#laughed a lil too hard at ‘this man needs a therapist’

[castle-dominion]

castle 6x8 a murder is forever

the diamond episode liveblog

Teehee I remember seeing the bonus features bloopers "seamus open up your shirt a little more" 'bill i've been waiting for you to say that'

anyway liveblog time

Is this lady real? I remember smth like that, some lady lived with nonhuman primates. Oh this episode! The one where that gif is from! Masculinity! lol alphas.

As a queer tranny, uh, idk what to do except laugh.

Oh no she dead there's someone sitting beside her? still? How long has kyle been callig? how long has she been dead? why is he pulling out the knife NOW?

Nooo beckett beckett vs linus. RC: Keeps you on alert KB: *somehow got over her hypervigilance ptsd rly easily as soon as that plot served its purpose*

Not get rid of him! Just... move him! "we" she is bringing caslt eon the murder lol "yeah of linus's feelings"

In a hail of bullets! My bedroom is my lair XD His identity? rly?

Ooh ryan is so pretty! Ryan's cute lil shrug Me: queer tranny

RC: So they killed her then they killed her car? THAT IS A LOT OF MONEY HOLY they didn't take the money just cuz? Ryan sweater no tie today, uh... idk i just like it. & hair too. I miss his s4 hair. His s1 hair was fun but college student vibes.

Kyle's outfit is NOT good. but I love the tie.

That "no why did you ask" was so sus

"what were they looking for?" yeah that's the question RC: The most intimate details of the world’s elite? People have been killed for less.

My man should have worn a hat or smth to hide his face not just turn away his head.

Not to be racist but the boyfriend looks like the guy from the car. Well, actually now that I think about it, no yeah it was just my racist programming. Don't I feel like an ass? The boyf also looks vaguely similar to the guy in the security photos tho & that's not racism that's just haircut.

wild beast lol. Yet you say she helped people? They could be aggressive ou said.

It wasn't a client, she was lying to u.

Book: Bioessentialism? Me: No???

Nuclear launch codes? from a therapist?

nf1945 she has access to a private jet???

bc the stuff she got in trouble with was smth that would get her in trouble with the cops too.

Ellis! Tory ellis!

Cool name, Manhattan Raptor

Wow ok so they are all vested up? & they drive their car in front of them? What is even going on? Esposito shotgun moments My man destroys evidence Right Now, I like him he's good

Barrett Hawke RC: Barrett Hawke? As in the legendary fixer? He’s been sweeping the dirt of New York’s rich and famous under the rug for over a decade. (off GATES’S look) Not my dirt. I just – heard. (won't clip) This guy is the one we saw there.

"it was a photo of someone else, your colleagues just thought it was her bc they were thinking about her at the time." Hawke: Your colleagues were mistaken. (shrugs) But that was a micro cut shredder, so unfortunately there’s no proof either way. Hawke: My favorite shoeshine guy’s in that building. Hawke: Hm. Can’t really make out his face. Hard to say who that guy is. C’mon, Detective. What do you really have on me, huh? Do you have a single piece of evidence that I was in her office? Or that I was involved in her death? Prints? DNA? Anything? (she’s silent) That’s what I thought. I LOVE him! I love this guy so much!

Oof my arms hurt from carrying heavy glasses in dishwashing racks all day.

That's why there was a subpoena? Or she was not licensed lol

JE: I’ve got to hand it to this Alice chick, bro. Whatever her monkey theory is has her in with the movers and the shakers. KR: She learned from the real gorillas. Seems to be working with the eight hundred ones in the human world. She was like the dog whisperer for CEOs. [He stops to touch some flowers.] JE gives him an incredulous look. JE: You really buy that? KR: Oh, skimmed through her book. I think there might be something to her theory. For instance, she said that in every relationship there needs to be a masculine energy and a feminine energy. Even in ours. JE: Oh. Well, we know which one you are. KR: I don’t know about you, but I am very comfortable in my masculinity. JE: You do realize you’re wearing a sweater vest, right? KR tries to come up with an argument but they’re interrupted by ANDREW SPENCER.

Clipping that lmao. also: haha queer & trans watching this episode

Rat's ass

Man has a nice outfit imo. why would she need a hidden hotel? how long was she staying?

Becks is right, anonymity not money. I legit thought he was finding another dead body lol it's going to be empty OH RIGHT, HOW COULD I FORGET ABOUT THIS?

unless it's glass

KB: We stopped at a jewelers on the way back and he almost had a heart attack.

RC: Given the cash, the hotel, and the private plane I’d say she was making a getaway. Transcript says Gates is the one who calls alice oceans one lol Castle is right, that is a sane theory. bc it's a hella big expensive diamond that's why. bring back demming!!! his short little "ever" the blue butterfly! (this is making me think about glass/silica/quartz & white sapphires & silicon carbide/moissanite & ugh I looooove rocks so much!)

Castle & his stories remember the snake guy back in like s2?

Didn't they already visit a jeweller? love the way he wears his jacket lol So it was smuggled in if this man was copied?

The four Cs! Ryan immediately & quickly: Uh, color, cut, clarity, carat. (smugly, to ESPOSITO) You’d know this if you’d ever bought an engagement ring. Peters: The diamond is colorless. No blemishes and pristine cut. No internal clouding. And uh .. (he places it back on the microscope) … nearly one hundred carats. RYAN’s jaw drops. JE: Man. Hey, how deep would my pockets have to be to afford a rock like that? Peters: Detective, you are not tall enough to have pockets deep enough. JE: *offended* Peters: But I would say it’s worth … $60 million. Conservatively. JE: (chagrined) Yeah, I ain’t that tall.

VG: Six zero, like with another six zeros after that? KR: That would be $60 million, yes.

JE: Nah. Peters said that old school cutters fashioned diamonds with sharp edges. This one has smooth edges, which it means it had to be cut within the last few decades. loooove rocks & rock facts & minerals & gems & giology kslfjlkdjfskldfjsl

RC: For engaged men everywhere I can only hope it wasn’t a ring.

INT - JE+KR’S CAR KR hangs up the phone. KR sighs. JE: So … we thinking the same thing? KR: That it’s a bummer we can’t stop for lunch because there’s a sixty million dollar diamond sitting between us? JE: No. That because of the $60 million dollar diamond sitting between us that we are not-really-but-kinda-sorta thinking about making a run for the border. He smirks. KR glares at him. KR: Hadn’t even crossed my mind. JE’S teasing smirk falls. JE: Of course it didn’t. Nope, you wouldn’t have the stones. All I’m saying.

I went to clip that but ended up clipping way more. The fun little fight scene. Love the "for now" *pushes his partner down when he sees the gun* Love the way they switched places to shoot The diamond! I take WAY too long to think about how a clock is shaped. I CAN read a clock, but I need to think about it whereas ppl SHOULD be able to tell by the positions, the vibes not the math. I couldn't do "subway station seven-o'clock" Covering for each other. We get to see shoes! Esposito's kneel slide thing <3 But like these clowns had HUGE guns, why were they scared off by these little cops with their little guns? btw I need to find that fanfiction again where it went "yeah I don't think it is realistic that ryan had his door slammed into by another car & escaped with nothing more than a cut on the forehead & some wrappings around his ribs" but idk where to find it. Also uh, I am such a lesbian (half man) for Ryan (also a man).

Your neck really would hurt, whiplash huh. But also he def scraped his knees! & what is the point of wrapping up ryan's chest? idk how medical stuff works but I feel like it might not actually help to have tensor bandages wrapped around your chest. But hey maybe some trans!Ryan headcanons! Bill Roe, director: "seamus open up your shirt a little more" SD (KR): 'bill i've been waiting for you to say that'

The rock johnson? it's $60mil, it could SO be abt the diamond. The boys don't even get to take the rest of the day off? I'm surprised gates lets them look into the suv, personal vendetta & all.

Castle is NOT carrying coffee with the way he is swinging around those glasses. RC: So I was thinking. When we work a case together this desk of yours is sort of – kind of – our space. S1 KB: *would probably hit him upside the head or smth* KB: If you don’t like the elephants, I don’t like the elephants. Imagine if he made them go away. You know what's inside them. RC: I actually like those elephants. They obviously have family values and this one’s good with money. Anyway … (NF adlibbed that so I hear)

Primates in africa near the diamond place? I can see that a 60mil gift? Ooh I like how Castle goes back & corrects himself

KB: That … is … surprisingly plausible. Remember when the "extra" covid vaccines were being "donated" to "poor countries" but it was just... corporate greed? But the shape of the gem would be stabbing her...?

Power couple lol

"that's where it is!" "it looks like the one you gave me" How can you tell the difference? Ohhhh it is a costume piece! A detective & maybe also a jeweller.

Not the cops, more likely the insurance company, except the insurance company has no record of the diamond bc if it did the cops probably would have found it

Ooh a penthouse! *leans on esposito* fixer is in a fix!

I love mr hawke. She didn't answer.

They were mugged-- they didn't call the cops they called hawke! Why though? Male mugger, not alice. Her boyf maybe?

Aight we got ryan looking normal again but esposito took off his jacket.

Yay tory ellis!

Remember Ethan Nestor lie detector "the hit was Kind of satisfying"

Fingerprints?

Edward Peters! Lab grown does not mean fake. It is the same process so it is still a mineral, even if the process is synthesized.

Diamonds are already not worth as much as ppl think.

No, gates would NOT let these two go in to do the interview.

Yep, cartels & profit & stuff like that.

Except that the carbon molecules are each different. Other than that yeah exactly the same.

Leo: Alice and I met when I was in Rwanda doing aid work. We were young and in love. And then one day soldiers came into the village, financed by the diamond cartel. We watched from the jungle as they slaughtered everyone. Casualties of a turn war for profit. That day changed me. I dedicated myself to stopping the cartel's bloody practices. It was a life I knew Alice couldn’t be a part of, but I never stopped loving her.

Leo: Two years ago stones started popping up in Europe and the Middle East. Flawless and being sold for millions. That’s when a gemologist friend of mine happened across a pair of them. He discovered that they were exactly the same. Nature doesn’t make exact copies.

Leo: They were man-made Yeah. I tried to trace them back to their source. All I knew was that they were coming out of the States. And then Alice called me, out of the blue. Said one of her clients, Steve Warner, had a secret.

Leo: Yes. Man-made diamonds are nothing new. But no one had ever produced this quality of gem before. Big and flawless. Soon diamond mines would be a relic of the past. Steve Warner’s technology could change everything. So I approached Warner. I begged him to make his technology available, but he denied he even had it. He was just using it to line his own pockets. The world needed to know and we needed proof.

Leo: yes the necklace. We knew that if we could just examine that stone that we could tie it back to the others. That we could show everyone what he was doing and they could all see that it was possible. Then … everyone would eventually unlock the code.

Leo: No more cartels. No more sponsored bloodshed. We were going to change the world. That night Alice had a plane standing by to take us to a private lab. But she never showed.

So alice happened to get these clients & was able to call her old boyfriend yay.

Worthless-ISH bro, you could still use them in sawblades.

Or you know... don't sell big diamonds, but cut them smaller & sell them normally or sell them to sawblade companies.

Hawke said the warrens didn't hire the clown team tho. No it was the wife! No! You had the gun with the safety off? even tho you only wanted to scare her?

She has her gun with her? in the middle of home?

RC: Now I know it doesn’t really go with the space, but at least it won’t be hungrily staring at you in the morning.

RC: No, I did. I did. I finished reading Alice’s book and there’s a chapter in there that speaks to couples like us. See, we’re both alphas. And it says that we need to define our shared territory together. (he gestures around him) These are pieces all over – these are all my stories. But the shells? That’s ours.

Castle playing lion sounds lol

Ok so that was fun. Good ep. I have about an hour until I need to leave. I'll start on the next one.

[chowtrolls]

CRYING ??

Happy saturday, here’s Korean doodles!

Lekthi belongs to @quiescent-trolls

Magpie belongs to @ask-the-troll-boys

Archie belongs to @roetrolls

The restorer belongs to @sasster

And riptid belongs to @jazztrolls !

[dameronology]

wait on {din djarin x reader}

summary: boba fett is a good therapist, and din djarin is spectacular at being nosey. the result? a much needed conversation. perhaps there’s a silver lining. {kinda based on this song}

warnings: angst, language, swearing, s2 spoilers

this one hurts a lil bit but i promise the ending is happy. enjoy!!

-jazz

The air between you was thick, not unlike the beskar that the Mandalorian was wearing. 

It was funny, really, because you’d never minded the armour all that much before. Your ability to see straight through it and see Din Djarin for what he really was had been what made him fall in love with you, and you with him. Now, it felt like a barrier between you. Inches of thick metal and fabric, shielding him from the world around him. From you. The one person he usually held closest to his heart; the one person he’d let see his face for the first time in years. The man was hardly a conversationalist at the best of times but he’d opened up to you. Shared his world with you and intertwined it with yours. Built something with you that you'd both protect with your lives. 

Now, he was straying away. Forever attached by an invisible string, but with galaxies and galaxies between you. Even though he was mere inches from you, sat two seats over, there was a chilly air; if your relationship was a warm, welcoming house, the atmosphere he’d plunged you both into was the cold winter’s night on the other side of the glass. You wanted to go back, to drag him inside and slam and bolt the door behind you. Instead, you were forced to watch through the windows, knowing what was there but never quite truly getting close enough to let it envelope you. 

You couldn’t hold it against him. The last few weeks had been rough on you both, and it only come to a head today. Grogu had been taken by the Imps and the Crest had been blown up before your very eyes. It was one of those times that truly and wholly showed the difference between you and Din: you sought him out and he pulled away. You’d learnt a long time ago not to follow him. You wanted to. Fuck, you wanted to, but you’d learnt the hard way that it was a bad idea. 

Despite the icy silence and ache for your kidnapped toad son, you were still grateful for the fact Boba Fett had offered his ship as transport and shelter. You weren’t entirely sure what his deal was, but Din seemed to trust him, and so by extension, you did too. Things were a little cramped in the hull of the ship, but there was a spare sleeping quarters for you and the Mandalorian to squish into, assuming he’d let you. You didn’t want to ask him, because you were scared of the answer. 

Instead, you found yourself sat out on the dusty plains of...wherever the hell you were. Boba had parked the ship up overnight so that you could rest; it seemed to be some kind of desert planet. Not too different to Nevarro or Tatooine, but perhaps a little colder. The sky had long faded to black, casting a darkness over the sandy plains ahead of you. The chilly air was a welcome contrast against the stuffiness of the bedroom - it wasn’t even hot in there, just filled with some kind of inexplicable tension. And not the sexy kind; the regular, all-consuming type. You could feel it slowly etching into your frontal lobe, sinking in its claws and giving you a stress head-ache. Letting out a few deep breaths, you let the gusts of cold wind blow over your bare arms. 

‘A little cold out here, isn’t it?’

The voice was gravelly and unfamiliar, but one that you knew belonged to Boba Fett. 

‘Yeah, maybe.’ You didn’t turn around to look, instead letting your eyes stay focused on the distance. There was nothing ahead. Just darkness and sand. ‘Fresh air is nice, though.’

‘Or maybe the air inside is bad.’ He countered. Boba took a seat on the rock beside you, jokingly whacking his knee against yours. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Just...what happened today, I suppose.’ You replied. ‘We lost the kid, and our ship.’

‘You’re handling it better than your Mandalorian.’ He replied. 

‘I don’t think he’s my Mandalorian.’ You snorted. ‘He’s just...he doesn’t normally deal with so much at once. I think he just needs time to process it all, you know?’

‘Perhaps.’ Boba said. ‘And do you always make excuses for him?’

‘I beg your sweet pardon?’ You turned to look at him. 

‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve always been an observant man.’ He began. ‘I saw how you immediately went to him, to check on him, and how you fought beside him,  yet he’s barely even looked at you.’

‘Ouch.’ You muttered. ‘You might be observant you but certainly do not tread lightly.’

‘My apologies.’ He curtly nodded. 

‘It’s not always been like this.’ Your words felt forced. You were making excuses. ‘And it won’t always be.’

‘You know him better than anyone, or so I assume.’ Boba reminded you. ‘But don’t be afraid to remind him what he has, despite what he’s lost.’

He was right. Din could be distant, and he could be fucking ignorant without even trying, but you hadn’t strayed from his side once. Not for a second. It could be frustrating to deal, with but you loved him with your whole being, in a soul-consuming sorta way, and you knew he was capable of coming around. Your mother had always preached songs of love being patient and kind but as you saw it, it was frustrating, and at times the most inconvenient thing in the world. You must have had the patience of a saint to deal with him. He was just lucky he made it worth it (and that underneath all the armour, he wasn’t too bad to look at. It certainly helped his case). 

You let out a sad laugh. ‘I couldn’t. Di - Mando already struggles to express his feelings and I’d only make it worst if I said he wasn’t doing it well enough.’

‘You know your worth.’ Boba said. ‘Only you can decide if he appreciates it enough.’

‘He does.’ You quickly replied. ‘I know he does.’ 

He gave you a doubtful look, one that said I think you’re bullshitting, but I won’t disagree. He was simply sharing his observations, even if they were a little much. But the man hadn’t had any proper social interaction for a long time, so you could hardly blame him - and he had a sort of wise air to him, like he’d been round the block a couple times. He certainly seemed like the sort of person you should listen to.

‘I’ll leave you with this: the life of a Mandalorian is complicated.’ He dusted off his knees, before standing up. ‘You should make sure it’s worth it before you fully commit.’

‘I-’ you tried to speak, but you were cut off by the sound of a twig snapping under someone’s boot. Why the fuck were there twigs in the desert? More to the point, why was that your immediate thought? 

You both sharply turned around, coming face-to-face with a Mandalorian. Not a Mandalorian, but the Mandalorian. The one you’d just been talking about. The one whose heart would have been broken into a million tiny pieces if he’d even a word of what you just said. And, from the way his helmet tilted ever so slightly to the left, you figured he’d heard more than enough. Fuck. 

'Don’t let me stop you.’ His modulated voice wavered ever so slightly. ‘I’ll see you inside.’

He turned on his heel, heavy steps taking him back towards the Slave I. To anyone else, his body language hadn’t changed, but you could read him like a book. A complicated book, and one that was missing more than half its pages and was in a dozen different fucking languages, but one you’d read a thousand times. Understanding Din Djarin was hard, and you’d only just begun -  barely touched the surface in fact - but it was more than anyone else could say. 

‘Wait!’ You leapt up, almost comically falling over as you rushed after him. 

Sensing that his presence was probably not welcome, Boba returned to his seat on the rock, silently hoping that Fennec Shand was either a) asleep, or b) had enough common sense to stay the fuck out of the way of whatever was about to go down. 

‘I swear to maker if you shut that door -’ you were cut off by...the door shutting in your face. Djarin: 1. You: 0.

You let out a small groan, slamming your fist against it. 

‘Okay, maybe I deserved that.’ You quietly muttered. ‘But will you please listen to me?’

Silence. 

‘Fine.’ You splayed your fingers out against the metal. ‘Ice me out, Din Djarin. I’m more than used to it by now.’

There was a gruff hmm from the other side of the door. Had he really just taken offence to that?

‘It’s funny, really.’ You continued. ‘Because the part of that conversation you didn’t hear was me defending you. Like I always fucking do, because I know that despite everything, you’re a human being and you love me.’

There was a small thud, as though Din had placed his hand in a similar position to yours.

‘But Boba has a point.’ Your voice fell to a whisper. ‘I keep giving and I get nothing back. Instead of letting me in, you just shut me out and I know you’re upset at what he said but for the love of everything holy in this shitty world, do not prove him right.’

It was a risky ultimatum, and not one you’d seen coming. Your chest had tightened as soon as the words left your mouth, because you knew that if Din stayed silent, that was it. You’d have to let him go; to accept that you would never get back what you putting in. Before, you were able to convince yourself that you were okay with that but maybe, just maybe you weren’t. Waiting around for something that had no guarantee of happening was like beating a dead horse that had no guarantee of coming back to life. The only thing that was promised was emotional exhaustion and then eventual death. You would have liked to have found something between those two waypoints - whether Din Djarin could be the one to give it to you? You didn’t know. 

After a moment of silence, the door finally opened, and you came face to face with him. Like actually face to face with him; no helmet, no armour. Just a loose tunic and tired brown eyes, matched with lazily-shaven facial hair and knitted brows. That was Din. Your Din. 

‘Can I just...can I just talk for a moment?’ He asked. ‘I have something to say and I want to get it right.’

‘Of course.’ You nodded. 

‘I’m not hurt by what you said.’ He stated. ‘I know I don’t show you enough love and it hurts that I don’t know how, but I am trying. I promise you that much.’

You gave him a tearful smile. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘I just wish that you could say it to me and not to him.’ He murmured. ‘I don’t want you to hold back on anything, ever. You can always come to me. Even if it’s about me.’

‘I get that.’ Your eyes fell to the floor. ‘It’s just that I know you’re trying your best and I’m scared you’ll think that your best isn’t enough.’ 

‘It’s not.’ Din’s words took you by surprise. ‘It’s not enough, but one day, I hope it will be.’

‘I don’t know what to say, because if I deny it-’

‘- you don’t have to say anything.’ He cut you off. ‘I want to give you the world. And I will, if you’ll be patient with me.’

You took every word as gospel as he said it. The Mandalorian was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. And to his credit, every promise he’d made to you before, he’d delivered on. You didn’t doubt for a second that this one would be the same. It wasn’t even naivety or wishful thinking. 

‘I mean, I’ve come this far.’ You tried to crack a joke. You finally looked up from the floor, his brown eyes meeting yours. 

‘I love you.’ He took your hands in his, words firm. ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m sorry.’

‘Din.’ The words barely come out as a whisper. ‘Never apologise. Please never apologise. I just...it’s nice to hear it, you know? A little more often than every time you almost die.’

‘Are the words enough on their own?’

‘Yes.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘Because I know you mean them.’

Din wrapped his arms you, pulling you tightly against his chest. It was warm and soft, miles away from the cold armour that so often greeted you. He held you tightly and with a new kind of might you were previously yet to experience, clinging onto you as though it were the last time. It wasn’t - it was far from the last time. Rather, it was the first time. The first time that he’d spoken of a future with you, or fully promised himself to you. You knew you would get there one day. You’d just needed him to say it himself before you could believe it. 

Din Djarin was giving you tiny little pieces on himself each day, and one day, you would have all of him. 

tags: @meshlababy @bo-kryze @poestardust @aqueencomplexx @princessxkenobi @cosmic-rich @captn-andor @buttercup--bee​ @maharani-radha​ @kat-r-in​

[basicbatboys]

Drain-O

Part 2

WARNINGS: Abusive ex, descriptions of abuse, violence, death, angst, language

A lil vent writing :) This is the first thing I’ve written in a very long time and a topic close to my heart! The title is irrelevant to the fic, it was just my own personal Drain-O 

1914 words 

Jason finds out you’ve been talking to an abusive ex who you’re convinced has changed. You go out with the ex and chaos ensues. There’s nice fluff at the end with Jason consoling and talking with you. This is not a light fic.

 If you or someone you know is struggling with domestic abuse, it is not a situation that you can handle alone. Please reach out to someone and find help. You deserve better. 

800.799.SAFE (7233)                                                 

https://www.thehotline.org/

I stood in front of my full length mirror, smoothing down the slight creases in the dress I’d grabbed out of the closet. I smiled softly at my reflection. It had been a while since I’d felt this nice- since I’d had something to feel nice for. I gave myself a final once over, and when I was content I turned to head toward my desk to finish the final touches on my hair and makeup. When I turned, I was a little too unsurprised to see a dark figure crouched on my windowsill. I sighed and walked toward it, undoing the latch. 

