#once i finish the other two prompts in my inbox it will be eight

[banshee-cheekbones]

standrew high school au!

is there a more hallowed high school tradition than having your first kiss on a school bus on the way back from a field trip? probably, but that’s what I went with for this! 

no warnings, because this is just pure goddamn fluff, like approximately 85% of what I write.

exactly 2.5k, on ao3 here.

an endless yearning in your heart.

Ordinarily, by this time of night, Andrew would be in bed.

If he wasn’t already asleep, he would probably be under the covers, reading a book by the dim glow of his bedside lamp and absently petting his cat. Maybe, depending on the night, he would be lying in the dark, talking to Steven on the phone and trying not to drift off or say something incredibly stupid, something like I love you or I wish you were here with me.

Tonight, however, is no ordinary night.

Even though it’s just past midnight on a Friday, he’s in the back seat of a school bus, an hour and a half away from home. They were supposed to be back from their field trip, which was a full day of museum hopping followed by a movie, three hours ago, but barely five minutes after they’d left the theater, the back tire on their bus had abruptly exploded. They’d had to wait in the empty parking lot of a big-box store for a replacement to arrive, swathed in a sickly yellow glow from the towering lights overhead. At first, there had been an excited energy to the air, an energy that manifested itself in shouts and sudden explosions of laughter and darting movements as people chased after each other, an energy brought on by the sheer novelty of the situation.

By the end of the first hour, the energy had waned. By the time they all trooped back onto the bus, it had almost vanished. While some of his classmates had gotten a brief second wind once they were back on the road, it had quickly died, plunging the bus into a near-silence that has persisted for the most part, broken only by snippets of whispered conversation and the occasional snore or snuffle (some coming from across the aisle, where Adam and Annie are fast asleep).

Outside, the world whizzing by the dirty windows is dark. The traffic is light at this time of night, and only occasionally does a lit-up billboard appear on the side of the road, as bright as an artificial moon. Inside, the glow of a laptop screen coming from a few rows up is illuminating a small patch of the riveted ceiling in eerily blue light. The glow doesn’t quite reach to the back row, but it provides enough illumination for Andrew to make out the outline of Steven’s face, mere inches away from him. From there, his mind is more than able to fill in the details, able to sketch in Steven’s dark, expressive eyes and the upturn of his nose and the slight quirk of his mouth.

Even though the seat is wide enough to fit two people without them touching, Steven is leaning against Andrew’s side, with his head canted over to rest on Andrew’s shoulder. His hair is tickling Andrew’s neck, impossibly soft, like a butterfly kiss. His knees are braced against the back of the seat in front of them, and every so often, when they go over a particularly large bump, one of his dangling feet bumps into Andrew’s thigh.

They haven’t talked since they got on the interstate - trying to carry on a conversation at such a low volume felt like more effort than it was worth - but they’re listening to music from Steven’s phone, sharing a pair of earbuds. Andrew’s heard the album before, usually in the background of their study sessions; the music itself is soft and quiet, mostly acoustic guitar and piano, but the singer has a soaring, melodic voice perfectly suited to the bittersweet lyrics of heartbreak and love.

If Andrew was sitting beside anyone else, he’d be trying to get some sleep, with his sweater stuck between his head and the window to try and absorb some of the bumps. As is, even though he is tired, even though his eyes ache to close, there’s nervous energy coiled underneath his skin, concentrated in the places where him and Steven are pressed together. Every time one of them moves, no matter how minutely, the touch buries under his skin and flushes him with heat. When Steven moves his head slightly, so that his cheek is resting against Andrew’s chest, Andrew has to try and disguise his sudden gasp as a cough.

The thing is, he should be used to this by now. This thing isn’t new; he’s had a crush on Steven since ninth grade, practically from the first time he saw him. He should have trained these reactions out of himself long ago, should have figured out how to keep his skin from igniting every time Steven so much as brushes against him.

Should have, but hasn’t.

And now, even though he should be trying to get some sleep, all he can focus on is Steven: on the pale smudge of his hand where it’s resting against his own thigh, on the way his lips are moving soundlessly to the lyrics, on the way his shoulder presses into Andrew’s whenever they go over a bump. In fact, he’s so distracted by Steven’s general existence that, when the album draws to a close and a muted kind of quiet fills the earbud, it takes him a few moments to realize it. He waits to see if Steven will find something else for them to listen to, but aside from rubbing his cheek gently against Andrew’s chest (probably to scratch an itch), he remains motionless.

It’s all too possible that Steven simply hasn’t noticed yet - maybe he’s too busy caught up in his own thoughts, thoughts of the post-graduation world that awaits them in only a few months, or something less ominous. Maybe he’s on the verge of dozing off. Either way, when the silence starts to become oppressive, Andrew turns his head and gently knocks his shoulder against Steven’s.

“Steven?” he asks, pitching his voice low so that he doesn’t wake up the people sitting in front of them.

“Yeah?” Steven straightens up slightly and turns his own head, so that his chin is resting on Andrew’s shoulder.

Just like that, Andrew forgets what he was going to say.

They’re close enough that their noses are almost brushing. Andrew can feel Steven’s breath ghosting against his mouth, and they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip.

Andrew’s heart feels like it’s going to stop or catch on fire.

“Uh,” he says as he struggles to find his voice again. The smartest thing for him to do would be to pull away before he does something stupid, but there must be a miscommunication between his mind and muscles, because he doesn’t move. “The album is over.”

“Oh.” Steven glances down at his phone but doesn’t make a move to turn it on. “You’re right.” The words are shaky as they leave his mouth - Andrew is familiar enough with Steven’s vocal patterns to know that he doesn’t imagine it. But he doesn’t have a definitive answer as to why they’re shaky. It could be from being tired or it could be because he’s feeling uncomfortable.

Or it could be from something else. Maybe, just maybe, the unsteadiness in Steven’s voice is being caused by the same thing that’s making Andrew’s chest too tight.

Perhaps it’s because of the darkness surrounding them and the lack of prying eyes, but while Andrew would normally be quick to dismiss that possibility as wishful thinking, tonight, he wants to know with certainty if that possibility is reality.

Carefully, he inches his hand out of his own lap and moves it over, bit by bit, until it’s bumping against the side of Steven’s leg. He pauses for a moment, both to gauge Steven’s reaction and to take a deep breath of preparation to move a little further.

Before he can let the breath out, Steven’s hand lands on top of his.

Andrew glances down, unable to see more than the faint outline of their hands, and pauses again, just in case Steven made a mistake. Instead, Steven wiggles his hand underneath Andrew’s and flips it over, palm up. Without thinking, Andrew shifts slightly, and that’s all it takes for their fingers to slot together. He can almost hear them click together in his mind.

He’s pretty sure that his whole body is going to catch on fire, never mind his heart.

“Do you want to listen to something else?” The words stumble out of his mouth; he’s pretty sure the only reason he manages to get them out at all is because he’s still looking down at their intertwined hands, not at Steven’s face. When he glances back up, he swallows heavily. Shaking his head, Steven’s chin momentarily digs sharply into the meat of Andrew’s shoulder before he moves closer.

“No,” he stutters. He’s so close that Andrew nearly swallows the word. “Do you?”

Andrew shakes his head, takes a deep, steadying breath, and squeezes Steven’s hand.

“No.” His head feels barely attached to his shoulders, and his stomach has dropped to the floor. This isn’t his first kiss - that particular honor went to Eugene during a round of truth or dare in freshman year - but he’s never been this nervous to kiss someone, never been so worried about fucking up. After using his free hand to tug his earbud out so that it doesn’t get in the way, he carefully turns slightly and, with shaking fingers, drops his palm to the smooth curve of Steven’s cheek. Steven makes a quiet sound, an unsteady oh that is quite possibly the loveliest thing Andrew has ever heard.

“Andrew,” he whispers, craning his cheek into the contact. Andrew’s imagined what it would be like to hear Steven say his name like this, breathy and quiet, but what he created in the confines of his mind barely holds a candle to the real thing.

“Can I?” He’s fairly certain that he knows the answer, but he needs to be sure - there’s no way that he’s going to take a step over this line on a hunch, even if it’s one he’s mostly confident about.

Steven nods fervently and abruptly moves forward. With a quiet clunk, their foreheads collide, and even as Andrew momentarily winces, he can’t help but laugh, barely louder than a huff.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Steven begins. Before he can keep going, possibly launch into an apology that will wake up the entire bus, Andrew leans in and does what he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

Namely, kisses Steven.

