#like they're acting as everything is fine but then you see they're wincing from time to time

[whump-side]

This is a specific whump trope that has been sitting in my mind and I had to draw it. Hidden injury but not so hidden? Whumpees are on their recovery journey, all is good, all is fine, but the bandages and pain are still here whever they're trying to conceal it or not

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now | The Aftermath

House or Home?

It’s been about a year or so and they're finally looking at moving in together, properly this time, but Mouse is stubborn and Matty’s… Matty. 

“I hate it.”

Matty all but deflated at the three words, eyes sweeping over to where the estate agent was still stood in the kitchen doorway to the pretty four bedroom house they’d found in South Hampstead. 

In her defence, she still had that godawful smile plastered across her face, as though the entire statement bothered her none, but her eyes told a different story. They were screaming.

Matty couldn’t blame her, not when this was the eighth house Mouse had turned down this week alone. And it was only fucking Tuesday.

“Squeaks, babe.” Matty quietly attempted, mouth opening once more in an effort to get the woman to see sense. The house had everything they were looking for, it was more than perfect and how could it not be with an actual garden that Teddy could run rampant in and a sodding wine cellar to boot. 

But she cut him off, spinning around on her heel to shake her head at the agent in a silent apology. “Sorry. It’s just not gonna work.” It was all that was said before she took off, leaving Matty standing there awkwardly with the estate agent, hands tucked in his back pockets like a kid meeting their mum’s new boyfriend for the first time.

The woman, lovely girl named Mila, slumped slightly but kept up the act, pretending like all was fine and dandy, probably more than used to dealing with shit like this. 

“Sorry love, it’s just a big decision. You know?” Matty tried to soothe, lips pulling into a thin smile made mostly of regret. And it was exactly that– a big decision. 

It had been just over a year since that whole fallout had happened with the media and the sudden silence between them. And shit had cropped up every now and again after it; his management team had been a fucking nightmare to coerce and convincing themselves that this thing that they had was worth trying for had been daunting. But they’d put it all behind them in the end, they’d moved on.

And now here they were, buying a house. A home. Because Teds was getting bigger and bigger by the day, enough so that he now had a proper big boy bed and could ride a bike that took up a chunk of his bedroom. But also because Matty suddenly had a shit ton of crap to relocate since he’d moved out of and sold his London gaff, having slowly slunk his way into the flat he’d come to think of as home. 

All in all, Mouse’s was simply running out of room to hold them all.

Mila waved his apology off though with a single hand gesture, tucking the ipad she constantly held under her right arm. “It’s fine, I get it. Every client’s different.” She told him easily enough, but her smile was still so weary when she looked back at him, “I’ll get to looking for a couple more properties for you.”

Matty nodded, but let his eyes flit back over to the antique cabinets he could so easily picture Teds hiding in whilst they played a round of hide-and-seek, as well as the large kitchen island that they could all use for big get-togethers or family dinners. He gave a halfhearted sigh before allowing himself to take a small step back and follow Mila when she started to turn. “‘Spose this happens all the time then?” He asked her, hoping to fill the quiet walk from the kitchen to the front door.

There was a small pause, and then, “Sure.”

Wincing at that, Matty was more than a little thankful to be walking a step behind the woman, especially when they stepped out the front door onto a porch that screamed American Dream and spotted Mouse propped up against the Jeep’s passenger door. 

He tried to give Mila another polite smile when she told him that this had been the last viewing she would have for them for a little while and that she’d soon be in touch. Matty just shook her hand, thanking her again for her time, before they parted ways and he was walking back on over to the car.

He slid into his seat, hearing Squeaks follow, and didn’t say a word as he backed out of the paved driveway, admiring the stonework that lined the verdant grass and the fenced gate as they drove out of it. With one final glance at the house in the rearview mirror, he reached out to switch the radio on, the AC quickly following.

It was just as he made a left turn at the end of the quaint street that Matty heard a small intake of breath, he waited for the eventual…

“It just didn’t feel right.”

Even with the slight frustration he felt, Matty licked at his lower lip and looked right to hide the slight smile he wore. He hummed softly over the low buzz of the speakers, “You’ve said that about the last sixteen, baby.”

Mouse let go of a harsh breath and Matty felt his grin grow. “Well, then I guess the last sixteen didn’t feel right!” She retorted and threw her hands up in exasperation before crossing them over her chest, fingers moving to toy with the elbow of her sleeve. “I’ll know it when I see it, okay?”

Matty flicked an amused brow in the direction of the passenger seat and received a scornful glare for it in return, so he merely resorted to surrendering, glancing back out at the empty road ahead. “Okay.”

They stayed in a quiet little bubble the whole drive back to the flat. Matty’s mind stuck on the house they’d just viewed, on the long winding staircase, the extra bedrooms it offered, that waterfall shower. By his standards, it would’ve been perfect. It should have been.

It took a little wrangling but he did eventually manage to find a space to park on the overflowing sidestreet that their flat resided on when they finally got home, but it was at that point that Squeak’s phone rang. She moved on autopilot after answering it, unbuckling her seatbelt swiftly whilst Matty turned the car off and locked up.

She had a slight crease between her brow as they made their way up the few short steps which led to the front door and tugged a hand through her hair just as he worked the key into the worn gold lock. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Ah, just–” Matty listened to her pause in the entryway and glanced back, waiting by the radiator for her to shoot a quick glance his way so that he could ask a silent question with just a single look. She mouthed Teddy’s name before she was speaking into the phone again, only proving to puzzle Matty further. “Alright, can you hang on just a sec? Alright, thanks.”

Matty watched closely as she pressed the phone to her chest to muffle any sound the speaker might pick up and chewed on her lower lip. “What’s happened?”

Mouse raked her hand through her hair again and blew out a breath, “Teds has hit his head at school, they say he’s fine but the bumps come up quick. Need him to be picked up.”

It was immediate the way Matty’s pulse quickened at the implication of Teddy having been hurt and so he was pretty hasty as he moved to grab the keys he’d just set down on the hallway’s side, already gravitating towards the door before Mouse could even utter another word. “I can be there in ten minutes, just let them know it’ll be me coming, yeah?”

A year ago, Squeaks would’ve reeled a bit at the entire situation, what with Matty taking charge on matters where her son was concerned and on her not being the one to drop everything just to go and pick him up, but now she barely batted an eye. Instead, Matty watched on as she nodded, face full of relief as she stepped forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before she was speaking into the phone again, demanding to know what had gone down.

Matty slipped back out the front door with a slight rattle, his typical gait quickening as he hurried on over to the car, jumping in and starting it up once more before he could even think to worry about finding a better parking space than this when they eventually got back. Mind focused solely on getting to Teddy.

In the time Matty had known the kid, Teddy had only gotten sick twice. The first time had been this little bug, it had given him a bad belly and a bit of a cough but hadn’t affected him all that much. Still, Matty had fretted all the same, nursed him back to health and had barely left his side, even if that had meant listening to the same episode of Blue’s Clues on repeat for three days straight. The second though, that had been a lot more frightening.

Winter had rolled its way back around as it tended to do and the usual flu had taken its hold. Matty himself had picked something up off of one of their roadies during the promotional tour they’d been doing for the latest album in Europe. The tour had only lasted a couple of weeks, but he’d still been jumping back and forth between this city and that just so that he could see Teds and Squeaks as often as possible. But that in itself had also meant that Teddy had ended up catching the same bout of flu, too.

Matty had been beside himself when he’d first heard, guilty for the fact that he’d had the precious little gremlin sniffling down the phone on their next call. But Mouse had just laughed and shook her head at him, promising that Teds would be as right as rain soon enough. But not even she could have prepared for the way the kid had taken a sharp turn overnight.

Jamie had shaken Matty awake at four am, not long after they’d managed to make it to Sheffield and hunker down for the night in some swanky hotel. He’d been bleary eyed and still recovering from the relentless cough that had been wreaking havoc on his lungs for the past week when he’d rolled over to find his manager's nervous face staring down at him. 

Teddy’s fever has spiked, he’d said.

It had been a freight train of emotions after that. Jamie had somehow managed to score him a flight down from Manchester to London in less than a half an hour. But by that point Matty had already been in the back of a cab, trembling hands texting with Adi whilst the woman had updated him on every single thing that had occurred back home. 

Seemed that Teddy’s temperature had risen so quickly, having jumped from a steady 38 to 42 in less than an hour, which had prompted the most agonising hospital trip of Matty’s entire life. And that was including each time he’d fucked up and been wheeled there himself. 

It had taken him just over two hours to get down to them, so by that point Teddy had only just been properly seen and Mouse was in silent hysterics. Adi had ordered Finn to come pick him up from the airport, but back then the two of them had still been in this awkward sort of stalemate and so neither had spoken a word apart from when the other man had finally attempted to calm Matty’s anxious tapping. 

“He’ll be okay.” It was all that he had said, but Matty had found himself nodding along in quiet agreement all the same whilst he’d rattled his phone against his knee, ready to jump out of the car at a second's notice.

Driving over to collect the kid from school now, Matty felt that same agitation. The need to just be there, to see for himself that Teddy was okay. It was all that he could do to not hightail it over and fuck every traffic law he could somewhat remember just to ebb the sinking feeling that had wormed its way into his gut.

He did eventually manage to get there, making it in just under ten minutes after he’d accidentally ran a red and parked in a teacher's bay outside. 

The receptionist startled a tad at his sudden appearance, eyes probably as big as saucers and darting about the room in hopes to find Teds stood waiting there for him. But the kid was nowhere to be seen, and so Matty crossed the room to speak to her.

“Hi, here to collect Teddy? You rang, said something about him hitting his head?”

Matty had dropped Teddy to and from school more times than he could count, but collecting him from the office? That was something he’d never done before. Never even thought about, actually. And so he was fucking unsure on what the fuck kind of etiquette these people were supposed to use here. Did she need his ID, his passport? A picture of him and Teddy ice skating?

“Oh! Okay then, I’ll just fetch him for you. If you could sign him out here for me?” She pointed towards a clipboard and pen sat just off to the side and then smiled one last time before she wandered away.

Matty blinked and watched her slip out a side door. Was that it?

All he had to do was just sign the kid out? 

Matty released a heavy breath and shook his head at the thought, figuring it best to just do as was expected and have a word about it with Squeaks later on, maybe it was just something he was missing.

As it happened, he’d just finished scrawling down the last of his name when the door inside the office squeaked open causing him to jolt the y in Healy as his head snapped up.

It was as though all the tension he’d ever felt seeped out of him in that very moment. Years of stress from fucking performing, of trying to get through his own stupid exams back at school, and maybe even the trouble of having dealt with his parents and their shitty divorce. All of it just vanished when he looked over to find Teddy already grinning at him with his little book bag slung over his shoulder and a Spidey plaster stuck to the side of his eyebrow.

“Matty!” Teddy all but squealed as the kid darted away from the receptionist to barrel headfirst into his legs. Matty felt his heart give out a little at the sight of the tyke, obviously not as traumatised as he’d been expecting him to be.

“Alright, monster?” He replied softly, bending down a tad to scoop Teddy up into his arms, eyes flickering over every inch of his face just to be certain he wasn't hiding any other injuries. “Heard you had a bit of a tumble.”

Teddy nodded, almost excitedly, and Matty fought not to shake his head, utterly bewildered by the fact that the kid wasn't more phased. He almost wanted to scream, in truth. This amount of worrying wasn’t typical, alright? And he was fucking getting up there in age! All the stupid shit he’d managed to achieve during his livelier years and the life choices he’d made added up in the end, didn’t they? So it was an honest to God miracle that he hadn’t suffered a sodding aneurysm on the way over here, or something of the sort. 

“Just a little fall apparently.” Matty heard someone say and he looked up only to be reminded of the fact that the receptionist was still standing there, watching. She gifted him a sweet smile, eyes caught on the way Teddy clung to his neck and the way he appeared to cling back. “There’s an accident report in his bag for you to look at, they go home with all the little ones. The nurse said it wasn’t anything too big and that he should be fine, but it’s best to keep an eye on these things so if anything out of the ordinary does happen it’s best to take him to the local A&E.”

Matty felt his mouth go dry at the very implication and so he wet his lower lip just before he exhaled a little shakily. “Right,” He swallowed thickly, hand smoothing over a riot of curls and pausing on the small bump he felt at the top of Teddy’s head. “And the plaster?”

The woman blinked and weirdly Matty felt a little caught out, as though he was suddenly this afternoon's entertainment. He wondered briefly if she knew just who he was. 

“That’ll have been jotted down on the report too, but from what I heard it was just a little cut above the brow.” The receptionist answered him, extending an arm out to pat Teddy’s back before she stepped away again, “You really were brave today, Teddy.”

The kid puffed up at that, smiling proudly, but his eyes remained glued on Matty and so he returned the bright grin, kissing the side of Teddy’s head before he hitched him up further on his hip. “No stitches then?”

“Tiniest of scratches.” The woman assured him around a wide smile as she shook her head and waved his worries off.

Matty dipped his head in a slight nod, looking down at Teddy once more. “Anything else I need to do then, or?” He asked, letting that or drag out as he inched closer towards the door he’d previously barreled through.

“You should be good to go.” She told him, eyes still lingering. “It was nice to meet you though!”

“Yeah,” Matty replied as he struggled with the door, “you too.”

By the time the pair of them made it back outside and into the car Teddy was keeping up a constant babble, explaining (but not actually) just how he’d fallen and hit his head. From what Matty could make out it was when he was running to escape the fishmen? And so he could only guess that him and his mates had been playing a weird round of a tag at breaktime and Teddy had taken a plunge into the wrong kind of waters. 

“You’re sure you’re okay though, mate?” Matty asked him once they were about a minute or two away from the flat and Teddy’s ramblings had died out a tad. He glanced in the rear mirror to find Teds picking at the plaster above his brow.

“Uhuh.” Was the answer he received in turn and it was enough to dislodge the last of that worry that had been eating away at his chest. 

Matty figured then was as good a time as any to try and talk with him a little. The whole drive back from viewing that house, before they’d gotten the scare from the school, he’d been thinking and thinking. Enough to have concocted the beginnings of a small plan. 

“Remember how we was talking about looking for a new house, Teds?”

Matty’s thumbs tapped at the top of the steering wheel as he waited for a reply, oddly grateful for the small queue of traffic that sat up ahead. It would give them a bit more time.

“Yeah, you said a garden!” Teddy answered him and Matty figured he seemed excited enough about it all when the toe of the kid’s school shoe kicked the back of his chair. “That could mean a dog, right? Taylor has a dog!”

Matty fought back a laugh, the lad’s only just performed a stunt that’s gone tits up and landed him with a wound to the head but he’s more worried over when or if they’ll be getting a dog. Though, to be fair to him, a dog did sound nice. He could picture one now, out there on that grassy patch of land behind that particular house rolling about with Teddy. 

“That’s cool, mate. But I was just wondering what you thought about it all. A new house could mean a bigger bedroom for you, you know? Could have a couple sleepovers maybe, with a few of your friends from school.”

Matty didn’t have to glance back to know that Teddy’s eyes had shot open wide, he heard it all in that delighted little gasp he made. He chuckled.

“And remember my old house? How we used to make pancakes in the kitchen whenever you and mum would stay over?” Matty reminded him, eyes flicking up into the mirror to watch Teds nod at him, “Reckon we could do that again in the new house ‘cause it’d be a lot bigger, means we could all fit in there. Could even do your homework whilst we cooked in the evenings. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t like homework though.”

Matty laughed as the traffic started to pick up again, he moved to shift into gear. “Me neither, little man. But you’re a whole lot smarter than me so I reckon if we roped mum into helping too it’d all be done a lot quicker. And we could do that in the new house, don’t you reckon?”

“Yeah, and then I could get my Spidey walls!” Teddy exclaimed, bouncing in his carseat now, enough so that Matty was honestly a little fretful that he’d fall out of the thing. 

“You remembered that one, hey?” 

“You promised, ‘member!” Teddy shot back at him just as Matty turned onto their street, shoulders slumping in relief when he found that there was a space free a little further down.

“Yeah, I do, mate. Swear I haven’t forgotten.” He reassured and smiled to himself as he parked up and continued to listen to the dreams Teddy had for his future bedroom. And fuck anyone who thought he wouldn’t make them happen.

The two of them walked down the street hand in hand once Matty had pulled the monster free from his homemade rocking chair– and made sure that the thing was as secure as it should be. Teddy was happy to talk away, squealing when he caught sight of next door’s tabby cat and then bouncing in Matty arms when he had just about managed to scoop the kid up before Teds had gone bounding into the road to follow the skittish thing. 

By the time they’d made it in through the front door, Matty was sure he couldn’t take much more after the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on most of the day. 

“Squeaks?” He called out whilst he coaxed Teddy into kicking off his shoes and jacket, only just managing to peel the bookbag off the kid when Mouse came into view.

“Mama! Look at my Spidey sticker!” Teds called out as he tumbled on over to the woman, pointing to his head. In truth, it was a mystery how he didn’t take another tumble then and there, what with the way he was skidding about all over the floors. 