“Jaybird, you find the worst times to pester me.”

The figure slid through my now opened window with a grace that someone of his size shouldn’t be able to muster. His feet hit the ground with a soft pat and he shut my shade to give himself the privacy required to pull off his helmet. He flashed me a cocky smile and ran a hand through his hair. “It’d hardly be pestering if it was a good time for me to show up.” He pointed out, walking toward my bed and taking a comfortable seat. 

I rolled my eyes and retreated to my desk, flipping my hair into a simple messy bun. “I’m leaving soon. And you know, if you keep showing up here, someone is bound to think you live here and break in.” I gave him a pointed look and he responded with a nonchalant eye roll. 

“Fun surprise when they stumble on a woman getting ready for a-” he looked me up and down, “date?” He tried. 

I nodded. “Yeah, a date.” 

He frowned softly and stood up, walking to stand behind me and look at me through the desk mirror. “With whom?” He demanded lowly. 

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I turned around in my chair and folded my hands together, begging. “Please, papa! Please, I love him! You can’t forbid me from going out any longer!” I chided, my voice high and my lashes batting. 

He sighed. “You know why I’m asking, batbreath.” 

I sighed too and turned back around, my attention returning to my makeup. Jason had a reason to be hesitant about my going out. He’d recently discovered that my ex had been talking to me again, and foolishly, I’d let him talk me into taking me out tonight. Of course, Jay didn’t know that last bit. If he did, there’s no way he’d let me leave. My ex had been… Impolite, to say the least. Before I had been introduced to the vigilante family he’d been really good at knocking me around. Most days I’d spend my time covering black eyes and downing countless painkillers. Now was the hard question. Why was I going out with him again? 

Well, it had been a year now. I knew how to handle myself, if he thought to try something. And really, I missed him. The memories  we had together were clouded by pain, but he was the first man to love me. He held me at night. He kissed me under the stars and in the rain, he bought me flowers and bracelets, and he held my hand on the subway. I missed the way I felt carefree when he laughed. I missed the happy times. I thought, hoped, that things could change. That things would be different now. 

“Hey.” Jason nearly yelled, snapping me out of my train of thought. I nearly pierced my nose with my mascara wand. 

“What?” I snapped, turning to look up at him again. 

“I don’t want the trademark attitude right now. You don’t get to have an attitude. Who are you going out with, this is serious.”  

I sighed, defeated. “His name is Zack.” I said, sliding him a fake name. “He’s a nice guy, really!” I lied, forcing a smile. “A really good guy.” 

Jason didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded and backed away from my chair. “Okay.” He said, grabbing his helmet. “I won’t pester you anymore.” He said, spitting my earlier words back at me. He headed toward the window, slid on his helmet, and opened the shade. “You look nice, batbrain.” He finished before exiting through my window and into the darkness again. 

“Thank you.” I said to no one. 

---

“Dylan, don’t fucking touch me.” I growled, wiping the blood from my nose. I was backed into an alleyway. My blood felt like it was 90% alcohol at this point. He’d been feeding me drinks all night for this planned outburst. I’d never felt stupider in my life. 

“God, how many times have I heard you say that? At least a thousand, at this point.” Dylan laughed, stalking toward me. I realized now that I never watched him drink anything but water. Stupid. 

“You deserve this, sweetheart, after the hell you’ve put me through. It’s been impossible to bang anyone with all the bullshit you’ve spread about me.” 

I could hardly hear him. There was so much fog in my head and the pain from the blows he’d already delivered were clouding any sort of brain function I could have been riding on. Any of the training Batman had given me was out the window. 

“It wasn’t bullshit.” I slurred. I wiped my still-dripping nose again. “See?” I said, holding up blood stained fingers. “Not bullshit. You’re a psychopath.” 

He laughed again. “Oh, the attitude. How I missed the fucking attitude!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn’t distinguish. Then, I saw the glint under the little light that the alley offered. A knife.

I backed up until I hit the wall. Was this really how I was going to die? Stupid. Stupid, stupid. 

“I’m going to really enjoy silencing that fucking attitude.” 

He walked toward me, slowly. I felt like I was suffocating. There was no way out. No one here to save me. I looked right at him. 

He didn’t seem off put. He didn’t stop, he just maintained his pace. He was about a foot away from me when a shot rang out. I watched his body soundlessly fall to the ground. My ears were ringing. I stared, open mouthed, at the pool of blood that slid out from under his head, black and thick. 

I looked up. A red helmet stared blankly at me from the rooftop. It was only then, really, that I realized I was crying. My knees gave out and I fell to the ground, my palm landing in the puddle of blood. 

Jason landed on the ground beside me moments later. He knelt down and took my hand, helping me back to my feet. “Let’s get you home.” He muttered, his tone unreadable. 

----

The sun beaming through my window woke me up gradually. My head was killing me and my pillow had small dots of blood decorating it from the times when my nose had continued bleeding throughout the night. I sat up slowly and the memories of the night before came flooding back. Jason.

I reached for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. I stood up and walked cautiously out to the living room. He was here and had presumably spent the night. He was already awake and sitting on my couch. 

“Hi.” I breathed, unable to say more than that. 

He looked up at me with dark, angry eyes. Then, surprisingly, his gaze softened. “Come sit down?” He asked. 

I nodded and sat across from him. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he wanted from me was an explanation. 

“I-” I started, then stopped. I was already crying again. Embarrassment was the best word for what I was feeling. “I lied to you. I don’t need to tell you that, you already know. I lied to you because… Because I knew you wouldn’t let me go. And I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have trusted him again, Jay. I know. But… I…” I couldn’t fully articulate the way I felt. I knew that I needed to try but between the throbbing pain and the hangover burning a hole in my brain it was damn near impossible to get anything coherent out. 

Jason didn’t say anything. He wanted to let me finish, I assumed. 

“He was… I loved him. I thought that maybe he had changed because he apologized and explained things. He said he was seeing a therapist now. That he had figured out ways to help himself cope with his problems, and Jay, I mean, he was my first real love. He made me feel so carefree and so happy. The times that he hit me were… I mean they were terrible but he always worked so hard to make up for it. I thought that there was good in him. I thought that maybe we would go back to just being happy together. And with everything I learned in training I knew I could protect myself. And then he got me drinking and I thought he was drinking too but he just kept ordering me drinks and you know how I am with alcohol, I didn’t think twice about what he might have been doing to me. Jason, please-”

He held up a hand. “Don’t.” He said softly. He put his face in his hands and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I… I’m disappointed.” He said finally. The words struck me deep in a core part of myself. “I thought you knew better.” 

I didn’t know what to say. I looked down and watched the tears from my eyes turn into dark spots on my shorts. 

“But-” he continued, “That’s how you’ve always been. Always wanting to see the best in people. Always wanting to fix what just can’t be fixed. You were clearly manipulated. He clearly fucked you so badly in the head that you really thought he loved you.” He looked up at me. 

I can’t imagine what he must see. Some dumb child sitting in front of him, crying like everything wasn’t her fault. I would have been safe if I hadn’t just walked right into his trap. I could have saved everyone the headache. I must have looked so pathetic. 

“You don’t need a lecture. You need help. You need-” I let out the sob that I’d been holding in and he sighed. “You need a friend.” He stood up and walked toward me, pulling me into his arms. “I am so sorry that you have never known real love. I’m sorry that that is what love is to you because it is so much more beautiful than kissing bruises.” 

I looked up at him and he carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and wiped away a tear that had tracked a glistening trail down my cheek. “It is so much gentler.” He whispered. I couldn’t hold his gaze so I looked back down. 

He didn’t force me to look at him. He didn’t say anything after that. I wanted to believe him, but the love he described sounded too fairytale-like to be real. Love is damaged. I wanted to argue but I knew there was no point. He saw me as damaged, and hell, maybe I was. All I could offer him was the same hollow “Thank you.” that I spoke to no one the night before.

[tchallasbabymama]

The Temple- Chapter 1/?

N’Jadaka x OC

A/N: I thought this was going to be a two parter, but now it’s looking like maaaaybe 3? I’m just now getting back into my writing and forgot how longwinded I can be lol. Enjoy! 

CW: short mention of suicidal ideation

Previous chapter: Prologue

3256 Words

N’Jadaka’s eyes blinked open and he was met with yet another day in Wakanda. This one was a little different than all his other mornings there because it was the first time he got to wake up in his own bed in his own quarters (outside of that one day he was king.) N’Jadaka had spent the last three months in a psychiatric treatment facility working on his anger and mental health issues. When he woke up after the civil war he caused he was livid. He had wanted to die on that mountain and unfortunately the feeling didn’t leave him until about a month into his treatment. He felt he had nothing to live for since his entire life’s work had gone up in flames before his eyes. He accomplished his one goal in life only to have it snatched back from him a day later. Everything important to him in his life had been taken from him and he felt he had nothing else to live for, so his cousin, King T’Challa, arranged for N’Jadaka to spend some time at Ithemba Center for Mental Wellness. 

He would never admit it out loud, but N’Jadaka was scared to go to Ithemba. He thought his stint as king would have turned Wakandans against him, but it did the opposite. The royal family had decided that transparency was the best policy and did a press conference explaining the entire situation to the people. T’Challa explained what had happened between his father and uncle, what the prince’s life had been like up to that point, and the fact that while he did usurp the throne he did it the right way according to Wakandan law so he wouldn't be charged with treason. The people of Wakanda were shocked, but welcomed their new prince with open arms. He wasn’t aware of the new developments because he was still resting in a healing pod in Shuri’s lab at the time, but when he went to Ithemba he was surprised to find out that everybody already knew him and was more than willing to help him. N’Jadaka hadn’t received that much care and attention since he was a child and he didn't really know how to handle it. It took him weeks to learn how to open himself to others, and it wasn’t until his last month of treatment that he even began opening himself up to the other patients in group therapy.

N’Jadaka’s main therapist was a woman named Ife. She reminded him so much of his mother that he had almost no choice but to open himself to her, crying in her lap during their first couple sessions. Ife had been incredibly patient with the emotional yet emotionally repressed prince, allowing him to work through his overwhelming feelings of anger, sadness, and hurt. 

His time with Ife and the other patients at the center had been incredibly healing and he felt like a new man. He still felt like he had a ways to go, and he could tell he needed something, but couldn’t figure out what. His healing didn’t feel anywhere close to being done.

A knock at the door interrupted his morning laziness.

“Ngena.”

In walked the king of Wakanda flanked by two of his Dora Milaje, who he politely dismissed to stand outside the door. He walked across the room and sat in the plush velvet wingback chair by the full bookshelves.

“Sup man?” N’Jadaka barely opened his eyes to speak to his cousin. The bed was too comfortable.

“My apologies cousin, did I wake you?”

“Nah I’m up, this bed just won’t let me go.”

T’Challa chuckled at his cousin’s laziness. He completely understood, the beds were the most comfortable beds he’d experienced in all of his travels and time abroad in school. 

“I just wanted to formally invite you to attend breakfast at 9. It’s casual, just family and whatever few friends are staying in the palace with us at the time. M’Baku will be joining us today.”

“The gorilla nigga?”

T’Challa tried and failed to stifle his laughter, which quickly spread to his slightly younger cousin.

“Yes the gorilla nigga.”

“Ooooh I’m telling M’Baku you said that. Better yet, I’m telling Auntie.”

“I’d really rather you not.”

N’Jadaka chuckled and wondered if this is how it always would’ve been if they had grown up together. The thought was more bitter than sweet, so he pushed it aside for the time being. 

“Maybe just this once.”

T’Challa grinned at his cousin and he also wondered how life would’ve been had they known each other their whole lives.

“Thank you. Oh and get up, it’s already 8:30” T’Challa stood and walked towards the door.

“These damn beds…” N’Jadaka shook his head and reluctantly flung the sheet back and swung his legs over the side of his bed, completely forgetting he slept naked. He rushed to cover himself in the king’s presence.

“Shit, my bad, man.” 

“For…?”

“Nigga I got my dick swinging!”

“You’re sorry for being naked? Wh- oh that’s right. We aren’t puritanical like you are used to in America. Nudity isn't scandalous here, it’s just a body. But I will leave and let you get ready. See you, umzala.”

N’Jadaka stood there shocked. He knew of Wakandan culture, but experiencing it was going to be an adjustment. Just how different were they? They were never affected by colonization so the oppressive white supremacist ideology wouldn’t exist there. He had a lot of unlearning to do and a lot of questions to ask his family.

He eventually shook himself out of his thoughts and made his way to the en suite bathroom. He turned on the shower using the touchpad and the water fell from the ceiling like rain. He scrubbed down in the vanilla chai body wash he had requested and afterwards he covered his skin in shea butter. He walked into his enormous closet and stood there overwhelmed at the choices. His inner child wanted to throw a fit for everything he’d missed out on, but N’Jadaka took a deep breath to center himself before walking over to the section of clothes that he recognized. He was so nervous about breakfast he almost dressed to impress, but then he remembered T’Challa’s words and casual outfit. He grabbed his Lost Tribe hoodie and threw on his favorite black jeans and his Timbs. He swooped all his locs to one side of his head and threw on his gold glasses. N’Jadaka took a deep breath and walked towards the door.

“Chill out...it’ll be fine.”

The guards stationed outside his door directed him to the dining room where he was met with the smiling faces of his family members. Ramonda was the first to notice he’d entered the room..

“Mholo, umtshana!”

She met him for a hug and kissed his cheek. He smiled so hard his dimples looked deeper than ever and he hugged her back.

“Mornin, Auntie. T, Lil Bit, Charlie’s Angel, Big Man.” N’Jadaka greeted his cousins, Nakia, and M’Baku.

Yet again, T’Challa failed to stifle a laugh, which he tried to play off with a cough. Nakia lightly backhanded his chest and sucked her teeth at him. 

“Little bit? Don't start with me, bubble wrap!”

“Who is Charlie and why am I their angel?”

“That is not my name.”

Shuri, Nakia, and M’Baku spoke over each other.

Thankfully the queen mother was there to settle the children down right as the food was being brought out. N’Jadaka looked at the table and was surprised to see that Ramonda was seated next to T’Challa and that the only empty seat was at the end of the table. 

The king noticed N’Jadaka’s nervousness as he watched him sit down gingerly and take in his surroundings. 

“So N’Jadaka, how was your first night in the palace? Our beds are the most comfortable in the world.”

“Auntie, I almost didn’t come to breakfast. That bed had a hold on me.”

“You must come visit my people sometimes. If you think you sleep good here, wait until you have the crisp mountain air-”

“Nah lemme stop you right there. Crisp is code for cold, and I don't do that shit. Sorry Auntie.”

“I don't do that shit either. When I was staying there I shivered the whole time, even with the beautiful furs and blankets! I’m just not built for the cold.”

N’Jadaka grimaced at the mention of his time as a burgeoning world dictator. He was thankful nobody noticed.

He was also thankful for the large platters of food the kitchen staff came and sat in front of them. They passed the food around the table and soon enough there was silence as everyone dug into what N’Jadaka would later describe as the best meal he ever had.

After breakfast, the three men retired to T’Challa’s office while the princess hurried off to her lab, Nakia disappeared, and Ramonda tended to her garden. 

“So, N’Jadaka...I wanted to talk to you about a few things-”

“Then why is Mighty Joe Young here?”

M’Baku rolled his eyes.

“Again, that is not my name. Who even is this person?”

“It’s a big ass gorilla.”

“Oh- well in that case…”

T’Challa cleared his throat.

“As I was saying. Before anything, we need to address your crowning ceremony. Obviously you are part of the royal family, but by Wakandan law, all royalty must be officially crowned to be able to hold a title. If you would like to be Prince N’Jadaka son of Prince N’Jobu we must have the ceremony.”

N’Jadaka’s voice caught in his throat and his eyes got misty.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

M’Baku put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s good to have you, brother.”

“Good to be here.”

T’Challa fought tears of his own.

“Ok so uh, that’s that. We can hash those details out later. Now, the second thing I wanted to bring up with you is this: M’Baku and Nakia have offered to show you around the merchant tribe here in the city, the river tribe, and Jabariland. Shuri will get you acquainted with the mining tribe, and I will take you out to the border tribe on Wednesday.”

“Aight, sounds like a plan, but I don’t want the surface-level touristy shit.”

T’Challa chuckled.

“Noted. Now, lastly,” T’Challa pulled up a projection of a futuristic yet somehow still modern building next to a basketball court. 

N’Jadaka’s stomach dropped.

“What is this?”

“I want to open our borders to the ‘Lost Tribe’ as you call it. Maybe to the rest of the world eventually, but at the time they are less of a concern. In addition to that, I-”

The king was cut off by Nakia entering the room.

“Perfect time, love.”

“Sorry for being late, this baby runs my life now.”

“I’m getting a baby cousin?!”

Nakia looked at him dryly.

“Yes, N’Jadaka, you are getting a baby cousin.”

He peeped her attitude and settled down. If there was one thing he knew in this world, it was never piss of a pregnant woman.

“So the Outreach Centers, yes. I had actually had the idea for a while, but it took the country almost burning down for this idiot to see I was right. T’Challa had the idea to use your old apartment complex as the first Wakandan Outreach Center. Hopefully if it goes well, we could expand to-”

N’Jadaka zoned out staring at the projection. His vision may not have come true in the way he thought it would, but this would certainly be a step towards the betterment of the lives of Black people everywhere. N’Jadaka couldn't help but grin. 

“I think we lost him…”

“Cousin!”

He snapped out of his daze.

“Yeah I-I like it. Thank you, this really means a lot. One thing though?”

“Yes?”

“I want it dedicated to my pops.”

T’Challa smiled and zoomed in on the name above the door. It read “Prince N’Jobu’s Wakandan Outreach Center”. Then he took them on a 3-D tour of the facility, ending with the memorial to N’Jobu in room 1401.

N’Jadaka nearly broke down in tears.

“Cool. Thanks, man. For everything. This is…” N’Jadaka took a deep breath. “Just, thanks…”

The other three Wakandans smiled back at him fondly, an occurrence it seemed he would have to get used to. 

“I’m glad you like it. Now if you three will excuse me, I have work to do.”

Nakia kissed T’Challa’s forehead and left the room.

 “Aight, I need something lighthearted. A nigga is tired of crying. Oh! Actually I got some questions…”

“Ask away.”

“So earlier you mentioned how free and open and shit yall are here...I’m single and haven’t had any in like 6 months so where can I go to find some pussy. Since I’m a prince do I just like, I don't know, have concubines brought to me? I don't know how this works”

M’Baku snorted.

“Clearly.”

N’Jadaka flipped him off while T’Challa answered.

“No, we do not have ‘concubines’ though we do sort of have sex workers, which we can discuss later. You know, it would do you good to read some Wakandan history books...and maybe even some of our sex education material.”

“Ay man, I already know all that.”

“Not the way we teach it. Plus our birth control is better here.”

“More effective?”

“And no side effects. Trust me, you’ll want to visit the library at the end of the hall, cousin.”

N’Jadaka considered his suggestion and made a mental note to check out the library later that day.

“Yes, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two,” M’Baku chimed in.

“My guy, I know how sex works! I’m just curious about the culture surrounding sex. T, you said y'all aren’t puritanical like America...expand on that.”

“Well the list of books I just sent to your beads would be able to cover this in greater detail than I can at the moment, but basically every preconceived notion you have about sex, gender, attraction, etc. has been tainted by colonialism as a means of control over the population.”

“Hanuman…”

“Yeah I know that, I guess I just can’t really conceptualize a world without all that sexism and homophobia and shit.”

“What is homophobia?” M’Baku asked, genuinely confused. The cousins answered at the same time.

“When people hate gay niggas.”

“The hatred of, or at least the disdain for, those who are attracted to their same gender.”

“And we ain't even getting into the people who aren't men or women, that shit blows people's minds.”

“Why?”

The cousins continued to explain the outside world to M’Baku for what felt like hours. T’Challa looked at the clock and stood.

“Well gentlemen, as...depressing as this conversation has been, we must get to the council meeting.”

“I need a drink after that. The strongest Jabari mead!”

“Yeah imagine living with that shit for 30 years then coming here. I’m not gonna know how to act.”

“You’ll learn.”

The three made their way to the council meeting and N’Jadaka had never been so bored in all of his life. He started nodding off at one point and M’Baku elbowed him in his side when he started to snore. When it was finally over they parted ways and N’Jadaka headed to the library. He had plenty of reading to do.

He started with the Wakandan history books reading about the lives of his ancestors. His fathers stories had given him a good foundation to build on, but what he found in the books blew his mind. 

Wakandans can trace their history for thousands of years, all the way back to the time of the great Bashenga, the first Black Panther. Growing up as a Black American, N’Jadaka had no connection to his mother’s family history because there was no record. When the Lost Tribe was enslaved and brought to the west, they were recorded as cargo, not people. The enslavers didn’t care about their names or where they came from, and when they got to shore their families continued to be ripped apart and sold to the highest bidder. They weren’t allowed to play drums and congregate, they weren’t allowed to read, they weren’t allowed to marry. There was no written record of his people, and the most they could go on was family bibles which almost never went back before the mid 1800s. 

N’Jadaka was overwhelmed with the information, so he decided to switch to something else and come back to the history books later. He picked up “Intimacy and Sex” by Ami Nbunda and flipped through the pages. He skimmed the table of contents and was surprised by what he saw.

The first chapter was on anatomy, but it actually included intersex people instead of just focusing on male and female bodies. The next chapter was about loving and respecting yourself and others, but not in the slut-shaming way of the outside world. The next few chapters were on the mental and emotional sides of intimacy, and the last few were on birth control, sexual health, attraction, healthy communication, and more resources. 

The prince couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he flipped through the pages. He stopped on a full-color photo of a vulva with all the parts labeled.

“This is for kids? Damn, we really living in two different worlds. America would never.”

He turned the page and saw a to-scale model of the entire clitoris, and his eyes bugged out of his head. 

“That shit’s a whole wishbone…”

He continued to read through the pages in awe. M’Baku was right, he was learning a thing or two.

N’Jadaka spent the whole day in the library reading book after book on everything he could get his hands on. If it hadn’t been for his guards alerting him to the time, he would’ve missed dinner. He grabbed the last two books and went to drop them in his quarters before heading to dinner.

“Umzala, have you been in the library this whole time?”

“Yeah man, it’s a lot to take in. I might have to take that sex ed book back to the states.”

“We plan on doing just that at the Outreach Centers. Comprehensive sex education is a necessity, and since your government prefers to keep people in the dark about how their own bodies work it will be our job to educate those who come through our doors. All but the last chapter, of course.” 

T’Challa winked and N’Jadaka felt like he had missed something.

“You mean the resources? Makes sense, those books wouldn't be available outs-”

“Not the books, dear, the Temple.” Ramonda chimed in.

“The what? I ain't got that far yet.”

Shuri rounded the corner and N’Jadaka expected the conversation to stop, but no.

“Remember earlier when you asked about concubines and I said we have sex workers?”

Ramonda cut her eyes at N’Jadaka as he nodded.

“Well that term doesn’t quite encompass what they do. They are sexual healers blessed by Bast herself and they reside in the Temple of Healing on the outskirts of the city near the Land of the Dead. They are known as the Daughters of Bast.”

“Now I feel bad for calling them concubines.”

“You should.” Ramonda said as she slapped him upside the head.

“Ow Auntie, damn”

T’Challa was thankful that his mother had someone else to fuss over, and he chuckled.

“I think it would be a good idea for you to pay them a visit. They are healers, after all.”

