over Redmont. The brothers laughing together in hysterical relief, as they came down from the high of a close run-in on a mission. Halt watching in the corner of his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Halt.

Oh god, Halt.

Halt had been the Father Will needed. When the grisly Ranger would knock him on the head, call him an idiot, Will somehow felt warm, proud, loved. Will had always had the need to prove himself to his pears to receive love, and affection. But with Halt, Will never felt that he had to earn it to feel loved. Halt was a Father to him, just as much as he was a son to Halt. He had saved his life on too many occasions to recount, he had held him through his worst nights, he had nursed him back to health when sickness raged his body. He had been there when he graduated, he had been there after difficult missions, he had been there after Macindaw, and he had been with him in Clonmel, and Nihon Ja. Any life-changing, major events in Will's life, Halt had been by his side. A support system of sorts. Halt always knew the right time in place for everything. Whether it was a knock on the head after hearing about his failed proposal, or a tearful hug after he had married the love of his life.

Alyss.

How does one even begin to describe Alyss.

Will would never understand what his wife saw in him. All he knew was that he loved her, and somehow- somehow, she loved him too. Alyss was one of Will’s wins. She was a victory over everything that’s been an obstacle to Will’s happiness throughout his life. She was his light, his life, his everything. Will only hoped she could move on from him. 

He hoped they all could move on. 

And with that comforting thought, Will drifted off to a pain-induced sleep once more.

[andiandyandee]

Terrible Things

Some Sweet Logicality angst with a happy ending, because my Punk AU isn’t working rn. I’m getting to it, I promise lol.

Words: 2,705 - Find it on ao3

Okay, Here’s The Fic:

     “This is Professor Logan Balmer. He will be giving a guest lecture today on the importance of emotions. I presume you will all give him your full attention.” Virgil bristled at the name, brushing a memory too far back to actually remember in detail more than the name itself. As it were, this class was at 8 AM and no matter how familiar the name was, he couldn’t be bothered to listen to some old nerd talk about why it was important to cry it out. He had a bleeding heart dad for that anyway. So he tuned him out, doodling on his notebook, and wishing the 90 minutes would pass faster. He only looked up because someone close to him yelled out to the professor

      “What about love? Is it important too?” The professor got a soft look on his face. 

      “Yes, Love is important, but there are far too many types of love for it to be classified as a single emotion. Love can be the way a parent cares for their child, it could be the way one cares for their partner, the way someone cares for their plants, or their pets, or their books. Love can be something you earn, or it can be something that is innate. Of course, all love is important, but the love you should look for should endeavor to keep in your lives is unasked for and freely given. You should find unconditional, chaotic love and let it warp your life because it will always make you better for it, even if it hurts sometimes.”

      “Why would we want something that hurts us?” Virgil snarked. “That seems like a terrible idea.” Logan met Virgil’s eyes and smiled a little.

      “Yes, Mr. Sanders, it can certainly seem like a terrible idea.” Virgil was a little confused at that, seeing as he had not introduced himself with his name to this professor. Logan continued as if him knowing Virgil’s name was not strange in the slightest.

      “The problem is, sometimes, that knowing someone who loves you unconditionally, someone who chooses to be around you and wants nothing more than to see you happy is terrible, because they love you when you don’t deserve it, they love you when you break their heart and they love you when you break your own. They are there when you ugly cry and when you’re on top of the world and they always, without fail, show you that they love you. And it’s terrible because you have to live with the fact that that person has given you a part of them, they have put so much hope and faith and soul into loving you that you will never escape that, and even later, years after the last time you saw them, or they see you, the love will still be there.

      Maybe it’s a broken, fragile thing now, after so many years, but it’s still there in the way you can’t look at certain colors without thinking of them, how that one song always feels both like being burned alive and being safe. Maybe you never see them again, and that love withers away into a fleeting thing that only comes up in the smell of a specific pastry or a phrase so few people say that it could only ever mean them. Maybe you see them every day, but you can never bring yourself to just say hello.

      The problem is that when someone loves you like that, you will love them back. You will give them a part of your soul that nobody has ever seen, will never see, and even though they gave you a part of theirs, the same size, made of the same love, it will never quite fill the hole that was left when you gave yours away. There will always be cracks that can only be filled in with inside jokes that are just between you and ghosts, now. Between you and Polaroid pictures faded and stuck in a box in the back of the closet you never use. 

      But let that not deter you from loving. Love recklessly, impossibly so, and fill in the cracks that are left behind with gold, because it is in the cracks where we find ourselves. In the way you will never turn off their favorite song, in the way you take the long way home in fall because they loved to see the leaves change, and so did you. Let that love, the one they left with you, remind you that it is okay to feel, that you are more than your insecurities, that you are worthy of love. Let your love follow them around in your favorite colors, in the way you make your coffee, in the way you sing that song that’s always stuck in your head. Love well beyond what you think is possible, and you will find the world will love you back.” Logan took a shuddering breath and smiled at the class. “Sorry, I believe I went on a bit of a tangent, there. Were there any other questions?” Most of the class had misty eyes, all of them a little shell-shocked. “No? If that’s the case, I suppose my lecture is done. Thank you for your time.” The class filed out, but Virgil was still glued to his seat. He didn’t remember why, but he knew it was achingly important that he spoke to this professor.

      “Virgil? You may leave now,” Professor Addams gestured at the open door. “Unless there is something you need?”

      “Ah, apologies, Remy. I believe young Mr. Sanders is waiting for me. If you aren’t opposed, you can go, and I can lock the door and shut off the lights when I leave.”

      “Oh, sure, no worries Lo.” Professor Addams left, and suddenly the lecture hall felt too small. There wasn’t enough room between Logan and himself, but he still didn’t know why. 

      “I’m surprised you remember me, honestly. It’s been so many years, and so many changes.” Logan looked nervous and heartbroken. He glanced briefly over Virgil, who suddenly felt self-conscious in a way he hadn’t since before he had started transitioning. “I like the name, it suits you quite well.”

      “Thank you, I- I picked it myself.” Virgil tried to joke, but it came out a little hysterical. “I don’t- don’t actually remember you.” Logan raised an eyebrow, but he still looked incredibly sad. “Not really, nothing beyond the name, and that lecturer’s voice you use.” Virgil tucked his arms tightly around himself, trying to keep himself from crying because he didn’t know why he wanted to cry. 

      “You were very young, the last time we spoke. I’m surprised you remembered my name, though. I don’t think you ever called me by it.” The half-smile on Logan’s face was shaky, too, and he was still across the room and simultaneously entirely too close. “I believe the three nicknames I received were ‘LoLo’, ‘Papa’, and when you were particularly belligerent, ‘Mom’.” Logan said ‘belligerent’ the same way one would say ‘darling’ or ‘adorable’. Virgil couldn’t breathe. How long had it been since he had someone he referred to as a parent beyond Patton? A decade? Longer? He was suddenly slammed with the memory of fire, of a hospital room and the nurses who wouldn’t let him move, and it had been fifteen years since then, and the memory still hurt, and the stupid scar was still there on his leg, barely noticeable unless he went out in shorts, because it didn’t tan like the rest of his skin, stayed so pale it was nearly white. He looked to Logan, and then away, so he couldn’t see his face.

      “You left. You left when I was hurt, when I was in the hospital. I- we never saw you again, and Dad would never tell me where you went but I knew, I knew you were okay because he stopped wearing the ring, he took it off and put it in his jewelry box and he still cleans it every Sunday evening, and if you would have died he’d probably still wear the damn thing, he tells people he’s engaged when they flirt with him still, and I forgot that he was, because I was six when you left, and it’s been so long since then that I can’t even believe it. Your stupid lecture about the dangers of playing with the stove stuck, but you didn’t, and oh my god, you’re old now, and, and-” Virgil’s mouth snapped shut, and when he looked back to Logan, Logan, he didn’t know what to say because there were tears pouring down both of their faces, and there was still that stupid, god it was so stupid, engagement ring on his finger, and he knew it matched perfectly to the one his Dad still had, and he was so angry, now. “How could you do that to me? To us?” Logan nodded.

      “I did. I.. what I did was terrible, and foolish, certainly. And I will never forgive myself for it. I am so sorry, Virgil, for any pain I caused, had I known you were in this class beforehand I wouldn’t have agreed to teach it, I know I can never apologize enough for what I did to you, god, I don’t even know how to start, but I am so incredibly sorry, and I am so glad you are okay, now, at least I hope you are okay, and I will be sure to keep my distance, I had hoped, when I saw you, you wouldn’t remember me, I did not want to stir up those terrible memories again, I won’t endeavor to ask anything of you, you need not forgive me, but I hope you find solace in the fact that I still feel terrible.” Virgil didn’t realize until halfway through that Logan wasn’t apologizing for leaving.

      “Are- are you apologizing for the fire?” Virgil was hysterical. “Of all of the things you could apologize for, and you chose the one that wasn’t your fault?” Logan sputtered.

      “I- it was my fault, and you were nearly killed, of course, I am apologizing.” Virgil laughed, a little maniacally, moving closer to Logan, but still keeping a good ten feet between them.

      “It was not in any way your fault that I- in all of my six-year-old wisdom- tried to make cookies on a gas burner! How could you have possibly known the stove was on, or that the stupid light above it would short out? It could have happened at any time, it ended up being while we were there alone! How the hell is that on you?”

      “I didn’t notice you turning the stove on, nor did I notice the fact that the light had been flickering. I didn’t even think to check and see if I had turned all of the burners off, all I did was tell you how dangerous the stove was! I couldn’t protect you from the flames. The only thing I could do was hold you while you screamed, and keep you still while the paramedics tried to stop you from bleeding out in the driveway.” Logan’s voice broke, and Virgil was astounded. “When your father got to the emergency room, and I told him what had happened, I- he was so angry, so upset, and he was right, it was my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed. How could I ever have thought I was fit to be your parent when I couldn’t even watch you for two hours without almost-”

      “I’m fine,” Virgil assured the man, his hands fluttering, trying to comfort him but too far away. He took a few steps forward, but Logan was still frozen in place. “I was out of the hospital in less than two weeks, it barely scarred. I have never, not once, since then forgotten to turn off the burner when I was done with it. I don’t forgive you, Lo, because there’s nothing to forgive. It was an accident, and it wasn’t your fault. And anyway, you did protect me. That fire should have killed me, and probably you, too, but all it did was ruin the kitchen, melt the shit out of your ugly fake leather jacket and make one of my legs tan funny. It really looks like the only one who was really hurt was you.”  Virgil laughed. “I mean, Jesus, I wouldn’t be surprised if you still had pleather stuck in your hair.”

      “I shaved my head to get it out.” Logan croaked. “I went to the hospital across town so I wouldn’t be in the same building, so Patton wouldn’t feel compelled to talk to me. I only had second-degree burns, I was out in two days. I went to the house, cleaned everything up as best I could, ordered the new appliances to replace the ruined ones, packed my things, and left a note on the kitchen table.” Logan looked nauseated. “I left my cell phone, and moved all the money in my personal account to your fathers, and I left. Moved back to Florida, where my parents were. I stayed there until I could get a new job, and tried my best to not let the guilt consume me. I failed,  miserably, for at least 5 years before I managed to get to a place where I could go to work without having a breakdown. I still can’t use a stove. I’ve eaten nothing but microwave meals and cold food for fifteen years.” Logan laughed a little at that. Virgil snorted.

      “Dad is going to kick your ass when he hears that. You know how he is about nutrition.” 

      “Damn right, he is.” A voice from the doorway spoke up. Patton was standing there, arms crossed, blonde hair pulled into a loose bun, looking absolutely unamused. “Sorry to eavesdrop, kiddo, you were late for our lunch, so I came looking for ya.” Patton addressed Virgil with a smile before turning back to Logan. “You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that your lovely, beautiful mother assured me you were alive, I would have called the police to put out a missing person alert,” Patton spoke with a very calm, very even tone. “When I got home there was a goodbye note and a refrigerator in my dining room, and a stove on the front porch. And for seven years, the only thing that assured me you were alive was your mom calling every Sunday afternoon. And then she calls to tell me you moved back, and that she was sure you would come to visit, because you just loved us so much, how couldn’t you?” Patton shook his head. “A town of 2,000 and I never saw you, not even once.” Patton had passed Virgil, was now standing less than a foot away from Logan, a finger pressed up against his chest. “For eight years, I waited, hoping you’d come around, and I find out the only reason you didn’t was guilt?” Logan opened and closed his mouth a few times before swallowing and nodding. “I am going to beat you senseless, Logan Alexander Balmer. How could you?” Logan laughed, still crying.

      “Sanders. We had already changed it, the approval paperwork came when you were still…” Patton took Logan’s face in both of his hands. “I still use Balmer academically and professionally, though.” 

      “Absolutely senseless. I will shake you so hard that brain of yours will turn into soup.” Logan laughed again, still sounding breathless, but the tears had stopped.

      “I am sorry, Patton. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.” Patton just shook his head.

      “Of course I forgive you, you moron. You still owe me a wedding. And I owe you a meal that wasn’t cooked in a microwave, goodness gracious what is wrong with you-”

      Logan cut Patton off by kissing him, tenderly and gently, trying to let all of his apologies pour into it. 

      “Okay, ew.”  Virgil groaned from his spot a few steps away. “Get a room.” Logan flushed red, and Patton just smiled at the both of them.

      “Let’s go home.” 

Tag List: @datfearlessfangirl @princemesscharming @illogicalthinking @holliberries

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 59

I am so, so sorry for the delay on this week’s chapter. My hours at work have changed, and on top of it I had to make a 16 hour round trip in the car this past weekend.

The good news is, I have the next 4 days off from work, so I should be able to post on schedule going forward.  Shoutout to @charlylimph-blog and @baelpenrose for checking on me when I didn’t post Tuesday. Y’all are awesome.

I woke up to a faint smell, reminiscent of chili, and the whir of atmospheric scrubbers working overtime.  Groggily, I sat up and looked around, trying to find a clock that I slowly realized I didn’t own.  Instead of flicking open my datapad and scorching my eyes with the light of a thousand suns, I rose to stagger after the sound of laughter coming from my kitchen. I rubbed my eyes as I stepped into the light, only to be greeted by a wolf whistle and a simultaneous cry of dismay.

Still fighting off the blessed sleep of medication, I looked around and tried to reconcile the people in my kitchen with the faces I was expecting. A man too short to live there was standing with his back to me…That must be Alistair.  He’s early. Tyche, check.  Antoine, check plus bemused grin?  Woman with rich, dark skin and flashing white teeth, laughing…

“Xio? Where did you come from?” My nose scrunched in confusion.

“I’m going to say the same place you left your pants,” she teased.  “Nice legs.”

I glanced down and realized I was only clothed in one of Conor’s t-shirts. That explained the noise and why Alistair was very pointedly not looking at me.  Shrugging, I looked at my sister. “It covers more than some of the clothes people wear on the ship. Should I put on shorts, just in case?”

“Yes!” my assistant yelped. “That would be much preferred, Miss Reid.”

Tyche smirked as I tossed up my hands in resignation and went to assuage Alistair’s modesty.  When I returned, he was still bright red but at least facing me. Xiomara broke the silence. “Who are we still waiting on?”

“Conor and Maverick,” Antoine supplied. “Then we’ll make Maverick’s dinner while he’s in the shower and we can all eat.”