Matty let go of a weighted sigh and took to shucking off his own shit, dropping his boots onto the shoe stand before he hung up his jacket beside Teddy’s. When he stood back on his feet Teds had already hurried off into the living room, happy to be home from school again it seemed and not caring about the grape sized lump protruding from the side of his head.

Mouse quirked a brow at him when he stepped nearer, hiding her amused smile at his wary appearance, but still willing to let him wrap his arms around her waist and his head fall against her neck. “Okay, lovely?” She murmured into his hair and Matty felt himself nod slightly.

“Shattered.”

“Life of having kids, babe.” Squeaks chuckled, running a hand through his curls before resting it on the nape of his neck, “Thank you for going to get him.”

Matty pulled away to frown down at her, brow pinched. “Don’t thank me, you muppet. It’s weird.”

She simply resorted to snorting at the reply he’d given and then smiled, “I just appreciate it, is all. That alright with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Matty pinched her side before he slipped away. “Nope. But you can make it up to me by making dinner?”

He received a halfhearted scowl at the attempt but her smile was warm and soft and everything he loved, so he didn’t worry too much as he went to join Teddy on the settee.

Apparently, he hadn’t really needed to ask about dinner because it seemed as though Mouse had already had the foresight to have gotten a start on it when he’d been gone. So after he’d made sure that Teds was sweet and honed into his show, he’d peeled himself off the comfy cushions and headed into the kitchen to help out. 

Cooking together was something Matty had always loved. In the early days, he’d just been content to sit there and watch her work. But now he enjoyed helping out, even if it meant being bossed about or bumping into one another in the too small space.

It was just when they brushed against one another again, as she bent down to open the oven door that he only just narrowly missed toppling over the side of, that Matty could no longer hold his tongue on the subject.

“This place feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller by the day.” 

His words were merely met by a low hum whilst Squeaks continued to check on the food. Matty spared another halfhearted glance around the cramped kitchen, at the small wooden table and the tiny fridge tucked up under the counter. Then at the washing machine that was on its last legs and the pile of pots and pans they had no space for. 

“That house we saw was massive, kitchen was sort of like one of those you’d find in a catalogue, don’t you think?” He pressed a little further, tongue toying with the back of his front teeth as he struggled not to peer back over at her to witness her reaction. “Wouldn’t be bumping into one another all the time if we chose something like that.” He chuckled, but the sound of it was quickly cut short by the slam of the oven door.

“What, so you don’t like bumping into me anymore?” Mouse asked and Matty shifted to find her standing there by the hob, tea towel fisted in the hand she held at her hip. “‘Cause I do. I like coming home to you, to us spending time with each other, even if it’s in silence. I enjoy brushing past you in the kitchen and in the hallway, and even in the bathroom when you claim you have to brush your teeth the very second I do!”

Matty blinked.

“I love this flat, Matty. I love the fact that the rent’s cheap! That we’re chummy with the landlord and the neighbours aren’t half bad. That I can count on them to watch Teddy if something ever did happen!” Mouse exclaimed, staring back at him with those big eyes of hers, chest almost heaving.

“Teddy’s first steps were taken here!” She continued on, as though it had just slowly been building up inside her and had suddenly found its chance to blow. She paused, only to point up at the ceiling to where a splodgy patch of something hung above them, “See that stain? That’s from when Teds had his first bowl of bolognese. And that chip in the tile right there? That’s from when you dropped that planter you got me after you’d come home from tour!” 

Matty stared down at the chip now, noting that it wasn’t the only imperfection in the mosaic of tiles, but one that he could remember making as clear as day.

His silence must have lingered on too long though because Mouse then took his wrist and led him out of the kitchen, she stopped short to point at the plethora of guitars that crowded a corner of the living room. “And how about that mark on the wall? The one made when Ross and George came over for Halloween and all those guitars went toppling over as they chased after Teds.”

Teddy was watching them now, eyes having wandered away from the tele set and over to where Squeaks gripped his hand a little tighter to tug him along behind her and into the hallway. 

She paused by the door to Teddy’s room and Matty already knew what was coming.

“You told me you loved me here.” She murmured, stealing the breath right out of his lungs, before she then turned to spare a glance at the front door. “And we can’t forget that door.”

Matty breathed out a faint chuckle, his startled gaze moving to find hers in the dimly lit hall, only her eyes were glassy and darting back and forth between his own, almost pleadingly. 

“I know it’s too small. And I know we can’t stay here forever. But it’s home. It’s a place made up of all my best memories, Matty.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Because suddenly he realised that this was why she had claimed that she had hated every house that they had gone to look at. Why she had been so adamant on getting it right, on finding the right one. Why she had made up excuse after excuse to get out of viewings, to turn each one of them down.

Matty reached over to cradle her face before he pulled her in close, hands falling to hold her. He smiled softly when he caught a flash of movement just out of the corner of his eye. It was barely a gesture, let alone a nod of his head, but Teddy knew what it meant all the same and bolted over from where he’d been standing in the doorway of the living room to join them.

Matty understood then. That the flat was a part of them. But moving didn’t have to mean giving all their memories up. It could simply mean creating new ones, better ones. He only hoped that he could somehow convince Mouse of that. Because he knew that she wanted this too, deep down, she wanted a place that could be all of theirs, that they could mould and shift and shape into their own. But she was just so afraid to let go of the past, to take that next step, to leave the memories they’d made here together behind.

But he would show her it would all be fine. Somehow.

So with that thought, Matty went and did the one thing he knew would have to work.

A week passed after that emotional afternoon and things mostly settled. Matty hadn’t brought up another thing about house hunting or viewing talks with Mila, and so he could only guess that Mouse had been somewhat lulled into the sense of thinking that that had been the end of it all.

But then they were on their way back from Hann and Carly’s the next Wednesday, they’d had lunch and talked music, and Squeaks had been none the wiser when Matty had taken the Jeep down a wrong turn.

It was only when they’d pulled onto the street and the gravel beneath the tyres had levelled and softened out that Mouse had perked up a little in her seat. Her brow was pinched when she finally turned to face him, eyes darting around, “Think you missed an exit back there.”

Matty didn’t give her reply as he scanned the street for that familiar number, the weight of an unknown pair of keys sitting heavily in his right trouser pocket.

“Matty, do you even know where we are?” Mouse wondered again before she started messing about with the navigation system on the console. But Matty didn’t pay it much mind, continued to roll the car further and further down the street until they reached that fenced gate he’d exited through the last time they were here. “Matty?”

He came to a slow halt and switched the engine off, shooting her a sly smirk before he slipped out the side door.

“Matty!” Mouse called after him in a hiss, but Matty was already jogging up the few short steps to that painted white porch, a tiny set of keys already warming his palm. “Matty, what the fuck are you doing? You wanna get done for breaking and entering?”

Matty snorted softly to himself whilst he slotted the key into the lock and silently thanked the lovely Mila, reminding himself to get the girl a proper thank you gift if this all worked out the way he was hoping.

Squeaks called out to him one more time as he stepped over the threshold, a smile dawning on his face as he paused to wait for her to join him.

“Matty–” She was a tad bit out of breath but mostly exasperated by the time her fingers caught on the hem of his sleeve, but then she jolted beside him not a second later. He waited, peered over at her to watch her take in the familiar surroundings and smiled when the skin between her brows ultimately furrowed. “Why are we here, Matty? Isn’t this the last house we saw?”

Grinning, Matty linked his fingers through hers and gently lured her nearer. “Doesn’t hurt to take a second look around, does it?”

Mouse must have been more than a little perplexed by the whole ordeal because she didn’t fight him on the matter when he started to move them further inside— and in truth, he was really fucking thankful for that fact because he figured getting her inside would be the hardest task. And yet here they were.

The hallway back at the flat was about the same size as a twin bed and morphed into a narrow corridor which led onto the two bedrooms and the singular bathroom it had to offer. Here though, the entryway was wide and spacious. The current owners had a bench lined up on one wall where a pair of tall windows perched either side of the front door and the wooden floorboards that ran throughout the whole house homed a large vintage rug, which sat beneath a table in the centre of the room and held a rather bright bouquet.

Matty’s eyes stilled on the wide set of stairs though sat just behind the many flowerheads. “Couldn’t you picture Teds running about in here? Like, him storming in after school with all his mates behind him.” He wondered aloud, smiling as he took another step further inside. “And those stairs, I could see us taking Christmas photos there– like mum used to force me into doing back when I was a kid.”

He hadn't actually expected a reply and so he had to dampen his grin when she chuckled sweetly in return, “What, the three of us all decked out in matching jumpers?”

“Or pjs.” Matty countered before he led her a little further away, pointing out the large fireplace which they could use in the colder months and the downstairs loo that he could see becoming a lifesaver as Teddy grew older. “And look at this dining room, baby! We could have all the guys over at once in here, Adi and your mum too! Sunday roasts round ours, hey? Especially once the rest of the boys have littluns of their own.” 

She didn’t say much to that but her eyes were scanning, surveying even, and so Matty took that as a win and together they moved further forward into the famous kitchen. The very room she had claimed she hated the entire house in.

They paused by the entrance and Matty let himself lean against the door’s wooden beam, Squeak’s hand still holding his. Those antique cabinets looked the same as they had done a week prior, but the wash of colour seemed to illuminate under the setting sun that peered in through the old french doors.

“Could move about in here so freely.” Matty heard himself tease, voice soft though in hopes to not to break up the gentle moment. “Picture it. Making you pancakes on Mother’s day and helping Teds with his school work on the countertop there whilst we cook.”

Matty was surprised when Mouse was the one to shuffle on over towards the kitchen’s island, eyes mapping the vibrant fruit bowl and the cast-iron sink. 

He watched on as her gaze was drawn towards the back doors, to where another patio stretched far out on the other side. Slowly, he guided her closer to them, letting her get a feel for it all before he took the handle and opened them up, letting the light spring breeze flutter through. 

“Can you see it? A couple kids filling up the garden. Us standing here, or looking out that window there, to see Teddy laugh and smile while he darts about back and forth with a football or a kite.” Matty chuckled, already picturing it coming to life before his eyes, replacing the firepit in the back with a tyre swing and adding in a grill for him to man come summertime. “Could even get him a dog.”

Mouse shook her head even as they shared a smile.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Matty dragged his tongue across his teeth in hopes that it would dim the strength of his already too big grin. “And what’s that?”

“This, I get it.” Mouse replied, then she shrugged a single shoulder, “But it doesn’t change anything. The flats perfect for now, maybe soon we can look again and I might change my mind.” 

“You’re right stubborn you know that?” Matty acknowledged, because he’d hoped that by doing this, just them wandering through the empty property, that she might have been able to see what he saw. But still, he smiled down at her.

She widened her eyes mockingly in retort to that statement, forever used to hearing it. “Thought you’d’ve figured it out by now, rockstar.”

Matty simply hummed, feeling the slight breeze settle around them, rattling the metal wind chime which hung from one of the outside beams. He casted his sights out across the long patch of grass laid out before them and took a deep breath, mouth twitching ever so slightly. 

“You know, someday we’ll have to start making new memories.” He mentioned, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.

“I know.”

It was hard not to fall apart then, especially when her eyes trailed over to meet his nervous smile. She tilted her head at him, confused. And Matty figured he just had to get it over with before his legs soon gave out. 

“So why not some place like this?” He wondered, fingers tightening around the hand he still held in his as he rocked back and settled down on one knee.

She didn’t dare move. Staring down at him and the pretty red box he now held, so still Matty wasn’t even sure that she was breathing. 

“Are you serious?”

A chuckle escaped him at the ask and it was surprising because it sounded so genuine, even with the way his hand currently shook. “I reckon we could make a couple nice memories in a place like this. So, you just gonna let me kneel here or will you marry me?”

Mouse tried to keep the smile from off her face, eyes sparkling as she stared back at him, but in the end the battle was lost and Matty ended up mimicking the strength of it.

“Is that a yes then?”

She laughed, bright and loud, then tugged him up to wrap her arms around him. When she finally pulled away her eyes were wet but he didn’t think he’d ever witnessed her happier.

“Of course it is, you idiot.” She sniffed, capturing his jaw between her palms, and she stared at him so earnestly that it made Matty feel so utterly seen. “But it really does need a new lick of paint.”

Squeaks must’ve seen the evident confusion that crossed his face right then because she chuckled and gestured her head over towards the back door. “The house. If we’re planning on living here then I want it to feel like ours.”

At the realisation Matty laughed in disbelief and dipped down to rest his forehead against her own.

“I think I can manage that.”

“You better.” She quipped, pulling him in for a slow kiss before she was giggling to herself. Her eyes were bright and alive even as she narrowed them menacingly at him and prodded at his chest with a finger, “But don’t pull anything like this ever again, you hear?”

“What, propose?” 

She rolled her eyes at the question but that smile of hers was relentless.

“Yeah alright, I hear you.”

[mhsdatgo]

Do you think the show is biased against the Greens vs. Team Black? If so, how should the show have demonstrated that both teams are awful, in your opinion?

Hello anon!

I've got a lot to say on this one.

First of all, yes. I totally think that the show had some obvious kind of bias towards the Blacks. Not necessarily with the way the Greens were treated as devils with no likeable qualities except for Alicent (even if there are several instances of them doing so) but more because of the way the Blacks were whitewashed.

Rhaenyra.

Look, you'll never catch me not expressing my contempt for this woman, no matter the fact she was brought up by a man who did nothing but spoil, enable and indulge her in everything and anything she says and does. I can see the path they're taking in the show by adapting her as an irresponsible woman who flees at the minimal inconvenience and cowers to her dad at any minor inconvenience, but literally everything that makes her Rhaenyra Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen, is removed.

She just looks like the next girlboss Targ Dragonrider queen after Daenerys. They basically made GOT season 8 and sent show!Rhaenyra as an apology. But in doing so they basically made her... Boring. Her and her children, which I don't love or hate. (The closest one I am to "liking" is Jace, I guess, but the leaks are just making me rethink everything again.)

I would've loved it if they had given us ONE pre-Dance book!Rhaenyra scene that would've made her appear more ruthless than what we have on the show, and not just the time when she offered 10 year old Aemond to be tortured. Make her ask Daemon to go after Vaemond (sorry pookie) like she did in the books, make her feed his corpse to her dragon. Sure that wouldn't have made me change my mind about how much I dislike her bUt it WOULD'VE made me go "damn she stands on business."

I wanted her to act out of grief and insist on going to war when she miscarried Visenya and lost her father, because although I don't think that the Greens did kill that poor little girl (she had dragon features and was likely going to die anyway) I do think that Rhaenyra should've been allowed her pain and the irrational and impulsive thinking that comes with it.

Alicent.

OH BOY.

Where do I even begin with this one?

Olivia Cooke SLAYED. Lemme just start with that. She took the whole cake and ate it too and left no crumbs. The direction they've taken with her is a realistic one, at least for the actions and decisions she's taking. Reckless, for sure. Risky, deathly even. Her fear is realistic, even for someone as Alicent Hightower no matter how much determination had protected her from dread.

What I don't like is the way she was treated as everyone's object and her shutting up about it. From Rhaenyra to Larys, everyone uses her for their own disgusting pleasures or outlet of frustration. And she's made to take it without fighting back even once. The one time she does, bless her, she's treated as a woman who's gone mad.

Now, I would've been fine with her taking all these hits if only they knew how to make Alicent change properly and completely from there. If it was me, the incident at Driftmark would be my start to revenge. No longer would I look at Rhaenyra with hope to reconcile with her. No longer would I bear any more of Viserys' shit when it's clear his first daughter (the image of his first wife) bears way more importance to him than me and all the four kids he forced me to have combined.

They'd have to nightly talk me out of suffocating him with my pillow a minute more for every wince and ache my now eyeless son suffers, for a month straight if not more. I wouldn't eagerly stand by his side and listen to his last words only to mistake them for permission to go along with my plans. I'd stand there passively at best, waiting for him to be done, before leaving the room.

Everything else can just be left the same way it was. Her fear when she realizes the effect Viserys' death has on her and her children is realistic. I'd break down for a moment too. I'd act as soon as I could too. I'd cry tears of relief, dread, grief (depends on how you interpret that scene) too. After letting his stinky ass rot for a fortnight. I would've preferred this to be a "there was a plan, but we weren't ready to act it out" situation more than a "what the fuck is going on" situation.

I'd also slap that "you toil in service of other men" dialogue from Rhaenys right back in her face (sorry grandma) since if we're talking about the show, it's literally the only thing she has done throughout the season.

House Velaryon.

HEAVY on this one. They have been done so wrong on so many levels. Every single one of them.

Laena was made to "pursue" Daemon, she changes from a precious, small and shy little girl to a confident, seductive young woman (teenager for fuck's sake, screw everyone who thought making her change this way would've been good) and later on a side piece, "the one Daemon settles for because he can't have Rhaenyra" even if it was known that she was the only one he was never unfaithful to, "she's made her peace" (WTF???????).

It apparently never hits Corlys that the bitch who he believes has made him childless (I AM TALKING ABOUT DAEMON) deserves no support from him and his house or that Luke should actually become a ward there at Driftmark if he's so adamant on keeping this farce that he's a Velaryon and the next Lord of the Tides.

