#look I logically know it’s just the house settling paired with the unsettling quiet of the cold weather

[femme-enby]

I love havin the house to myself, downside tho is that when it gets colder the house starts settling again for the season (change in temp makes house expand/contract accordingly & we are having our first freeze warning) and since I also have an overactive imagination…

Well. With my overactive imagination I’ve always had moments where I thought I saw something out the corner of my eye while in movement, like turning in the kitchen and thinking I saw something by the table or down the hall, plus I am always anxious that I might actually see something down the hall, especially when I’m recording a video and the hallway happens to be in view…

So odd noises, plus overactive imagination…

Means I got my partner snoring on the phone and plans to do a deep check of the house tomorrow during the day.

But also I’ve seen videos of people supposedly living in people’s attics unbeknownst to the homeowners so… I’m goin up there and checking every room with either my baseball bat or one of the swords we got layin around.

Also prepared to give them alternate housing recommendations prior to violence if it means we all leave the situation happy.

[shadowsinger11]

Insomniacs In Love

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Description: Wrote this ficlet for @wand3ringr0s3 's writing challenge. Congrats on your milestone, Haley!! I'm so proud of ya and ily so much girl💕💕

Warnings: Brief descriptions of war

Tags: @spilled-prose @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads

Message me to be added!

Masterlist

The white ceiling was staring right back at you.

Your tired eyes had no strength to fight back the hot trail of bitter tears rolling down your cheeks and falling on your pillow. The heavy, cold sheets, tangled between your legs, shrivelled even more under you as you struggled to ease your anxious mind into sleep, but every blink would bring images of explosions and unmoving bodies. The intrusive smell of blood and rotting flesh had been ingrained into your brain for years; the earsplitting, violent screams of terror had become nothing more than a background noise.

Adults and children were fighting side by side, desperately holding onto whatever hope for a future they might have had. The fresh summer soil was soaked in blood, old and young; with a burning passion, you prayed to whoever could hear you, that you wouldn't spot the faces of your loved ones in the sea of corpses that stretched out far into the distance.

There was chaos, and in between - grim visions of morning light.

You couldn't fall asleep, not when you could still vividly picture that night as though it had just been yesterday. Years later, the memory didn't fail to turn you into its slave every time you'd close your eyes.

The moon was wide awake. The air seemed to not be enough for you and the buzzing silence had nearly driven you to the point of insanity when you finally jumped out of your bed. The sharp moonlight caused your silhouette to dance as you walked barefoot out of your bedroom.

It was eerily unsettling to be strolling down the hallway of Fred and George's apartment without being bombarded by cheerful laughter and occasional explosions - there was only creaking of wooden stairs as you walked down to the kitchen. You poured yourself a full glass of cold water and immediately downed it entirely, hoping it would shake off the anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

You took a refill for just in case and sat beside the small kitchen table. You let out a deep breath and rested your head in your palms, shoulders heavy as if the carried the world.

A gentle voice nearly caused you to knock over the glass.

"Trouble sleeping?"

You looked up from your lap to see George standing by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his pajamas. His spiky hair and sleepy gaze let you know he had just woken up, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed your tearful eyes.

You smiled as best as you could, "You have no idea."

George approached you and sat beside you. He moved closer to try to take a better look at your distressed face; he didn't miss the stiffness of your body and the puffiness of your bloodshot eyes. The sight sent an electric shock through him and his heart began to ache.

"You're pretty shaken up, darling. What's wrong?" He asked just above a whisper, as though he was afraid he'd scare you away. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, seeking some kind of warmth.

How could you explain to him you were still being haunted by the past? It had been years, why were you still chained by sorrow? You hated yourself for letting it settle in your bones, for not being able to return to the person you once used to be.

George was unharmed and so was his family. You were too. There was no logical reason for you to be thinking about it. Nevertheless, your nightmares were the reason you'd wake up every night in cold sweat, limbs of lead. Yet George didn't know a thing.

"It's nothing to worry about," you assured him despite your stomach twisting at the lie you had just spat out. "Just bad dreams."

"You seem to get a lot of those lately," George stated sympathetically; he could always read you so effortlessly. The sudden vulnerability caused you to shrink further into your chair, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek.

Your friend wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and hummed.

"That's alright. So do I."

"How do you know this about me?" you questioned, more confused rather than embarrassed.

His lips curled up in a tiny, sad smile, "You're not the only one wandering the house at night, sweetheart."

"I didn't know you still dream of… of it," you let out in a moment of realization. You didn't have to say what exactly you were referring to - you shared the same tragic memory.

"Yes, I do," he murmured. "Every night."

Your eyes met his dark brown ones and your heart sank; they were just as tortured as yours, and lacked the spark they once possessed. Never had you believed George would have to feign joy in his lifetime, he was the source of joy to everyone around him. But how could you expect flowers to bloom in a garden that's been burned to the ground?

Silence fell over you. Your eyes burned again.

"You should try to get some sleep," George advised, attempting to mask his hoarse voice, shaking ever so slightly. Your face fell. "I know it might be hard, but you can't risk getting a headache in the morning, you know."

The moon was still shining brightly through the window, illuminating his concerned face and the tears that had already formed in his eyes.

You swallowed hard.

"You're right. But I don't really want to go. It's just…" you sighed. Your hands were trembling. "It feels kinda lonely up there."

George nodded in understanding; there was no judgement in the way he observed you. He himself had spent way too many cold, sleepless nights. Fighting the same demons as you. 

It hurt him beyond measure to know you too were being held hostage by the weight of the past; the past which was robbing you both of your future. But what hurt him more was his inability to help you. He desperately yearned to heal you of your misery and hear your laughter, the laughter that had made him fall for you long before he even knew what love was.

The redhead was suddenly struck by an idea and his shoulders relaxed, a small smile causing his dimple to appear.

"I can go to bed with you, if that's okay with you, of course. Only until you fall asleep, that is. Then I'll go back to my room."

Your instinctive reaction was to refuse, but you stopped yourself before you could respond. Surely it wouldn't be so bad to have company, would it? It didn't seem like George was only doing it out of pity either; he genuinely cared about you and had your best interest in mind.

"You can say no, it's fine," said George when he didn't receive a reply. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay with me, I promise," you mirrored his smile. "Shall we go?"

You rose to your feet and headed towards your bedroom upstairs, George following closely behind. He couldn't recall a previous time when he had been in there, and he was pleasantly surprised to see how you had changed the design to your liking after you had moved in to live with the twins. The room looked cozy and truly felt like... you.

You were the first to climb into the bed and scooted over to make room for George's long legs. The mattress sank under his weight and he pulled the covers over the two of you, making sure he didn't take too much of them. George then rolled over to the opposite side, not wishing to invade your personal space.

Despite being taken aback by his action, you did the same - if that was the closest you'd get to being together with him, so be it.

You pulled the blanket over your shoulder and closed your eyes, but alas, your lungs constricted with anxiety. The intrusive silence let your mind wander back to memories you had been trying so hard to push away. The empty space behind your back was cold.

Less than an hour later, you were still as awake as you could be. Your friend was a quiet sleeper and thus you had no idea if he was asleep yet or if he was about to drift off. Nevertheless, you still felt guilty for whispering.

"Georgie?"

Rustling in the bedsheets.

"Hm?"

You wettened your lips and timidly asked, "Can I hold your hand?... For just a bit?"

George turned around and you expected to see him scowl for being woken up like that, especially for a thing as silly as your request. But you were met with such a fond expression, immense care swimming in his eyes.

Any sleepiness was nonexistent on his features; he couldn't fall asleep either.

"Of course," he smiled and lifted your hand to press a tender kiss to your wrist. His soft lips stayed there, pulse racing madly underneath, and the warmth lingered on the skin long after George pulled away and placed your hand on his chest. You let out a quiet gasp when you felt his own heart hammering against his ribs.

His other hand slid down to your waist and pulled you closer. You buried your face in his neck.

You could finally breathe.

He began tracing lazy patterns on your lower back. "Better?"

"Better."

George's fingers lightly grazed your skin, slow and gentle touch never once stopping its loving path. Drowsiness welcomed you much sooner than you had expected and your eyes fluttered closed. The last thing you remembered was George's lips on your eyelids.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep your demons at bay at least for just one night. George gave into slumber as well, both of you engulfed by divine serenity until the bright moon hid behind the horizon.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[brilliantt]

Mouse - part two

Summary: Maggie Shelby isn’t like her brothers or sister, being quiet and studious she often struggles to fit in. When money gets stolen and she is accused will she stick around and continue to be an outcast in her family? 

A/N: thanks so much for the support on the first part! In part two we see Maggie’s relationship with her twin Finn, the two are 17 atm. Also Tommy is being a prick, sorry! :P Let me know what you think!!

-PREVIOUS-

From a young age Finn and Maggie were close. Being a lot younger than their siblings they had no choice but to play together, even if they could never decide on what to play. While Maggie preferred playing with her dolls or marbles, Finn always had the deciding vote- he was of course the older sibling by five minutes! And so, Maggie was coerced time and time again to play Finn’s favourite (and subsequently her worst) game: cops and robbers. Finn was as quick as Maggie was slow. This is why the twins realised Maggie could never be the robber, because Finn could catch her in less than a minute. Maggie never knew why Finn had always insisted on playing the game; it always ended the same. She would spend so long trying to catch him and he would dodge her every time with ease, then Maggie would get annoyed that she couldn't get him, going off in a huff and refusing to play a minute longer. Then, her refusal would cause finn in return to get mad. A quiet dinner with exchanged glares would follow. And finally peace is restored when Finn sneaks into her room with a couple of stolen biscuits because they could never stay mad at each for long. 

