#if I were capable of dreaming; I would’ve slept through everything.

[froggipied]

For Science Chapter 4: Escape

ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/41680413/chapters/135558835#workskin

word count: 4.5k

Aperture science respects your cause for concern when it comes to the production of our certified Sentry Guards. However, any reports of harm, injury, or death are not viable for lawsuit at this time.  If you would like to file a lawsuit with aperture science regarding the death of a relative in our care, just know..They read their contract and filed the form for you already. 

If you have been threatened by a Sentry Guard in the last 30 days, we’re sorry, but you cannot make a Certified Complaint with our department at this time. If you have been threatened or maimed more recently than 30 days, we’re also sorry, but Aperture Science will need to have the fully-Intact Bullets returned to us as soon as they are located on your person. Our guards now shoot 60 percent more bullet for every bullet used.

————-

When you came to, it was to silence and an empty room. No opened doors, no mechanical clicks and quiet shifts of metal beside you as it’d been when you’d fallen asleep. Considering the situation, you slept just fine. Dreamless and unbothered. However, now as you got to your feet, you were bothered by the utter lack of noise. Well, besides the door that clicked to open as you stood, crossing a sensor you weren't aware was there. It wasn’t of much concern to you, though, you weren’t going to move until you’d gotten your bearings.

And figured out where your robot companion had gone off to?

You stayed in place, wandering the same three-walled space in a paced pattern, back and forth, maybe changing up with what foot you stepped with first, dominant or non-dominant, flexing your hands out in front of you and swaying back and forth while you waited.

Patience got boring very quickly, and you found yourself walking through the door that clicks open upon your approach.

Surely, you decide for yourself, surely I can figure out my own way through. Otherwise, how would personnel have gone through here prior to the Portal gun’s creation? And sure, many catwalks were rusted and finicky and certainly not trustworthy and would’ve been condemned and out of use by a better company, but you figured that as long as you were quick, you were fine. A reasonable assumption, under better circumstances. Just not when you’re crossing towards a room and the catwalk makes an ugly cccrrrrr sound under your feet, falling to the ground below as you reach the next door. You stare behind yourself, the empty space where the catwalk had just been, bewildered. That’s not viable. Once again, a part of you was longing to be in the testing chambers. At least those were being monitored by an intelligence that needed non-mechanical life. The facility on the other hand? Alive and yet not.

Room to room, nothing much changed, besides it getting cleaner-looking. The walls were all a little less yellow, tiles weren’t so mis-aligned, although still clearly not cared for. An effect of a certain robot doing her best to rebuild everything while focusing on an upset human traversing..and also likely being aware of a wanderer somewhere behind her testing tracks. That part didn’t ring so positive for you.

And you miss the chatter, already.

It’s far too silent to be comfortable. Well, comfort in Aperture was more of a fever-dream of sorts. The love you had for a game was quickly replaced by concern of the lack of safety. Self-preservation was more important than you’d initially figured it’d be. And it’s not like you had the safety of boots strapped to you that would prevent breaking your legs. Or a gun capable of keeping you from hitting the floor ages beneath you too hard. Hard facts to face, really.

But, you weren’t stuck with the complete and utter silence of opening doors for very long. You crossed into a room you didn’t recognize at all, stark white on every wall, with shattered glass decorating the floor, large broken out panels leading to some structure you couldn’t place. Definitely not in the game you knew. Testing chambers and certain far away areas you might’ve been able to recall, but you found yourself wondering; what the hell was this?

Whatever it was..it was broken. Not recently, either. Something mechanical,dim and dark. In the distance past the glass, you could almost make out what looked to be disjointed testing tracks, broken apart to pieces, and a dim, broken button far out near the center of the open space. 

Hell, those tracks could survive a real beating, then.

“Is someone out there?”

A voice you didn’t recognize. Not in the slightest. So you get a move on, putting a little pep in your step as you cross through the doors clicking closed with some guy’s call of “-Hey!” 

Alright maybe, just maybe you were a little concerned about going through aperture’s ‘skeleton’ on your own without knowing where you were going. That’s completely normal and to be expected, as far as you cared. 

From one door into the next, away from the room of broken glass when you slowly come to a pause,considering the room for a moment. Maybe that’s what that line meant— but that room’s never seen, so maybe you were wrong.

You weren’t left to your own devices for very long at all past the unfamiliar room. Another set of doors, and you found just the robot you were looking for, hanging off of a management rail,swaying back and forth a little, unsturdy and quiet until you crossed his line of sight

”Ah! Hold on-ah, god that’s right. Look, I tried to check on you. Like a ROCK—you are. Sleeping. I came back there twice. To tell you stuff. Keep you up to date. Not even a blink.” Wheatley fumbles his words while you brush it off. 

“I’d guess you went to check up on her in person?”

“ ‘person’, very funny.” Wheatley squints before he rolls forward on the rail “Bu yes— I did. Let her know we're actively working on it, and to just use that good old humanity’s will and just keep holding on. Speaking of which, I actually came up with an idea—while you were asleep, sorry to say you couldn’t hear the thought process, not too long of one,but regardless.” Wheatley starts, and rolls ahead on the management rail while you follow on foot through a pair of opened doors into what seemed to be a storage room of sorts.

A very dirty, uncared for, storage room. Broken down walls with dimming panel hydraulics. Partially broken or burned cubes smashed into a corner of the room, broken down turrets littering the floor, and you stare around yourself all while Wheatley talks with his eye closed.

”So I was thinking, Turrets. She fancies using them—a lot, actually. Seems to be. This might…actually be where she’s throwing away the ones our lady breaks. Isn’t that uh..hah..cool” he pauses, squinting as he stares at a recently burned out turret “Er..Point being..Sometimes, they’re made defective—“ you’re fairly sure he said something about being in the turret creation department once, but you don’t question him “—And when that happens, they usually come without proper eyesight. The little buggers are infrared..pretty sure that’s the proper term. While they could be calibrated to specifically see something like…ay Metal, I guess—“ he gestures down at himself pointedly “They’re more..heat-signature based and motion capturing.”

”So..similar to the automatic doors?”

”Same function, except a lot more uh..shoot-y” Wheatley grunts with a breath he didn’t need to take. “But— On the good side of things, they’re usually confined to the ah..testing chambers. No reason to be back here any, so it’s just one of those..keep it in mind—paper in the pocket type of things.”

”Right,” you mutter, watching Wheatley roll through the rail into the next room.

 Once again, you were separated from the core as he went rolling down his management rail, and you were left scuffing your shoes against metal while you wandered down the catwalks. Grateful for a bit of rest, surely but..starved and dehydrated. You had to wonder how the testing chambers accounted for that, assuming it was the near non-stop testing that it was in the game. A recycled room of air—which you were wondering if that applied directly outside of the testing track— and adrenal vapors to keep a person going running on adrenaline, causing a loss of time, but did it account for eating and drinking as well? Or really anything else?

Either way, you were doubtful you’d figure it out for yourself before the facility would rip apart again.

Again. It was sad to think about, really. And..immensely dangerous to consider, now that you were following the narrative set before your hands, but even if you could change it, you really wouldn’t. What would it accomplish, other than preventing Chell from being able to escape? 

It wouldn’t fix much if anything, that you knew for certain. The same routine for everyone involved—which now included yourself—would fix nothing.

You frown to yourself as you pass from room to room without stopping to check where you were. You could guess it was getting closer and closer, and you swore there was something you must’ve been forgetting to mention. Something just in the recesses of your mind, something important that you should most definitely mention and you’re almost sure you’ve got it but—-…nothing.

”And..here we are.” Wheatley grabs your attention the moment you hear him in the next room. You don’t recognize the room, really. Colorful and dim, paintings of different sizes and niches on every wall, and it was definitely some sort of staff room, but you couldn’t place it.

”Where is here?”

”The aperture art gallery. Abandoned in the 1980s..I think.” Wheatley remarks, tilting his head as he considers one of the dim, dull colored paintings. Abstract in style and color, and muddied and mottled by time. “See, now here might be why this whole thing was abandoned. I mean, just look at it. Granted, there’s some color there—speck of red, a little bit of orange here—I mean, maybe it’s a rainbow. Not the best I’ve seen. Doubt it’s the best you’ve seen either. Course, there’s no descriptions on any of this, so it’s not like we’ll ever really know, but I bet this is why this was abandoned.”

”It’s abstract.”

”Abstract..” Wheatley repeats with a skeptical glance thrown your way “Abstract in what—talent?” Then he blinks, pupil constricting as though he’d said something wrong “Not to say the painter isn’t talented, of course! Probably massive talent. Might’ve also painted that uh..blue..thing over there. Uhm…It’s just not the most applied.”

”Abstract isn’t meant to be anything..or something like that.” You murmur “It’s supposed to invoke a feeling rather than an object.”

”Mm.” Wheatley hums mechanically, squinting at the abstract art before he rolls forwards on his management rail “Could be that it’s not even abstract. None of these could’ve been made by the scientists.”

”Why’s that?”

”Never seen a scientist with a silly name like Doug.” And Wheatley grunts “Doug’s great name. Fantastic, actually, now that I think about it. Just not a science-y name..uhm..Definitely a painter’s name, though. Excellent painter’s name. Better than uh..better then…” Wheatley trails off slowly, trying to come up with any name of a painter that he knew, but draws a complete and total blank. ”let’s just..let’s just move on.” The robot ultimately mutters, leading you out of Aperture’s gallery. 

And to another room where you couldn’t find the core, what with no maintenance rail leading through the room. 

You’re no longer all that surprised to be separated from the core, most of the white rooms were almost entirely closed off, and you were left in another section of upper Aperture you didn’t understand. A mottled room, with water damage stains across the ceiling, broken parts of wall where it appeared as though internal piping may have burst, and mold growing in one of the corners. A nasty room to be in, altogether. You didn’t want to stay longer than you had to at all, but something dimly lit caught your eye.

A small, partially broken computer screen was still running, though the boxed computer itself looked to be on its last legs, dust blowing out from behind it while the fans still churned. And you read what you could with what you could see on the screen. 

-

4552415345:

This isn’t working out the way any of us expected. We’re told to keep on going, like these aren’t real people. This was supposed to be easier than 52454d. That’s what she told us, that it would be less involved and we would only need to provide them with results. They want us to see this as the easier one, the lesser of the two. What we’re doing to these people. I should be smart enough to tell someone, or get out of this department. I’m a scientist. I’m a marine biologist. I don’t experiment. I wouldn’t even treat a fish like this.

4920646f6e27742077616e7420746f20746f72747572652074686573652070656f706c6520616e796d6f72652e204920616d206120474f4f4420706572736f6e2e2049276d20736f20736f7272792e

-

You stare as the screen flickers out, leaving you in the dilapidated room without much light beyond through the set of doors. But you’re stuck in place, thinking. This is new. Of course, in the game, human experimentation had been implied and vaguely referenced, but this was direct.

You didn’t like it.

Or seeing the opinion of someone who worked on whatever experiment that was about.  You leave the room hurriedly, the fear of being left behind in this creeping into the back of your head. You could think of these things later. When you didn’t have a robot to help, and a human to help escape.

if you could really call your part in things helping.

Your eyes open wide as you turn the corner to the next room, only to find a few working turrets laid around the room. Wide open, with no straight bee-line towards the exit. You almost wish you stuck to the room with the broken computer and an ominous message from an employee. That room was much better than this, much better than the sudden fear of being shot. Or bullet-ridden and alive. Somehow, that was far worse.

you desperately wished you were as good at being sneaky, but that was a complete and total lost cause. The turrets were pointed in different directions, covering each wall in line-of-sight. Wheatley was fine on a management rail, getting to completely bypass the room, but you on the other hand were…Fucked, really.

” Inconvenient, isn’t it?” A voice rings out through the speakers, and you stuck close to the door, leaning your head back in frustration. That figures. “Of course, I could move them. They have no purpose in this room. Other than stopping bugs in the walls of my facility.” You could guess who She might be referring to, with that. “You’re the bug. I figure I might mention as much if you’re anything like her.” Well,that clears that right up. 

“The incinerator is operational now.” She speaks, and you frown to yourself. You couldn’t see for sure if there were any cameras in the room, the all-seeing-eye pointed on you for the moment, but you assumed there must be one. “But with one fixed thing, another breaks. A door malfunctioned. Not far from here, actually. I’m just about to teach it something, but…I figured I might check on the fly-on-the-wall. How are you, by the way?”

You’re understanding a reason Chell might not talk, as you don’t bother with honoring the question with a response, despite Her being fully aware that you were capable of intelligent response.

”Don’t be so negative.” She chides, almost friendly, if you could call it such. At the very least, not obviously aggressive. “You should be happy, I found a use for you beyond keeping a warm fire going.” You don’t ask, and don’t especially want to know what Her plan was with you. You’d much rather try to see how fast you could run through a room, to the other door, which held wide open, like an invite. “Humans do like company. I figured you might like to keep that in mind,if you were getting lonely.” 

You broke into a sprint across the room, making a bee-line for the door.

“Target acquired.”

”I see you.”

”There you are.”

which slams closed right behind you, leading to another set of rusted catwalks. Your heart pounds as you grunt, leaning backwards against the closed doors as you coughed. 

“Are you still there?”

”Searching..”

”Target Lost.”

You lean hesitantly against the catwalks as you start walking again, just to get away from the room with your head and heart still intact.

”I see.” She speaks up against “You share speed in common, under pressure. That is good to know.” Another beat passes as you walk just that much faster along the catwalks while she speaks “You know, the interesting thing is that as you are not on the testing track, I could tell you anything, talk for as long as I wish.” You’d almost stop walking, but think better of it. It’s likely what she wants you to do,anyways. “But I have better things to do, than to watch a fly. Meander along.”

There’s a click that rings out somewhere above your head, the speaker She was using cutting out and producing static for a moment, before shutting off into silence. 

Better to be the fly than the guinea pig, you remind yourself with a huff and you walk into the next room, which thankfully, was empty. Just blank and boring and just a little broke down. No turrets, no broken ominous computers, no weird numbers you didn’t get, nothing to read and nothing to see. Just boring.

You’re so glad it’s boring

”There you are! Was wondering how far back you might be” Well, a little less boring, certainly, but nothing you were worried about. “So, good news,” Wheatley chatters on as he watches you cross into the next room “We’re about to break her on out. And it is..Really good timing, actually. Fantastic timing, really. Couldn’t have done it better, really. So, a little update— She keeps going on about some surprise for her, and it is concerning me. Quite a bit, actually. So, Figured it out all myself, did a grand ol’ job, we’ll get some panels open in this next room and hit the ground running.”

You swear there’s something you’re missing. Something you’ve been too side-tracked by to remember.

”Oh—Well, then good. Good job”

”Huh?-oh well hm—thanks, thank you, very appreciated. Very proud of myself. Anyways, it is very good that you’re back because she is quick. Very much so. Very quick, I told her to hang on for five chambers, but I Don’t think she’ll be too ruffled to be getting out in three, right?”

”I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic.” You follow Wheatley right into the next room while he waves at you a little, signaling dramatically for you to be quiet.

”Hey, buddy!” Wheatley calls out in a rather roughly-done western accent to the woman in the room, who’d just taken quite the fall off of a hard-light bridge.  You could just barely see her through the space in the panels.She landed squarely on her feet, holding the Portal gun protectively between her hands as the lights cut out. Wheatley pushed open a few panels of the back walls, and called to her “I’m speaking in an accent, that is beyond her range of hearing.” Chell stares hard at the opened panels, debating something while she starts slowly walking towards the opened wall. ”I know I’m early, but we have to go..now. So just calmly approach my position, and let’s get out of here!”

You’d just thought of something neither of you had actually prepared for, something you’d forgotten to mention and was now far too late to bring up during a mass panicking escape plan. You knew vaguely what would break and what drops would happen, and you were still at a loss with the utter lack of long-fall boots. That was something you Should’ve asked about and maybe would’ve, if the robot in question weren’t a walking, talking ‘side-line’ machine.

Chell comes just another step closer towards the panels, and a voice rings out through the dim testing chamber “Metal ball, I CAN hear you.”

”RUN- I don’t need to do the voice— run!” The paneled wall opens fully, and Chell comes running out of it, sprinting past you on top of an activated hard-light bridge to the row of catwalks. On every area of the outside were rows of panel walls and tubes with weighted cubes flowing through them. You ran after her onto the hard-light bridge. It turns off as she starts running down a flight of stairs.

”Okay! Quick recap—“ Wheatley’s voice hardly cuts through the sound of adjusting walls and shuttering panels on every side while GLaDOS tries to keep up with the movement of two humans and a Core running through the back of her facility. “—We are escaping! Alright—that’s what’s happening now, we’re escaping— you’re doing great just keep running!” You Almost see his form roll by overhead, talking while Chell leads the way, only hurriedly throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure you were there as she ran through the catwalks, ducking under a pressurized tube. “Alright— quick word, about the future plan I have in store. We’re going to Shut down her turret production line,alright—turn off her neurotoxin— and then confront her.” Chell is Fast, much faster than you were, though you weren’t surprised what with the woman being loaded up on adrenal vapor was capable of. “Again though, for the moment–Run!”

“The Irony is you were almost at the last test.” a wall opens up, and though chell spares the barest of glances, her expression hardens and she turns tail to hop onto the hard light bridge as you follow her “Here it is. Why don’t you just do it? Trust me, it's an easier way out than whatever asinine plan your friends came up with.” GLaDOS’ voice rings overhead as Chell runs across the light-bridge. 

“Oh–what? How stupid does she think we are?”

You weren’t sure when it was coming,but when it did were you definitely going to be ready and prepared to fall and fall evenly–

The light-bridge vanishes under your feet. Chell lands squarely on the catwalk, which trembles under the sudden weight. On the positive note, you land on your feet,no obviously broken bones, but a shock of pain shoots right up to the knees as you seize up. Not good, not good at all, not in the least. Chell hesitates for less than a moment before she grabs your forearm before she takes off, keeping you side by side with her as she runs down the catwalks, unceremoniously dragging you with her without so much as another glance. Or a word, expectantly. 

She led you through the catwalks, onto a solid metal platform with tubes running through it that closed into a box as soon as she stepped fully into it.

“Searching..” 

“Woah- Hold on..we need to get you out of there–” 

Chell doesn’t waste time looking. She wastes no time picking up one of the turrets with the portal gun, and it wails at her “Who ARE you? Put me down!” Before she throws it at the other with a small grunt. The two turrets burst into wails and gunfire after being knocked over. 

“I heard gunfire! A little late for this, but watch out for gunfire! Probably–Probably doesn’t help at this point, but I have at least tried.”

Chell glances around herself, shooting one portal at a white wall in the box, and another through a gap in the paneled walls. 

“I don’t hate you..”

She pulls you along through the portal without a second thought, tumbling through onto another set of catwalks. Around another dark corner and up another set of stairs, Chell doesn’t even look as she shoots a set of portals, sending a set of two turrets tumbling through the same set of portals repeatedly, faster and faster. She led you through a set of heavy metal doors that tried not opening before she rushed through.

Speed under pressure, She had said, and you couldn’t help but agree. Chell was much too fast, and much too smart to stop and look around herself as she ran on pure adrenaline..and a ridiculous amount of spite, you’d bet. She dragged you into an open spaced room that was peaceful for a moment.

Until the metal started tearing and ‘screaming’ as it was moved.

“She’s bringing the whole place down! This way! Hurry,Hurry get over here–” You could just barely make out the yelling over all the harsh screeching of metal as two testing tracks on opposite sides of the empty space were pulled towards the catwalks at a rather alarming speed. As panels hit a set of stairs, the catwalks broke apart and rattled as Chell ran with you in tow. You don’t speak as she drags you along, far too busy trying to breathe and trying to ignore everything colliding and falling and smashing together right over your head.

“Get in the lift! Get in!” Chell didn’t need to be told at all, she rushed through the catwalks, narrowing avoiding the catwalk breaking under her feet as she ran into the elevator, and its metal bars shut behind you and here.

“Ohhh…we made it we made it we made it,” you could hear Wheatley’s voice faintly in the distance as the elevator began to rise. “Look, I’ll meet you on the other-side!”

 Chell looks around herself with a furrowed brow. Trapped in on all sides by yellowed walls, and you grunt as you lean against part of the elevator. She didn’t seem all that pleased to be in a confined space..again. 

“God..This sucks.” you’re not even speaking to her. Just to the open air, but Chell’s head tilts, and she stares at you. Then, she gestures to your leg “Oh? No–it’s,it’s fine. No big deal.” She raises a brow, apparently unconvinced. You find yourself tapping your fingers against the bars of the elevator, wondering just how long this was going to take “Really, it’s no big deal. Nothing broken.” which doesn’t negate the fact that Chell had to pull you along with her to actually make it to the elevator in record time..which she clearly conveys her disbelief in you.

“Look, I’ll ask him if he can find boots for me. Would that make it better?” and subtly, Chell nods. You don’t see the point in her caring. Regardless, she’d be fine, and she doesn’t even need you to be fine in all this.

Except for the fact you’re the only other human she’s seen in quite some time. That…makes more sense for why she might want to keep you around.

“..Alright fine, i’ll ask.”

[punkcupcakestyles]

Love Song

Part 16

Catch up!

In which one of them says the “L” word.

TW: Hi, this chapter contains references to DV. If you don’t feel like reading it, that's fine, your wellbeing is a priority. However, if you would like to read some of this new chapter, you can skip it, as references are only made in the first part directly under the “read more”, which is marked with a ++++ for you. Once that bracket ends, it is TW-free. 

****

Are Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh a thing?

Surely, you must be asking this yourself…

++++

Harry was still asleep when I woke up. He was sleeping on his belly, with his back turned to me, and I scooted closer to him, brushing my fingers over the light red marks I had left on his skin. So, last night had happened, and those marks were there to prove it. 

I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling, trying to come up with all of the ways I was different that morning. We had sex, which was new, and then took a shower together and fell asleep in the middle of kisses and giddy laughs, which wasn’t so new. My body was the same, except for the slight pain on one side of my hips, and the ticklish memory of Harry’s lips on my skin. My mind was fluttery and anxious, but that wasn’t Harry’s fault.

It was mine.

One thing was different: Harry knew.

What had happened last night? I was desperate for Harry to stay. I felt like my heart would break irreparably if he walked away. A desperate, exaggerated feeling, no doubt, but it felt so real at that moment, so overwhelmingly true, that nothing else mattered. So I told him about my mom and my aunt, about my family. I had told him I needed a hiding place…

What comes next?