Next Chapter

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch1 | knj

(verb) flank - 

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 4.7K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, feelings of guilt, brief description of sexual acts. ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: glad to be putting this gem back up into the world. please do let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for this, i’d be happy to oblige! this was one of the first things i’ve written, and so i hadn’t quite found my style yet, but it’s not that bad??? i pretty much have the whole story planned out, but i want to take my time with it. this is my lil baby, and i wanna treat it right uwu this starts off with a lot of angst and tough emotions, but there will be eventual smut!!! huge thank you to my supportive spouse who is in the military and has helped out with some of the realism aspects of this story. hope y’all like it! enjoy!

- minty <3

It’s raining today. Again. The clouds hang low, like a weighted blanket covering your whole world. Aren’t those things supposed to help with anxiety? If only the clouds comforted you, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to go to… therapy. The word stings in your brain. Another cruel joke of the universe: the un-comforting weighted cloud blanket, and the need for you to go to therapy to ease your pain about a dead therapist. 

The light of the day is beginning to leave as you walk towards the address the man had given you the day before. You really should have been nicer; he really didn’t mean to hurt you. And you really should have asked his name. Mentally kicking yourself, you vow that you’ll do it tonight. After all, this is the only other time you’ve left the house by yourself this week. It was nice to not have the Casualty Assistance Officer breathing down your neck for once. There has to be some good in that. Hell, this little outing might actually be helpful.

The old government building is dull, like both the sky and your feelings. If you died right now and were reincarnated into an object instead of a being, the building in front of you would probably be the best fit. Shades of brown and grey cover tired and worn brick. Government funding has tried its best to keep it presentable but truthfully, it’s barely holding on. It’s definitely seen better days. The more you think about the similarities, the more pathetic you feel, so you push on ahead and push the thoughts out of your mind. The door creaks as you walk in the cold and dark foyer and it all just... makes sense. As empty inside as you are. Jesus, you’ve never been this morbid. There are no lights on other than one at the end of one of the hallways, and you hesitantly step towards it. You don’t like the thought of what that light is going to expose. 

As you reluctantly enter the beam of offensive fluorescent light, someone takes notice of you. Already? They’re walking towards you, hand extended. You’re busy blinking back at the new bright sensation as you reach your hand out to introduce yourself. After blinking back the harsh light, you can see the little folding chairs placed in a circle in the room. Great, you think, just like AA. 

The man before you seems to be in his late 30s, a little on the short side, with a little bit of hair recession. As you finish your short bow to the man, he says in Korean “Yes, someone told us you might be joining us tonight.” as he sends a meaningful look over to one of the chairs in the circle. You follow his gaze to see the man from yesterday grinning up at you, dimples on full display, this time in civilian clothes. After sending you a goofy little wave, he pats the chair next to him and not so smoothly motions for you to sit there. 

“Go ahead,” the older man says, “make yourself comfortable. We’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

You walk toward the empty chair, and take in how truly different he looks in plain clothes. His KATUSA uniform was extremely flattering to his large frame, but this is just downright cruel. The black beanie he’s sporting looks way too good on him. His short sleeved v-neck shirt is a little tight, revealing the finely defined shape of his chest and his arms. He catches your eyes lingering on his body, and you quickly look down as you feel a blush creep up. You tell yourself to just pretend nothing happened, and it’ll all be fine. 

After you sit down, you open your mouth to ask for his name, but he does the same, your voices awkwardly echoing each other. Realizing what happened, your cheeks grow even warmer and you can’t help but turn away as you both share a laugh. You shake it off and give him your name, family first and individual second, attempting to at least make eye contact with him. 

“Nice to officially meet you. I’m Sangbyeong Kim Namjoon, but please don’t feel the need to use titles or honorifics with me. We’re equals here as far as I’m concerned. I’m really glad you decided to come tonight.” 

So, it is him. You can’t even begin to believe it. He looks so different than he did in the tour pictures you saw only a few years ago, but as you look up at him knowing what you know, it all falls into place. Some things for sure didn’t change one bit- his button nose, his deep and smoldering eyes, and the signature dimples really should have given it away. His smile is still just as genuine and reassuring and gleaming and... beautiful?

You immediately squish the thought and offer him back a tight smile. You’re not going to let him know you know who he is. It would probably only make him feel weird and you’ve already been so awful to him. You’re not going to allow yourself to make a big deal about this, and you’re definitely not going to allow yourself to... like him. 

“Look,” you start, “I appreciate your concern. I... I just don’t think something like this will help me. At least not right now.” You sigh, studying your shoes as a distraction. Your hands busy themselves fiddling with your necklace. There’s no way you can be here sitting this close to Namjoon. 

As if he can read your panicked thoughts, Namjoon leans in closer to you, so close you can feel his warm breath on your jaw, and with a hushed and more gravelly voice, he says, “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. Hell, I didn’t say anything for almost a whole month. It just... felt good to listen. You’re not going to be forced into anything. This is going to go at your speed and be what you’re comfortable with. I promise.” With that last sentence, he places his large, warm hand on your knee. 

Shit. You suddenly feel your entire body ignite. What is this? A bolt of lightning rushes up your spine. Your heart starts to pound in your chest. No, this isn’t happening. Your legs begin to tingle. This can’t be happening; this is not allowed. You swallow hard. 

You don’t want to be aroused. You straight up shouldn’t be aroused. This is messed up. Really messed up. You blink some sense back into yourself and cross your legs away from him which thankfully removes the cursed hand.

You’d imagined being touched by this man for a pretty considerable amount of time some years ago; you had filled your head with countless fantasies, knowing they’d never come true. You’d read countless imaginings of his other fans and admirers. This man had fueled so many hidden desires within you. You’d thought of his hands exploring your frame, his strong arms throwing you around, his plush lips leaving marks along your inner thighs...

Thinking of him had been your guilty little pleasure, even something your husband had liked to playfully tease you about. To actually have him here next to you in the flesh, though, was still somehow unfathomable. Why now, you mentally screamed to the god you didn’t believe in. The universe’s cruel jokes just won’t end, will they? What can you possibly even do about this? You can’t sit here and allow your panties to be wet when your husband hasn’t even been buried yet for fucks sake. God, you’re so ashamed. You’re just going to have to keep him at a polite distance. That’s your only option.

You don’t speak through the meeting. But Namjoon was right, it is kind of nice to hear other people’s stories. Even though it’s only been a week since you found out, there’s a lot of feelings and thoughts you can relate to with these people. You’ve found out why Namjoon comes to these meetings every week. That was a question you didn’t want to linger on, much less learn the answer to. You didn’t want to imagine him experiencing a loss like this. Even when you weren’t convinced it was really him, seeing that same pain in another’s eyes only made yours hurt worse. 

One of Namjoon’s fellow soldiers had died in a training accident, and the whole fire team was there doing group therapy. They spent most of their time remembering the funny things he would do to cheer everyone up during their long ruck marches and their annoying and boring bouts of equipment cleaning. Private First Class Derek Williams was the goofball of the group, and he was definitely well loved. Namjoon’s eyes never fully lit up when everyone’s anecdotes hit their punchline.

As the meeting draws to a close and people begin filing out, the group leader comes over to the both of you and asks Namjoon how his thoughts have been over the past week. It’s interesting that the man takes special interest in Namjoon. He nods and just casually replies, “I keep thinking it should have been me instead.”

His relaxed confession is absolutely shocking. Why would he say that? The older man seems to be as surprised as you are.

“Namjoon-ah, please don’t say such things,” the man urges. 

“I know how it sounds, I really do. I’m not going to do anything crazy, and I know it’s a pointless thought,” he shrugs. “It’s just how I’ve been feeling.” 

The older man nods. 

“Go in well-being, Namjoon. Please, call me if you need to.”

You find yourself walking out together. The sky is now fully dark and there’s an added chill in the air, urging you to pull your scarf up a little higher. At least it’s not raining anymore. It’s not usually this cold in Daegu at this time of year; you’re practically begging Spring to come. Although you’re in stride with each other, Namjoon feels like he’s a million miles away.

 “Hey,” you begin, hoping to ease the tension. “I’m sorry about your friend. He sounded like a really nice guy.” 

“Yeah, he was. Thanks. I’m sorry about your husband too. You seem to miss him a lot.” 

“Yeah, I do. Part of me still doesn’t believe he can really be gone. I feel like I’ve been walking around in a daze for the past week. All the paperwork I’ve had to sign. All the logistics. It’s all a little overwhelming so I… just kind of shut down most of the time. Our dog is still looking for him around the house, too, which is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Oh, shit. I couldn’t imagine. I have a dog too and... I don’t want to think about how confused they must be. That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

You both stop walking, because you realize you’ve allowed him to walk you all the way to your car. He didn’t even ask.

“Speaking of my son… I... actually need to go walk him. He’s been inside all day and it’s finally stopped raining. Huskies need exercise... So...”

Namjoon lights up a little. “Do you walk him on post?”

“No actually, we go to Duryu Park. He likes the ducks that gather at the pond. Although they probably won’t be doing very much at this time of night.”

“Hey, why don’t we go together?” he asks, “It’s dark out and it’s not a good idea for you to be by yourself.” 

“Excuse me?” you snap. He doesn’t know you’re a brown belt, but he sure is about to.

A flustered Namjoon begins stumbling over his words. “I’m just saying, you’re like really small and someone could easily—“

“Namjoon,” you laugh. “I think I can handle myself.”

“No, uh, what I’m trying to say is that there’s safety in numbers, you know? It would be difficult to fight off bad guys while keeping hold of your dog...” He has a good point. You’ve never walked Draco this late before. You don’t want to admit it, but your recent lesson in mortality has left you a little more than uneasy, especially now that Namjoon has made you think about it.

He continues his word vomit, mistaking your furrowed eyebrows for reluctance instead of consideration. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re very intimidating but—“

Oh my god, you can’t take it anymore. 

“Namjoon!” you exclaim and he finally, finally stops the verbal deluge. “Fine.” 

He seems astonished. “Really?”

“Yeah, meet me by the bridge that leads to the little island in the middle of the pond in like... 30 minutes. We usually do two laps around the water. And...” you pause, “thanks.” You’re a little annoyed at how persistent he can be, but he is really considerate.

His eyes sparkle in the light of the street lamps and you notice his gaze linger on your pursed lips. He does a... weird little hop and finally fully smiles at you. You’ve forgotten how utterly striking his full smile can be. Jesus Christ, how many teeth does this man have? His cheeks have become even more round and his eyes shrink into little half moons. Your stomach does somersaults as you bask in the glow of his happiness. Ugh, not again.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon!” he says, hurrying away. You don’t notice him glance back at you, and that’s probably a good thing.

You get in your car and put your forehead against the steering wheel. Why can’t you just say no to this man?

___________________________

You walk up to the start of the bridge with your pup in tow, who is obviously very pleased to be outside and at his favorite park to boot. The street lamps don’t cover much, but you can just make out a leggy figure standing next to a small white fluff ball. You’d forgotten he said he had a dog too. As you get closer, you see he’s got the leash handle around his wrist, because both his hands are holding two white cups with steam pouring out of the top. 

“What’s this?” you ask, as he extends one of the cups to you. Your dogs are busy sniffing each other, ears back and tails wagging. 

“Hot chocolate! It’s really cold out and I noticed you shivering when we got out of the group therapy building and I was going to get you coffee but I didn’t know what kind you like or how you take it plus it’s late and caffeine might keep you up all night and I didn’t want to—“

“Namjoon,” you cut him off before he explodes. “Thank you.” you reply, taking a sip of the hot drink and relishing in how it warms you up. You look back up at the handsome man, who is beaming down at you, enthralled in your pleased reaction. Warmth is beginning to spread through your body, and as your eye contact with him deepens, you begin to wonder if it’s just the hot chocolate. You can’t help yourself. “You do know that there’s a lot of sugar in hot chocolate though, right?” 

He furrows his eyebrows and panic soon consumes his face.

 “Oh! Right! I’m sorry I—“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I’ll be fine, promise. And if I’m not and you end up keeping me up all night, I guess I’ll just have to kick your ass.” you deadpan, which takes more effort than usual because now, you’re picturing him… keeping you up all night.

He starts laughing and you can’t help but to join him. He has a good, hearty laugh, one that makes his entire face light up. It feels really good to be laughing with him. 

“Oh!” he exclaims suddenly, “this is Moni!” gesturing down to the adorable American Eskimo at the end of the pink leash. 

You squat down to formally introduce yourself to Moni. You let him sniff your hand as your dog takes the opportunity to sneak some kisses on your face. 

“Bananas, stop!” you light-heartedly scold, but your pooch doesn’t get the message. He seems encouraged instead, and you are given no mercy by your big fluffy boy. 

Namjoon just laughs at how adorably frustrated you are. After he’s had enough entertainment, he extends a hand and helps you back up. This is the first time you’ve touched skin to skin, and your body is keenly aware of it. His hands are softer than you thought they’d be, and really warm. With how cold it is, you wish you could keep holding onto his strong yet elegant hands. Even after he’s released you, a symphony of tingles play in your legs, betraying you once again.

“Shall we then?” Namjoon asks, tilting his head down slightly so he’s looking at you through his eyelashes. Why does he have to do that? He can’t look at you like that. It’s illegal. Not allowed. He’s torturing you, and surely he has to know that. Or is he oblivious? He’s probably not even trying, because he has no reason to. He doesn’t even need to try. Which is kind of the problem, because you can’t exactly tell him to stop being so damn hot.

You can only answer him by tugging on your leash with a “let’s go!”

Over your walk, you talk about favorite places to eat in town and the different attractions you’ve come to love during your stay here. He talks about one of his best friends who grew up here in Daegu, so he knows all of these nice little spots only a local would typically know. You don’t have to wait for him to say Yoongi’s name before you know who he’s talking about, bringing up a hint of stinging remorse at your secret. He says they’re still in contact as much as they can be, but it tends to be difficult when they were both doing their compulsory service. Yoongi had finished his obligation, and is back in Seoul working on music. For his time, he was stationed right outside of Seoul working with the Korean Military Police, so he never really had to totally put down his work. He talks about Yoongi like they’re brothers, and it’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever seen. Namjoon doesn’t even try to hide how much he misses his friend.

He asks about where you grew up, and the question is kind of startling. It’s not that you’re not wanting to tell him, but you’re surprised that he wants to know.

“I grew up in Georgia, in the United States. It’s in the Southeastern part of the country.”

“Ah okay, so you grew up close to Atlanta?” he asks, full of curiosity. 

“Kind of! I was about a 4 hour drive from there. I grew up closer to the ocean.” you say, and notice his eyes light up when you mention the sea.

“There’s a guy in my unit,” he begins, “who did his training in Georgia. He said that there isn’t much there other than Atlanta...” he says, quickly noticing your bemused look. He catches himself and finishes, “but in hindsight he was likely biased.”

“He probably trained at Ft. Benning. If that’s the case, I don’t blame him for thinking that at all,” you say, “He’s actually kind of right, if that’s all of Georgia he got to see,” you continue, laughing a little.

“Well, what do you think of Georgia?”

“Hmmmm. I think I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. The area where I grew up was close to the beach, but there was also a lot of agriculture. My grandma even had a peach tree in her backyard. She’d let me go back there and pick a peach and eat it if I had behaved that day. Peaches are my favorite, so it was a pretty good motivator.”

“Georgia is known for their peaches, right?” he asks, but his tone tells you he already knows the answer to that. You had always thought people were exaggerating at how smart he is, but you can’t deny the fact any longer.

“Yeah, we’re even called the peach state. Peaches, pecans, sweet onions and peanuts all grow well there.” you say and he nods with understanding. 

“So what about the town you grew up in?”

“The town was pretty small, my high school maybe had 500 people in it. But the bigger city by us was great. A lot of different types of people. A lot of good food. God, I miss southern food a lot.” you gasp, grabbing his bicep with your free hand, “Namjoon! You haven’t lived until you’ve had good collard greens!” 

“Collard greens? I’ve never heard of that,” he says, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“It’s a side dish we eat down south. It goes with just about everything, but it’s best next to fried chicken and macaroni and cheese.”

“Macaroni and cheese…” he muses, letting the English words roll off his tongue, “I really want to try more American food. I’ve had plenty of hamburgers, but I want to try everything. PFC Williams always let me try his lunch if I asked him. He brought this thing called potato salad one day… that was an interesting experience.”

You sigh, “there’s much more to American food than just hamburgers and potato salad. Too bad there aren’t any real authentic American food restaurants here. Although, there is a Johnny Rockets on the other side of town. Is that where you get your hamburgers?”

“Yeah… it is. Chain restaurants are cheating though, right?”

“Yeah, basically. If you want real American food, you’ve got to get a real American to make it for you. I thought I really liked Korean food until I moved here. Americanized Koean food is not half as good as the real thing,” you assure him.

“I could have told you that,” he teases, giving you a light bump with his shoulder. “Do you have a favorite restaurant in town?”

You discuss the places you have come to love in Daegu, from restaurants to parks to shopping areas to museums. You both realize you enjoy art, although he prefers looking at it while you enjoy making it. The conversation ventures to Pollock and Monet and Van Gogh and you go on about how you just don’t get Picassos. He just lets you just rant about how much you hate his works for probably too long, until you’ve run out of breath and are forced to take a break.

“Wow, that bad huh? What did he ever do to you?” Namjoon chuckles.

“He destroyed my corneas with his kindergarten level bullshit, that’s what.” you snap, which only makes him laugh more.

“So it’s safe to say that you hate Banksy too, then?” 

“No way!” you say, “Banksy is a genius!”

He just continues to chuckle, clearly amused. “I will never understand you, woman.” 

“Are you trying to?” you quip before you can stop yourself, and his laughs die down. Oh, no. That was so direct. Way too direct. He’s got to know you’re into him now; he’d be a moron to not pick up on it. Your stomach is doing somersaults again, but not the good kind this time. You’ve known him for less than two days, so why did you think that was a good thing to say?

You chew your lip, worried of what he might be thinking. Or worse, what he might actually say. After an excruciatingly long silence, finally, it happens.

“Yes. I am.” 

What does that even mean?! Your thoughts are beginning to spiral again, and thankfully, he continues, albeit way too nonchalantly. 

“And honestly, it’s been really enjoyable to do.”

It’s been... enjoyable? Has he already forgotten how you met? This man must have a death wish if getting verbally murked by a strange woman in public was something he considered to be ‘enjoyable.’ You’re immeasurably grateful he isn't looking at you right now, because it’s nearly impossible to hide your astonishment. 

“So…” he begins slowly, “I hope you’ll continue to let me.”

What do you even say to something like that? Namjoon is so much nicer than you ever expected, and that fact is only making things more difficult for you. You’ve had more enjoyment in this one walk than you’ve had this whole week, but there’s about a million different reasons why you should stay away from him. If you only could have met under different circumstances, this might be something you could explore. Honestly, you would still love to explore the possibilities with him, even here and now, but the thoughts of your husband are difficult to push away. 

You recoil at that and curse yourself. 

They shouldn’t be pushed away! It’s not fair to your husband or to his memory. It wouldn’t even be fair to Namjoon! You can barely give yourself a hundred percent right now, much less a new friendship. On top of everything, you’re going to have to go back to the states in less than 6 months, which is an eventuality you’re not looking forward to facing. 

The only sounds now are the soft contact of your shoes against pavement, the tinkling of metal dog tags, and the cold breeze rustling the trees around the four of you. You were correct about there being no ducks out this late, and you find yourself missing their chatter. Anything to distract you from this confrontation would be welcome right now. As the silence grows longer, it becomes more and more difficult for you to respond. You’ve never been great with words, but what do you have to lose besides looking like an idiot? Besides, you’ve already done that. Like, yesterday. You take a deep breath and offer up the most broad explanation.

“Namjoon, I just can’t be a good friend to you right now.”

“That’s not what I’m asking for.” he simply replies, not missing a beat. Why is he being so stubborn? You’re going to have to elaborate. Forget trying to not make a fool out of yourself. He’s a good person, and he deserves your honesty-- at least most of it.

“I can’t be a good friend to you ever. I’m too consumed in my own baggage right now to help you carry yours. Plus, I’ll have to return to the States soon. I just… don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“That’s… not what I’m asking for,” he says again.

Frustration building up causes you to sigh at him. You’re going to need a little help from this infuriating dimpled tree-man, so you make him give it to you.

“What are you asking for, then?” you inquire with a little sting in your tone, leaving him with no room to continue being vague.

“I am asking to continue spending time with you. That’s it. I enjoy your company.” he says. This answer is still unacceptable to you because...

“I literally yelled at you in a parking lot yesterday, Namjoon,” you say.

“Yeah, but that was…” he trails off and scratches his head, “kind of my fault.” 

“You can’t be serious. You… didn’t know.”

“That might be true, but I still hurt you, and I’d like the chance to continue making it up to you. At risk of sounding really cheesy… Part of my job as a KATUSA is to be a symbol of the friendship and mutual support of our two fine countries... To learn from and assist each other... I don’t see why we couldn’t do that too...”

“That… really was cheesy, Namjoon,” you chuckle.

He smiles down at you, and your heart skips around in your chest. When he speaks again, he draws out the first word, clearly in a teasing mood now.

“Okay, but… did it work?” he teases with a sly grin as he side-eyes you.

Part of you wants to tell him no, but he does deserve honesty after all. At least mostly honesty. You want to reveal to him that you know who he is, but you’re unsure of the words to say. He seems eager to stay in your life here, for whatever reason. Compared to what you’ve just been through, nothing can really hurt you again. So what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have anyone else to spend time with. 

“Yeah,” you confess. “It did.”

“So,” he begins, “does that mean you’ll let me show you the museum you haven’t been to yet? There’s this once piece in there that is spectacular. You have to let me show you.”

After a considerable silence, he looks at you with soft, begging eyes and lets out a soft “Please?”

“Okay, Namjoon. You got it.”

You cannot say no to this man.

“Saturday then? In the morning? We’ll want to beat the crowd, especially if you want to explore the whole thing!”

“That works for me. You know, I’m actually looking forward to you being my personal tour guide.”

“Great! I guess you really must be from Georgia. You’re sweet, just like a peach.”

[ladydorian05]

A life in retrospection

(pic credit: @a7estrellas​)

#Pedros12DaysOfChristmas

Hello @scribbledghost​ !!! I couldn’t wait, I’m your Secret Santa darling!!!!!

I really, really, REALLY  hope you like this. This is actually the third try at writing your gift, I dot nervous and the self doubt worm hit me hard while writing. You mentioned you wanted ‘talking’, well my on the first one it was more talking than anything and was such a mess that I knew no amount of editing would fix it. I didn’t erase it completely I used some parts for the second one that served as the foundation for the final one.

It’s still a little bit of a mess, I suck at choosing titles and maybe the ending is a bit rushed.

Edit: Forgot to mention, Miss Daisy belongs to Scribbledghost, from her neighbour Whiskey series, check it out, you won’t regret it. 

A life in retrospection

Soulmate AU!

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x fem character (a name is mentioned so it’s not THAT reader friendly)

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, lil bit of depression, Jack goes to therapy so expect to read a different man (we really just yeeted a whole man and turn him into a better one, the beauty of fanfics), fluffiness, this man is not afraid to cry, allusions to spiciness but just implicit.

Words: 3K and something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t believe this was his life now.

He thought as he watched, through a window from the inside of his warm home, as the snowflakes fell outside.

Couldn’t believe he was capable of feeling such happiness again, not after everything he’s had to live through.

A few years ago, he almost committed the biggest mistake of his entire existence, condemning millions of people just because of his trauma. Good thing a pair of gentlemen helped knock some sense into him. Literally. And god bless Champ for giving him a second chance, since then, his life had been filled with second chances.

He finally went to see the Statesman therapist and work through his issues, he gave himself a second chance, to heal, to see the world in a different way.