Steven makes another one of those tiny sounds, a quiet oh, and squeezes Andrew’s hand, almost to the point of pain, before he slumps against Andrew’s side and opens his mouth a little wider. His lips are chapped, and there’s a slight divot on the bottom one from where he’s always pressing his teeth in. Andrew wants more than anything to gently press his own teeth there, see how they fit, but he’s not going to ruin this by moving too fast.

Hopefully, there will be plenty of time in the future for him to explore all the possibilities filling his head. For now, his only goal is to make Steven’s first kiss something that he won’t regret.

All too soon, when the bus goes over another particularly large bump, they break away from each other. Andrew slowly opens his eyes and rubs his thumb along the ridge of Steven’s cheekbone. There’s a lump in his throat that feels suspiciously like his own heart, and he has to swallow before he can speak.

“Was that okay?”

Steven nods and bumps his nose against Andrew’s. “Can we do it again?”

Andrew almost laughs, not because it’s an absurd question, but because he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to hear it.

“Yeah,” he answers, tamping the laugh down and leaning back in. “Definitely.”

After their second kiss comes to an end, Steven actually laughs, quiet but giddy. He doesn’t ask for a third; he simply leans in for it, and Andrew meets him halfway, has to try and quell his grin so that he can kiss Steven properly.

Eventually, once their kisses have turned open-mouthed and firm, Andrew decides to take a chance on something. Carefully, he brushes his tongue against the swell of Steven’s bottom lip, as gently as he can manage.

He’s prepared for Steven to have some kind of reaction, to maybe sigh quietly or gasp or tighten his fingers around Andrew’s. Instead, he shuddersfrom head to toe. The movement reverberates through Andrew, where they’re pressed together, and he fails to bite back a moan from deep in his chest. Already, if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that Steven is so damn responsive, and while Andrew doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, his mind is racing with thoughts of how beautifully Steven might react if Andrew got his mouth on the long curve of his neck or the smooth skin of his chest.

As much as he doesn’t want to, he thinks that maybe it’s time for them to pull back a bit, before things get a little too heated or they manage to wake someone up. After another gentle brush of his tongue (and another shudder in return), he backs away and presses a softer kiss to the corner of Steven’s mouth. He opens his eyes, wishing that the lights were up so that he could actually get a good look at Steven, so that he could memorize the image of his flushed cheeks and his swollen lips panting for breath.

“Wanna come over tomorrow?” Steven asks, bracing his forehead against Andrew’s. He sounds breathless, overwhelmed, and for a moment, Andrew almost rethinks his decision to put a pause on things.

But they can always pick up where they left tomorrow, in Steven’s bed, which is a hell of a lot more comfortable than the bus seat.

“Yeah,” he answers. A grin blossoms across his face, a grin that he couldn’t restrain even if he wanted to. “What time?”

“As soon as I wake up. Whenever that’s gonna be.”

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep now then, so that we don’t sleep in as late tomorrow.” Even in the dark, Andrew is able to see the flash of grin that Steven shoots him before he leans for another quick kiss.

“You always have the best ideas.” Scooting down lower in the seat, which sends his knees further up the back of the seat in front of them, he drops his head back to Andrew’s shoulder. Bringing their still intertwined hands up to his mouth, he presses another soft kiss against Andrew’s knuckles before he lowers them back down to his lap and starts thumbing at his phone with his free hand. After a moment, the album that they were listening to before starts playing again. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

With an utterly content sigh, Andrew drops his head on top of Steven’s, presses his face into the soft mop of Steven’s hair, and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight, Steven.”

[erodasfishtacos]

how about when they first noticed ezra was a nervous and anxious baby ?

Seperation

prompt: the moment when h and yn decide that Ezra needs to see a therapist.

warnings: angst

if you like the fic - please reblog, like, comment, or come talk to me in my inbox!

I write for free so if you enjoy my fics please consider donating to support my writing on my kofi.

enjoy 😊

—

It’s late at night, like 3 in the morning, and Harry was down in Atlanta for three games with the Braves.

Easton and Cash had long adjusted to their father being away for short spurts of time - doesn’t mean they don’t miss him but they know he’ll come back to them.

Ezra was another story.

YN felt dread anytime he went away for a game because her youngest got so anxious and had trouble sleeping.

He was usually okay during the day (Harry was gone for practice and obligations during most mornings and afternoons).

It was at night time.

She really didn’t want to call and bother her husband because he had just played a game that went into three innings of overtime and had gotten a gnarly bruise on his thigh from a ball hitting him as he batted.

When they’d FaceTimed after the game, about eight, he had been so exhausted in his hotel room that his eyes were nearly closing as he spoke to her.

Now at three, three in the morning, Ezra still hasn’t went to bed because of how fussy and tearful he was - babbling about his father.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” He was whining into his mother’s neck, his hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto her skin.

“Ezzie, baby. We have to calm down. Mama’s here and daddy is okay, he’s just working,” She murmured to him for the hundredth time that night.

YN was sat in the den with him because she didn’t want him waking up his brothers or his little sister who just begun to sleep through the night for the most part.

At one point, she did stir for a night feeding, and as YN sat on her bed - Briar latched sleepily, Ezra was nestled tightly into her other side.

When it hit three-thirty, she began to feel herself get frustrated because she couldn’t fix the situation - no matter what she did.

She knew once tears began rolling down her own cheeks that she had to call Harry.

It was never that she was worried he would be mad that she called, she just felt guilty because he had worked so hard already that day.

YN reaches for her phone, taking a deep inhale before pressing his contact for facetime.

It rings three times before it’s picked up, completely dark in his room, and he rasps out drowsily, “Wha’s going on, mama? Y’alright? The babies alright?”

“I-I can’t get him to settle,” YN takes a deep breath, the sleep deprivation making her want to just break down and sob.

“Daddy? Daddy, daddy, daddy,” Ezra just chants, eyes wide on the screen, searching for his father to just appear but all he sees is darkness.

That causes him to just start bawling his eyes out when he can’t will his father onto the phone like he wants.

“Whoa, Ezzie. Sweet boy, c’mon. Y’gotta breathe s’daddy can understand you,” Harry coos, stirring to turn on the light and illuminate his pillow-creased face.

“Daddy!” His voice is shrill, high-pitched and it makes YN’s ears ring.

“Ezra Duke,” Harry says a little more firmly, “Daddy can’t understand you when you scream, okay?”

The little boy sniffles and tries to catch his breath, leaning into where YN is rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Miss you,” His son whimpers sadly, bringing his voice down a notch, “Come home, please.”

“I am flying’ home tomorrow, bab. Daddy will be home around noon but you have to be good for mama,” He says, voice still smooth and calm.

“Now!” Ezra screams in a way he usually never does and then continues, “Now! Now daddy! Now!”

Both parents are taking aback, Harry with wide eyes and parted lips as he watching his son through his phone and YN just squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling out of her mouth.

“Mama, breathe,” Harry directs towards her, can tell how overwhelmed she is getting from all the chaos of his screaming.

“Daddy, daddy,” Ezra blubbers, green eyes angry and anxious at the same time, “Please, home!”

YN hears noise from behind her, to see her eight year old padding into the room with his unruly curls poking every which way.

“Mama, is Ezzie okay?” Easton wonders, knuckling his eyes sleepily and then Cash follows right behind him in his dinosaur pajamas.

“Fuck, he woke up the boys,” YN informs Harry tearfully, “I just…I don’t know what to do. I can’t do anything to make him feel better.”

The older boys peek into the screen to smile at their dad and Harry gives them a tense smile, “Hi boys, I know Ez is being loud but can y’two be good f’your mama and go back to bed?”

They agree, giving their upset brother a kiss and then their mom before talking quietly to each other as they walk up the stairs.

“Daddy? Home, please! Hold me!” Ezra wails, clinging to his mother’s neck tightly enough to hurt as he tantrums.

“This is the worst it’s ever been, he’s normally stopped before I’ve had to call you,” YN groans, rocking him swiftly against her for lack of a better idea.

“Wait…” Harry sits up, scrubbing a hand over his puffy face, “Has this been happening’ every time m’away?”

“It just started two to three months ago but he’s always been able to be calmed down within an hour or so,” YN replies, shushing Ezra as he babbles over and over again daddy, daddy, daddy.

Harry’s jaw tightens and his frown settles into a deep crease, “Well why a’ve you not told me that m’baby has been cryin’ for me when I’m gone? Do y’not think that’s important?”

YN recognizes his irritation and is running on less than five hours of sleep over two days and may he’s it back with an even sharper tone.

“We can’t change that you’re gone. I’m trying to handle it, Harry.”

“Y’not doin’ a bloody good job at it!” Harry bites back in frustration, heart pounding in desperation as he hears his son cry for him.

“Daddy, daddy, come on.”