Harry rustled in his sleep and I found myself holding my breath before I could even realize, watching as he turned to lie on his back. It seemed like he was going to wake up at any minute now, and I still hadn’t chosen the feeling I should focus on. 

On one hand, I felt excited and giddy, the memory of the previous night vividly replaying in my mind. Last night, he was mine, he had stayed and I had slept in his arms; I also felt guilty and ashamed, tied up to a story I hadn’t chosen for myself. 

If I closed my eyes, I could see him, moving in all of his fury. I could hear the screams and the lies. I could never shake away the feeling that it was all my fault. I should have done something earlier. 

“Fuck,” I moaned, already feeling the ghosts as they circled me. I could see him, blazing up like a pure fire that wanted to burn everything that it could find. I could see her, making herself small, waiting for whatever was coming her way. Neither of them could see me. 

“Sof?” I heard Harry’s voice, but it sounded far away, more like a whisper making its way through a tangle of darkness. If I searched for it, if I reached for it…Harry looped one arm around my waist, and he must have thought that I was having a nightmare, cause he let his body wrap around mine to keep me warm and close. Safe. “It’s ok,” he whispered and I could hear his voice clearer now, even if it was sleepy. “I’m here, baby.”

I think he did it out of reflex, because his eyelids were still heavy with sleep, struggling to open, even when it was still dark around us. I quickly turned around, burying my face onto the crook of his neck and smiling when his hug became tighter and his fingers tangled in my knotty hair. 

He still smelled fresh from the shower and his skin was cold to the touch, so I sighed as I kissed his shoulder and neck, and I felt comfort when his lips met mine in a lazy, soft kiss.  

“Were you having a bad dream?” He asked, once sleep had faded away. I could see the outline of his face and could feel the touch of his fingers as he brushed them up my waist and to my back. It was soothing, but the ache was still there, bringing me down and suffocating me. 

“No,” I said with a raspy voice that I could barely recognize as mine. I cleared my throat and blinked away the tears that were brimming my eyes so he wouldn’t notice them. “I was awake. Sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s ok.” I could hear the smile in his voice, which was tinted with a sweet hint that settled underneath my skin and made me feel warm, my own heart forgetting about rhythm and beating. “Are you ok?”

“Now that you’re awake, I am.”

“Good, baby. I’m here for you,” Harry whispered. He brushed his lips over my forehead and pressed a soft kiss there, one that told me more than words could. “Wanna tell me what happened? You were so tense.”

“H..." I hesitated. How did I explain it to him? How did I tell him what I had done? That I didn't regret it? “Do you really want to know?” I asked him. I pushed myself away from him, rolling away from his arms to sit on the bed. He did the same, sitting by my side as he propped himself up on the pillows. This wasn’t how I imagined the morning after, and I bet it wasn’t like he had imagined it either.

“Yes!” He said, which was exactly the answer I was dreading. “You don’t have to, Sof, but you can always tell me if something’s upsetting you.”

“I...I didn’t want you to go yesterday. I wanted you to stay,” I said, trying to earn myself some time to articulate my thoughts. “So I told you some things that I’ve never said to anyone before. And I’m feeling guilty and afraid of what you might think.”

“Ok,” he said, which was not nearly enough, but it prompted me to continue. 

“And I feel the desperate need to tell you that my dad wasn’t always bad, that I had a pony, and on Fridays, I could eat way too much sugar. I don’t want you to think…” I stopped because I needed to gulp back my tears. My mom and I, we’re strong people.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t want you to think any different about me.”

“Why would I, Sof?” Why would he? Because I kept telling myself that I did what I had to do, but I’m lying. At that moment, all I felt was rage, not survival. I wanted to hurt him, make him suffer for what he had done, even if just a bit. I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t. “C’mere,” Harry said, and his fingers found mine and squeezed them lightly as he laced them together. So I obeyed and breathed him in as he pulled me into a tight hug. “You’re safe, I promise.”

“I know.”

“Good,” he breathed and his body noticeably relaxed, even though I don’t think either of us even had realized he was holding his breath in. 

If anything, it made the butterflies in my tummy rise and flutter. 

****

Kacey Musgraves and Harry Styles reunited yesterday, on the last date of her Oh, What a World: Tour II, to sing “Space Cowboy” from her hit album Golden Hour. The heartfelt performance was received with cheers from the audience. At the end of the song, Styles praised her former tour partner, calling her one of his favorites. It was a breathtaking moment.

Eagle-eyed fans, however, also noticed a special guest that was not announced, and that tried to blend in with the crowd: Styles’ on-and-off rumored girlfriend Sofia Welsh-De la Rosa was seen in the crowd during the duet performance, along with her agent and some friends. Does this mean a confirmation of the romance? Not quite, as she stayed to enjoy the concert even after he left the stage and was nowhere to be seen during the closing party. Was it just a coincidence? Is Welsh a stalker? Fans have been weighing in on Twitter, but the question remains: If Sofia Welsh gets ghosted, what hope do I have? Below you’ll find some of the most relatable comments…

****

It all started innocently, sitting next to him on the couch to cuddle while he reviewed the plan for his next single. It was all laid out in an e-mail, with wardrobe ideas and stage mockups. A glimpse of his screen was enough to catch my attention, as I saw what looked like a fisherman island and a couple of lively-looking fishes. 

“What’s the song about?” I asked him, peering up at him as my head rested on his shoulder. I had to ask, there were fish involved!

“Well...you. It’s about you.” Harry smiled and I saw him blush a little while he avoided looking me in the eyes.

“No, really, tell me!”

“It’s about you, Sof. What makes you think I’m joking?”

“Why would you write a song about me? Is it about how annoying I am?” I grinned and I propped myself up with one hand, so I could look him in the eyes while we talked. It was funny, ‘cause I knew about the song, he had told me the night of our date, which seemed like ages ago. But now, my brain was going into overdrive, and I stared at him as he leaned closer and let his lips brush over a kiss over my forehead. 

“It’s about how much I like you,” he said, and this time, he met my eyes while I stared at him stupidly. 

“Is that the surprise you told me about? I would’ve thought you had pulled it from the album after everything that’s happened these last few weeks.”

“I did try, but Jeff told me to go fuck myself.” I didn’t know if he was joking. The quick smile on his lips disappeared as Harry looked at me. “And I wrote them for you, it’s only fair you get to listen to them.”

“Can I? Listen to it, I mean...” 

“As long as you don’t tell Jeff to pull it from the album, I think we can do that.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The few seconds he took to look for the song seemed like an eternity, that I spent with my heart pounding in my ears and my eyes fixed on his phone screen. There were tons of songs there, and while some had a proper title, most were named with just a word or a date. I watched him go to a list called FL, and there, he scrolled down to the bottom, before pressing play on a song named “Adore You”. 

As the first few notes started to play, I went quiet and let Harry pull me into a cuddle. Once again, I was lying next to him, with my head resting on his chest, and I could feel the steadiness of his heart, and the warm touch of his fingers as they pressed to my waist. 

“Walk in your rainbow paradise…”

His voice was rich and soothing and it made my heartache in a way I didn’t know it was capable of. I listened to it, focusing on the words and the melody. I wanted to decipher every bit of it, every intention, every hint, tear it apart, and build it up again second by second. 

Harry was smiling when I looked at him, almost shyly and apologetically, like telling me how sorry he was for putting me in the spotlight. 

But I loved it. 

“Play it again”, I whispered when the song came to an end, as I looked up at him. Harry smiled in satisfaction, a little cocky grin, as he put the song on repeat. He then shifted on the couch, sitting up so I could straddle him. His hands went to my back and held my waist as mine looped around his shoulders.

“Did you like it?” Harry managed to ask between my kisses, lips pressing softly to his own, his cheek, his jaw, his nose. 

“I did. I loved it,” I giggled as I looked for his neck to kiss him there. I wondered how many times we would listen to the song before I was satisfied. Many, I had to guess. 

“Good…” Harry smiled and broke the kiss apart to look at me in the eyes. “I love you, Sof.”

I froze, stopping my frantic mission to kiss every available inch of his body, and I slowly brought my hands to my lap, as I looked at him, forgetting how to breathe. 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Harry breathed with a light laugh. “I know you have feelings for Sam, so it’s ok if you have to think about it. I just wanted to let you know… I’m yours if you want me, Sof....and even if you don’t.”

“What…” I started, but words kept failing to form in my lips, just as much as they failed to organize coherently in my brain. There was so much I wanted to say, many things I could tell him, but instead, I pressed myself to him, hugging him tight to my body until our breaths mixed, and it wasn’t too clear whose heartbeat was louder. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok, Sof, you don’t have to say anything,” Harry whispered reassuringly, so I did the only thing I knew I could do, I kissed him. 

Right then, it was easy to see how everything had changed from the night before, or even a few minutes ago. Now his touch felt different, filled with the memories of the night before. He knew my body better than I did. It was his to explore, to taste, and touch, and he did so. Everything, including the kiss, was slow but intense, soft and sweet but so fucking hungry.  

“I love you, Sof.” I kept replaying it in my mind, with all of its letters, one by one. Like a gospel, a moment of prayer to calm the soul. 

Harry made his way down to my collarbones, and he trailed his kisses down to the valley of my chest, where he stopped, and let his fingers curl around the cups of my bra to push it down. The warmth on his breath rose goosebumps all over my skin and I moaned quietly as he wrapped his lips around my nipple and sucked on it. It felt so good, but still, anticipation was boiling in my tummy, demanding more. I wanted to feel his tongue, his warm breath, the drowned moans. I wanted them to echo down my body until I had no more choice but to cry out in pleasure. It was a delicious, bubbly feeling that clouded my mind, only leaving space for Harry.

I was so sensitive, all raw skin and prickly nerves, the slightest touch sent a shiver up my spine and made me arch my back and moan.

I was too aware of the light touch of his hand brushing down my stomach and sliding underneath my panties. I could see a flash of a smile before he went to pay attention to my other nipple, sucking harder on it as he grazed his finger around my clit. 

“Fuck,” I moaned, trying to relax as the sharp pain of my soreness took over my senses for just a second. But it didn’t escape Harry, who stopped right away to look at me with a worried glint in his eyes. 

“Are you sore, Sof?” He asked, and to my despair he pulled his hand away, placing it on my leg instead with a light squeeze. 

“A bit,” I said, almost apologetically. “But we can still do it.”

“It’s ok,” Harry smiled. “There’s no rush. We can just kiss.”

“We’re going back to L.A. tomorrow, and you’ll be off to London by the end of the week, so at least I’m in a rush. I’ve already wasted a lot of time.”

“So, what are you suggesting? That we should fuck non-stop now?”

“Yes!!” I laughed. “You should fuck me.”

“I want you to enjoy it,” Harry said and he hugged me closer to his chest. The sentiment was appreciated and I had no doubt he actually meant it, but that didn’t mean I had to make it easy for him. His tummy tightened as my fingers brushed over his tanned skin, the slight swell of his pecs, the muscles on his abs, and a low moan escaped his reluctant lips as I shifted on his lap, and rolled my hips for him. He was getting hard, maybe because of all of the feverish kisses we had shared, and I felt the sharp bite of his nails as they dug on the round of my ass. “So it feels good for you. It kinda hurts my ego if you don’t.” he smiled. His hands pressed tightly to my hips, stopping me from making any movement. “And I owe you one from last night.”

“I enjoyed last night, it was perfect.”

“Really?” Harry asked, his smiling lighting up his cute face when he looked at me. “I always thought our first time was gonna be fucking special, like a hotel in Paris looking at the tower, or something like that.”

“You thought about our first time?”

“I did, it got me through the nights,” he said. His touch had no urgency other than to feel me close and feel the warmth of my skin under the tips of his fingers. 

“Good to know I’m on your mind, then.”

“All the fucking time, didn’t you listen to the song?”

So engulfed we were in each other that we had missed the sound of the door opening or that of the soft steps that followed it.

“H, why did you change rooms? Listen, man, if I have to listen to Diana nag me because of you...oh, fuck! I’m sorry,” a male voice exclaimed, going from very confused and slightly annoyed to sincerely apologetic. I scrambled to the couch to cover myself with the pillows, while Harry remained seated, calmly looking at his friend. 

Jeff was holding what seemed like a bakery paper bag, and 4 tall coffees. He set them down on the little table in front of the couch and cleared his throat while he clearly avoided looking at me. Without saying a word, Harry stood up and walked to the room, and came back after he had dressed, and holding a shirt he offered to me. It only took him seconds, but it felt like an eternity, and Jeff and I were awkward enough to make it evident. 

“I thought you had left for L.A., Sof. Diana told me you did,” Jeff said, now that I had put on the shirt, and he was free to look at me. He sat down on one corner of the couch and picked up Harry’s phone to stop the music. The room felt too silent without it.

“I decided not to go.”

“Good,” he smiled. Both of us were looking at Harry, as he smiled at me. He was our only connection, after all, and I had a nagging feeling that Jeff did not like me all that much. “Does Diana know?”

“That I stayed?”

“With Harry, yeah,” Jeff pressed.

“I haven’t told her, no.”

“Ok, we might want to do that,” he smiled too kindly. I would have felt overwhelmed by the, how does the song go? Oh, yes, bad moon a-rising feeling of his words, but at that moment, Jeff leaned over the table and started fixing breakfast in front of us: buttery and flaky croissants, little pastries filled with chocolate and raspberries, cinnamon swirls and avocado and eggs toast. The sugary and buttery smell took over my well-intentioned anxiety. It kept me on top of things most of the time, never too surprised when things went wrong. 

“How many people did you invite for breakfast?” I asked him. 

“Well, Diana is coming. Yesterday she told me you were leaving and that you guys were probably moving on, so I told her to meet me this morning.”

“Moving on from what?” Harry asked his friend as he picked two croissants and offered me one. Mine had red stripes, so I guessed it must’ve had some kind of strawberry or raspberry filling. He picked a chocolate one for himself and set it apart on the table, grabbing a cup of coffee first. 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess, and say you, they’re moving on from you.”

The croissant was still warm and I held it in my hand like it was a war grenade, ready to blow off. Could I eat it? The short answer was no. The long answer was more complicated than that, but it also ended in a no. My tummy grumbled, it had been long since the last time I had really eaten or felt hungry, so it took me a couple of seconds to realize what was going on around me, like the fact that both Harry and Jeff were looking at me as if I was fucking crazy. Perhaps I was. 

“Are you having a meltdown over a croissant?” Harry asked, and the mocking hint that laced in his voice stung. Oh, he didn’t understand. 

“I’m on a diet, and I need to be because otherwise, they might not give me the role.”

“They already did, that’s why you’re training like a crazy person.”

“They can still say that I don’t look good in a latex suit, because who fucking does? And take the role away from me,” I tried explaining, as I leaned over the table to put the croissant down and pick a black coffee.

“They won’t,” Harry said as he picked it up back again and offered it to me. “I promise. You’re the queen right now, and everyone’s in love with you. And if they choose to take the role away from you, they’re assholes anyway,” he continued, with a sweet smile on his face. I took the napkin and leaned back on the couch as I took a bite out of the croissant.

“Good,” Jeff exclaimed, reminding us that we were not alone in the room. “Now, do we talk about Sofia wanting to move on, or do we just ignore it?”

“I, uh, I don’t want to move on.”

“Ok, so I’ll talk to Diana,” Jeff nodded. “I’ll do it soon, so you guys don’t have time to change your fucking minds.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” I smiled at him. He didn’t like me, oh, not at all, but he wasn’t doing it for me. So he shrugged, and took a pastry for himself, to eat it with his coffee. 

Maybe we had said Diana’s name too many times, because there she was, closing the door behind her. She couldn’t see me, but I saw her, with her green dress with white flowers on. She was holding a plastic bowl of fruit and a holder with 3 tall coffees and she walked into the room and towards us without noticing me. When she did, a frown etched between her brows, and her eyes danced from Harry to me.

“You didn’t leave. Good, we need to talk.” Diana said as if nothing could surprise her anymore. She walked to me and picked up the piece of croissants I had left in my hands and put them down on the table, before she sat down next to Jeff, with a bright, satisfied smile on her face. “You can’t eat that. Actually, we might need to go even more strict. Dior wants you for their new campaign and Rihanna is wondering if you’d like to model some underwear. I said yes to both.” She waited for the ovation. I could see that she was holding herself from clapping in excitement. But we all remained silent, and she slowly calmed herself down, looking at me as if I was the one that didn’t understand, which was a fair assumption; I didn’t understand. 

“It means people know you can sell, Sof. We can ask for more money. We can ask you to be one of the top earners in the Marvel Universe. The top earner in every other movie you make,” she said, giddily. “Now, Dior wants you to shoot their campaign with one of their most iconic dresses. It’s a size zero, and they’ll stretch it to a size two, a tight one. So, we need to cut down a bit.”

A bit. 

“Why don’t they just stretch it a little more?” Harry asked. 

“Because it’s an iconic dress, I just said it, Harry,” Diana snapped. 

“That’s bullshit, Diana,” Harry said, and even though he was smiling, there was a hint of anger in his voice. He was annoyed and he didn’t feel like hiding it. 

“Oh, you think you know what us women…”

I couldn’t take it. I knew I should have said something, perhaps side with Harry and tell Diana that I wasn’t interested, but it was all too much. So I did what I know how to do best: I got up and left, walking to my room to hide from both of them and closing the door behind me. I sat on the corner of the bed and let out a shaky sigh. I wasn’t alone for too long. Harry entered the room and he cautiously walked to me and sat down by my side. The bed wobbled a little and I looked at him for a second before going back to look down to the floor.  

“Are you ok, love?” He asked. 

“I just started having sex,” I said. 

“I am aware,” he replied. 

“So, all of this talk about my body...it fucking sucks, especially because you’re there and you can listen to all of it, and…”

“And what?”

“Realize I don’t look good in a catsuit.”

“Do you want to see me in a catsuit? I don’t think I’d look good either,” He offered, and I laughed, despite everything, because that was the thing about Harry, he made everything better. 

“Would you put on a catsuit for me?” 

“I’d do anything for you, Sof...Come with me to London, let’s forget about this whole thing.”

“I can’t, H. I have to train and follow this diet, and be camera ready.”

“I promise I’ll keep you busy,” he said.

“Yeah? How?”

He did exactly what I expected him to do, he kissed me, his fingers pressing softly to the back of my neck, while his tongue swept my bottom lip. It was a lavish kiss, slow and intense. It made me forget that there were people in the other room, and to shift on the bed until I was sitting on his lap, with my legs on each side of his body. His hands started their journey on the upper part of my back, under my shirt, and he ran the tip of his fingers down the length of my spine. Every inch of skin he touched set on fire and reminded me how alive I was and all that I was capable of feeling because of him. 

“Please,” I muttered against his lips as his fingers got to the round of my ass, and he dug them and kneaded on my skin. 

“Please what?” He smiled. 

“Please whatever you want…”

“You need me, baby?”

“I need you, I want you…”

“Can you be quiet for me?” 

“Yes, I can try. Please.”

****

The plot thickens: Harry Styles and Sofia Welsh were seen leaving his hotel in Nashville together, where the singer was staying after he performed in Kacey Musgraves’ concert. The stars, who haven’t confirmed the status of their relationship, went out to grab lunch with a group of friends, including Musgraves herself, and then left for the airport together. 

This outing comes as a disappointment for Logan Lerman fans, who have started shipping him with the actress, as they are both set to work together in Amazon’s new show...

[hotchley]

mortch having a girl, specifically hotch coming home after a bad case to see derek-with glasses ofc- holding their babygirl while reading hotch’s high school play script

Grace I am in love with your brain and I need you to write this properly, but for now, enjoy this little drabble... thing whatever, we’re going with it (and I hope you liked the other mortch headcanons!!) 

the best thing they ever did

I don’t know what else to call it and all of the songs I’ve been listening to are sad and look... either of them with a daughter is just the best thing and yeah so please be gentle

Also where in canon is this? Fuck if I know, Tara and Luke are on the team but Derek left and Jack is a teen and Hotch is retiring in a few months and like Mr Scratch the episode did happen but not the shit after?? but that’s not that important just go with it 

read on ao3! (I cannot believe I am doing this)

tw: vague crimes against children, the slightest implication of child abuse

Cases with children were always hard. But cases with children, when he had two at home and Derek wasn’t there to ground him or make everything better by simply holding his hand and drawing circles were awful.

So awful that he just wanted to bury his head in the lumpy pillow at the hotel and scream. He missed feeling Derek’s arms around him as he slept, and he missed falling asleep on his shoulder, and he missed the scent of his shower gel.

He just missed Derek. And Jack. And their little girl. He couldn’t believe he had a daughter. He had always wanted to give Jack a little sibling, but his own failures had meant that never happened.

Until it did. Just in a completely different way to what he was expecting. He lost Haley to George Foyet, yes, but he gained a new family that he thought he would never find. And he knew Haley, wherever she was, was at peace, watching over him and the loves of his life with pride and happiness.

In the end, they saved the children. Their lives would never be the same and this would stay with them forever, but they would, with the right support, recover and flourish.

He used to tell the team that saving a victim was the best thing they could do because he needed them to carry on having faith in what they did and not start doubting whether or not they made a difference because they did.

But he too had wondered whether or not it was worth it. When he thought of everything Foyet had put him through, had his life really been worth saving?

And then he saw Jack. Jack who would always miss his mother and the person she had been to him, the woman he remembered, but Jack that looked at Derek and called him Papa without feeling guilty. Jack that sometimes got angry and threw tantrums but was every bit the boy Haley had raised.

And he knew that it was all worth it. As he thought of Derek- good and kind and beautiful Derek that had stuck with him through everything and held him after Mr Scratch had forced him to see his family die- he smiled. 

Derek Morgan was the best man he knew. And every single day, every single moment, he considered himself lucky to call him his husband. He knew how difficult it was for Derek to wave goodbye each morning, knowing first-hand the horrors of the job. But Aaron only had to do a few more months before the Bureau would give him his pension.

And when that day came, he was going to retire and join Derek at the local community college, where they would teach the next generation of lawyers. Together. Like they were meant to. Because even before they had fallen in love- unwillingly and resentfully realised that actually, they did care about each other a lot- they had been partners.

But before then, he would carry on with the BAU, writing reports until his eyes started to hurt and he has to fight back tears every time he looks at the photos. This time though, his desk was suspiciously void of paperwork that wasn’t absolutely essential to the case.

When he looked into the bullpen, Emily and Luke’s piles seemed significantly bigger. Tara and Spencer also had larger piles, but those were decreasing at an incredibly fast rate. 