What he never thought he would get, was a second chance at love, at being loved, but his beloved’s favorite pastime was to just prove him wrong every chance she got.

And prove him wrong she did.

Everyone has a soulmate, even him, and just like everyone else’s, his soul mark appeared on his thirteenth birthday. Right there, the name and the first letter of his soulmate’s last name etched into his skin in his soulmate’s handwriting and just like everyone he had been excited.

He spent countless hours staring at the letters on his wrist, studying the beautiful, soft and round letters, some of them just a breath away from being cursives. Always wondering when and if he would be able to meet the person they belonged to.

As the years passed, he became more aware of how small the chance that he would actually meet his soulmate was, and while he kept wondering about them from time to time, he didn’t stop himself from falling in love with someone else.

He shared many years with her, they got married just as they were fresh out of college, neither of them caring that they weren’t each other’s soulmates. Marriages like theirs weren’t rare at all, after all the world is way too big and life too short to spend it looking for one person.

Yes, life is short and it can be so cruel to the least deserving. The day he lost both his wife and unborn son was the day something inside him broke, something he thought could never be repaired again. He fell in an abysm of self blame that in time turned into bitterness and hatred for those who fell in the clutches of illegal substances. He really thought he would never love again.

Until one day. One fateful day thanks to a mix up with his order at his favorite coffee shop, he met her, his beloved; when their drinks had been served in the wrong cups by the new barista in training.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, what were the chances that said woman would turn out to also be his soulmate. From the moment he saw her he felt drawn to her. He knew it, the moment their fingers touched when they exchanged their cups. Something in him shifted with a rush of emotions, leaving him breathless.

Hell, even now she still leaves him breathless.

They had spent the rest of that day getting to know each other, they talked about everything and anything, as if they were old friends seeing each other again after some time apart. He had heard the stories multiple times, people would talk about how they felt the moment they found their soulmate, they all paled in comparison to the overwhelming feeling of being know in such a way by someone you had just met.

He felt so blessed just being able to be in her presence.

Indiana, Indy, his love, his Moonshine, the light of his life that pulled him out of the remaining darkness inside him. You gave him a second chance at love, at actually feeling alive and not just living. And he took it, he would’ve been and idiot if he hadn’t.

They decided to take it slow to truly get to know one another and see where this connection of theirs would take them. After all, not all soulmates went on the romantic route; some, were just destined to be platonic and neither option was better than the other, that’s just the way things were.

But after many dates, after both bared their souls to one another, they were happy to discover that all along there had been something growing between them and that the feeling was mutual.

They shared their first kiss beneath a starry sky, she had taken him to her favorite spot in the city, maybe the stars weren’t as visible as in other places due to the light pollution of the city but neither of you were really looking at them, too lost in one another. After that night everything fell into place.

In the following months, they spent as much time as they could together, lunch breaks, dinners, weekends at each other’s apartments watching movies, talking about work, about anything and everything.

After Champ had notified him that he was going to be allowed go back to field work, he invited you to dinner at his place. He decided to tell you everything then and there, about his wife, about his work; he had previously asked for permission for the last one, assuring his boss that this was serious and that he trusted you completely, he even told you about what he almost did during the whole Golden circle fiasco.

He had expected to see some kind of horror or judgement written in Indy’s face when he finally lifted his head when he stopped talking, he should have known better. He found understanding in your eyes, you told him how proud you were that he looked for help after everything he went through and that ‘James Bond job’ or not, you would be there for him.

You had also added an ��Of course your alias is Whiskey!’ that made him laugh, but that was beyond the point.

You only asked, that every time he was to go on a mission that he’d let you know, and if he had to leave at a moment’s notice, he would call or text you as soon as he could, you also asked him to be careful.

“We just found each other I don’t want to lose you.” Were your exact words. He remembers because he kissed you as soon as you said them, it started slow and full of gratitude but it soon changed into a passionate one.

That had been the first of many nights, and mornings, he got to share his bed with you. You moved together shortly after that night. Going to bed every night and waking up with you at his side soon became the highlight of his days, if he could he would spend a lifetime just lying with you in bed. He savours every moment he gets by your side.

He had been sure, long before the date of your first year anniversary approached; both of you chose it to be the day you met; that he wanted to be there for you, he wanted to protect you, to make you as happy as you make him, to be anything you needed him to be, a friend, a lover, a life partner; you just had to say it and he’d do anything become that person.

He made a decision. They had already discussed the subject of marriage on more than one occasion, so he was sure it was something you would want or wouldn’t be opposed to it eventually. He still thought about it, long and hard for days.

After his first marriage he never thought he would be open to, well, any kind of relationship that went beyond one-night stands, but that was before therapy, before he worked on the demons inside his head; and now, now he just hoped you would be willing to take an old man as your husband. Again, he should’ve known better.

He planned everything, a romantic dinner at good restaurant; not too over the top fancy but with good food; then he would take you on a romantic walk through Central park, he knew of a spot that had a beautiful gazebo with a view to a pond, he decided he would ask you there; and of course, he sent to polish his mother’s ring.

She gave him the ring some time after his wife passed away and made him promise that he would only give it to his soulmate if he met them. His parents had been soulmates, and his grandparents as well, she explained that the ring had been in the family for many generations and more times than not the marriages had been between soulmates, maybe she believed the ring would bring him luck in finding his own.

With everything carefully planned, he just had to wait for the day to arrive.

But even the best-laid plans, often go awry.

The date fell on a Friday, he was just about to clock in when he received a call from Champ, he and Vermouth; previously known as their Ginger ale; where called for an emergency mission. A Band of extremist where planning a bombing, they got the location of their hideout and were tasked to take them out immediately.

While the mission wouldn’t take him to the other side of the planet, it would take him to the other side of the country, he knew even if they hurried up, he wouldn’t be back in time for the reservation; in fact, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t be back until midnight.

He remembers how much he had apologized to you as he called you on the Statesman’s plane, and bless you and your beautiful heart, you took it in stride, telling him it was fine and that you could celebrate the next day, that all you needed was for him to return to you safe and sound.

And he did just that. At around two in the morning, he opened the door to the apartment he shared with you, he left his hat and jacket at the entrance. He was beginning to un button his shirt when he saw you sleeping on the couch, a box of pizza on the coffee table and the tv still on.

It made him feel guilty but it also warmed his heart that you had tried to wait up for him, he decided against waking you up. He turned the tv off and took you in his arms, you only stirred a little bit before your breath evened out again. He placed you on your side of the bed and tuck you in; he took all of his clothes off except for his briefs before joining you in bed.

The next morning, he stirred awake at the feeling of your lips leaving small kisses all over his chest.

“Mmgood morning Moonshine.” He said, his voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning to you too, cowboy. Sorry I woke you up, but I couldn’t resist.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, love. Can’t think of a better way to wake up.” He had pull you closer to his side, your head resting on his arm. “’m sorry I missed our anniversary.”

“None of that Jack, I told you it’s okay. Besides, you can always make it up to me.” You said with mirth, running your hand up and down his torso.

He chuckled. “What did I do to deserve you?” he muttered as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

Both of you stayed quiet, just enjoying the moment, basking in the feeling of being in each other’s arms; until he broke the comfortable silence.

“Marry me.”

The words had just slipped through his lips. He knew neither of you really needed fancy restaurants or romantic venues, you just needed each other. So, what better place and moment to ask you to be his wife, than in the warmth of the home you shared, lying in each other’s arms in their bed.

“What?” He felt your hand stop its movement right on top of his heart, he was sure you had felt how fast it was beating.

“I said, marry me, Moonshine. Please?” You sat on the bed, watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Jack Daniels, you better not be joking.” You had pointed a finger to him.

“Tell me my love, if I wasn’t serious, would I have this?” He said as he also sat on the bed and reached inside of the drawer of the nightstand, taking the velvet box in his hand; not the best hiding place but he hadn’t planned for it to stay there for a long time; he opened it to show you the ring inside.

“Oh my god Jack!” you covered your mouth with your hands as your eyes became glossy with unshed tears.

“Indy, Indiana, my love, my Moonshine, my soulmate. You have no idea how blessed I feel to have you in my life, there aren’t enough words in the world to help me express how much I love you, how much you mean to me. You’re an amazing person, so kind, intelligent, strong and beautiful, and I’ll be more than honored to be your husband, if you’ll have me.” He held his breath as he watched you process what he just said.

He was beginning to get worried when you just sat there for a few seconds, that felt like an eternity to him, staring at him without saying a word. You took him by surprise when you jumped into his arms, just as he was considering on telling you that it was okay if you didn’t want to or that you could take your time before answering.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes Jack! Of course I’ll have you!” By the time he got the ring on your finger both of you were a sobbing mess. He didn’t let you leave the bed until way past noon, and only because neither of you had had breakfast. He had to take good care of his fiancée.

The wedding had been beautiful, only your closest friends and family were invited to the event.

Sometime after the wedding, Champ asked him to move back to Kentucky, he offered him a promotion, he offered him his own position in Statesman, saying that he was ready to retire and that he thought that, out of everyone else, he was the best candidate for it.

His past self would have jumped at the opportunity, not only would he be in charge of the intelligence agency, he would also become the major stockholder of the distillery; but he wasn’t that man anymore, it was a huge responsibility, even if it came with its benefits.

And he had a wife. Your friends lived here, your work was here, you had built a life for yourself in this city long before he came into your life; he couldn’t just go home and tell you ‘Darling, guess what? We’re moving to Kentucky!’ and he refused to leave you behind.

He thanked Champ for the offer and asked him for some time to think about it. He told you about it as soon as he got home. He told you that he couldn’t just ask you to leave what you worked so hard to get behind and follow him down south.

You let him speak, you let him ramble on and on about why it wasn’t a good idea, he also listed some of the positive things that came with accepting the promotion.

“Wait a minute.” You interrupted him in the middle of his tirade. “As the head or director or whatever you guys call it, you would be permanently stationed in Kentucky? As in no more field work?”

“Well, yes and no. At first yes, Champ will have to show me the ropes of everything, then I’ll probably still be active for some years but then well yes, eventually I won’t be sent on missions as frequently as right now. There’s also managing the distillery and that means normal corporate stuff like business trips and all that; it won’t be that different from what I already do here.” You nodded at his words.

“Do it. You have my support.” His eyes widened at that.

“But, but Moonshine, what about your work!?”

“What about it? I’m sure I can request a transfer, and if not I’m sure I can get a new job, it’s not like we’re moving to the middle of nowhere; I could also become a free-lancer.” You listed. “Listen Jack, if moving south means you’ll be risking your life less and less as time goes on, then we’re moving south.” And that was the end of the discussion, he knew the decision was made.

He let you choose the new house, he only asked for enough land to get a horse or two in the future; he was dying to take you on romantic rides; and you chose a beautiful roomy one, neither of you wanted to dismiss the possibility of children. The extra points of the house were the beautiful chimney inside and the fire pit on the back porch, it also had a barn not far from the main building.

And it was good that the house was quite large because half a year after moving in, he convinced you to go with him to a local farm animal expo on his day off. As you browsed through the various handmade items in display, he stumbled upon a woman selling teacup pigs, and while he had always considered himself more of a horses and dogs person, his curiosity got the better of him.

They were so adorable, one in particular caught his attention, he couldn’t resist the adorable beaded eyes looking straight at him; before he knew it, he was making his way back to you holding the little piggy in his arms.

He got a “Jack, why are you holding a pig like a baby?” from you the moment you saw him.

“Because she is! Just look at her she’s so cute, she’s my cute little lady.”

The conversation about the new member of their family continued on the way back home.

“I hope you’re not thinking about letting her stay inside the house once she begins to grow.”

“What are you talking about? Miss Daisy’s a teacup pig; she’ll only grow an inch or maybe three at most.”

“Oh, so it’s Miss Daisy! She already has a name and all that. I’m warning you; I’m not going to pick up what Miss Daisy produces after eating.” You said. “Wait, teacup pig? You are aware there’s no such thing as teacup pigs, right?”

“What do you mean? The woman said they were all teacup pigs.”

“Oh my god. My love, you have been deceived.”

He may not know a lot about pigs, but he couldn’t believe that that sweet woman had outright lied to him, right?

Wrong. Like always, you were right, and he fucked up. At least he eventually convinced you to let him keep Miss Daisy inside. She’ll always be a baby to him, no matter how big she got.

And then, he became an actual father. It wasn’t enough for you to give him so much love and happiness, now you had given him the greatest gift of all. She was perfect, from her tiny nose to her even tinnier toes.

If he had cried when you agreed to marry him, and cried even more when you gave him the news of your pregnancy; he was sure he cried a river the day their daughter was born.

Here he was, years later, still madly in love with you, still feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

He was brought back from his memories by a pair of hands sliding around his middle from behind.

“Hey, I made hot chocolate, want a cup?” He turned around to properly face you, a big smile on his face. “What? Do I have some coco powder on me?”

“No,” he shook his head “no. It’s just, well, you just took my breath away.” He said wiggling his eyebrows up and down in the way he knew always made you laugh.

“Pffff, Jack, I married you, you can stop saying stuff like that.”

“On the contrary, Moonshine, I shall keep on stating the truth of how my stunning wife makes me feel every single day of my life.” He leaned to give you a sweet short kiss.

“You haven’t answered Mr. Daniels, hot chocolate or do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Mmmm, I’ll have the chocolate this time, gotta honor the drink that brought you into my life, Mrs. Daniels.” He pressed his forehead against yours.

“What’s gotten into you today?” You asked, laughing softly as the hairs of his moustache tickled your upper lip.

“Nothing, just been reminiscing my happiest memories. Want to know a secret?” He whispered the question. “They’re all about you.” He leaned in for another kiss when the voice of his little girl calling for him reached them.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look! Look at Miss Daisy! Isn’t she pretty?” He turned his head from his Moonshine as his daughter came running up to them in her cute pajamas, just in time to see Miss Daisy as she came waddling behind his lil’ sweetheart wearing a pink tutu, a tiara and he noticed her glittery pink painted hooves.

“Wow, sweetheart! She’s really pretty!” He tried to sound excited for his daughter’s sake, but he knew it came out more strained than he wanted.

She giggled before running off back to her room, with, once again, Miss Daisy running after her.

“Want me to google if that nail polish could be potentially harmful for her while you put our little tornado to sleep?” God bless his wife.

“Yes, please.” He let out a sigh. “You’re amazin’ Moonshine.” He turned back to you before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

“I got you, cowboy.” He had to separate from your arms so he could go help their daughter keep her bed time schedule, otherwise they’ll surely have a cranky child for most of the next day.

“Hey honey! You want a bed time story?” he heard a distant ‘yay’ and a couple of snorts in response. “Be right back babe.” With a wink as he walked towards their daughter’s room.

Maybe he’ll never get used to this much happiness in his life, but he’ll never complain, what were the odds that he would meet his soulmate and build a beautiful home and a beautiful family with her. He must have done at least something right if he got to live this life.

And he will live it, to its fullest.

Tag list (do let me know if anyone wanst to be tagged in future works):

@oloreaa​

[cattles-bians]

Damie Vibecca exes AU part 4

post directory

[em note: this one is LONG i had to split it!!!]

obsetress: deflecting to viola protecting becs

obsetress: once they are dating

obsetress: and thinkin thoughts

em: viola asks rebecca if she wants to put a hit out on peter and rebestiecca is like????

em: that’s hot but

em: u can do that? also maybe don’t. but mostly that’s hot

obsetress: i was literally gonna say peter is still her ex and he's a persistent fucker even though it's been a year at least and viola's response is... not far off from canon!

obsetress: becca just stares at her for a minute and then she's cupping viola's cheek and murmuring "come here" and pulling her down

obsetress: they're like kissing or whatever and rebecca's murmuring "that was hot, you know" between kisses and viola's like "oh?" and becca's like "don't be cheeky, you know it was" and vi just grins against her mouth

em: I’m Really Invested In This Crack Ship

obsetress: ok but rebecca tells jamie and dani about vi offering to put a hit on peter and they're both understandably and reasonably aghast and rebecca's just like (takes a sip of wine, ducks head, smiles to self) i think it's sweet

obsetress: dani and jamie look at each other out of the corners of their eyes

obsetress: (later, dani agrees how absolutely out of line it is but also admits that it sure does feel nice to be so taken care of sometimes)

obsetress: (jamie throws a pillow at her)

obsetress: also thinking about secret soft vibecca are sometimes and how horrified dani and jamie are the first time they see it with their own eyes

em: jamie and dani excessive PDA queens get a taste of their own medicine

em: it’s so funny that i’m like. always on the verge of viola horny posting but as soon as it’s vibecca i’m like look at these babies. these beautiful babies

obsetress: viola and rebecca kissing one (1) time at brunch and jamie, arm slung around dani’s shoulders, is like “oi, no one wants to see that” and dani, leaning into jamie, one hand in her lap, crinkles her nose and rebecca’s like “y— you’re kidding, right?”

obsetress: also like. we talk a lot about what vi does for rebecca but also like

obsetress: vi massive abandonment issues and rebecca just

obsetress: she just stays

em: ur gonna Kill me here lies em

obsetress: i know i didn’t mean to and then i just

obsetress: i can’t think too hard abt them or i will Melt Down but just like

em: look if rebecca can see the best in someone as awful as peter

em: viola isnt nearly as terrible

obsetress: esp vi post dani like

obsetress: she’s obnoxious and haughty and neoliberal but

obsetress: radical love goes a long way!

obsetress: rebecca grounding her thru touch and rebecca slipping her hands around vi’s and easing them loose when vi’s hands start to clench and rebecca just pressing a kiss to viola’s temple and murmuring “i’m here, yeah? with you. not going anywhere”

em: like i just think after eddie dani wouldnt like, just go w the flw any more. like i think abt her challenging viola occasionally

em: lovingly! gently

but like, holding her accountable

em: also violas absolutely little spoon

em: like i know blah blah viola top rebecca top leaning switch but viola little spoon

obsetress: “actually viola” (vi always knows she’s in trouble when dani calls her viola) “that was really hurtful” “i’m sorry you feel that way, dani, but—“ “i don’t need you to be sorry for how i feel. i need you to show me you’re sorry for what you did”

em: dani calls vi the Full Name and viola knows shes in trouble bc thats at least 4 extra vowels w danis midwest accent

em: it is always v surprising how much like, working w kids equips you to work w adults. b/c at least w kids you dont have layers and layers of social nuance to work through. u can just say 'hey. that was hurtful and your apology sucks'

obsetress: meanwhile dani’s over here trying to explain to vi intent vs impact and how no, it’s not semantics or nuance, it’s actually kind of a chasm

em: i kind of love like um. look viola is terrible but she wasnt born terrible

obsetress: she just has a lot to unlearn

em: and id belive that even if i wasnt a ghostfucker thats just rogers theory of self actualisation babyeee

obsetress: dani viola big fight n dani's like

obsetress: "i'm sorry and i love you but it's not my job to fix you, vi" and she just breaks down and she's like "it's not"

obsetress: jesus why did my brain take THAT turn

em: wrow

em: its ok i was gonna be like 'so they obvs break up at some point....'

obsetress: anyway viola just stares at her for a second and then she's like "you put the 'i'm sorry' before the 'i love you'"

obsetress: and dani just stares at her for a long time and she's like "yeah. i guess i did"

em: HANNAH

em: BESTIE

obsetress: i KNOW what the FUCK

obsetress: anyway dani's like "i guess i did" and vi's like "is that it then?" and dani just looks at her with her puffy eyes and is like "i think so"

obsetress: dani clayton queen of saying "i love you" over and over in the midst of breaking up w someone

em: well! she has a lot of love to give but, she also has to love herself sometimes!

em: i was thinking abt scenarios n i just remembered that. whole video rental shop thing so i think that slots in nicely

[em edit: u can read here]

obsetress: god i love that lil scene

em: dani sends viola a tentative little meme peace offering and they get back to talking and its nice but maybe a bit awkward and viola mentions like, going to therapy and seeing someone for help n its

obsetress: vi's stewing on "i can't fix you" for weeks and then she's begrudgingly. BEGRUDGINGLY calling a therapist

em: like its still awkward and dani is still nursing some wounds but she can ALSO be happy for someone she used to care about

em: still cares about!

obsetress: she's always gonna love her in some way or another

obsetress: but yeah also like. smth to viola being too stubborn to do anything she doesn't wanna do except suddenly when dani clayton gets involved and that feels p canon in its own way too

em: 'i cant fix u' weird bc every time i see viola im like 'i can fix her'

obsetress: it's like ur in my head bestie

em: how do u think viola and rebestiecca met

em: not that u think abt it or anything

obsetress: MAN i was just thnking

obsetress: in this universe how did dani and jamie meet but i guess it can still just be bly tbh

obsetress: as for vi and bestiecca hmmm

em: am so caught up in the joy of fucked up interpersnal dynamics i forgot a meet cute

obsetress: honestly part of me wants to be like

obsetress: on some dating app but a dating app for posh people yk

obsetress: but then i'm like

obsetress: that takes all the meet cute fun out of it

obsetress: oh GOD

obsetress: i got it

obsetress: ready

obsetress: so like viola landlord we know this

obsetress: and then i was watching whatever ep three the other day and bex mentions wanting to do public law right

em: oooooh

obsetress: bex public housing attorney

em: OOH

obsetress: they meet at some conference

obsetress: hit it off prob fuck lbr

obsetress: and then

obsetress: comedy of errors

obsetress: whoever stays the night, they sleep together again in the morning, breakfast in bed, bex is like "so what do you do, anyway"

em: hjgbjshmdnfbmngbmhnbgs,hndg m,shndgds

em: YES

obsetress: and then they just

em: WHEEZES

obsetress: also i like to think rebecca invites vi back to her hotel room and vi is so charmed by her taking charge ("""taking charge""") that she lets her

obsetress: and then like

obsetress: god for a while what if they just like

obsetress: they're so mortified and morally and fundamentally at odds but like

obsetress: the sex is so good???????

obsetress: that they keep just meeting up and then

em: romeo and juliet situation

obsetress: yk how it goes

obsetress: the sex is good and they see each other as like

em: thats so fucking good thank u hannah

obsetress: super rare intellectual equals whatever

obsetress: thank u i am exceedingly proud rn

obsetress: honestly at this point i'm

obsetress: rebecca and vi uhaul change my mind

obsetress: like not too quick because isabel but, quick enough to be considered

em: so the joke is like. obviously 'extremely pda damie' but when rebecca and vi are alone they Also cannot get their hands off each other

obsetress: they both just. worry about appearances too much meanwhile

obsetress: tweedle dee and tweedle dum in the overalls and mom jeans dgaf

em: accidentally seeing ur friends compromised is just part of the package of being friends w damie. however jamie accidentally catches vibecca in the act and shes Horrified

em: hypocrits

em: danis like yeah what do u. think theyre doing

em: dani is nonchallant bc shes dated viola of all people

obsetress: i mean could you imagine

obsetress: between vi and dani's just

obsetress: insatiable libido

em: HADNT IMAGINED UNTIL NOW BUT YEAH

obsetress: dani, very seriously: jamie, when two women love each other––

em: dani likes dating jamie bc it means she can top occasionally :) maybe even more than occasionally

em: jamies like ooh my god i knw i know how are u so casual about... rebecca... and ... viola... (dani just pulls her in fr a smooch)

obsetress: they have each other's clothes half off and dani's like "i'm so casual because i dated her too, babe" and jamie's like "can we not have this conversation right n"

obsetress: also i still have this on my clipboard from earlier we bopped around so fast but

obsetress: vi and bex hooking up early on:

obsetress: rebecca knocks on vi's door at, like, 6:00 pm after work, vi opens it, rebecca just grabs her and kisses her, vi pulls her in, becca kicks it closed behind her, vi shoves her against the door and they're kissing against it, then vi's ducking her head to kiss along rebecca's neck and rebecca's like "how many people did you evict today" as she angles her head and then viola's finding her lips again and tugging at her lower lip with her teeth "probably not as many landlords as you shortchanged today" and rebecca's laughing and pushing her backwards down the hall as viola tugs at her blouse

em: GOD. viola is probably like

em: ok, disclaimer: fuck all landlords

em: but at least in this fantasy world perhaps viola is 'fairly' 'reasonable' n shes absolutely playing it up for the hate sex angle n rebecca Maybe Assumes shes lying but

em: stupid morons in love

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: i think i've mentioned this before but like

obsetress: now that it's more fleshed out

obsetress: then they're at drinks one night (and when did it go from just sex to drinks? neither of them could tell you) and viola's kinda quiet n moody (n rebecca already knows she Gets Like This sometimes and that she'll usually say whatever she's thinking eventually) and finally she's like

obsetress: "i have... a daughter" and rebecca's just like "tell me about her" like it's the easiest thing in the world

obsetress: and viola's head snaps over and she stares because she was.... not expecting that

obsetress: and so viola does

obsetress: and rebecca's just like "i'd love to meet her one day"

em: soft.....

obsetress: they always turn back to soft

obsetress: like they have a fuckin mind of their own

em: rapidly oscillate between horny and soft

obsetress: that's the mood

em: violas probably like. yknow, rebecca's young and up and cming n she probably assumes rebesticca isnt interested as something as full on as a kid but shes like 'do you have any photos'

obsetress: fuck!!!!!!!!!

em: rebeccas like do u think i didnt. see the photos at ur apartment lmao

em: theres a childs drawing on the fridge

obsetress: rebecca has known almost from the jump but was

obsetress: giving viola her time

obsetress: also smth smth giving her time instead of time wearing her away etc etc we're all in hell

em: cracks knuckles

em: bestie....

obsetress: pls

obsetress: it's what i deserve

obsetress: first tho

obsetress: consider

obsetress: the way viola's face lights up when she's talking about isabel and showing rebecca all the pictures

obsetress: hold pls

em: soft......

obsetress: this one chief

obsetress: right here

[twoidiotwriters1]

June, 1976 (WITT One-Shot)

A/N: If you want to remain in the taglist pls interact with this one-shot even if you haven’t read book 4-5 yet. A like or a comment is fine, the people who don’t want to continue reading obvsly do not interact and I’ll delete from the taglist :) -Danny

Words: 2,590

Series’ Masterlist

Emily was tired, but she'd spent all day overthinking and she was done, it was time to grow up.