Comprehension dawned on her face. “That’s right… the food thing.  He doesn’t eat curry, I take it?”

I shook my head. “Not a huge fan, no. Sometimes he can handle vindaloo, but he’s been stressed, so we aren’t pushing it. Falafel and papadums for him.” I braced for some remark, but it never came.

“More for me,” she grinned, leaning on the counter to sneak a piece of meat before having her hand swatted away by Antoine.

“Conor eats enough to make up for it, believe me,” Tyche fake-grumbled, just as the men in question walked in.

“To make up for – oh! Curry night!” He gave a wide but exhausted smile as he waved Maverick toward the cleaning unit. “Your turn to go first, mate.” Maverick just nodded and dropped a kiss on each of our cheeks before retreating to wash off the dirt and sweat he was covered in. “Is this mine?” Conor murmured in my ear as he tugged the hem of my shirt.

“Shorts are Mav’s,” I pointed out. “I took a nap and woke up to find myself invaded.”

“You weren’t invaded,” Tyche argued. “We all arrived on time, but Grandma Kim said to let you sleep and that she would be checking when you woke up to make sure.  Before you get upset – “ she held up a hand to stop any objection I had, “it’s just a medical alert, and well within her job to set one.  She isn’t here to sic Lyric on any of us, so I’m guessing you got enough sleep for her.”

Antoine cleared his throat pointedly. “Not quite. She asked me to have you take another dose two hours after dinner.”

“Antoine…” I whined with utmost dignity. “You’re her boss. You can override her request, right?”

All vain hope was dashed by the flat look he levelled in my direction. Guess not.

“Another dose? Of what?”

My stomach sank as I remembered the sweaty Irishman currently draped around my shoulders. “Let’s wait until dinner, and I’ll tell you and Maverick first thing. I promise,” I turned my head to look in his eyes. “I just don’t want to repeat it, and it’s not fair for either of you to find out before the other.”

Eventually, everyone was washed and seated at the table. As I started to spoon some curry and lentils on my plate, Tyche cleared her throat and gave a pointed look.  Rolling my eyes and dropping my head back with a sigh, I snagged a papadum before speaking. “I got sent home from work today,” I started. “I fell asleep after several cups of Xiomara’s coffee, had a nightmare that left me screaming and hysterical. A medical scan showed that I have severe vitamin deficiency and exhaustion, so I was sent home to chug a vile concoction from GK and take a nap. Hence the pajamas.” I waved at myself in demonstration. “Noah wanted me to go to a medical bay for IV treatment and monitoring, but this was the compromise.”

“And if you aren’t better tomorrow, you’re going to the medical bay,” Maverick stated in a tone that most people used to explain that water makes things wet.

Conor apparently agreed, judging by the enthusiasm of his nod. “I encourage this and will do so – “

“Physically if necessary,” I finished for him. “Noah said the same thing. I was wondering where he got that from.”

“I got it from Antoine.”

The sound of three utensils being dropped was followed by deafening silence. Tyche, Xiomara, and I gaped at Antoine as he became very focused on the food in front of him. “This tastes of caprine… is that what it is meant to taste of?”

“Yes, it’s supposed to be goat, and don’t change the subject,” my sister grumbled. “Who did you threaten like that?”

“I am a nurse, Tyche!” he defended. “I say that quite often to recalcitrant patients, especially the elderly.  They do not like being treated for ailments – they think it means they are falling apart in their old age.  They often do not realize or understand that they will live longer if they simply get the treatment they need.”

“Speaking of falling apart,” Maverick interjected. “We finished testing on the samples from the failed swimming platforms.”

Xiomara leveled her fork like a weapon, first at Tyche and Antoine. “You? Hush.” She turned to a cringing Maverick. “You, speak. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he gulped around an unholy mouthful of falafel and ketchup. “The researchers tested samples from every individual piece of each platform. They were able to determine that the accelerated failure of the pieces was the cause of an iron-eating bacteria, not any flaw in the manufacturing or construction.”

She nodded at this news. “This is good. Keep going… what’s the bacteria and how do we rein it in?”

“Grey’s people don’t know the answer to either of those,” he answered apologetically.

“So, run it through the Ark’s database.”

“We did. Twice. Even then, it isn’t recognized.”

“Wait,” I stopped them both. “If they don’t know what it is, how do we know what it does?”

Maverick scowled at me like I asked a stupid question and should have known better. “They observed it eating the iron molecules in the metal.”

Okay, so I did ask a stupid question and should have known better. The scowl was fair, point to Maverick.

“Is there any danger to the ship as a whole?” Xiomara pressed on.

“They are trying to determine that now,” he admitted. “Only iron molecules are being… eaten? Processed? Whatever it is, only iron is affected.”

Seemingly satisfied, Xiomara nodded. “Sophia, please consider taking tomorrow to find out whatever is going on?”

My thoughts whirling at the conversational whiplash, I only shrugged. “It’s probably related to the gravity change. You know, increased anxiety, nightmares, all that.” I glanced at Antoine, hoping for confirmation.

Once again, my faith was misplaced. He shook his head, “Non. Gravity changes will cause increased anxiety, yes. But not the level of malnutrition you mentioned.  I am aware you eat regularly, if for no other reason than seeing you eat. There is no easily explained reason for you to be in such condition, and as such, I would like you to have tests done if I am not satisfied with your improvement by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Do I have to?” I groaned. “I hate doctors… no offense, Antoine.”

“I am a nurse, so none taken.”

I felt a tapping on my left shoulder and turned to see Conor leaning across Maverick. “Sophie. Love. I know you hate it. But you wouldn’t let any of us just skive off going to the doctor if we were sick.” He pointed around the table, including Alistair and Xiomara. “If one of us so much as looked a bit droopy, you know you would task yourself with barking at our heels until we were checked out.”

“You did drag me to the medbay when I cut my hand,” Tyche pointed out.

“Annnnd you brought in Antoine when you realized I wasn’t eating,” Maverick chimed in.

Traitors, I thought petulantly.

Silent through all of dinner thus far, my assistant cleared his throat. “Sophia. From what I have seen just working with you, they have a point. If I, for instance, were exhibiting the signs you are showing, would you allow me to continue attending my daily responsibilities and trust that I was addressing the issue outside of my working hours?”

“Blast and BURN it all, why are you all being so logical?”

“Guilt trips don’t work,” Maverick pointed out. “You’ll convince yourself that you are doing the right thing for us all by hiding your symptoms.”

“And working harder just to prove you’re okay,” Conor chimed in.

“Mother henning people….” Xiomara trailed off lazily before flashing a smug grin at me.

“Et tu, Brute?” I begged. “Even you won’t let me work when I’m tired?”

“One,” she ticked off, holding up a finger. “You aren’t just tired, you are somehow malnourished, despite the fact that you are the most social eater I have ever met. Two, I have let you work when you were so-called tired. You literally passed out in my office on multiple occasions – “ She held up a hand when I tried to interrupt and plowed on. “Twice, it was mid-sentence.  Three, I’ll even go with you and have tests done on myself, just in case it’s something impacting everyone.”

“Wait – “ I sputtered. “That’s your negotiation? You’ll have tests done on you, and submit to treatment if needed, just to make me go? I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Tyche muttered, glaring at me and knowing full well I heard her.

As much as I wanted to fire back at her, something inside of me wilted. Tyche would never say I was being childish if it wasn’t true. We had literal screaming matches in the past because I was too adult as a teenager. “Fine,” I spat, ashamed. “I’ll go, the day after tomorrow, if I’m still not up to snuff.”

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[puckinghell]

Home | Tyson Barrie

Summary: A new city to call home means a lot of people to leave behind Word count: 2k Note: Thank you to Tyson Barrie for being the mess we all needed in this team. We will miss you, but not as much as Gabe and Nate will. Yall can catch me crying about this until trade season next year despite the fact that he got traded to my other favorite team. I listened to More Than Words by Little Mix while writing this cause it’s the kinda emo song this trade calls for. 

--

You find out through Twitter.

It’s not Tyson’s fault, not really; he’s hanging out with Biz when he gets the call and when Biz knows something, it takes approximately 0.3 seconds before the entirety of the internet knows. 

But still, there’s something surreal about the situation. You’re sitting on the couch watching Nailed It! when your phone starts buzzing and ringing and going absolutely insane. 

The first text you see is from Mel. 

I’m so sorry, babe.

You have no idea what she’s talking about until you see a Twitter notification, staring at you from the small screen in your hand. The words are simple, yet they are impossible to comprehend.

Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot traded to the Toronto Maple Leafs

Nothing else even registers with you; you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the Avs got back for them. 

For Kerfy. And your boyfriend.

It’s almost comical, the way your world crashes and burns within seconds while Ralph doesn’t even lift an eyelid. Outside, the cars are still driving. Someone honks. The rain is softly ticking against the window. 

You have no idea how long you sit there, waiting. Thinking. A thousand thoughts whirl through your mind. 

Most of them come back to the fact that it’s not freaking fair. 

Not when Tyson has been so adamant about wanting to be in Colorado. Not when his best friends are here. Sure, he knows Morgan Rielly, likes him, but he’s not Nate. Not Gabe. Not EJ. 

God. 

It’s not fair either, that Tyson was really starting to pull his life together. He mentioned that he wanted some stability. He started looking at houses to buy. He got a puppy; the proof is currently sleeping at your feet, happily oblivious to the fact that everything is going to hell. 

He even mentioned moving in together, a few weeks ago.

There were no concrete plans; he hadn’t officially asked you yet. Just kinda casually threw into conversation that the house he was going to buy was going to have to have plenty room for two people, while he was cooking some stupidly healthy vegetable stir and simultaneously eating ice cream straight out the carton before dinner. 

“Why, is Nate finally moving in with you?” you’d teased, and he’d smiled his typical lopsided smile and said, without even blushing:

“No, but you hopefully are.” 

You were left speechless and in shock and he just started rambling about how nice it would be to have a pool - apparently he’d forgotten about the fact that it was winter for 10 months a year in Colorado - and the subject was dropped, but it had been circling in your mind.

You know you would say yes, if he asked. You would say yes to just about anything Tyson asked, and it isn’t just because his big brown eyes look suspiciously like Ralph’s. 

It’s because you know that for you, it’s always gonna be Tyson. Perhaps it always was, since the very first time you met him all those years ago, all starry eyed and bright smiled at a festival. Since he tripped over his own feet and bumped into you, and apologized profusely while Nate laughed so hard he nearly threw up. 

You’ve never loved someone as much as you love Tyson, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to love someone like that again. 

But now he’s leaving. Ripped from your hands, slipping through your fingers like sand.

It’s not that you haven’t known it could happen, not with the rumors surrounding Tyson like they’ve surrounded nobody else, but it’s a bit like the boy that cried wolf; after a while, the rumors faded into the background, because hey, it didn’t happen last time either, did it?

You let yourself fall into a comfortable sense of peace, and that was your first mistake.

No, second. First mistake was falling for an NHL player. 

Your phone rings again and you barely glance at it, the ringing sounding muffled in your ears - you don’t know how it feels to be in shock but this might be it - but then Tyson’s face flashes across the screen and you reach for it quickly, startling the puppy at your feet, who jumps up and starts whining.

“Tys?” 

It’s quiet, for a second, on the other side, and you wonder if he meant to call you. 

But then he speaks and his voice sounds a little muffled, sounds thick with emotion and empty at the same time, somehow, sounds upset, and that’s the worst.

“Are you still at my place?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m here.” Of course you are; he asked you to watch Ralph while he went out and you wouldn’t leave the dog alone, not at this age when he still needs to go outside every ten minutes and likes to eat shoes for entertainment. 

“Stay there,” Tyson says. “I’m coming home.” He pauses and you figure he has the same thought as you are having.

Home. 

But not for long.

“Stay,” Tyson repeats, a little sharply, as if he’s expecting you to run off before he gets there.

You don’t even think you could move if you tried.

“Okay.” 

He hangs up then and it takes him barely fifteen minutes to get there, even though you know the restaurant he was at was at least a 25 minute drive. He burst through the door looking disheveled, looking sad, too. 

His shoulders are slumped and he suddenly looks much more tired than he had when he left this morning. Normally, Tyson is the easiest person to read, but now there’s not really a hint of any emotion on his face. 

He doesn’t even smile when Ralph runs up to him and that’s how you know everything is so very, very wrong. 

“Tys,” you start, but then his eyes meet yours and it’s like all the words leave your mind, and all you can do is walk up to him and collapse in his arms.

He catches you easily, as you knew he would. His arms are tight around your waist, so tight it almost hurts but it’s exactly what you need; to feel him, to know he’s still there, at least for now. 

“I know,” Tyson whispers. “I know, babe.” 

You’re not quite sure what he knows and he’s probably not either, it’s just that there’s not much to say when your entire life gets ripped apart. 

You stand there for what feels like ages. Tyson moves you to the couch at some point, pulling you down with him as he falls backwards into the pillows. You can feel his heart beat under your ear with your head on his chest and the steady rhythm is the only thing keeping your mind from spiraling out of control. 

But however bad this is for you, it’s so, so much worse for him, so finally, you force yourself to sit up and smile.

“So, Toronto, huh? I guess I could be a Raptors fan.” 

“I’m actually gonna play for the Leafs,” Tyson says dryly, and suddenly you’re both laughing, hysterically giggling with tears in your eyes and it’s better than crying out of sadness but only just. 

When silence falls over the apartment, Tyson grabs your hands, his face serious again. “Hey, you know I love you, right?” 

You swallow and nod, not trusting your own voice.

“I love you too much to ask you to wait for me.” 

His words sink in slowly, then all at once, and panic washes over you as the quietness of the apartment becomes deafening.

Wait for you. Wait for him here, in Colorado.

He’s not planning on taking you with him. 

Hurt must be written clear over your face because his eyes soften, a soft “babe” passing his lips right before you yank your hands away from him, scurry away from him until your back hits the arm of the couch. 

“You’re breaking up with me.” 

It’s not a question because you know the answer. 

“I don’t want to.” Tyson’s voice is a little shaky despite the fact that he’s gritting his teeth in order to control it. “I don’t have a choice, Y/N. I’m going to move to Toronto. That’s not just a different city, that’s a different country.” 

“And you don’t want me there.” 

The crease on his forehead deepens. “I can’t ask you to leave everything you have behind. You’ve got a job here. Friends. Family.” 

You jump off the couch, now in full hysterics; tears are pushing against the back of your eyes and you feel your lungs constricting.

“But the only thing I’ve got here that I care about, that I wouldn’t wanna leave behind, is you.”

Tyson stands up too, although he’s not moving. 

“I can’t ask you to leave behind your home,” he croaks and it’s the first time you can fully see how much this is hurting him, how much this is killing him inside, breaking his heart into little pieces with each word he’s uttering. It’s the first time you forget about your own misery completely. 

So you step forward, one hand coming up to cup his cheek; he leans into your touch as if it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, his eyelids fluttering shut. His cheeks are red, like they always are when he gets upset.

You know him so well, know every single piece of him. 

“Home can be everywhere,” you mumble. “Home can be wherever you are.” 

“I don’t want you to give up everything for my dream,” Tyson all but whispers. “I chose this, not you.” 

“But I chose you.” At that, he opens his eyes, deep brown orbs locking with yours. You can tell he’s searching for a sign, anything in your expression to tell him you’re not telling the truth.