He smiled to himself and pulled his phone out to text Derek that he would be home sooner than expected. But as he gazed at his lock screen- subconsciously counting down the days till he could change it to the family photo- he decided he would surprise them instead.

With the knowledge that he would soon be home and in the arms of his loved one, the paperwork was slightly more bearable. It was still brutal and heartbreaking and he kept needing to pause to stop himself from sobbing, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

Derek’s presence had always been more than a light, but still.

He finished before anyone else of the team, but he didn’t feel guilty leaving. They didn’t need him to hold their hands anymore. They hadn’t for a while, but Derek’s departure after the birth of their daughter- their beautiful daughter- had driven the point home.

It was why he was going to be able to leave without any regrets.

It was dark when he unlocked the front door to their home. Home. He thought he had lost that after Haley left. He never thought he would find it in Derek, but he would never stop feeling grateful that he got a second chance at a family. A second chance at being happy.

All the lights downstairs were off, so he assumed they had all gone to sleep. He checked Jack’s room and saw that he was peacefully asleep. Maybe it was the case, or the nostalgia that came with leaving, or maybe he was just a better man than his father was, but the sight of him sleeping without stirring or being haunted by nightmares bought on a wave of emotion so overwhelming he had to hold the door handle.

With every passing day, Jack looked more and more like his mother. Once upon a time, it would’ve been like a dagger to Aaron’s heart, but now it just made him smile with a fondness he hadn’t realised he was capable of.

Even though Jack wasn’t a child anymore- he was almost as tall as Hotch- he still found himself quietly entering to press a soft kiss to his forehead. He closed the door properly as he left, knowing his son would appreciate the thought in the morning.

The door to the nursery was also closed. Either she was sleeping, or Derek was still awake with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was the second. Derek loved their daughter the way he did everything in his life: with passion, the utmost care and his entire soul.

He hesitated in the doorway of their bedroom, wanting to enjoy the sight for just a moment.

Derek, in nothing but a thin t-shirt and pair of shorts, clearly ready for bed, and glasses that he somewhat resented wearing because it reminded him that he was getting older, holding their daughter in his arms. He held her like she was the world.

And in some ways, she was.

Aaron smiled at the two of them. And then he heard what Derek was saying.

The book in front of him was not the storybook Haley had bought Jack when he was a baby. Nor was it one of the many gifts they’d received from the team.

It was the script for the Pirates of Penzance. The same one Hotch had scribbled his notes all over, so he would know exactly where he was meant to stand and when he was meant to enter and leave. He wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Theatre had been the start of his and Haley’s love story. He loved that Derek was so willing to celebrate it.

“I hope you’re doing the voices right,” he quipped, as Derek started to recite the first of Pirate Number Four’s two lines.

Derek turned and Aaron was still so taken aback by how stunning he was that whatever he was going to say died on his lips. He smiled slightly, trying to not give away how much the case had affected him.

“I thought you could use something good today. Em told me what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Not today. Tomorrow he would, but tonight he was going to love his daughter and fall asleep in Derek’s arms. So he shook his head and went over to the two of them.

His daughter babbled and smiled at him, wrapping her little hand around his finger.

“Hello darling,” he cooed. “Did Papa make you stay up for me? Or did you do that yourself?”

Derek laughed, a joyous and warming sound. “She did that herself. In fact, she almost woke Jack up with her screaming. I think she knew her daddy would be home today. Didn’t you?”

Aaron smiled as she carried on smiling at the two of them. “Thank you for staying up. I know I’m back earlier than usual, but it’s still late.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Derek said, still rocking the baby in his arms. She was a beautiful baby. And one day, she would be an amazing, strong and vulnerable woman. But for now, she was his little girl.

“I know. But I want to,” Aaron said in response. “Did she really almost wake up Jack?”

“Yep. She wanted to be held, and then I thought I would read to her, and I remember getting this out for Jack earlier. It just felt right. Haley had so many lines, how she remembered all of them is beyond me.”

“She was ethereal on that stage,” he said. But thinking of Haley didn’t hurt now. It hadn’t for a while. JJ had been right. He was happy.

“I’m going to change out of this suit,” he said, after a few moments of silence passed. Derek nodded, not even moving to put her back in her crib. When Aaron returned wearing Derek’s old pyjamas, he was still rocking her gently.

“You’ve never looked quite so beautiful as you do when you hold her,” he confessed quietly.

Derek smiled, passing her over. “And you never look as relaxed as you do when she’s in your arms.”

He laughed, then responded with: “Gas.”

Derek rolled his eyes in that fond way he always did, but he laughed along nonetheless. And when Aaron’s eyes started to droop, he took the now sleeping baby from his arms and went to the nursey.

As he set her down, he brushed his lips across her forehead, wishing her a peaceful sleep. 

“Goodnight, Penelope Haley Hotchner-Morgan. Have the sweetest dreams,” he said, leaving the door slightly open so some of the light could get in.

Aaron had fallen asleep in the few minutes he had been gone for, on top of the duvet and with his feet dangling off the end of the bed. Derek smiled at his sleeping figure from the door, wondering how anyone could look so sweet as they slept.

Derek moved him to be under the covers, having done it enough times to know how to do it without waking him up. When Aaron’s breathing remained even, he breathed a sigh of relief and climbed in on the other side.

As if he just knew, Aaron rolled over, burying his head in Derek’s neck as he wrapped his arms around his husband, feeling like home was perfect once more.

[rejectofsociety]

Febuwhump: Day Twenty

Prompt: Betrayal

Summary: Peter and Quentin have always worked so, so hard for Tony and Stark Industries. They just wish he was more appreciative. — not your typical tale of betrayal 

Word Count: 2570

Warnings: not for IronDad lovers

Written for: @febuwhump 

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

Peter scrolled through the endless lines of code, his reddened and exhausted eyes struggling to stay open as he squinted at the screen. He was dizzy and lightheaded, his stomach growled hungrily, and his back was aching horribly. Frustration fogged up his head and his jaw was painfully tense— he hadn’t moved since becoming obsessed with the task at hand the day before.

“You’re still here?” Quentin spoke from behind him, “I thought you went home.”

Peter tore his eyes away from the screen and looked at his work partner, “I was gonna go home, but I can’t find the bug in the code. Something’s glitching real bad.”

Quentin sighed and rested his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “take a break and let me take a look.”

“No, I got it,” Peter assured.

“Peter, that’s an order,” he stated.

Peter heaved a sigh then nodded, “thank you, Quentin.”

“Anytime. You can take a nap on the couch if you want.”

He bobbed his head again then stood up wearily, Quentin taking his place at the desk.

The two had been working tirelessly to get their holographic technology done by its due date. It needed to be tested countless times and given the “stamp of approval” before it could be presented to the public. Their boss, Tony, checked in from time to time, always checking their progress and adding to their lengthy to-do list. Quentin had been working on the project since he first earned his Stark Industries internship at a surprisingly young age and had dreamed about it even longer. He was the mastermind behind the whole operation and Peter had started tagging along a few years ago when he gained his internship. Like Quentin, he had been rather young when he became an intern which may have been one of the reasons the two got along so well— they had a lot in common, including being under appreciated by their boss.

“Hey, get up,” Tony barked, making Peter jolt awake. Then he looked back at Quentin, “do you seriously let him sleep on the job?”

“He hasn’t slept in-“

“It was my fault, sir,” Peter groggily interrupted, “I’ve been slacking lately.”

“Get some coffee and get back to work,” Tony ordered.

“Yessir,” Peter sighed and stood up.

Tony eyed Peter for a moment and frowned, “kid, you look like trash, everything okay?”

I’m overworked, underpaid, and you’re my boss— nothing is okay, Peter thought bitterly but forced himself to smile slightly, “everything’s fine, Mister Stark. Just a little tired.”

With that, he quickly left Quentin’s lab with his head down as he mentally cursed himself for getting caught napping. That was an easy way to lose his job.

Peter pulled out his phone as he waited for his coffee to be ready. There were three texts awaiting his attention: one from Ned, one from Aunt May, and one from Michelle.

-

May: I know your work is important, but don’t forget to take care of yourself ❤️

Ned: are we still on for lunch today?

MJ: where are you?

-

Peter sighed softly, texted his reassurance to May, regretfully canceled his plans with Ned, then clicked on Michelle’s contact and called her. If he remembered her schedule properly, she didn’t have any classes at the moment and wouldn’t have any for the next forty to thirty minutes.

“Peter, you bailed on our date,” Michelle stated when she picked up the phone, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I-“

“You would’ve been at the restaurant if nothing’s wrong.”

“I had to stay late at work, there was a bug in the system and-“ he sighed heavily, “baby, I’m so sorry I missed our date, I was really looking forward to it. But Quentin and I are so, so close to finishing this project, it’s driving my fucking crazy.”

“You two have been working on that one ever since I met you,” Michelle observed, “can I see it when you finish?”

“Yes!” Peter agreed excitedly, “I would love for you to see it. Ned and May can come too.”

“That’d be nice... are we ever going to reschedule that date or...”

“Um,” he tapped his toes thoughtfully, “we’ll probably have to wait until Quentin and I finish this up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she hesitated before continuing, “I gotta go. Call me later?”

“First chance I get.”

“Good. I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Peter sighed and hung up. Both he and Quentin had been pouring their hearts and souls into this invention, neglecting relationships with friends, family, and partners in the process. It would be worth it in the end, it had to be worth it.

Before pocketing his phone, Peter caught a glimpse at a text from Quentin.

-

Quentin: make sure to get something to eat. I don’t think you ate anything yesterday

-

Peter smiled softly then looked up when his name was called for the order: an espresso for himself and an iced coffee for Quentin. He hadn’t asked for coffee, but he knew him well enough that he would love an iced coffee right about now.

“Is that all, sir?” The barista asked.

“Two bagels would be nice, please,” Peter requested.

“Plain?”

“Yes please.”

“Alright—“ she fetched two bagels for him, “—here you go.”

He thanked her briefly then hurried back to Quentin’s lab. Guilt towards missing his date with Michelle made his stomach twist into awkward knots. I’m not doing that again, Peter mentally promised, I have to finish this soon. It’s not fair to MJ or Ned that I keep having to cancel plans with them to work on this. But I feel like we’re so close! And they were, they were so painfully close to finishing this project they could practically feel victory brushing their fingertips. What would really make the experience whole was when Tony presented the Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing to the world which would stare in awe at the invention. They would look up at it and know that Quentin and Peter made that— it was theirs and now they finally got to share it with the world.

“Did you find the bug?” Peter asked as he arrived at Quentin’s side and set the coffee and bagel down next to him.

“Thank you,” Quentin briefly took a sip of the coffee before answering, “there wasn’t actually a bug.”

“Wait- what? How? I-“

“It was a missing line of code,” he explained then tapped the screen with one finger, “right here.”

“Oh, geez,” he rubbed his eyes with one hand, “I feel like an idiot now.”

“Don’t. No one is capable of functioning properly when they’re dehydrated, hungry, and running on an hour of sleep,” he assured, “now take a seat, please.”

Peter pulled up a chair next to Quentin and took a sip of espresso. The two got right to work with perfecting their creation.

Peter was undoubtedly the best work partner Quentin could have possibly asked for. He was obedient, freakishly smart, observant, he could go on forever with praises to be honest but, most importantly, the boy was always willing to learn and take criticism. That alone was the one reason Quentin allowed Peter anywhere near their project. He had originally planned to lone it and was actually pissed off when Tony introduced the young intern to him as a work partner, but Peter quickly proved himself and Quentin was more than happy to take him under his wing.

Years later, here they were— not just colleagues, but close friends who would work until their dying breath to finish their damned project.

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

Many months later, the day had finally come. Quentin and Peter’s project that had eaten up the past several years of their lives was now about to be presented by Tony Stark himself. The two inventors were practically trembling with excitement backstage as Tony’s presentation began.

Pride and joy swelled up inside Peter’s chest as he took in the beauty of the Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. Six years of missed dates, skipped meals, broken promises, and neglecting self-care all for this creation which was now magnificently brought to life. It was almost like watching a child walk for the first time or speak its first words. And how could he forget the reaction of his loved ones! The way their eyes sparkled like diamonds with wonder and awe while May hugged and praised her niece, and Peter had implored that Quentin got all the credit as Quentin insisted he couldn’t have done it without his trusty partner, and Ned had fangirled for minutes on end before he could even properly spit out a coherent sentence, and Michelle beamed at her boyfriend with undeniable delight in her eyes. Peter wished he could have shown the entire world how joyous and full of wonder his girlfriend was in that moment. She had never seen anything that even remotely resembled his and Quentin’s hard work— no one had! It was completely knew to the world. Even Tony had praised the two! And now here Peter was, backstage with Quentin by his side as the students of MIT were seconds away from being the first public audience to set eyes on their glorious project.

Peter had been so caught up in the euphoria of his thoughts, that he had momentarily gone blind to the world around him. But, when he awoke, time seemed to be halted by four little words leaving Tony��s mouth as he enchanted the student audience.

“... my little therapeutic experiment...”

Peter seemed to jolt to life at those words, and not in a pleasant way. For a moment, he was certain he had imagined the statement.

“Quentin—“ Peter looked at his partner, who’s jaw was tight as he scowled at Tony, “—did... did he just call our project his ‘little therapeutic experiment,’ or have I completely lost my shit?”

“Oh, he said that alright,” Quentin replied, hardly seeming to process the moment himself, “and he named it B.A.R.F.”

Peter tore his eyes away and stared at the ground as he processed the moment. Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did- no. No, this was a perfectly justifiable sense of betrayal. Because with four little words, Tony had swiped Peter’s greatest accomplishment right out of his hands. The billionaire had claimed Peter and Quentin’s life’s work and belittled it into something as simple and insignificant as a little therapeutic experiment.

For the rest of the brief presentation, Peter strained his ears and silently begged to hear his and Quentin’s names— Quentin’s at least. He needed anything at all just to acknowledge that Quentin Beck and Peter Parker were the inventors of the masterpiece that Tony presented as if it were his own. But, no! Tony ended his presentation and was met with thunderous applause while never having said their names once— it was as if he had completely forgotten about their existence.

“Let’s go, Peter,” Quentin hissed as he whirled around.

Peter didn’t bother commenting and followed his mentor, both equally matched in anger. No one seemed to notice the two inventors as they stormed out of the facility, their heads fogged with fury. The moment they were out the exit, Peter practically exploded.

“He didn’t say your name once! Not once!” He cried, “did he forget?!”

“No, he doesn’t care,” Quentin snapped as he got into the driver’s seat of his car and Peter joined him in the passenger’s seat, “to Tony, we’re just the elves in his toy shop. He doesn’t give a shit about us.”

Peter huffed, his entire body hot and rushing with anger, “this isn’t over, Quentin. Tomorrow we’re gonna shred his ass for this.”

“Why tomorrow?” Quentin asked as he drove away, “why not today? We have time.”

“Because today, I need two things: a drink and a designated driver.”

Quentin nodded and started on a route to the nearest bar, “I think you got the right idea, kid.”

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

“Whatever you two want, make it quick,” Tony demanded tiredly the next day when his two employees stood in his office. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.”

“I just wanted to say you gave a pretty great presentation yesterday,” Quentin began passively while Peter stood like a stern statue at his side. “Except... I think you might have forgotten something.”

Tony furrowed his brow, “I don’t think- what did I forget?”

Quentin rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly with a harsh glower, “the mother fuckers who made it possible.”

Tony stood up and took a step back, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Peter and I made that Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing technology,” he clarified, disgusted that Tony seemed so confused, “and you didn’t even bother to mention us. You called it your experiment!”

“And?”

“And it’s not! It’s not yours. It’s ours— Quentin and Peter’s— life work. I have been busting my ass off since day one for this! And the night you present it to the world, you forget my fucking name!” Quentin barked.

“What do you want me to do?!” Tony shot back, rapidly growing defensive.

“I want my tech to be branded with my name. Not yours! You get all the recognition you could ever want— not because you’ve worked for it, but because you have the money for it! Have you ever once thought about the people like Peter and I? We work our asses off, we neglect relationships, we go days without sleep, we break our promises, we fucking ruin ourselves for year! Years, Tony! And our names never see the light of day!” He ranted, “don’t you think we deserve at least and ounce of respect and recognition?”

Tony was quiet a moment, glaring a stone cold glare into Quentin’s furious gaze. Peter stared hostilely at his boss, never once moving or interjecting— Quentin had taken the words right out of his mouth.

“And what about you, kid,” Tony inquired, “what do you think?”

“With all disrespect,” he said, “I completely agree with him. You don’t give a flying fuck about us and we’re sick of it.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He had too much on his hands to deal with two upset employees at the moment.

“You’re both incredibly unstable,” he declared, “you’re fired.”

“What?” Peter and Quentin spoke in unison.

“You heard me,” he repeated impatiently, “you’re fired. Both of you get your shit out of your lab and get out!”

Peter actually managed an amused smirk and bitter laugh, “gladly. Let’s go, Quentin.”

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

“Man, I’m pissed that he fired us,” Peter said a while later as the two lounged in Quentin’s living room, “but it was so satisfying to hear you yell at him, I almost don’t care. At least not right now.”

Quentin smiled slightly and took a sip of beer, “at least you can focus on your girlfriend now.”

Peter nodded, “yeah...” his voice trailed off then his eyes lit up, “Quentin, Tony hit us hard and where it hurt— he honestly betrayed what little trust we gave him. And I wanna hit him back, and I wanna hit him hard.”

This caught Quentin’s attention and he sat up and leaned forward, “absolutely.”

The two went quiet and their minds raced with one idea after another, their thirst for revenge driving their every move. Peter wrung his hands together and bounced his knee as he came up with lists of possibilities.

For the past several hours, since having their tech swept away from them, the two had been simultaneously furious and depressed with defeat. Now, they were hungry for a victory and it wouldn’t take them long to figure out exactly how they’d get there.

“Tony thinks we’re unstable?” Peter muttered to himself with a mischievous smirk, “I’ll show him what unstable really means.”

[96thdayofrage]

Jacco Macacao is a monkey.

Over the years, British children would delight over the “Jacko Monkey” toy they’d receive for Christmas or their birthdays. These stuffed monkeys were available for sale into the late 80s. Those who are more sentimental can find the Jacko monkeys on eBay.

It is no coincidence that the same moniker would be given to Michael Jackson at the same time.

He broke the records of the Beetles as a child with his brothers, otherwise known as the Jackson Five. America grew up with Michael and his family, with he and his brothers becoming the first sex symbols for black girls all over the country. These black fans no longer found themselves explaining to their white counterparts why the floppy, stringy hair, blue eyes, and their British accent simply was not enough to propel them into idol status in black households. The problem was when the Jackson 5 became the same young idols for young white girls.

But Michael remained the cute little boy, with the incredible voice, and those deep eyes that one could peer into his soul. He would state that’s why he wore sunglasses so often. Michael was talented and he would prove he was capable of great things. His album, “Off the Wall” proved that. However, he took home no hardware at the Grammys that year. Soon, he would prove them all wrong.

Meanwhile, The Greatest Entertainer of all Time would be reserved for a white artist. Or so they thought.

Then Michael grew into a man and released “Thriller”, setting the world on fire. There wasn’t a day that the press didn’t write about him, while he broke record after record. Thriller was doing numbers that no other album had ever done. He was becoming a living legend, doing things like filling stadiums with thousands and thousands of screaming fans. Those who believed that the British Invasion was a scene that could not be topped, didn’t see the little boy from Gary, Indiana coming.

What would white America think about that?

Racism and the Press

The Civil Rights Act was signed into law. A year later, the Voting Rights Act followed. However, blacks were still asked to walk though the back door of a white person’s home. Many white people believed that as a country, we had done enough about the race problem, but many of them fled to the suburbs just twenty years later after rejecting integration outright.

Now, just twenty years later, their children were putting black artists on their walls. They were not willing to embrace the ideals of keeping the races separate. This new generation wasn’t interested in keeping the old prejudices alive. They were interested in good music and exploring new cultures. There was hope. There was just one of the old vanguards that hadn’t received the new memo: That was the press.

Michael was an interesting character at first. An anomaly. He didn’t act the way they expected most black men to act. Like his contemporary Prince, they were not sure what to make of him.

But Michael’s career exploded into the stratosphere with his album, “Thriller”, the biggest selling album of all time and they were forced to deal with him.

The short film, “Thriller” was about an all-American man who turned into a beast. The squeaky-clean Michael who didn’t drink or curse, soon became a weirdo in front of our eyes. A strange man who did strange things. For a while, that caricature held, until 1993 when the first allegations against Michael took hold. Without a shred of evidence, they turned a man who they had praised for years into a monster.

Racist

Time and time again, Michael beat the charges that were laid against him. His accusers defeated themselves with their ridiculous antics in and outside the courtroom. To unbiased observers, they saw the charges against Michael for what they truly were; vindictive extortion. But with no evidence to back their claims, they simply slithered back into the shadows. These people were so thoroughly discredited that even the media stopped calling them for interviews.

However, they would never be able to leave Michael alone. Not even after death. The old drumbeats began to flare again. Michael was guilty, they told us but they still couldn’t prove it. The accusers had openly perjured themselves in court many times, but none of that mattered.

Michael was another guilty black man. He was guilty of escaping the justice system that had convicted so many like him. He was guilty of making the media look foolish, when they were unable to convict him. He was guilty in their eyes and that’s all that mattered.

In the Beginning

The emasculation of black men began on the slave ships, as black slaves were raped, often in front of black men. This act of emasculation continued for centuries, as white men would rape black slaves whenever they felt like it. Even after slavery ended, this emasculation would continue with black women being raped, but a national incident would begin if a black man slept with a white woman. It would be enough for that black man to be lynched.

Fast forward to today, the media and others had tried to steal his blackness away, claiming he wasn’t black simply because he had a disease. The arrogance one must have to believe one has that ability to steal away one’s entire racial identity, simply because they could.

They knew they could and get away with it. America’s racial reckoning would not happen until a few years after his death. Had he lived longer, he would’ve known a more “woke” America. This more politically correct America would hesitate before making fun of someone for having a disease. This more “woke” America could never take away his “blackness”. This more “woke” America would have more people speaking out on his behalf and saying that this simply isn’t right. How do I know? These are things that are going on now.

This America would also never have Wade or James as “victims”. They wouldn’t have the guts to make baseless accusations against a man who gave them everything.

The real beast was let loose in his life. The real beast was the media.

The media was thoroughly racist. They were the children of those who had stood outside and picketed integration. They were the children who had grown up watching Bloody Selma on television. However, they would make their careers on the backs of their own fearmongering.