She could hear Lily Evans' voice ushering Severus Snape away, he'd been coming around for several hours during the day trying to apologize, but he'd finally crossed a line.

"It's not your fault, you know?"

Matthew's voice caught her attention, he'd stopped at the foot of the stairs, one hand propped on the wall.

"Snape and Evans have been fighting for months now, I think it's because of what he's been doing with the Slytherins... you know, the cult stuff."

Emily averted her gaze to the fireplace.

"I know..."

Matthew hesitated, he'd promised himself that he wouldn't go back to being Emily's therapist, but something was different this time, it wasn't her usual kind of sulking.

"Are you okay?"

She looked at him over her shoulder and frowned.

"I'm not the one who got called 'mudblood' by a close friend."

"No, you weren't," He admitted. "Which is why it's so strange to see you all sad."

"I'm not sad."

"Is this about James?"

He didn't want to know, but alas, he'd asked.

"No," She made a face. "I don't think I care about him that way anymore."

"It's easier said than done," Matthew crossed his arms, his shoulder now leaning on the archway of the stairs.

"What do you want, Ruddy?" Emily groaned.

"I don't want anything from you," The boy replied. "But I have the feeling that you need to talk."

"I do," She said. "Not with you, though."

Matt nodded, he sighed.

"Good luck, then, have a good night."

"'Night."

Emily watched him disappear up the stairs, she didn't know why, but the memory of his burning gaze before he kissed her came back then, his intense determination as he held her closer... That moment Emily had found herself unable to move away, to say no. She wished she had his courage to just do stuff even when he was intimidated by them, she needed that kind of bravery tonight.

Lily Evans entered the tower two minutes later, Emily stood up abruptly and the redhead came to a halt.

For a moment none of them spoke, then Lily's face showed tons of fatigue.

"What now? Is it your turn to call me a stuck-up bore because I didn't agree to go out with Potter?"

Emily shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Can we talk?" She asked shyly. "I promise it's not a trick... I'm sorry."

Emily's behaviour towards her was usually hostile, tonight her voice was gentle, and even a little afraid.

"You're sorry?"

"I don't expect you to believe me," Emily continued, lowering her gaze. "I know you and Snape were close — I don't understand how can you like him... listen I suck at apologies, can't you just say it's alright so we can go to bed?"

Lily crossed her arms, standing straighter.

"No, I think I want you to try harder."

Emily groaned, she sat down heavily and started to think her words carefully, Lily inched closer.

"Boys can be cruel when they're not thinking — Anyone, really... I've been brutal myself — Matthew and I almost stopped being friends a few months ago, because I don't like talking about my feelings," She laughed dryly. "I don't know what is it about today that it just... I don't want to be a tormentor my whole life, let alone to someone who is... tolerable. I'm sorry for making your life a living hell these past few years."

Lily sat down, although she kept the seat between them empty to keep some distance.

"You didn't make my life a living hell," She replied. "I... can admit you're a bit clever... even likeable — that last match when you threw Lewis a bludger after he called you a midget... it was kind of funny."

"The boys walked me everywhere that week, they thought Ernest was going to try and get back at me," Emily bit her lip, but she was now smiling. "I mean, I lived in fear for days! Thinking he would spike my drink at some point with poison or something... Until Matthew cornered him outside D.A.D.A. class one day, poor Lewis... he looked so small in comparison..."

"Anyone looks small next to Matthew, he's a giant," Lily grinned. "Well, if it's any consolation, I was planning on murdering you in a much classier manner than poison, but since you've apologized, I guess I won't have to kill you after all."

Emily snorted, her eyes lingered on Lily, who looked like she'd been crying for most of the day, and yet still had enough energy to sit down and talk with the girl she'd detested for the last four years.

"Why are you being nice?" She asked in annoyance. "I mean I'm glad you're kind of accepting my apology, but I thought you'd be a bit colder, walking away before I could even finish..."

"What kind of person do you think I am?" Lily raised a brow, with the orange light coming from the fireplace her green eyes looked far more intense than usual. "If I'm honest, you should thank Remus... he's tried to convince me that you lot are far better than you look..."

Emily sighed, when she was young she'd do mischief for fun, but now that she was older, and considering all the weird stuff that was happening outside the school, she was starting to think that maybe her group of friends were indeed changing for the best.

"I'm going to be honest with you too, Evans," The girl took a deep breath. "Being the only girl in my friend group is turning out to be pure torture. I'm in desperate need of a girlfriend."

Lily's mouth twitched a bit, but she didn't laugh.

"What makes you think I want to be your friend?"

"Oh, I don't think you want to," She raised a brow. "But maybe if we're on good terms I'd be able to ask you for a tampon without having to swallow my pride first."

Lily did laugh at this, she shook her head. "Holy Merlin, Sultens, you're loopy."

"You would be too if you were seated next to Sirius every day!" She paused. "So... are you willing to make peace?"

Lily examined her carefully, four long years of quarrels sat between them, but a lifetime of friendship could be ahead if Emily was truly sorry. She was a nice girl, and really smart too, she was annoying only when she was taunting Severus, and he was no longer her friend.

Lily stretched out her hand.

"Very well, but if you go back the deal is over and we'll be less than strangers, understood?"

"Sure."

She retreated her hand before Emily could grab it.

"Hang on — this is not Potter's idea, right? You're not trying to be my friend just so I date him later?"

"Lily, if anything I hope you and James never date," Emily snickered. "Nothing personal, you're just way too good for him."

"...Alright."

They shook hands, she'd meant what she said about it not being personal. James was a boy, a very silly one at that, and even though they were really close friends, Emily was no longer a blind supporter of his doings.

Funnily enough, this seemed to be related to Matthew, she couldn't stop thinking about that kiss! Merlin, he was a good kisser...

She shook the thought away, now was not the time for nonsense.

"I'm very honoured to be your acquaintance, Evans," Emily grinned.

"Call me Lily. Only Professors call me Evans... and Potter, but you know I hate that."

"Got it, Lils."

July 1996

"...I don't think this is right," Mel tilted her head. "Brownies are mean to be brown... not pitch-black."

"You burned them," Harry was standing behind them with his arms crossed, clearly upset.

"How could you burn them, Erick? They were in there for five minutes!"

"Are you sure..." Erick stabbed the mixture with a knife and made a face. "Ugh — they're still liquid in the middle!"

"How the fuck did you do this?"

"I thought it would work just the same if I doubled the heat and put less time," Erick sulked. "Ovens are weird."

"This is why we told you to stay out of it," Harry replied. "You don't know how muggle stuff work."

"I do know!"

"Then why did you burn the brownies?"

"Don't fight," Mel intervened, grabbing the platter and throwing its contents away. "Oh well, at least we ruined my birthday cake and not someone else's..."

"That's not okay," Harry frowned. "You should have a proper cake."

Mel looked at him and grinned. "I'll eat yours, then."

"How's everything going in here?" Emily walked in, behind her Lupin followed.

"Uncle Lu!" Mel rushed over to his side and hugged him, the man chuckled. "You came!"

"Well, hadn't been around for your birthday in a long time, I thought you'd like it," He said, lovingly patting her back.

"I do," She beamed. "We kind of ruined the cake, though, so we should buy doughnuts or something."

"It's a good thing I brought this, then," Lupin lifted his bag and placed it on the table, inside there was a beautifully adorned red velvet cake.

"You just saved my birthday!"

Harry and Erick shared a moody expression and grumbled complaints, Lupin laughed.

"The kids insisted on doing the cakes this year," Emily explained. "I told them it was not an easy job, but they insisted."

"Mel and I have done this before, Erick was the one who wanted to be in charge when he can't even make tea without magic," Harry glared at him.

"Muggles stuff are too complicated, alright?" He huffed.

"I don't mind," Mel said without paying attention to them, she was still beyond happy with her uncle's presence. "I wanted to give my mum a break, Leggie's been a bit hard to handle lately..."

"Is he?" Lupin looked at the little boy Emily was holding. "Is he ill?"

"No, he just cries a lot," The woman sighed. "Wakes us up every night."

"I thought that forcing my mother to bake when she's clearly too tired to be doing anything apart from feeding a baby was a crime," Mel stated. "So I took care of it."

"Then Flint messed it up," Harry taunted.

"And then you fixed it, Uncle Moony," The girl smiled. "So there's no harm done, right boys?"

She looked over her shoulder, raising a brow as if urging them to stop bickering before they embarrassed her in front of Lupin. Both mumbled their agreement, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Lovely," Mel looked back at the adults. "Who wants lunch?"

Mel and Erick were in the kitchen talking in hurried whispers, she appeared to be upset, the young man too. Emily and Remus were in the drawing-room, Harry was upstairs changing Reg's diaper.

"Do you know why they're arguing?" Remus asked, staring at the pair.

"Dumbledore came by this morning before breakfast," Emily sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. "Talked about this mission he had for Erick — you know how eager to help that boy is... so of course the old man came and put his offer on a silver platter, and Mel won't let Erick go on his own, so being the generous soul Dumbledore is," She said sarcastically, "He said she could go too if she wanted to."

"Really?" Remus frowned. "Well... he's been giving her lessons for years, Mily, perhaps he knows she can handle it."

"I don't care," She said bluntly. "That's my daughter, my daughter. Matt's daughter. How can he continue to risk my family's life like it's nothing?"

"You know Matthew did all he that because he wanted to, Dumbledore had nothing to do with his decisions."

"I know," Emily took a deep breath. "But he's got a lot to do with Mel's... she idolizes him."

"You think so?" The man looked over his shoulder again, staring at his goddaughter.

"I don't see why else she'd be so keen to follow his orders..."

"Maybe because she feels guilty?" Remus offered. "After what happened in the ministry..."

Emily pressed her lips together, she didn't want to talk about that.

"That's not her fault and she knows it. I told her it wasn't."

"You weren't there," He said gravely. "She went out of control. I had never seen anything like it, her magic was dark— I mean that literally. All the spells she did came out pitch-black. Dumbledore was the only one who could put a stop to it."

Emily's eyes grew worried, she looked over her shoulder as well and her gaze landed on Mel.

"You think it could be the same thing that Ariana Dumbledore had? That disease?"

"No one knows what happened to her," Remus said. "Not even Matthew knew, and he was part of the family... but it could be. Maybe Dumbledore knows something we don't, maybe this will help her... perhaps she needs this."

Emily stayed silent for a moment, then she groaned.

"I hate that we're always meant to trust him blindly."

"He's lived a hundred years, he might be wiser than all of us, don't you think?"

The woman scoffed, she looked ahead, deep in thought.

"A hundred years... Matthew couldn't even make it to twenty-one! James and Lily barely did... Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban — But at least we all knew how the war looked like then, Remus. We fought for years... my daughter just turned sixteen, she still goes to school!"

"And yet she's already done her fair amount of fighting," The man raised a brow. "We didn't have the experiences she's gone through when we were her age. I stand with Dumbledore, she can do this."

"I'm not saying she can't," Emily grabbed the empty plates to take them to the kitchen. "I'm saying she shouldn't have to sacrifice her youth. Dumbledore asks for too much, I'm sure he's got someone else that could help him with the mission, but he's obsessed with making Mel his perfect copy."

Remus didn't try to argue back, little could convince Emily at this point, she'd never been a fan of Dumbledore, and after Matt's death it was no secret that she openly disliked him, but she still followed his orders, because she knew Dumbledore was the only chance they had to win this war.

Mel and Erick entered the room, neither of them angry, which made Remus think they had reached an agreement.

"I should leave," The man stood up. "Leon's been quiet, maybe Harry managed to make him sleep."

"Or maybe he's just playing with him," Emily stood up as well. "Really, I never thought Harry would get so attached to a baby..."

"I'll miss you, Uncle Lu, I hope to see you soon," Mel said, her eyes avoiding to look into Erick's direction.

"Me too, little Em," Remus hugged her tightly, he whispered in her ear. "Be good to your mother, alright?"

Mel looked at him with confusion, but she nodded anyway.

"So?" Emily crossed her arms. "What are you going to do?"

The young witch stared at her mother, Remus knew that expression. It was true and very strange, how she could have her dad's gaze even though her eyes were exactly like her mother's, but he knew that look, he'd seen it in Matt the last time they had spoken. Mel was done being a kid.

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee​ @thelastpyle @hamiltonwc

[neerasrealm]

POV: Jeff the killer kidnapped you and is venting to you about his internalized homophobia

I COULDN’T THINK OF AN ACTUAL TITLE SO I WENT WITH THAT

Anyway hi this is a jeffxben fic told from jeff’s POV. a little bit angsty but mostly just cuddles and comfort. and one-liners. lots of one-liners. The ending is a lil messy and idk man I didn’t know how to finish the fic so- ignore that

Based on one of these story starters.

Word count: 1907

There are three things you need to know before you read this.

One; hi, I'm Jeff. Nice to meet ya.

Two; I killed my parents three and a half years ago. I know that's a lot to dump on you immediately but it'll be important later.

And three….I'm...gay. There. I said it. I like guys. I'm attracted to men. I want to kiss guys. Or specifically- one guy. 

He has blonde hair, dark skin and bright blue eyes. And also pointed ears. He's a ghost, specifically one that's latched onto a Nintendo 3DS and a cartridge of Majora's Mask 3D. He looks like Link- but I'm not attracted to Link. Link is a twink and that's not my style. 

His name is Ben and Ben? Ben is a bro. He's my bro. He's everyone's bro- he has that natural charisma that makes everyone like him. He's friendly, polite, funny and laid-back. He's always down to hang out with you or invite you into his room to play videogames. Everyone likes Ben. But me? I love Ben. As in- love love him. I want to kiss his goofy face. His lips probably taste like cheetos and beef jerky. Gross. I hate how much I think about how his lips would taste. 

So now you're probably thinking "hey Jeff, why are you just vomiting your gay thoughts on me? Go tell him you love him."

But There's A Problem.

My parents- the dead ones- were really homophobic. Being gay just wasn't something you did. And it still feels wrong to me- which is weird considering the fact that my new adoptive parents are two gay men and my foster siblings are mostly homosexuals. But it still feels wrong. No matter how much I'm exposed to it I still feel that slight guilt whenever I catch myself admiring Ben while he trash talks someone, and I want to punch myself whenever I wake up from a dream about cuddling him. 

So that brings me to this situation. 

Picture this, okay? I'm sitting on his bed with a controller in my hand. We're playing smash bros and having a great time. I'm having...not a good day. You remember the dead parents thing? The trauma I mentioned? Yeah that's been haunting me all fucking day and I'm not feeling good. At all. And of course I'm not gonna tell anybody about it, because that means I have to address the problem. And I never, ever, address problems. Ever. They'll fester in me till the day I die. Like maggots.

That's gross I apologise.

But- yeah. I'm not feeling good and I'm hiding this fact from Ben because he cheers me up way better when he doesn't know I'm sad. 

"Hah! Gotcha!" 

"Shit-!" I swear as my character (king k rool, in case you wondering) flies off the stage. Ben laughs and woops beside me in victory. I shoot him a glare.

"Man you suck at this game." He laughs.

"I don't suck." I spit back. "You're just really good."

"Suuure you are." The smug look he gives me makes me wanna punch him. My hand curls into a fist in my lap. I grunt at him in response. He laughs and nudges me. "Hey it's alright Jeffy," I hate that nickname with the burning passion of a thousand suns. "You'll learn how to play soon enough."

"Lay off, man." I mutter back. I drop the controller and he snickers.

"Aww c'mon don't tell me you're rage quitting on me."

"Shut up dude just-" I shoot him an agitated look. "Just shut your stupid mouth okay?"

His smile drops. "Hey, you okay man?" Shit. He sounds worried.

"I'm fine." I grunt back. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "Get off."

The hand withdraws. I hear him shift on the bed next to me. "Hey, dude-" he frowns. "Are you feeling alright today? Do you- need to talk or chill or…?"

I glare at Ben. He's being nothing but supportive and kind and what am I doing? Being an ass. "No I don't need to fucking chill." I growl at him. "I'm fine, alright? Just fine."

"Alright…" it's quiet for a bit while Ben turns off the game. Eventually he speaks again. "You wanna watch a movie or something? I'm tired so…"

This is a trick. He's tricking me into taking care of my mental health. Fuck you Ben, I'll be as mentally ill as I want. 

‘’I’m gonna go to my room.’’ I stand up and immediately get YANKED back onto the bed by my hood. Ben’s noodle arms wrap around my waist and hold me tight. ‘’Dude-!’’ this is getting a little tOO HOMO-EROTIC, BENNY BOY.

‘’Stay.’’ he murmurs. ‘’I wanna keep an eye on you.’’

‘’Why?’’ I snarl. ‘’Because I’m a stupid kid that can’t look after himself?! Huh?!’’

Ben flinches. ‘’Jeff-’’ he murmurs. ‘’It’s not that I don’t trust you it’s because I know that you need the company right now.’’ he frowns. ‘’Just- lemme keep an eye on you, alright…?’’

Fuck.

Fuck.

fuuuuUUUUUCK.

Why does he CARE SO MUCH. I HATE IT. I’m gonna slam my head into a wall. Gimme a minute.

…

Okay wall slamming accomplished. Back to my predicament. 

‘’Fine.’’ I grunt. He (unfortunately) lets go of me. It’s silent. And uncomfortable. I pick at my fingers. He tilts his head at me.

‘’So- anything you wanna do?’’

I wanna hug you and kiss you and tell you I love you please Ben I’m gay and homophobic at the same time. ‘’Not really.’’

Ben puts a hand on my shoulder and scoots closer. He rests his hand on my other shoulder and...oh god I can fucking smell his hair from here- that’s creepy. Why am I creepy. Actually don’t answer that one. He looks up at me, bright blue eyes shining with kindness. ‘’You wanna talk about it…?’’ he asks gently. Normally I wouldn’t talk about my problems. Ever. But Ben is giving me puppy dog eyes.

‘’...I’m just thinking about mom and dad.’’ I mumble. He nods. ‘’They- treated me like shit. And I keep thinking about the shit they’d say to me-’’ I look down at him. He nods encouragingly. ‘’It’s like...they fucking hated me for all the shit I did- and now I’m here and people are understanding? And Slender- is actually trying to learn why I’m like this? Like- diagnosing me and shit to try and help…’’ I frown. ‘’And I’m just thinking like- if they’d sent me to a therapist would it be different? If I’d just gotten diagnosed or something-’’ I shake my head. ‘’I dunno man…’’

He sits up a bit. He hugs me, pulling me against him. My face goes fucking red. ‘’Maybe things would’ve…’’ he murmurs. ‘’But we can’t change the past...there’s no magic ocarina to take us back in time unfortunately.’’ of course he made a zelda reference. Of course. ‘’We just gotta accept what we got now,’’ he smiles. ‘’And we got each other, right? That’s something to be happy about, isn’t it?’’

Oh god Jeff don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Not here. Not in front of the man you love. 

…

And you’re crying. Good job Jeff.

I’m not a loud crier. But I am a gross crier. I get all snotty and stuttery and can’t get my voice out properly. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes and silently roll down my gross scarred face. Ben reaches over and brushes them off with cold fingers. He feels cold as he hugs me but I don’t care. I wrap an arm around him and tug him closer. I can feel his breath on my neck as he gently shushes me. He sounds so caring, so...loving. Like a parent should treat their mentally ill kid. 

‘’B-ben-’’ I stammer out. He’s rubbing circles in my back. ‘’I lo-’’ wait what am I saying. ‘’I l-love-’’ WAIT HOLD ON- ‘’I love you…’’

SHIT

FUCK

NO

WAIT-

He hugs me tight and I shiver in the coldness of his body. ‘’I love you too…’’ his voice is soft and gentle. I believe him. I believe that he loves me. Genuinely- like I actually matter to him. He’d miss me if I was gone. And that- that’s a lot. I’ve spent my whole life feeling like it wouldn’t matter if I disappeared off the face of the earth. You wouldn’t care, my parents wouldn’t have cared. But Ben? Ben cares…

Which is why I proceed to squeeze the life (or lack thereof) out of him and sob into his shoulder. He holds me tight until I’ve (kinda) calmed down. He pulls away and tilts my head up to look at him. As gentle and as loving as I’d dreamed him, he wipes tears out of my eyes. I sob horsley and stare at him. He cups my face in his cold hands and smiles down at me.

‘’There you go…’’ he murmurs. ‘’See? I knew you just needed to get it out.’’ he smiles at me. I just- told him I love him. And he’s not making a big deal of it. That’s good, right?? That means he accepts me- right?

Right...yeah. Yeah, Ben accepts me. Ben doesn’t judge. 

‘’Yeah…’’ I gulp and look away from him awkwardly. ‘’Hey uh- do you wanna-’’ I fiddle with my hands again. ‘’Do you wanna...watch a movie or something? Together.’’

He nods and smiles. ‘’I’d love to.’’

And so- we end up watching not one, not two, but three movies, late into the night. And the entire time he’s curled up in my lap, comfy as can be. As the credits on our last movie roll, he looks up at me.

‘’Hey Jeff?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I love you.’’