He won’t find any.

“I knew that being with you would include this. But I chose you anyway because I needed to. I need you, to be with you. Wherever that might be.” You pull a face. “And at least it’s Toronto. Can you imagine if you were traded to like. Montreal? I don’t speak French.” 

He laughs, and it’s music to your ears; then suddenly his lips are against yours in a feverish desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

It’s like your touch is the only thing that could keep him from drowning, meanwhile you’re getting lost in his lips against yours, his hands against the bare skin of your back. He starts pushing you towards the bedroom and you know you’ve not really talked about anything but you let him anyway.

This is what he needs, right now, to feel you with him, to know you’re there. And you’re gonna do whatever he needs because so many times, he’s done that for you. 

Time seems to stand still and speed up at the same time and it’s dark when you’re laying tangled in the sheets, facing each other, his fingers intwined with yours. 

He’s staring at you fondly as he speaks. “I was going to ask you to move in with me, you know. When I found a house I loved. I was gonna bake a cake and put the key in it. Gabe helped me come up with that.” 

You would have laughed at the idea of possibly choking on a key as you tried to enjoy Tyson’s famous lava cake but now you can’t, because at the sounds of Gabe’s name Tyson’s face falls. 

The Leafs don’t have a captain right now and maybe that’s better, because you know there’s nobody that could do for Tyson what Gabe did, nobody that could replace Gabe in that special place in Tys’ heart. 

No more wine nights with Mel, walks with Zoey and Ralph. No more Nate crashing for dinner, no more Josty exclaiming he’s the better Tyson, no more teasing from Z or sarcastic remarks from EJ or Colin, telling you he doesn’t know how you put up with these guys.

You’re gonna miss them, but it’s something you can deal with. Something Tyson has to deal with.

But not alone.

“Ask me,” you say, and Tyson doesn’t have to ask for clarification.

“I don’t think Toronto can be home without you. Will you please come with me?”

He seems a little nervous to ask but your answer was decided a long time ago, long before the rumors really started, maybe even the second you met him.

“Of course I’ll come with you.” 

He wraps his arms around you and he’ll do the same thing in a month, when you spend the first night sleeping on a mattress on the floor in an empty apartment in the center of Toronto, the city lights illuminating the room cause you didn’t have time to buy curtains and the hot summer air crawling up the walls. 

He wraps his arms around you and you’re home. 

[gotbts7fics]

Breaking Seven | Prologue |

Prologue | One |

[WARNING: This fic is about the cycle of abuse. It may be triggering. It deals with super heavy shit, but this needs to be talked about. You are not alone, you are worth it.]

Every couple goes through rough patches, it is completely normal. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself for the third time this week after your boyfriend of two years and you had a fight over something stupid. How were you supposed to know that your childhood friend was going to snap chat you a picture of himself shirtless, saying you were missing out. And really, was it that big of deal? He was at a pool with your brother and other friend Taehyung. Your brother, Jimin, also had snapped you pictures of him and Tae, telling you how much fun you were missing. They had invited you to go swimming tonight, but once you had mentioned it to Keith, he shut that idea down and said he wanted a movie night. Now you were sitting on your couch, crying over such a stupid fight. You wished your brother was there. Yet you were all alone, pulling a blanket up to your chin, tears streaming down your cheek, as you waited for your boyfriend to return home and tell you he was sorry for yelling at you.

“Why doesn’t your sister ever come to hangout anymore” Jungkook asked, staring at his phone. He had sent you a snap a while ago and yet you haven’t replied after opening it. Lately it seemed you were never around, something far different from the childhood friendship he was used to.

“Get over your crush, you know she’s been with that dude for like two years now, ain’t going to happen” Jimin retaliated as him and Taehyung sat across in the booth at the sports bar.

“Crush aside, he’s not wrong though, she never hangs out anymore.” Taehyung said sipping his beer. Lately it seemed you were too busy with your boyfriend to do anything. It was annoying to the trio of men sitting eating wings and drinking beer, but they chalked it up to being in love. Jimin knew you would do anything for your boyfriend and even though he didn’t like him, he accepted him. He did miss you though. You two wore thicker than thieves. Add in the neighbours Taehyung and his little brother Jungkook, the four of you were the trouble makers of the block. It also was known between the boys that Jungkook had always had a soft spot for you, despite you being the eldest of the four. He never tried to pursue but that didn’t mean he wasn’t insanely protective of you. In fact all three were, because you were you and they all loved you dearly. So for all three of them to feel your absence wasn’t entirely unreasonable. Lately you were honestly never around, save for classes at university.

“I really hate Keith” Jungkook mumbled as he took a large gulp of his beer.

“Yeah we all do” Jimin sighed out.

“Hey guys, isn’t that him” Taehyung asked, pointing towards the bar where a group of guys were walking to sit down.

“Yeah, wait… where is Y/N aren’t they having movie night, that’s why she couldn’t come swimming” Jungkook asked.

“That’s what she said…” Jimin replied, glaring at the back of your boyfriend while he pulled out his phone.

[9:23pm] Broski: Hey, what are you up to? We’re having a few drinks want to join.

[9:23pm] Y/N: Nahhh, I’m good, remember it’s movie night haha.

“You know, I really hate when she lies to me” Jimin sighed reading your reply. If he was going to be honest, it seemed like lately you lied a lot, he never let you know he caught you though. He wasn’t sure why you were trying to make it seem like your relationship was all great, when he could clearly see your stupid boyfriend at the bar taking shots with his friends.

“Well, unlike you, I’m not a chicken shit to call her out!” Tae said as he snapped a picture of the scene in front of him and sent it to you.

“Wow Tae, way to go easy.” Jimin said.

“No, fuck that douch bag, he doesn’t get to make our girl upset.” Taehyung said as he typed you a message.

[9:29pm] Tae bear: .jpeg

[2:29pm] Tae bear: We’re three blocks away from your place, your douch bag is here. Fuck him and come have fun with us. You deserve it.

You looked at the text messages on your phone from Taehyung. You should have known Keith would go out with his friends after yelling at you. Of course he wouldn’t be coming home and be apologizing. So you took a deep breath and decided you would not stay home this time. You were going to have fun with your brother and friends.

[9:32pm] Y/N Boo: Okay, I need a night out. Give me 20.

“Ha, see, she’s coming” Taehyung said triumphantly, waving his phone in their faces.

“Why the hell….. she is so closed off to me lately” Jimin grumbled out. He was irritated on how things were between you two.

“She’s coming, that’s all that matters, lets just give her a good night” Jungkook smiled at Jimin, he knew he was feeling the distance as well, and even though he played it off, it was really bugging him.

Twenty minutes later you arrived at the bar that your brother was at. You had made yourself look decent, deciding that tonight was about you. You pulled out your tightest jeans and a shirt that made you look and feel like a million bucks. You wanted your boyfriend to notice you, and to feel sorry for starting such a petty fight. You saw your brother right away and walked towards him, not sparing anyone else a glance.  

“Well look at you, gorgeous as always” Tae said with a low whistle. Jungkook shuffled over so you could sit beside him.

“Ha, thanks Tae.” You smiled.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, concern lacing his features.

“Yeah…I’m fine” you said grabbing Jungkooks beer and taking a gulp

“Seriously, you can talk to us… talk to me. I won’t judge you.” Jimin urged on.

“Jimin, I’m fine. Couples have arguments. We spend so much time together, it was silly. Let me just have fun with you guys tonight. I’ve missed you all so much!” You said with the biggest fake smile you could muster up. You were not going to let your brother know how bad it was, he would probably go over and punch Keith right away. Instead you flagged the waitress down and ordered two rounds of shots for your group.

“Okay boys, lets see who can last the longest!” You declared.

Several shots later, you found yourself pleasantly intoxicated and unaware of the death glare burning into the back of your skull by your boyfriend. He had noticed you a little while ago, sitting there in a booth. And man, he was furious. Yet, you were so oblivious as you throw yourself into Jungkooks shoulder, laughing hysterically over something Jimin had said, which resulted in Taehyung laughing so hard tequila came out his nostrils, so basically you guys were just a big mess of laughter. Clearly, all very drunk.

“Y/N” You looked up to see your boyfriend beside your booth, looking pretty pissed off.

“Oh hey!” You giggled.

“Let’s go home” He said through gritted teeth.

“No thanks, I think I’m going to stay a little while more” You smiled at him, completely unaware you were making him angrier by the minute.

“Baby….” He smiled leaning down to whisper into your ear, simultaneously grabbing your wrist. “I said lets go home. Pull yourself together, you’re acting like the slut you look like.” He yanked you out of the booth.

“Hey, what the fuck man” Jimin stood up, not liking how you were being treated.

“It’s okay Jimin, I think I should go home. I am pretty drunk” You laughed nervously.

“Let us all walk you home, it’s on the way to our place” Jungkook offered standing up.

The hand on your wrist squeezed you tighter.

“No, its okay guys. I have Keith to walk me home” you let out, grimacing at the pain. Sometimes Keith didn’t know his own strength, and he accidentally squeezed to hard, you thought.

“Yes, lets go” He said dragging you away from the table. Jimin was trying to keep his temper under control as he watched you go. He did not like how Keith treated you, but now he was convinced you deserved more.

“Look, I’m not saying I hate the guy, but I fucking hate that guy. Did you see how he man handled her. Why would she go with him!” Jungkook let out. He was just as angry as Jimin watching how you were treated. Taehyung stood up from the table, with a look of concern writing on his face.

“Guys, I’m not saying I’m right, but… do you think… I don’t know. It’s all there, us not seeing her as much, her change in personality, him controlling her, treating her like shit in front of us none the less, man handling her….” Taehyung looked in the direction of the door you had just exited.

“Holy shit….”Jungkook exhaled.

“He’s an abuser” Jimin sighed. Keith wasn’t just a run of the mill dick head, no, he was abusing his sister. You were in an abusive relationship. And the worst part was, you didn’t even see it.

[wilhelmjfink]

November (pt. 2)

want some closure?? Too bad

Whatever you had been dreaming about ends abruptly and your heart stops beating for a second, scaring you half to death and you jump awake, bolting upright, prepared to catch yourself after whatever fall it was that ripped you from unconsciousness. Whatever blow you were about to receive, whatever gun finally went off, whatever walker finally reached you. Nightmares hit you like a bolt of white lightning. 

Catching your breath, you place a hand over your heart almost to reassure yourself that it’s still beating; you really weren’t sure at that moment. You don’t know what has you so shaken, and you’re literally trembling in your spot on your bed, unsure of what it was this time that startled you awake. You’re diving deep inside your mind to try and remember what scenario had you petrified  it all you can seem to think of is Daryl’s clouded, yellow eyes, grey skin and —

“Woah, woah, easy, kid,” a voice to your side catches you by surprise and you’re even more confused when you see Rick — and you’re positive that he shouldn’t be there with you. Something happened, and he’s not supposed to be here. Or maybe it’s you that shouldn’t be there with him. You had an odd, striking notion that you should be dead. “S’just me. You’re safe now, Y/N.”

Your mind is whirling. You can’t even think of where to start. “What... Why...”

“Lay down,” he gently prods you backwards on the bed and you let him do so, whilemalso subconsciously beginning to convince yourself you’re in another dream until he starts to talk again and you realized it kind of makes sense. “You’ve been pretty sick lately, you need to relax.”

You want to believe that explains everything, but you’re having a extremely difficult time piecing it all together. What’s the last thing you remember happening? The last real thing that actually happened? Being sick would make sense,  but... you don’t know — it was more than that. You’re lost  

You’re scared 

You can’t seem to get out of the fog. It’s so hazy. And you have a vague memory of Daryl turning into a walker and eating you alive and tears spring to your eyes at just the very thought.

Turning to look at Rick, you don’t know what to do but shake your head dumbly. What is he doing here? Where do you even begin? You let his best friend get killed? And you were still alive?! You were still fucking alive!

 It wasn’t fucking fair 

Nut, no, it couldn’t be.... it had to be a dream. 

Rick is staring back at you with big, curious eyes and you know that he thinks you’re crazy. They think you’re a monster. Just as you knew they all would. And they’re right. 

Blinking the tears run down your cheeks., bringing you back like a cold splash of water to the face. What do you say? “Rick, I... I tried so hard...” 

You can see the image of Daryl getting trapped underneath the walkers as you threw yourself at them in a desperate attempt to save him. Its so vivid inside your head, so bright and so real. You just wanted to save him. That’s all. Then, you don’t remember anything. 

“So hard to what, Y/N?” Rick cocks his head curiously at you. It’s like he’s taunting you. He has to know already. You’d do anything to avoid his glare right now, his honest eyes fixated on you intently, waiting for you to crack under the pressure. You can almost hear him laughing at you. 

No... he isn’t laughing. You’re just losing your mind. You must’ve been bitten, too.

Oh, no.... you’ve been bitten, too. 

You fling the sheets off of your legs to search for bites or scratches and Rick gently places a hand over yours. “Y/N, what are....” but you swat it back because you don’t want him to touch you and get sick and you don’t trust yourself to just try and eat his hand off right there. 

Your time is very limited; you can feel it.

“Don’t touch me!” Please. “Don’t... I’ll hurt you, Rick.” Cautiously, confused, concerned, he slowly reaches back toward you. You try to scoot off the bed. It’s swallowing you. 

“Y/N — “

He’s still coming for you. “Please don’t let me turn, Rick.” You’re begging him, simultaneously trying to free yourself from the mass of blankets tangled around your ankles. You know that they’re probably just waiting for it to happen just so that they can kill you. That’s how much they hate you — they want you to turn into a walker so they can kill you that way. Vengeful and angry. You don’t blame them, actually. But... “Please, Rick, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry...”

God, how did you manage to fuck everything up? All you were trying to do is find Daryl and make sure he was okay. How did it all go wrong? How did you manage to ruin everything? 

“I never meant for this to happen, Rick. I just wanted to find him, I was just worried — I loved him, you know I did!”

You’re bawling now, pleading and begging and rapidly trying to convince Rick that you’re telling the truth — that you loved Daryl and you never meant for any of this to happen — because otherwise you’re going to turn into a walker. You can feel it. You should’ve just stayed home that day he didn’t come home. He still would’ve managed to get back to you safely. He’d still be alive. You killed him. It was your fault.

“Y/N! Y/N, hey, listen to me —” Rick’s becoming slightly frantic and you figure you must be beginning to turn already. You can feel yourself beginning to fade.

“No, no, no! Please, Rick, please don’t let me turn. Just kill me now!” You grab onto his wrist, distraught and afraid, desperate for him to believe you. So afraid. So tired, so fever-stricken and so sick. “I don’t want to be one of them, please...”

He’s yelling over you now but you yell louder. Tune him out. Please just listen. You’re not lying. You loved him so fucking much. Absolutely hysterical now. You beg for him to let you die with dignity. Even though you know you don’t deserve it. You didn’t mean for it to happen this way.

Why won’t he do it? Why won’t he just get it over with? Why won’t they just let you die? Is he scared? You don’t want to hurt Rick, too — oh, god, please, you don’t want to hurt Rick. You don’t want to hurt anybody. You don’t want to hurt anybody — you don’t want to hurt anymore.