They stood outside Michael’s trial in 2005 and looked at his fans as if they were dangerous lunatics that deserved to be locked up. They didn’t realize that Michael’s fans were also consumers of mass media, so that when the media needed people to pay attention to their more serious stories like what was going on in the White House, less of the American populace would believe them. This allowed for a demagogue to claim “fake news” whenever he wanted. The media spent too much time on stories like Michael’s plastic surgery, Jesus Juice, and giving credibility to people real journalists would’ve shunned. They didn’t realize or had forgotten that Michael fans were also consumers of mass media and that they would have a hard time deciphering the truth from fiction. It was the media alone who should be held responsible for the erosion of trust in its own institutions. These were clearly self-inflicted wounds.

They poked through the crumbs they could find of Michael’s personal life, showing grotesque interest in things like Michael’s sexuality and even the size of his penis, bringing back a century old notion that the slave trade brought us. The examination of the bodies of black men. The preoccupation of the size of the sexual organs of black men. They picked at his skin color, with the same fascination that racist whites who practiced eugenics just a century and a half ago.

“Could a black man turn white?” they asked. Henry Moss was one of the first documented cases of a black man with vitiligo. Doctors studied his case as he made his body available to medical students.

A early century vitiligo patient

But this curiosity could not be limited to just medical students. For a shilling, one could line up in Philadelphia, to see this once black man turn into a white man. He became a “Great Curiosity”. After thirty-eight years, this black man suddenly began to turn white. In 1796, the public found themselves transfixed by this attraction. Even George Washington, the nation’s first president, paid to see him.

He would go on to tour several American cities, enduring endless racism and discrimination, and be treated like a sideshow instead of a human being.

In the 19th century, it was believed black people could turn white through vitiligo.

This story should sound familiar by now.

Some early thinkers were afraid that this could portend the end of slavery, which was dangerous and not a sign of progress. Others set out to prove that those with vitiligo were not white.

As time went on, society never quite figured out what to do with those who had vitiligo. Until Michael came along. Their ridicule was based in this old racism. This man came along and upset the natural order of things. Since they had nothing and no one to challenge him on the virtue of his talent, their only weapon was to make him so different, they would turn him into a caricature of himself. He would no longer be Michael Jackson, he would be “Wacko Jacko”, a figure of their imagination, which turned out to be convenient when the child sex abuse allegations came up.

Another picture…

The man who was once the all-American boy who had a dream to be the greatest, had turned into the monster of their nightmares.

The monster lurking behind every black man in America. That same caricature that had lived in the imaginations of white people for so long.

“Don’t ever be alone with one, even if you know ’em well.” That was the advice taught to every white girl growing up.

“They’ll turn on you, even when you’re good to ’em. You can’t trust em.’

The imaginations of the nearly all-white news media had run wild and truth no longer mattered.

In their eyes, Michael had become the monster. The truth was that he was a human being. Despite becoming the greatest entertainer of all time, he still had to face incredible amounts of racism whether from the press or from the record companies that didn’t want to take orders from this successful black man.

Racism….

The picture they tried to paint of Michael was the caricature and completely divorced from reality. Those that knew him said that he was a regular guy, extremely shy and incredibly generous. His legacy is still being targeted by those seeking money and fame, but now there seems to be some push back from those who are finally seeing the truth. The more we speak out, the more we can shovel through all the falsehoods and finally reach the truth; Michael was a human being who was incredibly talented. He was a father first, and he raised wonderful children. His music lives on forever and so does his legacy.

It bears stating that many who tried to make a career off Michael’s name will be forgotten mostly when they’ve gone as leeches and hangers on. While Michael is vindicated. We will see them for what they truly are; racist.

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Jalec Secret Santa for @finditagain24

Hi, Lau! You mentioned that you liked angst with a happy ending, canon development, pining, and longing so I thought you might like this little thing <3 I hope that you do, and happy holidays!!

watch the sunset in your eyes

Read on AO3

When Jace first came to the New York Institute to live with the Lightwoods, Alec regarded him as another Isabelle; a charge, someone for him to protect, despite the fact that Jace proved on his very first day that he was more than capable of protecting himself.

It didn’t matter to Alec; Jace reminded him of himself, in ways that made Alec want to rip off the cocky mask Jace always wore and meet the broken boy underneath. Jace was something, a new kind of challenge that Alec had never met before - utterly broken and flawed, but in that kind of beautiful way that Alec liked to lose himself in.

Years passed, and before long, Jace & Alec were in battle together, fighting side-by-side. They worked so well together, so steadily, that Alec thought he might have known even before Maryse cornered him in his room and told him the political benefits of having a parabatai like Jace Wayland. The truth was, Alec and Jace were already connected; the parabatai bond would only symbolize what was already there.

But Alec would’ve had to be blind not to notice the way that Jace’s eyes shone in the light, or how he managed to look a little like a lost puppy when his straw-blonde hair fell over his eyes, or the fact that his smirk after he’d killed a demon made Alec’s heart skip a beat. Alec noticed, and he knew - of course he knew.

Alec also knew that Jace didn’t share his feelings or his thoughts about the possibility of being bonded; he was all too happy, excited, and practically giddy at the idea of having a parabatai. Alec knew there was no way Jace was having the same internal crisis that he was, and he hoped to the Angel that the other boy wasn’t aware of it.

That fear of awareness was another thing that scared Alec - being parabatai would mean that he and Jace would be deeply connected on an emotional and physical level, and Alec wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant. Being gay wasn’t heard of in the Clave, and those that were guarded that secret so fiercely that it was rare for anyone to ever find out. Alec knew enough about Clave politics by the time he was thirteen to be afraid of Jace’s reaction, if he were to find out Alec’s secret.

Alec laid in his bed well after midnight that first day, when it was first announced that he and Jace would make a good parabatai pair, his hands clenched together tightly. He couldn’t sleep. It was starting to seem like he could never sleep these days. Jace slept on the other side of him, his blonde hair a golden halo on the pillow. He looked so peaceful, so unlike the brash warrior Alec knew in daylight. Alec swallowed hard. He looked like an angel. He looked like an angel, and Alec felt like a demon.

~ ~ ~

In the end, Alec knew he had to become parabatai with Jace, regardless of his own feelings. His mother would disown him if he backed out of the ceremony, and he couldn’t bear to disappoint Jace when he looked at Alec like he’d hung the stars in the sky.

Alec felt like he was going to throw up when they stepped into the ring of fire, but the look that Izzy gave him, so complicated and supportive and full of love, made him grit his teeth and lift his chin to meet his future parabatai’s eyes. He could do this. For his mother, for Izzy, for Jace. He could do this.

When Jace grabbed Alec’s arm, it sent a wave of heat through Alec and made his head swim. He swallowed hard. He had to do this.

The words, when they left Alec’s lips, felt oddly right, oddly comforting in some way. He’d thought they would taste bitter, like acid, but they fell from Alec’s mouth with the ease of his baby sister’s name.

“For whither thou goest, I will go. And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.”

Jace’s voice soothed the frayed edges of Alec’s nerves, and he found himself wishing the fire wasn’t quite so bright. He wanted to be able to look at Jace, really look, memorise the lines of his cheekbones and the soft suns in his eyes.

“The Angel do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.”

The overlap of their voices made Alec want to cry, made him want to reach for Jace and never let go, but instead, he reached forward and drew the parabatai rune on Jace. When he felt the matching burn on his own hip, he had to bite his lip so hard that it drew blood to stave off the tears that threatened to fall.

There was no going back now.

~ ~ ~

The main difference between Jace and Alec, in behaviour and in personality, was that Jace wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted. In that respect, he was practically fearless. And Alec knew that Jace had fears, but they were things whispered under the cover of darkness to him and him alone. Jace’s fears were rooted deep in his childhood, and they would have taken years for anyone else to uncover. Alec knew he was the only person to ever hear them, maybe the only person who ever would.

When it came to romance, however, Jace was fearless. He was so fearless that it took Alec’s breath away and made his heart stutter a step.

Alec wasn’t blind, but when it came to Jace, he tended to view the world through glasses tinted with self-loathing. He could feel Jace’s desire sometimes, knew that the other boy wanted something, but he had never considered that it might be him that Jace wanted.

They had been parabatai for nearly a year before Jace grew tired of waiting for Alec to realise what was happening, and made his intentions very, very clear.

“What is it?” Alec asked, entering the training room and letting the door fall shut behind him. “You said you needed to talk to me?”

Jace grinned, sharp like a cat that knew it was getting what it wanted. “Well, maybe talking wasn’t the best word to use.”

With that, Jace strode forward and slammed his lips to Alec’s, punching the breath from his parabatai and sending his heart into a spiral Alec knew it would never recover from.

Jace’s lips on his, in fact, were making Alec think he would never recover from Jace, period.

He’d dreamed about this moment for ages, and yet, the real thing blew past even the most insane of Alec’s fantasies. The feeling of Jace’s lips on his, of Jace surrounding him and pressing close to him and guarding him like he was something to be loved, something to be protected, made Alec dizzy. His hands found Jace’s hair, tugging at the golden blonde strands like they could somehow meld their bodies even closer together. Alec sighed against Jace’s lips and felt Jace respond in kind.

Halfway through their kiss, it hit Alec that he was kissing Jace, and he felt his knees begin to buckle. Jace, almost as if he’d expected this, backed Alec up against a wall and wrapped his arms around his parabatai’s waist, keeping him upright. Alec felt tears pool in his eyes. It shouldn’t be like this. He should be the one taking care of Jace, not the other way around. But he couldn’t deny that, after so long of taking care of other people, it felt good to be taken care of.

When finally they pulled apart, gasping for air, Jace’s eyes were bright, and the grin on his face was something softer than Alec was used to seeing on him. He smiled, too, almost shyly. This was new territory for him. He’d wanted, he’d dreamed, he’d even wished, but he had never thought that Jace would love him back, that Jace would feel for him what Alec felt for Jace. It almost felt like a miracle, like a gift from Raziel even though Alec knew he didn’t deserve it.

“Stop,” Jace whispered, pressing his forehead to Alec’s. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it.”

“Sorry,” Alec muttered, his cheeks flaming pink.

Jace shook his head, smiling a little. “You don’t have to apologise. I just don’t want you to overthink this like you do everything else.”

Alec opened his mouth to defend himself, but Jace raised an eyebrow at him, and the unspoken ‘You know I’m right’ was enough to make him close it again.

“You know this is forbidden, right?” Alec mumbled, avoiding Jace’s eyes. “We’re not, we’re not...we’re never supposed to do this. It’s against the Law.”

“Rules are meant to be broken,” Jace replied, grinning, and Alec sucked in a deep breath, frustrated. Jace could act like this meant nothing all he wanted, but Alec knew what they were risking.

“If anyone finds out - ”

“They won’t,” Jace reassured him, and his voice had lost some of its flippantness. Alec was still unconvinced. The Clave would consider them traitors if they were found to be in a relationship with each other. They could be de-runed. They could lose everything that they had ever loved, and all for what might be a quick fuck to Jace.

“You’re not,” Jace growled, and Alec flushed. He hadn’t realised he had spoken out loud.

“Alec, look at me,” Jace demanded, and Alec lifted his eyes to meet the other boy’s. As always, the golden orbs made his breath catch in his throat, but this time, there was more. It was like peering into a looking glass - the same feelings that Alec harbored for Jace were reflected back in Jace’s eyes.

“You’re my parabatai,” Jace said, and his fingers found Alec’s, tangling together in the space between their bodies. “You could never be just, just a fling to me, Alec.” There were tears in his eyes now, and he looked so hurt that Alec wanted to take all of his words and stuff them back into his mouth until he could erase that look from Jace’s face. “You mean so much more than that.”

“I feel the same way,” Alec said, exhaling with relief. “I just...are you sure you want to do this?”

Jace ducked his head and pressed another kiss to Alec’s lips. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

The tears from before spilled over, and Alec bit his lip, trying to stem the flow. Jace made a small, wounded sound in the back of his throat and pressed a soft kiss to Alec’s temple, wiping away his tears with the pad of his thumb. Alec choked on a sob, sagging forward into Jace’s arms. Jace caught him easily, holding his parabatai close. Alec couldn’t be sure, but he thought Jace was crying, too.

When Alec went to bed that night, it was with the scent of Jace on his clothes, the taste of Jace on his lips, and a smile on his face - for the first time in a very, very long time.

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

Hush Now

I accidentally deleted the request, but anon asked for “Kili saving human Reader who’s usually very brave from something which terrified her a lot.” I changed it up a bit and its story heavy. But here we go!

Kili x Reader

Trigger warning: Mentioned character death

Throughout your life you’ve always had to be strong. 

When your father died, you stayed strong so your mother didn’t have to.

When your mother fell to sickness, you stayed strong so your sister didn’t have to. 

When your sister sold you out for a reward of 200 gold pieces, you stayed strong so she wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that she completely destroyed you.

After you and your sister were left as impoverished orphans, you took to a life of crime to make sure she would always have something to eat. Not just crime, though, for you also sold your services as a mercenary amongst… other things. 

You had learned how to kill at the prime age of 15, and very quickly after that did your skills polish into something that even a grown man would fear if he knew what you were capable of.

You’d done everything for her. You’d sold yourself, your dignity, your innocence of the blade, everything. And after you had no more to give, she tossed you aside for barely enough to last her 6 months. 

The look she gave you that day, that apathetic stare as you were dragged away, shattered your heart into a million pieces, and it wasn’t until later when you’d killed the guards and fled from the city that you actually sat down and cried.

Despite the tragic nature of your past, though, there is no dramatic revenge plot or motivation to hunt her down. There is no desire to make her pay or see her suffer, for you released all of these feelings of contempt years ago.

A part of you wonders from time to time if she knew you would escape. If she, perhaps, sold you out for such a small amount so you would be freed from watching over her and catering to her. That, maybe, if you were to search for her, then she would smile and tell you how much she missed you, how sorry she was for not telling you of her plans. 

You know those are just the fantasies of a foolish girl holding onto the image of a sweet 9 year old, clutching your leg and asking when your next meal will be and telling you how she never wants you to leave her. It’s just your mind clutching onto the past, wanting to smooth over the trauma and pain that you go through thinking of her every day…

Though, in another regard you might also thank her. 

If it weren’t for her treachery, you would’ve never met him. 

After you abandoned your home town and became a full time rouge and sword for hire, you were sought out by a greying old man who claimed to be a wizard named Gandalf. 

He offered you a 15th share in a mountain full of riches and the opportunity to help reunite a king with his castle. 

It all seemed far fetched and kinda ridiculous, but he paid you a handsome amount up front so you agreed. And then it turned out that he wasn’t lying, for not even a week later do you meet this king in a wonderful town called the Shire. 

This Thorin was reluctant to allow you on the quest, but upon the instance and praise of Gandalf, he agreed. 

His youngest nephew, Kili, caught your eye right away. 

He is, not only, rather tall for a dwarf, but he’s quite cute by human’s standards too. Not to mention the fact that he approached you first with a big goofy smile on his face and curiosity in his eyes. 

The two of you got along rather easily, and for the first time since you became a devout mercenary and rouge, you found that you could trust someone. 

Trusting someone other than yourself is not easy, though, and there are many moments in which you doubt that trust when the more paranoid part of your mind whispers how he’ll betray you; but your fondness for this dwarf wins out for you in the end. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry or heard you complain before.” Kili comments suddenly, successfully snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. 

You look down at him from your horse and raise an eyebrow, “Are you saying you wish to see me cry?”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant at all!” He stutters when you seem to take his words the wrong way, “I only meant to say that you… come across as very impassive and restrained. Like when you got stabbed in the arm, you didn’t so much as utter one ‘ow’." 

He has a point, you realize, but it’s only become so natural for you to keep it all inside that you barely noticed, "I’ll have you know I did cry, it was just very quiet." 

It looks like he doesn’t believe you. 

"Really, it’s true. It hurt horribly, but I waited until Oin was done so my tears wouldn’t bother him.” Saying it out loud makes you feel silly and a little weird, and you wonder why you even told him in the first place. 

“Are you telling me you didn’t cry because it would unnerve our healer?” He asks incredulously, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. 

“Well when you say it like that…” You grumble, unconsciously reaching up to rub where the healing wound is. 

“I don’t mean to judge you, Y/N, I’m only curious.” He adds quickly, having his pony move a bit faster for a moment so he can get a peek at your face. “You seem to be rather fearless, I don’t think even my uncle could intimidate you." 

His words draw a laugh from your lips, and you look down at him with amusement sparkling in your eyes, "Everyone is afraid of something, Kili." 

"Then what are you afraid of?”

An innocent question, but one you don’t much want to answer. 

You force your smile to stay on your face and reply rather slyly, “Nothing other than Dwalin’s smell." 

"I heard that!” Said dwarf grumbles angrily not too far behind you. 

Kili stares at you for a few moments, clearly not believing you but not pressing on it any more. 

Honestly, you have no idea how he does that. He can read you like a book; somehow always knowing when you’re holding something back while also being able to tell what you’re feeling at any moment. 

But for some reason, you don’t really dislike having someone know you so well. 

“We’re going to be at the Misty Mountains soon enough, do you think we’ll get a chance to stop at a town?” You ask suddenly, looking down at him again. 

“Yes, actually. My uncle had this part mapped out with Gandalf.”

Well, that’s a relief. 

—

The group did end up stopping at a town, and let me just say, finally getting a chance to sleep on a soft, warm bed after being condemned to the ground for so long is a glorious experience. 

You slept pretty well that night, and at around 5 in the morning you get up as per usual. 

You’ve always been an early riser, or maybe paranoid sleeper is a better way to describe it. Your body has adapted to less sleep, and it got to the point where you just can’t stay asleep much later than 6 on any given day. 

Anyway, you get up early and decide to browse around the town for anything you may want or need, and for the better part of the next hour while you wait for your friends to awake, you idly wander and enjoy the tranquility of the morning.

Everything is wonderful and calm… until it isn’t.

At first, you thought you had imagined it. 

The sudden flash of a figure in your peripherals, but when you turned there was nothing. And then when you turned a corner, there was a flash of familiar (h/c) hair that whipped past. Your hairs began to stand on end, and you knew right away that you were being watched. 

You thought that perhaps someone saw you and was planning to rob or assault you, but you knew you could take whoever it is if that were the case. 

And then you saw her. 

For real this time, head on with no blur or fuzzy images. 

There she stood in front of you, her expression blank and body frozen in place, her face the exact same as you remember it from all those years ago.

You breathe her name in disbelief, taking a few steps back. It can’t be real, maybe you’re still dreaming? 

“You’re a hard woman to find.” She states softly in that sweet voice you could never forget. 

“Y-You were looking for me?” You stutter with, dare you say, hope, hand falling from your weapon while you look on in shock. 

“I was.” Is her only reply. 

It’s as if your brain has stopped working and you can no longer form a coherent thought or phrase, but you do eventually stammer out, “It’s been so long…" 

She doesn’t reply, and you suddenly feel unnerved. 

"Why were you looking for me?" 

She still says nothing, her gaze burning into you like the sun on a hot summer morning and her face unmoving.

And then she steps forward, but you don’t move and let her get close. 

"I’m going to get a lot more than 200 coins for you, this time.” She whispers, reaching up to press her palm to your face.

You know what she means, but for some reason your feet won’t let you move. It’s as if your feet are glued to the ground and knees locked tight. You continue to stare into her eyes, seeing nothing there like the day she let those guards drag you away. 

Her movements are fast, and before you can even open your mouth her dagger is sticking into your neck. 

-

You sit up with a loud gasp, hand flying to your throat as you frantically look around the room. 

It all floods back to you, and you realize that it was only a dream. That you made it out of the town with your throat intact and never having seen your sister.

That you all faced those god awful goblins and ended up here at some point.

For the first time in your 10 years of isolation, you want to cry.

To scream and break things, to pull out your hair and hurt someone. 

To find her and hurt her for what she did to you all those years ago. 

This line of thinking shocks you to your very core, and you reach up without a second thought and rub your face roughly, willing the thoughts to disappear. 

You haven’t had a dream like this in years, and you have no idea what’s prompted it now. 

When your eyes begin to burn and a lump settles in your throat, you jump to your feet and hurriedly go to another room so you can sort it out away from prying ears and eyes, only your sudden jerking awake alerted someone else to your state of distress. 

Once you’re isolated in another room, you begin to pace back and fourth quickly with you hands tangled in your hair. 

No matter how much you will the tears to evaporate and for your breathing to calm, though, they remain. Very soon do those unshed tears begin to stream down your face in long wet streams, and your breathing becomes more ragged as hyperventilation starts. 

And then you hear someone call your name. 

“Y/N…?" 

Your shoulders stiffen and you resist the urge to turn towards that ever familiar voice, your hands shaking at your sides as you clench them into fists. 

"You shouldn’t be here, Kili.” You say softly, your voice thick with emotion and not as strong as you’d like for it to be. 

There is no response, but you hear him approach carefully. He’s very good at keeping himself quiet, you’ve noticed, but your ears are trained to hear every little thing, so naturally you can hear him quite clearly. 

“Are… you crying?” He asks slowly, now standing right next to you. 

“No.” You deny a bit stronger this time, turning your face away sharply so that he won’t get a peek at your tear stained face. 

Once again there is silence (a much longer stretch of it this time), and for a moment you think he may have even left without you noticing; but when you look back, he’s looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, 

Right away you reach up and rub at the tear streaks staining your face, and a deep set frown settles on your face, “I’m fine." 

Pain flashes across his face at your assurance of being alright, and if it weren’t for the fact that he could see you, he probably would’ve believed it too. 

"You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” He asks just as quietly, placing a hand on your arm lightly. 

“…No.” You mumble after some time, sighing heavily as you move away to settle into a pile of hay with your back to the wall and your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like a shield or self hug. 

Kili follows you without hesitation and sits next to you, his leg pressing against yours while you both descend into silence once more. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offers in that same soft, sweet voice of his, reaching up to rub your arm reassuringly. “You don’t have to." 

For some reason, you actually kind of want to. 

"I told you about my upbringing, didn’t I?” You answer his question with a question and feel no remorse for it. “And of my sister?" 

He nods his head and drops his hand back into his lap, looking up at you with the smallest of smiles on his face. 

"I haven’t really thought about any of that in a while, you see. Not to say that I don’t think of it every day, but I more so mean the feelings I had then, how it felt and all the anger I once had.” You pause and shake your head, “I’m not making any sense." 

"No, I understand. And even if I didn’t, it’s your story to tell, so you tell it how you wish." 