It was often they butt heads but that was because they had spent so much time together. It was safe to say they were each other's first best friend. As they got older, however, the more different they became. Finn had always been an outgoing child, something which stayed with him. He enjoyed partying and drinking and smoking. Maggie preferred to keep to herself and rarely went out at night. During the day Finn could be seen becoming more active in the family business whereas Maggie was in school. It was rare that their paths ever crossed. 

It was just by chance therefore that on the Thursday afternoon just before Maggie finished school, that Finn had been sent to collect money from a house just around the corner from the school building. And just by chance that as he had finished up and was about to walk home, he saw his sister surrounded by a bunch of boys her age and being pushed to the ground by one of them.

---

At school Maggie was alone. She found it difficult to talk to anyone other than her brothers, meaning that she couldn't make friends. Not forgetting that no one wanted to befriend her, lest they got caught up in the unfortunate Shelby 'business’. It was easier when Finn went to school but since he left, Maggie was truly alone. She didn't mind too much because it meant that she could focus on her school work without distraction. 

It wasn't until very recently that she was bothered at school. Whilst people left her alone in fear of her brothers, one foolhardy boy, William Kegley, did not heed this warning. From what Maggie could understand, William’s brother had done something bad to the Blinders leading him to get cut. William wasn’t stupid enough to go after her brothers which left him to target the youngest Shelby girl. It had started with harsh stares and hair tugging which turned to spitted whispers telling her to ‘watch her back’ when the teacher wasn't looking. 

Maggie didn't know what to expect, she had never been threatened before. To what extent of revenge did William want? Logically killing her would make everything even - a sibling for a sibling - but Maggie didn't think William had the stomach for that, he was always more gentle than his brother. Maggie knew that she should tell one of her brothers or even Aunt Polly, however, she also knew this would mean William would end up in the same fate as his brother and Maggie never wanted to be the cause of something like that. So she did what she did best: hide. The final bell would ring and Maggie would hide in an empty classroom, peeking out the window where William and a few of his friends hung around smoking. Maggie waited and waited, until they got bored and assumed she had already left. Only after they had disappeared did Maggie leave. For three days this seemed to work. Until Thursday.

Maggie was hiding as usual, watching the boys smoke. Normally she would have to wait another 20 minutes. Today however the classroom door opened to reveal her English teacher who had forgotten his book on the desk. Unfortunately for Maggie she couldn't think of an excuse in time so he escorted her out telling her to go home. With only one exit from the school, she now had no option but to stick it up and wished that William was bluffing. With a deep breath she straightened her back, hoping she looked at least a bit confident. She barely made it halfway.

They formed a circle around her, with her and William in the centre. Every time Maggie edged back, someone would push her back. She kept her gaze down, only looking up when William hit the books from her arms onto the floor. They scattered about onto the grimy pavement. The boys cheered, some leaving boot marks on the papers. Maggie locked eyes with William, the sounds around her blocked out, she tried to keep her breathing even but she could feel her throat closing. William reached forward, too quick for Maggie to even flinch, and gripped her chin. “If it weren’t for you Shelbys, my brother would still be alive.” Everything about William’s face cried anger; his blonde eyebrows were furrowed, his teeth snarling and nostrils flared. His eyes couldn't keep up though, for they expressed a deep hurt, and a compassionate Maggie felt her lips trembling when she looked into them. “I’m sorry,” She whispered, “I.. I didn’t know anything, please.” Two eyes pleaded at each other. Maggie could see turmoil William faced. She didn't know him very well but she knew he never joined in on the playground fights and she had once seen him comfort a tear stained girl when the boys had stolen her doll. He was gentle by nature but he was a Small Heath boy and the jeering from the boys around him filled his mind with anger.  With a shake of his head, he pressed both hands on Maggie's chest and shoved her to the ground. Tears rushed to her eyes as her head smacked the concrete. William hovered over her but his eyes widened when an enraged shout was heard.

Pushing his way through, Finn knelt beside his sister checking if she was alright. It was rare for Finn to get angry so Maggie worried when she saw the look in his eyes. He put himself chest to chest with Willaim, not breaking eye contact with him when he said, “Everyone else better get the fuck away from here.” He pulled his Peaky cap further onto his head as a warning. The cowardly boys scattered, leaving William and Finn in a standoff. As soon as Maggie saw Finn’s hand hovering over his gun, she stood up, ignoring the pain in her head, and gently gripped his arm. “Finn”, he turned towards her, seeing her shake her head. He clenched his jaw and frowned. His gaze stayed on his sister but he spoke to William, “You better piss off now, and stay the fuck away from her.” William looked like he was about to say something but then decided against it and began to walk away, taking one last glance at Maggie, until the twins could no longer see him.

Silence settled between the two as they began picking up the papers and books. Finn being quiet always unsettled Maggie. They stared at each other both holding their share. “How’s your head?” He questioned, remembering the harshness of her fall. He waited for her answer but could tell by the way her eyebrows furrowed that she wasn’t listening to him. 

“Please don’t tell Tommy.” Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. “He’ll send the boys out on him and you know how I feel about that, please Finn.” The request was a long shot and Maggie knew that as she asked it. Finn always reported back to Tommy- seeking his approval. The chances he would listen were slim, especially in a situation where she got hurt, and as he raised his eyebrow, choosing to remain silent, her shoulders slumped.

“Come on.” He said, taking the books she was carrying and adding to his own pile. The two walked home together, with Maggie hoping that Finn would listen to her for once.

---

“Tommy wants to see yeh in his office.” It was Polly who had found her. Maggie had taken to lying on her bed. She had tried to do some schoolwork but the persistent pounding of her head made it futile. Maggie felt dread in her stomach at her Aunt’s words. She just knew Finn would rat her out, the bastard. “I know you’re not sleeping. Don’t want to leave his highness waiting.” 

And so Maggie found herself in front of the door leading to her brother’s office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice and peaked her head through the door. “You wanted to see me Tommy?”

“Sit.” Maggie shuffled in and placed herself in the chair opposite Tommy. The man took out a cigarette and began smoking it, leaning back in his chair to stare at the girl. A few minutes passed and Maggie knew Tommy was waiting for her to speak first. They were both as stubborn as each other though, and Maggie had already decided that she wouldn’t speak before him. His gaze was piercing through her but she knew if she didn't look in his eyes, she wouldn't cave. 

Tommy sighed and Maggie watched him press his cigarette into the tray. “I want you,” he pointed at her, “to tell me the name of the boy that pushed you.” 

“What?” Maggie brows rose. 

“Finn said he didn’t know the boy’s name. I want you to tell me it.” Despite still feeling annoyed at her twin, Maggie felt a rush of gratefulness towards him, because Finn definitely did know William’s name.

“No.” the word struggled out of her mouth. She always found speaking up to Tommy difficult. The pair of them were very similar in nature, both quiet, rather serious, observant and more. Polly often said they were the same ducks on different ponds. While Maggie was gentle, Tommy was rough. They rarely argued and respected each other. After the war Tommy never really had much time for her, and now since Grace's death he was more angry and less forgiving. “I don’t want you to do anything. Everything’s fine.”

 He also never seemed to listen.

“No, it’s not fine. What if Finn wasn’t there, eh? What would you have done?”

Maggie fidgeted in her seat, avoiding his eyes. “It’s over now, he won’t do it again.” she muttered. 

“And what about the next time? A different boy shoves you and we’re not here, what will you do?” Her headache was returning and Maggie blamed the tears on her eyes on that.  “We’re targeted in this business Maggie, you especially. You’re the weak link, an easy target. So what will you do hmm?” Her lips wobbled. She knew she was weak; she was timid and did not like confrontation but hearing her older brother tell it to her face made her feel bad. 

Tommy didn't stop, “Say someone pulled a gun on you,” suddenly he pointed his gun at Maggie. “What will you do?” She flinched and whimpered in her seat, her face turning white. Tommy sighed, lowering the gun. His icy glare wanted her,  “you need to get stronger, learn how to fight back.”

“Maybe,” Maggie’s voice wobbled, “maybe you should stop doing things that put us in danger.” She was angry at Tommy and felt embarrassed from his actions. “They were only bothering me because of something you did.” 

Tommy seemed taken aback but once again he never listened. His brain was wracking information on who the blinders had cut recently. “It was the Kegley boy, wasn’t it?” She shot her head up, the reaction telling Tommy his assumption was right. 

“Tommy, I don't think I could ever forgive you if you do something to him.” Her words held strength but her body felt weak. She truly feared what Tommy would do. 

Tommy clenched his jaw and stared. “I can worry about your forgiveness later.” He took out another cigarette and lit it, Maggie’s nose twitching at the smell. “You’ll meet Arthur at the boxing ring after school tomorrow. He’s going to teach you how to defend yourself.” Maggie was about to protest when Tommy slammed his hand on the desk, finalising his decision. He motioned for Maggie to leave and started reading some of his papers. 

“I will only go if you swear you won’t hurt William.” Maggie pleaded. Tommy raised his eyebrows to look at her, a bored expression visible. “Please, Tommy, I never asked you for anything in my life. I'm asking you for this one thing, please!” 

“You will go with Arthur tomorrow.” He repeated, returning to his paperwork. Maggie felt defeated. “I will leave Kegley alone but if he tries anything again you don’t have a say, understand?” A sigh of relief was audible through the room. Maggie nodded and began to leave the room. She reached the door and turned back around to look at her brother working. 

“Tommy?” He huffed and inclined his head for her to continue. “If.. If someone pulled a gun on me” Maggie gulped, “I would die.” she closed the door gently behind her. For the next hour Tommy stared at it deep in thought, his cigarette burnt out in his hand. 