Scrambling out of the bed you head for the door and fumble with the knob that seems to be broken or jammed or something and you glance behind you fearfully, hoping maybe Rick had left already. But he’s still there. Daryl is standing behind him, glaring at you. Bloody and dead. And you get it. You hate yourself, too. 

But why does he have to torment you? Doesn’t he get that you’re going to die a monster anyway? Haven’t you suffered enough? “Go away!” You scream at him, your back hitting the door. No, of course you haven’t suffered enough! You deserve to live the rest of your life knowing that you killed your best friend. You need to live with that. 

You can hear his snarls as he advances on you, his feet shuffling, teeth gnashing. 

You cover your ears but it does little to alleviate the noises. In fact, you think they may have gotten even louder. 

He grabs your arms and you scream and flail and you can’t break free so you eventually just close your eyes and wait for the pain to come. Just get it over with. Just fucking do it. Just do it. Just do it. Just do it. Just....

“Y/N! Look at me!”

He’s making you watch him kill you. More you deserve. 

But you’re far too afraid to open your eyes and face him, afraid of what he’ll look like because you don’t want to see gray, cold, sagging skin and yellow clouded eyes. His warmth is gone — you know the ocean blue eyes that have comforted you every single time you were scared are gone. You need them now more than ever, trembling in fear, the corner you’ve sunk in to offering little protection from what is, quite literally, your biggest fear come to life. 

You’re afraid of Daryl. 

But it’s not Daryl... Daryl is dead. You killed him. This is a nightmare you’re fighting with. Your demons.  

Don’t look at him. Just don’t look at him.  

But there are voices all around you, calling your name and whispering at you: ‘open your eyes’ and ‘do something’ and ‘look at me’ and ‘please help her’.

ZSomething has grasped onto your wrists and legs and body and is pinning you down, no matter how loud you cry and shout or how hard you thrash around.

You have to scream louder than the voices. Louder. Louder. And louder. And louder.  

And then suddenly, there’s nothing.

One more part!

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever@sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @cococruzz @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @deliciousassafrasssandwich@bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals.....Chapter Twelve

“Hi Mr. Chris!” The girls said simultaneously as he walked into the hospital room. He smiled as he went over to hug them, “ready to go home?”

“Definitely,” Erica replied as Erin nodded her head in agreement. Chris looked over to Robyn, who was standing in the outside the doors with a doctor before sitting on the edge of Erica’s bed, “I’m sure your mommy is ready for you to be home.”

“She was saying that earlier. Are you gonna stay with us too?”

“What you mean?”

“Are you going home with us?”

“I mean I’m gonna ride home with you and probably hang out for a little bit but that’s all.”

“Oh ok.”

“I’ll still visit and everything. Gotta make sure my girls are getting better.”

Erica smiled and Chris gently tickled her belly, making her laugh. Erin sat up taller and turned to face Chris and Erica, “Mr. Chris?”

“Yes Erin?”

“Where’s your wife?”

Chris ran his hand over his head, “we’re kind of taking a break. She went back home to be with her parents.”

“Oh, that’s sad. You miss her?”

“I do but I try not to think about it.”

“I do that about my dad sometimes.”

“You do? You really loved him, didn’t you?”

“Yea. Do you think he’d be upset if we got another daddy?””

Chris paused as he tried to find a more appropriate way to answer her question. It was clear they didn’t know that they did have another dad because they were still calling him Mr. Chris. He and Robyn had just got on somewhat cordial terms and he didn’t want to ruin that just yet.

“Well Erin Boo, I think your dad would want you to be happy and to have somebody watching over you down here while he’s watching over you from above. I don’t think he’d be upset besides it’s not really getting another father in the sense of replacing him but more so in the sense of getting another father in addition to the one you already have. Just because he isn’t physically here doesn’t mean he isn’t still existing around you.”

“Do you think my mom would ever get married again?”

“Now that’s a question that only your mommy can answer.”

“Oh. when your break is over, are you and your wife gonna have kids?”

“You know what Sweetheart, that’s something else I really don’t know the answer to.”

“It sucks not knowing things.”

“Tell me about it.”

Erin and Erica laughed as Chris made a face.

Robyn stood in the doorway watching Chris interact with their daughters. As much as she wanted to believe this whole father reveal wouldn’t end well, she couldn’t deny that they were just as enamored with Chris as he was with them. They would grow to love him, she could tell. It took everything in her not to cry when Erin started talking about Michael. She knew her girls were a little cautious about bringing him up around her. It didn’t bother her much, it just reminded her of the secret she was hiding and guilt made her want to push the memories away. Michael was an amazing father but he wasn’t really their father and no matter how much she tried to convince herself that she had nothing to feel guilty about since he knew the truth, she always felt conflicted.

The nurse brought her two packets of aftercare instructions and release papers. She signed the release paperwork quickly then made her way into the room. Chris smiled over at her as she sat down on Erin’s bed, “everything ok?”

“Everything is good. We’re just waiting on some available wheelchairs,” Robyn replied as she held Erin’s hand.

“Cool. You ok?”

“I’m good. You wanna tell them now or?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Erica asked.

“Well...I don’t want you guys to be upset but there is something me and Mr. Chris have to tell you.”

“Yes Mommy?”

“Well Mommy made a mistake a long time ago and kept a secret from you guys.”

“What’s that, Mommy?”

Robyn looked over to Chris and his eyes softened at the fear in her face. She was really scared that they were gonna hate her for this. Chris held out his hand and Robyn grabbed it. He squeezed it tightly to give her reassurance, “you can say it, Bajan Girl, it’s ok.”

“Well Erin, Erica, Mr. Chris is your birth father.”

A huge cloud of confusion blanketed the girls’ expression. It’s almost as if they could see the girls trying to make sense of the situation.

“But how Mommy?” Erica asked.

“When I met your father, Michael, I was already pregnant with you guys. Mr. Chris and I weren’t friends anymore and he moved away. I met Michael a few months later and we started dating.”

“Did Daddy know?”

“Yes, he knew. We just wanted to protect you guys from anyone making fun of you or anything like that, that’s why we didn’t say anything.”

“Did you know, Mr. Chris?” Erin asked.

“Unfortunately not until recently. Since I had moved away before your mommy knew she was having you guys, I didn't have the chance to find out. Believe me, if I had known, I would’ve been there for you just like I am now.”

“It’s definitely not Mr. Chris’s fault because he didn’t know and I just didn’t want you guys to be hurt. I know I tell you all the time that it’s not good to keep secrets and it isn’t, regardless of the circumstances. I really hope you won’t be upset with me for not telling you.”

Erin and Erica looked at each other before turning to their parents, “So can we call Mr. Chris, Daddy?”

“You can call me whatever feels comfortable for you.”

                                         ~~~~~~~~

“That went rather well, don’t you think?”

Robyn turned around at the sound of a voice behind her. Chris moved to stand next to her on the porch, closing the sliding door behind him. He leaned against the railing and sighed, “you ok?”

“I’m good. Didn’t know how heavy that weighed on me.”

“I guess you never gave it much thought.”

“Psssh...definitely more thought than I would’ve liked. Just glad they don’t hate me.”

“They’re young. I don’t even really think they understand what’s really going on. They just think they have another dad, that’s all.”

“True.”

“Can you imagine if you had actually waited as long as you planned?”

“I don’t even wanna think about how much of a train wreck that would’ve been.”

Chris chuckled.

They fell silent for a moment when Robyn felt Chris touch her hand. She turned to look at him and he smiled, “thanks for letting me be there.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. It was the right thing to do.”

“Yea but regardless.”

“Chris, I don’t want you to be scared of me, ok? I’m not gonna block your access to them just because you get on my nerves. That’s just not right”

“I get on your nerves?”

“You really wanna start that conversation?”

“Nah, we’re having a fairly good day.”

Robyn laughed and leaned into Chris’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her to him.

Robyn sighed, “you know I never did thank you for the night the accident happened.”

“What you mean?”

“Me being hysterical and you being there to calm me down. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to even let me help you. I was bracing myself for you to pull away from me.”

“I was too emotional to even think about it. I was glad you were there though especially since I’m so used to doing this by myself. I really missed my husband at that moment.”

“He sounds like an awesome guy.”

“Yea. I think you would’ve like him if you ever met him.”

“He made you happy so of course.”

“So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can’t avoid Tiana forever. You’re gonna have to deal with your marriage at some point.”

“Honestly, I don’t even know how to approach it. I’ve been getting sent to voicemail for almost a month now.”

“You ever leave a message?”

“First few times, yea but then I started to feel like a stalker.”

Robyn chuckled, “you scared?”

“Not for the reason you would think. I just hate not knowing. I mean if we’re done then let me know that but I can’t stand being in limbo.”

“Do you wanna be done?”

“Of course not but if she can’t accept my daughters and has no plans on forgiving me, I don’t see the point of dragging this out. I just wanna be miserable in peace, you know?”

Robyn shook her head, “miserable in peace? I can’t with you.”

“I’m serious though.”

“Never thought this would be you.”

“I never thought I’d be married in the first place to be honest but I am and now I don’t even know for sure what my future is gonna be.”

“I’m sorry, VA.”

“I’m not your fault. Tiana did make a good point when she was throwing shit at me.”

“What’s that?”

“If I really cared about her, I should’ve told her a long time ago.”

“I mean that makes sense, considering the fact neither of us were friends anymore. 8 years is a long time to keep that a secret.”

“Honestly, I didn’t know how to tell her.”

“The same way you told her this time. She probably would’ve been more inclined to forgive you if you hadn’t kept it a secret for so long.”

“It wasn’t just my secret.”

“No, but you had the most to lose.”

“Considering what had happened, figured I had lost enough.”

“What you mean?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What you mean by that?”

As Chris went to speak, his phone rang. He grabbed it without looking at the screen and slid over the answer key, “hello?”

“Chris, where are you?”

“I’m still with Robyn, Mama. You need me?”

“Tiana’s here.”

“What?”

“Your wife is here. She’s sitting in my living room right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Chris hung up without saying goodbye then turned to Robyn, “I’ll be back a little later. I gotta go to my mother’s.”

“Something wrong?”

“Tiana’s here.”

Robyn’s mouth dropped open and Chris nodded, “Wow. Speak of the Devil huh?”

“Tell me about it. If I call you later don’t be surprised if I’m crying or some shit.”

Robyn laughed, “you’ll be ok, VA. At least you’ll know what’s up.”

“Very true. Thanks for today.”

“Stop thanking me, honestly. You’re their dad, you should be here.”

Chris leaned over to hug her and rocked her gently, “If I don’t come back, I’ll definitely call. Call me if you need anything, I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

“I will. Relax and just let it be what it is, ok?”

“Will do.”

Chris pecked her cheek then left to his car. Robyn leaned onto her elbows on the porch railing, watching as he pulled off.

[spookyscullies]

reaching for belief

set at the end of Paper Hearts. a little bit of angst, but not too much considering the smut that follows :’)

Scully is concerned for Mulder, so she drives him home and joins him in his apartment.

rating: NC-17

“Come on, it’s been a long day. You need to go home and sleep. I’ll drive you.” Scully offered, her eyes filled to the brim with concern for the man she’d come to know so well. 

He looked up at her with that infectious grin she had seen so many times before, the warmth of his expression eliciting a quiet chuckle of her own, albeit a sad one. She wasn’t quite sure why he was laughing, maybe just out of shock over the cataclysm of events that had occurred over the past few days, or maybe it was just that he found her proposition hysterical for some reason. 

She cradled his head against her torso, his arm wrapping around her hip to pull her in close. Worry lines etched her face as she slid her fingers through his hair, feeling his body shaking slightly in her grasp as he continued to laugh. After a few more moments, his amusement began to cease. 

“Come on, Mulder.” Scully pulled back, guiding him by the hand out of the basement office.

They walked in silence down the halls of the J. Edgar Hoover building, empty of its employees. It was dark out, the cool night breeze shifting through the parking garage as they hunted for Scully’s car. They rode to Mulder’s apartment without a word. It wasn’t too uncommon for them to ride in a serene quietness, but the quiet that surrounded them was one of concern to Scully. She had been right about the whole situation, but she felt somewhat guilty about it. She hadn’t wanted to be right; she hoped that Mulder would receive closure about what truly happened to his sister. 

At the same time, she hadn’t wanted him to be right either. Because then it would dredge up the horror that he had punished himself for for too many years now. It was always with him, she knew that, but the fact that this offense against his sister could have possibly been committed by another human could potentially devastate Mulder. Aliens seemed to be a convenient place to lie the blame for such a horrendous act of violence toward a child; it was far easier to envision an unknown being or entity stepping in to spark these events than it was to believe that there was someone out there with intentions so evil as to harm a child. And Mulder, who had only been a child himself, found solace in believing that it was not strictly humanity that perpetuated evil, but another life form that could be even more so malevolent. 

She was fairly certain that Roche wasn’t Samantha’s abductor herself, but she knew there was a higher chance of the perpetrator being him than an extraterrestrial. But right now, having all the facts in check wasn’t at the forefront of her mind, nor did it have any priority at the moment. Right now, she was more than worried about her partner.

She pulled up to Mulder’s apartment complex and parked. They sat, Mulder staring out the window, Scully’s line of focus trained on him. She sighed softly then unfastened her seatbelt and opened the car door. Mulder followed in suit as she lead the way up to his apartment. They exited the elevator and tread across the wooden floorboards to his door, Scully fishing out her keys and unlocking the door. She pushed it open and allowed Mulder to enter first, closing the door behind her.

He headed straight for his bedroom wordlessly. He hadn’t asked her to accompany him, but she did anyway. She had some trepidation about her presence as she entered her bedroom, but he did nothing to stop her as she sat down next to him on his bed. To her, he looked tired. He hadn’t shaven in a day or two, dark stubble growing in along his jaw, chin, and above his lips. His eyes were downcast, averted from her, his hands folded in his lap, crouched over. She placed a hand on his upper arm, squeezing gently. 

“You gonna be okay here, Mulder? Do you want me to go?” She inquired softly, trying to catch his eyes. He finally looked up, something along the lines of need swirling in the darkness of his hazel eyes.

“No, don’t go.” He replied simply. He left her touch, moving toward the dresser. 

“Okay,” Her response was almost inaudible. 

He shed his button down and began unbuckling his pants, and Scully respectfully looked away. When he was finished, he remained only in his boxers. His next request was one that came as a surprise to her. It was demure and timid in nature, like he was almost afraid to ask.

“Can I... would you let me hold you? Just for a few minutes, I just... just need to feel safe.”

She felt herself nod, but her mind wandered off. It was a surprise, yes, but not an unwelcome one. She felt elated to know that her being there made him feel safe. She had known how heavily he relied on her, how heavily they relied on each other, but she had always thought of him as her safe place, her strong hold. She hadn’t been aware that she was as much his as he was hers. She was content knowing that she at least provided a safe haven for him. She was conscious of how she projected herself: a force to be reckoned with, someone who stood no bullshit, especially if it pertained to most of the FBI’s viewpoint on Mulder. She shrouded professional colleagues, employees, and sometimes her family in a blanket of distant resolution. If she could keep them at arm’s length, than she herself could endure in her strength; she wouldn’t have a choice to breakdown, to confess that it might all be too much. 

Mulder was the one person she had granted access, and while it might still be guarded access, it was closer than she had permitted any one person before. She was starting to consider that maybe this was the case for Mulder as well. That she was someone that he had decided to give himself to, like she had given to him. She was okay with that.