You nod your head at that and continue, "I had a dream…,” you begin with a softer voice this time, your fingers digging into your arms while you huge yourself, “Of my sister. Of her finding me, having fallen onto the same wretched path as I, and killing me. Sticking me in the throat with a knife like a pig being bled out for a feast, telling me that she’ll be awarded much more for me this time around as if I were some sort of merchandise that she was selling.” You spit out the similes like they taste bad in your mouth, and you unconsciously hold yourself tighter as you remember the night terror. 

Long silences are very quickly becoming a trend, for once more the only thing filling the air at the moment is the quiet that wraps around the both of you. 

“That’s why you’re crying?" The dwarf inquires compassionately, looking over at you with a frown of his own and sadness shinning in his eyes. 

"I’m not crying anymore.” You grumble, only to realize that tears have, in fact, begun to shed tears once more. “O-Oh…" 

Before you can reach up and dispel the salty droplets of your sorrows from your eyes, two hands come up to cup the sides of your face while two matching thumbs smooth across your wet cheeks to do it for you. 

This time he wears a small, sympathetic smile, and once he wipes all your tears away he keeps his hands as they are. "I cannot pretend to know what you go through or how that night terror made you feel, but… I do understand. What you’ve had to endure throughout your life has shaped who you are now, and while I would not trade who you are for anything, I do wish that I could do something to ease your pain." 

His fingers continue to smooth along your cheek gently, and you find that you can’t help it when your eyes slide shut and you lean into the warmth of his hands. 

With delicate movements, you reach up and place one of your hands over his, sighing through your nose before opening your eyes again to look at him. 

"Thank you for saying that, Kili.” You breathe with a small smile upturning the corners of your lips.

When you smile his own brightens and he says more joyfully this time, “Of course. And know that I meant every word of it." 

Slowly you slot your hand against his own until you’re holding it, and then it rests between the two of you while you engage in some sort of odd, intimate stare down.

And then you lean forward and press a light kiss against his cheek, brightening when you see his face turn slightly red. 

"I meant that, too.” You reply cheekily, forgetting your sorrows for a moment while you just enjoy the company of this wonderful dwarf. 

“And I mean this.” He shoots back before pecking your lips gently. 

This time it’s your turn to become flustered, but you still smile and allow yourself to laugh. 

“Thank you." 

[quackeroos]

ONE WEEK || Day One

Pairing: tom holland x dying ex!reader

Summary: you were dying, and tom still loves you. now he plans on loving you ‘til your last breath, and maybe get you to say those three words back to him. 

Warnings: swearing, angst

Words: 1.9k

General Masterlist | Series Masterlist

TOM TOOK A SIP from his morning tea. His Spotify playlist playing in the background while he patiently waits for his toast. Because the moment his phone rang with a familiar name on the screen, his heart dropped. It couldn't be. Tom took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with his shirt. He was seeing it perfectly clear. Her name and picture lit up his screen. After all these years, why is she calling now? Tom was pulled back from his thoughts when his toaster popped. His hand quickly caught his phone before the final ring, and he answered immediately.

He lets out a shaky breath, "Hello?"

"Hello, Tom?" he lets out a sigh of relief. Relaxed. "It's Jamie."

"Oh, Jamie! How are you? And why are you calling by the way? With um-your sister's phone?" The other end of the line was silent for a moment. He could hear faint sobs coming from the teenager.

"Jamie? Are you alright? What happened?"

"T-tom... It's Y/n."

At the mention of her name, he became uneasy again. It's been so long since he heard that name. Too long. But when he heard her name with Jamie's worried tone, he knew. Something was wrong.

Tom got off his car and ran straight through the building. He didn't mind asking which room she was checked in; Jamie had already filled him in with the details. It was a stupid idea, going to a hospital and visiting your bedridden ex-girlfriend. But despite that thought, all Tom knew, that he had to see her again.

He stood outside the door. Room 243, written on the plaque. And just underneath it, was her name. He felt anxious, worried and excited all at the same time, and it was like a whirlwind hitting him. Tom lets out one last breath before knocking on the wooden door and opening it. He entered cautiously and closes the door slowly.

The room was white and a bit dim, with only little light coming from the windows and lamp. It smelled of disinfectant and coffee, yet the room was clean. At the other side, Jamie was binge watching on her laptop, with her earphones in her ears, she didn't notice Tom come in only until he showed himself.

She quickly stood up and walked towards the man, embracing him in a tight hug while staining his shirt with her leftover tears. Tom could tell Jamie hadn't slept all night and that she had been crying for hours. Her stained sweater and red eyes with bags under it screamed everything she was feeling right now. "I'm so glad you came, Tom. I'm sorry if I called you in a bad time." Jamie sniffed.

"No, don't be sorry. It's fine."

"I-it's just, I didn't know what to do and I don't know who to c-call. My finals are coming up and I have to watch-" before she could even finish her sentence, she cried again. Tom watched her let out her frustration before embracing her back into a hug. Jamie was the girl whom he had considered his sister, and seeing her break down like this, it was an unlikely scene Tom never imagined would happen.

The once happy-go-lucky twenty-year-old he knew had reached the lowest point of her life. He engulfed her into a tight hug, caressing her back for comfort. "Hey, I'm glad you called me for help. And don't worry, y/n will get through this." Jamie pulled back and sniffed, nodding in the process. "Do you want to come inside? She's sleeping, but I think she'll wake up at any moment."

Without a second thought, Tom accepted and walked beyond the pillared wall, the only thing separating y/n's bed from tiny living room. The moment he saw her lying on the bed, his heart sunk. An IV bag hung from the pole beside her bed, connecting it to the top of her hand, a needle sinking in through her veins. She looked so peaceful, and the thought of her being bedridden made him even more anxious. Y/n's soft snores were the only thing that could be heard within the four walls, and Tom smiled sadly, reminiscing the times she would sleep in his bed, cuddled up next to him. He missed it. Everything he had with her, he missed it.

"Friedreich's ataxia." Tom looked up at Jamie.

"It's a genetic disease that causes her difficulty in walking. A loss of sensation in the arms and legs and impaired speech. It worsens over time; I heard the doctors say." Her sister walks towards her bed and sits on the edge, careful not to wake her up.

"She was diagnosed with it three years ago, it only so happened that the disease kicked in." Three years ago. That was the year they had broken up. Tom didn't know the reason why, and it broke him on that day. And now that he knows, guilt washed over him. He felt guilty that he didn't noticed she had this, and that he didn't asked her to explain why she wanted to call it off. What kind of boyfriend was he?

If only he knew, then he would've taken care of her and helped her all this time. It was a heavy toll for Tom to carry on his shoulders, and the guilt was pinning him down. "Tom, I know y/n doesn't want you to be here, but you're the only person I could trust to watch her while I'm gone."

"What about your parents?"

"Mum and Dad were out on a business trip. I already called them about the situation. Hopefully they'll arrive here tomorrow."

***

Y/n heard voices talking quietly in her room. The room was cold, too cold for y/n's liking. And it didn't help, not one bit, that her disease was getting the best of her. She felt like shit. She sat up straight and lets out a yawn. Her eyes opened slowly and looked around the room. "Jamie, could you-" she stopped midway, when her eyes landed on a certain brunette-haired actor, she rubbed her eyes before looking at him again. “I must be dreaming again." y/n had mumbled quietly, but it was loud enough for Tom to hear.

Again. She had a dream about him more than one time. He had smiled without even knowing. Tom felt nostalgic, and every memory of her kept surfacing back from the moment she spoke.

"Good morning, y/n." She froze. Her brain was processing everything, and it was odd. Because usually, Tom didn't talk in her dreams. Because for the past few nights, in her dreams, she saw him crying. Y/n didn't know what it meant but it has been bothering her. She looked at the man suspiciously before leaning towards the side of her bed, eyeing him closely. Tom had also leaned in, and once the two were close enough, y/n touched his face before gasping and pulling back her hand. "Y-you're real? You're here?!"

"I-uh I came-"

"That doesn't matter. Tom, get the hell out." She pointed towards the door. Tom felt his heart clench. It was like before, she told him to stay away from her and he listened. But he wasn't going to do that same mistake again. "No. I'm staying, y/n." So, he stood his ground. Y/n glared at him; it was as if she loathed him even after they broke up. But deep inside, Tom could see her eyes soften from time to time. "Didn't I tell you to stay away from me?" She spat.

"I know. But I'm not going anywhere, not this time."

"And why is that?"

"You're sick, y/n. And Jamie has finals. I'm not letting you stay here on your own."

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And besides, Mom and Dad will be coming home tomorrow so there's no need for you to be here."

Jamie watched the two converse from the side. As much as she wanted to interfere, she didn't. The younger sister knew better, she knew that it was time for them to finally talk things out. So she walked out of the room silently and went out to buy breakfast for her and Tom.

Tom lets out a frustrated sigh and brushed his fingers through his hair. "Why didn't you tell me about this before, y/n? Why won't you just let me help you?" She was taken aback/n tried to find the words, but she couldn't tell him. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Three years ago. The night we were strolling around the park, you suddenly broke up with me and didn't tell me why. Earlier, Jamie told me you were diagnosed with a disease, also three years ago. Was that the reason, y/n?"

"Don't be daft. I had other reasons, Tom." She avoided the question. Tom knew, her eyes were looking away from his and she was fiddling with her blanket. It was a habit she often does when she was either lying or if she was hiding something. He knew her all too well. After all, after being in a relationship with her for almost seven years, it was hard to forget about her and the little things she does "I'm not stupid, y/n. Why won't you just tell me? Because I still have no fucking clue why you suddenly left me in the air. I deserve and explanation y/n!"

"I don't have to tell you anything Tom! Now would you please," her voice cracked. "Just leave me alone and forget about me."

"I can't! Because for some reason, I just can't seem to let go of what happened that night! I loved you, okay? God, I fucking loved you y/n! Don't you know how hard it was for me to move on with my life for three years? If it was something I did wrong in the past, then I'm sorry! Just tell me why-"

"I was supposed to die, okay!" she bursts out.

Tears streamed out of y/n's eyes and the droplets fell on the white covers of her bed. Tom was silent, heaving out heavily after his sudden outburst earlier. "The doctors said I only had three years to live, possibly even less than that. I didn't knew how to tell you because I was scared, Tom. I'm scared of leaving the life I've dreamed of." The two were silent for a moment. Tom sat back in his chair and propped his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. "Y/n, you could've told me about it, you know? I could've taken care of you." he mumbled out.

"I don't want to be a hindrance to your job. Tom, I know you've been dreaming to be an actor ever since you were young. You love acting, Tom, and I don't want you to stop doing what you love because of me."

"Don't I love you?" this silenced her.

"Y/n, you were never stopping me from anything. You're the only one thinking that. Jamie asked for my help, and I can't let you be alone in this state." Everything was a blur; from the time she was sent to the emergency room up to here. It passed by so quickly that her mind couldn’t comprehend everything that was happening. Tom wanted to help her, even after all that had happened between them, somehow this enlightened her. "I'm dying, Tom. Friedreich's ataxia can't be cured. I don't know how much time I have left, but all I know is that it's soon."

"Then let's make the most of it. Let me stay and be with you in the last moments of your life."

-

day two of One Week

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[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[mimiplaysgames]

save it for the morning after, pt. 2

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) Word Count: 7,384

Summary: Terra learns to trust his body to another.

Read on AO3

A/N: HAPPY TERRAQUA DAY!!! I posted what would’ve been a one-shot last year... then came the messages asking me to expand on that. Considering what kind of writer I am, I don’t know if y’all understood what you asked for: I pick on Terra savagely - it’s dangerous to be my favorite. This piece goes to @lyssala who requested a piece that featured Character C interrupting Characters A and B during moments when they wanted to be alone, when I wanted to celebrate 100 followers on Twitter! I had to split this chapter in two cuz it got too long, so CONGRATS. You get two gifts. <33

~*~*~*~*~

Waking up is a nightmare.

Terra doesn’t remember his dream when he opens his eyes - only the sensation that he’s about to stare into a cloaked face, grinning with sharp canines and bright yellow eyes. His jaws clench badly enough that his teeth grind. His lips feel like they have been sewn shut. He can’t move anything, not his head cemented against the pillow, not his sagging arms or legs, as though the strings he’s used to move them have been cut. 

Not again. 

He takes in oxygen with short, desperate inhales through his nostrils. His fingers claw into the bed sheets as he tries to take back control.

As pleasant as this bright sunny morning, something presses on his chest, crushing his breath.

Yet, the only thing greeting him is an off-white ceiling.

Falling asleep is usually just as bad. It’s not the act of dreaming that puts him in danger - it’s the transition between consciousness and not that he fights every morning and every night. It’s the feeling of slipping out of fear that he’ll never speak again. If he didn’t have to rely on sleep to stay alive, he would just never close his eyes again. 

She shifts next to him, murmuring before quieting.

Terra thanks himself for not moaning or yelling this time. The last thing he needs is to disturb her with his fits.

Aqua rolls over, readjusting her body before nestling into her pillow. She looks so serene like this, bedsheets wrapped tightly around her hips and her breasts exposed, creamy and still.

It’s bright for an early morning - the snow outside reflects the sunlight, painting the entire room in a brilliant glow that illuminates the entire room, including just how pink her nipples really are.

She’s like a mermaid. Precious and rare, something he doesn’t deserve, and he’s the stupidest, luckiest bastard in this world, who has done absolutely nothing to have her in bed with him.

He’s more unworthy than that - he’s in her bed.

Terra lets go of the sheet finger by finger, his breath eventually losing its deathgrip over his throat and settling still, letting his muscles relax and giving his shoulders back some control. Rolling over to his side to watch her, he leans on an elbow. The butterflies in his stomach flurry worse than ever, more excitable than even last night.

Last night… Wow. He can’t believe it all happened. Lying together undressed, touching her, sharing kisses that he dreamt of for years, feeling her on his skin, being inside her, how they exchanged breaths to keep going… now she’s sleeping soundly like she’s in the safest place in the world.

She’s told him before that she has the worst trouble sleeping, but last night, she fell under quite quickly in his arms, taking a spot in the crook of his neck. He’s glad he could help her in any way.

The Realm of Darkness has done an impressive job in preserving her. While Aqua doesn’t smile like she used to, her face is still everything he remembers. Face untouched by marks or lines. Lips pillowy and hair the same color. For her, sleep is peace, very much like the way she used to look when she napped on top of her open books in the library, halfway through an anxious night studying.

She’s been given a second chance at life - they all have, let’s be honest. A rare grace that most will never see. People grow old, they separate from their loved ones, they die. Here two of them rest in a soft bed, keeping their youth, grasping at something like childhood dreams and excitement about their future - but the truth is they’ll never have it again. He’s sorry about that.

And Aqua, she does have scars even if they don’t live on her face. There are scruffs crisscrossing down her arms, two on her collarbone - mostly unnoticeable to anyone who doesn’t know their history. There is one, faded and white on her bicep, that he inflicted on her one nasty afternoon when he wanted to prove that his brand new Keyblade was stronger than hers.

He paid for that afternoon with a severe lecture and a fifty-page essay.

Then there are others - nastier, some braided, others like craters. One on her ribcage right under her breast that curls and splays. There’s a slash across her entire back, and he’s scared of asking where it came from.

Really scared.

Of course, he has to account for all the scars he can’t see: the ones that make her flinch at night, like Ven walking in on her unannounced, taking her by surprise.

She pays for her second chance at life in plenty of ways.

Despite it all, she’s beautiful. She has always been. And when she’s gray and cranky, she still will be.

Her nose wrinkles and she sniffs - some of her hair strands have fallen in front of her face, tickling her.

When he takes the opportunity to brush her hair - gently, gently - off of her face, Terra lingers in the feeling of silk strands as he collects them behind her ear. He’s always wanted to do this. 

Aqua hums, her arms stretching outward. Her chest arches with breath. He jerks his hand away, hoping against hope that he didn’t ruin it.

“Sorry,” he whispers, almost shushing her back to slumber.

Wiggling her eyelids open, the first thing she notices is him. Aqua smirks and immediately covers her mouth with her hand to giggle. 

So seeing him struck memories of last night for her, too.

“Good morning,” he says, trying to sound cocky but his voice is rougher than he wants. 

She brings the bed sheet up to her nose. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato. This isn’t really her usual self, Aqua has always had too much dignity for giggling. But he likes this sudden melting of her defenses - a flustered Aqua is a cute Aqua. 

“Good morning,” she says, almost like she’s about to ask what he’s doing there. Despite covering herself, her smile reaches her eyes, and every time she glances at him, she beams even more.

“Looks like you’ve slept well,” he says with a distinct flavor, like he’s witnessing a scandal.

She narrows her eyes. “What are you insinuating?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat. “You’re…” Naked. I’m naked. “The proof is under the sheets.”

Aqua composes herself, lowering the sheet to her collarbone, and confidently calms her nerves, her eyes whittling away all that childlike excitement from earlier.

But he knows she knows what he’s talking about, though there’s not a hint of shame in her eyes either. She rolls over to meet him face to face.

“I did sleep well,” she says softly, inching closer, looking up at him.

Her intense blue eyes glimmer, especially in sunlight. Drinking in the sight before her, they find solace somewhere on Terra, even though he doesn’t have the capability to give it to her. 

Terra’s heart thumps and it’s the loudest thing in the room. His fingers strum the surface of the bed, so close to her face. He could tap her nose and make her laugh. Cup her cheek and let her sigh. Stroke her jaw and finally embrace her.

These are all just fantasies, but he indulges in them. Aqua’s quicker to act. She lifts her head up, closing the gap and taking his lips onto hers.

While the ones they had last night were hungry, maybe even desperate, this one is patient, feeling him slowly, taking him in different angles, exploring the sorts of ways she can invite his tongue to do more. 

She gathers her arms around his neck, pulling him as she falls back. When she skates her hands over his shoulders - his biceps and back up to his pecs - his skin electrifies, shooting goose flesh down his spine. 

Aqua lets one hand go to fuss with the sheets wrapped around her chest, letting nothing stand between his bare skin and her creamy softness. 

The contact shocks him and he has to breathe deeper, taking it in like he’s drowning. It helps him feel her all the more.

More. Everything in his twitching groin needs more.

Gripping her waist in a moment of panic - the kind where he’d never feel her again if they let go - Aqua responds by pushing with her weight, rolling him onto his back, pulling them together with her hands on his jaw, her messy kisses pulling hard on his lips (they still need to practice). 

Terra in the meantime glides his fingers up and down her back. Her scar is as long as the list of consequences that could all be traced back to his mistakes. Longer than that - as long as a trail that would lead out the bedroom.

The one under her breast splays like a mess of bare branches in the dead of winter, and he holds his palm there firmly, like he’s trying to keep them from ripping more.

How does he tell her with anything but words that he didn’t quite understand the extent of pain, of how far it could go, until he was possessed? 

Is there such a thing as a hug comforting enough or a held hand loving enough to measure that? 

His hands go to her hips, and squeeze what plumpness she has. He lets her make the decision to rock against his pelvis. Only then does he apply the pressure, make her pant against him.

Terra becomes more impatient, and he kneads her with both hands, starting with her ass before climbing up, taking notice of how her nipples harden under his palms.

The kiss breaks with her smile. 

“What?” 

Aqua is already red from the flush, but now she’s worse for wear and she’s trying to hide it. “Your hands are so big.”

“They are?” He doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Her breasts fit his palms just fine, supple and round. Letting one go, he tests the size by comparing it to her face; it covers everything, from his wrist on her chin to the fingers digging into her hairline, his palm taking up the entire space across her cheeks that he can only see dashes of her eyebrows. “They are.”

She chuckles into his hand, giving it a quick peck before caressing it. Her breath composes itself, and her smile is content. Her gaze is full of light, welcoming him in, and it makes him feel protected. Safe enough to surrender. Maybe even forgiven. She’s about to come back down, and they can continue. He can let her shine on him, let himself go and forget all about this horrible morning-

A knock on the door. “Aqua?”

Aqua sits straight up. Immediately clamps down on Terra’s mouth with her hand. 

Everything suddenly… slams to a stop, and Terra’s erection writhes, begging. 

Worst timing, Ven. 

“Y-yes?” Aqua calls.

Terra stares at her with bulging eyes. Please don’t leave me like this.

She smirks.

“Terra’s not in his room,” Ven says through the door. “And I’m hungry.”

“Okay-”

Terra bucks up against her, gnawing at her toned thigh. It makes her gasp and wrestle with a smile.

“I’ll be right out, Ven,” she says, trying so hard not to choke on a laugh. She gives Terra a sympathetic smile, and quickly, silently pecks his lips before peeling off of him and pulling him out of bed.

His sternum grows stones and they all sink to his stomach. 

Pushing him into her bathroom, she scrambles to pick up all of his items of clothing: his pants, shirt, briefs… is that everything? Yes. She throws them in a heap against his body before quietly turning the knob and closing it.

Her bathroom is chillier than the bedroom, and Terra rests his back against her closed door, grimacing.

Rustling behind him - she hurries to get dressed, calling out a You can come in, Ven, before turning her attention to her bed sheets. 

“Sorry,” she says as footsteps approach her.

Terra keeps his breath steady and inaudible - but it’s so hard. Really. He’s still ready to go, the throbbing in his groin becoming agonizing. It tingles like an interrupted sneeze - worse than that, like a desperate itch with an uncomfortable squeeze - and he pushes and stretches his shaft to make it uncomfortable, just so it would calm down. 

It doesn’t calm down. Why.

“I overslept,” Aqua continues.

Without a pause, Ven says, “So you must have really slept well, that’s great news!”

Terra swallows a groan.

Aqua rustles some more. He imagines she’s nodding, trying to find the right words. “It does feel good.”

“Do you know where Terra is?” the twerp says.

Terra will tell him where Terra is. Terra flips the shower on, only the cold knob. His erection needs it.

There’s an uncomfortable pause from the other side of the door, and Aqua has stopped making her bed.

“Is that him using your shower?” Ven asks.

“His isn’t working.” She sounds so confident.

There’s another pause - something about it, maybe the way Aqua finishes her words so trepidly, that makes the silence seem longer even though it isn’t.

“It smells weird in here,” Ven says, slowly.

“Terra is filthy,” Aqua says, like it’s the most obvious answer. “Ven, when I finish getting ready, I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Terra is sure she’s probably throwing daggers with her eyes through the door and he grins at the thought. Most of his pranks are usually thought-out and have some figment of imagination, but this has to be his new favorite. 