Vaemond is seen as the odd, evil and power hungry one for pointing out that his house is falling into an OBVIOUS bastard's hands whether this kid likes it or not (even as my support for this claim goes as far as questioning Luke's parentage) and to add insult to injury he's made to say Rhaenyra is a whore, which never happened in the books.

The Silent Five are removed completely, Vaemond's sons as well (@redrosesandcharmingsouls knows I was FROTHING at the mouth waiting for Daemion Velaryon to make an appearance but the motherfuckers couldn't even give me that) so that we don't have any kind of reason to believe an execution so brutal and unjust had any repercussions on the support House Velaryon has on the Blacks overall. They are made into Rhaenyra's cheering squad through and thorough, even if they have every reason to be anything but.

The Laenor situation is actually really fucking funny. They made him leave instead of killing him to not bury the gays and they aren't aware that this has totally fucked everything up. Like thanks for telling me ALL of Rhaenyra's children are bastards. Cool, HOW THE FUCK TO YOU HANDLE SEASMOKE NOW?

Aegon II.

No this isn't an apologist post. I'm actually slithering on the ground on my knees for TGC daily but Aegon is a clusterfuck right now, no matter how you look at it. They tell us he's a psycho drunken rapist and he likes to watch children fighting every Sunday and when you actually see his adult version he's a crying love starved bitch of a man and he winces and frowns when Vaemond's head is cut off.

Instead of taking the throne to protect his children, he takes it because he's forced. And that makes Alicent the villain in everything once again. Now it doesn't matter if you look at the book version or what we see of the show version, everywhere you look this is just out of character.

It's inconsistent. He's made the worst thing ever so people can say "See??? They believe a rapist is better to put to the throne than our girlboss virtuous heir!!!" you either make him a psycho or a touch starved baby, why make both?

So yeah, I think this is all. For now. We'll have to see how this show progresses to see if I change my mind in any way.

Thanks for the ask!!!! ^_^

[nowoyas]

koi no yokan 31: standoff (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list 1-30 - M.list 30-60 - Ao3

A/N: so this got posted to ao3 at like midnight but I was very tired and needed to make the new masterlist for koiny 30-60 so I'm only now crossposting it. please enjoy. hold my hand if necessary.

Summary: You're having a rough week, but don't worry! Things can always get worse!

Warnings and Tags: very heavily-implied self harm

Words: ~3000

Asuka makes you wait.

You hang out in the classroom for five minutes, the hallway for another ten. You're starting to think he might have forgotten that he needed to ask you about his science shit, but you also haven't seen him anywhere, so as a last ditch effort before you run on to practice, you poke your head into his classroom and find him mid-dealing with cleaning duties.

Ah. That explains it. He must have forgotten he had them.

At the sight of you, he looks a little surprised, but waves with a smile once he's regained his composure. You wave back at him, though your hand is occupied with the notebook he needs.

"[surname]-san. Where's your guard dog?" Asuka asks as you cross the room to him.

You wince. "Uh, I don't know. Probably getting ready for practice. I'm sorry about him."

He shrugs. "Boyfriends tend not to like me. It's fine."

"He's not my boyfriend," you reply immediately. "He's just a friend, and I have now talked to him about not trying to chase off my other friends. You wanted to see my science notes, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. Can you wait until I finish cleaning? Don't wanna leave Wada-san to handle it by himself." He nods to his classmate. You nod and lean against the doorway, feeling your stomach churn. You watch them work, and when they're done, Asuka beelines for you, waving off his friend.

"Thanks for waiting. And for coming. I've got baseball right after this, so maybe I could just take some pics of your notes and get your number if I've got questions?"

Oh, what the hell. He's harmless, weird new tension with Noya aside. "Sure, give me your phone."

"Does that guy know he's not your boyfriend? Because that wasn't the impression I was getting from him."

"I've told him before. I don't usually mind it when he chases people off because it's usually, like, random strangers in public who won't take a hint if it's me telling them I'm not interested, but I mean, come on. There's obviously a difference between 'chasing off a random stranger' and 'chasing off a friend of mine he doesn't know', and like, I know he's going through shit right now? But the way he acted today pissed me off."

"Sucks that he doesn't respect you enough to check with you first. Why bother hanging around him at all at that point?"

The guilt lightning-strikes you in that moment. "He's my best friend. I'm not gonna drop him just because he overstepped a little."

Asuka shrugs. "Sure, but be nice to yourself, at least."

"I should go," you blurt. "Club stuff. Text me if you have any questions or anything."

You rush out. By the time you've reached the girls' changing room to get ready for practice, both Yachi and Shimizu have already changed out and headed to the gym—their uniforms are in their cubbies. It gives you a moment to breathe, a moment to let it set in.

Noya doesn't need this right now. The club doesn't need you right now. But, well—

You promised Yachi the two of you would work hard together. That means something, at least. You rub at your eyes furiously, hard enough to hurt a little, and get changed.

When you arrive at practice, the guys are just finishing up their warmup stretches. You issue a breathless apology to the girls.

"Are you okay?" Shimizu asks in reply.

You force a practiced smile. "Oh, I'm alright. That concoction I told you about this morning just made me feel a little sick, is all."

An easy lie. Always so easy, when it isn't Noya. You keep pretending everything's easy for the rest of practice, but you're pretty sure Noya is avoiding you, now, and when you seek him out at the start of individual practice—

"Hey, I'm gonna have to cancel tonight," he says by way of greeting. "You probably need more time to prepare if you're gonna teach me to cook anyway, right?"

"Oh." Just, oh. You're not sure what else to say.

"I just think I should probably head home today once practice is over. You know, with everything going on."

A million responses race through your head, a million follow-ups.

I'm sorry.

Do you want me to help you work on that set?

Please forgive me.

Take care of yourself.

Are you doing okay?

Please don't leave me.

I'm sorry.

"Okay," you say. It takes you too long to realize that you should say something else here. "See you later?"

He nods, distracted. Runs off, shouting for Tanaka to hit some of his tosses.

You spend half an hour in the girls' changing room trying to recover. When you get home, any panic attacks you have while posted up by the window, waiting to make sure he gets home safe, are between you and the altar to your mom. Such is life.

~

It's sort of amazing how little time fixes anything. Noya doesn't walk with you to school the next morning. You show up late again, having waited for him, only to find him already there, warmed up, pushing himself too, too hard. When breaks come, he heads towards Yachi or Shimizu—obviously preferring the latter about three to one—for a water bottle, a towel, anything to not talk to you. Lunchtime finds you hiding from the world and barely eating two bites.

The week drags forward, and you with it.

The next day is much of the same, except Asuka finds you while you're debating on where to hide that day, so you Don't Eat Lunch with him instead of alone. Most of your energy goes towards pretending to be okay.

Unlike everyone else, he's happy to pretend he believes you.

Everyone else, in this case, has taken to asking you what's up with Noya, what's up with you, why aren't you guys talking, what happened. If one more person offers to knock some sense into him for you, you're going to break their leg or your wrist or both.

It's not your place to apologize. Asuka keeps telling you as much, too—Noya's the one who overstepped boundaries, Noya's the one turning this into a whole event when he could have just apologized and not done it again. Asuka's also the only one beside Noya who knows what's going on, assuming Noya hasn't told anyone. You're pretty sure he hasn't, because you keep getting questions, including—worst of all—texts from Rina. She wants to know the next time you're coming over for dinner.

You read the notifications, swipe them away. Don't open the messages, never reply.

At least it's Saturday. At least your dad's coming home early tonight.

You'd left practice a little early to make a nice dinner and avoid Noya, and the solitude while you cook isn't a comfort, but at least you can steep in anxiety about how dinner with your dad's gonna go. It'll be a refreshing change of pace from everything else.

Cooking gives you a lot of time to think. Usually, you like to use the time for some light studying—a notebook propped open somewhere in the room, you'll talk under your breath and go over whatever the day's content was, check it against your notes—but you can't handle that today. Instead, you're thinking about—what else? Noya.

The thing is, Asuka's right. You're not the one who needs to apologize. You do deserve better than being made to apologize for someone else's overstep. It's not fair to you to get the silent treatment for telling your friend not to chase off your other friends, let alone when you really don't have that many to begin with.

But… you miss Noya. You miss him desperately. Fifteen times this week, you've caught yourself just before texting Noya a request for a Soba picture. Many more times than that, you've studiously paged through every Soba you've saved—every Soba you've received—in hopes of feeling a little better, but then you inevitably think about Noya and get upset all over again.

(It might help if you had a separate folder for Soba pictures and Soba selfies so you didn't have to look at his stupid face and frequently bare chest while searching for comfort.)

Other statistics of note: in the four days since you entered this standoff, you've grown 30% more reckless on average, slept about two hours less a night, become completely unable to focus in class, and accumulated seven new injuries to your hands and arms from "carelessness".

The knife slips as you're making dinner. Eight new injuries to hands and arms from "carelessness".

Part of you wants to leave the new injury bleeding. Part of you knows you should clean it up immediately—good first aid practice and all that. You stand there and stare probably for too long, dripping blood onto the cutting board, before remembering that your father has to eat this dinner, too. That's about the only thing that makes you slap a glove over it and get back to work.

Your father, to his credit, comes home at the time he told you he would. Just in time, too—dinner's ready. It actually starts off really nice—he compliments your cooking, tells you a little bit about workplace gossip. He seems to be dancing around something, but then, towards the end of the meal—

"How's school?"

"Um," you start, voice wavering. "My studies are going well, I think. It's sort of an easy month in general, but midterms are next month, so it's not like I can sit back and relax. I just wish I could get my brain back from the concussion. It's finally starting to get back to normal, but I'm having trouble focusing."

"And that club of yours?"

You shrug. "It's fine."

Silence. When you look up, he's looking at you like he's trying to solve a problem.

"What?"

"Few weeks ago, you couldn't help but talk my ear off about those boys, and suddenly it's fine?"

Holy fuck your dad actually noticed something was wrong with you. It's actually that bad.

"Everything alright with that boy you're dating?"

"We're not," you say too quickly. "Um, dating, I mean. We… we never were dating."

"What, really? You two were all over each other when I met him."

"We're just friends. But we, um, we haven't been talking recently, and I—" Your voice cracks, and with it, your composure. "—I think he should be the one to apologize to me, but he's not, and I know he's going through a lot with his family right now and I want to be there for him, but I—he—he was really rude to a friend of mine and I told him to back off and now he's not talking to me and he's obviously avoiding me but—"

Your father sighs. "It sounds like he's jealous of your friend."

"He's jealous of everyone unless he knows they're not a threat. But even if—even if Asuka-san were a threat, and I'm not saying he's not, that doesn't give him the right to tell me who my friends are!"

"Right." He nods. "Is this boy that important to you?"

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. "He's my best friend. I—I don't want to lose him. More than anything, I don't want to lose him."

A long sigh. "Your mother said something like that to me, once."

"Huh?"

He laughs, a faraway look in his eyes. "Right before we got together. She told me that she liked me so much that she was afraid to ever date me because she couldn't handle it if she lost me."

"Do you regret being with her?"

"Me?" He blinks. "Absolutely not. I'd marry her again in a heartbeat."

"Even though it wrecked you when she… when she died?"

"Honey. Of course I don't regret it. We got you, didn't we? And the time I had with her was happy."

You look at him—really look at him. He's haggard. His face has aged so much in the past two years that he looks permanently exhausted, skin gray. He's barely been able to stand being in this house since your mom died. In the early days, when you managed to drag yourself out of bed, even before you could make yourself talk again after the incident, you recall having to drag him out of bed, having to make sure he ate. Sometimes you think he never really left that bed.

Another loss like that will kill you. Not worth the risk.

"I think it's probably time that I pick myself up from her loss, actually," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She always told me to move on if I ever lost her. There's this gorgeous woman at work, and maybe… I don't know. Do you think it's too soon?"

"I don't really think that's my decision to make," you reply quietly.

You finish eating not long after. He helps you get the dishes cleaned, helps you pack away a lunch for practice tomorrow. You head up to your room early—gotta study, you know? Thank you for coming home—and dig your nails into the new cut on your hand, gasping for air.

He can move on without you. That's fine. They all can.

~

What gets you isn't that Noya's distanced himself from you. I mean, that hurts like a fucking bitch, but the part that gets you the most is that you keep convincing yourself that he's fine with it. His play hasn't suffered at all—a few more bruises, maybe, a bit quieter, but you keep the statistics. You know he's playing just as effectively as usual, if not a little better.

You could start dating someone else right now, and he probably wouldn't even notice. As it is, he doesn't seem to care that you're utterly miserable. You almost didn't show up today at all, but if you'd stayed home, you'd have to spend time with your dad, and you can't stop thinking about him replacing your mom, and you don't want to take a potential happiness from him.

As much as you're trying your best, as much as you're forcing smiles and pretending to be okay, you can't fucking take it anymore. The thing that makes you snap is so stupid, so innocuous. He just asks Shimizu if she wants help carrying something. It means nothing. Nothing at all, but you can't fucking be here anymore.

"My head hurts," you snap towards Yachi. She jolts a little at your tone. "I think I'm gonna head out early."

"Oh—okay. Are you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. Just another damn concussion headache. Don't worry about me, okay?"

"Well, okay…"

She lets you go. No one else notices you leave, it doesn't seem. Fine enough. For the first time in a while, you genuinely want to be alone. You consider taking a walk to the nearby park, staying out until some cop makes you go home. Maybe going for a run until you throw up, or finding someone to get in a fight with. Satsuki should be on Noya's side in all this; maybe she'll give you a black eye to ground you for a little bit.

Of course, because you're so desperate to be alone, you hear a call of your name on the way out the school gate. You could set your clock by it—Asuka, running up to you with his usual boyish smile at the worst timing possible.

"Hey, fancy running into you here!"

"Hey, Asuka-san. Sorry, I've got a bit of a headache, so I'm actually heading home—"

"Hey, no problem. I just wanted to ask you real quick, while I've got you."

Your heart drops into your stomach. You've got a bad feeling about this. "What is it?"

"I can't keep pretending like you're not absolutely gorgeous and smart and fun. I know things have been rough for you lately, but can I make it a little better? Will you be my girlfriend?"

The human brain is an amazing thing. Have you ever really thought about that? You pick up a bag or a book or something else, and your brain does a million silent calculations to tell your arm how much force to use to lift it based on how it feels in your hand. You swish a can of soda, and based on the way the liquids inside feel, your brain instinctively can just tell about how much is left inside without any visual feedback. All the things your body can do without having to consciously think about it—human language, manipulating a pen to write a communicable message, fucking walking.

A million calculations must have happened without even thinking about it. Later, you sit down, try to reverse-engineer what led to your answer. You end up with something along these lines:

No

Asuka is just a casual friend (this is better—it won't hurt as much to lose him)

Asuka isn't exactly your type (but maybe you just need to warm up to him and give him a chance)

You're not really looking to date right now (you're not explicitly off the market)

████████████ ⁴⁵

Saying yes would be insanely self-destructive (you need to self-destruct right now)

Yes

No good reason to say no.

45. This item on the list was written, then crossed out so hard that it tore through the paper you were thinking on. It would take some sort of magic to know what had been written here.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[probably-writing-x]

Curtains Closed - Part 3

Summary:

Warnings: I dont thinkkk there's anything, just hella fluff

Author's Note: Your wish is my command... I hope this doesn't disappoint <3 Thank you for all of the love on curtains closed, it has been so fun to write !!

A year today. A whole year had passed. You'd shot and released a film, won an Oscar, got a new apartment in New York, released your own makeup brand, and were now in the audition process for a new film you were hoping to get. An entire year of your life, the highs lows and the inbetweens - all of it without Drew.

Since the Vanity Fair party, the two of you hadn't spoken. It was a relief to realise he wasn't dating Emily, but it didn't change anything else. You weren't ready to date him again without feeling that same jealousy and distrust that had driven you apart in the first place. You needed to know that if you got together again, it would stick.

"I don't know what to wear," You groan to Madelyn over facetime, holding up two outfit options, "They haven't told me anything."

"Just wear something comfortable," She encourages, "They're going to be more concerned about having Academy Award Winner (Y/N) (Y/L/N) in their film than about what you're wearing."

"I don't know why I'm so nervous, I just have a terrible feeling about this," You groan, pulling the black pair of leggings over your thighs.

Today you had a chemistry read with the person who would be possibly playing your love interest in the film, meaning the casting directors had to make sure that you would be a convincing fit for the roles. The last time you'd had a love interest of any kind on screen, it was Drew.