Scully unbuttoned her blazer and set it on the end of the bed, took off her shoes, then crawled up to lay her head on a pillow. Mulder lay down beside her, facing her, inches away from her. Their eyes connected, holding their gaze. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her, the warmth spreading to engulf her as he pulled her against him, their chests meeting, his arms closed around her. 

She was safe here. She hoped he felt safe in her arms the way she did in his. She tucked her head below his jaw, at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. She placed a kiss on the skin there, his hand coming to rest at the nape of her neck. She moved back to look at him again, to make sure he was still alright. His leg intertwined itself between hers, drawing them closer still. His nose pressed against her cheek, his lips hovering centimeters from hers, finally connecting them after what could have been a thousand years to her. It was tender and meek at first, shy, neither of them daring to unleash the desperation they both harbored for the other. And then it wasn’t.

Scully’s lips roved over Mulder’s pulling kisses from him, Mulder ripping them from her. Their tongues sought out each other, pushing and exploring, barely breathing with the vehemence of their seeking. Scully’s palm scratched against the stubble of Mulder’s face, his hands still gripping at the back of her neck. At last they broke apart to breathe, but the time they allotted for this hardly compensated. Scully lost her breath again as Mulder began to trail down her jawline and neck with kisses. She gasped shallowly at the sensation of Mulder’s teeth pinching the skin where her clavicle joined her neck. 

She drew back, easing the look of hurt that flashed across Mulder’s face as her fingers curled under the hem of her shirt. She peeled it off her body and let it fall off the bed. She was uncomfortable in her grey slacks; she could feel the evidence of her arousal through her underwear. She quickly slid them off along with her underwear and glanced up to see that she was not the only one aroused. His erection stood proudly upright in his boxers. Scully pulled them off his figure like she had her own, fully taking in the sight of his hardened dick before her. She situated one knee on either side of his abdomen and ground slowly against his stiffened cock.

He let a deep growl escape at the stimulation and she reached behind her to unclasp her bra. It fell away, revealing the swells of her soft, full breasts, nipples peaked. His hands immediately went up to cup them. She mewled as his thumbs circled the sensitive nerves. She continued to gyrate against him, her wetness covering his long member, resulting in an agonizingly incredible feeling. At last it seemed as if she’d had enough of teasing and leaned in to capture his lips with fervor before she resumed her position. She hovered over his waiting cock, guiding it with her fingers as she sunk down onto him, inch by inch. He slipped inside her heat, the feeling almost completely overwhelming. When he was fully buried in her, they both released a simultaneous groan. The full length of him inside her was utterly satisfying; she was thoroughly and thickly filled.

She began to sluggishly lift herself up and down, still getting used to the wonderful feeling of his cock in her. She increased in speed bit by bit, entering into a steady rhythm. She bit her lip in an effort to hold back a moan which was ineffective as the sound burst from within her, loud and strong. The immense pressure was suddenly coupled with the massaging of her clit. Two of Mulder’s fingers held her clit between them, mimicking the motions of the rise and fall of her body against him. He sat up, changing the angle of his cock within her, pushing deeper, against her cervix. She let her head fall back, her mouth agape with a silent cry of pleasure, until he, with his free hand, pulled her back down to meet his lips in a searing kiss. She reciprocated hungrily, her heart rate quickening at the sound of their bodies meshing together and the smell of sex that filled her nose. 

An endless supply of moans flowed from her lips, only to be absorbed into Mulder’s own while he rubbed furiously at her clit. Scully could feel her wetness seep out even with the obstruction of Mulder inside her when he clutched at her breast with his mouth, nipping and sucking. Mulder was rising to meet her thrusts now, his cock harder than ever, pumping into her accompanied by the sounds of her slick sex. Her breasts bounced at the force of them colliding against each other, her whimpers echoing in the room freely. 

Her inner muscles clenched and unclenched, the beginnings of her orgasm washing over her. The rapid spasms of contraction against his cock strengthened, causing him to twitch and throb. Her climax settled upon her, heavy and powerful, Mulder’s name passing her lips several times in succession, her final few drives against him pushing him over the edge, spurting into her potently. He whispered her name, letting it fall out like a mantra. She rocked against him slower, less hurried, bringing them down from the precipice. When the after effects had worn away and he began to soften inside her, she rolled off, collapsing on her back.

He turned to face her, making eye contact as they both panted. He smiled a small smile, and she let her lips quirk up on of her own, the light reaching her eyes. He tugged her diminutive frame into his embrace once again, their skin flush against each other. 

He wondered if she knew how much she meant to him, how much comfort she provided for him. Not just now, but every single day, every single day that he saw her face, witnessed her enduring courage in the face of adversity, every single damn time she refuted his claims. He wondered if she knew how safe she made him feel, if she felt the same security in him as he did in her. 

This thought lay unspoken between them, though in their hearts they both believed the same thing: they were safe with each other. 

[confinesofpersonalknowledge]

coming home

Lance comes home in the dark of the night, when the lights of his home world are gone and a storm rages in the skies above. He lands Blue in front of his house and stumbles out of his lion, vaguely registering Keith and Red landing with a whoomph next to him. Rain pours down on him, soaking his armour quickly, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him. They’ve been on thousands of planets, felt hundreds of different rains, but nothing could compare to the rains of Earth.

Keith appears to his side, and Lance can’t help but silently laugh at the incredulous look on his face. Keith may have lived in the desert, but nothing can compare to the downpours of Florida when hurricane season is just gearing up. Closing his eyes, Lance does a ridiculous dance in excitement, because he is home, for the first time in what he estimates must have been five years.

When he opens his eyes, Keith is grinning at him and pointing at the house in front of him. The lights of the house have turned on, and when Lance raises his eyes to the second floor, he sees a pair of blue eyes peeking at him before the curtain closes to a flurry of hidden movement. He takes off at a run, but before he can even touch the locks of the gate, the front door is thrown open, and Lance sees his mother.

It has been years since Lance has seen his mother, but he has never forgotten how beautiful his mother is. Behind her stands his father, and Lance cannot stop fumbling with the lock on the gate, he cannot get his hands to stop shaking so much that he cannot open the lock. But then a warm hand covers his own, and the flash of red and white armour covered fingers are opening the lock, and Lance is running to his parents, who are waiting for him, and he’s crying and his parents’ are crying and then Mariposa’s voice floats down from the stairs and there’s the sudden realization that Lance is home.

Lance has to make Keith explain, go over the fun adventures and skipping the ones that left them scarred for the worse. There’s an angry scar that runs from Lance’s left temple to the corner of his mouth, that twists his face every time he shifts. Keith is missing himself a leg, lost in a reckless move to save Shiro and Pidge years ago. But those things don’t matter to them anymore, not when the mission they set out with years ago was finally accomplished.

They can’t stay for long, because while Lotor, Zarkon and Haggar might be gone, the Galra empire is too big, too far-spread for it to fall without a good leader. The Voltron Alliance needs them, the Paladins of Voltron, as much as it has always needed them.

The only difference now is that it is safe for them to go home. That Earth will no longer be the unwilling target of purple homicidal leaders hellbent on revenge. That Lance’s family won’t be the victims of a war that their son helped start. That Lance won’t startle awake with nightmares of a weapon capable of breaking, shattering planets with nothing left to salvage of them. That they will never lose Earth.

They get a dog before they leave.

It’s not something either of them had set out to do when they returned to Earth. A pet was the furthest thing from their minds, but she was there, one day, alone in the rain. Keith had watched, from the side, as Lance had run over to the small puppy, covering her in the jacket and simply marching her up to Keith and demanding silently they keep her.

With the happy spark in Lance’s eyes, Keith couldn’t find it in himself to deny Lance. They name her Violetta (because Lance has Blue and Keith has Red, but the two of them together make purple and because Keith is undeniably a huge, giant sap).

Blue and Red are simultaneously amused and affronted. Blue especially likes to claim that if she and Red hadn’t done what they had done, Lance and Keith would still pine away at each other and drive the rest of the Castle’s inhabitants up the walls.

Lance is different, when he returns. There’s a sharpness to him, an anger and a sadness in him that is unfathomable to his family. He still laughs (silently, because Lance lost his voice in the years he has been away) with his family, still cooks with his sisters and still does facemasks at night with his siblings. But he’s different.

When Mariposa accidentally drops a glass dish, the shattering sound has Lance moving, a knife pulled easily into his hand. When Leandro, Lance and their uncles go shooting, Lance is easily the best of them all, a sniper rifle nestled easily onto his shoulders, or two handguns easily gripped by long, calloused fingers that he uses to draw a flower made of bullet holes. War rests in his eyes, his shoulders, his back, in the scars of wounds that never faded. There’s an unsettling ease in the way the weight of a rifle sits on his shoulders, an unfound grace in his movements that his professional-ballerina of a sister cannot match.

Where Lance goes, Keith follows. Keith himself is a quiet man, who has a scowl attached to his face and at least two knives on his person at all times. For the longest time, Leandro thinks that Keith chooses not to speak, that Keith is the reason that Lance lost his voice and gained the glint in his eyes, but Lance pulls him to the side one day and explains, slowly, painfully, writing everything he wants to say out because there was no one who knew the sign language Lance used. Explains that Keith lost his leg and gained a lifetime of nightmares on a mission to save Lance, that Keith loved, loves, Lance more than anything Keith has loved in his life. Leandro doesn’t mutter about Keith anymore after that.

Keith and Lance are in love. It is a fact, as plain and simple as saying “the Galra are all evil.” That is, it really isn’t that simple because things like that can never really be simple. Keith and Lance love each other, and they do not know they love each other.

It’s in the little things, the small moments they share.

The surge of jealousy Keith always feels when Lance flirts. The feeling Lance claims is admiration when he watches Keith train. The trust the two of them have to always have each other’s backs in a fight, even if they’re on opposite sides of the room. To an outsider, looking in, it is easy to see the love the red and blue paladins have for each other.

But for Keith and Lance, it is not so simple. Because Keith, hilariously awkward, does not know how to articulate his feelings and Lance, quietly insecure, does not want to overstep his boundaries. So they dance around each other, both denying themselves; neither moving forward.

It comes out on a mission of all things. Because Lotor is not his father, not obsessed with the Black Lion, and far more cunning. His generals are handpicked for their intelligence and their prowess in battle and out of the field, not just agents of brute strength that are easy to fight.

One of them, the almost-chameleon-like one, captures Lance. And Keith? Keith cannot stop remembering how it happened, cannot stop thinking of the last words Lance whispered to him over the comms, the goodbye that left Keith reeling in his spot, cannot stop thinking of the scream that echoed in the halls of the warship.

Lance lost his voice that day.

Keith lost his leg.

They wouldn’t get Keith’s leg back and Lance laughs hysterically (but so, so quietly, without the happiness, the waves, the music in his voice) when he found out he lost his voice, but they would move on. But they would never be the same again.

Let’s talk about a Lance, who stumbles out a cryopod with a happy smile on his face and a greeting on his lips. Let’s talk about a Lance who doesn’t remember, quite then, the scar that cuts across his throat and what he had stolen from him. Let’s talk about the smile that slips off of his face, the way he keeps trying, keeps trying to get a word, something, anything out.

Let’s talk about a Keith, who falls out of his cryopod into the waiting hands of a crying Lance, who can’t walk on his own anymore but always has Lance. Let’s talk about a Keith, who has always been fast on his feet, who has always been the fastest of them all, falling behind in races because the prosthetic where his leg should be aches.

Let’s talk about a Lance and a Keith who have lost something, everything, and nothing at all.

This is incomplete but I’m curious as to whether anyone would be willing to read more of it? Please let me know what you think and whether or not I should even continue? Thank

EDIT: Part Two was written! Link is here:

[Two]

[icecoldparadise]

Vampirism and Immortality

My first attempt at angst/horror.  trigger warnings: casual, nongraphic mentions of self harm and attempted suicide. Please read at your own risk!!! I’m not offended if you skip based on these please take care of yourselves I love you. Thanks to Thelo for giving me the idea <3

When the Dragon Witch said she cursed two of the sides, nothing could have prepared them for this...

The sun was barely rising on the horizon, a thick fog still blanketing the earth in heavy slumber. Virgil stared out the window, wondering how things spiraled out of control so fast…

 It began one spring, a long time ago. The sides were all hanging out in the mind palace when an uncharacteristically cold wind blew from Roman’s room and chilled them to the bone. Roman jumped up, drawing his sword- but it was too late.  A deep green mist had swept all of them up and taken them away in a flash. When they woke they had found themselves in a dark cell with the Dragon Witch looming over them, a sinister smile stretched across her scaly face. “How nice of you to finally wake up,” she hissed, sending chills up their spines. “Wh-what do you want, foul beast?!” Roman shouted in an attempt to be brave, rushing forward only to find himself shackled to a wall. A deep, rumbling laugh bellowed from the witch. “I already got what I wanted. I have planted the seeds to entropy within two of you...” She leaned in close to the prince, sneering. “Good luck figuring out who! In fact, good luck getting out of here.” The Dragon Witch cackled before turning on her heel and leaving them, slamming the iron bar door shut with an emphatic BAM! The four looked at each other bewildered. “Logan? What are our options, kiddo?” Patton tried to appear calm, but the others could see the well-hidden fear behind his spectacles. Logan analyzed their surroundings, his mind racing with possible solutions almost as quickly as he could shoot them down. Then it dawned on him. “Roman! This is your realm, yes?” The prince nodded. “Make a key to our shackles and to the bars.” The fanciful side perked up. “OF COURSE! Really, I can be SUCH a fool sometimes.” A key materialized in his hand; after some painful maneuvering he managed to unlock his shackles before running to free the others. Everyone rubbed their wrists as he worked on getting them out of the cell. Once it was unlocked they hurried out of the Witch’s lair, not knowing she was watching them with a wicked smile. “Yesss, my precious foes, run.” She chuckled. “Run to your certain demise.”

A few weeks passed by with no apparent results, so the men began to relax, thinking the whole thing may have been a hoax to scare them. They could not be more wrong.