My face goes bright fucking red. I don’t need to see it, I can feel it. I bury my face in my hands out of embarrassment. I hear him laugh at me like the bastard he is. I shoot him a glare from in between my fingers. I want to say it. I really do. I want to tell him I love him back but- it’s- it’s hard. He reaches up and pulls one of my hands away, letting him see me.

‘’You don’t have to say it back. It’s okay. I know.’’ He hugs my waist and rests his head against my chest. ‘’I can wait...until you’re ready.’’

It’s at this point I start crying. Again. 

Ben shushes me gently and runs his hand through my hair. And...as I looked down at him- it finally clicked. I don’t have to put the shield up- not around him. Ben is different. Ben...Ben is good.

Yeah.

Ben is good.

I guess...the reason why I’m telling you this- well...not telling, I guess- writing. The reason why I’m writing this is because...I feel like it’s something important. I need to remember it because...it’s a step. A step in me learning to accept myself. It sounds corny yeah but- fuck off okay? I’m full of trauma and insecurities. I’m allowed be a little sappy.

I don’t know who’ll end up reading this- I mean I’m literally scribbling it into a notebook I found in his drawer. There’s only two people who I really want this to be seen by. Ben, because he deserves to know how much he’s affected and helped me, and two...my brother. Though I doubt he’d ever find this- heh- 

I...love Ben. And that’s okay. At least- to me, I think it is.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Won’t You Stay A While? - fic

Characters: Ric Grayson, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake Summary: Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. A/N: I kind of imagine Damian puked in the bathroom. Tim and Damian don’t speak on the way home, but him, Cass and Jason kind of become helicopter parents to him, especially after Tim tells Jason and Cass what Ric’s last words to them were. Inspired by ‘Hold Me While You Wait’ by Lewis Capaldi. Very Damian and amnesiac Dick song, it hurts my heart a lot.

~~

The bar’s bell chimed as the door opened, followed by: “Yo, Ric!”

Ric reluctantly took his eyes off Bea, looking towards the man at the door. A regular, who Ric often found himself playing barside therapist for.

“Hey, Lenny.”

“Your cab out front?”

“Know another cabbie who frequents this bar?”

Lenny snorted a raspy laugh. “Well, there’s a kid sittin’ on the hood. Told him to beat it, and he told me to shove it up my ass. Then he settled in like he owned the car himself. So, you may have a problem on your hands.”

Ric sighed. “Great. Did he say who he was?”

“I didn’t ask, and he wasn’t very forthcoming with the conversation.” Lenny shrugged. He clapped a hand on Ric’s shoulder as he passed, making a bee-line for the bathroom. “Looked like one of the local street rats, but I sensed a lil’ Gotham accent there, so good luck with that headache.”

A local gang member, even better. Ric groaned and pushed back from the bar, giving Bea a wave and already defeated smile as he backed towards the door.

He shoved at the door with his back and zipped up his jacket as he spun towards the road. The kid was easy to spot, all dark clothes against the bright yellow of the cab. His knees were curled to his chest, and the hood up over his head, shadowing his face.

“Hey, kid!”

The boy looked up, and Ric froze midstep.

Aw hell.

He’d have preferred the gang member.

Instead, it was the Wayne kid. Damian. One of the ones there when he woke up from his coma. One of the ones he couldn’t remember for the life of him.

“Damian?” He murmured as he approached, both to call the kid and ask himself if that was truly his name. Damian just stared at him, dark, near unnatural circles under his eyes, face set in a fierce frown. “What are you doing here?”

And he remembered the kid being haughty and confident. Snotty, practically. But here…here, he looked lost, exhausted. Sick, almost.

“I…” Damian murmured. He looked past Ric and narrowed his eyes in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“Does Wayne know you’re here?”

“No.” Damian said shortly. “And if he does, he doesn’t care.”

Ric didn’t know what that meant. Sensed it was a can of worms that he did not want to open.

“…Is there someone I can call to come get you? Take you home?”

Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

Ric found himself closing his eyes and sighing. From his brief time with the Wayne family since waking up, he remembered this kid was…weird. Distant. Difficult.

“…Well, then, are you hungry?” Ric asked. “Maybe some food’ll make you feel better.”

“What makes you think I feel bad?”

“Come on.” Ric scoffed. “Came all the way down to Bludhaven to sit on some guy’s cab because you’re having a fantastic day?”

Damian smirked a little at the sarcasm.

“Listen. I know a cool little café down the street. Great gelato milkshakes.” Ric tried. Damian wouldn’t make eye contact. Just remained curled up on himself. Ric huffed and grabbed Damian’s wrist, unwinding it and giving it a gentle pull. “You just gotta try it. Cheer you right up.”

To Ric’s surprise, Damian slid off the car easily, and immediately fell into step with him down the sidewalk. Ric found himself smiling as he led the way.

As they walked, despite his attitude on the car, he found Damian continually sneaking peaks at him, but then shyly looking away if he thought Ric was looking back.

“The scar’s pretty ugly, huh?” Ric asked.

“I have worse.” Damian countered. Then quieter, “You helped sew a few up, actually.”

“Gross.” Ric stuck his tongue out dramatically. “Where’d you get them?”

“On the streets.” Damian answered slyly, like Ric was supposed to understand what that meant. He held his hand out. “Though this one on my thumb was from when you were trying to teach me how to make apple dumplings. You forgot to tell me how to hold the fruit when I was cutting it, and I almost sliced my thumb off. Alfred banned you from the kitchen then.”

“…Huh.” Ric thought out loud. His stomach swirled in discomfort. Something that, if he thought about it, felt a little bit like jealousy. Maybe. He pointed up the street, to the café’s sign. “Sounds equal parts hilarious and almost traumatizing.”

Damian openly stared at him now. Then sighed and looked at his feet. “…Yeah.”

At the café, a waitress waved at them to pick a booth themselves, and that she’d be with them in a moment. Ric veered towards a nearby table and Damian followed, sitting across from him silently.

“…So…” Ric hummed, bouncing his fingers off each other. “What’d you say you came down here for again?”

“I didn’t.” Damian replied simply. He didn’t offer anything else.

“Then…what brings you to town?” Ric asked. “I mean…gotta be something.”

Damian said nothing. Seemed to just sink further into his black hoodie.

“You and your dad fight?”

Nothing.

“…You and the old butler guy fight?”

Damian just blinked at his fork.

“Something to do with your…you know, night life?”

Damian just stared at the table.

“Look, dammit…!” Ric suddenly slammed a fist on the table. Damian jumped, and the waitress who had yet to serve them looked up from the cash register. Ric pursed his lips and leaned forward to whisper. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here, okay? Can’t you give me anything? I mean, you know I don’t want to…”

Ric didn’t finish the thought. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your family.

By the look on Damian’s face, he probably didn’t need to anyway.

Damian just watched him. In his flinch at Ric’s outburst, his hood had fallen from his head. Those circles under his eyes looked so much darker in the open sunlight. His skin so much paler. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in ages, or eaten. And those scars he’d mentioned, Ric could see a few poking out of the neck of the hoodie.

He did not look well.

“I thought…” Damian breathed, then blinked and shook his head, seemingly berating himself.

“You thought what?” Ric asked. Damian shook his head again, leaning back in the booth and looking out the window. “You thought what, Damian?”

Damian kept his mouth shut, though seemed to suddenly be blinking heavily.

“Look if you don’t tell me what’s going on, or why you’re here, I…” Ric sighed, leaned back himself. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Damian closed his eyes at that.

And he remained silent, even when the waitress finally came over. She seemed cautious, and Ric supposed he didn’t blame her, not after he punched the table for no reason. He gave her his best smile anyway, ordering gelato milkshakes for the both of them. She wrote the order on her pad, sparing Damian a glance before spinning away.

Ric was still watching her walk away when he heard a quiet: “…I thought you would remember.”

He looked back at Damian. He’d opened his eyes now, and they were misty, ready to overflow.

“What?”

“It’s been weeks since you woke up. I know Father was pushy and you ran from that. I get it. I get that.” Damian tried. His voice was shaking, and he was trying so hard to control it. “But I thought enough time had passed.”

There was the sound of a buzz, and Damian shifted, pulling out a cell phone. He glanced at the message, but scoffed and placed the phone face down on the table between them.

“…I thought if I came here, if you saw me, I could help you trigger a memory or something. Anything.” Damian breathed. The tears overflowed instantly. “But I’m not enough. I’m not good enough. Again.”

“Damian-”

“After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t do this one single fucking thing for you!” Damian shrieked. The waitress looked up again from the counter. Other customers glanced up too. “I can’t…”

Damian fell into a coughing fit, he was crying so hard.

“…You were the only one who ever cared about me, and I can’t bring you back.” Damian cried. “I can’t bring Dick Grayson back and I don’t…I don’t know if that means you never actually cared about me in the first place or if I’m just more worthless than I thought.”

Ric glanced at the others in the café, everyone blatantly staring now.

“Damian, look…” But Damian was already shaking his head.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was scooting out of the booth. “Forget it.”

“No, you’re okay, it’s-”

But Damian was already running across the restaurant towards the bathroom. The slam and lock of the bathroom door echoed through the silent dining room, and Ric looked out the window, instead at all the patrons now silently judging him.

After a moment, Ric sighed, and reached across the table for Damian’s forgotten phone. He clicked the screen on, and read the message that had been left.

From someone named Todd, reading: Where the fuck are you kid????

Ric waited a moment, to see if that name rang a bell. When it didn’t, he sighed and press the call button.

~~

Damian came out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later, and found the booth he’d been sitting in empty.

Not surprising, he thought. He wouldn’t want to stick around and wait for himself either.

But then the waitress appeared next to him, holding out a Styrofoam cup. “Your friend is outside.” She whispered sweetly. “He had me put your drink in the fridge for you for whenever you’re ready.”

Damian nodded his thanks and took the cup. The woman smiled and pointed towards the window, where Ric could be seen sitting on the curb outside. Damian swallowed the lump in his throat and moved towards the door.

He sat down next to Ric silently, staring intensely at the straw poking out of the cup. Ric was bent between his knees, fiddling with the shoestrings on his boots.

“I wasn’t lying – their shakes are the best in town. Even a boring flavor like vanilla.” Ric hummed almost jovially. Damian nodded, absently rocking the cup back and forth, feeling the weight of it shift between his fingers, the chill escaping into his fingers.

After another moment, Ric sat back up and sighed, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked at Damian, then shifted, digging in his pocket, and pulling out the cell phone.

“You left this on the table.” Ric said. “I…I called that Todd guy, who texted you.”

Damian pursed his lips as he took the phone back. “What did he say?”

“Well, he didn’t sound thrilled to hear me. Or to hear this is where you were.” Ric answered with a wince. He glanced at his watch. “He should be here in about an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Damian responded monotonously. “You can go, if you want. No need to be late for your next shift on my account.”

“I don’t work today.” Ric countered just as blandly. “Also – I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You already did once. What’s once more?” Damian drawled bitterly. Ric didn’t respond to it, knowing Damian meant the amnesia. His decision to leave Gotham and cut Bruce Wayne and his associates out of his life. For exactly what he didn’t say inside the café. But to his surprise, Damian frowned almost instantly. “I’m…I’m sorry. That was rude. I know…none of this is your fault.”

“…I’m sorry your brother’s gone, Damian.” Ric looked to the sky. “I’m sorry I can’t…be who you need me to be.”

“No one ever is.” Damian exhaled. He finally shoved the straw in his mouth. “Not even Dick Grayson was, in some ways. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

The statement left a bad taste in Ric’s mouth. “Regardless – I’m not leaving you here by yourself. You’re what, ten?”

“Thirteen.”

“Close enough.” Ric shrugged. “I’m waiting here with you until your ride gets here. And that’s final.”

“Whatever you say.” Damian shrugged. He slurped on his straw, and hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, this is good.”

“Told you.”

Damian didn’t answer that. Took a few more sips of the drink. Smacked his lips and whispered, “I’m sorry I came here.”

A car was passing right as he said it, and Ric almost missed it. He had a feeling that was the point. He looked down at him, and once again, Damian wouldn’t meet his eye.

“…I’m not.” He decided. Without warning, he threw his arm around Damian’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I don’t know what our relationship was before but…it was nice to meet you. Again. Officially. You seem like a pretty cool kid.”

Damian immediately stiffened in the hold, but didn’t pull away, and he struck Ric as one to do so if he wished to.

“…Is this okay?”

Damian thought a moment, and then just as suddenly – he relaxed into the hold, and even leaned his head on Ric’s shoulder.

“…Yeah.” Damian’s voice was already trembling. After a second, Ric saw a tear drip onto the lid of the milkshake. “This is fine.”

“Okay. Just tell me if it’s not.” Ric murmured, running his arm along Damian’s shoulder. After a moment, in an attempt to give Damian a semblance of privacy, he gently lifted his hood back over his head. The boy gasped a sob in the mockery of a thanks.

“…I miss you.” Damian wailed after a moment. Softly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it, let alone think it. “I miss you so much.”

All Ric could say was, “I know.” And “I’m sorry, kid.”

Damian said nothing else for the rest of the hour they waited, so Ric didn’t either. Just watched the cars as they drove by, waiting for anyone who looked like the contact picture that popped up when he called the one named Todd. Rubbed Damian’s shoulder every so often to offer some comfort.

Damian just tried to calm down enough to drink his milkshake.

Eventually, a car pulled up on the other side of the street, and a teenager who couldn’t have been much older than Damian got out. It wasn’t Todd for sure, but Damian sat up at the sight of him anyway. As the teen crossed the street towards him, he seemed to be hit with a wave of relief.

“There you are.” The teenager breathed as Damian stood.

“Why’d he send you?” Damian snapped, but there didn’t appear to be any malice behind it. He also didn’t seem that annoyed when the other wrapped him in a quick hug.

“Because it was literally taking the rest of them – Goliath and Titus included – to stop Bruce from coming down here himself to get you and check on…” The boy trailed off and glanced at Ric, still sitting on the curb. “…Thanks for watching out for him, Mr. Grayson.”

“My pleasure. Kind of.” He gave an awkward smile. “…Did I know you?”

The boy looked sad, and Ric frowned at the look. He was so, so tired of that look.

“You did.” But that’s all he offered. “Name’s Tim.”

“Tim.” Ric repeated. It didn’t register. “You’re not the one I called.”

“No, Jason’s our older brother.” Tim gave as an explanation. He paused for a moment and glanced at Damian. “You have him in your phone as Todd, right?”

Damian nodded.

“Right, yeah. He was…busy. So I came instead.” Tim tried. “Do you want picture proof that I’m not here kidnapping him or something…?”

“No, no. I have a feeling Damian wouldn’t be standing here if you were.” Ric stood himself, shoved his hands in his pockets. “So…I guess we’re good.”

“Guess so. Thanks again.” Tim instantly whirled Damian around towards the car. “Take care, Mr. Grayson. And I know Bruce always said it to you before but…if you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

Ric nodded silently, and gave Damian a quick wave. Damian didn’t return it. In fact, since Tim arrived, Damian had not even looked at him.

When they were just hitting the yellow line separating the lanes, Ric called, “Damian?”

Damian glanced over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot and red.

“You’re not worthless. So don’t let anyone make you think you are, okay? Not even me.” He smiled softly. “And get some sleep or something.”

Both Ric and Tim waited for Damian to give a response, but when he didn’t, Tim just turned him back towards the car, a far too fancy looking thing. As they reached the other side of the street, Ric listened as Tim carefully whispered, “Are you okay…?”

Damian shook his head. Tried to rub nonchalantly at his eyes.

Ric turned and started walking back to the bar before they even got in the car.

[erischaos]

don’t let us go

summary: you and johnny are going through a crisis, to save the relationship you both write a letter saying everything that you love about each other.

inspired on “a marriage story” but not that much

words: +1,5k

tags: lil angst, very fluffy

The rutine, him leaving for long periods of time, you studying full time and stress were slowly killing your relationship with johnny, and you didn’t liked that. Almost four years together shouldn’t just vanish like that and the idea of breaking up was in both heads, but the love was there too. In dispair, you called your friend, a therapist, and asked for an advice.

“i’m so frustrated, i can’t let this go” you cried on the phone. “he’s the love of my life and i don’t even know if he’s happy being with me anymore” you tried to hold your whimpers, your boyfriend was sleeping on the room next door and you didn’t wanted him to find you crying in the bathroom.

“y/n you know i’m not a couple therapist” you could hear her brain working from the other side of the phone “but you should try writing a letter with all the things you love about him, maybe that could help you both to remember why you two are still together” suddenly, the sky was a little clearer “Johnny should do that too, and then, you know, read it out loud” you went silent and started to consider it. You didn’t have anything to lose, and it could really help, it could be your last chance.

After saying goodbye to your friend and wipping your face, you went back to bed. But your mind was restless so you decided to do the only thing that would make you fall sleep at an instant, so you buried yourself in your boyfriends chest only to be hugged by his sleepy self.

Days went by and everything was still tense, no cuddles, only goodbye kisses, and sharing dinner out of habit. It was getting on your nerves how calm he was about the whole situation so, one friday night, while you were watching tv together on the couch, with the dog in the middle, you decided to speak.

“Johnny, can we talk?” he nodded, turned off the tv and changed his position to face you. “Sure baby, whats on you mind?” you couldn’t look at his eyes, if you do all the tears you were holding will come out.

“Don’t you feel something is wrong...with us?” he looked down, and suddenly grabbed you by your hands and make you look at him in the eyes. “breaking up it’s the last thing on my mind y/n, so if you’re trying to get rid of me i’m not going to let you” he blurted and you both giggled. “you’re not getting rid of me neither, i love you”. With a different attitude and a lot more calmed you told him your friend’s idea.

“I don’t know, it could work but” he paused “it would change something?” you looked at his eyes, those honey orbs, who where flowing with love for you and you smiled. “we’ll have to try”.

You wrote your letter on the living room and he wrote his on your shared bedroom. Two years ago you bought this apartment together and you felt at home at the very first instant, every corner of it has pictures of you and him, and of course of your little puppy, who Johnny brought home not even a year ago, when he went on tour, to keep you company. When you finished you went to check on your boyfriend.

“I just finished babe, are you ready?” he turned around, his eyes red “just a few more minutes”. You stood in the door for a second, with a knot in your throat. He looked so devastated, Johnny was a very emotional person but you never saw him cry out of genuine sadness, it broke your heart. You closed the door and went to sat on the couch, immediately your dog jumped in your lap and looked at your face, and just like that you shed a few tears. A little bit more of ten minutes passed when he came out of the room to sit in front of you, two paper sheets on his trembling hand.

“rock, paper, scissors to see who starts?” you nodded. You rock, he paper. You took a breath and started.

“Johnny Suh, if i went to write about everything i love about you i could go on for days so i’m going to make it as short as i can. I love your eyes, i love how you look at me, i love how i can feel your love through them. I love the look you give me when you first wake up and the one you give me before going to sleep. I love you lips, i love how you kiss me, even when you breath smells like coffee, and i love how they smile to me even when i do the stupidest things. I love you laugh, how your whole face laughs, i love how it sounds and how you can’t disimule it. I love your hands and how they hold me, how they caress me, how they touch me, how they tickle me. I love everything you do with them. I love your double chin too. I love how you cook for me when i’m tired, and i love how you wash the dishes without me asking for it because you know i hate it. I love how you love things, i love how much you love coffee, photography, star wars, our dog, music, your work, nct and you fans. I love how you read their letters and keep their gifts. I love how you never gave up, how much you fought, and i love how proud you make everyone feel around you. I love your voice, i love how you talk to me and how you sing for me to sleep. I love how you make me want to form a family, have kids, and a typical house with an ugly mom car. I love you and all your little habits, like bitting your lips too hard or singing in the shower. I love how you made me fell in love, fast, hard and deep, i know it sounds bad but it felt like that. The love i feel for you goes beyond everything, i feel for you two seconds after i saw you, and i’m going to be in love for the rest of my life, even when it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

The scene was pretty bizarre, two adult people crying their hearts out and a dog in the middle trying to comfort both owners. After a few minutes the tears were still there but flowing gentler. “I guess it’s my turn”

“Y/n what do i don’t love about you? Everything that you do makes my heart flutter and my stomach fills with butterflies. Your face it’s one of the most beautiful things i’ve seen in my life, because your smile it’s on the list too. Your laugh feels like being in heaven and how your eyes smile too makes me feel dizzy. I love how much you care for your loved ones, how you want to make sure they’re healthy and happy. You always want to make sure i’m the happiest man on earth and you archive that just by being in my life. I told you many times i wanted to marry you and you always thought i was joking, but i really mean it. I want to spend the rest of my life at your side, i want to have your children and i want them to give us grandkids. I don’t want to live a second on this life without you, because i love you more than i could ever love someone. You showed me i was worth of all the love i receive everyday and i want to make you feel worthy of all the love i give you too. I love how you think, and you soul, and how you want me to be included in everything you do. How you always tell me random facts about the books you read and how you never shut up about a movie you like. It’s funny how you get so addicted to a song until you start hating it but you never got tired of a nct song, and i love how you know my lines, and that you watch every fancam of me and how you hype me. And it’s also funny how i knew i was going to be entirely yours since the first moment i saw you. I want to make you proud and happy, because you’re my number one priority and the love of my life, and you’re always going to be.”

All the doubts went away, actually there wasn’t any. You don’t even remember what was wrong in the first place. The little apartment was oozing with love and adoration from each other and desire to fight for your love. Happiness tears were staining both cheeks and the first thing you did was jumping on his arms and kiss him, trying to express how happy you were, he held you in his arms and just looked at you in the eyes, no words needed. Everything was fine.

hi there!! this is my first fic and i’m pretty sure there’s a lot of mistakes bc english it’s not my first language so feel free to let me know! i really hope you liked it and please leave a heart ♥️thank you for reading me♥️

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Yes to Yuji wrecking Mahito! Just so much yes my boy needs to avenge those wrongfully killed!

See I wanted Geto to be on my shit list (as I'm not normally a bad guy lover) but I swear he wore me down reading the manga. Plus he's just so pretty he makes my brain all static noises 😳 Not to mention that backstory between him and Gojo like YES give me all the drama I need buried drama 🤩

Totally agree on the Mai thing. See I wanted to hate Todo too bc of well him beating on Megumi but the moment him and Yuji were just like "Big Dumb Meat Heads" together I threw that out the window! Those two together are *chefs kiss* Absolutely stupendous I never get tired of them 👌👌👌

Mai on the other hand is just crawling more and more under my skin. Like why you gotta be like that gurl? You wanna go in the crusty corner with Mahito? Cuz you gotta crusty attitude that needs fixing like yesterday 😐

Literary brain tells me it wants more drama/character growth between Megumi and Toji. But my useless overly big heart wants to punch Toji and protect Megumi at all costs bc he just showed up on the screen like the kool aid man and burst right into my heart and I shan't forgive Megumi for that but now I will die for him so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯

But I'm not the only one who lowkey fantasizes about self inserty type day dreams??? Like every day all day I got my thoughts flowing into 500 different lil oneshots I'm too chicken to post anywhere bc I havent written anything in a while and I feel I'm rusty. But your idea! YOUR IDEA WOO BOI- I'm not even a Gojo fanatic (like I adore him but my heart dick thudded elsewhere RIP) but that scene you described of straddling him just to rip his blindfold off in the heat of an arguement that's clearly deadly to either party- Just to see him on the brink of tears fighting back every emotion to slate his composure to cocky/uncaring. Only to have it obviously failing, and the metaphorical reality around you both crumbling along with Gojo's emotional state- Oh God I would read that crap outta something like that. It fills me with the angst and I thrive on it daily *heavy breathing* You should think about posting more of your original content too! Self inserty or not bc that sounds down right brilliant on so many levels

💛anon

Bro I can't help but feel had for Gojo. That shit must have hurted. Like he looked so calm and collected when it all happened but was he really? His best friend potential lover went feral and murdered an entire village AND his family then he tried to kill his first years once and now AGAIN what is happening. Did you see the look on Gojo's face when Yaga told him he went rogue? That was a face of hurt and betrayal he couldn't even begin to understand at the young age of... What was it, 17? 18? He was practically a little itty bitty baby compared to now. I haven't read the prequel yet don't laugh at me but I've heard it hurts so much worse having to face Getou back then AND now. Stupid brain worms, stop fucking around.