Then YN looks at him with watering, hurt eyes, “I’m doing my best. You’re not here, I can’t make you appear. I’m trying to calm him down without having to wake you up.”

And Harry shouldn’t but he’s angry and misses his babies - all of them but especially the one who needs him the most right now.

“Y’dont think I deserve to know tha’ Ezra’s been acting like this?” Harry snaps before adding, “In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.”

And wow, those words hit her like a ton of bricks. It was instilling all the insecurities that she had bubbling in her chest.

In this situation, y’best isn’t good enough because he’s still crying and y’still haven’t been able to settle him.

Harry automatically knows that he spoke before he thought and he let his stressed out mind say untrue hurtful things.

He part his lips about to speak before YN cuts him off.

“If you can do it so much better than me, fucking good you. Then come home and fix this because I give up,” YN laughs without humor, finger finding the red button to hang out and disconnecting.

Harry tried calling back over and over and over but YN just hangs her head, sniffling, as she watches her tired, anxious little son finally drift off to sleep.

At some point, her phone stops ringing when he’s given up and it doesn’t ring again until for another thirty minutes.

She knew he was going to keep calling until she picked up - had been that way since they first started dating.

By now, Ezra was asleep in his room and YN was sat against their headboard - having tossed the tear soaked shirt she had on off and was feeding Briar once more.

The millionth facetime request comes through and finally she swipes to answer, he’s furious right as they connect, “D’you have any idea how worried I am? Y’cant ju-“

He stops himself when he sees his baby girl pop her head from her mother’s breast with puffy lips and look at the screen, “Dadadadada.”

“Oh, hi lil’ mama,” Harry changes his tone completely, face softening - “Did I interrupt y’eatin’? S���mama being so nice and feeding you?”

Briar just smiles with a gapped baby tooth smile, a dimple pushing into her left cheek as she does so.

“Guess I’m good for one thing, right? A fucking milk-maker,” YN scoffs at her husband’s opposite tone as she guides Briar gently back down to finish her meal.

Harry frowns, “Y’know tha’s not anything near the truth and tha’ I think you’re the best mama to our babies. M’just upset.”

“You told me my best wasn’t good enough, I can’t believe you would say something like tha’ to me,” YN begins to sniffle again.

“Sweetheart, m’sorry. I ju-“

“What did you call for, Harry? It’s nearly four-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept for nearly two days now. I want to feed her and go to sleep,” YN’s voice is disconnected and exhausted.

“To talk, I didn’t say how I was feeling correctly-“

“When you come home tomorrow you can fix everything and I’ll let you because I’m not doing a good enough job,” His wife cuts him off again.

Harry starts to feel a ball of worry form in his throat as he hears how unemotional and distance his wife sounds with him.

He had totally said the wrong things as his wife was just trying to do her best at balancing four babies while he was away.

“Please, let me apologize-“

“I would like to go to sleep. Please don’t call back,” YN responds before ending the phone call and leaving the screen dark.

They rarely ever fought. Especially like this.

He’s man enough to admit that he cries after he tries calling back (even though she said not to) and it went straight to voicemail.

-

He tries facetiming in the morning, at around nine right before if flight takes off - surprised when it actually was picked up.

Harry only sees YN for a brief moment before she’s propping up the camera on the kitchen table so that Easton and Cash are in view eating pancakes and Briar is in her high chair with blueberries staining her chubby cheeks.

Ezra must still be in bed.

“Hi bubbies,” Harry greets with a smile as they’re curls shake as they look up with excited smiles.

“Daddy! You comin’ home?” Cash squeaks excitedly through a mouthful of food.

“Hi dad!” Easton chimes in, waving.

Briar is only half-interested, more taken by the fact that if she squishes the berries between her fingers they turn mushy, babbles out a, “Daddadaa.”

“I’ll be home in like three hours, ‘kay” Harry informs them - his heart aches to be there right now with theme

“Ezzie cried all night,” Cash let’s his father know.

“Mama cried too,” Easton whispers, like it’s a secret that he doesn’t want her to hear, “I think she is really sad.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, “I know. Ezzie was sad last night. Can I talk to mama?”

Easton looks to his mother off camera as she must say something to him to repeat to Harry, “Mama said that she is busy and she’ll see you when you get home.”

He clenches his fist off camera, trying to smile but he knows it’s terse as he says, “Alright, I love you all. See y’when I get home.”

-

Meanwhile, YN gets all the children settled after breakfast.

Easton, Cash, and Ezra in the backyard - the two older ones digging holes for bugs and the younger playing in the sandbox.

Briar was snoozing in the cradle of YN’s elbow as she sat on a chaise - watching the kids.

She hits the number she was looking for, waiting for it to ring, and then she hears, “Hillside Pediatrics, this is Jess.”

The office knew the family well because Harry is Harry Styles and they have four children who visit there.

YN inquires about therapeutic options for him, resources, and if they had any recommendations for where to take him.

Like the super mom she is, she manages to set up an intake appointment that evening (which was a miracle on its own), call Anne and ask to watch the other children, and then take a deep breathe.

Harry steps through the back door, dressed in his usual Yankees hoodie, Nike shorts, and trainers looking tanner than before.

“Hi bubbies!” He greets, basking in when all of his children look up and squeal excitedly at the sight of their father.

Easton and Cash are the fastest, racing to cling to each legs and nuzzle into his thigh with a tight hug.

Ezra is slower, by the time he’s arrived to his father - there was no room for him to shuffle in and he automatically lets out an earth-shattering wail.

Just like before.

“Daddy! Hold me! Daddy, hold me please!” His youngest son begs desperately, stretching up his arms, and letting hot tears stream down his cheeks.

Harry tuts, reaching for him and popping him on his hip but Ezra has other ideas - scrambling until his nose is pressed into the curve of Harry’s neck with his arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Ezzie, c’mon now,” Harry titters softly, reaching down to give both of his other boys a kiss on the head before they dart back off to play.

“Daddy, miss you,” Ezra blubbers sadly, Harry wincing when his son yanks a bit in his longer curls by the nape of his neck.

“Y’okay, daddy’s got you. Relax, breathe bubba,” His father reassured him, swaying softly back and forth until he’s just sniffing.

“We have an appointment with a children’s play therapist for him later at five,” YN tells him, shushing Briar who’s squeaking from the noise.

Harry takes a deep inhale, “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Can we talk now since y’been ignoring my calls?”

YN bristles at the attitude in his tone, “Excuse me if I’d rather not be critiqued on my skills as a mother when I am sleep-deprived and stressed out.”

He clenches his jaw, speaking lowly with firmness, “Y’bein’ absurd! I didn’t critique to you, y’blowing things out of proportion! Y’the one who didn’t tell me this was going on!”

“It didn’t get that bad until last night! I could handle it - he would just be upset for a little before bed but he’d never got that anxious before,” She justifies, returning the glare he’s giving her.

“Didn’t think y’could mentioned it to me? I have a right to know, he’s m’baby too. I could have fix this yet you were letting him suffer,” Harry bites out but know as soon as it’s out of his mouth that he wishes he could swallow the words back down.

You were letting him suffer.

YN doesn’t even argue back, just starts bawling because of how hurtful those words were and how could he even say that?

“Mama, fuck- I didn’t, I’m just-“

His wife gets up without a word, using Briar’s blanket to wipe at her wet cheeks, and vanishing through the sliding back doors.

Ezra was snoozing peacefully on him and he couldn’t leave the boys outside alone so he resorts to sitting down on one of the outdoor couches and curse internally.

He couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He just felt so….betrayed that she hadn’t told him what had been going on and he felt like he was letting down Ezra.

It was a nasty feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he was away so much from his family and it was stressful for everyone.

He wanted to cry at the idea of his son crying for him every night.

-

Harry starts to get anxious when YN isolates herself in their bedroom with Briar for the next upcoming hours.

He knocks softly, opening the door to YN turned on her side away from him, under the covers, with Briar asleep in her bassinet asleep.

“Mama? Y’awake?” Harry murmurs cautiously with a sandwich and chips since she’d disappeared and hadn’t been down once, water in the other hand.

“Are the boys okay?” YN asks quietly, not bothering to turn over to face him.

“Yes, babies are fine. They’re watchin’ Toy Story right now, eatin’ lunch,” Harry replies, eyes falling in his beautiful little daughter.

“If the boys are fine then I don’t want you in here,” YN tells him with an angry tone but low enough that it won’t disturb Briar.

Harry nearly whimpers.

“Baby, please. We need to talk-“

“If the boys are fine, I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry hesitates by the door, feeling helpless as he slips the plate onto the dresser in case she is hungry but he doubts she’ll touch it.

“Alright, I’ll leave y’be. Call me if y’need anythin’ or help with Briar,” He offers, trying to buy time in the room.