---

Maggie struggled falling asleep that night. Her headache had gone but her head pounded with images of William dead on the floor. Her bedroom door creaked open slowly, the head of her twin peering through. He climbed onto her bed, both of them sitting against the headboard, and handed her some biscuits. They nibbled on them and for the first time, Maggie broke the silence, “Is this really what you want Finn? All this violence and the.. the constant fear of dying?” she stared straight ahead, “There must be something more.”

“People like us don't get more, Maggie.” She turned to look at him, he had already finished his biscuits and was eyeing Maggie’s.  

“People like us?”

“Working class. No parents.” He counted on his fingers, “Gypsies. It’s like there's a ladder and we’re stuck on the first step.” He rubbed his hand against his tired eyes. “And yet we’re the lucky ones because there are people like Isiah who aren't even allowed on that first step.”

Maggie’s face twitched as she thought about what Finn said. “We’re both still at the bottom of the ladder Finn.” She handed him one of her biscuits, “I want more than this.”

-NEXT-

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Seventy-Five: In the Shade ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina, blood ] [ Verse: To Rule Them All ] [ AO3 Link ] 

It’s been several weeks since the attempt on Hinata’s life. The night her sworn protector - a knight of the house Uchiha - took a blade in her stead. Stopping the would-be assassin in the dark of her chambers, he let steel pierce his side to save her, having followed his instincts that despite the decade-old truce...something was amiss.

No one believed him...but he’d learned long ago to trust his gut.

Though deep, the wound wasn’t fatal, but still relieved him of his ability for several weeks as he was kept bound and stitched, the castle healer insisting he take time to let his body recuperate.

He, in turn, insisted he’d taken a vow to protect her every waking moment. The healer rebuked that he could hardly do so while wounded, and would heal faster - and thus return to her side - if he had a little patience.

“Honestly, you sort are all the same,” she’d gently chided, changing his bandages yet again. “Too eager to get yourself into another fight. Your sword and your shield are not your only tools, knight. So too is your body a part of your arsenal. Would you go into battle with a cracked blade, or a splintered shield? If not...you must apply the same logic to your form. Allow it time to mend...so that it may serve you, and not falter. Her ladyship is still guarded. Worry not.”

“How can I not worry when it was my suspicion and act alone that saved her?” he’d grunted, teeth clenching at the sting of air against the parted flesh. “Those with her now refused to believe me…”

“Well, I’m certain they’ll believe you now, after what you did. You saved the princess’ life, you did. No one’s about to forget that any time soon, nor doubt you. All you need now is a little patience, and a little mending...and you’ll be back where you belong.”

Still unsatisfied, Sasuke merely sighed, allowing her to work unfettered. The orders to rest were...irksome, but he knew she was right. His body is, indeed, his most valuable asset. Returning to Hinata when still unwhole would only mean he’d be less able to defend her.

So...he’s been exercising patience as best he can.

Today, he’s finally allowed outside, the healer warning him to keep his bandages unsoiled and his movement to a minimum. So, he’s settled on a bench in the princess’ private garden, in the shade of a wide-crowned tree. The leaves are beginning to turn, a few dancing in gentle breezes along the path. Autumn...Summer is over, and soon Winter will grip the kingdom. And Hinata has yet to acquiesce to a husband. Surely by Spring, Hiashi will finally lose his patience. It’s been nearly a year since she was declared suitable to be courted...and with Sasuke’s help, she’s evaded her suitors.

But the last - tied to the coup - has set the entire castle on edge. Hiashi has, for the moment, cancelled all other meetings with prospective suitors until his daughter’s knight is healed, and she better protected. That, at least, will buy them a little more time.

Staring up into the amber and crimson leaves, Sasuke lets his eyes close as a wind weaves through his hair. He has, by now, realized that his actions to shelter Hinata from her suitors is no longer purely to follow her wishes. He dreads seeing her wed, because...well, because he loves her, as foolish as that may be. Though Hinata alluded to a knight garnering the honor to befit marrying a princess, he’s unsure if he could ever do so to a point Hiashi would approve of. And even now, he still doubts if Hinata’s attachment has grown as strong as his own.

...and he doesn’t want to shatter what they have: an absolute trust. If he were open with what he felt, and she did not feel the same...surely it would change things between them forever.

So, he keeps such thoughts to himself, despite mulling them over and over again when there’s quiet, such as now.

Fate, however, isn’t keen to leave him alone for too long.

“So...released you, have they?”

Declining his head and opening his eyes, there’s a momentary flutter to his chest as Hinata enters the garden. “...for the moment. The healer insists I’m not quite ready for duty, yet. But I had to get some fresh air, or I’d run mad.”

That earns a soft laugh. “I’m sure...you’re unused to being so cooped up. But I’m happy to hear you’re healing well. I know she was rather concerned at the depth of the wound, but...she works miracles, that woman.” Reaching him, Hinata takes a dainty seat at his side. “...I’ve not had a chance to thank you properly.”

“There’s nothing to thank, my lady. I did as I am sworn to do, and am honored to do. You know I would repeat my actions in a heartbeat. My life is yours.”

Expression unreadable, Hinata’s eyes flicker between his own, as though...looking for something. “...it’s been rather lonely without you. The other guards they’ve given me, well...they aren’t you. In almost any form, really. I...miss our talks.”

“...as do I. But I’ll be back at your side soon. We need only be patient.”

“...very well.”

For a time, the pair lapse into a companionable silence: something they’ve had much of during the past year they’ve known one another. But something, he can tell, is weighing on her mind.

“...are you all right, my lady?”

Staring out into the rest of the garden, she doesn’t at first reply. But then pale eyes turn to see him, betraying the worry she feels. “...I have been...unsettled as of late.”

“Why is that?”

“...at first, I thought it the change after so long: not having you by my side. And while that has been true...there’s something else. Something...that was not, at first, clear to me. But…” Her gaze drops to her lap, forlorn. “...I have known, since I met you, that you would lay down your life for mine. It was something I had to accept from the beginning. And yet...these past months, you have become such a staple part of my life. Like...an extension of my arm. I feel as though, were I to lose you...I would forever be missing a part of myself.”

Watching her quietly, Sasuke has no reply.

“...when you...countered that assassin, in my quarters...I was scared. But...not the way I thought I would be. Not for myself. When I saw you were wounded - when I saw your blood free of your veins where it belongs - I was so afraid. Afraid that I was to lose you. And in that moment, I rebelled against the idea so thoroughly, so completely...I realized I would never forgive myself if you did exchange your life for mine.”

“...but my lady, that is my purpose. It would be my honor to -”

“Please…!”

Her interjection is so terse, so full of refusal, that he stops mid-word. All at once, she’s tensed and shaking, expression pinched with emotion.

“...please. I...I know what you swore. I know that you would uphold your oath without a second thought, just as you did that night. But Sasuke, I…” Looking to him, she startles him with tears beaded along her lids. “...I can no longer abide by it. I realize now that I...I care for you too much to see you risk your life for mine. Because I...I think…” The words seem to weigh on her tongue, held for a moment in hesitation. “...I think I may be in love with you.”

Shock slackens his features, staring as she lowers her eyes back to the skirts of her gown. She…?

“...I realize I may be speaking out of turn. But...never in my life have I been able to trust someone as I have you. Confide in someone. Felt...listened to, and seen…! To you, I am not simply a princess. Not just a bloodline, a pretty face, a...a vessel for an heir! I am a person, unique and my own. And you...you see that. I know you do, after all we’ve exchanged. And to me...that is worth more than any mountain of gold, any pristine castle, any status…”

She takes a moment to sigh, shoulders wilting. “...perhaps I am a fool grasping at something I...do not understand. If I am alone in this, then...please, tell me swiftly, and I will never again speak of it. But I could not bear that within myself a moment longer. Not when you may be taken from me, one way or another. Forgive me if this leaves you unsettled. Know that...you may reject me, and face no consequence. For I could not -”

“Hinata…”

Her words cease on a dime, not daring to look to him until his hand guides her face to see him. But rather than discomfort or rejection...she sees a soft and weary smile.

“...I will admit, I do not think myself worthy of you. Nor, I imagine, would anyone else. But...you are not alone in your feelings. I fear mine have festered for longer than yours, with your eyes so newly opened. I too feared them misplaced, a knight daring to feel affection for a princess. But you put my heart at ease, knowing I am not the only of us feeling this way. All that is left to fear...is what will happen should we admit it to anyone else.”

Though bright-eyed at his own confession, Hinata wilts at his last words. “...I don’t know. I...I can’t know what my father would think. If I am to be honest, I had hoped your actions would lift you in his eyes...has he spoken to you?”

“No...to you?”

“...not yet. I believe the incident still has him unsettled. Perhaps...we could speak to him. But I fear, should he reject the notion, it would mean him parting us forever, finding such an attachment inappropriate if we were not instead permitted to wed. I do not know what to do…”

Sighing softly, Sasuke tries to think. “...for now...perhaps it is best we remain silent. Your father is clearly still shaken, and...I am still not quite myself. I may speak to my brother and seek his wisdom. He may have an inkling of what we should do, and would not betray us.”

“...you are right. Then...I will try to be patient.”

“As will I. If you could, send him to me when he has a moment. I know the court keeps him busy.”

“I’m sure he would make time for his brother.” Somber hesitation pulls at her features. “...I hope we can find a way.”

“As do I. But, until then...I am still your knight, and you still my princess. We must act as such. And I will not sully your honor by courting you unapproved. For now...we must restrain ourselves.”

“...I agree. Even if it will test my patience as never before.”