Cold water stabs at his skin - it’s terrible enough to make him forget every mood he’s experienced since waking up. He picks up her lavender bar of soap. It smells so different than on her skin, and it invigorates all of his senses. He never thought he’d get the chance to. But here he is, in her shower, covered by a turquoise curtain and seeing how neatly her toiletries line up. 

Ven must have left by now, because Aqua knocks on the door, telling him where she’ll be… after breakfast they’ll all be outside to shovel snow from the lower windows and pathways… have a snow fight, that will be fun… and maybe she’ll see him later? There’s hope in her voice, shyness even. 

~*~*~*~*~

Outside, he can’t help but stare at the way the sun gleams off of the snow. He has to shield his eyes from the way it blinds him, and yet it makes him grin from ear to ear. 

Consider how much better it is than a decade of nothingness.

They were absolutely buried last night, but they all survived.

Snow blocks the front and back entrances of the castle, tall enough to reach Terra’s hips. The trees all sag from the weight, and the fields have hills on them now that don’t exist in the spring. 

What a chore though - his friends don’t understand what it takes out of him anymore, now that he’s back in a body he’s lost touch with for years (to the point that he used to forget he ever had one). Shoveling is a skill that demands all the power in his biceps and triceps, his shoulders, his rhomboids, all the way down to the lower back, straining to the point that it feels like a heavy ball is chained into his skin, pulling down. 

At the same time, he sweats profusely underneath all those layers, like he’s trapped in an oven, baking for two hours past the point of well-burnt. It makes him want to strip naked and run down the woods. 

If Aqua and Ven are enjoying the cold in their faces from the exposure, or finding comfort in the heat of their snug clothes… they’re lucky because they can’t compare. They don’t feel as strongly as he does.

Terra hunches over the terrace, staring at the snow gathered along the stone railing. 

He’s on fire.

Freeing his fingers from his gloves and throwing his knit hat off, Terra plants his bare hands into the snow. It stings. Then it burns in a different way, quick to sear. 

“Doesn’t that hurt, Terra?” he hears Ven ask, skipping over to him.

Terra groans. It’s too much - too much cold, too much heat, yes, even from this morning, lingering and gnawing and asking for release… But he can’t think about that or Aqua right now, it will make it worse. It’s all Ven’s fault.

“It’s actually nice,” he mutters, grabbing fistfuls, nearly wanting to plant his face into it. 

“I guess…” Ven means well. He doesn’t understand what it feels like to be a maniac (his words, not Terra’s). “Making a snowman?”

Terra continues to collect the snow into a ball - it’s massive now, definitely fit for a base.

He grins, and the sight of it strikes nervousness into his best friend.

“What are you-”

Whump.

Ven pummels backward, slammed in the face by a mound of snow. It was so large and heavy that Terra had to carry it in both hands, and it buries Ven when he lands.

Spitting snow out of his mouth, Ven’s nose is now red from the cold. “That’s not fair, we aren’t supposed to have a snowball fight yet!”

Not fair was the interruption this morning.

“Better now than never,” Terra says, lightly stomping the ground with his foot. The earth beneath layers of frozen water hears his call. It vibrates, radiating upward, and a wave of snow bursts outward and covers Ven from head to toe.

“You’re crazy!”

Ven crawls out of his frigid entrapment, and Terra prepares another massive heap. Something about this is very gratifying. He should pick on Ven more often. 

“Heads up!” Ven yells.

A tiny snowball that Ven grabbed in a second - inconsequential, honestly, in comparison to the boulder Terra has now - strikes Terra on the neck.

It’s just the thing to take the beast down.

Snow runs down his inner coat, like a million needles pricking all those sore muscles that got a beating earlier from shoveling. They tense up until they’re hard as bone. It’s cold. Shit.

Terra falls on his knees, beating his shoulder to warm it up as much as possible, but it only gives the snow momentum to scuffle into his pants.

“Aaaaaaaaand,” Ven boasts, “he’s down.”

Terra staggers, the snow burning his hip and trickling down his thigh. He manages to stay on his feet, his skin getting numb. Then he lunges forward.

Ven shrieks and laughs, taking off, running as fast as he can from big, bad Terra. He’s much faster than either of them, yet they sometimes forget. 

Terra underestimates Ven all the time, who is now disappearing into a thicket, but he doesn’t care. Running pumps blood into the right head. The wind brushes through his hair and it chills him all the more, overwhelming with the smell of fresh air, the sting of the light reverberating off of the whiteness, the unresolved frustration, the bead of sweat which has frozen itself on his forehead.

But more than the fact that Terra feels too much is that he’s tired. Sprinting can only get him so far (or so near, compared to how fit he used to be before the fall). He’s quick to lose stamina, and his foot sinks deep into a pot of loose snow. He trips, landing face first. 

It’s cold and it burns, but Terra is relieved from all other sensations just the same.

~*~*~*~*~

Now he can’t shake off the shivers.

Aqua sets a hearth ablaze in the fireplace, a haven within the library on the first floor, close to the doorway which would eventually lead to the dining room. Everything about the bottom floor is situated like a home fit for a family. It’s expansive, where all the hallways interconnect so no one can get lost. It’s where all the pleasant memories live. 

This isn’t the place where they had their first kiss, though. Nothing on the first floor can hide. 

Terra rests on the lounge chair, a massive thing that swallows anyone smaller than him in a dark forest green. It looks black now that the sun has dipped behind the mountains so early today.

It’s a deep enough color to hide all the torture that three rambunctious children have whipped on the poor thing. Terra has a faint memory of where the stains might be, but he can’t find any.

The fire isn’t enough. Terra has an ocean blue blanket to boot, wrapped around his shoulders. Aqua’s. She’s always been the neatest of the three, so he can’t imagine this would have any evidence of foul play.

The door behind him creaks and he hears soft, bare footsteps approaching him. Unlike her, sound doesn’t really make him nervous. 

But having her near him does. Always has, and maybe always will. 

“Doing better?” She puts a warm hand on his forehead for the fifth time that evening to check for a fever. She was the one to find him slumped and groggy in the snow outside. Of course. “You’re still cold,” she mumbles.

At her touch, his heart beats obnoxiously for his attention, like a shrill child being purposefully ignored. Look, look, she’s touching us!

He groans. 

“No, you’re not okay?”

“I am,” he says. “I just hate how I’m feeling.” 

Aqua grins, taking a seat on his armrest, bringing one bare leg to her chest. She’s wearing shorts, and Terra takes a quick glance over. A baggy sweater covers most of her body, and his heart is now thrashing, knowing exactly what it looks like underneath. 

But it’s her eyes that hold him still.

“You’ll get used to it,” she reassures him, nodding into her knee.

That’s usually her answer, and she’s right: the day he came back, the minty taste of mouthwash burned a hole through his jaw, and he had yelled from the pounding in his ears. You’ll get used to it. 

Now, it just gives him a tense headache. See? 

It’s her confidence that he finds so comforting - like she knows all these hyper-feelings will sort themselves out if he gives it another day (or week, or month). After all, she has said before, he’s been out of commission for so long.

Terra wonders if she’s ever said that to herself, night after night in the Realm of Darkness. It’s okay to be alone right now, I’ll get used to it. 

Aqua does such a fantastic job holding it together, even late in the night, when he almost expects her break. She never does. How does she do that?

Love is such a strong word to use, but it’s the truth. 

Terra knew it as a child. Aqua had begged him to play a tea party with her, under very specific conditions: she was the lady knight and he was the princess. She made him wear an apron and a paper tiara to play the part. As much as he begrudged the idea, the moment she told him he was holding the teacup wrong, he knew - he was going to marry her. 

Adults would say that children wouldn’t know any better, but child-Terra knew his heart, and he knew it would never change.

He loves her now, as vibrant as the forest becomes the moment the rain hits. One day, he’ll get used to the feeling and won’t feel the need to cry at the thought.

He thinks about telling her what his last thoughts were, right at the moment he lost it all: her cerulean eyes. How there is the faintest sliver of amethyst in them if they reflect off the sun at just the right angle if he was close enough to see, like a secret jewel nestled in the shallow water of a beach...

“You’re right, I will,” he mutters.

“No more knocking yourself out in the wild?” She chuckles. “Please don’t worry me like that again.”

“I won’t, I’m sorry.”

She hums. “It’s nothing to be sorry about.”

There’s a lot to be sorry for. 

Terra’s eyes fall for just a second. He can’t kick the habit of struggling with his own existence sometimes, but she finds reason after reason inside that insane mind of hers to smile when she looks at him. She forgives him way too many times, and it makes that small girl who barked at him for sipping his tea too loudly at a dainty party seem so distant.

Aqua brushes the tips of her fingers on his knuckles, leaning forward. “I’m…” Stopping herself, she searches the carpet for something to say, anxiety creeping into her face. Try as she might to say more, she can’t bring herself to. She’s chipping. 

Terra turns his palm over to take her hand in his. She’s the one to thread their fingers together.

He doesn’t know why everything knots in his throat either, too apprehensive to come out. Love is a strong word to say after years apart. He’ll let her say it first, lest he scares her more.

If she ever does. Though he’s not scared of it himself. 

The sound of footsteps approach from the hallway, and Aqua releases him before straightening herself out.

Terra’s heart sinks at the silence that crashed between them, uninvited. It drowns when it gets to his stomach, but it will breathe eventually. 

“Chicken soup for the big loser,” Ven announces, rolling a cart with a boiling pot behind him. There’s a stack with three bowls, and spoons. 

Terra and Aqua don’t say anything back, readjusting their posture and pretending that nothing has occurred this moment, this day, or last night. Terra brings his fingers - the ones she held - to his lips. They’ve made contact for so little that he can’t smell her scent on them, but her warmth lingers.

Ven’s about to tease some more when he glances at each of them. “Am I… interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Ven,” Aqua says sweetly, composed. She approaches his work, all the pieces that have crumbled away coming back to her. “It smells delicious.”

Ven tosses a pout at Terra, who’s uncharacteristically quiet in the vicinity of savory food, but Terra gives back a reassuring smile. It’s dimmer than he wants it to be, and Ven’s smart enough to notice it, but he says nothing. 

The rest of the evening passes with pleasant conversations, as it goes:

They have never found a good enough reason to talk about anything else. Why bring the darkness back inside when they make a habit of lighting all the lamps at night?

In every case when one of them is ready to talk, they lock up. Swallow. Cough. Next question.

Pleasantness has its tremendous advantages, as it reminds them the worth of being alive: the warmth of drinking this wonderful soup together, the joy of sharing a joke, the thrill of panicking over the thought that Ven could catch Terra and Aqua in the middle of a compromising position. 

They belong together, the three of them. Wayfinders were specifically made for that pact, and that’s something Terra would never trade anything for... he just wants something more from Aqua, and that shouldn’t break the delicate balance between the three. It shouldn’t, and maybe he’s still naive to think that way.

When the evening sweeps into night, Terra falls into a slightly different dance with Aqua. Lingering looks across the hall, right over Ven’s head, followed by nervous chuckles, with the grand finale of never whispering about what they would do before bed (if they’re going to bed together at all).

And when Ven finally retires to sleep, it’s just the two of them, with nothing left except to improvise. 

Nothing in their timid conversations gives Terra the right opening to bring the subject up. 

He’s ready to expect it’s just him and his hand tonight when Aqua holds his wrist to keep him from returning to his room alone. 

“Do you want to…” Aqua hushes. She brings her hand up to brush her hair out of her face but it stops right before contact, like she’s lost the way. “Um…”

“Sleep with you?” Terra blurts out.

A shocked grin stretches across her face.

He stammers, running a hand through his hair.

There’s nothing wrong with sleeping with her - in fact, the night they came home, they all slept in the same bed, just so they didn’t have to be separated.

Terra’s being dumb - of course sleeping has a different connotation now, even between best friends. Why is it so awkward to bring it up in conversation? It was so much easier this morning when they woke up naked and could do what was natural from there.

Leaning on her door frame, bringing himself closer to her body, Terra braves what’s really on his mind. 

“I- I’ve been thinking about it all day… I want to kiss you again.”

Aqua considers him for a moment. She stands on her toes and brings her mouth to his for a small peck, for a second, for a third, longer one. 

She eyes Ven’s closed bedroom door nervously - it’d be a hell of an explanation if he catches them now. 

So Terra steps into her bedroom, barely illuminated by a single desk lamp that’s living its final days, and she closes it behind him. 

Whipping around, Aqua throws her arms around Terra’s neck, aching for a fourth kiss and so many more that neither of them can keep count. Terra squeezes her waist to his body, bending over to meld her to him while she digs into his hair.

Somehow, holding her this closely isn’t close enough. 

When Terra massages the small of her back, it rustles her sweater so that his fingers make contact with her skin. 

Aqua takes this as her cue, tugging at his shirt. She breaks contact (for an excruciating second) to pull it over his head and he responds in kind by undressing her sweater and tossing it. 

With her bare, soft, springy breasts against his chest, he tastes her lips, her tongue… They have to pant for breath in between but they can’t take the hint to pause. And yet - 

They still aren’t close enough.

Terra picks her up by her thighs, wrapping her legs around his hips to carry her. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle a laugh, and she yelps when they fall together, bouncing on her bed.

With her head against her mattress, he can now kiss her deeper. His pajamas are so thin he can feel her pelvis in every way when he thrusts and he’s dying to take them off but he doesn’t want to part from her mouth either.

They’re running fast, desperate to finish what they couldn’t from this morning, and he doesn’t know what he should do next - if he should be focusing on some area on her body, or if she’d like him to do something and he’s not understanding what she needs. 

So Terra slows down, savoring her bottom lip, bringing the whirlwind to a breeze, letting them both breathe easier. 

He grazes her jawline and she trembles when he gets to her ear, lingering at a spot he discovers really makes her shiver. She squirms like she finds his lack of speed unbearable, grinding her hips up onto his. He groans. 

She still makes a point to whisper. “On your back.”

So bossy. Terra stops to snort. “Those are fighting words.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You first,” he says, his voice rough.

“I mean it.” 

Aqua’s hands push against his shoulders, massaging every curve in his pecs, and her legs wrap around his as she makes the first attempt to roll him over.

“Terra.” Her breaths deepen when he stays in place.

“I insist.” 

He isn’t going to let her make him the focus of all her attention just yet - and they both know she’s always lost at wrestling with him. 

She tries her game anyway, lifting herself to reunite his lips with hers while they sit up.

Both options are tempting. Terra can surrender to her, melt under her touch so she can have her way, and let her think she’s won. That’s a nice fantasy… but he doesn’t like losing either.

He laughs into her smile, grabbing her wrists and bringing them over her head. He holds them together in between the thick fingers of one giant hand, and brings her weight down with his. He’s won, easily.

Then he takes his other hand to brush his fingers across one nipple, from top to bottom, while his lips find a good spot on her neck that makes her whimper. She rocks her hips with his, coaxing him into a slow, intoxicating rhythm. Her shorts are also thin, and she’s wet through the fabric. It sets him on fire, sparking from his pelvis and burning up to his chest. It’s so hard to resist her. 

“What are you doing,” he murmurs, and he feels her giggle from underneath her pulse. 

“Playing a strategy.” She gasps and tenses from his nibbling. “I think I’m winning.”

Traveling down her collarbone, Terra finds himself at her breasts, taking his first taste for the night while rolling circles on the other, eliciting a moan from her - one she keeps stifled, so she’s not too loud.

“Not yet,” he says.

“Give it time,” she says, bringing one leg to hook around Terra’s hips.

Terra growls into her skin. She’s making it difficult.

She’s winning.

“Dammit, Aqua,” he whispers into her chest before standing up, taking her shorts and panties with him before fumbling with his pants. 

Pleased with herself, Aqua rises to meet him, a hand snaking down his abdomen, playing with the tuft of hair before going lower. 

He’s weak when she strokes him, when she grabs him, when she rubs the entire length, twisting her hold. She’s a quick study, and the gooseflesh crawling all over his back slips him into a stupor. He tumbles over the bed. His pants bind him by the knees still, but they’re forgotten. 

Straddling him, Aqua settles. Slowly, too - she’s adjusting herself to him before taking him fully, and if he didn’t know any better, it feels like the sweetest, sickest comeback for teasing her so bad.

A shiver strikes through his spine when he gets warm and she gets tight. He has to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning out loud. 

Meanwhile, Aqua experiments with her movement, her angles, her speed, whether she should rock her hips back and forth. She looks good on top of him, naked and bouncing and enjoying herself, running her palms across his carved abs, feeling the ripples where his skin dips. Something about the way she leans her head back sends Terra on a high. 

His hands feel everything. He measures how her waist curves inward before following the trail out to her hips. The muscles on her thighs buck with every thrust she makes.

It doesn’t matter how she looks: with or without clothes, in bright light or in poor light, even with shadows chiseling her amazing form, none of it does her any justice. 

She’s beautiful. He’s lucky. 

The more she moves, the more he comes closer to that brink, and he’s too drunk to find the words to tell her. The best he can do is moan her name, and when she gently shushes him, it turns him on even more.

But then his heart beats too hard. It stings as sharp as a cut.

The monster with the sharp canines smiles. Snaps its jaws.

The brink will make him fall over (and never get back up again). He’ll die. No. He’ll lose control. Go to sleep. Lose her forever, all over again. 

Terra grips her hips and lifts her off of him. “No no no no,” he says, lurching up, leaning over the edge of the bed. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“Terra?”

He shudders from the heat rising to the top of his head. His hands tremble violently, and he rubs the pads of his fingers against his palms to make sure he can still feel. Gritting his teeth together, Terra takes all he has to stop himself from yelling - no need for Ven to spring out of bed and burst in here to save the day - and the effort withers Terra to exhaustion. 

Aqua holds the back of his hand - very gently, brushing her fingers first to test if he’d have a strong reaction. He realizes that he never responded to her. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Terra holds her face, stroking the worries off of her cheek with his thumb. “You were,” he swallows. Even in such dim light, her eyes keep their rich brightness. “You’re perfect.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him. A dark thought trickles in his mind, and suddenly he can’t look at her anymore - she must be so disappointed with his awful performance.

“I’m just a basket case, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t say that.” She gifts him the most generous smile, one he doesn’t understand. But that’s Aqua, never asking for something in return. 

She hugs him warmly, giving his shoulders a steady hold as if to keep him up. 

Despite how big of a man Terra is, now he is fragile, wilting into her strength. He wants to be more like her, to keep himself together. Silent tears stroll down his cheeks until they land on her bare shoulders and continue on their way.

With his palm, Terra rubs their existence off of her skin. 

A much-needed chill comes down his spine - she’s cooling him off with her magic, letting the Blizzard gently wisp off of her fingers. 

“Can you talk about it?” Letting him go, Aqua throws her feet over the edge of the bed to join him, side by side. 

Terra cannot. He stares at his knees, throwing glances at her to create words out of thin air. 

Aqua threads her hand under his arm to interlace their fingers together, resting them on his thigh. Her hand is so small in comparison, but in Terra’s opinion, it’s a perfect fit. 

“I think I have an idea of what happened,” she says when she’s waited long enough. “Even when we spar, you don’t let yourself go all the way.”

Feeling like he’s finally seen, Terra unravels. “What if I lose it and go crazy? What if I hurt you?”

She eyes him for a moment. At first she’s full of concern, but she’s the type that when she faces anything that intimidates her, she’ll find a reason to stay brave. “Then I retaliate. I’m good at that.”

It sounds like such a simple and logical answer that Terra can’t help but feel silly for never considering that she’s stronger than he is. 

Yet there’s plenty to worry about - she deserves a better lover that wouldn’t have fits in the worst of times, or threaten to kill her in the best.

“I know,” she continues when he says nothing. “It’s weird to have good things.”

Terra huffs. Drawing his voice low, he says, “Aren’t we supposed to tell ourselves that we deserve them?” She shifts uncomfortably against his arm, and he chuckles cynically. “Maybe we can hope.”

“No,” she drawls, rubbing circles on his knuckles with her thumb. “Hoping is dangerous.”

The scar on his chest is rough under the touch of his palm. Those have been the truest words he’s heard in years, and they worry him. If they continue to try again, he’ll continue to dissatisfy her, with no guarantee he could give her what she wants. 

“It feels like,” he says, “willingly jumping off a mountain.”

Aqua leans her head on his shoulder, watching the stillness of her carpet with him. It’s as dark as the deep sea. 

“It does. We’re supposed to stay optimistic, and the letdown destroys us until it numbs. And then there’s nothing left.”

“And then there’s nothing left,” Terra whispers back.

“Wishing is a little safer.” He feels her smile into his bicep. 

“That’s more like willingly drowning yourself.”

“Taking one swallow isn’t too bad by comparison,” she says, squeezing his hand harder. Her cheek trembles, and her eyes dart back and forth across the room. She’s chipping again. “Can I make one wish?”

“Of course.”

It takes quite a moment before she speaks again, and all he hears is her ragged breathing. It almost sounds like she’s about to cry, but she doesn’t. She’s a miracle.

“I wish for a good night’s sleep. I wish you’d stay in bed with me. I wish for more time with you, and… I wish you’d come back tomorrow night. Or maybe I could go to your room. Either way, I don’t want us to stop.”

Since he’s been expecting her to wish him away, Terra chokes on a sob. He wants the same, and he wants to say it, and he wants to kiss her again but he’s shocked. If he slips one word, he’ll fall apart and she’ll have to carry him all over again.  

He squeezes her hand back, and all the tears wanting to pour out of his eyes find their place in the strength of his grip, and they stay dry. 

As though she understands what he’s not saying, she smiles. “It’s a journey, just like everything else, right? I think there’s every reason to step off that cliff, and I want to be there with you when we do.”

Terra sits with her words, comfortable in the quiet. It’s not like they had a teacher to coax them in the right direction about the art of tumbling in bed. In the privacy of his mind, he can pretend the reason she’s willing to be patient is because she loves him, too. 

“I needed to hear that,” he says, his pajamas slipping off of his ankles. He’s completely exposed but his skin is just the outer shell. The fact his soul has been heard is the most naked he’s ever been. “I’m impressed.” 

Aqua holds her breath. “You’re impressed? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He stifles his snickering but it only makes it harder not to laugh. 

“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” she says, giving him a playful shove. “I know I put my foot in my mouth, sometimes.” 

“Sometimes.” 

“Which means I’m sensible other times.” She holds up a finger to make a point.

Terra lifts the hand he’s holding and kisses the back of it. She’s still so much like the girl who glared at him when he slurped his tea. “Whatever you say, I’ll play along.”

She shoves him harder and finds herself in his clutches, under threat of unbearable tickling. She locks her laughter up so hard that it slips out in squeaks. Without her magic, she’s completely futile against his ferociously giant hands. She admits defeat when they fall on their backs. 