It was small at first. Patton developed quite the appetite, to the point where he was constantly gorging himself but still complaining about being hungry. Despite this, he managed to lose weight. It reached the point where Logan, alarmed by his friend’s condition, locked himself in his room to research possible causes of this unknown affliction. It had been a few days since he had started his obsessive research and it was Patton’s turn to check in on him and make sure he had plenty of food. He came in with a plate full of Logan’s favorite foods, he himself munching on a cookie. “Lo, it’s time for a food break.” Logan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, his usually well-kept hair a mess. “Thank you, Patton.” The logical side acknowledged, taking the plate and starting to chew on a sandwich half while returning to his research. Patton peered over his head, disappointed the cookie was already gone and still feeling completely unsatisfied. “Have you found anything?” Logan half sighed, half growled. “No. It’s baffling, there’s absolutely nothing out there that aligns with your condition. I tried looking up…” His voice drowned out as Patton noticed Logan’s neck, glowing light blue from the light of the screen. For some reason, one he couldn’t begin to grasp, Patton wanted to bite it. Not just a little, oh no. He was fixated on the smooth segment of skin like a dog eyeing a fresh slab of steak. Logan’s Adam’s apple moved ever so slightly as he prattled on, only making Patton want to bite him even more. His eyes glazed over as he stood up straight, alerting Logan to his unusual state of being. “Patton?” He inquired, turning to face the fatherly side and quickly found himself screaming as Patton lunged and bit into his neck, fangs piercing his jugular and draining the logic side of every ounce of blood he possibly could. When he had finished Logan collapsed lifeless to the floor, and Patton snapped back to reality. He stared at Logan in horrified confusion, incapable of processing the sight in front of him. “What’s going on? We heard scream---” Virgil froze when he saw the scene in front of him: Logan’s dead, pale body lying on the floor with bite marks on his neck, Patton looming over him with blood dripping from his mouth and a mottled mask of terrified confusion plastered on his face. “P-p-patt-on, what did…” Roman burst in, nearly knocking Roman down. “Did you prank Logan with sharks again?” He too froze at the sight. Understanding finally crossed the distraught father’s face. “Guys? I’m… I’m not hungry anymore.” He whispered, despair lowering the usually peppy voice. He slowly licked the blood off his lips, involuntarily shuddering in pleasure at the taste of Logan’s blood. Roman paled, understanding what he was getting at. “You’re… You’re a vampire.” Patton nodded, eyes widening as his stomach growled suddenly. Virgil clicked it all together. “You’re not just a vampire, Patton. You’re a starving vampire.” Patton grimaced, as if in extreme pain. “Guys…” They stared at him in anticipation. When he opened his eyes again they were glazing over and his teeth were turning into fangs again. “Run.” He whispered before his eyes completely glazed over.

They ran.

--

It had been two weeks since Logan had died. Virgil and Roman hid in the anxious side’s room, allowing Patton to go to the creative side’s room to find animals to devour in hopes that he wouldn’t devour them next. Meanwhile Patton desperately tried to find a cure in between meals, but as research was never his forte he couldn’t find anything. Desperate to save his friends from what he had become, his hopes turned to the one thing he knew a bit about: killing vampires. He tried everything, every possible way to kill his vampiric self, but the Dragon Witch’s curse had already accounted for this and made him constantly regenerate. This regeneration made him unbelievably hungry, so he finally had to accept that he would forever be a monster. He vowed to stay in the magical forest and feed on animals for the rest of eternity, even though their blood wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Logan’s had been. He got full off animal blood, but a dark twisted part of him craved more human blood. The father figure curled up into a ball and cried himself to sleep every night, missing his friends and hating himself for killing one of them- and guilty for still wanting more.

The two remaining sides slowly ventured out into the mindscape for food, realizing that Patton had not returned from the magic forest. They ate whatever food wasn’t spoiled, starving themselves from having to hide for their lives. As they were eating Roman got an idea. “Virge, what if we try and destroy the Dragon Witch? We might be able to reverse Patton’s curse so he can come home…” The anxious side sat in silence, his slowed chewing the only sign he had registered what the other side suggested. “A lot could go wrong with that, Ro. He could find us when he’s hungry, or she could do something even worse to one of us.” Roman’s head dropped. “I know,” he said quietly, “but it’s all we’ve got. We don’t…” His voice caught, and Virgil’s eyes smarted as he understood. ‘We don’t have Logan to research anything else. I know neither of us are good at it either. It would only waste more time.” Silence blanketed the room. Finally, a soft timid voice said, “Okay.”

They stood at the door leading to Roman’s magical land, the forest stretching in front of him. “You ready? We’re gonna have to run through without stopping.” Roman looked at his dark friend anxiously. Virgil nodded. “Let’s get this over with and get our friend back.” The two sides took off running, fear evident in every footfall. Branches whipped and scratched their faces, roots tripped them, but still they ran and ran and ran. Unfortunately, one scratch began to bleed.

Patton smelled it.

The end of the forest was in sight when Virgil heard Roman scream from behind him. He stumbled to a halt and turned around just in time to see Patton latch on to the creative side’s neck and began feasting, blood draining out of the prince at an ungodly rate. He froze in terror, mentally screaming at himself to JUST MOVE FOR FUCK’S SAKE ROMAN’S DYING but he just couldn’t. When he finally was able to move it was too late. Roman lay lifeless, Patton licking any remnant blood as if it were precious. His shoulders visibly slumped when he realized what had happened, and a cry escaped his lips that would break even the coldest heart. “NOOOO! NOT AGAIN!” The father side broke down into hysteric tears. Virgil found himself holding Patton before he could stop himself, simultaneously terrified and wanting to comfort his afflicted best friend. Sobbing, Patton buried into Virgil’s chest. “V-virge I’m a m-m-monster! I can’t even-even kill myself and m-m-m-ake it stop! I tried! I T-TRIED FOR YOU ALL AND-AND NOW R-R-ROMAN’S DEAD!” The dark man rubbed soothing circles into the vampire’s back, heart shattered from everything. “It’s- it’s not your f-fault, Patton.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, but it seemed to soothe the broken man in his arms. Wiping his nose on his dirty cardigan Patton sat up, still hiccupping slightly. “Virgil, please… Run. I don’t… I at least want my dark, strange son to be okay… Leave me, before it’s too late.” Virgil’s eyes widened. “But, you’ll be alone!” Patton’s face darkened. “I’ll be alone either way.” He spat bitterly. He looked up at his best friend, eyes dark and hopeless. “Now run. RUN.” So Virgil ran, the pieces of his shattered heart blowing away with every step he took.

Virgil hid in a cave on a mountainside far away from anyone and anything, watching the days go by. They all melted together, each season muddling into the next. He made it until winter before he decided he couldn’t live like this anymore: in fact, he couldn’t live at all. Tears streaming down his face, he found a jagged rock and, after a brief hesistation, sliced his wrist deeply. The wound briefly bled before sealing up as if by magic. Dread plummeted his stomach. He tried again. And again. He tried to hang himself, jump off the mountain side to his death, poisoning himself… Nothing worked. Everything hurt immensely (and he was violently ill from the poison) but he would always regenerate. At first, this filled him with complete despair. How could he join his friends in the afterlife if he couldn’t die? A sick realization came over him as he remembered the Dragon Witch’s words. ‘I have planted the seeds to entropy within two of you... Good luck figuring out who!’ The words escaped him before he could stop himself. “I’m… I’m immortal.” His voice was hollow and defeated. The dark side brooded over why he was made immortal, why she wanted two alive… The answer made him violently ill. “I’m Patton’s eternal food source.” The anxious side felt numb, and didn’t regain feeling until he had finally trudged back to the part of the forest he knew Patton frequented- the bones and carcasses of animals gave it away.

He found Patton in a tight ball, his clothes stained with blood and dirt. “P-pat?” he asked timidly, the side in question’s head shooting up. “Virgil?” He gasped incredulously, then, “You need to leave. Now. It’s almost time.” Virgil gulped and took a deep breath. “Patton, I… I’m okay. The Dragon Witch.. She made me immortal.” Confusion crossed the fatherly side’s face. “What? Why? How do you know?” Virgil glanced down, shame filling his being. “I… tried to end it, too. She made me immortal to be your… Your…” Patton’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Are you… are you sure?” The anxious one nodded glumly. Patton’s eyes shot to Virgil’s neck quickly, licking his lips hungrily. “I.. I don’t know about this kiddo…” Virgil saw his eyes starting to get the familiar haze and braced himself for what he was sure would be an excruciating experience. Shaking, he tilted his head and exposed his neck to the vampire. The vampirism took hold and Patton bit into his flesh. Virgil screamed in agony as he felt not only his skin and veins get pierced, but he felt his blood draining out of his body. He felt light headed, but the blood never ran out. When Patton was full he stepped back incredulously, licking his lips as he did after every meal. “It’s true…” he whispered. Virgil was completely overwhelmed by the horrific experience. His neck throbbed and his head was spinning, yet still he took off running as fight-or-flight took hold.

 The sun broke through the mist, the fog began clearing and the sky was a deceptively hopeful blue. Virgil sighed. The myth about vampires burning in the sunlight wasn’t true. He and Patton had excellent adventures with each other the past five hundred years, most of which were in the daylight. A quiet knock put the anxious side on edge, a familiar feeling of dread filling his entire being. “Kiddo? You awake?” Patton’s soft voice called, a lingering hunger dancing between the words. Virgil braced himself for what was about to come. “Yeah, Pat. Come on in.”

@storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@ssides @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

[wizcrdingheadcanons]

EDH for Oliver Wood? :)

What does their bedroom look like?

- Half a mess and half freakishly straight. Clothes are strewn across the floor, but his mirror? Is so shiny? And the clothes that are in the closet are color coded and straight.

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

- Wakes up hella early, we always know this. He gets out of bed and STReeTCH, finds his clothes and eats an Athlete Breakfast. Immediately continues to think about/do quidditch. Also kisses s.o. as he downs two black teas in too short a time.

3. Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

- Does he exercise? He is the Student Athlete. He goes for runs in the morning yeah, but also at lunch time he walks around “so he doesn’t stay too stationary.” The whole rest of his life is a quick break from quidditch.

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

- This kid is Such A Shit, so demanding, like the rest of the world needs dinner too. But he would probably charge right in and get in people’s way while simultaneously continually apologizing. 

4. Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

- He knows the habits and what he’s supposed to do but tends to let it all clutter up before doing a massive clean. He’ll leave all his dirty uniforms on the floor to smell before washing them all at once. It’s awful because when he does clean he’s the best at it. The whole dorm is begging, please Oliver, I don’t want to step on that. 

5. Eating habits and sample daily menu

- Eats the most nutritious breakfast you have Ever Seen, as in- ‘that looks disgusting are you sure that’s food?’ nutritious. With a side of Too Much Tea. After that, all bets are off. Cake for lunch, three bowls of Mac n’ Cheese for dinner because: “what’s the point of working out if I can’t do this?” and he can Do That. Everyone hates him, and his six pack, and his sick pack of coke.

6. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

- Generally just cuddling. He feels Indulged and warm inside, especially when he gets to just sit there and annoy the shit out of his s.o. 

He loves it, but when he has to ‘waste time’ with things he deems useless such as homework the whole time is spent feeling like he’s running out of time even if he has plenty of said time and doesn’t really have much to do.

7. Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

- Soaking the Muscles. Warm baths are a good deal to him, especially on cold days. 

He loves to indulge because it makes him feel special.

8. Makeup?

- Highlighter looks Good AF on those cheekbones, he was made for the light glitter, it takes him from looking like rugged hero to Youthful Knight riding the winds.

But he only really likes to wear eyeliner, he feels it makes him look intimidating which he loves (even if he is a big softy). 

9. Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

- Anxiety. All the time. And he knows he’s not supposed to feel Like That but he’s unsure what to do about it.

10. Intellectual pursuits?

- Actually has a deep love for history. He loves to read about the ridiculous shit people pulled off or some of history’s great maneuvers in war. Binn’s was awful though, he learned mostly from his parent’s stories.

11. Favorite book genre?

- Mystery, those books have him on the edge of his seat. Who dunnit? Oliver doesn’t know, but he’s two seconds away from flipping to the last page and solving the Damn Mystery himself. 

12. Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

- G A Y. He’s never given a thought to much else, in fact he hadn’t given much though to it at all, until one day he saw some Nice Quidditch Muscle and it was like a flip switched. He will now be the most loud gay possible and make sure everyone knows it. (they always knew, no one ‘just really admires skill’ that much) 

The only time he really needs to think about sexual orientation is when his fellow teammates might be struggling and he will make his team Happy if it’s the last thing he does.

13.  Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

- Bruises. Everywhere. And also really bad vision. And also Lactose Intolerance which is a killer because his bones need to be the strongest.

 But beyond that he’s doing fine.

14. Biggest and smallest short term goal?

- Biggest: Become World Renowned Star and invent new techniques

Smallest: Woo whoever caught his eye

15. Biggest and smallest long term goal?

- Biggest: Crush his Enemies. And all his Teammates Enemies.

Smallest: Two kids, he wants them.

16. Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

- He likes to walk around in his uniform like some t.v. cheerleader, his team, frankly, is embarrassed by how much he preens. 

And he always takes a moment of pride in his robes.

17. Favorite beverage?

- Milk. But he can’t drink it lol. 

18. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

- A running list of things he has to do the next day. Practice schedules, ways to woo his s.o. what to do with his kids, anything. Probably has to do with that anxiety and sometimes it frustrates him because he needs to get to sleep to be in Top Condition.

19. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

- This Kid. Used to take his broom out at all the worst times and got colds like every week. The worst immune system. 

20. Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

- Passion, mostly. That will get him going (and he is into the Intense Sex) but he also doesn’t mind drooling over some muscle.

He hates an uninterested relationship. Yeah everyone gets a little moody and he will do his hardest to lay any insecurities to rest, but he just can’t stand days of rebuff because they want to play ‘hard to get’.

He also hates too much judgement that is just nasty and not teasing. He’s had a lot of ‘different’ team members and while he can stand sitting around and making fun of passerby’s clothes, he can’t stand much else.

21. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

- Doodles, everything. Might be flowers around the edges, but mostly lets his mind wander until he’s hit with inspiration for new maneuvers which he jots down, then continues to let his mind wander.

22. How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

- Like stated earlier, either grossly messy or freakishly organised. He has every move planned out on the pitch, ask him about an essay due tomorrow? good luck. 

23. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

- He understands the importance of intellectual pursuits and education in general, but he also knows they’re not the top of his list. He can respect if it is though. After schooling he doesn’t tend to seek out his own knowledge though.

24. How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

- Either as the greatest quidditch star Known to Man or a homeless man begging for cash at Hogsmeade. No in between. 

25. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

- He wants to either reach his goals or die trying. He would rather end up with no money than doing a job he doesn’t like.

26. What is their biggest regret?

- Not spending more time with Harry before The Storm hit. Brushing off some people who didn’t like quidditch the same way he did. 

27. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

- Marcus Flint.

Marcus Flint. 

He respects Marcus the same way a crime boss and officer might respect each other. 

28. Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

- When it comes down to it, this kid will drag everyone out of the house at the cost of some of his most important stuff. But once outside he will cry, even if things can be replaced he’s very sentimental and feels like he lost something.

29. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

- Buries himself in working harder. Overthinks until it’s somehow his fault. Probably injuries himself overworking.

30. Most prized possession?

- His current broom.

And then his child’s first broom. 

31. Thoughts on material possessions in general?

- In his mind they’re just thing, but he still holds a lot of his heart in personal things such as photos, his kid’s drawings, love letters etc.

32. Concept of home and family?

- He loves his blood family and will always have a place to go back to. But whenever he feels that specific warmness in his heart whether at a person, place or time he will hold onto that for as long as possible. 

33. Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

- He will burst into your shower to get what he needs. 

34. What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

- Competitiveness off the pitch. But boy, howdy, this kid is so competitive. 

35. What makes them feel guilty?

- That Look some people have when he gets too excited and cuts someone off.

36. Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

- Emotional. He will do whatever it takes because either He Has to Win or His Family Has to be Happy.

37. Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

- THIS KID. Okay so he ‘sees’ himself as Type B because beyond quidditch he’s not really high strung about anything. Or so he believes. 

He once told someone “I mean I don’t know I consider myself to be pretty relaxed.” and his team started choking. Some of them laughed but it came out pretty hysterical. 

38. What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

- Cheesy pep talks. You don’t even have to put much thought into it but if it sounds cheesy it’s good.

39. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

- They swing so easy from confident to The Worst so he’d probably say neither because he knows how delicate it all is. 