That earns a soft laugh. “A queen must be well-versed. Consider it an exercise in restraint, my lady.”

Hinata gives a hint of a pout. “...for you, I will do it.”

“...then so shall I.”

                                                          .oOo.

      (This is a sequel to days 67, 109, 212, 220, and 236!)      Finally some more of the princess and her knight verse! I've missed this one, it's one of my favorites lol      Poor Sasuke, still healing up after that nasty stab wound...but at least he's pulling through all right. He just needs to be patient...both of them, actually. Will Hiashi actually accept their feelings and allow them to wed...? Only one way to find out, I suppose...and we'll have to wait for a good prompt to get there x3 Sorryyy~      Anywho, it's very late, I'm very tired, and I'd best sign off. Thanks for reading!

[awesomehoggirl]

rooftops | chapter one

it’s one of those things that’s known, not taught: everyone has a soulmate, just like everyone breathes and sleeps and has a heart beating in their chest. their name is written on your wrist and it’s up to you to find them from there - but you will, of course. everyone does.

...well, everyone except virgil. everyone in the world, except virgil webb, has a soulmate.

did the universe slip and miss a spot? does life just absolutely hate him? virgil doesn’t know, but he sure would like to.

(in which virgil ignores, hates, detests and loves the empty space on his wrist.)

pairings: prinxiety, logicality, one-sided moxiety warnings: swearing, angst, unrequited crush, bullying, sympathetic deceit (he’s a toddler with a corn snake) chapter two | chapter three | ao3

chapter one: patton moretti is far too sweet

virgil’s wrist was blank. at first, he really didn’t mind.

because when you’re a kid, you just don’t care about the future. when you’re young, applesauce and milk are the only things that matter. don’t know what you’re going to be? who gives a shit! here, crawl around in a box of sand for three hours and you’ve filled your quota for the day. do babies just sit up in the middle of naptime and go ‘woah, oh man, i better start looking for collages or i’ll end up working in retail for the rest of my life!’ then start chewing anxiously on their tiny baby nails whilst considering their degree? no they do not! goddamn it, why couldn’t it stay like that? why couldn’t he just salivate and cry for the rest of his life? why’d he have to get smart?

virgil webb didn’t remember the day he looked at his blank wrist and realised what it really, truly, actually meant in the grand scheme of things. he remembered his mother’s gentle smile and her tortured eyes as she stroked his pale little forearm on the night of his sixth birthday. he didn’t remember what his response was when she started crying.

he didn’t remember.

at some point, though, he learned and acknowledged that he had no name on his wrist: ergo, he had no soulmate, ergo, he was alone for life. did he sink into a depression at the tender age of six, give or take a couple of days? no he did not! he was six! all he cared about was batman and fingerpainting! he probably realised he would die alone, shrugged it off, and went downstairs to push a vase off the table or something.

virgil had a friend - patton moretti, a small, freckly kid with a mess of dark brown curls, two years his senior, who lived next door. their houses were barely a metre apart. if he stood on his windowsill, opened his window and reached, his fingertips could brush the brickwork of the other house. it was comforting.

he and patton were a classic duo. the former was shy and timid whilst the latter was outgoing and lovable - they made a great team. together, they chased cats through fields and climbed trees then fell out of them and conquered the woods in their name, as best friends do.

‘i don’t have... any words on my wrist,’ virgil admitted once, nestled into the crook of a tree.

‘oh, that’s cool,’’ said patton, hanging upside-down from a branch. ‘let’s go look for fairies by the lake!’

they went to different schools but they were closer than brothers, two peas in a pod, and they would stay that way regardless of what it said (or rather, didn’t say) on their wrists. so, for kid virgil, everything was pretty darn great. he had patton and his parents and a gigantic book about bats to read at bedtime, who needed a soulmate?

unfortunately, virgil was not bitten by a vampire or cursed (blessed?) to remain a child for life. instead he did as kids generally do and grew up into a quiet eleven-year-old who soon traded the fingerpaints for a neat little set of colouring pencils. he wore oversized hoodies and didn’t raise his hand in class, so nobody at school found out about his…soulmate-less-ness. there, he was just a shy art kid - a slightly moody, very normal art kid, not really a people-person, as his mother loved to say, a self-declared outcast, not a forced one. older-but-still-young virgil was pretty happy.

until a girl saw his empty wrist during p.e one lesson.

did this girl stop to consider virgil’s feelings before opening her mouth to the entire school? hell no! this was middle school - a juicy piece of gossip was like an instant popularity potion! the truth came out, and the kids in his class, as kids generally do, decided to bully virgil mercilessly from that moment on.

he’d never had reason to consider himself as deformed or wrong before. his parents were supportive, patton was great, and he himself didn’t really mind being different. but now, here, kids were afraid of him. kids took one look at him and assumed he was some kind of freak. kids would avoid him and whisper about him and stay away from him, all because he didn’t have a name on his wrist.

‘you don’t have one because nobody loves you,’ one faceless kid called out to him one lunchtime, before scampering away to snicker at him from afar. virgil had never thought about it like that before.

he decided that he didn’t need a soulmate anyway, and that all the other kids in his school were lame and boring, and that he didn’t need anyone’s company but his own. nobody wanted to sit with him? he didn’t care. now he had a whole lunch table to himself, cool! he was alone for every group project? great! no annoying partners or lack of contribution on their part. no friends? patton was enough, and he saw him on the weekends, so he was doing fine! yes, virgil was fine, fine, fine. he didn’t want to stupid name or a stupid soulmate or a stupid social life or friends.

and so at ten years old, virgil was no longer fine with his wrist’s stark blankness, no matter how he pretended to be.

one night, a few years later, virgil was staring aimlessly out of the window to avoid at his homework when he spotted patton’s silhouette hunched on the roof, face turned away. something cold and heavy filled virgil’s heart, but he shimmied through the open window onto the broad windowsill anyway and hoisted himself onto the warm slate. crossing the daunting gap between rooves was never fun, but he completed the leap with barely a shiver and lowered himself down behind patton. his chocolate curls were mussed and he held his head in his hands.

‘pat? are you…’ patton swung around, his eyes wet and shining. not for the first time of the late, virgil’s eyes wandered to the words on his honey-dark wrist, and everything fell into place with an unsettling click.

‘that boy,’ virgil whispered, numb with something almost like fear. ‘did you find out his name?’

‘yes,’ breathed patton, trembling. ‘it’s logan. he’s logan. he’s my soulmate.’

they sat in silence for a moment, a warm breeze ruffling their hair as they gazed up at the heather sky, dotted with hazy stars.

‘how’d you find out?’

‘well…’ patton took a deep, shaky breath,

‘i passed him in the corridor as usual and he looked kind of stressed or tired so i said “why do flamingos sleep with one leg up?” and he went “to retain body heat-“ and i yelled “because if they slept with two legs up they would fall over!” and he rolled his eyes and groaned and said “you are the worst person i have ever met-“‘

‘geez, harsh…’

‘and then i said “no, i’m patton!” and he let out this soft little wheeze which he tried to cover up with a cough and my heart was thumping so i was like “are you okay?” and he said really quietly “no, i’m logan” then smacked himself with his chemistry textbook and ran to his next class! and i tried to follow him but he…’ patton paused to gulp for air, his frenzied smile falling a touch, ‘he was gone.’

‘you sure he’s the right logan?’ virgil asked (out of genuine interest, absolutely not false hope).

‘i looked him up in the yearbook, he’s definitely logan lockheart! and he’s my age but in the grade above me, and he’s really really smart and serious, and vee, i’m so… i’m so confused!’ patton hugged his knees, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. virgil nodded slightly in encouragement. he couldn’t quite catch his breath. ‘i like him, i really do, but… i don’t understand. i always thought he’d be… y’know, different. sweet! an animal lover! someone who laughs a lot and likes dog walks on the beach! not… well, him.’

‘aww, pat…’ virgil ran a hopefully comforting hand over patton’s back. ‘he could still be those things, you know. you barely know him.’ or not. there could be a mistake. we could both be soulmateless together.

patton’s lip trembled but he forced a smile. ‘you’re right, vee. assumptions are bad and i shouldn’t have judged him so quickly.’

a mistake. a flaw in the system. maybe logan didn’t have patton’s name on his wrist! it was wrong to hope, evil to hope, but all the same…

pat’s sniffles diminished into a comfortable silence as a dark flush spread across the horizon and the warm tiles below them began to grow colder. the great willow which grew in between their gardens nodded and whispered in the breeze, silhouetted against a rosy sky. something was crumbling in virgil’s chest, some deep-rooted fantasy he’d never acknowledged before.

after a while, patton turned with a gentle smile. ‘the sunset’s lovely, isn’t it?’

‘mmm,’ murmured virgil. he didn’t quite have patton’s eye for beauty, but it certainly was very nice.

‘it’s getting cold, anyway. i’d best be going in. hey! you can come over for dinner if you want! mom’s making our special pasta recipe.’

oh, he wanted to accept. he ached to, to laugh and slip through patton’s window and joke around with his mother and play with his little brother declan, to help put the garlic bread in the oven and to breathe in the heavy scent of woodsmoke and spice, to be part of the beautiful mundanity of the moretti family for just a minute, just a second. through the settling darkness, virgil caught sight of patton’s wrist again. logan lockheart, it read, plain as day.

‘vee? coming?’