"Alright, I think this is okay," You take a deep breath, fixing the bottom of your oversized sweatshirt over your waist, "I need to down a coffee and then I need to go."

~~~

You arrive at the audition with a minute to spare, hurrying through the door with a glimmer of sweat breaking through your light makeup.

"God, I'm not late am I?" You wince at the girl on reception.

She smiles and shakes her head, "Don't worry, you're all good. And I'm pretty sure they would wait for you anyway."

You take a deep breath, "Is the guy already here?"

She looks at you with a frown between her brows, "They haven't told you who you're reading with?"

You stare at her for a second, a little taken aback, "Why? Should I be concerned?"

As if on cue, the two of you reach the door to the audition room and she opens it for you to go through.

This is the feeling, isn't it? That feeling of your words dropping from your throat, your heart dropping out of your chest, colliding with the butterflies that are now on a rampage inside your stomach.

"Drew."

He is still every part of him. Tall, shoulders broad, bright eyes, the defined structure of his face, hair growing out longer than the last time you'd seen him, messy and perfect around his face.

"I didn't know you'd-"

"Be here," He finishes your sentence for you, "Yeah, me neither."

You can tell by the slight breathlessness in his voice; he'd lost all of his words too.

"Is everything okay guys?" The casting director frowns and both of you whip your heads around to look at her and the rest of the panel, like you'd both just been caught in the act.

Drew's eyes turn back to you almost as quickly as they'd left. You blink a couple of times at the table of people waiting for you, trying to draw yourself back to some level of professional reality, "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Alright, are you two ready to start with the scene?"

No. Not a single part of you was ready.

"Of course," You force a smile, one that you had gotten used to faking.

"Yeah, of course," Drew must be good at faking too.

~~~

"I don't know who you think you are, but this isn't you, this isn't us," You read the line aloud, trying with everything you could to draw yourself away from your own body and into the character.

"And what is us anymore?" Drew responds, his eyes hunting for yours.

You look up at him and see the emotion behind him, the vision of him and the character seemingly blurring into one in front of you, "Maybe there isn't an us, maybe that's the problem."

He swallows the lump in his throat, dropping his arm from where it had been gripping onto the script, letting it rest aimlessly in his hand - now that his eyes have latched onto yours, he's sure that is all he needs;

"I'm not ready to give this up. Not now. I don't care how long that takes, I don't care if I'm waiting up every night for the next time you're next to me in bed, I don't care how far I have to go, I'm not losing you. This, whatever you want to call it, it's not ever going to be worth losing," There's a quiver in his voice, "I regret it all, I do. Every single bit of it that made me lose you. And I'll work every day to change that, but I need you there with me, for it all."

Your character is meant to speak, but there are tears in your eyes and an unknown certainty that he was speaking to you and not to the words you were supposed to return with.

"I don't care how long it takes for me to convince you to believe me again," Drew shakes his head, "I love you, (Y/N)."

You watch his cheeks flush red at that almost instantly, his mouth opening and shutting to try and find the words.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He scratches at the back of his neck, looking at the script again as he fumbles over the paper in his hands, "Nessa, I meant Nessa."

The main casting director clasps her hands together, "Don't worry about it Drew, that's what multiple takes are for anyway," She laughs.

Your eyes haven't left him yet, as he turns his head to look at the crew all with their attention on the pair of you.

"I think we've seen all we need to see from the two of you today, thank you for coming in," She continues, "(Y/N), is everything okay?"