Now they rest, and she’s finally close enough, their bodies locking warmth in between.

They whisper good night through soft, innocent kisses. Aqua finds refuge on his shoulder while her arms go limp on his thick waist, one leg tucked in between his, burrowing her body into his. Every time she drifts in and out and remembers that he’s with her, she inches closer.

How she wants to be near him this much blows his mind. He tells himself he’ll get used to it. 

Her breathing slows as he rubs circles on her back, and soon enough, she’s asleep, like she knows nothing except a world without nightmares or shadows. 

It’s been a long time since he’s thought about when they first started sparring - how they paused before striking, how they confused a cue for another and hit each other when they weren’t supposed to, how they bickered and teased when the course of the game adjusted to their skill level. They didn’t know what they were doing then.

Last night, she gave him the benefit of the doubt, too, telling him all they need is practice. 

Now’s the perfect time than ever - Terra whispers into her hair until he finds it easier to say, knowing she won’t hear him until he’s ready to face her.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I SWEAR this will end happily. I swear it. To be continued.

[hes-writer]

I'm the anon who wrote about the reality-AU ask.

And I have a different view from what you wrote, because for me there where 2 major things:

1. Reader wasn't a strong woman

2. Harry was definitely an arrogant, selfish prick to reader.

I will start with 1.

So, what moral and values? I honestly don't understand that part because for me moral and values mean one thing and I don't see they fitting the situation.

Regardless, MC wasn't a strong woman for several reasons.

She allowed her pain get in the way of her child's life several times, she literally got with the first guy that showed her love when she wasn't ready nor emotionally stable, if we take in mind that she met him at halfway through her pregnancy and in 2 years ish she was already living with him and allowing her child to call him "dad". So she clinged to Connor as a substitute and staple to the family she had planned having with Harry, just like Harry clinged to Camille's offer as a way to have what he dreamed having with Y/N. None of them put their child's best interest first, otherwise she would have found a way to deal with her pain while allowing him to be part of Halo's life and he would have found a way to accept that he would never have what he wanted bc of his mistakes in the past.

And the clearest sign of that is her conversation with Harry in the last chapter. She did love Connor, but he was only there because Harry blocked her. If he hadn't, he'd have seen the text and be involved in his kids life. So, I know you said something about being emotionally available as a parent and that's my argument for that. Harry wasn't emotionally a dad bc that chance was taken from him out of spitefulness and he still tried to be there, he made a mistake but he never gave up. He was robbed of it countless times bc MC was never healed properly to let go of her personal feelings and focus on Halo, bc I can guarantee you that if given the chance, Halo would forget it and choose to have a relationship with Harry.

Which brings me to my previous point... He wasn't Halos dad, MC made him her dad because she didn't want to deal with Harry when she knew that he had a right to at least be informed about the baby, regardless of her relationship with him. In the story you make it known that he blocked her and that's how she couldn't tell him, but she kept in touch with his family + he contacted her at some point. So, she uses her own actions against him and he let's her out of guilty, showing a bit of manipulation from her side. Both of them were toxic and manipulative. Just bc you were hurt, doesn't give you a right to act as you please, speacially when a child is involved. That shouldn't even be put to argument and I'd have agreed with you more if you hadn't tried to classify MC as a victim at all costs, even when she was the wrong one.

If this was real life, a girl behaving like her would be concerning, so why in a fanfic she's considered strong? Because she standed up for herself and for her daughter? I mean, did she truly stand up for her child? Can we truly say that? Or did she allow her own barriers and insecurities surround them and keep Harry distant? Wouldn't a healed and strong woman be capable of dealing with her ex for their's daughter sake, speacially when she's in a happy and healthy relationship?

Parents are allowed mistakes. None of them know what they're doing and the greatest majority of the world is filled with people who weren't mature enough to be parents, yet somehow were allowed to.

She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry for all the pain he caused her.

He left her, so she didn't tell him about their baby, then when he found out she monopolised his entire relationship with his daughter and did some pretty illegal stuff, and when he committed his first mistake with the child she cut him off completely without taking in account what her daughter wanted.

Have you watched the show The Duchess on Netflix? I think its a great example of my point here, in case you don't understand it.

Also, forgot to say that she was toxic again when she kept threatening him over wanting to be with his kid. Like, we spend tons of times telling people to be responsible with their art, as it can be a door into introducing kids to things. We also spend a ton of time telling boys that they should care about their babies and be there for them. Then you come and write a fic where the guy gets threatened and manipulated when trying to be with his 🤷🏻‍♀️

MC definitely had her right to commit her own mistakes, as I said, parents will do it countless times. But I think that's a bit unfair that she gets as many as she wants bc she got hurt previous to baby being born, yet Harry barely gets one when trying to figure himself out after finding out about his kid. You mentioned that a judge would never give Harry any custody bc of what he did and that was a bit dumb, sorry. Law is based on justice, balance and protecting the victim with fairness and justice, therefore Harry would have been granted at least the benefit of the doubt as his mistakes were minor and the victim in this story is Halo, not MC✌🏽

This is a long one.

Morals and values are not fitting in the situation.

Morals are personal beliefs that a person upholds and values are something that are regarded as important. I think that everybody uses them in most of the things they do so they definitely fit the situation.

She literally got with the first guy that showed her love...

I wouldn’t say that MC clung unto Connor and got into a relationship with him right away. The first couple of instances—they were just friends and weren’t officially together until Reign.

None of them put their child’s best interest first // Reader wasn’t a strong woman

I agree that both parties didn’t act on the best interest of their child but that doesn’t necessarily mean that MC wasn’t a strong woman. Sure, she wasn’t ideal in the context of being a mother—but she mended herself enough to give Harry a chance when he found out, even setting up limits while she was at it.

Wouldn’t you think that that takes courage? Besides the preceding fact that it is courteous to tell someone that you’re having their baby (no argument there), especially to someone who has cheated and betrayed your trust, you are sweeping the pain away. MC was letting Harry back in even if she personally didn’t want to. Harry was a huge part of her life so I think reminiscing on their relationship would never cease; they have a kid together. All the good and bad of their time together will always be present in her mind.

Harry was robbed [of being a dad]

You think that Harry was robbed of being a Dad, I can’t convince you otherwise. You said it yourself though, ‘if Harry hadn’t blocked MC, he would’ve seen the text and he would’ve been a dad to Halo’.

But he did—and the following points of your argument are, in a sense, irrelevant because what you’re pointing out is what could’ve happened if Harry didn’t do what he did. These are the consequences of his actions. “He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,” <- That scene was the turning point of MC’s decision and frankly, a showcase of Harry’s immaturity. MC said she had something to tell him and he retaliated by blocking her.

As well, you mention, ‘if given the chance, Halo would forget about it’—there’s a lot of assumptions in your argument because these aren’t part of the original story. These are what you think should’ve happened.

He blocked her [...] but she kept in touch with his family

MC kept in touch with his family on the pretext that they wouldn't inform harry that the baby was his. This was because of a misunderstanding due to a post on Camille's IG page. H seemed happy with his new relationship. MC didn't NOT tell him out of SPITE—it was because she didn't want to ruin his relationship with Camille.

Harry contacted her at some point // Just because you’re hurt doesn’t give you the right to act as you please

Yes, Harry did contact her—to call her a ‘whore’ and stated that she ‘probably slept around’ during their relationship. [ie. Harry: Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?”] I’m guessing that’s probably not the best way for H to ask about MC’s pregnancy and I can imagine that the sheer rudeness and projection will deter most people.

His dialogues were an attack on her personality (that she was a liar and disloyal), on the validity of her emotions (that she was faking them), and on her identity as woman solely because he was crumbling under the truth that he was the one who messed up. I mentioned before that Harry’s insults were a projection as a result of his defence mechanism. Meaning that he was—to some extent—aware that MC hadn’t cheated but convinced himself otherwise to feel less guilty. Therefore, at the end of Halo, he judged the credibility of their child.

If this was real life...

And this is a fanfiction.

Once again, MC might not have been the ideal representation of a strong woman, but she stepped up when Halo was introduced.

Imagine going through a break-up with your SO of two years while you’re pregnant because he went behind your back FOR A YEAR, amidst hormonal changes, still going to work, and trying to find yourself when someone has taken so much of you—that’s traumatizing. Healing isn’t linear. Just because you’re wounded doesn’t mean that you’re not strong.

She was unfair and subconsciously used her child to get back at Harry

MC was honest but she wasn’t truthful. Her intentions were human nature yet keeping Halo away from Harry wasn’t very truthful of her—in legalities and such.

I don’t think MC monopolized H/H’s relationship. She gave Harry a chance to bond with Halo, and they did. As mentioned, MC had set limits and boundaries when discussing Harry’s presence in their daughters’ life. It was a legally binding, word-of-mouth, agreement that Harry assented to.

[he was] threatened and manipulated

In that sense, Harry’s hostility towards MC in Reign was threatening her decision to have him around [ie. You’re not something I would take the time to handle,” // You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’]

I understand your concern and I apologize for that. I’m not explicitly saying that this one piece of fiction is satirical in the sense that it’s the opposite of what society chants because that would be vile of me to do. Every circumstance is different though—it really is a choice of preference, validation and weighing out the subject matter.

You mentioned that a ‘judge would never give Harry custody’ and that was a bit dumb...

That line was never part of the story.

"Take it up legally if you'd like. Want to have a custody battle? Bring it on. Let's see whose side the judge is on after they find out that you cheated on me while I was pregnant with Halo."

Suggesting that the conclusion can be one of shared-custody wherein MC has more time with Halo (80/20 visitation schedule).

[solaneceae]

Stars

Dave wakes up in the jungle. AU where Mateo got out of the plane with the other two, because frick u QCODE my boy deserves better than this and i will NOT accept he’s dead until i see a body-

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035054/chapters/50876287

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

A comforting warmth surrounding him. Something soft cushioning his oh-so heavy body. An earthy, grassy scent filling up his nostrils.

Dave blinked into awareness slowly, like he was being dragged out of a quagmire. He was greeted with mostly darkness, though he could start to make out a mess of intertwined wood and large, glossy leaves above him. He was laying on his back on a mass of long, lush grass, his face and fingertips tingling with lingering sleep, in the very same position he’d fallen asleep the previous… evening?

For a second he felt disoriented, a jolt of panic making his breath hitch; but then he remembered.

They had made it. All three of them. They’d finally found the Whale, and those strange tribesmen, the Morandi.

For now at least, they were safe.

“Dave? Holy shit, you’re awake!”

Dave rolled his head to the side; Mateo was sitting next to him, his back propped against one of the support beams of the shelter. He felt his heart swell at the sight; Mateo was here. He wasn’t alone.

He noticed his friend’s arm had been dressed in clean, off-white bandages, reminding the smaller man of the dozen or so cuts he’d caught sight of back on the boat, and he was hit with a rush of pride and admiration -and only the slightest pang of guilt and worry- for his long-time partner; god, Mateo really had gone above and beyond to fly them all the way here. The tall male definitely looked better than he had back then, which Dave was grateful for.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear out his vision; ew, crusty. “ ‘teo… where’s Linda?”

“She’s fine, woke up a lil’ while ago. Went to talk to the old man, try to get some more answers out of him. How you feelin’?

Dave considered the question silently, assessing his current state. “Mmh. Sluggish. Like my body’s made of lead. And… kinda loopy. What time is it?”

“Dunno. Late. Early. My phone and watch died back in the plane.”

Mateo looked up; as he followed his friend’s gaze, Dave noticed an opening in the roof of the shelter, letting in pale rays of moonlight. The night sky was a pitch black, an inky darkness home to hundreds and hundreds of stars. They ranged from pale yellow to bluish white, shining bright and strong and unperturbed by any light pollution; a far cry from the California sky the night guard was so accustomed to.

“ ‘bout one or two in the morning maybe?” Mateo mused aloud, stirring him out of his reverie. Dave sighed; the sun had been setting when they’d conked out. “Shit. No wonder I’m still tired.”

“Dude. It’s Sunday. We slept through last night and the whole day after that.”

Dave’s eyes widened in shock.“Wh- What? We’ve been asleep for more than a day? How?!”

“After three days without any shut-eye it ain’t that surprisin’ to me,” Mateo shrugged. “Also Linda said somethin’ about the meds we took messing with our brain or some shit?”

Dave groaned, trying to pull himself up into a sitting position; but he was struck by a sudden dizziness and his trembling arms buckled under his own weight.

“Wow, hey!” Mateo caught him before his back could hit the ground, gently supporting his head to lay it down in his own lap. “Don’t move too fast. You haven’t eaten anything since we left California, if you try and get up you’re just gonna pass out again.”

Ah. That would explain the slight nausea and steady rocking of the ground under him. The former night guard breathed in slowly, letting the sudden discomfort fade before gratefully peering up at Mateo. “Sorry…were you waiting for me?”

“Duh. Gotta watch over our local dream warrior, right?”

Dave groaned at that, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh my god, don’t.”

“What? It’s true, isn’t it? Those guys over there,” the latino gestured at the other side of the clearing, where a few tribesmen were conversing quietly, “said they’d been waiting for you. Specifically you, Dave. I mean shit, there’s obviously something going on with you.”

“No there isn’t! Why the fuck would it?”

“Oh, I can think of a few reasons. You survived after falling asleep, twice.”

“You woke me up the first time-”

“You,” Mateo continued, all but ignoring Dave’s protests, “had scars all over your chest, and now they’re gone. That’s not a thing that happens, scars don’t just magic out of existence.” He waved his hands around in bewilderment. “And to top it all off you went all oracle on us, right before this shitshow went down. You told us about the whale, you told us where we needed to go!”

Dave shook his head in denial. His hair rubbed against the fabric of Mateo’s pant leg. “Wasn’t me. The old man did it. Robbie was the one who came into my dreams. I would’ve-”

His breath hitched. He remembered the torture he went through in that desert. The thirst. The despair. The insanity. “I- I would’ve died like everyone else if he hadn’t come.”

Mateo sighed. “Maybe. But he came to you, Dave. Out of the millions of people who’d been asleep at the time, you were the only one who saw him.”

A second of silence. Dave slid his hands down his face, peering up at his friend with confusion. “How do you know this?”

“Robbie told us. Me and Linda.” Mateo said, looking down at him with a curious look on his face. It looked suspiciously like awe.

Dave hated that look. It made him feel like the world was pressing down on his ribcage.

“He said… something about reaching out. Spreading the warning to the world.” Mateo continued, unaware of his partner’s inner turmoil. “Nobody outside the tribe responded, Dave. Except you.”

He let Mateo’s words sink in for a few seconds, his face twisting into a sorrowful grimace. The implications of those words were far too daunting, too terrifying to consider. He didn’t want this. He never wanted this. He didn’t need supernatural bullshit sprinkled on top of the already massive pile of issues that was his life.

“Listen…” he breathed out, his baritone on the verge of breaking, “I… I know, okay? I’m not an idiot. I know I’m… involved in this mess, for some fucking reason.”

He grabbed Mateo’s sleeve, something desperate flickering in his warm brown eyes. “I know I’m probably about to- to learn some stuff here. About myself. And that shit… that shit’s terrifying. So…”

Mateo stayed silent, attentive. Dave was grateful for that.

“So…” he took a deep breath. “Can we hold off on that? Can I just be a normal dude for just a little longer? Just Dave, local insomniac and night guard at DeckSalont. That’s me. Just your friend. Please?”

For a few seconds, only the sound of the wind blowing through the jungle answered him. Then Mateo rolled his eyes with a huff.

“Okay. Okay, Davie. I gotcha.” the latino relented, gently patting the smaller man’s hair draped on his thigh. “Linda and the old guy should come back soon anyway. They’ll be glad to see you’re up, they were getting worried.

“What about you?”

“What?”

“How are you taking all this? This whole time you and Linda have been worrying about me, but what about you?

Mateo blinked, then snorted humorlessly. “Man, I don’t even know anymore.” He shook his head, eyes clouding over in confusion. “Everything feels so… unreal. I guess it didn’t really sink in yet.”

Dave felt a pang of sympathy for his friend; he remembered the latino’s worried glances at his phone back in Cali. His dismissive attitude when Dave had asked about his family.

Everyone’s dead, Dave thought to himself, testing out the concept in his mind. Everyone’s dead. How could the human mind comprehend this without breaking? Were they even capable of truly comprehending that the three of them, save for the strange tribe that had taken them in, were probably the last living people on Earth?

“Mateo… I’m so sorry.” he said quietly, peering up at the taller male. Mateo Leon, veteran, pilot, and god damn hero for flying them all the way here. His best friend, and partner.

Dave’s chest seized; he was starting to understand how precious he and Linda were to him. Without them, he’d be completely and utterly alone, even among the tribesmen scattered in the jungle.

Mateo waved him off. “Don’t be. We all lost a lot these past few days, if not everything.” He chuckled, rubbing his face in his hands. “S’all too fucked up, we're too fucked up at this point.”

Linda’s face came to the forefront of Dave’s mind. Her striking green eyes, the way her nose would scrunch up whenever she was annoyed. Her airy laughter. Her blinding smile.

He shook his head, biting back a mournful sigh. “I know. Still, you’re my friend, I care about you. I- fuck man, I don’t wanna lose you too.”

“You won’t!” Mateo asserted, flashing him a cocky smile. “You won’t, y’hear me? I’m a vet, I can deal with some tough shit. Those spirit things? Let ‘em come at us, I’ll fuck ‘em up.”

Dave blinked, taken aback by the sudden mood whiplash. Then let out a chuckle, almost immediately followed by a yawn. Jesus, he still felt drowsy. How was he still drowsy?

“Dude, are you serious. Wasn’t a whole day enough?” his partner asked him incredulously.

Dave shifted into a more comfortable position, the edge of his vision blurring and darkening every second that passed. “Just…” he mumbled, “You’re fuckin’ comfy, okay? Anyone ever told you that?”

Mateo let out a fake, overdramatic sigh. “Fine then, you lazy fuck. Ya can snooze a lil’ bit more. But I’m waking you up when the others come back, got it? Linda said she’d change our bandages, and you need some food in you. Like, badly.”

Dave hummed noncommittally, eyelids already drooping close. He let out a relieved sigh as he curled up against his friend, relishing in the warm feeling of Mateo’s thigh under his head and his hand on his shoulder. “Mh. Thanks, buddy.” he murmured drowsily, before letting sleep overtake him once more.

Just a little longer. Let things be normal again. For just a little longer.

-------

thanks @believeinasmilinggodtoday for the prompt! i kinda deviated from it, but it helped me get it out :D @caustic-synishade @teosbc @thepurple-n @shrinkthisviolet @mother-dweller

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (VIII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: I hope I gave this chapter enough build-up. Bit of a different perspective, too. Hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter VIII - Golden Trunks

Alex threw his coat over his shoulders tiredly. He had to deal with the aftermath of the unravelled fraud committed in his own hotel, and it wasn’t something he was looking particularly forward to. Though he had good connections with the city’s chief policeman James Ford, the strenuous investigation and the stack of paperwork it would entail was something they both dreaded.

He’d asked Matt to taxi him, because he simply hadn’t slept well enough to trust himself to drive properly. It had been this way for months on end now, and he knew it was as a result of the stress he’d been dealing with. Whatever the doctor had given him didn’t work, so he’d always end up spending the nights on his balcony with a smoke and a glass of his favourite whiskey. What he wouldn’t do for one of those right now.

“Heading off again?”

She was leaning against the doorway, looking charming as ever. “We missed you during breakfast.”

“Considering Jamie’s blood pressure, I don’t think I was missed all that much, love,” he replied with a small smile. “I’m headed off to the city. I still have some business with the police to handle.”

“Have fun with that.”

He hummed, “If I’m at the brink of being bored to death, I’ll just remember I still have a guest I need to keep my eye on before she ruins my good reputation.”

“Did you just admit to fantasizing about me, mister Turner?”

He laughed, before hearing the honk of the Cadillac echoing through the lobby. “I hope to see you at lunch, writer.” He closed the final button of his coat before stepping out the front doors.

“You didn’t answer my question!” he heard her call after him. He left with a feeling of boyish giddiness, and he wasn’t quite sure what to think of it.

 His trip to and from the police office had left him more tired than he wanted to admit, and it had taken up more time of his day than expected. It wasn’t until dinner that he was able to join his guest and staff for his first proper meal of the day. He scolded himself, knowing what his mother would’ve said to him if she saw him like this.

The dining hall appeared to be more dimly lit than usual and he wanted to ask Nick about it, but when he saw him carelessly conversing with Jamie at the table, his conscience decided against it. He knew how hard Nick had been working the past few weeks.

They all greeted him with cautionary smiles and hellos, which he’d gotten used to over the past few years. Previous events had led him to be stricter about certain things and he knew very well that it had put a strain on their friendship. Part of him missed the old days, but he realized it was better this way. If the hotel did ever go bankrupt, they’d blame him, and they would be right to do so. For if they didn’t blame him, they’d blame themselves, and he wanted to prevent that at all costs.

She was sitting next to him, and as the predominant conversation the guys were having was able to drown out anything else, she muttered, “I thought we’d be seeing you at lunch, mister Turner?”

“My apologies, love. Business took me longer than expected,” he disclosed softly, “I hope my staff kept you entertained?”

“I’m very capable of keeping myself entertained, mister Turner. I don’t need your staff to manage.” She had a devious twinkle in her eyes, which made him smirk. “Luckily you don’t,” he replied, “all they’re good at is getting you into trouble.”

“Speaking of trouble-“ She pulled a newspaper from her bag and slid it over to him, which quieted down everyone at the table. Alex’ eyes sleekly scanned over the headline.

‘The Grand Tranquility Hotel: A blissful sanctuary with the most charming personnel - and owner.”

The other men at the table seemed to be waiting warily for his response, clearly already having been informed of the whole ordeal. When Alex blankly kept rereading it a dozen times over, feeling a numbness settle over him, Nick decided to speak up; “The article was very well-received, Alex. I’ve had more bookings for the next holiday than we’ve had all summer.”

“I think this might have saved us, Al,” Matt added, his hand grasping his shoulder supportively.

He finally managed to look up at her. “How did you do it?” He asked, his brow set in a deep furrow.

“Do what?”

“How did you manage to make it to the front paper?”

“I pulled some connections,” she replied with a small smile.

He blinked. It didn’t make any sense to him. Connections? How did she get it in the paper so soon? When had she been planning this?

“But, why?” When she gave him a look of confusion, he elaborated, “You owe nothing to this hotel. Your mother had a history here, sure. But your stay here hasn’t been relaxing for you in the slightest. Why help us?”