‘i…’ virgil swallowed, tears beginning to rise up in his eyes. ‘i have to go. congrats, though. really. it’s great.’

he jumped down onto his windowsill and ducked through the window, pulling the shutters tightly closed.

he might’ve heard the frantic knocking. he might’ve heard his best friend’s gentle voice, confused and afraid, calling out to him. he might’ve heard patton’s mother yell something in italian and the choked-up reply. he might’ve heard patton’s blue converse scraping against the windowframe as he turned away.

it was far easier to pretend he hadn’t.

the next day, virgil would knock on patton’s door, eyes full of tears and stuttered apologies. patton would forgive him, and they’d hug before going indoors. the kitchen would be cozy and cluttered, his mother would ruffle virgil’s hair and offer him a lick of her wooden spoon, declan would be playing with his corn snake under the table. they’d rush into the garden to follow the family cat on its trails, under the hedge and across the brook and into the cool, dark woods. they’d climb a mossy oak, talk awhile, then slip back down to chase bejewelled dragonflies as they flitted idly over the lake. they’d run up the banks and through the fields, fall into the long tufts of grass and lie, dreaming, until the sun sank lower into the sky. they’d return home with armfuls of flowers, which mrs. moretti would gather into an exquisite glass vase and set on the table with dinner. they would eat together under the soft glow of the fairylights, which declan loved. ‘they look like stars,’ the five-year-old would giggle through a mouthful of pasta. everyone would smile.

but for now, virgil threw himself into his pillow and cried himself to sleep.

[kusunogatari]

[ Portal Peril || Chapter Four ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Hatake Kakashi, Utatane Koharu, Mitokado Homura ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

Time is nearly impossible to gauge within Kamui, so when Obito wakes, he has no idea how long he’s slept. All he does know is that the hard stone of his pocket dimension is nowhere near the comfort of his bed at home, body sore after being so tightly curled atop a cube of rock for gods know how many hours.

He wakes slowly, disoriented. His exhaustion from the night before has left him almost completely befuddled. It’s been so long since he’s had access to his chakra, that going so overboard in his attempts to reopen the hole between the dimensions has his head swimming.

For a long moment, he just lies there, awake but not yet moving as he tries to regather his balance. Only once he feels steady does he sit up, looking out over the expanse of cold, unfeeling stone.

...he’d almost forgotten how...lonely it is in here. Though he faced his share of struggles after the fourth war - his stint within Konoha’s jail, and then being a forced roommate of Kakashi’s for six months - since those trials have been over, he’s been a bit spoiled, in a way. He may have lost access to his kekkei genkai and chakra, and had to work odd jobs and odd hours...but he’s had other things he’d either been missing for years...or never had at all. A home: a real one, not just some hovel to hole up in, or Kamui when the need arose. A place to return to every night when his work is done, a bed to sleep in...and someone to sleep beside.

...and now she’s gone.

The sobering thought actually bows his head with a painful cringe. As tired and weary as he is...he can’t stop now. There’s far too much riding on his success. If he can’t find that opening - if he can’t get her back…

...he doesn’t want to think about it.

Instead, he pushes the thought aside as he lurches to his feet, staggering a bit from both fatigue and the soreness in his back at his rather uncomfortable night. But at least he slept...he’s going to need it.

A rush of chakra takes him back to the path outside Konoha, and he glances around the growingly-familiar place. It’s quiet, late morning...he overslept. Hopefully he hasn’t missed many opportunities from the other side to align their portals. Of course...he can’t know that whoever’s on the other side is working as he is, let alone as diligently. He’s assumed that the other Obito - or...whoever managed to connect to Kamui - has been at least considering the possibility of sending Ryū back. They wouldn’t have any reason to keep her.

...would they?

Another thought he doesn’t want to entertain. Instead, he regathers his focus, familiarizing himself again with his surroundings and the near-exact spot where he first sent Ryū through. He has to get everything right...the angle, the height, the distance. If the portals are a flat plane, it all has to line up perfectly to reopen the hole between them.

Once he has the proper position, he awakens his Sharingan, Mangekyō spinning into the proper pattern. Chakra surges through his system, calling upon the dimension he knows so well.

Like a window, a glimpse into it opens, showing the stones and shadows of Kamui...but no view of any other dimension as he wants. Keeping it open for several seconds, he then lets it fade, releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

After about two hours, his body decides to give him another wake-up call. It’s been far too long since he put something in his stomach. Maybe not wholly necessary given his zetsu half, but...well, it’s a habit he’s gotten used to. Another way he’s been spoiled. And now that he’s making himself go without, it’s a noticeable difference.

Sighing, he drags a hand down his face. In truth, it’s only a few miles left to Konoha...irritating, considering that the rogues they encountered not only dared, but managed to get this close...which then caused this whole debacle. If they hadn’t showed up...or maybe if he hadn’t sent her through...then…

Well...no point in such thoughts. They won’t bring her back. Instead, Obito weighs his options. Should he return to Konoha to refuel? Or will that get his time cut short?

Konoha, however, decides to make that choice for him.

Idling in thought, he glances up as a hawk gives a cry, settling on a branch nearby.

...this can’t be good.

Approaching and taking the note attached to the bird’s leg, Obito skims it, brow furrowing the further he reads. Apparently, the few days Kakashi thought he could buy him have been cut short. The council has noticed his...extended absence, and wants a report.

And if this gets messy enough, the other Kage might get involved, given that he’s an international criminal who only just got returned access to his chakra.

Sighing curtly, Obito pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t just...stop! What if the other side makes contact? The other dimension? He can’t afford to miss it...he can’t…

...but in the face of his stubborn insistence, a bit of logic manages to be heard. If he goes back and gets permission for more time through the proper channels, things will be smoother. If he instead ignores a direct summons from the Hokage...well, he can probably kiss access to his chakra goodbye.

So, as painful as it is to leave this place, Obito nods the courier off before giving it all one last look with his Sharingan. He needs to have it memorized in order to return to the right place.

Once that’s done, he turns and makes his way back toward the hidden village, sacrificing energy for speed. The sooner he gets back and cleared, the sooner he can return to this spot and keep trying to open Kamui.

The gate, as usual, is bustling, and he has to navigate the crowds before reaching the administration building. Ignoring the typical odd looks and few glowers he gets, he marches straight up to Kakashi’s office, taking the time to knock.

...at least he didn’t just teleport this time. But if the council is there, it’d make a rather...crass impression.

He’s given permission after a small pause, opening the door to find Kakashi behind his desk, as usual. And on either side are Homura and Koharu.

...why Kakashi hasn’t kicked these old bags out and replaced them, Obito can’t understand. Especially as they look distastefully to his rather...unkempt appearance. Ah, right...he’s still covered in dirt and dried blood. And he probably smells wonderful...

“Obito,” the Rokudaime greets, tone clearly tinged with exasperation. But already Obito knows that isn’t his fault - that would lie with the elders on either side of him.

“Uchiha Obito,” Homura then begins, and already Obito can tell this is going to be a painful conversation. “Why did you not return within the allotted time for your mission?”

“There were complications,” he mutters in response, doing his best to keep his temper. “As you might notice by the fact that my partner is missing.”

“Where is miss Suigin Ryū?” Koharu then demands, clearly aiming to double team him with her fellow elder. “You were her protection detail!”

“Like I said, there were -”

“This trial mission was meant to be a gauge for your ability to re-enter the mission pool,” Homura cuts in, and Kakashi shoots Obito a warning look as he bristles. “Not only have you returned late, but without the medic you were assigned to?”

“Utatane-sama, Mitokado-sama,” the Rokudaime then interjects, drawing their gazes to his exhausted expression. “Perhaps your inquiries would be better answered if you gave Obito a chance to respond. I’m sure he’s well aware of the mission parameters...and what’s gone wrong regarding them.”

Both elders seem to puff up indignantly...but don’t argue, instead exchanging a glance.

“...very well.” Homura clasps his hands at his front. “Do explain the details of your mission...and answer our questions.”

Obito draws a long, calming breath, exhaling slowly. Just remember...this isn’t about your pride. This is about Ryū. “...three days ago, I was sent with the medic Suigin Ryū to a nearby village to protect her while she was to administer vaccines. The day went well, but we stayed an extra night due to the schedule running long. The following morning, we left the village and began making our way back to Konoha...when we were confronted by several rogue shinobi a few miles from the village.

“They were easily dispatched, but more followed. I used my Sharingan to teleport Ryū to safety before killing the rest of them. Upon going to fetch Ryū...I found her missing.”

“Missing? Where, precisely, did you teleport her to?”

Obito’s teeth grit, not exactly eager to explain Kamui to anyone he doesn’t have to. “...my Sharingan grants me access to a pocket dimension. I sent her there to keep her safe. When I went to get her back out...she’d disappeared. Which, in theory...should be impossible. Only someone with my Sharingan can access it.”

That seems to greatly unsettle the old pair. “You have access to an entire dimension separate from our own?”

What, they didn’t tell you that after my trial? he thinks dryly to himself. “Yes.”

“...was this ability considered when giving you access to your kekkei genkai and chakra?”

“He was fully cleared by the board, yes,” Kakashi cuts in, putting a stop to their dithering. “I knew well what Obito’s Sharingan is capable of, having wielded it for a number of years myself.”

“You didn’t think it a risk?” Koharu demands.

“...not at all. There aren’t many ways he could misuse it. And we had insurance that he would behave.”

“Insurance?”

It’s here Obito and Kakashi exchange a glance. While Obito and Ryū have been public about their relationship since Obito was released from his house arrest with Kakashi, no one beyond they three and Naruto are aware that they were in fact together long before the fourth war. Such knowledge would, of course, paint Ryū as a traitor, having withheld information about Obito from the village even after learning about his involvement with Akatsuki.