Your eyes are still brimming with tears, and it takes you longer than it should to turn to her and try to respond through the bubbling emotion in your throat, "Yes."

~~~

It feels like an air of reality hits you as soon as you step outside of the building, onto the harsh normality of the New York streets.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't know you'd be here," Drew comments, dragging a hand through his hair, "I would've at least warned you if I knew."

"Did you mean it?" You cut in through his words, your voice still shaky like the tremble in your hands.

"Did I-"

"Did you mean it? Were you talking to me or the character?"

His eyes find you and yours are on him, and it feels like you're seeing each other for the first time in twelve months. You see it all in that moment. The way he'd kissed you, the way his hands always found perfect position on your curves, the way he knew your words before you spoke, knew your memories before you'd made them. The way he'd held your heart and promised to keep it. And, in that moment, you realised he'd never broken that promise - you'd taken it from him.

"(Y/N) I-" He breaks the silence, letting out a quivering breath, "It's you, it's always you."

You're sure your heart swells in that moment, the moment where fireworks explode around the soulmates in the film, the moment you know it's forever.

"What are you doing right now? Do you have plans?" You ask quickly, fighting to not stumble over your words.

"No, um, nothing," He clears his throat, "Nothing."

"How does coffee sound?"

You're taken back to two years ago, the two of you young and foolish on set together, playing two characters that were stumbling over themselves to fall in love. The way you'd felt exactly the same for Drew as you had for his character then. But those characters weren't going to last - they were naïve and it was all passion and misplaced love. These two characters were different. They'd aged and broken their own hearts, learnt more about themselves than they'd ever let someone see before. And that, this, was the thing that lasted.

"Coffee sounds great," Drew nods, "Something tells me we've got a lot to catch up on."

You shrug your shoulders and let the inevitable smile break its way onto your features, "Oh, you know, just the usual."

[niiine]

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑

Character(s). Xiao x GN!Reader, Lumine, mentions of Yanfei.

Synopsis. Lumine never like meddling with other people’s  business if they don’t want her to, much less their relationship, but this time, Xiao left her no choice.

Mild Angst & Fluff

Lumine is reader’s close friend 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 come on she can’t always be the one that the reader is jealous of

NOT PROOFREAD, please don’t expect.

Ending sucks because it’s me. I can’t write endings ffs.

Got the idea when I’m re-watching the chasm scene where Zhongli saves Xiao’s life. My (our) hubby looks so fine tryna save everyone sacrificing himself 😳

“They're gonna kill you.” Traveler’s voice earned a wince from the yaksha who are still trying to walk straight after the incident in the chasm. They’ve been stuck for days, if not a whole week, inside the tremendous place and the final act really did took a toll on his body.

He let out a barely audible tsk as Lumine guided his form to sit somewhere comfortable. Only when he’s settled that he voiced out his concern.

“Please don’t tell her” his golden eyes look anywhere but hers, knowing that she had that judgmental stare decorating her small face. “No.”

Her sharp refusal made Xiao snap his gaze onto her, he didn’t hear her right, right? But the looks on her face tells him otherwise. “But they’re going to feel bad about this” he gritted his teeth like a kid, and his companion is reminded how much the Adeptus in front of her loves you so much to the point that making you sad is one of the last things he’ll do.

But if he really wants you to be happy, he must learn how to take care of his self as well.

“Yes. And it’s your fault,” sometimes the traveler’s bluntness hit a certain painful spot.

“So, I’m going to tell them that you almost sacrifice yourself again despite promising that you’ll be careful every.single.time.” The blonde made sure to emphasize her points, and although Xiao appreciate her concern for you, he just doesn’t want to see you crying because he messed up again.

“I’ll let her know myself then” he tried to argue, hoping that he can at least make a little bit more nice in the ears, but Lumine knows that he’ll hide certain facts to protect your feelings—don’t get it wrong, she loves you so much that she also doesn’t want to hurt you, but she’s aware how broken hearted you’ll be if Xiao keeps doing this to himself— so she will do this herself.

“And I will also let her know. You can’t keep hurting yourself without thinking of their feelings, Xiao. What if something happened to you for real? Don’t you know that it’ll send her to an even deeper despair?” Once again, she reprimanded the man, because aside from being your friend she treasures, he also is a dear companion to her.

“I’m gonna tell (name), and you’re gonna listen to everything she says” She huffed, preparing in her mind what to tell you as too keep the damage and worry on minimum. Although all her thoughts left her when she heard Paimon gasped and your sweet voice fill both hers and Xiao’s ears.

Yanfei came across you and told you the whereabouts of your boyfriend, making it easier to find your beloved.

“Tell me what?” Ahh, Xiao missed that sound so much.

“Love,” the green haired adeptus proceeds to reach out to you as far as his damaged body can do, distress and concern flooded your eyes as you run towards him, gentle finger scanning his battered form.

“What happened?” as much as he can’t stand to hear the uneasiness laced on your voice, he also can’t help but to succumb on your touches. He missed you so dearly. Receiving no response from your lover, you turned your head towards your friend, who’s already looking at you.

“And you, too! You look so pale and weak…” You noticed how frail the two of them look and a sob escaped your lips, you were about to speak again when Lumine beat you to it. Saying that she’s fine, and then proceeds to tell you everything that happened. After her explanation, Lumine offered to teleport you and Xiao in the Wangshuu Inn where he can rest comfortably. After bidding her farewell, with a bit of light scolding from you, you then turned towards Xiao who are currently draped in your shared bed, he’s not looking at you direct in the eyes, almost ashamed of what he had done.

“I’m sor—”

“I can’t stand this.”

His golden orbs darted into yours, swirling emotions forming into heavy heartbeat as his chest tightens at your words. No, please don’t say you’ll leave.

“(Name)” he tried to stand up to reach you out, but his body failed him. “I have told you before, Xiao” no, please don’t call him that. Where’s the usual Love? or Dearest? Or Beloved?

His crestfallen face stares at you pleadingly, and on normal occasions, you have give in. But you don’t want him to abuse his self anymore, and if you don’t want him to keep tormenting the both of you, then you must prevail.

“I can stand you being unromantic, or cold from time to time, I understand that you’re not a mortal who do silly things. But heavens, I can’t take it if you’re putting yourself in danger every time.”

He noticed how your eyes glistens from the tears, but his heart breaks at the sight of you standing so far away from him, reminding him that he’s the reason you’re unreachable sometimes.

Mustering all the remaining strength he has, he tried to stand up once again, he can’t have you going farther. His digits caressed your cheeks, and your eyes look up at him, turbulent storms raging at his touch.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise. Please don’t leave me.”

“You better don’t. Because I hate thinking that I’m not important for you to throw yourself like that,” you sobbed against his chest “I love you, Xiao. I don’t know what I’ll do if I ever lose you.”

He kissed your forehead, whispering his own affirmations. Archons, he really doesn’t like seeing you like this.

[mamawasatesttube]

The 13 "you're safe, I promise" with Lois and Kon.... 👀

Kon can't breathe.

Well—that's fine. He's Kryptonian. He doesn't need to breathe, anyway. And besides, he can breathe. Kinda. He just can't do it very well, but that's fine. He's fine. It's fine. He doesn't really need to breathe. It's fine.

Boiling water splashes over the rim of the mug all over his hand; it doesn't really hurt, but he still hisses and jerks the kettle away on impulse. Shit. He's supposed to be making a cup of tea, not spilling hot water all over the kitchen—

"Conner?"

Fuck.

"Oh, hi there, Lois!" Act natural! Act natural! Is leaning on the counter and crossing his arms acting too natural? Is there such a thing as acting too natural? "Didn't, uh, see you there! What brings you to this fine establishment? ...Kitchen? ...Room? At this hour of night?"

Lois, standing in the doorway, raises an eyebrow. "You have superhearing."

Kon snorts. The flutter of anxiety in his chest swells. "Well, that doesn't mean I always use it. C'mon, you know I'm dumb as a rock, Lo."

"Right. And I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed."

Lois steps into the kitchen properly. Kon watches, horrified, as her eyes fall to his hand and the mug and all the spilt water; she's going to know something is wrong, but—nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. There's nothing to know. But she's going to know anyway.

The worst part is, since it's Lois, she'll know exactly what's up even if he cleans it all up with superspeed. The sudden movement will catch her eye. The subtle changes in the environment. She knows what it looks like.

"Conner," Lois says, and Kon knows the jig is up. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing!" Kon nudges the mug away from the edge of the counter. Steaming water sloshes over the side onto his hand again; Lois winces, but Kon just wipes it on his shirt, not caring. "I just, uh... you know. Nothing. I'm chill. Cooler than ice cold. You know."

Lois gives him a look. Kon resists the urge to bury his face in his hands.

...His hands. They're shaking.

"Hey."

Lois, apparently, notices that too, because she steps closer, and then she's holding his hands in both of hers, her thumbs rubbing gently over his knuckles. Her hands are so much smaller than his, so delicate, and yet... it's kind of nice.

"It's okay, squirt," she says, her voice gentler. "Talk to me. Something's clearly eating you. Everything alright?"

Kon looks away, at the kettle sitting on the stovetop, and feels shame twist in his gut. "I... yeah, everything's fine. Just... you know. Nightmare, that's all."

Lois's face softens even further. It's not an expression Kon is really used to seeing on her; everything about her is usually sharp, sharp, sharp. But she's nothing but kind as she squeezes his hands. "Oh, kiddo. Wanna talk about it?"

Kon laughs against the tightness in his chest. "I mean, you know, it was nothing special, just—you remember that whole thing where I died once, so... yeah! What else is there to say?"

He tries to laugh again, but the memory of the dust and smoke clogs his chest, and it dies in his throat. Fuck. Everything still feels shaky and unsteady and—

Lois pulls him into her arms.

She's a full head shorter than him, and her frame is much more slight, and there's no way she should logically be able to offer him nearly as much solace as she is, and for a heartbeat Kon is completely, utterly frozen in her embrace—

And then she rubs his back with a firm hand and murmurs, "You're safe, kiddo. I promise."

—and time begins to move again.

Kon squeezes his eyes shut and slowly, slowly sinks against her, his hands coming up to rest tentatively against her back. Her heartbeat is loud, steady, and slow in his ears, and the rush of blood through her veins is a steady white noise to drown out his memories.

He takes a breath.

"That's it," Lois encourages, and rubs his back again. "You're okay. You're okay."

Kon lowers his head to tuck his face into her hair. He should feel ashamed, and he knows he will later, but right now, the comfort is overwhelming enough to banish all those thoughts from his mind, and he just... stays.

"Thanks, Lois," he mumbles, finally, several seconds later, when he can bring himself to withdraw.

Lois pats his shoulder, smiling. "Hey, don't sweat it. Anytime. After all," she says, "What else is family for?"

Then she turns to add milk and sugar to his tea, just the way he likes it, and he thinks he can breathe a little easier after all.

[maryonmega]

Twin Stars - Chapter 5

A new thing (is it a good thing?)

{{Ah, Stars, I dropped I dropped my self control. The original chapter was posted on my birthday, the little self indulgence (Isafrin) was my gift to myself.

Speaking of Isafrin, CW for internalized acephobia and a little bit of sugestive writting.}}

You brace yourself for the next period of time. Going through the moves without Loop makes you nervous, makes it possible to contradict each other. It's fine, you're fine, you'll just have to catch it up when you two have alone time to "tell about the loops". Stars, you're being sneaky again. You might try and justify with it not being just about you all you want, but it's the truth.

Your group meet up in the dining area, and you let the smell of different foods sooth your nerves. Another way that you're weird. You've been out for over a month, made camp that were small and your tent wouldn't block the smells, yet it seens like the confort that this particular thing won't fade anytime soon. You don't like the origin, but you do like Bonbon's eyes when you happily sniff what they prepare.

Tho, this time, it's not Bonbon food. Not that it's disappointing on it's own, you just think they could use the quick fix, too. After all, you're pretty much toeing the northwest and north separation. If everything goes right, they'll see their sister again in two days. Maybe even tomorrow night, depending of the group's mood.

You're not surprised when they're the first one to talk, either. Not to you, but to Odile. You're too busy noticing their pineapple juice and thinking that maybe you should tell about that.

"Where's Sisy? It's not good to skip meals."

Oh, that got you off guard!

"Sisy, Bonnie?"

"Yes. Phus sounds dumb."

You just nod to the irrefutable argument while Odile puts her plate down carefully to not topple over the crushed boiled eggs. "Sisyphus is already in bed and I don't think they're waking up anytime soon."

"They're tired to the very soul."

You realise a second too late that it came from you. A saving throw! Now!

"I don't remenber a lot from traveling alone, but it's exausting when you only have what fits your pockets. Then we met again but still have problems with our memory. It's weird, it's like... " You think about acts and shudder. No, not going there "Like reading a story skipping random chapters."

Odile eyes you over her dinner, but decides to eat in silence. You feel a mix of relief and horror.

You see resident bookworm Mirabelle wince in pain at the idea. Just because you're a bit rusty pun wise doesn't mean you can't make funny moments happen.

Is it weird? To be lingering in their present the day you're supposed to have met with long lost family, a vague yet sweet sensation on your chest? Maybe not. No one in your little circle is unfamiliar with coping with abnormal situations by trying to act like things are normal. Specially you, as your eyepatch won't let them forget. Would that benefit you, right now, tho?

"... But, if coconuts have hair and milk, aren't they mammals?"

Stars, how long did you stay stuck in your head?! Not good, not fair. You really need to train out this bad habbit.

"I hope not, that would be nuts."

"That was lame even for you."

Hm, maybe acting as normal is not just you. Good? You dig into your memory to try and be sure. It's hard, it gets frustrating, but you're almost sure that something like that happened around the time Bonnie joined. Not quite like that, you all had to nurse them back to health, after all, but you did try to put on an image of normalcy, didn't you?

Stars, with everything that gets lost in the way, it's like a miracle that you didn't forget their names.

One thing that sticks out is when Mira cuts the casual air in the table in a way very reminiscent of her speech in the sleepovers, before... Well, before you torn the script to shreds because you felt like they were messing it up.

(Bonnie was right, you were being quite stupid)

It's not about walking out this time, it's about the elephant in the room that you were trying to avoid for so long: everyone hoped that Bonnie's assumption was right, but there was always the possibility that taking them with you wouldn't happen.

The others join in to present ways you can stay connected, even if not traveling together, but Mirabelle os still at the center. She doesn't look nervous when she smiles at Bonbon and says that she wants to see them grow up and become taller than herself.

You want, too. You want to see if their dream of having a restaurant will stick. How handsome they'll be and how far they'll let those unpolished smarts take them. If they'll settle for good or still carry that drop of wanderlust. What type of person they'll befriend beside all of you, if they'll one day date, get bonded, or go through the realisation Mira is yet to right now.

But Mirabelle is the one that puts those thoughts into words that won't pratonize them too much. If Mira was better by the end of your journey, medicated she was like a goddess.

You all go back to your rooms after the meal. It has been quite a full day, after all.

You and Isabeau change into your night clothes with your backs to each other, only getting in bed after both are confirmed ready. Isa rolls to his side by the wall, and you pull the sheets up to your nose so your smirk won't betray the fake annoyance.

"You didn't even call dibs this time."

"I already took it, you'll have to live with that."

You mock scoff, and hear a softer laught than usual (maybe because it wasn't as funny, maybe because he's tired too). You let your body and face relax, and, before your dumb brain has a chance to overthink, you get your hand out of the sheets and almost into Isabeau's personal space. He places his hand on yours, and it's soothing. 

There's still a lot of thoughts to sort out, some including him, some not, but, right now, the contact is soothing. You want to close the gap and bury your face in his chest, to give him a kiss, like you itched to do so a few times but froze before you could (rich of you to call anyone a coward, Siffrin). But the objective is to sleep, and going further than hand holding still can be overwhelming. Maybe it's not just with you, by the way a darker shade crept all the way down his throat.

It's odd, to have at the same time limited time and more than you could hope for before. One month feels like so long and so little at the same time. You're not sure what really would count as slow, or would cross the line to too slow. You're thankful that Isa is a patiente man.

Is that enough, though? Even before your rough talk, he hasn't pushed, hasn't rushed. You haven't returned fairly. You haven't been fully honest with him.

You're vaguely aware of Loop in the room next door, and that's oddly motivating. Gross. Doing the right thing isn't enough motivation, you need wanting to avoid being confronted about not doing it as an extra push.

...

You know the way he's looking at you now. You know he noticed your shift in mood.

You open your mouth before he can.

"Isa?"

"Sif?"

"There's... Something I haven't told you." Wow, how specific, don't you want to broad a bit more? "Remenber when you asked if I love you the same way you love me?"

"Of course. What about it?" His tone is so soft, but the worry is clear. Of course it is. You are about to give bad news.

"I-I don't think I can." You gently squeeze his hand and hope it draws attention to them "I'm fine with this, and hugging. I'm almost sure I'm fine with kissing, too, but..." Just say it. You could say it to Mira, say it to him. Stop leading him on "I can't... do things past that. I don't think I ever will."

You can't look him in the eye. That phrasing felt like an understatement. The thought of hands on your skin with that kind of intent makes it crawl. The thought of taking him in such a way makes you shudder. The thought of him taking you like that is terrifying.

You feel a gentle caress over your knuckles, and that brings you back to reality. In this moment, you wish hope that he thinks the shudder was nerves. You gave him the info, it's up to him what he does with it. You don't get to think things of what chooses.

"That's the thing?" You nod. "Then it's fine."

What?

"What?" You look at him. You can't quite read his expression, but you do know it's not any less found.

"Are-are you sure?"

He's still caressing your hand. There a warmt in your stomach, but not a bad one.

"Sif. Sifarooni. Siffrin. What I meant was if you love me romantically"

"I know, but- isn't that part of being a couple?"

He looks pensative. Maybe this time it finally sunk in. You wonder if you still can hold hands as friends, and smother that thought as soon as it comes to light. That is Isa's choice to make.

"It can be, but doesnt have to. I'm fine with not being."

You're not so sure.

"Are you not going to miss it, though?"

"Siffrin," no nicknames. Bad sign? "think for a minute. Untill the day before I confessed, I was sure you hated touch, but still wanted a relationship with you. If I can live with no touch at all, I can live with no sex."

... How in the Universe can he say the word so easy?

Not the point here, Siffrin!

"Will you miss it?"

"A bit, but it's nothing unhandleable. I'm fine just being with you."

Your face feels hot. Your eye stings. There's still the chance of being too much, but the craving is stronger. You crawl a bit closer, and get your other arm out. Isa gets the memo, and puts his arm around you, slowly, giving you a chance to pull back. It makes your belly feel warmer. You want this to last, and that allows you to smother the question of how he would "handle" it with the same mental wet towel.

"Then, I think I do love you."

~★~

Sunlight brings a dull ache to your head. You protect your eyes with your hand and blink a lot before sitting up and getting your hair out of your face - oh, right, you're sharing a room with the Researcher. 

You slip out of the bed and change back into your awake clothes, with that sleeveless turtleneck that you haven't had for so long but already is kind of attached. You know Stardust wouldn't dare (the reason is not the point, the point is that you do). It is blinded that you have to put on the effort, you were there first, but clearly it doesn't matter to whoever is the author of your life, so it falls on you the burden of showing that you're not just another one, regardless of technicalities.

Even under this dumb masquared, didn't the Researcher herself say identical twins doesn't mean the same person twice? You don't have to stay tethered.

The loops are over. You don't have to stay by him. You don't have to stay by this party. If you want to dip out, you can.

Even under the ache, the thought gives you some sort of confort. Not having a script anymore... is one of the reasons you've been carrying those bottles. Your newborn-like body also has fresh, newbie to drinking sensibility. Isn't that sweet?

You brush and tie your hair, then turn around, and start to make your way out of the room before you hear her voice.

"Come with us. We need a second table anyway."

Oh, no.

"How long were you awake?"

"A bit. I didn't peek, I swear."

You know she didn't. Your Researcher wouldn't either, and this one seens to be a little nicer. Unlike just enough to be uncanny.

Your head throbs. You really need some water.

"I see you at breakfast, Madame." You're not drinking while hangover, as mild as it may be, let alone in an empty stomach.