I wanted to hate Todo too hut before he even turned good I couldn't. I have a thing for big buff boys who have zero brains and too much brawns I'm looking at you Metal Bat, Captain Ōbi I just wanna adopt/marry them because in all reality they're trying their best. I'm really glad Todo exists and has his big brother delusion because honestly I think that's something Yuji needs, especially in the current arc. Yuji needs as much support as he can get.

PFFFT CRUST CORNER I cannot with you omg they do need to sit on the time out chair for s bit and think about what they've done lmaooo

DID YOU CALL TOJI ZENIN- FUSHIGURO THE FUCKING KOOL AID MAN AHAHAHHHSH oh my god i hate this so fucking much or were you calling Megumi the koolaid man bc really each one is absurd n e wayz I dunno bro I rlly can't wait until Megs wakes up post Shibuya arc and actually has time to process what the fuck happened to him back then. I really want to know if he can connect the dots by himself and realize holy shit that was the source of my daddy issues right there in the flesh and how he reacts to him being a curse and all that. There's so many ways that can go too it's scary to think about.

Low key unrelated but I have a theory that Gojo can see everything from his little cube prison and knows what's going on. Its probably because of the six eyes, or because he's just fucking Gojo, or even because Geto seems kinda sadistic and would do something like that. But I can imagine him watching Megs and Toji fight and it absolutely destroying him. For starters, Gojo killed him .... Right? Wtf is he doing back? What? Second don't commit suicide in front of your kid oh my god Toji what (I'm probably just salty because of a past experience, but also, calm down Toji oh my god) and third I can see it hurting Gojo because in a way it feels like he's been trying to protect Megumi. Its obvious Gojo has this attachment to Megumi, and maybe it's because they've known each other so long, but I don't think Gojo is prepared to deal with the aftermath. Does he have to tell him, if Megs doesn't put the pieces together? Will he have to knock some sense into him to actually tell him? Because he DID try to tell Megs once before and he avoided it like the plague. Its also gotta hurt when you feel like someone's dad and you witness them have a bad interaction with their other dad.

Throw in his daughter being on the brink of death, his other son being emotionally demolished, his second year kids lost in the void and not even his void, his best friend locked him in a box, his other best friend exploded, etc. I think Gojo I pretty distraught even if he doesn't show it

Bro okay my brain is riddled with ideas like this and 90% of them are always angst. Idk where tf they come from half the time but they exist and I hate it. They're always self inserts too.

So I actually read this ask last night, but due to personal reasons I didn't reply to it now, and I actually started experimenting writing out this scenario. I had to stop when I wrote the line "Approximately one year after the first finger was consumed, Itadori Yūji was formally executed. At three minutes to midnight, Sukuna Ryomen was expelled from his body, destroying the vessel along with it. The executioner was none other than the teenager's teacher and mentor Gojo Satoru. When Y/N awoke to this news, they attacked on sight."

Oh god I made myself so sad with that line

And i do really want to post some of my fics, like I did with Nobara Meeting Sukuna For The First Time. However, I only posted that because it was short and simple lmao it was basically just a meme I didn't even run it though grammarly like I do with the headcanons.

I like sticking to the headcanons as of right now because I feel like grammar didn't exist when I make those. I can spell things wrong and leave off punctuation and word then like I'm a third grader just learning English and no one will laugh lmao. Fanfics kinda stress me out because i want them to be perfect. I also have a hard time with fight scenes and transitioning and it's s mess.

I REALLY want to write out my Guardian Angel! Junpei AU because I think it's so cute. Just the idea that this boy is assigned to fight against fate and the higher ups and keep Yuji alive despite him being an idiot and a target is cute to me. Like I just canon him being the plantonic equivalent of in love with this boy and he feels like he rlly owes it to Yuji for trying to save him it's the LEAST he can do. Plus I need the mental imagine if Junpei annoying reader-chan into finding Yuji because "they play a pivotal role in Yuji's future" just for the "pivotal role" to literally be playing therapist and just being there for him and being a medium between Junpei and Yuji because guardian angels aren't allowed to reveal themselves to the person they're guarding but also/// he might risk his wings being stripped just to talk to Yuji one more time////

Okay I'm going to stop now

But yea, maybe if I have time and create little mini works like Nobara Meeting Sukuna For the First Time I'll def post them! I'll work on casually making them longer and soon I'll be confident to posts longer ones. But until then I hope just the headcanons at alright ;-;

[ashwayssunny]

carry that weight.

hello! here’s a lil fic that nobody asked for. aka, dennis spends the night on the couch. set during “the gang gets romantic,” so it’s tagged for spoilers! warnings for brief mentions of v*miting, drug use, and dennis-typical creepiness.

Like most nights, he couldn’t sleep. He’d felt a headache building for hours, had known it would be a nasty one as soon as the woman Mac had unceremoniously decided to pair him with revealed she was no single woman after all. He wasn’t sure if he’d lost interest in the scheme then, or if he’d simply never had any to begin with. Either way, he’d had to swallow his complaints. It would’ve been so simple - should’ve been so simple - for him to crawl into Mac’s bed, drift away, and forget the scheme altogether, but the way his skin burned like he’d laid down on a bed of hot coals told him it simply would not be. 

The couch was not meant to host an overnight guest. It was uncomfortable on the best of days, and today was not one of its best days. It was cold, the leather warped and torn in odd places, and so lumpy, Dennis felt as if he were trying to get comfortable on the head of a giant mushroom. He was cold, too, as he always was, and the throw blanket he must’ve stolen from his sister no less than ten years ago offered him no support. He dreaded the way his back would ache in the morning, and the thought of it was almost enough to send him running back to Mac’s room with his tail between his legs. Almost. 

The woman - Lisa, he remembered vaguely, though he’d thought he’d made it a rule for himself that knowing their names cheapened the experience - was attractive enough. Slender figure, inauspicious features, a face he’d forget once it wriggled out from underneath him. He liked redheads. Mac knew that, of course. Mac seemed to know many things about him; Dennis didn’t know why that surprised him after nearly twenty-five years of cohabitation. I know you, man, Mac had said to him once in a way that sounded quite like he was saying something else. Dennis remembered fighting back tears for the first time since childhood. Mac was so close, he thought, just in the other room, nothing but paint and drywall between them. If Dennis concentrated hard enough, he could make out the sound of him snoring obscenely; he pictured Mac’s arms and legs tossed haphazardly over themselves, knew he was drooling into his one and only pillowcase-less pillow. He wondered, if he had stayed, if Mac would be drooling into his shoulder instead. 

Dennis rolled onto his side, pushing those thoughts away. The current occupants of his room seemed to still be awake; the walls in their apartment would certainly win no awards for protecting anyone’s privacy, and despite his best efforts to soundproof the room, sound escaped just as frequently and as forcefully as so many failed sexual escapades that passed through that very same door. Twenty-five years’ worth of sexual escapades. Dennis tried not to think too hard about how long twenty-five years truly was. Until recently, he’d been twenty-five in his head, willfully ignorant of the passage of time, but now as he stared down the reality of being nearly twice that age, the bliss that came with his willful ignorance had all but disappeared. At twenty-five, he could shoot tequila till the sun came up, sleep for a few hours, and go on about his day, rinsing and repeating each night in a pattern that became as comfortable and familiar to him as waking up and falling asleep. He would always vomit, of course, because a weak stomach and an easily triggered gag reflex was something, among other things he didn’t care to admit, he shared with his twin sister. Now he was lucky if vomiting was all that came of nights like that. After thirty-five, his hangovers seemed to evolve, lasting days and robbing him of usefulness for what seemed like weeks, like months, like years. Now, pushing forty-five, it was not so easy to rinse and repeat. 

A brief but unmistakable sob came from his room, and Dennis rolled his eyes but was secretly grateful for distraction. His thoughts returned to the woman, Lisa. He remembered trying to stare at her. It wasn’t unusual; he often studied his targets, drank them in like a smooth crème de menthe. He knew it made them uneasy, and he’d liked it that way. But his eyes kept drifting, and it was jarring to him in a way he could not pinpoint. He didn’t feel anything when he looked at her; then again, he didn’t feel anything when he looked at any of them, but a deep, burning lust that boiled in his brain and in his stomach and told him he would combust if he didn’t touch someone was ever-present. Or it had been. It wasn’t now, and that was most jarring of all. Lisa was attractive enough; sweet-faced, red-haired, curvy in the best places, and totally, completely uninteresting to him. He wondered if something in him was broken for good this time, if he could never get it back, if he even wanted to get it back. If he even wanted anything at all. 

Another sob choked its way through the silence of their apartment, grating on Dennis’s eardrums. He groaned aloud, hating Mac for putting him through this. He considered turning on the TV in the living room and popping in a Rambo DVD just to rattle him awake with the sound of gunfire. When more muffled whimpering made him clench his fists tightly to his body, he decided he needed some other noise, anything else, to drown it out. He reached for his phone across the coffee table, sliding past the home screen and opening his Spotify app. With shaky hands, he pressed the ‘shuffle’ button on a Rock Classics playlist, closing his eyes and placing his phone next to his ear. Soft, simple piano chords started to loosen the knot in his chest, and when Paul McCartney’s sweet voice began to dance against his eardrum, he smiled in spite of himself. His eyes drifted shut. “Once there was a way to get back homeward,” Paul sang, “once there was a way to get back home...”

He’d tried to look at her legs. He’d forced himself to stare. They were nice enough, as was the curve of her ass, but he felt no familiar twinge of desire. Why couldn’t he just look at her legs? Instead, he felt fear. Months could by at times without him feeling anything at all, and though that frightened him, he knew he could substitute physical arousal for emotion with a relatively high rate of success. It didn’t make him feel happy, but it made him feel something. And that counted. Every drop of water in the desert of his emotional terrain was appreciated, was needed. Like any desert, he could dry up for months, not a feeling in sight, but once the rainy season began, it ran its course with such forceful agony, he wondered if the therapist he’d seen with Dee so many years ago was on to something after all. 

“Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry...”

Why had he agreed to the scheme at all? As the verses repeated, he turned the question over and over in his mind, poking holes in his own arguments, tearing down his own defenses. Obviously he’d done the scheme to satisfy Mac, but... why? Dennis bristled at the thought of Mac having purposefully booked a married couple to force Dennis into his room, but his reaction to the unfortunate existence of Lisa’s husband seemed genuine. Dennis knew Mac well enough to know when he was lying. He paused, considering that thought. He’d seen Mac lie through his teeth a thousand times, and he was bad at it because Dennis knew that he wore his heart on his sleeve, but how many others knew that about him? How many others could sniff out Mac’s lies, pick his laugh out of a crowd of a thousand, recognize even the faintest hint of his scent when Mac’s clothes inevitably mixed with some of his own in the wash? I know you, man, Mac’s voice whispered in his head. 

Lisa, he said to himself. He needed to think about Lisa. Lisa, with her red hair and her red, snotty nose and her husband. Dennis nearly scoffed. What a ridiculous thing to want to have. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, conjured Lisa’s face above Jackie DeNardo’s chest, it would work. He could rub out a quick one and be asleep in twenty minutes. For whatever reason, however, his mind’s eye could not linger on her. Lisa’s face warped and changed shape, shifting into something so unrecognizable, he could not remember it at all. What was it he’d said to Mac earlier? That this whole thing felt desperate, felt unlike him? Odd, he conceded, for a man who once purchased a boat to help him attract women. But Dennis had run the same course, danced the same steps so many times between twenty-five and forty-five, he’d finally begun to dream about packing up his tap shoes and retiring the show for good. Performing, yes, it was all a performance - albeit an excellent one, he gave himself - but a performance nonetheless, and one he feared may finally be better left to a younger man. But perhaps he could do it. Dennis Reynolds had done everything in his life with grace, with poise and mystique. Why should aging be any different? He could retire the skin of his old self like a baseball jersey; some ill-fitting thing at which he could look back and smile but no longer had the power to squeeze him to fit its mold. Yes, that would be nice. 

The drums cascaded like a waterfall down the track and forced in a new tune. “Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time...”

And what would be left there, in the empty space between the old Dennis and the new? Dennis swallowed hard without meaning to as another face took shape in his mind, a much more familiar face. Mac smiled at him so sweetly that morning, his giddiness about scheming together again palpable in the air. Mac smiled at him earlier, too, lying next to him silently, their arms brushing just enough to set that part of Dennis’s skin on fire. Mac had always looked at him that way. It made him seem younger. Dennis wondered if perhaps that was because it reminded him of high school, of smoking pot underneath the stadium bleachers, of Mac staying late at his house and beating him for fifteen rounds of Killer Instinct just so he wouldn’t have to go home. Mac still looked at him that way, even when that Dennis and the Dennis he was now seemed lifetimes apart. 

“Boy, you’re gonna carry that weight, carry that weight a long time...”

Feet moving before he even made the conscious decision, Dennis slinked off the couch, feeling his way through the darkness until his fingers curled around Mac’s doorknob. Yes, maybe he’d done the scheme to make Mac happy, to spend time with him, to make-believe their friendship hadn’t taken a turn for the worst in recent years. Dennis knew he had to shoulder most of the blame, but perhaps it didn’t have to be that way. He was so tired of performing, so tired of playing a character that nobody, especially Mac, believed in anymore. And if Mac already knew him, truly knew him in the way that he had so long feared being known, then why play the character at all? 

Dennis assuredly but slowly creaked open Mac’s door, shuffling forward until he nearly tripped over the bare mattress. Mac was snoring, but the sound was familiar, and Dennis was suddenly tired enough to deal with it. He laid down as quietly as possible, but Mac’s cheap old mattress practically screamed beneath him, and Mac rolled over, eyes wide and stark white in the darkness, searching until he found Dennis’s face. 

“Den?” he asked. “What are you doing?” 

“Shhhh, go to sleep,” Dennis said, slipping his legs underneath Mac’s blanket. He curled his arms inward on his chest, contouring his body to fit around Mac’s shape without actually touching him. Mac didn’t protest, only sighed softly and inched just a bit closer. “The couch was killing my back,” Dennis whispered, and Mac chuckled. 

“Figured,” he yawned, rolling back over. Dennis’s eyes popped open, and he stared at the back of Mac’s head for a long moment before swallowing and letting out a little yawn himself. He released the tension he’d been holding since that morning in his jaw, and with the familiar scent of Mac’s hair gel on their shared pillow consuming him, sleep finally came. 

[clansayeed]

Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 2: Horror Film Clichés

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he's tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Taylor and the girls take on the town as festivities kick off in the French Quarter, only to suffer the hallucinations he thought he'd left behind. On the way home things take a turn for the cinematically terrifying.

[READ IT ON AO3]

They’re certainly a trio to be reckoned with. Not that anyone looks in the mood to try.

Vera and a different pair of silk gloves — still in color-coordination with her outfit, which is pretty impressive — gently nursing her second hurricane through a neon straw. Taylor and his version of fun with his own looping straw in a coke bottle. And Kristin completely hammered between them; beads from the night before swinging with the shimmy of her body towards anything that looks even remotely fruity and, more importantly, on a ‘2 for 1$’ Mardi Gras Week special.

Frankly Taylor’s a little surprised. Would have thought his finally coming clean about the only secret left between them might have curbed her alcoholic appetite. He must not be hiding it well either; since Vera comes up beside him while they watch her do that thing drunk girl strangers do where they suddenly find the other girl the most beautiful creature in the world and will die if they don’t tell her.

So, like, typical Kristin stuff.

“She’s been looking forward to this for months,” Vera says with fond exasperation, “had three countdowns; one on her desk calendar at work, one on her phone, and —”

“Let me guess, one on your phone?”

Vera grins. “Old habits, huh?”

“Her exams were on my alarm schedule.”

“Ooh, gotcha.”

“Mmhm.”

He’d thought it would be hard getting along with Vera — the friend of the friend — but it couldn’t have been more the opposite. Vera was witty and charming and had the distinct drawl of a native Southerner without any of the local judgment. She was definitely as fish-out-of-water in the throngs of party-goers as he was; something hard to come by and even harder not to feel ashamed about in the natural, glowing presence of Kristin’s extroversion.

The hard part comes when it turns out most of the local clubs and dives Vera had put on their agenda have adapted to the needs of the season in all the colors of the vodka rainbow.

Taylor keeps insisting he’s fine — “no offense to your keen sober coaching skills but I have lived in this town on my own for a bit now, Krissy” — but she won’t have it. Not until she’s had her shot, had a mysterious game card punched (where did that come from?), and pushes them back out the way they came.

There’s a thoughtful touch to his arm that makes Taylor look back. Vera glances at the streets and their lights with something like recognition.

“I think I know a great lil’ place nearby if y’all are into anything off the beaten path.”

She says y’all like she’s speaking to them both but Kristin’s whoop of delight as she trades beads with a man covered from head to toe in different shades of glitter for kisses on the cheek says she’s long gone.

Which may work in their favor, actually.

“How far?” asks Taylor. Vera gestures airily.

“Just on the other block. It’s nothing special — just a place some friends and I used to hang out in when I was younger. More a place for historical value than something to add to Cookie’s drink card over there.”

But it sounds great to him. “I’m in. You wanna play rodeo this time or should I?”

As Taylor tips an invisible cowboy hat her way Vera giggles open and unafraid; puts on what she probably thinks is a more Texan edge to her accent and pretends the glittering floral piece on her bodice is a belt buckle.

“I think this is a two-man job, pardner.”

He tries to take her seriously — really, he does. But nope, nope, it’s just too silly. He can’t not laugh. “Never — ah! ha! — never do that again!”

Together they successfully corral Kristin back into the safety of their immediate vicinity and head over to Vera’s suggestion. Which, as it turns out, is exactly the kind of place Taylor’s been hoping they’d find all night.

Small and the exact opposite of crowded; filled with wooden surfaces both glossy and in need of a little love. Frames on the walls of years gone by but uncluttered — they leave him with the feeling of wanting to make his own space not just on the wall but in the world outside.

Once Kristin’s safe and snug in a rounded booth Taylor joins Vera up at the bar to bring back drinks.

“Two cokes and a water, please!” Even she sounds cheerier. What happens when you send two introverts out to party at one of the most crowded events of the year, he supposes.

“This one’s on me.” Taylor insists; is already forking out the bills.

Vera sighs but doesn’t exactly decline, waves in thanks as she heads towards the back where a neon sign says ‘LADIES.’ “Lemme go powder my noise for a second, cher.”

One minute he’s examining the bottles decorated with beads and stuffed with themed string lights for the occasion and the next he’s pressed against the bar with a hot and heavy voice husking in his ear.

“Pssst!”

Taylor sighs and gently pushes Kristin off. “I thought we told you to stay put in the booth.”

“Well, yeahduh,” she rolls her eyes like she’s done exactly as asked, continues on; “but this is more important!”

He waits. And waits. Finally has to ask. “What is?”

With drunken subtlety Kristin jerks her head to the last booth in the row. “That.”

“What?”

“That!”

Admittedly the first time he’s only humoring her. The second — and only because if she gets any louder the party outside might hear her — he actually looks. And probably would have missed the stranger and the glass he nurses in the shadows if Kristin hadn’t directly pointed him out.

His eyes haven’t exactly adjusted to the bar’s dim lighting yet; makes him have to squint with all tact out the window. There’s no pretending he’s doing anything other than trying to map out the face of the lone stranger.

Though there’s no pretending the stranger isn’t staring directly at him, either.

A leather-clad arm grabs his dusky tumbler and brings it up; lets it melt into the shadows he wears well. There’s an angular jaw and dark hair that blends in around him. The heavy tap-tap of a workman’s boot like an afterthought.

Whoever he is he’s definitely not dressed up for the festivities. Looks more at home in the shadows than the shadows themselves. Besides the glint of his eyes in the yellow bottled lights he wears the shadows perfectly.

Or maybe they wear him instead.

As a rule Taylor’s never been one to believe in cliches — things like love at first sight only happen in the movies. And judging by the chill that runs down his spine it’s definitely not love he’s feeling as his world zones in on the stranger and his shadows.

No, he’s quite familiar with this particular feeling; the tension in his jaw and the cold sweat that presses spandex and cotton to his back, the way things go a bit fuzzy around the edges and he’d rather this not happen ever again but definitely not now — not with people he knows.

Only… it doesn’t. As if he’s willed it into reality. Even with a heated face and the surprising tickle of sweat creasing on the outside of his eye.

Taylor waits, and waits, and waits… but the shadows stay shadowy and the man stays, well, manly. No hidden face in the depths — no sharp teeth or pitch-black eyes or, hell, rock-looking mountain skin.

The man is just a man. And as suddenly as the feeling overtakes Taylor it’s gone.

“Now Cookie, stop it — Taylor, hon? Taylor.”

Like the air was made of molasses and suddenly starts being air again Taylor turns his head all-too-quickly. Snaps to attention at Vera snapping her fingers in vain in front of his face. Lucky he’s still leaning against the bartop because the vertigo that follows is not pleasant.

“I… wha..?”

The back of her glove is warm against his forehead. He’ll have to buy her a new pair if he damages that one with his perspiration.

“Sweetheart,” the fact that the worry isn’t letting up in her tone should be evidence enough, “you look like the whole Mardi Gras parade just passed over your grave.”

The situation has the doubled effect of sobering Kristin up. She offers him what was supposed to be her water with a frown. “Damn, Tay, you look like a shadow or something.”

A shadow.

While terror at first sight might not be one of the cliches for the books he’s pretty sure vanishing into thin air is. The only thing left in the corner booth is the now-empty tumbler and a crinkled bill.

And there’s this sinking pit in his stomach that should he ask “Hey, what happened to that man in the corner?” the only answer he’ll get is “What man?” and another thing to tell his therapist about.

With shaking hands he takes the glass and sips it at Kristin’s urging.

“I —” god his throat burns like he’s not had a drop to drink in years, “— I think it might be my bedtime.”

He tries to laugh it off. Can’t even convince himself. Isn’t sure he wants to.

Vera gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. There’s something motherly about her smile. “I think it might be all’a our bedtimes.”

Kristin looks ready to argue — a look from her coworker stops her in her tracks; makes her silently agree.

Right now he couldn’t ask for better friends.

He could, however, ask for friends of a more sober variety.

“I don’t think this is the way to my place, guys. Why don’t we just call a car?”

“Relax worrywort,” Kristin tells him for the umpteenth time, “Vera grew up around here. She knows these streets like the back of her hand!”

She looks to Vera for confirmation but the look they get back is less than reassuring.

“It’s been a while since I’ve wandered these old roads, Cookie.” Vera looks apologetically at Taylor. He can’t blame her — he’s lived here more recently and still doesn’t know the back alleys and rues as well as he should.

“C’mon! Where’s your sense of adventure?” whines Kristin. Taylor’s pretty sure he left it back at the bar in the stranger’s corner.

Wherever they are they’re well beyond the party now. He strains to hear even the most distant sounds of the Quarter but the chorus of silence and accompanying locust orchestra.

Vera’s phone screen illuminates her face in a gaunt digital glow; shows just how quickly it turns into a frown. “That’s funky…”

“What is?”

She shakes her head, extends a hand. “Can I borrow your phone? My carrier must be mad I left New York.”