“...after having spent so much time with Obito as his medic, Ryū befriended him, and...things later turned romantic,” Kakashi cautiously explains, using their typical cover story. “It’s why she was selected as his mission partner. She’s the one person, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Obito would never harm or betray. He’s become very...attached to her. It was meant to be a failsafe, until...well, this happened.”

“So...what did happen to her, then?” Koharu asks, turning back to Obito. “If she was put into this uncrackable dimension...where could she have gone?”

“That’s where we’re unsure...all we have is a theory: that Ryū was somehow taken out of Kamui by an Obito of another dimension.”

Both elders stiffen in surprise. “...you believe such a thing to be possible…?”

“While fighting Kaguya in the fourth war, we and the rest of team seven were pulled into multiple other dimensions,” Obito explains. “And there’s always been theories about alternate timelines, given the way space-time ninjutsu can cause splits - fractures - in the timeline. For every action, there can be a branching path, creating another universe altogether. Or so the theory goes.”

“It’s as Obito said: only his Sharingan can access Kamui, the dimension tied to his eyes.” Kakashi steeples his fingers, leaning elbows atop his desk. “Therefore, we can only assume that whoever took Ryū out of Kamui had to have the same eyes...in other words, they must be another Obito.”

“Before being summoned back, I was working on trying to align the portal as I did when I first sent Ryū through, hoping to make contact again and bring her back,” Obito then cuts in. “The longer I’m held here, the greater the odds that I miss them, or they give up attempting to make contact...if they are at all. It’s already going to be difficult enough to do without squandering time…!”

There’s a long pause as Koharu and Homura seem to think, exchanging glances. “Is it truly so imperative this woman be found?” Homura then dares to ask. “Allowing an international criminal access to his chakra, unobserved, to fiddle about with a dimension only he can access seems a huge liability. Need I remind you, Kakashi-sama, that the world is watching how we handle this? You may have your biases toward Obito due to your past associations, but none of us can afford such a luxury.”

Holding up a hand, Kakashi brings Obito to a halt as he takes half a step forward, rage in his eyes. “Obito...a moment, please.”

Seething, the Uchiha manages to retreat, his body language not unnoticed by the elders.

“...I’m going to put this into terms that you can hopefully understand,” Kakashi then offers, addressing the pair. “As I’m sure you are aware, more than half of Obito’s life, as of the fourth war, was spent on the path he branched to after agreeing to Madara’s plan. It was his entire purpose, his...obsession. Which was then broken and lost when Naruto changed his mind during the war. He betrayed the man he’d partnered with, who had controlled and manipulated him. The purpose he’d had for so long was suddenly a moot point. Years of his life...gone and wasted in a matter of hours.

“Obito was key to defeating both Madara, and later Kaguya. Does that wipe clean his record? No. But his trial granted him a second chance: a lifetime to atone as much as he can before dying, rather than simply being killed outright. Obito now has one purpose: to make up for his misdeeds. For the rest of his life, however much of it he has left.

“Now...Suigin-san has been a kind and influential figure in Obito’s life since the war,” Kakashi then fibs, both he and Obito understanding just how much more of an impact she’s truly had...that they cannot admit to. “I want you to imagine what something like that would come to mean for someone who has been through what Obito has been through. And now, perhaps, you can understand the importance of returning her here. Obito’s stability lies greatly on Suigin-san’s shoulders. It’s why he has, up until being summoned, been so fervently searching for a way to get her back.

“I realize the other Kage are wary of him, as are you, and nearly everyone else. But one thing should be made abundantly clear to you. If Suigin-san is not returned...the thing that has been anchoring Obito will suddenly be lost. He already made poor decisions when he lost someone dear to him before. Does that sound like something you want?”

Both elders are clearly tensed, exchanging wordless glances.

“I believe...we understand,” Homura offers stiffly.

“...then you agree with my decision to allow Obito access to his kekkei genkai and chakra until Suigin-san is found?”

“It seems we have little choice in the matter,” Koharu sniffs. “...but yes, we will allow it. But know this, Kakashi-sama...the other Kage will be watching. If anything goes wrong…”

“I’m aware, and prepared to deal with it,” Kakashi replies flatly. “I assure you, I’d rather deal with peeved Kage than a desperate Obito. And that’s speaking from experience.”

“...very well. Whatever comes to pass next shall be your responsibility. We wash our hands of it,” Homura mutters.

“Not a problem,” Kakashi replies, tone just as unenthused. He watches the pair retreat, leaving him alone with his prior teammate. “...well, I suppose that went about as well as I could hope for.”

“Why are those two still advising you, Kakashi?”

“Believe me, I’m working on it. Now...I think you have work to get back to, hm?”

“After a brief respite to refuel, I’m afraid. Turns out I’ve gotten rather spoiled and out of shape...I’ve got a stomach that won’t shut up and a chakra system that’s lazy.”

In spite of himself, Kakashi gives a single huff of a laugh. “...you know, I just might join you for lunch. I’m not in much of a mood to be in here for a while after that.”

“Be my guest.”

The pair take their leave, underling shinobi looking uncertain as Kakashi simply abandons his office. Waving them off with a ‘be back soon’, he keeps up with Obito’s determined pace. “So...did you make any progress?”

“I think the only progress to be made is to make contact,” Obito counters. “Until we manage to get portals to cross, nothing else can be done.”

“Mm, true…”

“...I just hope that, whoever is on the other side, is working like I am to get her back to the dimension she belongs.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“...I don’t know. It’s just a lingering worry…” A gloved hand pulls down his face with a stressed sigh. “...I don’t know what I’ll do if she’s stuck there, Kakashi.”

The Hatake gives his old teammate a wary glance. “...nothing brash, I hope.”

“...no. No, I’m too...tired for that,” Obito assures him, tone oddly soft. “...I’d keep trying. Until I had no more strength to try. After that, I think I’d just...give up.”

“...give up?”

“...you were right, back there. Explaining to those two. I had a life, and I lost it when that boulder crushed me. Then I had a purpose, and it consumed me until the war. And then I lost it. If I had never met Ryū...if I didn’t have that to return to? I really think I would have died in that war. An easy way out with nothing left to strive for. I had to beat Kaguya. But after that…? I really don’t know.”

The pair step up to a takeout stand, waiting in line and ignoring the looks they get, each for their own reasons. “...before I went to the battlefield, I’d promised her I’d come back. That we’d stay in the village, hide away, grow old...and that’s exactly what Mugen Tsukuyomi gave her. But when I realized that the dream world wasn’t the answer, then...the only way to keep that promise was to actually come back. So...I did.”

“You survived all that for a promise to her...and now you’re stuck here, instead,” Kakashi mutters.

“Yeah, well...we can’t have everything we want. But...that’s my point. If Ryū is gone, then...I have nothing else to do with myself.”

Kakashi pauses, thinking back to the conversation he had with Ryū before their first visit to Obito in Konoha’s prison: about how key she was to Obito’s future behavior.

“If he loses you - if you die? That might very well put him back at square one. It would be like losing Rin all over again...but possibly even worse, given the circumstances. If I had to guess, knowing Obito as well as I can know him...I think he’d go one of two ways. He’d revert to when he lost Rin...or he’d just...give up.

...well, she isn’t dead, that we know of...but it seems I know him about as well as I could hope to, he can’t help but think dryly to himself. “...I understand. I guess for now, all we can do is hope you get her back. And you know I’ll do whatever I can to help. Which...I guess isn’t much beyond keeping the council and the Kage off your back while you work.”

“That’ll be enough,” Obito murmurs in reply. “I just need time...and a whole hell of a lot of luck.”

“I can help you with the former, but...I’ve always been shit at the latter, myself.”

“You and me, both.”

They stand around and eat their takeout, partially to let Kakashi be free of the office a bit longer, and partially to let Obito leave straight from there to return to the road. Once they finish and chuck the containers, Kakashi sighs. “...well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it, hm?”

“I’d say I’ll let you know when I make contact, but honestly I’ll probably just act as soon as I do.”

“That’s fine. You can surprise me when you bring her back, safe and sound. I’ll even give you a week off from work to celebrate.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, be grateful, hm? Besides...that’ll just be icing on the cake to getting her back.”

“...exactly.” Expression both stern and uncertain, Obito gives a curt nod. “...until then.”

“Good luck.”

Rather than walk, Obito teleports back to the proper section of the road. Huh...the bodies are gone. Seems someone finally sent a clean up crew from Konoha. Good. One less thing to worry about: the smell of decaying corpses.

“...all right, Ryū...let’s get you home…!”

     Woo, finally getting back to this fic! And in fact: it's all finished! I'll be posting the other two chapters plus an epilogue here shortly!      This chapter's mostly insight on Obito's side of things, and how both he and Konoha have to handle themselves given how...delicate the situation is. Otherwise...not too much to say about it, I s'pose! Obito's just gotta get back to work getting that portal open!      And as always, thanks for reading!

[kkruml]

STAY Ch 12

Thank you to @sassenachwaffles for your tireless cheerleading of my half-baked ideas, and to @missclairebelle- I know I interupted a bubble bath with a late night panic attack over the end of this chapter. Words just aren’t enough for you both.

Mood Music

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

AO3

Previously

“Jamie… for so long I’ve never felt like I belonged.” She paused, taking a breath before continuing. Her voice was quiet, but steady, “My parents and I- we did travel quite a bit. Boston never really felt like home- it was just a place to land for a spell before we were off to the next adventure.”

His mind conjured images of his own childhood.

The large stone buildings and secret passages through the woods that carved and molded his memories. The very stone walls of Lallybroch had been home, at least long ago. He’d always imagined being Laird, with his lady by his side. A mix of tradition and adolescent daydreams that had once seemed like the logical step in his life’s trajectory. It had been an all but foregone conclusion until a dark night and the sound of twisted metal that scattered his future to the wind… until now.