She laughs sarcastically, “Yeah, I’ll make sure you’re notified because I can’t do a good enough job myself.”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair, trying to conjure up the perfect words to fix this situation but it’s interrupted.

“Daddy? Daddy? Where? Hold me!” Ezra screeches as Easton stands outside the door with him, holding his hand.

“Dad, he won’t stop,” The oldest complains with annoyance as Ezra scurries to his father and up into his arms.

“Daddy daddy,” He chants into his father’s skin with relief.

“Thank y’East, Ezzie’s been sad lately. Huh?” Harry replies, thumbing at Easton’s cheek.

The oldest shrugs, “Not always. Mama cheers him up all the time with kisses and hugs.”

Harry gazes back to the lump under the blankets and feels himself getting choked up. He really really regretted his words.

He didn’t regret being upset with her. He regrets the cheap shots he took at his wife who’s just trying to be a full time mom to his babies.

“Mama?” Ezra squeaks at the word, realizing he hasn’t seen her recently and then he’s back to tantruming, “Mama, mama, mama. Where’s mama?”

“M’right here, Ez,” YN murmurs, flipping to her other side so that her youngest could see her. His face lights up and he scurries to the bed, scampering up until his mom is tucking him under the blankets with her.

Harry’s heart aches when Ezra whimpers quietly and burrows into her warm chest with happiness that he found his mother.

“Y’got him?” Harry asks, hand raking through Easton’s curls as he leans into his father’s side.

“Can we go play now, dad?” Easton asks impatiently, tugging his father out of the room and down the staircase.

-

Anne shows up and the two older ones are so excited, bouncing up and down as they tug her into the backyard to show her the holes they dug with Briar popped on her hip - gnawing on her shirt collar.

YN brings Ezra down the stairs, curls tamed with a bit styling mousse and a little adias x disney outfit that was the cutest thing ever. ***

Harry reaches out to take Ezra off YN but he whines and shakes his head, clinging to his mother like it was life or death.

“No daddy! Mama!” Ezra pouts angrily, glaring at his father with protectiveness.

He puts his hands up, “Okay, okay. Y’can stay with y’mama.”

-

The car ride is silent, Harry doesn’t know what to say and YN isn’t giving him anything to work with. He feels like he’ll just say the wrong thing again.

When they pull up to the building and Harry puts it in park, he’s startled when his wife just starts bawling into her hands.

Harry freezes for a second with wide eyes before rumbling, “Mama, sweetheart. Please don’t cry, it breaks m’heart, darlin’.”

“I’m…I’m no-not a good mom,” YN cries, “I wanted to tell you but I was scared. I don’t want you to think I can’t handle raising our babies.”

Harry pries her hands away from her face, cupping her cheeks and firmly staring, full conviction in his voice, “If I didn’t think y’could handle four babies then I wouldn’t have put them in you. I wouldn’t talk about putting more in you.”

YN’s eyes are watering, letting Harry swipe the tears away with his thumbs as she inhales deeply, “I am so so sorry I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you to worry when you’re away.”

Harry leans forward, kissing her harshly before whispering against her lips, “I don’t give a fuck about baseball in comparison to you and the kids. I’d give it up this second if y’asked. I want to worry because you’re the love of m’life and I’m y’husband - I’m here to support you and support our family.”

He continues, “I am a bit frustrated with you. I want you to tell me everything I miss when I’m gone even if it stresses me out or upsets me. Okay? But I shouldn’t have said hurtful things. You’re the best mama on this planet and y’treat our babies the best.”

YN nods, willing herself to stop crying as their appointment starts in ten minutes as she takes steady breathes.

“I forgive you. I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way. I just…I feel like you do everything for us and the least I could do is manage the kids,” She sighs with self-deprecation.

“Mama, just because one of our bubs needs therapy doesn’t mean you’re not doing a perfect job. We’ve always know Ezzie was an anxious baby. This is going to be good for him and for us, right?” He encourages, nosing at her cheek before she offers up her lips once more for a short kiss.

“I love you,” YN tells him, running a thumb of a light dusting of stubble on his jawline.

“Love y’more than anything,” He replies instantly.

-

Ezra is nervous as they step into the calming, peaceful office where there are neatly organized buckets of toys and shelves of books.

Patricia was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile who welcomed them in, she observed how Ezra had himself wrapped around his dad with hesitant green eyes peeking at her.

As they sit down, Patricia says softly, “This must be Ezra?”

They all wait for a moment before the toddler turns around to look at the woman and says timidly, “m’Ezzie.”

“Hi Ezzie,” The therapist greets and he gives her a cautious smile before nuzzling back into his father’s neck.

The discuss what has been going on. How Ezra has always been very nervous, anxious, cautious in a way that none of his other siblings are.

How he struggles when one of his parents is away from him, how he can get upset if he can’t find one of his siblings, or how much he worries about things most kids his age don’t worry about.

Patricia does an excellent job in calming down the parents, assuring them that it was nothing out of the norm, and that therapy would be beneficial for him.

She states that they’ll work a lot of feelings - being able to describe and recognize them. That will be one of the most important things.

Also working on his ability to calm down and cope with stressful situations, recommending once a week which of course his parents agreed to.

By the end of the intake, Ezra had ventured to take one of the baby dolls from a bin and bring it back to his father.

“Look daddy, s’a baby,” He lisps proudly, holding it up to show him.

“Good job, bubs,” Harry laughs, leaning to kiss his forehead - watching him toddle off to find more dolls to play with.

-

That night, after all the kids go to bed, and YN is finishing her final feeding with Briar in her nursery before putting in her crib.

Harry runs a nice, steaming bath with lavender bubbles and a candle burning with the lights dimmed low.

When she finds him, he slowly undresses her with warm kisses and praises of how good of a wife and mother she is.

They lay in there together, YN between his legs with her head rested on his chest, as his hands massage at her tummy and hips lovingly.

And yeah, everything is okay after that.

They get up the next day and everything is back to normal except now Ezra goes to therapy once a week with his parents.

(Ezra ends up working with Patricia until he’s in about sixth grade.)

[tact-and-impulse]

Shinkane Week 2022 Day 2

This is in honor of me not having to work nights for a while, lol. Set before the Spooky Boogie case, if you’re curious! Thanks for the “diligence” prompt, @shinkaneweek!

Third Shift

Akane tapped at her compact, switching to the holo of her work uniform. Her real outfit wasn’t that unprofessional, but still more relaxed than her usual. Karanomori and Kunizuka had recommended as much, saying third shift was much easier if she was comfortable.

She looked ahead to the familiar path to the tower, illuminating the way now that night had fallen. Her steps echoed in the corridors, and in the workroom, the lights were on. Her only coworker for the next eight hours was already there – where else could he possibly go? – and he was staring at his computer with a focused intensity. His side profile was impassive, no trace of the fierce hunter she’d witnessed only a week ago.

Despite his words of affirmation to her, she still couldn’t figure him out yet.

“Good evening, Kougami-san.” She greeted.

“Inspector.” He swiveled to face her, the screen blocked behind him. “We’re on until seven. Gino said you’ve never worked overnight?”

“No, I haven’t. How is it?”

He shrugged. “You endure. Respond to alerts, but they’re not frequent. Catch up on the day’s work, and rest when you can.”

“I see. Is that what everyone does?”

“Everyone except Kagari. He games until three in the morning, then passes out and wakes up at six to do everything at the last minute.” Nevertheless, this was relayed with amusement and his smile then turned to her. “I have a feeling you won’t do the same.”

“Well, we’re still on the clock…” She trailed off, embarrassment settling upon her. Was she being too rigid? “Um, where do we sleep?”

The question caught him off guard, because he blinked in surprise and suddenly averted eye contact. “…here, or the meditation lounge. Let me know what you prefer, and I’ll take the other place.” He returned to his computer, and she hurried to her own.

She typed her login info and fervently watched her monitor. It was going to be a long night.

***

It was actually easy to lose herself in work. Her inbox was full of tasks: reports to write, necessary edits, data checks, the occasional survey. Each completion was accompanied with a little rush of satisfaction, enough to buoy her through the next item. And when midnight was signaled by a soft chime, she stretched her arms above her head.

“Sounds like it’s time for a break.” Kougami stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Midnight snack. Do you want to come to the cafeteria?”

“Sure. I’m at a good stopping place, only five more to go.”

He raised his eyebrows at that, holding the door open for her. “You’ll be done early.”

“I was going to work on pending tasks, the ones that won’t be active until next week. I might as well get a head start on them.”

“You should teach the others a thing or two about efficiency.”

“Not you?”