“Unlike your previous presumptions, mister Turner, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I simply want to see good people succeed in life, like my mother used to.”

Dinner was continued with the tension having been relieved completely. He stole long looks at her as they ate, and it was everything about her that suddenly seemed to intrigue him beyond words. How someone could be so utterly pure with their intentions, he didn’t know. It bewildered him to an immense extent and he suddenly felt very unworthy of all the things she’d done for them over the small amount of time she’d known them.

When they were done, he asked if he could walk her back to her room. She said yes.

“You never answered my question,” she commented, having arrived before the pristine white door of room 521. He gave her a look that told her he wasn’t sure what she was talking about, and she gave him a knowing smile. She stepped closer to him and he felt a warmth filling his chest in a pleasant way. Her gentle breath sent a tingling sensation along his spine when it reached his ear. “I’ll be upfront, mister Turner. Sometimes I fantasize about you, too.”

 He awoke with a start, and Matt gave him a look through the rear-view mirror. He’d fallen asleep in the car after visiting the police station. He’d dreamt it all and wanted nothing more than to hit his head against the door of the car repeatedly.

Because finally, he realized what this incessant gut feeling had been at the hands of some laughable dream. This writer, who he was ever so cautious with, who gave him stress to no relief and made him beyond distracted of everything around him, had managed to sulk into his deeply barricaded heart when he’d done so much to prevent it from happening.

It wasn’t just the day she’d arrived, where he had told Matt to take care of everything because it was just one guest. Because all hotel owners know that having just one guest can have more impact on a hotel than a fully booked one ever could. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d pushed her away every time she tried to bring up her idea for her book because no one should ever know what really happened.

It had all started with her mother’s visit. The time it was off-season, and she was the only visitor.

She had called him a charming young man. “You should meet my girl,” she’d said, “She would fall in love with you in a heartbeat.” He’d gracefully declined the offer, of course. But now, suddenly knowing who this beautiful and intriguing woman turned out to be, he felt as if he’d made the biggest mistake not having accepted her mother’s good-humoured invite.

 He thanked Matt as he stepped out of the car, before hurriedly making his way inside in search of the writer he was so giddy to see. He found her in the library, curled up with the same romance novel they’d bantered over not days before. “Welcome back,” she smiled, “Would you care to go on a walk with me?” And he was glad to finally be able to accompany her.

The drowning noise of the fountain seemed to derive him of some of his anxiousness and he deeply breathed in the fresh evening air. It was a poor attempt at finding his courage, which he was so deeply in search of these days.

“Who was the architect of the building, if I may ask?” she wondered, stopping for a brief moment with him to look up at the structure. He huffed, “A substantial question. But not the one you’ve evidently been meaning to ask for a long time.”

She looked back at him, and he inspected her face. He had almost second guessed his current decision, if it hadn’t been for the way her eyes lit up with an intimate intrigue. He held out his arm to her in a silent invite, which she took gracefully. Leading her down the illuminated driveway towards the treeline as the gravel cracked beneath their feet, he started by finally telling the truth.

“I think you remember that picture I showed you with your mother in it.” She nodded expectantly. “You recall the staff member in between Jamie and Matt? He used to be one of my best mates in high school, too. His name was Andy Nicholson. And he was probably the base of everything I worked on that had to do with the hotel.

He was the one to introduce me to this girl. She was as pretty as she was smart, and it was as if she had fallen from the sky because it so happened to be that she’d always wanted to work in a hotel. During her first interview, she told me how much she’d always been in awe of The Grand Tranquility and how it would give her a lifetime of happiness if she could get employment here. I didn’t think much of her at the time, but Andy had put in a good word for her, so I hired her in a whim. We had lots of staff at the time, so it wasn’t uncommon to hire someone new on a trial period.”

“Was she good at her job?” she asked in interest.

“She was, which is why I never saw a fault in her. She was a hard worker and never seemed to have any ill intent, towards guests nor other staff members. Everyone loved her, and I quickly became infatuated.”

He swallowed and she could tell he was struggling to continue. She slid her hand down his arm to cautiously interlock her fingers with his, which he responded to agreeably.

“It lasted for a long time,” he admitted, “And I would have done anything for her. It wasn’t until Andy suddenly started asking questions that I became suspicious. And not towards her, either. I was wondering what my best friend, who had introduced the two of us, was doing asking ridiculous questions and making assumptions about her that I was certain weren’t true. We argued about it, more than once, until he finally told me that I should fire her because he knew something was up with her. And I fucking sacked him instead. Because I didn’t want anyone talking about someone I truly loved like that.”

“Oh, Alex…” she sighed, halting him to a stop and squeezing his hand in comfort.

“He turned out to be right in the end. She’d been committing fraud the entire time we were together, and stole practically all of our funds. We had no evidence since she was smart enough to leave no traces and had fled the country by the time we found out.”

“It’s not your fault. Whatever drove you so far to put your friendship on the line, that’s all on her. I’m sure Andy understands that?”

He huffed, “I haven’t had the guts to contact him.”

“Then maybe that would be a step in the right direction?” she implied carefully.

His lip managed to form into an amused grin, despite the situation. “You don’t cease to amaze me, writer. I’ve just told you my biggest secret and you’re still sympathizing with me.”

“Well, let’s just say I like you better when you open up to me than when you’re shouting at me.”

His gaze softened. “I’m sorry, truly. I’d take everything back if I could.”

“Don’t be. You had your reasons to be cautious and now I see them more clearly.”

Her eyes flickered in the shimmering light of the yellowish bulbs hanging from the trees, and it made the colour in them so much more vibrant to him. He felt himself leaning closer to her, his arm sliding around the low of her back to diminish the space between them until finally, their lips touched, and electricity sparked. She closed her eyes and caressed a hand over his cheek, melting into his warm embrace like chocolate in a cup of steaming milk.

He moaned softly against her and it lit up everything inside her while he deepened their kiss, wanting to taste and feel every part of her until they ran out of breath. They held each other close, as if either letting the other know they felt comfortable with whatever it was between them.

“I’m putting my trust in you, writer,” he murmured against her lips, his glazy eyes not once breaking contact with hers, “Something I don’t do very often anymore.”

She nodded breathlessly, running her fingers through his soft hair. “I would never do anything to hurt you, Alex. I promise.”

[boat-dock]

“Knowing You is for the Better” Chapter 9

sorry this took so long online schooling is kinda ruining my life right now

Hope was good on her promise, she always is, a week later she left New Orleans and headed back to school. Nik was so inconsolable that the only way they could get him to let go of Hope’s leg was to promise they could all go up to visit for family day at the end of the month. She drove through the night, drifting in and out of sleep in the backseat of a black SUV with tinted everything. Her family was in the wind again, everyone going in their own directions, Freya and Keelin stayed in Louisiana, Kol and Davina went back to the west coast, Rebekah and Marcel disappeared off to Vienna and Hope back to Mystic Falls. 

She arrived at the school at an ungodly hour, it was either very late at night or insanely early in the morning. It was dark and quiet, no one met her, everyone else was asleep as she made her way through the still hallways, dragging her luggage to her room. The travel exhausted her and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

Her dreams were filled with swirls of magic and faces she almost recognized just at the edge of her vision, everything was disorienting and always just out of reach. She felt like she was falling 

Her door slammed open just as the sun was starting to shine in through the windows and she jolted awake. Lizzie stood there still dressed in pajamas but otherwise very awake, with her hands on her hips. Hope watched her with blurry vision as the blonde scanned her entire room,” I thought she’d be with you,” she stated, a hint of worry in her voice

“Hello to you too,” Hope groaned sitting up,” and who?” she asked groggily, running her hands through her hair. 

“Josie of course,” Lizzie stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was but it was way too early for Hope to form any kind of coherent thought.” She was gone when I woke up, bed hasn’t been slept in, mom and dad are kinda freaking out,” 

That woke her up. It was decidedly un Josie like to stay out all night but it had been known to happen,” Is she seeing anyone?” the words bitter in her mouth, they tasted like lead and smoke. The incredulous look on Lizzie’s face was worth a million dollars and under different situations, Hope would’ve enjoyed it,” Well she used to stay the night with Penelope right, could that be what’s happening now,” 

“Ew gross,” Lizzie spit,” No way. Look I’m the first person to support my sister’s sex life, the hobbit excluded, but trust me I know where her head is right now and that is not it,” she seemed sincere in a Lizzie way. 

Everything was still packed so Hope dug through her bags to find clothes,” geez I was just asking,” she stepped into her closet and shut the door mostly so she could change in private,” No way in hell I’m going to class today, so tell your parents to stop freaking out, I’ll go find Jo,” the goal here was to keep everyone calm, Josie was very capable and her family knew that. Hope knew it too, and if she could find her without letting everyone else blow this out of proportion then it would be ok. 

Lizzie calmed down and agreed to pass on the message before disappearing to let Hope finish getting ready in peace. It would have been easy to just do a locator spell, but instead, she found herself wandering the halls looking for Josie and smiling at the other students she hadn’t seen in ages. She went to all of Josie’s favorite spots, her corner in the library, the window seat in the kitchen, the empty classroom where the seniors keep their stash of liquor (that might be more of Lizzie’s favorite spot). She ends up walking through the woods heading towards the clubhouse, the school bell signaling the start of classes ringing behind her. 

The clubhouse is more rundown than Hope remembered, it’s wood was degraded and there was trash scattered around like everyone had a party but no one cleaned up. There was a beige couch pushed against one of the back walls, that’s where she found Josie. Asleep, her body contorted under a blanket and her dark hair covering her face. She laughed to herself and moved closer till she could gently nudge the younger girl trying to wake her. 

Josie shifted but didn’t wake,” Hey Jo,” she whispered, moving her hair from her face. Her eyes drifted open and she looked confused for a moment, then they went wide and she bolted up throwing her arms around Hope.

“Oh my god, you’re here,” she exclaimed, pulling the tribriad closer. Hope melted into her embrace taking in the smell of her and the feel of her, just Josie’s presence was overwhelming. She had to fight against her wolf nature, her eyes nearly flashed golden, but she couldn’t let herself go down that road. Josie wasn’t hers, no matter how much she wished she was. “When did you get back?” 

“Insanely early this morning,” Hope answered then immediately turned the attention back to Josie,” What are you doing out here Jo?” 

The siphoner glanced around like she hadn’t realized where she was until Hope pointed it out,” oh, I came out here last night to clear my head cause I couldn’t sleep, but I must have dozed off,” 

Hope tried to block out all of the noises and smells around her, with her heightened senses everything was intense and loud, she could hear birds, insects, running water and heartbeats all the time. She forced herself to focus on Josie, this whole sleeping thing seemed to be a recurring problem,” so does the not being able to sleep thing happen a lot?” 

“Recently yeah,” Josie looked down,” I’ve been having nightmares,” 

“Do you want to talk about them?” Hope asked, taking a seat next to her on the couch. She wanted to give her space but she was being drawn to the younger girl. 

“No, not really,” Josie moved closer, draping the blanket over Hope so they were sharing it. She leaned against her, obviously exhausted from a lack of sleep,” I just wish they would stop,” she sighed.

She didn’t know how to help her not knowing what the dreams were about, but she wouldn’t force Josie to talk about it if she wasn’t ready, so she did the only other thing she could,” well when you can’t sleep my door is always open.” 

She was met with a small smile,” thank you that means so much,” Josie’s sincerity always touched Hope, she just couldn’t resist it. Josie snapped out of whatever bubble encompassed them,” What time is it?” she asked blinking. 

“Oh, you definitely missed first hour,” she joked, causing Josie to groan and throw her head back. 

“God we better go,” Josie said, grabbing Hope’s hand and dragging her back to school. 

Josie started joining Hope in her room most nights, sometimes they talked sometimes they didn’t, but the night always ended in them holding each other as they slept. Lizzie hadn’t mentioned it, Hope wasn’t even sure if she noticed but either way she wasn’t complaining. 

Every time she looked at Josie she felt like her heart was going to beat out her chest, she was barely keeping it together. Never had she imagined that she was going to be head over heels for her best friend who was basically living with her, and completely unable to tell her how she felt. She and Josie had never been closer, mentally and physically, they were together all the time, talking, sharing, and touching. It was the small innocent, light touches that drove Hope out of her mind, and Josie had absolutely no clue what she was doing to her every time they brushed shoulders or held hands. 

One night Josie didn’t come, it wasn’t uncommon, she still spent the night with her sister in their room sometimes, but Hope was left alone. She laid awake in her suddenly way too empty bed, unable to sleep. The hours ticked by as she tossed and turned. The moon was high when a knock came on her door, Josie had stopped knocking a long time ago, but who else could it be. 

When she opened the door she found Josie on the other side clad in her matching blue pajamas and sobbing silently. The hallway was dark and still as Hope ushered the younger girl inside, tears streaming and shaking. They were both silent as they crashed together in a hug, she was holding Josie up as she closed the door behind them with her magic,” Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered offering her support . 

Slowly they made their way to the bed and curled together, Josie’s head on Hope’s chest as her sobs quieted and turned to sniffles,” No,” she answered pressing her eyes closed,” just distracted me, tell me a story,” 

Hope thought for a moment, stories running through her mind in flashes, wondering which one she could possibly tell Josie to make her feel better. None came to mind,” Does it have to be a happy story?” she asked. 

“I guess not.” 

“Well then I hope you’re ready because you’re about to get the full tragic backstory,” with anyone else the thought of opening up and revealing herself would make her want to crawl into a hole and never come out, but with Josie it was as if she’s always seen her even when Hope did her best to hide. Josie had already seen the worst of her and she hadn’t shied away. 

Josie looked at her with wide eyes, clearly shocked,” you sure?” 

Hope nodded and brought her hand to Josie’s cheek, delicately tracing her fingers over her skin, until she closed her eyes allowing Hope into her mind. There were no words that could describe the things Hope had been through, at least none that she could put together so instead she opted to show her. 

She painted the picture of a baby so hated and feared that the world wanted her dead from her first breath, of a child so loved that her family would do anything to keep her safe, of a girl who endured betrayal and deceit, and of the woman who faced everyday with her head held high despite it all. A weight was lifted as the memories flowed between them like magic and when the magic stopped Hope placed them outside a small cafe in New Orleans sitting at a table drowning in sunlight and flowers. Josie didn’t even seem to notice where they were, she just stared at Hope with a look she couldn’t place, somewhere between admiration and wonder. 

She stayed quiet to let Josie collect her thoughts, it was a lot to take in that’s why Hope was hesitant to share her story with people, she didn’t want their pity or judgment, but things were different with Josie,” Two things,” she said the sunlight making her glow.

“I’m all ears,” Hope said leaning forward, placing her head in her hands, giving Josie her undivided attention.

What Josie said next floored her,” You are so strong Hope, stronger than anyone gives you credit for,” she sucked in a shaky breath, trying to focus on the air in her lungs. When she failed to meet Josie’s eyes the younger girl reached across the table and took her hands in her own, offering support. Hope wasn’t used to praise or attention, she wasn’t comfortable with it but somehow Josie’s words hit home.” and secondly,” she said, changing the subject,” You had a crush on me,” she giggled, a bright smile forming on the girl's face.

“You already knew that,” Hope responded fighting off a smile. 

“I know but it makes me smile,” 

Hope would have let the earth turn to ash to keep that smile on her face. It terrified her. These feelings terrified her more than anything; she pushed them down and forced on a smirk, “Just keep smiling Jo,” 

Hope wished they could stay there forever, in their own little world, where the sun always shines and the flowers bloom, with no one to interrupt them, but she knew they couldn’t. The real world waited. Her eyes were starting to get heavy,” We should get some rest,” she said pulling her hands away.

“You say that a lot,” Josie whispered,” get some rest’ you always say that when we get somewhere real,” 

She didn’t have an answer, but her heart started to pound harder, she chose not to respond instead she placed her hand on Josie’s cheek mirroring where it laid in real life. She tried to convey all her feelings with that motion, hoping that the younger girl could see what she couldn’t say. Gently she removed herself from her head and back into the darkness of her bedroom, wrapped up in Josie. Her breathing was even, the brunette was asleep, satisfaction flowed through Hope proud that she’d calmed Josie enough that she was able to sleep peacefully. Without thinking she pressed a kiss to the girl’s head and closed her eyes. 

[kimshavacado]

Dead Heat Ch. 3

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage/Mafia AU

Summary: Three extremely powerful families with enough power to bring down entire governments, all with vastly different views on how things should be run. The Min family thinks everything can be solved with money, the Jeon family think everything can be solved with violence, and the Kim family relies more on thought which leads to a lack of action. When Kim Y/N loses her father, she only has one way to save herself and her family. But it involves having to give herself over to a stranger. How the hell is she not supposed to punch him in his stupid rich face?

Dead Heat Masterlist

Warnings: Language

A/N: Hello again lovely readers! I didn’t expect for the cliff hanger to be so tempting, but even I had to know, so here’s the next chapter. It’s not quite as long, but has some damn answers. Also, I’m about as capable as an 80 year old when it comes to technology, so I’ll tag people when I figure out how to later today.

Chapter 3: Some Damn Answers

Jimin isn’t who you think he is Y/N.“

What a dumbass thing to say. 

“What the hell are you taking about? I know him better than anyone! Don’t act like you do, you haven’t even talked to him before!”

Yoongi looks to the ground and let’s out a sigh before turning his head back up to you,  and you could’ve sworn you saw a bit of desperation in him. 

“Go upstairs to my study. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

At any other point in the exchanges between you two, you would’ve told him to screw off and stormed out. However, you notice the change in him. The way he looks at you is not like a man who has lost an argument. Instead you see guilt on his face. How could a person like him be able to feel such a thing? You quickly decide that it doesn’t matter. Neither does your previous goal. Jimin matters. Your real family matters. So, instead of storming out the front door, you silently go back the way you came from. 

When you reach the hall connecting the bedrooms and study you suddenly remember the guard you’d “accidentally” incapacitated. You are beyond relieved when you find the floor outside your bedroom free of unconscious bodies. You figure he must’ve gone to tattle on you or something. It’s not really something to worry about so you continue down the hall towards the study. When you inch open the door, you mentally prepare for what you’ll find. But, it isn’t what you’d expected at all. It looks like… a study. Fully furnished in wood, it’s quite a use of space. Bookshelves along the sides, a large desk, a few chairs, and even a tasteful rug make the room seem like the personal office of a regularly adjusted human being, which threw you off a little bit. It was a pretty cozy aesthetic. You sat yourself in one of the large chairs and waited for him to join you. 

It was more than a few minutes. After about 12 minutes you got bored enough to get up and look around his study. He wouldn’t like you snooping, but then again, he shouldn’t make you wait so long. You take a look at his bookshelf and note his love of classics. Strange. There’s an old photo sticking out of one of the books just asking to be seen, so you slip it out from between the pages to find what looks like a family photo. Even stranger. Yoongi can’t be more than five years old, and his parents look young, specifically his mother who seems to be smiling brighter than anyone else. 

What you see in his childhood eyes is pure joy. That seems like it was a happy time in his life, and it makes you wonder what happened during the past couple of decades that changed that. You gently put the photo back into place, being careful not to leave a trail, and continue snooping. Propped up between the end of one of the shelves and a wall is what looks like a keyboard with a stand that’s been collapsed down to conserve space. Who is this guy? Does Min Yoongi have some twin with a different personality?

You’re about to examine the keyboard further when you notice rows of files peaking through an open drawer in his desk. How convenient, don’t mind if you do. They’re filled with names, titles, projects, and nonsense until you notice one labeled “Kim.” Now you are aware that many people share the surname, but you’re also intrigued by the fact that this file is one of the few yellow ones while almost all others are white. You pull the folder out onto the desk hoping to find some damn answers about something. You open the cover to see the first page only to gasp loudly. 

“Shit…” you whisper. 

It’s a picture of your father after he died. He supposedly died of a heart attack, but it certainly didn’t appear that that was the entire story. Not when there’s blood coming out of his head. You can’t bring yourself to look at it any longer so turn the page hoping to figure out what the hell it was that you just looked at. You find a medical form if some kind. It looks like they tested his blood, maybe? There’s a list of chemicals you’ve never heard of and some are checked and highlighted. 

“Oh shit.” You say, a bit louder this time. 

He was poisoned. Even you could put that together.

Directly after that you find extremely detailed accounts of every assassination made on him. In this section you also find an account of an attempted kidnapping of his daughter, you. While reading through it, you recall the night when your home was broken into by a single man. The psycho snuck into your room and chloroformed you. You didn’t struggle for long until you blacked out. When you woke up, you heard that he wasn’t able to escape with you in the end. He got away, but you stayed safe. However, safe was far from how you felt after that night. Nightmares of his face plagued your dreams for weeks. Often, the only times you slept during those nights were when Jimin came over and stayed with you. Your mind temporarily flashes back to what Yoongi had said about him before you continue through the pages. 

In the rest of the folder you find more images of your father, but from when he was alive. They were from about a week before he died and there were photos of him with everyone he had contact with, even you.

Think, why would Yoongi have stalker photos of your father leading up to his death as well as multiple detailed explanations as to how he was killed wrapped up in a neat file in his secret study? You look down and see the next yellow folder when the door suddenly opens. 

“Sorry, the meeting-” Yoongi cuts himself off as you two look at each other like deer caught in each other’s headlights. After a beat passes you grab the first available weapon, an old fashioned letter opener, and point it towards Yoongi. He immediately raises his hands in order to not provoke you. 

“Woah, hey I don’t-” He stops yet again when he sees exactly what you’ve gotten ahold of. 

“Care to explain?” You more demand than ask.

“Look, it’s not what it looks like.” You scoff at this. 

“What does it look like Yoongi?”

“You think I had your father killed, I didn’t.”

“Well you’ve got about 60 seconds to prove it.”

“Same drawer, it’s labeled ‘Jeon.’ A yellow folder just like that.”

You reach down for the other folder that you saw earlier. It’s thicker than the first one, which is no surprise based on the label. If there first one seemed violent, this one was bound to be gruesome. You cautiously open the cover and examine the first picture. The letter opener falls out of your hand as you grasp the page to get a better look. Even seeing the horrid post-death pictures of your father didn’t compare to the shock of what you faced in this photo.

The head of the Jeon family was there along with his son and a few others, including two very clear, very familiar faces. The chloroforming psycho and the boy sitting next to him, Park Jimin.

A/N: Okay maybe not all the answers yet, but hopefully more to feed off of. I’m leaving the country next week so I’ll try to get as much content out in the next few days as I can!

Next Chapter

@badbyeyoongi