Her fingers found his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, “Home- it’s always been an idea, but not a place for me, Jamie.”

Home. Loving her was now home to him.

The weight of her hand in his anchored him to the bench as he struggled to keep a clear mind. “What is home to ye now, Sassenach?”

Golden amber glowed in the early evening sun. “Home to me… is you, Jamie.”

Claire

“Are ye sure about this, Sassenach?” Jamie’s eyes were slanted with concern as he watched her hands carefully travel over the document, her pen deftly situated in her hand.

With her heart pounding in her chest and a swell of happiness curling her lips into a smile, she met his gaze. His eyebrows were pressed together in concern, and she lifted her hand to his cheek, feeling the stubble prickle under her touch. The word bubbled from her chest and sent a warm wave of contentment through her veins. “Yes.”

The pen swirled and dipped against the paper in a flourish as she finished her signature.

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

A heaviness lifted, and her heart constricted as the last fleeting memories came rushing back to her.

This house. This place. Her parents. So many things that would never be. But so much more that was now possible.

Gently placing the pen next to the fresh ink, she nodded. “And that’s that.”

“What happens now?”

“Uncle Lamb will handle the particulars,” she paused, feeling a large arm snake around her shoulder and she leaned into the warmth.

They had given her the gift of her past. It was time for her to turn towards her future.

“It will take some time, but the foundation will be able to convert this place into a proper home for…  parentless children.”

Orphans.

The word she couldn’t quite say aloud. The place she’d known for so long would be the soft place to land for children less fortunate than she, but also so similar in their loss and longing for a family.

The weight of his hand brought her back to the present. The pattern of swirls his fingers traced prickling her skin were as comforting as they were intoxicating. Tilting her face to his, she was met with a tranquil sea of blue, framed by auburn lashes.

“Yer parents would be proud, Claire,” his voice was soft, the lilt of his accent wrapping around the words and catching at her name. His fingers curled around her shoulder as he gave it a gentle squeeze.

Settling against his side, she sighed and felt the release of tension between her shoulder blades, feeling the weight of the last several weeks fade away. “Take me home- to Scotland.”

Jamie

Should he ask her now?

Wait til she gets through the door ye dolt.  

He’d prepared a late-night meal for her, too planned to be a casual affair. She’d know he was up to something.

Like memorizing lyrics, he rehearsed the words over and over in his head.

My flat is two blocks closer to the hospital. Ye’ve spent all yer nights here since Boston- almost two weeks now. Why pay for a flat when yer never there?

His thoughts jumped from one point to the next in a dizzying pace until all thoughts blurred and he was left with the simple truth-

I want ye here with me.

A smile played at his lips- to know she’d be here every night, to wake up to every morning… to find in the darkness between sleeping and waking. To start planning for things to come.

‘Home to me… is you.’

Her words echoed in the quiet moments of his day, finding strength as he thought about that night in Boston.

He was ready; that much he knew. He just hoped she was, too.

His fingers fidgeted with the spare key, eyeing the clock.

11:15pm. Surgery must have gone long.

After watching the rugby highlights again, he checked his phone- 12:45am, and a new text from Claire.

               Sorry love. Likely another hour to go. Save my spot.

His heart sank as he sighed, the hope of her delicate form materializing from around the corner disappeared. Picking up his phone, he tapped out a response.

               Dinna fash, Sassenach. Yer spot’s here waitin’ for ye.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he shuffled from the couch to the kitchen to put away dinner. Leaning against the counter, he eyed the couch- the cushions still pressed to resemble his shape after hours of surfing the tube. His gaze traveled down the hallway in the direction of their bedroom.

I’ll rest my eyes- just for a few minutes.

Trudging the dozen steps to his bed, he collapsed face first into his pillow, consciousness slowly slipping away as darkness conjured sleep.

The ringtone jolted him awake. Fumbling for the phone on his nightstand, the time stared back at him: 4:10am.

Stretching his limbs, his hand searched for the wig of curls that should be sprawled on the pillow next to him but found it empty.

Squinting through the haze of sleep, there was nothing from Claire, but there were two missed calls.

His pulse quickened, and his blood ran cold. Geillis- at 2:17am and 4:09am. He blinked at the screen.

Why would she be calling him- and why now?

It had taken all of thirty seconds for him to grab his coat and shoes before he was out the door, down the stairwell, and onto the pavement in the direction of the hospital.

He stared at the doctor as he explained her injuries, his lips moving but the sounds barely registering.

She had stepped off the curb a moment too early.

A car rushing into the A&E driven by a frantic father-to-be with his wife in labor.

The vehicle struck her side.

Blunt force trauma due to the impact.

A cascade of words unraveled as he tried to process them.

Claire. She was hurt.

His chest constricted as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. The fluorescent lights of the waiting room flickered as his knees buckled. Stumbling backwards into a chair, his fingers gripped the wooden armrests, desperate for something -anything- to anchor him to the present.

Time slowly ticked by; seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. He perked to every pair of footsteps, hoping for an update or some word of her condition. Each fragile flutter of hope he felt swell in his chest was dashed as the sounds faded, echoing off the hospital walls.

His fingers drummed against his thigh, a constant rhythm that matched his heartbeat. Between slow, painful blinks he caught sight of fiery red hair, and he leapt to his feet- a sudden jolt of energy coursing through his veins.

“How is she?” His voice shook.

“She’s stable.” Geillis’s voice was husky, an octave lower than it should be. Her usual smirk was gone, replaced with lips drawn into a somber line. The look unsettled him. “Nasty concussion, they had a fitful time resetting the break in her arm. A few broken ribs, and some cuts and scrapes. She’s resting now.”

His stomach flipped as he conjured her face- lifeless, pale, and bleeding on the pavement. Every muscle in his body tensed, taut as a tightrope suspended somewhere between two limitless points. Once misstep and he’d come completely undone.

A wave of nausea flooded his senses, his eyes snapped shut as he heard faint sounds of tires screeching. The sound mixed with the thrumming of his pulse in his ears. He had seen this before. And he had been helpless. He’d sworn an oath of protection to Claire- that she was safe with him. He would have sacrificed his body to protect her. But here he was, hands shaking at his sides in a waiting room while she lay in a hospital bed, alone.

“Can I take ye to her?” Her voice was quiet, soft as if trying to tame a feral animal.

He nodded almost imperceptibly and shuffled behind her, barely allowing a half-step between them.

The beep of the monitors filled his ears, his eyes found her face immediately. A cut marred her perfect ivory skin lining the curve of her cheek.

Stepping slowly, cautiously, he eyed the empty chair next to her.

Geillis’s eyes traveled to the empty seat, her words urging him forward, “She’ll want ye here when she wakes.”

When she wakes.

He grasped onto the word- when- and watched it slowly morph, the letters contorting and disappearing until a thought grabbed hold of him and persisted.

If she wakes.

His eyes traveled down the lines of her thin frame, angles long ago memorized but suddenly fleeting. The urge to remember every detail overcame him. Cautiously, his fingers drifted to her hand, slowly taking it in his own. Warm and soft, he felt her blood pulsing through her veins and he exhaled in relief.

She was real, immediate, alive.

The sound of humming perked his ears and he looked around. Finding the room empty, he realized it was the sound of his own voice.

That song.

“Sassenach…” he cleared his throat to stop it from shaking. “The thing is… I’ve got this song.”

He waited, checking to see if she’d wake up. After two heartbeats and a deafening silence, he swallowed hard and continued.

“I’ve been hearin’ this melody since the night I met ye.” Gently stroking her hand, soft skin almost translucent in this light, his fingers trembled. She was too still, too quiet. He longed to feel her fingers lace into his. His voice was hollow, “I just need ye to wake up and help me with the lyrics.”

He conjured the words that had been seared into his heart- words that brought the sensation of her lips and the warmth of her touch when he needed them most. The words had flooded the still moments in his day, tangled themselves in his thoughts, but he couldn’t quite reach out and touch them and make them real.

The sound of the heart monitor pierced through the silence.

“A calm sea once clear blue,” he started, pausing to take a shaky breath as his throat tightened. “Ye came to me and turned my world to whisky.”

Her face at the bar filled his vision –– her cheeks were so rosy, the whisky in her eyes so clear.

Steeling himself, he whispered, “Taste you on my tongue, feel you on my skin…” 

The first time they had kissed – his hand molded to the soft curve of her cheek, the taste of her breath, crisp and warm.

“A bird in flight, black lines against ivory rippling across the bay.”

That heron etched into her skin, the memories she entrusted to him.

"Nothing is lost- only changed. But please…” his voice cracked as a wall of tears threatened to blur his vision. Thoughts skipped across his mind as the last of the lyrics danced on his tongue, his plea to her, “Please stay.”

[csauce-and-chips]

Embark - Chapter 2

Chapter Title: Should I Stay or Should I Go?

Word Count: 2,168

Pairing(s): Prinxiety, side Logicality

Featured: Virgil Petty, Roman Prince, Patton Petty, Mr. Petty.

Chapter Warning(s): Minor cursing, child abuse mention (not severe).

Synopsis: Finding himself in a new and strange world was only one reason Virgil was unsettled. How was he supposed to handle a lunatic with a crown, too?

_______

Virgil had to admit, this wasn't how he expected to spend his night.

The short boy stared at the eccentric man as he stepped down from his rotting throne, carelessly yet excitedly taking each step on the jagged peice of wood that made up the chaotic hill. It unsettled Virgil how peices of old wood slipped from the pile and fell from its hold- how could this thing hold together for this long in a condition like this?