He offers it without thought. She takes Kristin’s, too, both screens like spotlights.

Funky isn’t the word he’d use to describe the troubled crease in her brow. “Vera; what is it?”

She lifts the phones skywards — points them at the numerous strings of telephone wires criss-crossing over them like a net. “Must be in a dead zone or something.”

Kristin giggles and knocks into his side. “Oooh how spooooky~”

Only he doesn’t share her sentiments. Not spooky but certainly troubling — and immediately his anxiety goes against him and decides to remember what Tilly the tour guide had said the day before about things worse than ghosts that liked to hang around New Orleans at night.

“Well then let’s walk until we find signal.”

There isn’t any three blocks to the right. Or two blocks up and four over. Kristin stops complaining about how much her heels make her feet ache a little while on. The night air’s done wonders to clear her head but he almost wishes she still had the distraction of a buzz to keep her from worrying.

If he wasn’t so concerned with the surroundings getting less and less familiar by the minute he might make a quip about their reliance on unreliable technology.

“What was that?!”

Taylor hisses; pries Kristin’s nails out of his arm like shrapnel. Can still hear her high-pitched shriek ringing in his ears. She sounds like just another cicada.

She’s fixated on the empty street behind them. Nothing moves under the dim lamplight — not even a bit of grass in the wind. Had there been a breeze before? He doesn’t remember.

Vera takes on a little bit of the Kristin-duty — gently coaxes her over to hold her gloved hand tightly and shushes her nice and steady.

“What spooked ya, baby girl?”

“I could have sworn I saw…” She searches the darkness with a scrutiny that doesn’t ease Taylor in the slightest. “There was a movement and…”

“And,” Vera finishes for her, “it was probably just a bird over the moon. You’re only freakin’ yourself out. One foot in front of the other, you know how it goes.”

It’s enough to get them moving again. Taylor rubs his hands over his bare arms and looks up at the cloud-covered moon.

Two more blocks and Taylor’s finally had enough. If they didn’t have any signal closer to civilization then they certainly aren’t going to get any in the heart of shotgun houses and street lights every quarter mile.

“This is getting us nowhere. Maybe we should just double back to the Qu —”

Kristin interrupts him with another shriek and a jabbed finger.

“There it is again!”

But, again, there’s nothing but the night. Taylor sighs. “Okay, no more ghost watch for Kris —”

This her third scream almost breaks his eardrums. Makes Taylor wince and clap a hand over one ear as he glares between the girls in frustration. How the hell she managed it with her mouth closed he doesn’t know, but it’s getting to be too much.

Makes him gawk at Vera who gives a full-body shiver. “Seriously?”

Tears prickle at the edges of Kristin’s eyes and her lower lip wobbles the same as it does when she sees a movie with more than one dog.

“Taylor… that — that wasn’t Kristin.”

“Stop, Vera, yes it —”

“Cher I’m standin’ right next to her.”

He takes a step forward. Feels a sudden cold like the bite of winter on the back of his neck as he places his clammy palm over Kristin’s mouth.

And, as if triggered by touch, the cicadas stop their serenade at the unearthly screech so loud it thins the air around them. The kind of noise that makes blood turn over and go sour. Makes it stop pumping in your chest and, in the void left, lets your heart begin pumping liquid fear instead.

They’ve all seen how this goes down: separation means being picked off, running means there’s something to run from. Like there’s something bred deep into their mortal bones the three take hands and usher one another along with haste.

“What is it?” Kristin whispers thickly.

“I don’t know —”

“— and I don’t want to find out.” Vera finishes for him. Keeps looking back behind them even though the high-pitched howl echoes off the ramshackle homes in all directions.

Taylor knows the logical thing to do would be to pound on doors until some sleepy, confused soul dares to confront them. Knows they’ll somehow be safe surrounded by thin walls and the presence of a stranger. The monsters in horror movies never show up when there’s an unknowing witness, right?

But logic doesn’t exist in horror movies.

And his life just became one.

The housing alleys open up onto a main road — deserted, as per horror movie logic — with a large brick wall across.

He recognizes it immediately.

“Come —” —does the howl that drowns him out sound closer or is it just him?— “— come on! Over the wall!”

They’re in the middle of the street when Vera gets her bearings; stops them all with a surprisingly strong grip despite the slippery gloves.

“No way!”

But the cemetery is so close. “Well we don’t exactly have a ton of options!” He hisses.

“Trust me on this when I say whatever’s locked up in there at night is worse than what might be out here.”

He yanks back his hand as if burned.

“What-ever?”

Taylor doesn’t miss it. Wouldn’t give a slip of the tongue much thought given the circumstances only Vera seems genuinely fearful at the distinction between who and what.

“Whoever—whatever! Just — that’s a dumb idea. You’re gonna get us killed.” She argues.

Kristin looks between them and bites her lip white. “Guys…”

“Vera, do you know something?”

“What — I don’t —”

“Do you know something about this?!”

In the absence of screeching the silence is somehow worse.

Vera looks down and to the left.

“No.”

Fuck. They so don’t have time for this right now.

“Krissy — come on!” Thank god she doesn’t hesitate — looks back at Vera crestfallen before crossing the road to the cemetery with him.

He’ll feel bad about leaving her behind if and when he gets the chance to look back — not fondly, no fucking way — but every nerve and fiber of his being is screaming uncertain about even that.

With grunts and effort he hikes Kristin up enough for her to grab onto the top of the wall. Fights off the paranoia that comes with the suddenly restless shadows around them.

Kristin lays flat on her belly at the top; reaches down and helps Taylor scramble up before his shoes can resist the mossy surface.

Poised to leap down he throws a last look back. Vera’s nowhere to be seen.

“Taylooor!”

He vaults down into the safe entrapment of Lafayette Cemetery Number Two.

Before both feet even hit the ground Kristin’s on him; smacking him with open palms and tears down her cheeks. “I can’t believe you just left her you asshole!”

She left Vera, too, but something tells him that’s not the right thing to say.

“It was her choice.”

“Dude — nobody thinks clearly in shit like this! Oh my god — what did I do? We need to go back.”

He grabs her wrists. “No. Krissy, no. Look at me. Look at me!” Doesn’t mean to shout but it’s the only way to get through to her right now. If anyone was the blonde in the movie…

“Something’s not right, okay?”

“Yeah, leaving her wasn’t —”

“No — fuck — stop! I mean it felt like she… she knew something… someone…”

And here comes the headache again. Maybe just being near alcohol is the problem. Can’t do much about it now — even sober it oozes from Kristin’s pores.

But is it a hallucination if they’re seeing—hearing—it too?

He watches her face crumple and does the only thing he can. Pulls her into a bone-crushing hug both to stifle her sobs and feel the grounding presence of her fluttering heartbeat.

“W-WW-We’re the dumb white teens in-n the gg-gore flick, Tay.”

There’s nothing humorous in his laugh.

“Yeah, we are.” Pushes her back gently and points behind her — across the cemetery to the far wall beyond.

“I was here yesterday. There’s a twenty-four hour cafe on that side. We make it there and by movie logic: no more being chased, right? Right?” He waits until she nods; tries to muster up a smile but knows the twist of it is nowhere near reassuring. “Good. Then come on.”

Only Vera had their phones. And the dead don’t need night-lights.

They use the worn stone tombs to keep themselves steady. Make it all the way to the dividing path of the cemetery under the cover of almost pitch darkness when the moon decides to peek its ugly mug out from behind the clouds.

The wind stops mid-groan.

He’s just being cautious. Just keeping an eye on their surroundings. No matter the who or the what there can be a very real danger posed in cemeteries at night. It’s not just a ploy to scare tourists. So he’s just being cautious.

Only he could repeat that excuse until his tongue bleeds and Taylor would know it’s not the whole truth. Not that he’d admit to knowing he needed to look at the entrance gates at that exact time in that exact place.

No; nothing save torture would get him to admit that.

Long wisps of tattered cloth billow in the still air. Translucent, like mummy wrappings. Trailing outwards from the gaunt and yellowing skull in a burial halo.

No, not a skull. Skulls don’t have flesh but as his eyes adjust to the waning moonlight he can see the rotting, putrid remains of skin still clinging; holding on for dear life against hard cheekbones, sinew holding together a gaping jaw.

The decay makes it harder to tell the difference between organic and fabric the more of the creature he takes in. Could play a funky little samba tune on each protruding rib but can’t see through it to the spine. The bones deform down at the hands; the talons bearing rust-covered manacles ripped from the depths of some place that makes him question his spirituality.

And Taylor imagines the combination might have made the feet of the thing look comical — if it had any. But it ends, stunted, at skin pulled taut over the pelvic bone before it dissolves into writhing maggots and the remains of what might have once been an angelic-white burial shroud.

But he’s an actor — he’s seen what the film industry can do, the magic of stage blood and putty. He’s seen some pretty ugly realities made from fake props.

It’s the smell that isn’t a fake. That same curling, chemical smell bodies have at wakes. Formaldehyde. And under that a sour and metallic odor that literally — no, literally — makes anything living near it wilt, brown, and wither into spidery white fungi and black-spiked mold.

The world is quiet. Almost blissfully so. Like it wants Taylor to let the creature be just another figment of his imagination.

It raises a claw. Warped fingers curled. And points at his heart.

Behind him Kristin gives a shattering shriek. The creature’s jaw falls gaping and meets her at every decibel.

His cries of “Go — go go — GO!” are lost to the ringing in his ears as the skeleton—thing—whatever-it-is raises its arms and tears through the metal gate in one fell swoop. Cuts through it like fingers through a waterfall and with the touch of death that makes the iron curl and twist in on itself; age with rust and years it shouldn’t have been forced to see so soon.

Then it’s floating — actually floating — towards them. Really really fast.

They trip over themselves, one another in their haste to run. Taylor makes sure to push Kristin ahead of him. Doesn’t know if that’ll do anything in the long run to prolong her life or just stave off her inevitable suffering but he can’t not try.

“Keep running!” Don’t look back.

“I am!”

“Don’t look back!” Keep running.

“Wasn’t planning on it!”

In a startling move Kristin grabs the corner of a mausoleum and whips around it — has to grab Taylor by the hem of his shirt so he can follow because there’s absolutely no way they’re splitting up now.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygo —”

His turn to yank her along through the narrowing paths between the crypts. “Nope — no time for that shit. Move!”

But in the back of his mind Taylor’s screaming at himself; they’re only going further into a cage of their own making. Leaping over the other wall was a good idea when they had the time and the clarity of mind but now, being chased by Jacob-Marley-from-Hell, they were in short supply of both.

And losing more by the second.

Hide. It’s coming.

Common sense, right? So why does Common Sense suddenly have a voice that echoes in his head like a thousand different cries?

Hide!

He spots the gaping void of black like moon gives it a spotlight. Grabs Kristin’s hair — he’ll apologize later — to get her attention. Together they slip between the sliver of space in the open stone door.

“In here!”

“What the fu—”

Taylor clamps his sweating hand over her mouth as their creature gives another howl to the night. Drags its claws against stone because why wouldn’t it be absolutely fucking terrifying like that?

He blinks; lets his eyes adjust to the almost-too-darkness to fixate on Kristin’s trembling eyes. A knowing glance and he lets his hand slip down.

“What do we do?”

Yeah, Common Sense, what do we do? Taylor knows he’s not going to get an answer. There’s no script here — no director and no blocking. Just him and his dumb brain being clouded by panic.

“All right listen,” he whispers back, “whatever… whatever that is it tore right through the gates. If we can get there maybe…”

“Maybe it’ll chase us out there?”

“Krissy.”

“I know — I know. I just…” She gives him a look and he knows. Feels it, too. That cold sweat and the fear of the unknown. But one step at a time.

They wait until the creature’s cry sounds distant; maybe on the other side of the cemetery? Maybe not — not that they really have a choice.

Taylor goes first. Looks left, right, left again and has a fucking heart attack at tree branches looming overhead but it’s enough space to run so they run for it.

Fouled rot his them like a wall and he doesn’t have to look back to know it’s behind them in hot pursuit. He does anyway. What skin is left around its mouth tears and snaps to push out another bellowing scream.

Blood drips hotly from its teeth.

“KRISSY RUN!”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice.

The chase could be minutes, could be seconds. It could be an hour-long montage of weaving in and out of narrow escapes and almost-captureds or something out of Scooby Doo. Whatever it is it sucks the life out of them both but only gives that thing more energy the longer it goes on.

And then—then—he catches sight of a familiar path of dead grass and a molding bereavement bouquet.

“Come on! We’re almost there!” he cries; reaches back behind him flailing for Kristin’s hand in his.

They’re going to make it.

I’m so sorry.

Stop. No. He can see the gate.

I’m so, so sorry.

Kristin’s fingertips like butterfly kisses brush his wrist. Then nothing. And now he knows how awful silence is compared to the cry of the dead.

Taylor skids to a stop. Turns to see Kristin just standing there in rigor mortis — just letting it approach her in undulating rags and spectral death. Watches with open-mouthed horror as one of the skeletal hands reaches out to touch her.

It’s obscene how gentle the touch looks. Soft like a lover brushing from the tip of her forehead to her parted lips. The more it trails the paler she becomes and he’s not crazy when he can see the pulsing, pounding of her veins running black instead of blue underneath her sheet-white complexion.

The hardest part is not knowing whether she turns to him in a last, desperate act or if the creature compels her head to turn. But the milky whites of her eyes are branded into his memory for good.

Kristin crumples to the dirt; another dead thing at its feet.

And it fucking grins at him.

The last thing Taylor realizes is how much the thing is enjoying it; this — the chase. Makes him feel a warmth down his legs through his jeans and leaves him paralyzed.

He’s pretty sure the image of Kristin’s eyes reflected in the abyss of its rotting sockets isn’t a hallucination. But the figure that appears seemingly out of nowhere behind? Oh most definitely.

And the bright white light that shines, radiates, swallows the shadows in a bellyful that leaves him blind? Yeah, that too.

And the weightlessness? Well… now he’s probably just dreaming.

He can’t remember… do horror films get last-minute rescues?

[having-a-freddie-time]

save me

summary: Y/N is trying her hardest to get out of an abusive relationship without telling anyone. However, she can’t always hide the bruises, especially from her best friend since childhood, Ben Hardy. Once he finds out, he tries his best to help her out without her getting hurt.

warnings: slight angst?, doctor talk, hospitals, cussing, lil bit of fluff. overall, nothing too bad.

a/n: i feel like four parts is a good buildup for the bomb to be dropped, right? i hope y'all enjoyed the last chapter. it was shorter than i anticipated but i think i got the point across?

word count: will put in later

•••••••••••••

Ben lied to the nurses at the nurse's station saying he was your fiance just so he could stay with you all night. Gwil, Lucy and occasionally Rami would stop by. Even Brian and Roger stopped by. When Ben was filming Bohemian Rhapsody, he snuck you onto set just so you could meet Brian and Roger. They instantly loved and adored you, which made them your grandpa figures. You'd joke with them and call them "gramps" or "papa".

On one particular day, you felt a wave of depression hit you hard. You loved having your friends visit you and all, but you still felt incomplete. Like there was something missing from you. You were on the road to recovery, yet you felt like something was still wrong.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at your door and in walked your neuro surgeon. He greeted you with a warm smile as he and his group of nurses walked in. It was a shame he wasn't Derek Shepherd. He was young, probably late late 20's early 30's. He was not bad looking at all, shiny dark brown hair, forest green eyes and the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. Sadly, he had a ring on his finger, which you respected.

"Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N. I just came in to remind you that you have a neuro checkup in a few hours. We're just going to get a CT to check the brain bleeds and how they're healing, then we're going to be asking you a series of questions. Otherwise, it's a pretty normal checkup."

He smiled sweetly and tapped away at the tablet in his hands. Nurses took your daily vitals, checked your incision sites and gave you your antibiotics to fight any infections that might appear. You had already gotten used to this daily routine that you could basically do it yourself, the nurse was just there to assist.

Ben had left to go get some breakfast for the both of you. The day you found out that you were finally allowed to eat solids, you begged Ben every morning to get you waffles from your favorite breakfast diner. You still ate the hospital food every now and then because it wasn't as shitty as people make it out to be. It wasn't like you were in some run down hospital, you were in the number one trauma center. They were number one for a reason.

Ever since you had gotten here, you felt safe and at home. Doctors and nurses treated you with such kindness that you were baffled. The staff always made sure you were comfortable and not in any pain. You tried your hardest not to be one of those pain in the ass patients. Nurses had told you horror stories of them having to deal with patients who had to stay as long as you had to. The craziest story you've heard was when a woman was here for five months and acted like she owned the hospital. You laughed and joked around with Anita on the daily. She was an older black nurse that had you laughing so hard you had tears. You made a mental note to send them gift baskets when you leave.

Although you had been pretty happy for a trauma patient, you had your depressing days. Days where Ben would just sit and watch you. He'd try to start a conversation but it was no point, you wouldn't even look at him. Doctors told him that it was completely normal for domestic abuse survivors to have these types of days and the only way to help is to just be there for them. You didn't argue when you were required to see the trauma therapist that they had there. He was a nice old man, very wise and really helped you realize so many things. You appreciated his quick wit and humor. He knew when to be serious and when to be a little goofy.

Ben came back into the room, setting your waffles down in front of you. You silently dug into the scrumptious breakfast before you and watched whatever was on the little flat screen before you. You had been moved to a more private room in the hospital. This area was more for big name people and since Ben was with you, you qualified for one. This private area kept paparazzi and unwanted people out. It wasn't much different from the other rooms, just more private.

"I have a neuro check up at 1 today, gonna get a CT and they're gonna ask me more questions." You mumbled before shoveling a piece of waffle, drenched in syrup and whipped cream into your mouth. Ben nodded as he ate bacon dipped in syrup.

"Did they say anything else about anything? Like if you would be released soon?"

You shook your head no and swallowed. They said it would take quite awhile for you to heal but you had been healing faster than anticipated.

"I think they just want to make sure I'm mentally and emotionally stable before they discharge me. Which I understand completely."

"You've been doing good with Dr. Smith?"

You nodded with a small smile lifting your lips. Ben mirrored the smile and continued to stuff his face with bacon and waffles. After about 15 minutes of the two of shoving your face with food, you were finished. Ben took your to go box and threw away, along with his stuff. You sat back into the bed, sighing softly and closing your eyes.

"I feel incomplete."

"What do you mean? You just ate."

"No not that way dummy!"

"Then what do you mean?"

"I miss my family. I wish they were here with me. Don't get me wrong, I love you and everything and you're the closest thing to family I've got but I want my mom and dad, and my brother. Now that Trevor is gone, I want to contact them."

"Then why don't you call them?"

"I'm too scared. I'm afraid they're angry with me and that they won't want to see me. I literally isolated myself from them for two years, Ben!" You exhaled and bit your lip. Your eyes dropped in sadness as you went into thought. You heard Ben move around then a second later he's laid up next to you.

He throws his arm lazily around you, carefully so he doesn't touch any of your incision sites and cuddles into you. You smile softly and melt into him. It wasn't uncommon for you and Ben to be cuddled with each other. Ever since kindergarten, you'd both take naps with each other. Your parents could have sworn that Ben was the long lost triplet you and your brother had.

Soon enough, you had both fallen asleep, light snores filling the silence that pierced your room.

▪▪▪▪▪

About 2 and half hours later you woke up to the sound of Anita knocking on your door. She walked in quietly, smiling at the sight before her. You nudged Ben to wake him up, it took him a second but he finally opened his eyes, rubbing them with his fists.

"Time to take you to your check up, hon. We'll be back soon."

You nodded and sat up, stretching your arms out. Ben transitioned from the bed to the chair, looking at you. You swung your legs over the bed and carefully stood up. Your balance has been a little off but it's a normal issue for you.

Ben held his arms out for you, in case you needed him. Anita walked over to you to move the metal rolling thing that had your I.V on it. Slowly you both walked to the wheelchair she had brought it. You plopped into the cushioned seat and situated yourself.

"I'll see you soon, Bear."

Ben nodded at you and brought his index and middle finger to his forehead, signing off to you. You giggled and mirrored his actions as Anita wheeled you out of the room.

As soon as Ben could see you were out of ear shot, he picked up his phone and made an important phone call. He bit his lip in anticipation, waiting for the person on the other line to pick up.

"Mrs. Y/L/N? It's Ben!"

•••••••••••

Finally you and Anita arrived to the CT machine. You stood up slowly while Anita situated your I.V. Dr. Peterson, your neurosurgeon, sat on the other side of the window, a welcoming smile on his lips.

"How you doing today, Y/N?" He asked into the microphone.

"I'm dog tired and wanna go home but otherwise pretty good. No headaches or anything. Vision is still a little bit fuzzy but we both know I need glasses." You said, giving him a thumbs up.

"That's good to hear. You ready to get started?"

You gave him another thumbs up as you laid down on the table. He nodded and pressed the button, which caused you to move backwards, your head going into the circle.

You sat there for about 5 minutes when you heard the speaker beep. The machine whirred and slowly brought you out of the machine. Dr. Peterson gave you a thumbs up, indicating that it was okay for you to leave.

Anita came in and quickly got you sat down and ready to go. You yawned and laid your head back on the chair, staring at the ceiling.

"Just meet me in the exam room, I'll go have get the results." Anita nodded and wheeled you into an exam room.

Once you got there, you sat down and waited patiently for him to come back with the results. You tapped your fingers against your thigh as Anita took your vitals and started a conversation with you.

"You know, cardio and general cleared you. All you need is to get cleared by neuro and psych. Then sometime in the next week or so, you'll be discharged."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! You've been here for nearly two months. Your wrist is healing perfectly, your incision sites are perfectly fine. Now all we need is for your emotions and your noggin to be cleared."

You giggled at her word choice and smiled. You couldn't wait to get out, as nice as it has been, you miss your bed. Dr. Peterson walked in with a huge smile on his face. You hoped it was a genuine and not fake.

"I think I have the best news you've heard all week."

"Tell me!"

"Well Ms. Y/L/N, your CT results are in..." He took a dramatic pause as if he was about to announce who just won an Oscar for best drama.

"Your brain bleed is completely healed, you're concussion free and your brain function is the best it could ever be!"

Your eyes lit up in excitement as you couldnt believe your ears. You stood up and instantly wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing him so tightly. You released and gave him the biggest smile, then you turned to Anita and did the same, all the while laughing and cheering.

"I can't believe it! I'm gonna get discharged soon!"

The three of you cheered and hugged. You had just heard the best news you could ever hear. You couldn't wait to tell Ben and finally be able to leave. Without realizing it, you had tears streaming down your cheek. Not because you were sad, no, because you were so happy.

"I'm so happy. Not only because I'm getting discharged soon, but because when I leave this hospital, I will be a survivor of domestic abuse. I won't have to worry about having to cover up bruises and scars and cuts. He's gone. I'm free."

You sobbed with pure happiness. You never felt so happy in your entire life. Anita pulled you into a tight but careful hug. She was the closest person to a mother figured that you've had in awhile. She felt the same amount, if not more, happiness that you radiated.

Dr. Peterson couldn't help but tear up to. He had to admit, working on cases with domestic abuse victims, sexual assault victims or anything like that, really hit him hard. He was so honored to have helped her to the road of recovery.

After the three of you celebrated and cheered, you finally were headed back to your room. Today had been pretty long and exhausted, but it was all worth it in the end.

Soon enough, you approached your room. Anita wheeled you in, not realizing that there were more people in the room. You had your eyes closed as you yawned and stretched your body out, from your arms all the way down to your toes.

Suddenly, you had heard a familiar voice echo throughout the room.

"Y/N, my baby..."

"Mummy...?"

•••••••••••••

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