You find your way to a bathroom to splash water in your face after drinking your fill, and the face in the mirror taunts you, worse than back in the first day. It's you. It's not you. It's not Stardust. You're not Stardust. Except you are.

You wipe your face dry before putting on a nice smile and going out for the dining area. Is the Kid's temper being influenced by losing one of the main ways to release tension?

You make it there almost at the same time as your roommate. Uncanny. The Kid and the Housemaiden got there first. Of course they did. You're not surprised the Traveler isn't here yet. The Fighter is another story. Something the Fighters seen to have in common is a body still working on a Defender's internal clock. Maybe Stardust will notice the lack of company and go after him. You can and do feel sympathy and amusement at the same time. Still a baby, aren't them?

"Good morning, Madame, Sisyphus." The Housemaiden says, fidging her fingers.

"Good morning." You respond. You don't want that name on your tongue so early on, directed at her.

"Good morning, Mirabelle, Boniface."

"You skipped diner. It's not good to skip meals." The Kid pouts. They're clearly annoyed over inn food. You think they would hit you with the wok if it was their food.

You think of a grilled fish head in a nice napkin. You wouldn't skip on their food if someone offered gold coins.

"I know, Bonnie. I was just really, really tired. It's very draining to travel alone."

"Hnf, I can forgive you. But you'll have to not let that happen again."

"I'll try."

"Don't worry, Boniface, I can help with that."

The latent comic relief instincts tell you it means no more drinking before bed. Beautiful. Speaking of beauty

The Traveler and the Fighter arrive at the same time. Curious. 

You look at the arrangement. The Fighter between the Traveler and the Housemaiden, you next to the Researcher, and the Kid in the end. You could almost believe you're part of this, couldn't you? Such a shame you know the truth. They're only being receptive because you supposedly have a connection to Stardust... A normal one, that is.

Breakfast is nothing lavish, pancakes and a few pieces of fruit, but the time since your return have not been enough to make you take food for granted. Specially food with salt. Getting used to the gross stuff like sweat and potty is a fair price for the chance of enjoying such thing.

The tension that the Kid could release cooking, they did stabbing the poor food like it owned them money.

"Today's the day! You're all meeting Nille! And I can show you my favorite places! Everyone must be unfrozen, so it's gonna be good!"

Nille... Nille... Oh, right, the sister. They... wished to see her again, didn't them? And now this Kid can.

It's not the best of thoughts, but, right now, you kind of also have more selfish reasons to want to meet. It's your second day, and you'll be recieving another person. A stranger, but with a connection that makes not feels like it with the intensity it should. Is this what the others are feeling like with you?

In the corner of your good eye, you notice the Traveler and Fighter moving calves together.

You'd think that would make you angrier, but... Right now, you mostly feel empty. Not numb, a sad type of empty. You think of hands around yours, sweaty to the point of feeling throught your gloves, but still warm and comforting.

And give your signature grin in their general direction. You're not dealing with that right now.

"Touching their ankles? Before bonding? You dare defile my sibling in front of me, defender? Shameful!"

This is easier. No need for a pun and that weird display stopped. Stardust glared at you, but you don't give it the dignity of a reaction.

If he wants you to play a role again, then you'll do it your way.

[comfortjoonie]

Hey hey :)

Can you please do something with Joon getting Appendicitis? Like while they're recording Namjoons got a stomachache and nobody really thinks much of it but then he throws up and they go back to the dorm to look after him but then it exalates and he has to got the hospital?

anon this is nearly 3000 words long! sorry it is so long! i really enjoyed writing this one <3333

Also just to preface this may not be medically accurate! This is based off my limited knowledge & my experience in surgery when i had a broken rib. sorry for any inaccuracies.

TW: Medically inaccurate, surgery, vomit, etc

“Hyung?”  Jungkook’s voice causes Namjoon to set down his water bottle.  “You okay?”  Namjoon instinctively nods.

“Fine.”  He tries not to wince as what feels like the hundredth hard cramp hits his lower stomach.  “Why?”

“You just look kind of…I don’t know.  In pain?” Jungkook asks. 

“Oh.  Well, I’m not.”  Namjoon stands up from the couch in the break room, but regrets it and doubles over, putting a hand on his stomach.  He’s been feeling this way for nearly two days now.  It just started as a small bit of pain, but it’s increased by so much that it’s hard to sleep and walk.  He can’t let anyone know, though.

“Hyung?”

“Fine, Jungkook.  I’m fine.  Just a little stomach ache.”  Namjoon straightens up and runs a hand through his hair.

“Are you nervous?” Jungkook asks.

“No.  I told you, I’m alright,” Namjoon says again.  “I’ll just drink some water or something.  The others are gonna be here soon and we’re gonna start recording.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip.  “You look bad, hyung.  You’re sweating.”

Namjoon wipes his face dry with his shirt.  “No need to worry, Jungkook.  I’ll be fine.”  Jungkook opens his mouth again, but he’s cut off when the other five members come through the door.

“Hey, guys,” Hoseok smiles.  

“Hi,” Jungkook and Namjoon say in unison.

“Everything alright?” Seokjin says.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, but everyone can sense the tension in the room.  “I’m gonna go to the bathroom quickly.”

“But hyung, the director’s gonna be here soon –” Jimin says.

“--I said quickly.  I’ll be back in less than a minute.”  Namjoon leaves the break room and closes it behind him.  All eyes turn to Jungkook.

“What’s going on with him?” Seokjin asks to the youngest.

“W-what do you mean?” Jungkook asks nervously.  He doesn’t want to make Namjoon mad by telling the others he isn’t feeling well.”

“He looks weird.  Did you guys get in a fight?” Seokjin asks, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“Uh…no.  He just said he has a stomach ache.  But he looked really bad.  He was sweating a lot,” Jungkook spills, and instantly feels bad.  He expects everyone to be as worried as he is, but instead Yoongi just smiles.

“You don’t need to worry so much, Jungkook.  It’s not a big deal, you know.  He’ll be alright.” 

Jungkook nods.  “Yeah.  I know, I just don’t like seeing him in pain.”

Seokjin pats his shoulder.  “He’s fine, Jungkook.  You know Namjoon.  He’s probably just nervous.”

Namjoon comes through the door, looking pale.

“All good?” Hoseok asks.

“Yep,” Namjoon says, briskly walking over to the couch and sitting down next to Jungkook.  He’d spent the last minute washing his face with cold water and drinking as much water as he could.  It didn’t help; it just made his stomach hurt worse.  The pain was moving to his right side and it was getting sharper.  

The recording director walked through the door and smiled at the members.  “Ready?”

–

Namjoon was once again standing next to Jungkook during the recording session, but this time with Seokjin on the other side of him.  Jungkook kept glancing over at Namjoon, seeing him beginning to sweat more and breathe a little shallower.  He looks nauseated too, turning paler and swallowing constantly.  But he’s still pushing through and rapping somehow.  If Namjoon feels as bad as he looks, Jungkook can’t imagine how hard it must be for him to act normal.  Jungkook doesn’t know anyone who can power through like Namjoon can.

When the director stops Namjoon halfway through his verse, everyone turns to him.  Namjoon swallows.

“Namjoon, are you alright?” The director asks. 

“Of course,” Namjoon confirms, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“You need to work on your enunciation.”

“Right,” Namjoon says, taking a deep breath.  “Sorry.”  Jungkook makes eye contact with Seokjin, who is starting to look concerned as well. 

“Can you just come back to me?  I just…”

Namjoon can barely speak through the intense nausea he’s feeling.  “I…”  Before anyone can say anything, he’s bending over and gagging violently, bringing up all the excessive amount of water he drank.  He coughs and moans softly.  All six members rush over to him, Yoongi rubbing his back in circles.

“Sorry – I just –” Namjoon gags again, gasping for breath.  “Just need–”  He coughs.  “--one minute–”  He crosses his arms over his stomach.

“This is really bad, Joon,” Hoseok says.  “You need to get home.”

The director comes into the recording booth and quickly tells them they can go home.  Namjoon is definitely not okay.  But he still protests: “Wait–I can clean that–”

“No, Joonie, you’re going home.  The janitor will take care of it,” Hoseok says.

“But–”

“Come on.”  Hoseok pulls Namjoon upright and wraps his arm around his shoulder.  “I’ll drive you back to the dorm, okay?”  Namjoon silently nods.

“Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, go take the car in the lower lot, alright?  We’ll take the car on the street,” Seokjin instructs.  The maknaes nod, all of them looking equally shocked and worried.  They head off to the lot, and Namjoon and his hyungs go to the car parked on the street.  Namjoon rests his head on Yoongi’s lap for the short ten minute drive back to the dorms, and when they arrive, the maknaes are already there.  Namjoon can still feel the sharp pain coming in intervals on his right side, but it’s starting to get worse.  Every breath he takes agitates it, and every small move he makes sends a burning pain throughout his lower stomach.

As soon as Namjoon is inside the dorms, he’s rushing to the bathroom to vomit again.  Jungkook holds his hair while Yoongi rubs his back and Seokjin wets a towel with cold water.  Yoongi can already feel the leader’s fever getting worse by the minute.  More than that, Namjoon seems to be unable to catch a break from the vomiting.  Every time he stops, he starts again 30 seconds later.  

“God, Namjoon, what did you eat?” Yoongi asks after at least ten minutes of this.

“Last night?” Namjoon coughs.

“Anytime in the last two days.”  Seokjin removes the cold towel from the back of Namjoon’s neck.  It’s warm now, so he starts running it under cold water again.

“I have no idea,” Namjoon whispers, wiping the sweat from his brow.  “Just whatever Seokjin-hyung cooked for me.”  Yoongi turns to Seokjin.

“Nothing special,” Seokjin replies.  “Beef, rice, chicken, seaweed, eggs, noodles…nothing that could have caused this.”  Namjoon groans in pain at the new burning sensation in his side.  Jungkook wipes Namjoon’s mouth with toilet paper and flushes it down the toilet.

“Who were you around, hyung?” Jungkook asks.

“No one who was sick.  Jackson, you guys, and some friends from college.  That’s it,” Namjoon rasps out.

“You probably just got it randomly, then.  You’ll be fine,” Seokjin says.  “Ready to go to your bed?”  Namjoon shakes his head.

“Too far,” he groans again.

“Couch, then?” Namjoon nods and Jungkook helps him up.  Namjoon whines in pain at first and tries not to cry at the pain as he walks over to the couch and lies down.  The rest of the members are waiting there for him, all on their phones on the different chairs around the room.  Namjoon is breaking out in heavy sweats again, but he feels freezing cold.

“We need to get you some food, Joonie.  And your temperature,” Yoongi says.  “Taehyung, get some rice for him.”  Taehyung looks terrified.  

“Hyung, he looks like he’s about to die.  He needs the hospital,” Hoseok says.

Yoongi looks down at Namjoon.  He looks awful.  His eyes are squeezed shut and his breathing is uneven.  He’s pale, shaking, and drenched in sweat.  “Just…try to get some food in him,” Yoongi says.  “I’ll go grab the thermometer.”

Taehyung nods reluctantly and leaves to the kitchen while Yoongi heads to the linen closet.  Seokjin sits beside Namjoon, putting the younger’s head in his lap and feeling his forehead.

“Namjoonie, you’re burning up.  We need to get your shirt off or you’ll pass out from the fever.”  Namjoon shakes his head.

“I’m freezing, hyung,” he insists, but Seokjin insists.

“You’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt.  At least let us put you in a tank top, Joonie,” he says, and Namjoon shakes his head again.

“We don’t know what to do, hyung.  If you won’t put on a tank top, you have to eat something so we can give you a fever reducer,” Jimin says.  Namjoon’s stomach churns at the thought of swallowing anything.

“Too nauseous.”

“Then we’ll take your shirt off and put you in a tank top.”

“Too cold.”

Seokjin sighs, trying not to get frustrated.  Namjoon is so stubborn when he’s sick.  But he doesn’t want to raise his voice or get forceful with Namjoon.  He’s sensitive when he has a fever, and making him cry would definitely make him throw up again.  “I just don’t know what to do with you, Joonie.”  Namjoon opens his teary eyes and wipes them.

“Me neither,” Namjoon whispers.  Seokjin moves his hand down to Namjoon’s shirt to try and at least lift it up a little, but Namjoon cries out in pain when Seokjin’s hand accidentally bumps into Namjoon’s right side.

“Ah!  Hyung, stop, stop, stop–”

“--sorry, sorry.  It hurts?”

Namjoon nods, his eyes welling up with tears again.  Seokjin cards his hand through Namjoon’s hair and sighs.  “I don’t know what to do with you,” he says again.  

Yoongi returns with the thermometer in his hand.  “Sorry it took so long.  I couldn’t find it.”  He squats down in front of the couch and runs the thermometer along Namjoon’s head.  “Damn,” he whispers.  “102.  We need to get you eating something so we can give you some medicine.”

Taehyung and Jungkook walk back into the living room with a bowl of white rice and chopsticks, putting both in Seokjin’s hands.  He grabs a small bite of rice and puts it in Namjoon’s mouth.  Namjoon chews and swallows, but again starts gagging only three seconds later.  Seokjin sighs, rubbing Namjoon’s back as Jimin rushes to the kitchen and comes back with a metal bowl.  Namjoon exhaustedly vomits the rice back up into the bowl.  He’s empty, but he keeps gagging.  Jungkook and Hoseok exchange a glance, both of them thinking the same thing.  Namjoon needs the hospital.  

Namjoon feels like he can barely breathe through the searing pain.  Hot tears run down his face and the nausea fades out.  He tries to sob as quietly as possible, covering his face with his hands.  The pain feels like nothing he’s ever felt.

“Shh, Namjoonie, calm down,” Seokjin says.  “You’re okay.  It’s ok.”

“Hyung, I can’t watch this anymore,” Jungkook says.  “We need to take him to the hospital, now.”  Seokjin sighs.

“Why are you crying, Namjoon?” Seokjin asks.

“Hurts, my stomach hurts,” Namjoon sobs.

“Where?” Hoseok asks, but Namjoon can’t speak through the sobs.  Hoseok presses down on Namjoon’s upper stomach.  “Here?”  Namjoon shakes his head.  Hoseok moves his hand down to Namjoon’s lower right stomach and presses.  Namjoon screams in pain,

“Stop!  Hyung!”  Namjoon’s whole body shakes in pain and his vision goes black for a moment before he regains it.  He can barely think through the pain.

“I’m sorry, Joonie,” Hoseok says, “But we need to take you to the hospital.”

“It’s his appendix, right?” Jungkook asks.  “He needs an ambulance.”

Namjoon doesn’t even have the energy to protest.  His vision is getting dark, and his hearing is muffled from the pain.  He’s barely conscious as he hears Yoongi talking on the phone, then a few minutes later the sound of a siren and the main door being opened.  He’s lifted onto a stretcher by paramedics, tears still running down his cheeks and Seokjin holding his hand.  Yoongi and Seokjin sit in the seats on the side of the ambulance and the doors shut behind them.  An oxygen mask is placed over Namjoon’s mouth and he’s instructed to breathe slowly and deeply.  But the pain makes it too hard, and tears continue to run down his face.  

“It is probably his appendix,” a paramedic says, taking Namjoon’s temperature.  “Temperature’s 102.3,” he says to the other medic.

“I had appendicitis and it wasn’t even close to this,” Yoongi said.  “And he has a higher pain tolerance than me.”

“You probably caught it early.  It was less severe than this,” the paramedic responded.

“But he just said he had a small stomach ache today?” Yoongi says.

“He probably just didn’t want to concern you,” the paramedic says, and Yoongi’s heart sinks.  How could he not notice?  “Namjoon?  How long have you been feeling bad?” the paramedic asks, placing a stethoscope on Namjoon’s chest.  “Heart rate’s 110,” he says to the other medic, who writes it down on a notepad. 

“Two days,” Namjoon chokes out.  Seokjin’s jaw drops.

“Two days?  Joonie…” Seokjin wipes the tears off Namjoon’s cheeks.  “You must 

have been in so much pain.”  Yoongi blows out a sigh.

“Is there anything you can do for him?” he asks.

“We’ll see what the doctors say.”

—-

Namjoon nearly passes out from the pain of being moved into the CT machine, then into a wheelchair and into a private room.  The nurses tell him it’ll be just fifteen minutes until his results come back.  An IV is put in his arm with pain medication and a warm blanket is placed over him.  Seokjin sits on the other side of the room with head in his hand, talking on the phone frustratedly to the managers.  Yoongi holds Namjoon’s hand and uses a cold cloth to wipe his sweaty face.

Namjoon’s able to think clearly after ten minutes or so of the pain medication.  His eyes hurt from the crying and he feels completely empty.

“Better?” Yoongi whispers.

“Yeah,” Namjoon says softly.  “I’m sorry, hyung.”

“What for?” Yoongi squeezes Namjoon’s hand.

“Stressing you out.  Making you bring me here,” Namjoon sniffles.

“It’s fine, Joonie.  You didn’t make us do anything.  We want to be here.”  Namjoon looks at Jin.  He’s off the phone now, smiling at Namjoon.

“No you don’t,” Namjoon whispers.

“Of course we do.  There’s nothing more we want than to be here with you,” Jin says.  Namjoon just shakes his head and looks down.

The doctor knocks on the door and comes into the room, facing Namjoon with a clipboard.  “How are we?”  He doesn’t wait for a response.  “I really hate to break this to you, but unfortunately, it is your appendix.  It’s very acute.  It’s about to burst, and you need emergency surgery.”

Yoongi frowns. “We can’t wait another hour or so?  The rest of us are still–”

“No, unfortunately, like I said, we really need to do this now,” the doctor says.  A group of nurses come into the room.  One of them removes Namjoon’s IV from the tube connecting to the bag and another unbrakes his bed and moves the top part all the way down.  “It’ll just be an hour or so and you can both meet him in recovery.”  Namjoon looks scared, but Yoongi smiles at him.

“You’ll be fine, Joonie.  We’ll be there when you wake up.”

“Don’t leave the hospital,” Namjoon says.

“We won’t, I promise.”

—-----

Namjoon wakes up feeling strange.  His entire stomach and right side is completely numb and he’s warm all over.  His mouth is dry and his throat is sore.  His eyes are heavy.  He feels nauseous.  

“Wh…” Namjoon whispers.  He looks around and sees another patient twenty feet away from him.  A team of nurses surround him.

“All good.  We can take him to his room,” says a female doctor.  “You’re in the recovery ward, Namjoon.  We’ll take you to your room now.  Everyone is waiting.”

Namjoon feels his bed move and he shuts his eyes.  When he opens them again, he’s in a room, surrounded by his members.  

“Namjoonie,” he hears Hoseok say softly, petting his hair.  “You did so good.  Everything went well.”

“Th-the surgery?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responds.  “They’ll discharge you in five hours.  And they’ll ask you to get up in three.”

“I can’t feel my stomach,” Namjoon says.  “I’m thirsty.”

“You can’t drink yet, Namjoon,” Seokjin says.  “Just wait a little.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes.

“Do you want to watch a movie?  Jungkook brought his laptop,” Jimin says.  Namjoon nods.  “What sounds good?”

“Anything is fine,” Namjoon says.  

Jungkook turns on a romance movie, but before the opening credits even end, Namjoon is asleep again.

“He had me worried to death,” Seokjin says.

“Me too,” Yoongi says.  “I can’t stand seeing him like that…in so much pain.”

“He’s okay now.  He’ll be okay,” Hoseok says.  “Just…let him rest.  And when he wakes up, we’ll figure it out from there.”

“...I just feel so bad for him,” Seokjin sighs.

“It’s going to be okay.  He’ll feel even better when he wakes up again.  And we’ll just take this day by day, until he’s all the way better.  One day at a time.  He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Seokjin smiles.  “Thank you, Hobi.”

hope you guys enjoyed! as always let me know what you think!

[starwalker03]

What would the WMLP cast do if they got sent back in from where they currently are in the fic to their old body 10 minutes before the mission that went bad is set to start.

ooooooooh yes we're on the same mindwave lmao I have in fact had this thought.

all of them absolutely hating their tiny little teenage bodies. appearing in them and being like 'why am I suddenly super self-conscious and uncomfortable? why does everything feel slightly off when I move? why are all my thoughts happening so quickly?' and finally realising they're back in a pubescent body and they're just like 'oh I see, I'm in hell'

all of them trying to take this seriously, arguments on the rise, but they just can't because they're all so tiny and silly looking. especially Dick, who has suddenly lost like, almost three feet worth of height.

Wally's voice cracking every three seconds tho. oh my god.

all of them trying to hold up the ruse with the league for as long as possible because they don't want to tell them, they want to figure this out themselves. except maybe Conner, he kinda wants to just tell the league and let them fix it.

Them getting a mission and everyone being like 'well this will be interesting' and Conner sweating because he really doesn't think they should be going out in the field like this.

In the mind link:

Conner: we gotta tell them

everyone: don't you dare!

Conner: no seriously guys we've got to tell them

Wally, trying to be inconspicuous as he glares at Conner: snitches get stitches

Conner: Wally i could fold you like a pretzel right now. for the love of god can we please just tell them

Kaldur: I'm with Conner on this one

M'Gaan: if all of you don't shut up and keep the act going I will turn your brains to mush now everyone shut up and get in the bioship

oh jeez, M'Gaan seeing the bioship again. my heart.

I think eventually Batman notices Conner being super awkward and sweating anxiously and he's like 'what's going on?'

Artemis: nothing!

Dick, through gritted teeth: everything is great

M'Gaan: yep! all fine!

Conner: *visbly sweats even more*

Dick, in the mindlink: you're waking up with kyrptonite in your bed tomorrow I swear to fuck

Conner: we all time travelled and ended up in our current bodies!

everyone but Kaldur: CONNER YOU LITTLE FUCKING SNITCH

Kaldur, wincing: well that didn't last long

Batman and Black Canary: what

lmao. love it.

[daintyduck99]

(this whole list really is rulie coded 😆)  “you’ve been talking about this crush for months now, when are you going to just go for it?” “i don’t think i can…”  and rulie?

Julie eyes the bags piled in Reggie’s arms as he steps past her into the apartment.

"That looks like a lot more than pizza."

He blushes, then ducks his head, carefully depositing everything on the kitchen table.

"Yeah, I—sorry if it's creepy, but I noticed you've been using your heating pad a lot and I just got paid, so—I got some stuff that I thought might make you feel better."