“I always settle my business.” He said with finality, jamming a thumb against the elevator button. “But you have an admirable work ethic, and as a detective, it’ll pay off.”

As a detective. It was a distant image, a more confident woman who knew to make the right calls and judgment. But compared to her first day, it wasn’t as intimidating of a possibility. Slowly yet surely, she was getting there.

The cafeteria was eerily empty with just the idle drones, so she bought a single bottle of lemon tea and a cream bun. Kougami impatiently waited for his burger combo and agreed on eating in the workroom. Akane caught a glimpse of his screen, the black window of a video that had finished playing. She was curious but didn’t bring it up, plunging into her inbox once more.

By two, her eyelids started to falter. An uncontrollable shiver overcame her. Oh. So this was the grueling part of third shift. She blearily looked to Kougami, who was still typing. His gaze slid to her.

“If you’re tired, you should log off.” He said.

However, that meant either of them had to leave, and the vacant unlit hallway made her inexplicably nervous. She hedged. “I’ll rest my eyes.” And she really did try.

***

It didn’t last. The clanging of the alarm was so loud, Akane could feel it in her teeth. A noise escaped her, a half-scream of panic. “What’s going on?!”

“Psycho-Hazard.” Kougami was pulling on his fur-lined jacket. “Damn it. Why does something always happen at four in the morning?”

They stumbled out to the garage, boarding the paddy wagon. The ride was thankfully short; she would have fallen asleep if the teenagers had been any further away. A petty dispute had unfolded, messy romantic drama between three members of the group. It took multiple attempts with the Komissa mascots plus Kougami’s threatening lift of the Dominator, before they agreed to go to mental care without fuss.

And Akane had to write the report.

However, Kougami offered. “I can help with the sections that are duplicated in the Enforcer version. I’ll write them up and send the info.”

Then, it was silent except for the keys under their fingertips. She was making typing errors, which was embarrassing. Somehow, she powered through. Not her best, but all of the information was there in some way. She duplicated the text Kougami provided, and he rolled his chair towards hers.

“Let me read it over.” He was fast yet thorough, pointing out a clarification here and there. He must have read many Inspector reports, to be this experienced. Their sleeves were touching; she dimly noticed how his forearm was solidly muscled. At last, he nodded. “It looks great.”

“Thank you, Kougami-san. I couldn’t have done it without you.” She smiled, delirious with relief.

“You did most of the work, Inspector.” But his expression was approving, and he clapped her shoulder before rolling away. “You should sleep some more.”

“Okay.” Too exhausted to move any further, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She was anticipating his departing footsteps but they never came.

He’s staying here, I guess. That’s nice-

***

“Tsunemori.”

Akane jolted. “Huh?” Her mouth was dry, and she hastily sat up. Kougami’s hand slipped off her shoulder, which quickly cooled.

“It’s the end of our shift. You can rest at home.”

“O-oh. Okay. Did you need anything else, Kougami-san?” Her eyes felt swollen, and she rubbed them vigorously.

“No, I’m fine, about to head out. Good work, Inspector.” His voice was very low. This close, he smelled like cigarette smoke and coffee. Was he planning to continue working…and why?

But she could think about it when she was fully awake. Traveling to her apartment was a haze, and she didn’t even bother activating Candy for once. Instead, she collapsed on her bed and sank into warm dreamless sleep.

In the future, she wouldn’t mind working third shift again, if it was with him.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 5: Dana's Work Friend

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Friday, April 3rd, 1998. Scully comes into the office in a flurry of coat and red hair. She doesn’t greet him, just drops her briefcase on the desk and sinks into her seat across from him.

“Mulder, I have a favor to ask of you, and you’re probably going to hate it, so just bear in mind that I have exhausted all my other options,” she says, somewhat breathless.

“You’re really selling it,” he deadpans. “What is it?” he asks, settling into his chair and leaning his elbows on the desk.

“You remember Mark,” she prompts, and he nods. Ugh. If only he could forget.

“Well, it turns out that Mark is extremely - almost agonizingly - social, despite having a demanding job and a young child to raise.”

“Sounds awful,” Mulder comments.

“Hence my current predicament. He’s invited me and my friends out for drinks tonight, so his friends can meet me and I can meet his and he can meet mine… “ she rambles before refocusing herself. “He’s not aware that I’ve lost contact with most of my friends. You’re kind of the only one left.”

Mulder had suspected as much, but confirmation of her increasing social isolation is like a punch in the throat. “Are you sure there’s no one else?” he asks softly, not wanting to rub salt into any wounds.

She shakes her head, lips pressed together. “Unless the Lone Gunmen count as my friends,” she replies. “Which in this case is somehow worse than having none at all,” she muses, some humor in her voice.

“Good point,” he chuckles. “Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, and he melts all over again. He’d do anything for her. Even if it means meeting Mark. Ugh.

“It’s worth mentioning,” Mulder says after a moment, “If you don’t want to go, you can always just not go.”

“Shockingly, I have thought of that,” she says dryly, opening her briefcase and pulling out a folder. “But I think it would be good for me to meet people and hold conversations that aren’t related to criminal or paranormal activity. Might be good for you, too,” she adds, glancing up at him.

He pulls a stack of files out of his inbox on the desk. “I’ll stick to ‘ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night’,” he says.

“‘Good Lord, deliver us',” Scully replies, finishing the old prayer.

Mulder looks up at her and finds her smiling at him, and his whole body flushes with heat and adoration.

“Let’s elope,” he says, and she rolls her eyes fondly before burying her nose in her work.

I’m not kidding, he yells inside the prison of his own thick skull.

After work he and Scully drive straight to the bar together, a yuppie place in Foggy Bottom near George Washington University Hospital.

“Have you ever been through their ER?” Scully asks, scanning the street for parking. “I imagine you’ve been through enough hospitals to warrant a map on the wall with little pins stuck in it.”

“I can’t possibly remember them all at this point,” he says absently, tugging at his seatbelt uncomfortably. Why is he nervous? He’s just here to show Scully’s man friend that she’s not entirely a basement-dwelling hermit.

And Mulder’s the best she could do? God, maybe she really does need to get out more.

She parks, and he feeds the meter while she touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror. She looks sweet and and rosy, flushed with nerves and traffic, and he could so easily scoop her up and kiss her-

“Alright,” she says, climbing out of the car and closing the driver’s side door a little harder than necessary. She smooths her hair down. “I’m ready for battle.”

“I’m prepared to fall on my sword,” he assures her, guiding her onto the sidewalk with a hand on her lower back before realizing he probably shouldn’t touch her so familiarly when her… friend might see.

“It’ll be fine,” she says over her shoulder as she grasps the bar door’s handle. “Just behave,” she hisses, and they enter.

The onslaught is immediate.

“Dana!” a voice calls out through the bustling bar, and Mulder sees a man waving them over. He’s got neatly styled dishwater blond hair, broad shoulders, and dimples at the corners of his mouth as he smiles at them. Not bad, Mulder thinks, unsure of how to feel about this new information.

He barely has time to process it before they’re enveloped in a tight swarm of strangers. The blond man, presumably Mark, loops an arm around Scully’s shoulders and gives her a side-hug.

“So glad you could make it, Dana,” he says, and proceeds to go around the circle of people and rattle off names Mulder has no reason to remember. Instead, he watches Scully, the way she greets each person as they’re introduced. She’s cool and calm, smiling politely, shaking hands and saying ‘nice to meet you’ to each of the five - no, six - people in the group.

“I’ll grab you two some drinks,” Mark says, glancing at Mulder. “What’s your poison?”

“Shiner,” Mulder says.

“Same for me,” Scully says. “I’m going to freshen up-”

“Sure,” Mark says, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Two Shiner Bocks coming up.”

That’s how Mulder and this exuberant, Golden Retriever of a man end up sitting at the bar together, nursing sweaty beers and waiting for Scully to return from the bathroom.

“So you’re a work friend of Dana’s?” Mark asks over the noise of the bar.

Mulder was about to set his drink down, but he reconsiders and takes another swig. “In a manner of speaking,” he replies.

Dr. Mark Whatever-the-fuck seems confused. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“I’m her partner,” Mulder says flatly. Since 1993. I’ve seen her naked, cradled her injured body my arms, saved her goddamn life. Have you?

“Oh!” Mark says, clearly making mental connections. “Oh. Sorry, I just- it’s nice to meet you… Fox?”

“Just Mulder’s fine,” he corrects him.

Mark laughs. “Sorry for the confusion on my end; I think Dana only said your name once and I went and assumed Fox Mulder was a woman. And you know what they say about assuming,” he adds with a nudge.

Once. Only once? Maybe that shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. Whenever he meets someone new in Scully’s life they always throw out the usual ‘I’ve heard a lot about you’ line, so he knows she talks about him to others. But not to this guy. Why not to this guy?