40. How misanthropic are they?

- Not at all. He loves people, all sorts. 

41. Hobbies?

- Beyond quidditch he doesn’t really Do  much that he sticks with but he is willing to try absolutely anything once. Which is not a good match with the Weasley’s on the team.

42. How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

- He just went through Hogwarts. He thinks education is very important, and also believes that you should further yourself in anything you are passionate about and learn the h*ck out of it.

43. Religion?

- It’s not that he knows who invented quidditch, because mostly it just sort of came about over a series of time. But whoever would like to take the credit he would like to kneel before.

44. Superstitions or views on the occult?

- Super superstitious omg, don’t get this kid started. You walked under a later? Haha, you’re not playing today. 

And he’s not into occult himself but whatever you’re into, you’re welcome to talk about it. 

45. Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

- Willing to loudly express his opinion. But also is very goal oriented and will get shit done.

46. If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

- Someone just as passionate about him and won’t get upset if he ‘doesn’t pay enough attention’ to them.

47. How do they express love?

- The cheese. Like stop too much. But it’s adorable. And also is very very proud of whoever he loves whether platonically or romantically and will tell everyone about achievements.

48. If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

- Honestly just blindly going for it. 

49. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

- He’s ready, but he wants it to be His Time. He wants to make his mark on the world first.

Mod Lauren

[adscititious-cacoethes]

Petrichor (2/12)

Pairing: Eventual Trevor C./Reader; other background relationships Chapter: 2 of 12 Warnings: Swearing, Danger, (Nerf) Guns, some blood/minor injury mentions, Geoff, vampires and werewolves and things that go bump in the night (PG-13) Word Counts: Chapter: 3,655  Total: 5,836 A/N: Chapter 2! More stuff happens! Yay! Reminder that this has a bunch of supernatural-y stuff, and also that this would not have seen the light of day (pun intended), if it weren’t for @chefgeofframsay. P.S. - Feedback would be cool P. P. S. - sorry if any chapters end kind of weird, this was written as one long thing and then I decided to break it up.  Previous|Next

Ryan and Trevor, it turned out, didn’t live too far from where you had met them, in penthouse apartments that were at the top of a very fancy building. You opened your mouth to ask, but before you could say anything, Trevor leaned down and whispered, “Geoff – you’ll meet him in a bit – he likes his security and has a flair for the dramatic.” You closed your mouth and nodded.

After a long elevator ride, in which Ryan found a single-use wet wipe in his pocket so you could at least get the blood off your face, the doors dinged and slid open, and you were immediately accosted with the smell of wet dog as a shorter, stocky man ran face-first into Ryan.

“Ry, help, you gotta help, the lads –” He couldn’t finish his sentence, however, as two more men burst into view and started running towards the elevator, shooting what looked like – Nerf guns?

“Woah now, alright.” Trevor said, laughing and pulling you behind him so you were out of the line of fire. Ryan rolled his eyes and patted the shorter man – who was now trying to get around Ryan to use him as a shield – on the back with one hand and gestured Trevor to go ahead with the other.

“Ceasefire! Ceasefire!” Trevor shouted half-heartedly, seemingly unsurprised when the Nerf-armed men didn’t react and escorted you down the marbled hallway, doing his best to shield you from stray Nerf-fire. As you walked past the two men, they both waved, the taller one starting to say something before it turned into an unintelligible squawk at the sound of Ryan’s booming voice shout “Gavin!”

“Right this way, don’t mind the idiots.” Trevor said, ushering you quickly around a corner. As you followed Trevor down another (albeit shorter) hall, there was a distinctive thump sound of someone falling on the floor amid more squawking and laughter. You looked down at your watch.

“It’s nearly two in the morning! How are they so awake?” You whispered, half-asking Trevor and half-asking yourself as you stifled a yawn. Trevor just chuckled.

“It happens.” He said, as he led you through a hefty oak door and into a room.

‘Geoff’, it turned out, was someone you’d seen before. His dark hair was unkempt and his eyes seemed sleepy, but they glanced around the room, assessed you and Trevor, standing in the doorway of a kitchen, with such quickness that you knew that the last thing he was, was sleepy.

“What the dicks did you and Ryan do this time?” Geoff asked, scrubbing a hand over his face and sighing. The larger, ginger-bearded man next to him chuckled slightly. They both, simultaneously, lifted their drinks off the island countertop they were sitting at and drank. Blinking, you could See the royal blue aura swirl around the other man, while Geoff had a deep purple with crackling streaks of white.

“In our defense, we didn’t do anything. She ran into us, and then her assailants ran into us, and then they ran away.” Trevor explained vaguely, resting a hand on your shoulder as he did so.

“Care to elaborate?” Geoff sighed again, even heavier if that was possible.

You shifted your feet a little, glancing up at Trevor, who just smiled down at you, “Uh, well, I’m [Y/N], and I was closing up my shop for the night and walking home when these two men started following me. So I started running, and then they started running, and at some point they pulled out guns, and I turned a corner and literally ran into Ryan and they helped me, and then an Unseelie appeared out of nowhere – I’m assuming using some sort of illusion, because we’re not in the business of invisibility – and nearly strangled me but Ryan shot him and then he teleported, I think, and the whole thing was very scary considering he clearly knew who I was but I have no idea who he is and – ” You broke off a little bit, voice still raspy, tears stinging at your eyes and threatening to fall, but then Trevor squeezed your shoulder just ever so slightly, and you swallowed hard, “and yeah. That’s uh, that’s about it.” You finished, swallowing again and thanking all that is good in the world for allowing you to get through something without crying for once in your life.

Geoff looked at you thoughtfully, but it was the man next to him that spoke first, “An Unseelie? ‘We’ aren’t in the business?” he asked, probing but still kind.

“Uh, yeah, I could tell he was Unseelie from his scars. And he bled blue when Ryan shot him.” You gestured to your shirt, where a smattering of dark blue, still-drying blood went clear down your torso, “And I mean, um, I’m fae too – but I’m from the Seelie Court – well, not the Court itself, I’m no royalty, I just mean I’m not Unseelie, they’re not very nice – not, not that we have a reputation of being nice either and – well, if that bothers you, I can go, it’s not a problem, I know we’re not always welcome, even in the, uh – company – of non-humans…” You stumbled over your words before trailing off when you realized that Geoff was laughing.

Laughing!

You weren’t sure what that meant, so you just shifted your feet a little and dropped your gaze to the floor, willing yourself to keep your tears at bay for just a little bit longer. You felt Trevor’s thumb rub small circles where his hand still laid, heavy on your shoulder, and you couldn’t tell anymore if it was for comfort or if it was to keep you there because Geoff was still laughing, he was laughing hysterically, and neither of the other men were stopping him, in fact you thought you could hear the red-haired man laughing, too, and –

“Jesus Christ, dude! Unwelcome! You did pass Michael and Gavin on the way in, right? If those idiots have keys, why would you be unwelcome!” Geoff finally spit out, still cackling intermittently between words.

You looked up at him through your lashes, “Uh, I – I don’t know?” you admitted, uncertain, mind flashing back to all of the “talks” your parents had with you about how fae historically don’t have a great reputation and to always be careful because “not everyone thinks of the Seelie Court rather pleasantly.”

Geoff, for his credit, just laughed harder, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Jack, think we could find something close to [Y/N]’s size, so she can change and get her throat looked at? I can see it purpling from here.” Geoff said, finally calming down, and the other man – Jack – let out a cheery, “Sure, Geoff!” before disappearing…literally.

“Whoops, sorry, Jack does that, he’s –” Trevor started, but you cut him off as nicely as you could, “Djinn, I know. I can See it.”

“Why don’t you come take a seat, [Y/N]? Take a load off, you’ve had an eventful night, and now you’re in the company of a houseful of idiots.” Geoff offered, the only indication that he heard your interjection being a slight raise of an eyebrow. You nodded, and Geoff slid off the barstool he was sitting on and plodded down the three small steps into what you assumed was the living room (based on décor), you and Trevor following close behind. As Geoff settled into an armchair and you practically fell onto one of the multiple sofas that crowded the room, Trevor let his hand slip from your shoulder. Turning in your seat, you saw him walking back through the kitchen towards the door that you came through. You thought that you did it casually, but Geoff must have seen some sort of something, because he just chuckled.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back. He’s probably going to detach Ryan from the lads.” Geoff assured you as the door swung shut behind Trevor. You sighed and turned back to face Geoff, tucking your feet under you and adjusting your wings so that you could settle back against the cushions.

“You know, you don’t have to hide them here.” Geoff said, gesturing slightly above your head, “No pressure, of course. I wouldn’t go full-out fae, though, ‘cause some of the others haven’t really encountered faeries.”

You nodded. Most people – Normal or not – haven’t really encountered faeries. All fae are able to “shapeshift”, or make an illusion, in a way, so that they can appear human but with wings. This takes little to no energy – to the point that even infants will shift back and forth between the two. Add a little more energy (still not enough to really warrant concentration or thought, though, unless very ill (unlikely) or close to death (slightly more likely)), and the wings disappear, as well, leaving a very plain, ordinary-looking human that retains the same basic body characteristics as the fae counterpart.

You weighed the thought in your mind, then decided that if they were going to kill you they probably would’ve done it already, and they know you’re a faery so fuck it and you let down your illusion. Some fae could actually, physically shape-shift, like shifters and werewolves, but you were not one of them, so you relied on your inherent illusionary magic, like most other fae did.

“So, which one from Tinker Bell are you?” Geoff asked once you shed the illusion, and while you made a face at his comparison, he was sort of right. All fae had the same basic qualities, traits, and abilities. Some can be trained to become stronger (like using aura to create barriers and weapons) and some, like the stupid chain of direct-to-DVD Disney movies implied, you were born able to utilize and/or were better at.

“For the record, I don’t think you should make that reference around the aforementioned others who “haven’t really encountered” fae. But illusions, mostly. I’m better at that than anything else. And I possess the Sight, but that’s hardly fae-exclusive.” You replied, smiling a little at the way Geoff’s eyebrows shot into his hairline.

“Well color me surprised. It’s been decades since I’ve ran into someone with the Sight. I doubt most of the boys will even know what you’re talking about if you reference it. Can you Predict, as well?” Geoff asked, leaning forward a little in his chair.

“Uh, not that I know of? All things considering, I’m still pretty young. There’s potential for it to develop. But my Mentor in the Seelie Court found it unlikely, because she started Predicting in her dreams when she was much younger than I am. Also, you can’t be colored surprised, you’re purple.” Geoff barked out a laugh at that.

“Am I really? Last person I came across refused to tell me what she Saw. Almost didn’t believe her until she stopped me from going into a business deal on the full moon on account of the other party were werewolves and planning to rip me to shreds.” Geoff continued to chuckle, sipping his drink, and you forced out a smile.

Your father said that Geoff was a “business contact”. Now you weren’t quite sure what kind of business he had been talking about.

You were trying to decide whether or not to ask when the door behind you burst open, making you jump and whip around.

“Oh, sorry, hi there [Y/N], sorry I left you and Trevor to fend for yourselves during Geoff’s interrogation, I couldn’t get Jeremy off my back and then Gavin managed to nail me in the Adam’s Apple and…well…you get my point.” Ryan said, striding towards you, Trevor close behind and Jack bringing up the rear with a folded bundle in his arms. You settled down, realizing with embarrassment that you were hovering off the couch about an inch.

Jack handed you the bundle – which upon closer inspection was clothes with a little white mason jar laying on top – with a smile, “Luckily, Meg left some clothes over at Gavin’s the other day, so these should probably fit you well. Trevor here can show you one of the spare rooms where you can shower and change. Clean your neck as best you can and then rub some of this stuff on it – it’ll sting a little, but it’ll make your bruises fade fast.”

“Thank you.” You said earnestly, smiling up at the man. You stood and turned to look at Trevor, expecting him to show you where to go, only to find him staring at you – well, staring above you. You sighed, frowning, before taking a deep breath and hiding your wings again. Jack nudged him with his elbow and Trevor blinked rapidly before gesturing towards the door.

“Uh, right, sorry, right this way!” He announced, hurrying forward with long strides, and you could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks turn a little pink (that is impossible, you reminded yourself, he’s a vampire).

You still tucked it away as a reminder to do some research when you were back at your shop.

“So, Trevor.” You started, letting your wings push you forward just a little bit to keep up with his long strides.

“So, [Y/N].” Trevor echoed, looking down at you.

“Are you a ‘don’t let me see that again’ guy or a ‘can I see that more’ guy?” You asked.

Trevor’s eyebrows shot towards his hairline, mouth slightly agape, “I don’t know what you just said but it sounded inappropriate. Suggestive, even.”

You laughed and shook your head, “No, the wings. You were staring.”

“Ohhhhhhh” Trevor drew it out, nodding sagely for a moment before his eyes went wide, almost comically large, “That was rude, probably, right? I’m sorry.” Trevor rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand, slowing down to almost a stop, head hung low. You stepped forward a little bit, stopping completely, so that you could see him (and he could see you).

“Our wings are a source of pride, when we’re in situations where we can show them. It’s not rude at all. Now, if I was one of the super-duper old faeries that was a part of the Court, I might be offended, but times have changed, and the offense wouldn’t’ve come from the staring.” You smiled at him, trying to reassure him – you tried to tell yourself that it was because he helped you Not Die and is a nice person or whatever but really it was because he’s a cutie and the last thing you wanted to do was scare him away.

Either it worked or he realized that maybe you were a little too close for strangers, because he nodded and smiled back, his whole face brightening with the gesture, and then he was walking again, practically bouncing around a corner and down another hall. You were surely lost at this point, there’s no way a building this size could have this many hallways, and you made a mental note to ask Geoff if he enchanted the place or something, but you eventually caught up to Trevor, who was waiting by a door.

“This is one of the guest rooms, Jack told me to tell you that you can stay here for the night and that if you’re tired you don’t have to come back to the living room and chat.” Trevor told you as he pushed open the door.

“Well then.” You said, looking at the room from the doorway. It was easily bigger than your entire apartment, and although it was sparsely decorated it was still cozy, with a large bed and a TV and a small desk in the corner. It was dimly lit, but there were two small windows on either side of the bed letting in both street- and moonlight. You looked down at the plush, expensive-looking rug that covered the area just inside the door and almost didn’t want to step on it in your worn and dirty shoes.

“You okay?” Trevor asked from behind you, making you jump a bit.

“Uh, yeah, just bigger than I expected.”

“That’s your second innuendo of the night! You’re on a roll! Now c’mon, I’m sure you want to get a shower.” Trevor beamed at you, stepping around you and waltzing into the room. You followed, setting the bundle given to you by Jack on the bed before plopping down yourself and bringing a foot up to untie the laces of your shoes.

“I didn’t realize that my vernacular speech was so dirty.” You said, peeling the shoe off your foot and lifting the other one to do the same.

“Well, we’re learning all kinds of things tonight, then, good for us!” Trevor was in the bathroom at this point, and you could hear the shower curtain squeal across the metal pole for a moment before he shouted out to you, “How hot do you like your shower?”

“Just this side of bearable.” You replied, and there was a beat of silence before Trevor’s head poked around the half-open bathroom door.

“Really?” He asked incredulously, one eyebrow raised.