"You are quite the dark little man, aren't you? I mean, not to offend, but those bags under your eyes almost look like makeup! Isn't that ridiculous? Of course it is!" The princely character practically spoke to himself, describing his opinions freely.

Virgil stepped back as he watched the seemingly crazy king step onto the dirt ground at last, setting his jaw uncomfortably. He met the man's striking green eyes with his own uneasy dull brown ones. He swallowed.

"You look scared! There's no need to be afraid of me, my emo stormcloud!" His voice was loud and strong, something like a king from a classic storybook for sure. Fitting.

Before Virgil could say something, doubt him or tell him not to call him that, the king extended his hand out dramatically. He was sure if this man had the resources, Virgil would see him holding a rose between his teeth and he would be seated on a glamorous white stead. He was sure any young kid would laugh and love something like this. Virgil, however, wasn't a kid, and wasn't in the mood for messing around.

"My name is Roman Prince! I am the ruler of this world! And your name, my dark and stormy night?"

Virgil slowly blinked as he glanced between his face and his hand a few times. Was he serious? This was all real, not some seriously freaky joke? By that unwavering grin on Prince's face and the way his eyes were bright with excitement, Virgil had to believe him.

He wasn't sure if that was for better or worse. "...Don't call me that. Wh.. what is this place?" Virgil's voice was a mouse squeak compared to the other's booming voice, but he didn't care about matching up to him. He didn't need to prove he was as crazy as him. He just wanted to get out of here.. and figure out what here is.

Roman let out a short laugh, pulling his hand back to his side to rest on hip. "I already told you that this is my world! However, I understand how this can shock you. It's quite magical here, if I do say so myself"

Virgil cocked an eyebrow as he glanced around at the scenery once again, to take in that... 'magical' essence. "Magical isn't the word I'd use. More like.. hyperactive, apocalyptic fever-dream."

An offended gasp escaped the king, his hand slapping over his chest. Man, this guy really was dramatic, huh? "How rude of you to say that about my kingdom! You're a lot more cynical than I thought!"

"And you're more crazy than I thought." Virgil rolled his eyes as he watched Roman prepare another comeback, cutting him off at the last second. "Look, I don't know what this place is, and I just want to leave. I'm.. sorry for intruding your "kingdom", but trust me, if you can get me out of here I'll be out of your hair."

Virgil didn't seem to notice how Roman's smile faltered for a moment. He was too focused on calming his anxiety and keeping up his brudish demeanor. He just hoped that this crazy man didn't decide he was some special guest to his kingdom and try to keep him there. He hoped he was somewhat sane.. that he wouldn't hurt him.

"Well then," Romans bright smile returned to his face as he suddenly had a hand on Virgil's shoulder, scaring the smaller boy for a moment. "Let's get you out of here, shall we?"

Roman turned him around and Virgil blinked in surprise. Just like that? It felt odd to Virgil how the man who only moments before seemed so excited to have him there did a 180 and became a one-way ticket out of this crazy place. Not that Virgil minded, he was just.. suspicious.

Why was this man here in the first place? At this point Virgil wasn't sure if this was a dream, it just felt too real. And if it was real, how? How could he be in a world full of wooden.. everything, and this man claiming he ruled it? It made no sense. Where was the food, water? How was he alive? It's not like there was a way a normal person could live here.. so.. what is this guy?

He shifted his shoulder away from Roman as he lead him back in the direction he had come from. The king began rambling about his city as if it wasn't broken down, adding in different little things about how great of a ruler he was. It didn't help Virgil feel better, and frankly, it answered none of his questions.

Roman was definitely handsome. Virgil couldn't deny that. It itched at the back of his mind how he could see those green eyes and perfect jawline fitting on a magazine cover. If he wasn't in such a wrecked outfit and got cleaned up a bit, he was sure people would be all over him.

Which also added to the weirdness. He's got so much potential in every aspect: he's talkative (albeit loud), got the looks, and definitely acts charming, so.. being in the middle of a broken-down world alone, with no one to talk to, really didn't seem to fit this guy's style. Why would he choose to be here of all places?

"Right?"

Virgil immediately looked up and felt his nerves stand up, blurting out a "what?" As he mentally slapped himself in the face.

Roman chuckled as he took strides down the dirt path with a grin. "I was just wondering if you were some sort of explorer? It's the only reason I can think that you'd find this place."

At that, Virgil's heart dropped a little. Right. How he got here. It was a good reminder of why he got himself into this mess in the first place. "I... no. I'm not an explorer."

Those green eyes flicked back curiously to his own, raising his brows questioningly. "You aren't? Why on earth are you here, then?"

Virgil swallowed as he thought. How would he put this? Should he even tell the truth? Even for a crazy man who seemed to not have friends, how could he trust him with his personal life? He barely trusted the cops with information about his brother in the first place.. no. He would have to make something up.

"I... my friend ran into the woods, and I got worried. So I tried to find him and.. found the clearing." Yeah. Sure. That sounds like something he'd do, he was a worrywart like that, that was obvious.

"Ah! That makes sense, you seem like a worrywart!" Huh, looks like this man not only has the king title, but he's also got the mindset of a fifth grader. And he thought Logan was literal.

Virgil rolled his eyes and looked down at the ground. "Yeah, no duh, captain obvious."

"I prefer king or prince, if you please!"

At this point Virgil wasn't going to wonder if he's being serious or teasing him.

Silence hung in the air as they continued walking, Virgil's mind wandering to other things. Maybe something he should have thought about sooner was the state of the city. Obviously it was made of wood, but everything was practically falling apart. Each building seemed to be worn from time and being unused. He couldn't help but wonder how long these buildings have just been sitting there, and crumbling under the pressure of nothingness.

Virgil rested his hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes settling back on the man ahead of him. He couldn't get his mind off of him. No matter how odd or annoying he seems, he put off a natural aura of 'interesting', drawing the curiosity inside Virgil right back to him and him  alone. He couldn't tell if that made Roman more annoying or not.

But that doesn't matter. Virgil was sure that once he got away from this place everything would go back to normal. He would sleep alone in his quiet, empty house and meet up with Logan to discuss Virgil's issues or whatever book Logan had read that day. Logan would be interested to find out about all of this. Logan..

Virgil stopped in his tracks as he dug into his pockets. His unease rose inside of him as his searching turned up fruitless, a frustrated huff coming from him.

"What's the matter, Rude-y Gloom?" Roman had also stopped and turned back to him, a hand on his hip interesting position. His eyebrow was cocked, truly, cocky and a giant cock all in one. "Don't you want to get out of here?"

He sighed as he glanced around and ran a hand through his bangs. "I lost my phone. I.. can you please help me find it?"

Roman blinked as his expression changed to one of excitement. Who gets excited about finding a phone?

"Of course I will! Follow me!"

"Please, dad, don't go!"

A young eight year old stood behind his older brother, watching him plead with their father. The usually cheerful and optimistic boy was on the verge of tears as he grabbed at their giant father's coat sleeve.

"Patton, let go of me. You're acting like a child-"

"Please! You can't go, I can't get a hold of Janet and it's been three whole days!"

"You have enough money for the week, you'll survive."

"We have barely enough money to buy some groceries-"

"Janet will be back by monday."

"That's what you said last weekend, and she hasn't been back! All I could make for dinner last night was cereal!"

"You'll be fine-"

"Just please don't go, dad! I'll get a job, I'll do more I just- please don't leave again!"

"Let go of me, Patton"

"Dad-"

"I said let go!"

Virgil yelped as Patton was thrown off of his father's arm and came crashing to the ground. His frightened eyes were worriedly fixed on his brother as he pushed himself into a sitting position, staring silently at their father.

"You need to learn how to grow up." Their father took up his bag and his keys as he had many times before. "One day, I won't come back."

The young boy flinched as the door slammed, eyes falling back on his brother. Patton seemed upset, that's for sure- at the time Virgil couldn't fully understand what he was feeling. But that didn't mean Virgil couldn't tell Patton was about to cry.

"Patt..?" He stepped over to his brother and shyly tugged at his sleeve. "You ok..?"

The way Patton looked at Virgil made his heart hurt. It was so weird seeing his brother without a smile, or holding back tears. Virgil didn't like it. He didn't like what his father was doing. Why did he keep making Patton so sad?

However, Patton's frown didn't last for long. A small smile made it's way to the fifteen-year-old's face as he shifted so he was kneeling instead of sitting. He wiped his eyes and brushed some hair out of Virgil's face.

"Yeah, kiddo, I'm alright. Don't worry too much about it, ok?"

Virgil nodded, and Patton smiled a bit wider, ruffling up Virgil's chestnut brown hair that matched so well with his brother's.

"Good. How about.. pizza? Are you feeling some good ol' anchovies tonight?" Virgil stuck out his tongue and pulled a face. Patton giggled as he stepped into the kitchen to order pizza, leading Virgil by the hand.

"..Hey, Patt?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Was.. dad for real? Is he not gonna come back..?"

Patton paused as he looked down at Virgil, his voice caught in his throat. The young boy always had so many questions, didn't he? Most of the time, it was a wonderful thing.. but Patton didn't always have the answers he needed to have.

"I... he'll come back, Virgil. I know it's scary right now, but we have to trust him. He's family, after all." He gave Virgil a reassuring hand squeeze as he pulled his younger brother up to sit on the counter next to the landline.

"And no matter what, I'll never leave. You can trust me on that." Patton gave Virgil a short forehead kiss as he picked up the landline to provide dinner for that night.

"..I trust you."

_______

Tag list:

@gaydreamland @virgils-old-sweater @6tick6tock6 @hellomusicalnerdhere @thatpinkpony59 @roseisjustfine