Mercifully, Scully returns from the restroom. Mark hands her her beer. “Thanks,” she says softly, giving him a small smile with her lips closed tightly, which strikes Mulder as odd. He knows she’s somewhat self-conscious about smiling with her teeth, but something he sees in her face doesn’t feel quite right.

Of course it doesn’t feel right to you, he thinks. She’s smiling at some other guy.

They’re swept along in a current of conversation, scrambled introductions, and drink orders. He’s introduced to a handful of people he’ll selectively erase from his eidetic memory, standing across from Scully in their little circle instead of by her side. He doesn’t like it. Another man has his hand on her back, although respectfully keeping it between her shoulder blades. Any lower and Mulder would have to excuse himself to have a panic attack in the alley behind the bar. Or throw up.

He’s glad Mark’s friends aren’t particularly interested in making conversation with him; he’s tired and ready to go home. Luckily, the Doctor himself calls the night early, at half-past eight.

“I promised the little one I’d be home to tuck her in,” he explains, and Mulder’s stomach turns from the purity and sweetness of it. “She gets to stay up a little later on Fridays.” He gives Scully another half of a hug and says his goodbyes.

The group disperses pretty quickly after Mark leaves, and Mulder and Scully are left alone outside the bar.

“So, you met Mark,” Scully says simply.

“I did, yeah.” He can sense that she wants him to say something more. “He seems... nice,” Mulder adds.

Scully nods. “Yeah, he’s nice.”

Mulder’s beginning to think ‘nice’ is the only word anyone’s capable of using to describe this guy.

“I’ll bet Bill’s gonna love him,” he comments, hoping he doesn’t sound as bitter as he feels.

Scully shakes her head, smiling. “I knew there had to be a flaw in him somewhere,” she jokes.

Mulder surprises himself with a huffed laugh. This moment with her is strangely precious, despite the circumstances. He doesn’t know how many moments like this he has left, if he’s being honest.

“I’m happy for you,” he says tenderly, and maybe if he says it enough it’ll be true. She deserves this, he reminds himself. It’s become almost a mantra, a lead weight that keeps him from drifting away.

“Are you?” she asks, catching him off guard. “I caught you staring holes into him more than once.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder says defensively. “This is just my face.”

She gives him a look that clearly says ‘I call bullshit’, and he folds. “He didn’t know who I was,” he says, and it sounds monumentally stupid out loud. “He though Fox Mulder was a woman.”

“I-I don’t know why he would have thought that,” Scully says, pensive. “I never implied-”

“Fox is an unusual name,” Mulder interrupts. “It’s an honest mistake if you just hear it without any context.”

Scully looks down at her feet. “I’m sorry about that,” she says softly. “About all of this. I owe you one.”

Mulder reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, and it seems to have a grounding effect on both of them. “I’ll put it on your tab,” he says.

“Do you want me to drive you back to work?” she asks. They’d left his car in the garage at the Hoover building.

Mulder shakes his head. “You’re almost home,” he says. “I’ll get a cab.”

He ends up walking instead.

The night air cleanses his senses as he makes the half-hour trek back to the Bureau. Their time in the bar had felt sluggish and hazy, despite the fact that he only had a beer and a half. He spend the entire evening focused on Scully, the only sharp image amidst the blur of patrons.

Mark hadn’t kissed Scully goodbye, and Mulder’s relief at not having to witness it was overshadowed by a morbid curiosity. She and Mark had been dating for three weeks; he’s not sure how often they’ve actually gone out, due to the doctor’s shift schedule, but he assumes they’ve seen each other a few times at mass in addition to whatever outings they’ve gone on in the evenings. That was ample time to get to know each other physically on some level, wasn’t it? A peck on the cheek at least.

Mulder’s biased; he’s touch-starved and in love with her. He spends most of his nights on his couch in the dark, touching himself and thinking about Scully. Kissing her, taking her clothes off, tasting her; his mental catalogue of scenarios is robust and well-used. If given half the chance to love her…

Maybe that’s it, he thinks somberly, stepping over sidewalk cracks. Maybe chances are taken, not given.

That’s not how he wants to love her. He wants her to choose him all on her own, and yet he never let her know he was a choice. And now there’s Mark.

But Mark doesn’t kiss her.

[roberttchase]

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

[chocosvt]

preview | kmg fic.

! read the full fic here !

✧✎ a/n: this is a preview to my summer mingyu fic! this includes the very first portion of the story, which in its entirety 50k+ words rip. so i thought a preview might be a cool idea! ALSO!! i’m thinking of making a taglist so if u r interested pls let me know, whether that’s thru dm’s or my inbox! 

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 858 ⚬ genres: SLOWBURN, back and forth PINING, angst, summer romance, spice/nsfw mentions and smut, eventual friends to lovers, brief high school!au, fluff, slight love triangle, lots of teasing/flirting.

✧✎ synopsis: when you graduate high school, you realize you’re not really going to miss anyone, apart from a cute boy who doesn’t even remember your name. five years later, after accepting an offer to pass the summer at a friend’s lake house, he’s standing right in front of you. the universe doesn’t give second chances very often. you’re not going to let the honey boy slip away twice. 

It’s graduation day, and you’re standing in the main foyer of your small high school, next to a table that is lined with different platters and refreshments. The line moves slowly as the students fill their paper plates. You keep staring at the gold tassel hanging off the back of Joshua’s cap, how it bobbles from side to side while he balances the plate on his arm and stacks it high with wafer cookies, flavoured in vanilla and strawberry. He grabs the last chocolate milk carton and you sigh quietly. It feels weird. You’re never going to see Joshua again once he relocates for business school.

In fact, you’re never going to see approximately ninety-eight percent of these students again. You look at some people, and you’re fucking relieved. Then you look at others, and there’s a dull disappointment. It’s not that your companionship was anything extraordinary, but there was gleeful memories and conversation and turning around in your seat for the hundredth time to ask for another pencil lead. The line continues to shift forward and you start reaching for a cupcake, but the person behind you darts much quicker, plucking it without a second thought.

You sigh again. It’s not worth it.

By the time you escape the line, your plate is rather sparse: some dry crackers, a couple pieces of cubed mango, and a juice box. The longer you stare at your plate, you come to accept that you’re not even hungry. Thankfully, Soonyoung slips by like a minnow following a shiny lure and you manage to stuff the plate into his arms. He’ll eat anything.

At the opposite side of the foyer, the yearbook committee are making their sales. You buy a yearbook and flip through the laminated pages, scoffing at a few photographs, impatiently skimming by the ones that you could care less about, until you come to the end of the book and there’s some blank pages meant to be inked with signatures. Joshua signs your yearbook, adding a poorly coloured-in heart beside his name. Soonyoung signs too, his handwriting slanted awkwardly across the paper, crumbs falling from the cookie shoved in his mouth which leaves grease on the surface.

A few others write their messages, and you think you could be satisfied. Jane, your chemistry partner for the entire first semester, just finishes signing the book when she spares a quick glance over her shoulder. She scribbles her name down in an indiscernible ribbon, pushes up her thick, foggy glasses, and calls out,

“Mingyu, wait! Let me sign your yearbook!”

Jane doesn’t even lend you a smile before she’s hurrying away. You want to bristle at how little she cares, but the indignance never reaches a boil, not when she had perfectly good reason for treating you like wadded bubblegum stuck in a wrapper.

It is Mingyu after all. He pokes above all his friends, pressing their yearbooks to the wall so he can sign them. When you look at Mingyu, something inside you flutters. At times, you smother the feeling in a crushing grip. And other times, you allow the feeling to bloom, a garden of often misconstrued, adolescent emotion.

You approach Mingyu and wait until the crowd thins. He laughs at an inside joke that Jane had written in his yearbook, to which you see that his braces are now removed, teeth straightened and pearl-white. He licks at his right canine as Jane plays with the end of her side-swept braid and reads the note that he scribbled for her.

She cups a hand to her mouth, “I still can’t believe we did that.”

Mingyu huffs a little too pridefully. “It was mostly you, but whatever.”

“You instigated it!” She laughs, hitting his chest.

Eventually, Jane wanders elsewhere in the foyer. The only two people in the corner are you and Mingyu. He squints at you transiently, then rubs his nose. You feel a bit like a criminal asking him to sign your yearbook, like it’s a grave offence, prompting the enormous lump in your throat as he takes hold of the book and clicks his pen. The point touches the paper, but leaves only a black dot.

“Damn... Uh… Sorry ‘bout this. What’s your name again?”

Oh.