“Just for tonight. I know I wiped off that blood but it still feels nasty.” You explained, and he nodded before ducking back into the bathroom. You stretched and ran a hand through your hair, hearing the shower turn on, and a few minutes later Trevor stepped back into the room.

“So, you should have anything you’d ever want in there – Jack likes to keep extras of everything in the guest rooms in case we run out or have unexpected guests. I just checked and there are towels, so you’re good there. And uh, yeah. I can get out of your hair now.” He chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck again.

You sighed, picking up the bundle of clothes and walking towards the bathroom, “If you’d like, you can stay. I don’t mind and if I’m honest, I have no idea what’s going on with my life right now so it’d be kind of comforting to know that someone else is nearby while I’m in the shower ‘cause that’s like, a vulnerable place to be and whatever.” You sort of rushed the words out as you pushed the door open and set the clothes on the counter in the bathroom, hoping that what you’d said made sense (or at the very least, if it didn’t, Trevor still understood what you meant).

“You got it, boss!” You heard Trevor say as you closed the door, still giggling as you brushed your hair and stripped and stepped into the shower.

The water was perfectly “just this side of bearable”, as requested, which made you happy as you chose from the at least a dozen each hotel-sized shampoos and soaps and conditioners, letting your illusions fall and taking your time to scrub yourself clean in the privacy of a closed shower in a locked bathroom.

After your nice, long shower, you wrapped yourself up in an extremely fluffy towel and wiped away some steam from the mirror, staring at your Marks for any signs of change.

Well, fae called them Marks, anyone else would probably refer to them as tattoos. Every faery child is born with a Mark, the nature and design unique to the child but also conforms to the family bloodline. As a child grew up, experienced new things and events that shaped them as a person, the Mark would grow and change.

Your family bloodline seemed keen to vineyards, and you were no exception, a single grape leaf starting in your palm, the vine wrapping up your arm and across your collarbones, just barely reaching your right shoulder, an offshoot dipping down towards your belly button and another, smaller one inching up your neck. Here and there, another grape leaf appeared – you had concluded a long time ago that those are people of significance either coming into or leaving your life. The pale green contrasted nicely with the rosy glow of your skin (or at least that’s what your mother always told you). You searched and searched, convinced that this strange encounter warranted something, but to no avail. Sighing, you half-heartedly convinced yourself that Marks don’t always start growing and changing immediately, and you willed your illusion back up to cover your Marks and change your skin tone.

You carefully and gently applied the cream that Jack had given you – immediately feeling cool, tingly relief where you had forgotten that you needed it – before putting your undergarments back on, as well as the T-shirt and leggings that Jack had given you.

Opening the door gave a burst of cold air, and you shivered slightly.

“Hi there.” You heard off to the right, and sure enough, Trevor was sitting in the chair at the desk, scrolling through if phone with his feet propped up on the corner. The light from the bathroom and from his phone were the only lights in the room, Trevor must’ve drawn the blinds and curtains closed on the windows.

“You stayed.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself, immediately feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

“You asked.” Trevor responded, and you could see his smile through the soft light.

You opened your mouth to speak, but instead a yawn came out, and suddenly your whole body felt like lead.

“I’ll get out of your hair for real this time, then. I’m actually the next door down, so when you get up and whatever you can stop by. I realized while you were in the bathroom that I probably was walking too fast for you to remember how the fuck to get back to the kitchen.” Trevor chuckled a little, and you couldn’t help but giggle, too.

“Alright, thank you, Trevor.” You beamed at him as he gracefully stood from his chair and walked out the door, muttering a ‘goodnight’ before closing it.

You collapsed face-first onto the bed and were asleep within minutes.

[brandnewbarelybroken]

Chance - Chapter One (Kookmin)

Rating: NC-17

Jungkook was just starting to clean himself up. Slow, lazy movements coming with practiced ease, that still managed to speak volumes about his non-commital attitude toward getting home at a decent hour. It’s not like it really mattered anyway, whether he was there or not. His eomma was probably already drunk and face down on the bedroom floor.

He was just pulling up his faded and least worn out pair of skinny jeans, when he heard something in the distance. It was strange. Not the noise, he could hardly hear it properly enough to identify what it was. It was the fact that it was there at all. He knew this school and its varying daily schedules better than he knew his own class schedule. He also knew the floor plans, lawns, ins and outs of everything. He even knew the maintenence room, boiler room, basement and shed. So, he knew there shouldn’t be anybody, AT ALL, left in the entire place.

It was Friday, everybody boned out as soon as the bell rings on Fridays. No clubs were meeting, at the school anyway. Maintenence was done on Saturdays and cleaning on Sundays. He knew some club or other did something on Saturday or maybe Sunday, but he couldn’t think of that right now because the sound was becoming louder, and Jungkook’s curiosity as well as his delay-going-home-tactics, were making him feel a bit —–voyeuristic.

Grinning widely, Jungkook could feel his heart beat picking up speed a bit in anticipation. He was pretty sure he knew where the noise was coming from. It was a personal favorite of his own for fucking random chicks (with its near constant availability and being practically unknown to most students.) Having identified the source, he pricked his ears to hear any proof of his conclusion.

“Shit, I can’t hear from here at all.” Standing up and haphazardly brushing any little pepples off his ass, he grabbed his shoes and socks and headed toward the roof access door to investigate.

Hopping down the stairs two at a time, he perked his ears. Weird. He was positive when he was on the roof that it was coming from the second girls locker room. Now it sounded like it was coming from the other direction. Well, whatever, the roof probably messed with his hearing.

Jungkook headed east, toward the gymnasium, keeping his steps quiet and listening intently. When he passed a bench he dropped his shit there and continued on barefoot. He always loved being in school alone. It felt more like home to him than the place he lived.

As he neared the basketball courts he began to hear a staccato rapping sound and what sounded like hushed voices.

‘Hah! They are probably being loud as fuck if I can hear them from here,’ he thought as he his face morphed into an excited smirk. ‘Maybe its that Sophia chick I fucked last week. She seemed really thirsty all day today. Hmm, if its not her I could always hit her up after this. Or maybe even if it is her. Heh. Earlier was good enough, even if the chick complained about being fat the whole time, but now Im about to get a show and I’ll need dinner to go with it.’ Jungkook laughed lowly at his own stupid jokes and crossed the basketball court heading toward the indoor courts.

Only, as soon as he entered and the heavy door fell shut behind him, the sounds seemed to take on a different sort of feeling. It was louder sure, but still heavily muffled. It also seemed to be echoing heavily. He paused to consider the places that could cause that sort of echo, but was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when an ear splitting wail crashed through the enormous room.

“Fuck! What the fucking hell?” He shouted in surprise. Feeling a bit like a wimp for having jumped a bit, too.

Before he could even think of a response he heard a heavy sobbing sound echoing lowly toward him, Without thinking he rushed toward the big storage room and threw open the door. Empty. He ran across the court toward the back hall that connected this gym to the theatrical department. As soon as he stepped inside he could hear a low whimpering.

“Shit, why is it here. This place is full of random alcolves and shit.” Although it was one of his favorite areas to nap in, it was also a great place for hide and seek, which made it the worst place possible at the moment.

Jungkook jogged down the hall, peeking through classroom windows, only to keep going when they each turnd up empty. When he reached the dividing hall separating stage access to dressing rooms, he grinded to a halt. He could hear much better now, and what he heard froze him in place. Quiet voices and gut wrenching sobs.

“Good boy. That’s my sweet boy. So beautiful when you cry. Trembling for me. I’ve waited so long…so long to see you this way angel. The pain of being separated from you is a constant crushing agony. To finally have you in front of me, to be able to touch you this way. It is truly paradise. My very own Eden, my sweet, sweet angel.”

Interspersed with the creepy monolouge were gasps and sobs, pleas.

“Please…I don’t know you. Please. I…I…Ah!…please, please… Why….what do you…no. No. No. Anything else, please! I…I…,” the pleas were riddled with broken sobs and heartbreaking hiccups, the voice seemed too afraid to finish its thoughts out loud, as though any question they could ask would have an extremely disturbing response.

'Shit, that voice sounds really familiar. Fuck, I know I know it from somewhere,’ feeling seriously shook up, still trying to pinpoint the direction he needs to go and simultaneously hoping to identify the terrified voice he was listening to, Jungkook was trying hard not to panic. He knows that if he had more time to slow down and think, he would probably be hysterical. He’s not the saving-people type. He’s the sneak-up-on-idiots-fucking-and-watch-them type. He doesn’t know what he is even doing. He just knows he can’t stop.

Jungkook threw himself toward the dressing rooms, hoping the echos were being produced there. He couldn’t tell, though, if the sounds were becoming clearer or not. When he paused for a moment to check, he heard the deep male voice again, and he froze.

“Why? Oh, Jimin. My sweet, soft, little Jimin. My precious angel. Surely you must know how utterly delectable you are? Completely sinful. So lovely. Though, no. No, I suppose,” the mans voice took on a gravelly and angry edge that was somehow even more frightening, “I suppose these… children,” he spat the word children like a vulgar swear, “have done their upmost to keep you from realizing the truth. Jealous of your spotless beauty and otherworldy glow. Uncomfortable with their own mediocre looks and lacking any useful skills or even remotely impressive talents. Filthy little shits.” He growled low, but suddenly took on a sweetened tone and cooed in a paradoy of sweet talk, “But I am here now and you belong to me. I will spend every moment from now on showing you exactly how others see you. You will be made to understand just how deep your abilty to drive men and women to the very depths of human desire runs. You are so effortlessly enchanting. So innocent yet utterly lewd. But you are MINE. ”

A loud thwack followed by a shocked cry forced Jungkook to wake up from the shocked stupor he’d fallen into. He had been frozen in horror, his heart positively vibrating. He could feel his hands shaking. The man had said Jimin. Jungkook knew of course that Jimin was a pretty common name in Korea, but this wasn’t Korea. And Jungkook only knew one person with that name, who had the same somewhat high breathy voice he’d thought he recognized only a short while ago. Only now it was busted and shredded and filled with fear, becoming almost unrecognizable.

Jungkook darted to the dressing rooms, taking them one at a time, positively flying through the lead roles, lesser roles, fitting rooms. He was panting harshly and dripping sweat, his thoughts not making any sense. He didn’t understand what was even happening right now. Odd thoughts and feelings were swirling through him so fast he couldn’t make them out. The only thing he could truly feel and understand was the fear. He was so fucking scared he wouln’t get there in time to prevent something truly deplorable. What was already happening? What if he was already too late? He could still hear that horrible voice talking, and talking. Jimin was still sobbing and it sounded almost like he was choking. But he couldnt find them!

“Do you understand? You belong to me. If you ever, ever, let anybody touch you in ANY way, I will kill them. I will remove their filthy hands and gut them like swine. Do you uderstand me Jimin? You belong to me alone! This soft hair. This smooth skin. These taunt muscles…. firm thighs… this pretty pink cock. They do not belong to you. They are MINE.”

Jungkook lost the voice for a second when it seemed to become a whisper. He couldn’t catch it, it kept slipping or multiplying or simply changing.

“FUCK! Its all over the fucking place!” But when the man shouted a possessive MINE, Jungkook spun around and ran back toward the stage access. That’s the only place left.

He knew he was having insane thoughts, trying to process the words he was hearing. He knew now Jimin must already…already… Fuck, he can’t think of that right now. 'It’s not too late Jungkook. It’s not too late,’ he repeated in his head over and over. It wasn’t really working but it did prevent him from getting lost in what ifs.

“Please! No! No! Don’t, don’t touch! Ah! No no no no no…”

“Ha! Sweet little Jimin! You say no but your body is greedy, it wants more. More than quick wanks used only to relieve stress. You havn’t been self loving yourself lately baby. Why is that? Or did you realize that you need more than,” Jungkook didn’t know if he could actually hear it or if it was just implied, but he swore he heard a gulp, “more than the tentative teasing of small fingers against your pretty little hole. I know it must have been so frustrating, trying to pleasure yourself and not knowing how. Not being able to reach. Ill help you my love.”

Jungkook knew he had tears slipping down his cheeks. He could feel the warmth dripping onto his collar bone. His eyes were becoming blurry and he was beginning to feel hopeless. This guy sounded like he knew Jimin. Like he’d been watching him.

He skidded to a halt in the middle of the rounded stage. Bending over with his hands on his knees, trying to breathe but mostly just panting harshly. He knew they were close by, he could hear them so clearly.

'Goddamn it Jungkook! Think! You know this place better than anybody!’ He tugged his hair roughly, and tried to block out the sickening sounds. Tried to ignore his tear soaked face and his throbbing heart.

“You are so lovely Jimin. So, so lovely. Glowing skin, shining with sweat, flushed and trembling. How long I’ve waited for this, for you to belong to me. I will mark you as mine and everyone will know. All those filthy vermin, feasting their unworthy eyes on you! On my property! Then the insolence! Turning around to shove you and mock you! They will pay, but another day. This day is for us. Oh, Jimin, we truly belong together. Soon you too will know this. Soon, I will put my body inside of you, connecting us deeply to one another, and then you will see….so beautiful…”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shit! Left wing, right wing, stage hands. Lights, curtains, orchestra… Shit, where, where?” Jungkook whispered harshly to himself, still tugging his dark, sweaty locks. 'As if this wasn’t already so goddman hard, that nasty shit won’t shut up!’ Then he heard Jimin again, and he was seriously afraid he was gonna pass out from his heart suddenly stopping.

“Ah! Ah! Please no! I don’t like it! I don’t like it! I don’t want it! Stop! No no no no. Why, this, stop…,” deep shuddering breaths interspersed with choked off gasps, “Ahhh! It..it hurts!”

Jungkook can barely see from the fat tears rolling down his face. 'Think…think..WAIT!’

Jungkook runs behind the curtain, and looks up into the lights. Of course, there was an electricity panel located near the spotlight high up in the rafters. It had its own little cupboard that was really more of closet. And he happened to know that Jimin was a volunteer in the various theatrical clubs. He helped soloists practice by running the lights and spotlights when the lighting crew wasn’t obligated to be there.

“Fuck!” Jungkook threw his body toward the ladder. His hands were sweating and shaking and his legs were burning but he pushed through, and continued to climb.

“Help me! Please! Somebody! No! Plea-”

SMACK.

“Jimin, baby, I don’t want to hurt your lovely face, and I love to hear you scream, but you really need to be a bit more quiet.”

Jungkook was almost there. He had to slow down so he didn’t topple over, this really wasnt a super safe set up. He had to make his way around two entire walls to reach the lights facing the stage, that were so stupidly located on the other side of this stupid huge room! But he was beginning to feel another rush of adrenaline. He forgot the burning in his legs, the practically dangerous beating of his heart, his tears. He was almost there. Almost.

“No! NO! No no no n-”

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Jungkook jolted with every loud smack, the increasing volume shattering his barely built up hope. He was amost there. A few more steps, he could see the door. It wasn’t latched.

“Aww, Jimin. Look what you made me do. I so wanted to hear you and look into your eyes as I stake my claim on you, branding it into your flesh, for the very first time. Well, this docile you is quite enchanting, too. Oh, but I wanted to see you cum. Well, another time.”

Jungkook reached the door and didn’t hesitate to kick it with all his pent up adrenaline and fear and fucking aggression. To finally get Jimin away from that twisted, disgusting voice.

BANG! The door crumbled beneath his bare foot, he couldnt even feel any pain.