She slips under his arm in an instant, startling a laugh out of him, and peers into the bags, blinking tears out of her eyes.

He got all of her favorite snacks, plus an adorable calico kitten plush, and he even bought her preferred flavor of frozen pizza.

Who wouldn't be hopelessly in love with this man? Seriously. How is he real?

Julie twists to bury her face in his chest, hugging him fiercely. His arms come around her easily, and she bunches her fingers in the back of his shirt.

"Thank you, Reggie. It's not creepy, it's incredibly sweet. How much do I—"

"Julie, you don't owe me anything. Don't worry about it, okay? I pulled extra hours last week since Nick was out sick, so I had money to burn, anyway. And who was it that saved my ass on that huge lit essay?"

She giggles, only regretting it slightly as her body pangs in protest. "Me?"

"You," he whispers into her hair, and she suppresses a shiver. "That and way more. Let's not start keeping score now, okay?"

Julie snorts as they unravel, playfully poking him in the ribs.

"You say that now. I'd better not hear anything similar from you the next time I decide to get you flowers or something nice for the hell of it, alright?"

Reggie softens. "You'd buy me flowers?"

The smallest things make him happy. She'd pour over every single one of her mother's gardening journals and build him a botanical garden, if she could, just to make him smile like that every single day.

But she swallows all of that down.

She settles on replying with, "I will. But right now I think our ice cream is melting."

His eyes get wide. "Shit! The pizza too!"

It's fine, though. Everything is salvageable, and before long, they're cuddled up on the couch with Julie's calico plush, who needs a name, and her heating pad, watching season three of Stranger Things. By familiar agreement, Reggie finishes her pizza crusts as she digs into her pint.

"You know," Reggie murmurs during a montage of non-stop bickering, "I kind of get why all of the kid couples are fighting, but why are the older couples acting like that, too? Shouldn't a healthy romance hit this point where it's kind of—boring?"

Julie hums. "They didn't think that was interesting enough, I guess?"

"As if they needed more conflict. And just—every couple? Come on, guys."

She laughs, which makes him laugh, too.

But she doesn't summon the courage to ask the question burning on her tongue until the start of the next episode.

"Would you want something like that?"

"An—exploding car?"

She giggles into his shoulder. "No, you goof. A relationship. One that's…not boring, per se, but domestic, I guess."

His fingers knot in the sleeve of her shirt.

"Well—I have you, don't I?"

Huh.

That's…huh.

Still, she knows a deflection from Reggie when she hears one.

And as painful as her next question is…

Julie has to know.

"What about your crush?"

He huffs. "I don't—having a crush as an adult is so embarrassing. I have like, three quarters of a degree! Could we not call it that?"

"Babe. You used that word like seasoning the last time you were drunk. It's fine."

She twists in time to see him wince.

"What—what all did I say?"

"Nothing you haven't told me before," she soothes, fumbling for the remote and pausing the episode. "At least, nothing else sticks out that I remember. I wasn't exactly sober, myself."

Realization dawns in Reggie’s eyes.

"The night that Willie brought us home."

"Yeah. But Reggie…you've been talking about this crush for months now. When are you going to just go for it?"

He worries his lip between his teeth.

"I don't think I can. I—I can't."

"Why not? You're the sweetest man I've ever met. Who wouldn't want you?"

This only seems to stress him out more, for some reason. She hands him the calico, and he squeezes it, exhaling slowly.

"I can't risk it, Julie. It's someone who's already precious to me, and I—I can't even imagine losing them."

He makes the mistake of meeting her eyes and damns himself further by flinching.

"Oh," she breathes, "it's…me?"

He lets out a little self-deprecating laugh.

"Yeah. It was foolish of me to start falling for my roommate, huh?"

"I'm a bigger fool than you," she says softly, which snaps his gaze back to hers. "I'd already fallen for you by the time you agreed to take Flynn's spot on the lease. I had a crush on you…freshman year?"

Reggie gapes at her. "But—we didn't—"

"Really know each other then? Because I barely spoke to anyone?" She shrugs. "You were kind to me, anyway. My mom had just died and I was always so sad and you…didn't treat me like I was some kind of bomb. You made me laugh. And…"

He waits, still staring at her owlishly.

She smiles even as tears sting her eyes.

"You were the one who eventually introduced me to your friends and brought me back out of my shell. Flynn did, too, but…I got over the crush I had on her. Not you, though. With you, I just keep falling."

Reggie’s mouth works, but no sound comes out. Finally, what falls out of it is—

"So I assume you aren't kicking me out?"

Julie laughs so hard that her cramps come back with a vengeance, which worries Reggie so much that they both fall off of the couch in his flailing, but before long they're giggling and grinning like idiots, tangled together on the cheap carpet.

And maybe it's not the most romantic moment to kiss someone, but for them?

For them, it's absolutely perfect.

[userautumn]

Hope this scratches the itch!

"Eddie, I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't fine, I said you had soot under your eyes. Now stop moving. You're worse than Christopher when he gets his shots."

Eddie turns Buck's face toward the dying sunlight, twisting his chin this way and that so he can see the extent of the smear. Were he slightly more Buck's Platonic Best Friend and slightly less Hopelessly in Love, he would let him walk around with soot on his face until Buck inevitably figured out he was wearing their last call on his skin. But Eddie is nothing if not a bleeding heart romantic -- nothing if not so deeply, completely, and pathetically in love with him that it makes him sick. So instead of doing that, he's doing this.

Buck sighs loudly, full of exaggerated exasperation, but he stops moving, opting instead to lean against the truck so he can let Eddie fuss.

Good. He should know by now: resistance is futile.

Eddie licks his thumb and glides the pad of it across the swell of Buck's cheekbone. He wonders what it says about them that Buck doesn't wince at the slick feeling of his saliva, that Eddie didn't even think hey, he might think this is gross before he did it. But then, there have been a lot of moments like that between them lately. So many that Eddie has lost count -- moments that should give them pause, make them question, but haven't.

It's been almost a year since Buck died. Eddie thought the impulse to hold him, touch him, and extra gentle with all his fragile softness would go away once Buck recovered, but it never did. If anything, that desire increased ten-fold. He's always wanted to protect Buck, always wanted to put himself between Buck and harm's way in order to keep him safe, but now he finds himself craving and acting upon the small stuff too. Now, he fluffs the throw pillows on Buck's side of the couch so they're soft before he sits down. Now, he throws Buck's laundry in with his own and makes sure his favorite cup is clean when he comes over. Now, apparently, he uses his thumbs and his spit to wipe the soot from underneath his eyes.

What's more is that Buck lets him. Buck, who is always the one to throw himself into danger, to light himself on fire to keep others warm, lets Eddie fuss over him. It feels like it means something, though what that could be, Eddie isn't sure. He knows what he wants it to mean, but wanting something and actually having it are two different things. He does wonder though, because sometimes, when he looks at Buck, he thinks he's not alone in this. He thinks that, instead of pining helplessly for someone who doesn't want him back, that they might just be standing on the precipice of something together.

But he's never sure.

Even now, as Buck watches him with a faint trace of amusement in his eyes, looking safe and happy and pleased underneath it all, Eddie isn't sure.

One day, he'd like to be.

"You're a mother hen." Buck's voice is soft, teasing. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"You're forgetting I have sisters."

"So, what, does that mean you're like my brother?"

A beat passes.

Eddie looks Buck.

Buck looks at him.

They both cringe at the same time.

Eddie doesn't know how to define his relationship with Buck but brothers they most definitely are not.

Ew.

"What it means," Eddie says pointedly, "is that I learned to coddle. Mom was busy and Dad wasn't home. No one else was going to do it."

Buck's mouth spreads into a wide, slow smile. "You're soft."

Once upon a time, Eddie would have taken those words as a challenge to prove his own masculinity. Now, he just shrugs.

"I am. And I like taking care of people. You're people. That means I take care of you."

There's more to it than that, of course. Eddie would fight God and win just to be able to take care of Buck, but Buck doesn't need to know all that. Not right now.

Eddie drags his thumb over the warm skin of Buck's face, blunt fingernails careful around his water line. He's got beautiful eyes. Everything about him is beautiful, but when the golden hour haze hits his face and his skin is warm and his eyes are illuminated, he looks like something out of a painting.

"You're beautiful, you know that?"

He doesn't mean to say it, and he's not sure when his brain-to-mouth filter went on vacation and decided to make his inside thoughts outside thoughts but he doesn't take it back. It's true. Buck is gorgeous and Eddie's heart hurts with how badly he wants him.

Buck's cheeks go pink, his eyes widening. "Oh."

"Oh?" Eddie teases.

"Oh," Buck confirms. But his face softens like melted butter, his cheeks flushing even more. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Hey!" Chimney's voice punches through the air like a fist, shattering the bubble they've created around them. "If you two are done making mooney eyes at each other, it's time to roll out!"

Mooney-eyes? Eddie is going to kill him.

But he's not wrong. They have to leave because technically, they're still at work and technically, Eddie can't spend all day smothering Buck with affection, so he finishes wiping the soot away and takes a half-step back. The forced distance feels like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.

Right. Back to the real world.

"There you go," he says, "Right as rain."

"Thanks," Buck murmurs.

He still looks soft and open and sweet and Eddie wants nothing more than to swoop in and kiss him, drag his hands through Buck's hair and taste him, finally fucking taste him. The way Buck is looking at him, Eddie thinks he would let him. He almost knows it.

Buck opens his mouth as if to say something, his body swaying closer. He looks beautiful and hungry and desperate and Eddie wants. But then someone honks the horn, the moment passes, and Buck's mouth closes with a snap. He shakes his head like he's physically clearing his thoughts, clears his throat, and nods over his shoulder.

"Come on. We should head back."

Eddie's heart hammers in his chest. He's surprised Buck can't hear it.

"Lead the way."

Buck smiles, small and sweet, and heads back to the truck, and Eddie aches, and aches, and aches.

Eddie using his thumbs to help Buck brush the off soot from under his eyes is living rent free in my head now

[caxycreations]

Tylvinian Tales: The Wolf's Den

Chapter Twelve: Awakening

Ferusian Law, Fourth Sequence, Article 3: Law of Coercion

Coercion is defined as the act of persuasion via threat or force.

Anyone found guilty of coercion is punishable by up to ten years imprisonment

and a fine no less than 45% of their expected annual income.

Darkness, cold, the metallic scent of sterile air. My eyes opened slowly, taking in my surroundings. Where was I? I wasn't at home, the beige curtains blocking the light were proof enough of that. Everything felt foggy, the haze of sleep barely lifted as I looked around the room. The walls were a soft baby blue, with a TV mounted in the corner of the room. The bed had railings on either side of it, lowered at the moment, the metal dented and broken in places. I was in a hospital room. Why was I in a hospital room? My eyes fell on a sleeping figure in a chair by the wall opposite the curtained window, white track jacket and auburn fauxhawk a dead giveaway as to who it was, even with my vision being blurry as it was.

"Trace?" I asked, my voice hoarse and weak as I turned my head to face him fully. He stirred and, after a moment, lifted his head to look at me. His eyes went wide and he stood quickly, wincing and grabbing his side. He relaxed a little and stepped up to the bed, smiling. 

"Hey man, welcome back to the land of the living." He said with a grin. My vision was clearing, the haze fading and everything coming into focus. His jacket was open, white t-shirt stained with crimson, his jacket bearing a similar, albeit smaller, stain where it had seeped through. The events of before came back to me in an instant, from Trace's injury to tracking David, to the people I'd-

Oh gods. I...I had killed them. I'd lost control. I'd finally snapped and people were dead.

I started to speak, but no words came. My throat felt tight, my chest felt tighter, and my heart was running circles around entire planets, beating as quickly as the wings of a hummingbird. My breath hitched, then quickened, and the room started to spin, slowly at first then picking up speed. I grabbed the railing, feeling the metal bend and give under the force of my grip. That grip was dangerous. I was dangerous. I was a murderer. My mind supplied me with evidence of that in the form of a memory, clear as crystal, of the owl, their head colliding with the back wall of the room as their body lay still at my paws. I could still see them twitching. 

I was suddenly forced back into the present by a soft hand on my shoulder, gentle and hesitant. I snapped my eyes to the figure, seeing Trace was no longer the only person in the room. Moss and David had joined us, with David standing before me, hand on my shoulder. His lip was still injured, but seemed to have healed well, and the bruising was further along than I remembered it being. Even the cuts and scratches along his arms had seemed to heal. He was in a different outfit than I remembered, a blue sundress rather than the shirt and pants he'd been in when I'd...when I'd saved him.

"Ryder, what is it?" he asked, worry filling his voice. I looked him in the eyes and felt my emotions swell. I tried to get up, wincing and hissing at the pain. I looked down, lifting the blankets. I was in a hospital gown, and after a moment I unzipped the front partway, checking my body. I had bandages along my side, patch gauze on my chest and stomach, as well as my shoulder. My eyes went wide at the sight, I'd never been hurt before. Even falling as a kid, where others would find scrapes, bruises, and the like, I'd never so much as felt the pain of a fall.

But I had been shot. I had been stabbed. I'd been clawed so deeply I'd ripped the claws from the poor bastard that did it.

I tried my best to keep my breathing steady, and felt a hand join David's, this one on my back.

"Uncle Rye, it's...It's okay, they're just bandages." they said quietly. 

"I don't need bandages." I said, incredulous. "Never have."

"Well this time you did, dumbass. Next time you go fighting someone with a gun, or a knife, remember those are made to punch right through skin, doesn't matter how tough you are. You're no armored lizard, you know." Trace said with a smirk. His devil-may-care attitude was, as much as I hated to admit it, exactly what I needed right now. David was worried. Moss was worried. Trace knew I was okay and wasn't afraid to act like it. I nodded, turning to look at them all.

"I'm fine, don't worry s' much about me. You all look pretty okay...How long was I out for th' count?" I asked, not seeing my phone, or a calendar, anywhere.

"Just a couple days. Long enough for me to find the time to drop by and stop these idiots from doing anything stupid while you were down. You know, like getting kidnapped again." A pretty voice called from the door. It was feminine, and low, with a hint of the beauty of a ringing bell. "Sorry for the wait, had to grab a drink." Davina said with a grin, walking into the room with a bottle of Forest Fountain. She was wearing a simple black crop top, black cargo pants, a bright aqua belt with an aqua strap loop dangling down against her right leg. She wore pale blue fingerless gloves, and her hair, brushed and carefully tended to, covered her left eye, the brow piercings above her left eye shining a little in the light. I lay back in my bed, chuckling.

"Always gotta be fashionably late, dont'cha 'Vina?" I asked, grinning a little. 

"She's not fashionably late, she's just selfish. Soda isn't as important as Ryder, Sissy." David scolded, pouting a little. He looked at me worriedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What my sister means to say," Davina said, leaning on David, her head on his shoulder, "is that I knew you would be okay because out of everyone here, I'm the only one with enough sense to see that you've been stable for the last day and a half, and a few shots and little pokes wouldn't be enough to take you out." She said with a grin. David let out a mrow of discontent, nudging her away.

"Just because I'm in a dress doesn't make me a girl!" He said in frustration, drawing a laugh from Davina. Moss walked up to me while the twins bickered, and leaned on the bed a little.

"Uncle Ryder? How are you feeling? Did it...hurt?" they asked, brow furrowing a little. I shook my head.

"I didn't even feel it when it happened, was too focused on gettin' Davey outta there. If'n I'd been a lil less pissed, I probably would'a been a pile'a pain on th' ground. How 'bout you, pup? They do anythin' t' ya?" I asked, reaching over to hug the young hybrid.

They shook their head, smiling a little. "Trace protected me. He made sure they never got anywhere near me." 

"Well, glad for that, ain't no doubt." I said, biting back anger. Trace had a choice to protect one or both of them and had chosen Moss. I couldn't blame him, I would have dove in front of David, no hesitation. Moss was like Trace's own kid, and if I faulted him for putting him first I'd be a hypocrite.

Trace, David, and Davina bickering in the background tuned out, and I focused on Moss completely now, smiling a bit. "Y' wanna know somethin' cool?" I asked, grinning. Moss nodded, leaning in a little to hear me better. "Th' guy guardin' th' door pissed himself when he saw me." I said with a smirk. He hadn't, but Moss didn't know that, and I knew it'd sound better if he had. The caxling laughed, smiling at me. 

"Did he really?" They asked, smiling more.

"Sure as shit did. Picked'im up an' got right in his face, an' he got so scared he just let go." I explained, giving Moss a playful nudge. The caxling laughed more, hugging me a bit and turning to look at Trace and the twins for a minute.

"Hey, Uncle Ryder?" they asked, voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah, pup?"

"Are...you and Uncle David gonna be...You know." they trailed off, tone curious. I was about to answer, but then I remembered what I'd said last night. How I'd felt.

"I don't know. Maybe." I answered, not wanting to give false hope, but no longer blind to the idea. "We'll see. Lemme get outta this hospital first."

----

They nodded, smiling a little and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I chuckled, giving a happy growl. That caught the attention of David and the others, with the caxy looking at me in mock hurt.

"Ryder! How dare you cheat on me!" he exclaimed through a poorly-masked smile.

"Hey! That's my joke!" Moss fired back, laughing and walking over to give his uncle a playful nudge. The pair laughed together and hugged, and I felt my chest heat up. We were usually apart, with Davina and Moss living so far away and Trace spending most of his time there. But with everyone together like this I was reminded what it was like to have a family. This was my family.

I thought of the people I'd taken from the world last night. The people I'd hurt. Did they have families? Were they thugs out of want, or necessity? Were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time, defending themselves from someone clearly on the warpath? Or were they really as bad as I'd thought at the time? Were they monsters, reveling in their work and delighting in the pain they caused?

I thought about the families they might have. What their funerals may look like, what their friends and loved ones would think. I had a choice of how to move forward. I could let this tear me apart, I could let this eat at me until I was a husk, haunted by the memory. I could ignore it, pretend it was no big deal, justify it and move on. I could let it teach me, motivate me. But no matter what I chose, my feelings wouldn't change. I sighed, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. It didn't matter, I had time to process it all. Right now, my pack was here for me. I watched David and Davina, the twins catching up and bickering, nudging and batting at one another, yet their tails curled around one another, as if they were afraid the other would fly away and never come back if they ever separated.

I watched Trace, arm around Moss, chatting with the caxling and talking about the next race, and who might be real competition or not, while the caxling kept their own tail swaying behind them, content.

The day went by smoothly, but while their injuries had been mild enough to be discharged less than a day after admittance, I was still under observation. The four of them left eventually, staff ushering them out so I could sleep, not that I actually expected to get any sleep to begin with. I lay there, eyes open and staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. The sky faded from blue to orange to black, and sleep still never came. A good thing too. I heard footsteps outside the hall regularly, but these sounded different. Harder, more purposeful. Closer. I checked the clock, wondering if it was some scheduled medication I hadn't been told about. Nearly ten at night, it was almost on the hour. Maybe it was a medication.

The door opened, and my blood froze, eyes wide as I stared at the figure in the doorway. Purple scales, crisp purple suit, and vibrant, dangerous fuchsia eyes met mine as Kaleb strode in without a care. I tried to sit up, to grab the remote to call a nurse, but I couldn't move. I was vulnerable here, injured, already in bad shape. Every instinct I had told me to fight, to run, to dive out the window if I must, but whatever I do, get away from this man, now. But his stare met mine and I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.

"Hello, Mr. Trayson," He said plainly, "I hear you have been quite busy recently."

I growled, or tried to, my voice catching in my throat. Why couldn't I act? What was so intense about this man that I couldn't do anything? I felt my anger bubbling up, and then dissipate to fear. That anger was deadly. It was dangerous. That anger killed. That anger couldn't be allowed to take over, not again.

"Don't worry, the staff is well aware of my presence, and are well aware of my intention to visit you tonight. I would like to discuss something with you." His voice was calm, cold. His eyes never left mine, and for the longest time I wondered if he even blinked. He held out a paper, placing it on my chest. I tried to look down, but couldn't bring myself to leave his gaze.

"Your application has been accepted, but that isn't what I've come to discuss." He said as he pulled a folder from the inside pocket of his suit, opening it up and drawing a series of photos from it. Bodies on metal tables, pictures from a morgue. A single photo of me, lifting a wolf from the ground, their head planted firmly against a wall. Another photo, lifting them high, facing the other way, blood running down the side of their head. These were from the start of the night, when I had just found where they had taken David.