The air becomes dry. It settles like powder. Irritable, chalk-like powder. Mingyu studies you patiently, his gaze gentle, mouth slightly parted while he awaits you to say anything really. The words start piecing together through your stutters.

“T-That’s okay. I-It’s—”

“Mingyu!”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu’s best friend was grabbing at the collar of his black cloak, jerking him away from the corner with a babble about how he was requested at the gymnasium, quote unquote, principal’s orders. Unable to sign your yearbook, Mingyu returns it without so much as an apologetic glance, instead swept away by Seokmin into the sea of mingling graduates. Alone in the corner, you look down at the paper, where there is nothing but a single dot. A spot of ink. The start of an affection and its blunt, unrequited end. You close the yearbook with your third sigh.

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.

✧✎ a/n: as i mentioned this is just a preview! i’m still combing through the original fic and fixing stuff up :-) lmk if u’re interested in being on the taglist!! i’m not going to do this for every fic, but since this one is sorta like a holiday special  (if that makes any cents) i thought it would b cool!

[dead-fandom-imagines]

The world REALLY needs more Jesse Pinkman x reader. I recently rediscovered my huge crush on him, and I was surprised to find almost nothing. I’m thinking about trying out writing them myself, but I don’t even know where to start

I FEEL YA. I have some in my drafts but they're not quite finished yet, but you should 100% start your own blog because we need more Jesse Pinkman on Tumblr oml 😩.

That man just needs a good hug and a healthy relationship for once in his life.

The easiest way to make a blog about imagines, headcanons, and such is to just make a side blog and go for it. There isn’t really a “starting” point. All of my accounts started with me saying, “hey, I want to start doing this for this fandom.” So I did. I would make a whole side blog dedicated to whatever fandom it is (funny enough this particular account is the only exception) and work from there. 

The hardest part is motivating yourself when there isn’t much traction. My first few posts on my other account had zero followers because it was brand new, and getting people to anonymously ask for prompts is even harder at this stage because readers don’t know your skills yet. So honestly, write what you want right now, and the people will follow.

Take some of your own headcanons and ideas and toss them in the bowl and pick what you want to write that day. Or, you can do what I did and the first post you make is asking people to submit requests, but again, traction is slow, so you might only get one or two, perhaps even none as I’ve had that happen before too. 

Just write what you want and move forward from there. For example, I have a couple such as: 

Jesse x Chubby reader

Any of the Salamanca nephews with standard reader

Walter White x standard reader

Gus Fring being secretly in love with reader

Jesse Pinkman’s Post canon routine

On my other accounts, I usually keep headcannons at a minimum of six to eight paragraphs. Super quick and straight to the point and you can even get away with doing less depending on the idea. You can be as specific as you want (Such as the Gus Fring one) or being generalized and short (such as what Jesse’s routine be post El Camino). It really depends on what type of write you want to be and just move on from there.

I have a hard time sometimes too :) So don’t be discouraged when you can’t find an audience or can’t find the motivation. My inbox and ask box are always open if you want to know some writing tips and or character tips! (Please someone let me use my psychology and English degree for something)

I’m not the best writer or behavioral analysist out there, but I’m always willing to help those of you out there who want to make the gosh darn best tumblr content you can create. 

Have fun! And I hope I start seeing some more Jesse Pinkman stuff in the coming years. 

-Kitty

[equustenebris]

Duckverse Writing Masterpost

I'll add to this list in the future! And as always, drabble prompts are welcomed and encouraged, especially any MD/Gyro prompts 🤗 My inbox is open!

Everything is cross-posted on my AO3 account!

Drabbles

Chamomile Tea - Gyro's overworking himself, as usual, and the Mad Ducktor takes it upon himself to put a stop to things.

Molting - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] Some short, fluffy morning cuddles on the couch when the chickens start their fall molt.

Grass - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] After the events of Blame Gravity, Mads takes a break outside. Short and sappy.

Casts - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] Gyro deals with the unfortunate reality of having casts. Mads has his own ideas about how to help him cope.

Movie Night - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] Set after Blame Gravity. Gyro falls asleep during date night. Some cute madro fluff.

Migraines - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] A few months after the end of Blame Gravity, Mads is struck by a brutal migraine. He's used to taking care of himself all alone, but Little Helper extends a bit of unexpected kindness so he doesn't have to.

Party - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] 200 word challenge, Blame Gravity-verse. Mads greets Gyro the morning after coming home from a party.

Metallic Potassium - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] 100 word challenge, Blame Gravity-verse. After an accident in the lab, Newton and Mads rest on the couch.

Seasick - 250 word challenge. While in university, Copernicus and Cartesius need to travel by boat for a class project, much to Copernicus's chagrin.

Scars - 400 word challenge. After a reconciliation that means the twins are spending more time with each other, Copernicus notices something new about Cartesius.

Fics

Blame Gravity - After Gyro gets injured in a lab accident, he has no idea how he'll finish any of his outstanding orders for inventions -- or pay any of his upcoming bills. That is, until the Mad Ducktor arrives on his doorstep with a dilemma of his own, and an unconventional way to solve both their problems at once.

Chapter 1 - Something for Nothing - Gyro gets an unexpected visitor. Chapter 2 - Oil and Bubble Baths - MD settles in to his new domestic life while Gyro tries to hold it together, more or less successfully (for now). The same cannot be said for the lab once MD's done with it. Chapter 3 - Nightmares - When MD's suddenly plagued by nightmares that keep him awake, MD and Gyro are forced to debate trust in their own ways. Chapter 4 - Dr. Jee-cle and Mr. Hyde - Touch-starved MD can’t stop thinking about how to finesse more affection from Gyro while he still can, but Gyro’s attention is elsewhere. At the same time, Gyro’s new questions for MD have got him diving deeper into what it means to be the Mad Ducktor, whether he wants to or not.

Whumptober 2021, chicken edition

One. All Trussed Up and Still Nowhere to Go - Gyro tries his hand at stopping the Mad Ducktor. It doesn’t exactly go as planned.

Two. Talking is Overrated - The Mad Ducktor has Gyro bound and gagged, but it turns out he’s not as helpless as he thinks he is.

Three. Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But... - Newton Gearloose has a bully.

Six. Touch and Go - Gyro brings a Christmas present to the imprisoned Mad Ducktor.

Eight. Coughing Up a Lung - The Mad Ducktor falls off the top of the Money Bin, but things don't go as expected when he drags himself to the hospital.

Ten. Oops, I Did it Again - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] Sequel to Sixteen. On a Need to Know Basis. After his drink was spiked at a party, Mads is doing better, and thinks he's made a (nearly) full recovery -- but he isn't out of the woods yet.

Sixteen. On a Need to Know Basis - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] While at a party, someone spikes Mads's drink. When it makes him terribly ill, Gyro does some caretaking.

Eighteen. The Doctor is In - Newton wakes up one morning with a searing migraine. When Gyro has to leave him alone in the doctor’s waiting room, a “stranger” steps in to help out.

Nineteen. Just a Scratch - While the twins are at university together, Cartesius stumbles home one night drunk and bleeding. Copernicus tries to patch his wounds, but there are some that Cartesius refuses to mend.

Twenty-five. Hide & Seek - After a fight with the Duck Avenger leaves the Mad Ducktor injured, he slips into Gyro's house for some supplies, believing Gyro to be asleep. He should have known better than that.

Twenty-nine. All Work and No Play - [Blame Gravity-verse] [MD/Gyro] Sequel to Sixteen. On a Need to Know Basis, and Ten. Oops, I Did it Again. After returning home from the hospital, Mads gets a bit of a rest (and some muffins) while he recovers on the couch. In the meantime, however, Gyro is struggling to keep up with invention orders without Mads's help and is wearing himself thin. His brother and Newton step in to give him a hand.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 3 Hobbit Plot Bunnies

Title: Second Chance at a Happy Ending

Summary:  Modern Reincarnation AU. Thorin is the CEO of Erebor Industries and Bilbo is a reclusive paralegal. Two people who have no business existing in the same universe as each other, and yet they dream of each other from the time of The Hobbit. So when Gandalf offers Bilbo’s services in regards to a legal problem in Erebor, well it’s a second chance neither of them thought they would be lucky enough to receive.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Thorin struggles with PTSD

POV: Switches between Bilbo and Thorin

It was happening again. The dreams. It wasn’t every night. In fact, sometimes Bilbo would go months, even years, without having one. However, every single one of them was as vivid as the last and seemed to haunt him for the rest of the day.

“You! What were you doing?” The injured dwarf commanded relying on the help of his kin to regain his footing.

“You nearly got yourself killed!” He continued taking a step closer. “Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild? That you had no place amongst us.”