"How-" I asked, only to be cut off.

"I have many people on my payroll, including a few coroners and private investigators. I can't allow a prospective employee to be an unknown element, and so I ensure each one is well-investigated prior to hiring." He explained, as if it were so simple. I couldn't look at the photos, both out of inability to leave his gaze and out of fear of what I would see. He withdrew the photos, returning them to the folder. I stared at him, brow furrowed. What was this? Blackmail for crossing out his offer? Was he going to try and force me to take his deal? I watched him draw something else from his pocket, holding it in front of my face and blocking my view of his eyes, breaking the spell. It was a small slip of paper with my face on it, the same image from my driver's license, along with various details about me. Age, height, weight, address, phone number, even my Citizen Identification Number. At the bottom was text, explaining that the signature on the line below indicated an agreement to serve under Kaleb as... an enforcer?

"An enforcer? Enforcer'a what, exactly?" I asked, already suspicious. I was already hired, security for his club, what else could he possibly want with me after knowing what I'd done? The thought sent a chill down my spine, the answer forming in my head along with a select few others.

"You would be muscle for another of my organizations, one which works underneath the public face of my businesses. You'd be doing nothing illegal, mind you. I simply require more hands in some places, and yours have proven quite capable in matters such as these. I do not expect you to comply freely, of course. You will be heavily compensated, and of course, I would offer the fullest protective services at my disposal to Mr. Seltz. I would also be willing to testify on your behalf should the events of that night result in a trial." He explained.

I growled, looking at his face, keeping my eyes locked just above his eyes, now knowing better than to look into them. "And if I don't?" I asked, my tone accusatory.

"Then I will supply these photos to the Agency, anonymously of course, and they will know where to look. I will admit I am quite curious to see how you would ensure Mr. Seltz' safety from behind the bars of a jail cell." He said with a sickeningly calm smile.

"I wouldn't go t' jail. Was protectin' David, they were torturin'im. No Agent would even consider puttin' me on trial for it." I barked back. He thought he had me. I needed to keep control of the situation, I couldn't let him win.

"Perhaps. But this particular group was meant to meet with another, and it seems they never showed. Their buyers were quite upset about this. It wouldn't be hard to believe that perhaps you were sent by the buyers to clear them out as punishment for reneging on the deal, with Mr. Seltz simply being collateral, and a convenient alibi. And of course, were you to attempt to tell the Agency such things are falsehoods, the very same people who would protect Mr. Seltz could just as easily turn a blind eye should he find himself cornered or otherwise endangered, which, should you try contacting an Agency about this, is quite likely to happen."

I stared at him, fear seeping in. I looked down, gripping the sheets. If I didn't take the offer, he'd find some way to spin it to paint me as a criminal, and worse than that, David would be in more danger than ever. I knew his story was bullshit, but a court of law that didn't know me, one that saw how brutally I'd handled the situation? I couldn't imagine a single jury out there that wouldn't convict me for it. Excessive force at best, mass murder and ties to a gang at worst. On top of it all, if I took his offer, he'd protect David, and if I didn't, I'd be at a disadvantage keeping him safe, even if I was deemed innocent. I'd be under scrutiny the rest of my life, and David would be under constant threat.

I snatched the paper out of his hands and held a palm out, which he dropped a pen into. I looked at him again, then began writing in my own details on the paper.

"Under no circumstances are ya t' send me on any work that'll involve killin', or even beatin' folks. An' ya can't put me on no job but guardin' an' intimidation. I'll look as mean as ya need me t' look. But I ain't hurtin' nobody for ya. Clear?" I said sternly, glancing at him, pen hovering over the line.

"As clear as air. And you can trust that Mr. Seltz will be well-protected at all times. He won't even know." He said with a cold, unfeeling smile. I nodded, and with a careful stroke of the pen, wrote my name on the line, signing myself away to Kaleb Killian.

[natsglorifiedsimp]

Hiiiiiii! Your friendly neighborhood anon is back with another prompt. Last one, then I’ll leave you alone :)

Prompt: Can’t Live Without You (part 2) All 6 stones have to be returned to where they were taken. So Natasha returns to Vormir.

The Stonekeeper nods, “You’ve returned with the stone.”

“No, I’ve returned with an offer,” Natasha pulls the stone from her pocket, “a trade: a soul for a soul.”

Hey hahaha. Please I insist you keep them coming. As I said you're the only one who requests fics and I'm happy to have them and write one. So don't leave me alone, keep sharing your ideas anon <3

Can't live without you 2

Taglist

@diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @simp-erformarvelwomen

"No, you can't go, Nat" steve firmly stated. This wasn't up for discussion and she hated it.

She hasn't been well since the day that you were gone. When she announced it to the team everyone was devastated but Nat has the greatest impact of all.

She was not okay mentally and physically and her being stubborn about getting back the stone herself is a big no-no for the team.

"I can go" she nonchalantly said.

"No nat, you can't go with me" Cap was getting annoyed at how Natasha was being stubborn. He glared at her and the ex-assassin happily glared back.

"You're not okay, Nat" Banner said, looking away from the glaring assassin. "Bruce's right" Sam backed up Banner but was given a death glare by the assassin.

"They're right Nat you're not okay"

"Don't you think I know that!" Nat shouted, fed up with everyone looking at her with pity.

She sighed, guilty for her sudden outburst "Just give me the soul stone then" Nat commanded handing her hand out to Steve. "I'd like to bring back that stone"

"Okay fine" Steve grumbled annoyed at how he's scared and folded at Natasha's commanding glare. But mostly he gave it up to give Natasha closure for your death.

Natasha beamed at him with the most sarcastic smile she could muster. She took the stone and readied her suit.

————

The trip to another time was as nauseous as she remembered. The cliff that gave her nightmares was still the same. The purple aura of the sky and the stone keeper who was ugly as he will ever be.

She watched as you and herself leaped at the cliff. She winced and waited until the inevitable happened.

No matter how far she was from the scene she could hear your body slamming to the ground and her bone-crushing scream.

Oh, how she hated coming back to this place but she had a plan. She needed to get you back.

When everything was clear she face the red-faced man again. She didn't question how the man or ghost? Didn't act surprised seeing her again after the scene that happened earlier.

"You've returned with the stone" the stonekeeper stated. He gazes at the stone that's resting in Natasha's pocket.

"No, I've returned with an offer" the stone keeper watched as Natasha pulls the stone out of her pocket and laid out her hands for the red-faced man to see. "A trade: a soul for a soul"

The stone keeper gave her a knowing smirk, the man floated at the edge of the cliff and Natasha followed him.

"Which soul would you like to trade?" The red-faced man said. Natasha wondered how many souls were sacrificed just for this stupid orange stone. How many did lose their loved ones?

"I want my daughter," Nat stated. "I want Y/n Romanoff"

The stone keeper waved his hand and with one swift motion, your body was lifted limply in the air. Your mom gasped at the sight. She thought she'll never see you again.

Your body lay on the ground and Natasha almost ran towards you but the stone keeper stopped her.

"The stone" he firmly stated. Natasha visibly rolled her eyes and handed it out to him. She immediately clung to your limp body and felt how cold you were.

"Why isn't she waking up?" she questioned the man. She jerked your body trying to see anything but to no avail.

"It'll take a few seconds" He simply stated, clearly not caring about the dramatics.

"Honey, it's time to wake up" she cried out, voice shaking, heart pounding.

"Mama?"

Natasha sighed in relief hearing your voice. Hearing those words. She sobbed into your chest and grasp you tightly, afraid you'd be gone again, afraid you'll slip out of her hold.

"What'd I miss?" You asked. Natasha sniffly chuckled at your bad humor at this very bad time.

"Don't ever do that again" she firmly scolded, her eyes filled with mixed emotions. You looked at her and grinned with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry, ma" you wondered how much pain she went through without you. "Seeing you here, does that mean we won?"

"Yes y/n we won" she mumbled. You smiled at her and got up to the ground. Natasha took your hand protectively and scowled at the ugly man.

"Ma" you trailed off and she hummed in response. "Do I get ice cream when we come home?"

"Really? That's what you're gonna say after everything?"

"I mean I just went to the ghost world and there is no ice cream there" you exasperated.

"Nope, you won't get ice cream"

[youssefguedira]

more fencing au for you all bc i thought about it too long

Joe returns to fencing six months after his injury.

Andy asks him if he's sure, but doesn't push when he says he is; Nile is delighted, updating him on everything that's happened while he's been gone; Booker and Lykon welcome him back without mentioning the competition he'd gotten injured during; Quynh smiles at him as he enters; Nicky, who Joe hasn't seen in six months, because they don't really know each other outside of fencing, seems happy, if a little surprised, to see him. When they're all getting ready, Nicky reaches for a sabre instead of his foil, and Joe smiles to himself. So that's how it's going to be.

Andy acts as referee. They claim one of the scoring boxes the second they're both ready, without really talking about it. The first point goes to Nicky, the next two to Joe once he's gotten used to it again after so long away. By the fifth, he's grinning under his mask, breathless with both the exertion and the joy of getting to fence again.

On the sixth point, after a particularly forceful lunge, his ankle twinges. He grits his teeth against the ache and keeps going.

By the eighth, his legs are beginning to ache with the strain of staying in guard position so long, something he hasn't had an issue with in years. On the ninth, when he lunges again, his ankle lands wrong - almost similarly to how he'd injured it in the first place - and he can't hide his wince at the pain that lances up his right leg. It takes him too long to recover from that lunge after Andy calls halt, and when he stands up properly, he has to lean heavily on his left leg.

"Joe?" Andy asks. "Everything okay?"

Joe wants to tell her yes, he just needs a moment, but then he takes a step forward and it's agonising. He hisses in pain. Andy and Nicky exchange a look.

"Maybe you should take a moment, Joe," Nicky suggests. It's a perfectly reasonable thing to say. It only serves to make Joe even more frustrated with himself.

He takes off his mask and disconnects himself from the scoring box without another word. The white light goes off and beeps repeatedly, but he ignores it, taking off his glove and unplugging his sword as he walks over to the corner where he'd left his bag. He leaves his sword, glove and helmet in a small pile and walks out of the gym, aware he's limping as he does. Someone turns off the scoring box.

The night air is cool against his skin. He unzips his jacket halfway and closes his eyes, fighting frustrated tears.

This shouldn't be so difficult. And he shouldn't be reacting this way. He'd known there was a risk of aggravating his ankle before it had fully healed, had known that six months was a little too early, but he had largely ignored it, because he'd missed fencing like a lost limb. And now, even after fencing for as long as he has, he can't even hold guard position for a full bout anymore. His ankle twinges. He shifts his weight to lean more heavily on his left.

The door swings open with a metallic squeal. Joe doesn't turn to look, worried that if he says anything he'll break down completely, and he doesn't need any of the others seeing him like this.

"Joe. Are you okay?" Nicky asks, and that's almost worse, because Joe has known Nicky for a while and likes him just fine but they're not really friends, not outside of fencing at least. Joe knows he's a foilist, that he trained in Italy for a long time before moving to the UK, and that he doesn't like talking about Italy for reasons he's never explained and Joe has never asked about. He doesn't even know what Nicky's job is. They just don't really talk about that kind of thing, and yet now here he is.

Joe rubs his eyes. "Yeah," he says, sounding entirely unconvincing.

"You know," Nicky says carefully. "It's not the end of the world, Joe. It just takes time."

"It's been six months, Nicky. I can't even hold guard position anymore."

"You have to work up to it," Nicky says.

"I know," Joe snaps. "I just - I don't know what I was thinking, okay? I just wanted to be able to fence again." I hadn't realised how much I missed it until I couldn't do it anymore, he doesn't say. He turns to look at Nicky instead, who's still in all his kit, collar half open, his hair tied back loosely. He's grown it out since Joe's been gone. He's looking at Joe like he's going to break down at any minute.

"What do you want to do?" Nicky asks, instead of trying to offer any more advice. Which. Joe hadn't really expected that.

"I don't know." Joe looks up at the sky and blinks a few times. All he knows is that he doesn't really want to go back inside. "Home, maybe, but I usually get a lift with Book, and…" He trails off.

"I can drive you," Nicky says. "If that's what you want."

Joe stares at him, surprised. "You - really? We've barely even gotten started, you'd be leaving so early."

Nicky shrugs. "Don't worry about me. Do you want to go home?"

Joe doesn't reply for a moment, but then sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Okay," Nicky says. "Wait out here, I'll get your stuff. If that's okay."

It is, so Joe nods, and Nicky disappears back inside the gym. A few moments later, he reappears with Joe's bag slung over one shoulder and his car keys in hand. "Let's go," he says.

The drive back to Joe's apartment is largely silent, apart from Joe's occasional directions. When Nicky pulls up outside Joe's building, Joe doesn't get out of the car straight away. Doesn't even really realise that they've stopped until Nicky says, gently, "Joe. We're here."

"Hm?" Joe says, turning to look at him. "Oh. Right." He doesn't move.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Nicky asks.

Joe thinks if he talks about it he'll break down. "No."

"Are you going to be okay, then? On your own? Because it's okay if not-"

"I'll be okay, Nicky," Joe says, even if he's not entirely sure about that. "You can go back to the others if you want." He reaches to undo his seatbelt. "Thank you for the lift, though. I mean it."

"Joe, wait," Nicky says. When Joe does, he pulls a scrap of paper and a pen from the glovebox and scribbles something down, leaning against the dashboard. He holds it out to Joe, who takes it. "If you do want to. Talk about it, that is."

Joe looks down at the paper in his hand. It's a phone number - Nicky's. He tucks it into the back pocket of his breeches. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, again." He closes the door and walks towards his building door, looking back over his shoulder only once to see Nicky, still parked on the sidewalk, looking back at him. He smiles softly when Joe meets his eyes.

Joe looks away, his head down, and walks inside.

[books-and-catears]

Hi! If requests are open could i request the brothers with a teen MC who's stressed about school?

When they come home they immediately throw themselves to bed, they often have headaches, they become more cold and distant, they often have a hard time submitting homework on time and they're not as lively as they originally were. How would the brothers comfort them?

I'm so fucking tired rn, i know it's the last month (even tho It's more like 15 days) but my teachers are starting a new important project where we have to host an EVENT along with our exam that is coming up in a week. And we're in fucking highschool-

Aw I think I accidentally opened my asks again but I read this and I relate so much to this; I needed this as much as you. Being a student is too hard sometimes. *hugs* Sorry sweetie you must be so exhausted too?

I'll definitely write this. I apologize if it's a bit short but thank you so much for this ask. I'll try and do my best okay?

Exam season has just rolled out in Devildom and Diavolo had recently announced that the Exchange students will not have a reduced syllabus and have to study like the rest of the demons, to get a better understanding of their culture and history. This sudden increase in work hasn't been easy on you.

Lucifer

He notices something off with you when you stop telling him leave his paperwork and get some rest. These days it seems he has to pull you away from your work.

He can see how dull and lifeless your eyes look as you try to politely sit through meals with everyone.

"MC do you have some time to talk?" He asks you one day in the middle of homework. "I'm a little busy Lucifer maybe later. I still have finish three more these essays." Wow how the tables turn.

He was planning to have tea with you, but as you usually leave the tea near him when he's working, he did the same. "Don't worry MC I'll take care of this." He whispers to himself.

You're only a child, why are you being so overworked? This is ridiculous. Immediately takes it up with Diavolo and the authorities at school to make sure you're not given more than you can handle.

Mammon

What do you mean you're not up for movie night? Again? This is the fifth time you've denied him. Mammon starts getting worried about you.

At first he's afraid that maybe you're only mad at him so he asks his brothers who you are spending time with. You are nowhere to be found in any of their rooms.

He reaches your room and finds you curled up in bed, groaning in pain, holding your head. "MC what's wrong?" You manage to squeak out, "Head hurts." It looks really bad from the way you're wincing.

He goes into panic overdrive, going up to Satan and Lucifer, even ringing up Solomon for headache cures. After you get a little better, he found out that it's school stress that's doing this to you.

Godamnit Diavolo! Why would you think it's okay to send a little human to Demon school? They work differently don't they. He will volunteer to do most of your work at school- even though he forgets his own.

Leviathan

Levi was excitedly waiting for you to show up to play his new game. It was the usual routine for you to come back from school, freshen up and then join him gaming four days a week. But you haven't showed up. For the third time this week.

He keeps texting and calling you but don't reply. At first he thinks it's because he's a yucky otaku but then he notices you aren't even getting his messages. So he ventures out of his room and finds you in yours.

You were fast asleep in your uniform, your phone switched off due to low battery, your bed unmade and your bag in a slump on the floor. You look like a game character who got defeated in a fight.

When he hears it is the school stress that is doing this to you, he adamantly hatches a plan. "Levi we have school why anime now?" You ask as he drags you to his room.

"Because you need a energy recharge! So I told Lucifer you'll be staying with me all day and watch your favourite anime." Levi said, handing you a bunch of snacks.

Satan

This is the ninth day in a row you had fallen asleep in the library. Yes Satan was counting. Everytime he finds you, you're curled up in a chair with a heavy bookon your lap and your notebook and pens strewn across a nearby table. Overdue assignments.

"Oh MC again?" He mutters as he puts his jacket on you so you don't get cold. When was the last time you read a book with him? You seem so busy and distant these days. He noticed the way you kept denying all his brothers hence he didn't approach you himself. Now he understood why.

Diavolo must be barking mad in his head if he thinks an adolescent human can work the same way as age old demons. He feels annoyed at how you're being overwhelmed.

You wake up to him sitting next to you, writing down your assignments. "Satan why..." Satan smiles and palms your head, "You need to rest, you've been working too hard. I'll handle the assignments, you sleep some more, I'm taking you to a cat cafe later. Playing with cats will help you feel relaxed."

Asmodeus

Asmo notices the redness in your sunken eyes on the very next day after you pull an all-nighter. He offers you to come to his room but you decline saying you have to prepare for upcoming exams.

He finds it increasingly hard to keep his mouth shut and leave you alone when you look like this. Your skin is breaking out, your cheeks are sinking. You're starting to look like Lucifer.

Look at how school is ruining you! You are only a baby and yet you're starting look a workaholic corporate worker.

One day he's had enough with your lack of self-care and he drags you to his room. You try telling him off "Asmo I have exams-" He snaps back at you angrily, "Today is your day off whether you like it or not. I will not have you mistreating yourself like this. Now come on we're doing a home spa."

Beelzebub

Everything seems wrong. You aren't eating well. And today you look like you're about to pass out while eating dinner. He can't eat when you're like this - he doesn't want your leftovers anymore.

You try to smile at him, "I'm okay Beel. I'm just not very hungry." He isn't buying it but you leave so suddenly he couldn't say anything. You seemed to brush people off and be on your own these days.

He noticed you skip the lunchline at school to scurry off to a lonely table to finish up some work. He gets an extra plateful of food and sets it down next to you.

"Beel I said I'm not hungry." You try to say but Beel is having none of it. He snatches your stuff away. "School can wait, you need nourishments to work. I won't let you work before you eat all of this, MC."

Belphegor

This is heavily annoying to him. He sees you running out of your room, sneaking into the library to study at 3 AM in the night. Did you just wake up and decide not to sleep ever again?

When he tries to approach you about this, you act snappy and cold towards him. He doesn't mind - he understands why you're like this. He's grumpy half the time when he doesn't get to sleep either.

As if he needed more reason to resent Diavolo. Not only did he drag you down from Earth and now's he overworking you in school. Is this supposed to help somehow? Cause the only thing this has done is reduce the smiley chirpy MC to Lucifer version 2.0

One day he sees fall head first onto the floor as you try to flee your room. You stumble and shake as you try to get up again. "Okay that's it. Enough of this." Belphie appears and takes you back to your room, throwing you on the bed. "Belphie I'm fine I just need to finish-"

"You need to finish your sleep. I thought humans had better self-preservation than this. You will not get out of bed until you've caught up on your sleep" He tucks you in bed and stays there until you fall fast asleep.