At this point he was mere inches away. Close enough that Bilbo could feel the warmth radiating off of him and the glare burning into him. Not that he was able to raise his eyes higher than the dwarf’s booted feet.

“I have never been so wrong in all my life.” The dwarf sighed in relief before enveloping Bilbo in a tight hug.

Bilbo stiffened completely unprepared for the embrace, and he was certain his jaw was dropped in surprise. Being in his arms though...a smile split his face as he hugged back just as tightly amidst the cheers of the remaining company. Too soon, the dwarf stepped away looking him over as if to double check that he was alright.

“I am sorry I doubted you.” He stated, his eyes full of guilt.

Bilbo shook his head, his chest burning under that look.

“No, I would have doubted me too.” He answered. “I’m not a hero or a warrior...or even a burglar.”

Never once did the dwarf’s sky eyes waver. Never once did his soft smile wane. Bilbo would have done anything to always have that smile on him. However, the sounds of eagles screeching seemed to drag both of their gazes away, and when Bilbo looked back the dwarf was staring over the top of his head, his mouth agape. As he walked ahead, Bilbo spun around as well only to see a single mountain rising out of the expanse as if trying to reach out to the rising sun.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo questioned following the dwarf to the edge of the ledge they were standing on.

“Ere.... The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.” A familiar voice answered.

“Our home.” The dwarf breathed reverently.

Bilbo stared at him with a smile appreciating his strong profile as his eyes stayed glued on the mountain. Somewhere behind them there was something about a bird.

“We’ll take it as a sign.” The dwarf grinned looking over at Bilbo fondly. “A good omen.”

Bilbo felt his chest puff up in pride as he nodded along. He turned back towards the mountain as if it held all the answers to his problems.

“You’re right. I do believe the worst is behind us.”

Bilbo truly believed it too. And then there was a giant golden eye glaring at him.

Bilbo gasped, his hand reaching for his ring finger, yanking at something that wasn’t there. When he finally had his wits about him again, he fell back against the pillow rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at his alarm clock with a groan. It was still too early to get up.

He fiddled with the lamp on his side table before reaching for the notebook in his first drawer. His mother had taught him to keep a dream journal back when he finally decided to confess them to her. The beat-up twenty year old spiral was full of torn and stained pages that contained detailed accounts of the odd encounters with the dwarf king he had taken to nicknaming Oak. 

Once he wrote down what he remembered of the dream, he flipped to the back where he had been working towards a sketch of Oak. The problem was, as clear as he could see him while dreaming, the image always tended to flicker away from his consciousness the moment he woke up. All he had so far was a very detailed set of eyes with a rather striking nose. When Bilbo finished eking out every last moment he could remember, he carefully put the notebook back in the drawer and hopped up to make a pot of coffee before starting his day.

Not that long ago, his morning would consist of fighting his way into a suit to get out the door with plenty of time to fight the Tube’s morning commute to one of the top law firms in London. However, the death of his mother three years ago had him re-evaluating his priorities. So he said goodbye to the spacious apartment, goodbye to the hustle and bustle of Zone Two, and retreated north to Lancashire. He would have quit his job as a paralegal completely, but Gandalf Grey, one of five partners at Maiar Law, refused to accept his resignation.

So here Bilbo was, receiving his workload via email, and going outside only for groceries and to mess around in the garden in order to preserve his image from total and complete hermit. Not exactly where he pictured himself at thirty-four that was for certain. He was in the process of seeing what exactly Gandalf had in store for him today knowing he still needed to finish putting together the information on the Proudfoot case only to narrow his eyes at the strange email in his inbox.

As he opened it and scanned the contents, he immediately had his phone in hand and Gandalf’s name highlighted before he even stopped to think of whether it was a good idea or not. Especially considering it was 6:30 in the morning.

“Bilbo! My dear fellow, how are you on this glorious morning?” Gandalf’s voice answered.

It was almost obnoxious how cheery he was.

“Do you at all remember our conversation last week?” He demanded, skipping the pleasantries.

“Of course.” Gandalf returned.

“You came all the way down to my house and said there was a job for me in London if I wanted it, and I told you I was fine where I was.” Bilbo prompted further.

“I dare say my memory hasn’t failed me quite yet.” Gandalf huffed. “I recall the conversation.”

“So then why in the world do I have an email from Erebor Industries confirming my 2pm appointment with someone named Thorin Durin?!”

“Because I thought your argument was a load of poppycock.” Gandalf scoffed. “So I took the liberty of accepting for you.”

If the man was standing before him, Bilbo would throttle him. He swears he would.

“No, absolutely not. I won’t do it.” Bilbo snarked, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Can you give me one good reason why you shouldn’t?” Gandalf pestered.

“How about the fact that I only stayed with the firm because you allowed a work from home clause to my contract? How about the fact that I’m woefully underprepared to meet with one of the richest CEOs in the UK? Oh and if those aren’t good enough, let’s bring up the fact that I’M NOT ACTUALLY A LAWYER!” 

There was silence on the line for a long moment. Long enough for the anger to slowly dissipate out of Bilbo.

“Bilbo, what you’re doing right now isn’t living. It’s existing. The world isn’t there in your little cottage amongst your books and garden. It’s out here. Come back to us. Besides, all I need you to do is gather information on what Mr. Durin needs our services for. You’re not to advise him in any way, and he’s well aware of this fact. Just this one small favor, and I’ll leave you to your precious Shire.”

Something ugly and painful welled up in Bilbo’s chest at Gandalf’s words. What did he know anyways? Bilbo was perfectly content here in his mother’s house. Perfectly content.

“I’m sorry Gandalf, but you have the wrong person for the job.” He murmured softly.

“Well…” Gandalf’s disappointment rolled through the phone in waves. “I don’t believe that is true. But if this is what you wish, I won’t press the matter. Take care of yourself, Bilbo Baggins.”

With that, he ended the call, and Bilbo numbly set his phone down on the countertop. Well that was that. He decided to pitter about the kitchen and start on something for breakfast. Probably just eggs and toast. He pretended the silence of the house wasn’t oppressive in the least.

He took a shower, dressed in something sensible, and settled himself into his study again with a nice cuppa. He fished a pair of reading glasses out of the pocket on his jumper, staring at the documents to do with Mr. Proudfoot’s case. However, he couldn’t take in the words. His mind was elsewhere. He felt relatively guilty for his behavior towards Gandalf. Maybe he could just put together some information about Erebor Industries that could help whoever was going to take his place.

He opened up a search tab on his computer and started reading through the google listings. He knew the company for it’s massive steel mill, but he had no idea they had a jewelry chain, and that they made weaponry for the military. That seemed rather ominous until he read further and found out that Thorin Durin was a war vet. Medically discharged eight years prior for a shot in the chest that nearly collapsed his lung. Bilbo winced, rubbing his own chest in sympathy.

His search switched gears at that point, and he clicked on a page dedicated to the relatively young CEO. Forty-two, only surviving family was his sister and two nephews. Seemed to be a relatively private person. He found it odd that there were no scandals surrounding him or the company. It was odd for someone seeking legal counsel outside of his own company. Then, there at the bottom of the page, was a photo of Thorin Durin, and Bilbo swore his heart forgot how to beat. 

It was him. It was Oak, the dwarf king. Bilbo would recognize the face from his dreams anywhere. How though? How was this possible? Bilbo’s fingers traced Thorin’s haunted eyes and humorless face so unlike the soft smile from his dream this morning. In that moment, Bilbo wanted to do whatever he could to relieve this man of even a fraction of his worries.

Bilbo jolted. The meeting. He had to be there. No way was he missing out now. He checked his phone. He had time. He ran into his bedroom turning on the iron as he searched the closet for one of his good suits stuffed in the back. Twenty minutes later, he was all but flying to his car. It was going to be a long drive into London. He paused to send Gandalf a quick text before peeling out of the drive like his house was on fire. He had an appointment with destiny he was not about to be late for.

[humanperryfic]

A Twisted Time

There are two timers on Perry's wrist. One counting down until he meets his soulmate, the other counting down until his soulmate dies.

The good news? The first timer runs out today.

The bad news? So does the second one. 

Read on FF.net here and AO3 here. 

TW’s: Major character death, blood, injury, and disturbing hallucinations. 

Perry stares at his computer screen, watching the loading bar creep slowly across the screen.

Another half hour, and his operating system will be up to date- by early 2000's standards.

It's not like he can really complain. It would be a waste for him to have any sort of fancy tech in his cubicle, what with how often he's away from headquarters. It makes much more sense for him to have a better watch.

Sure, the computer is definitely a product of the ever-dwindling OWCA budget, but as long as it can still print his paperwork and run the report program, he's alright with it.

If, y'know, it would actually finish updating. He's been sitting here for almost an hour, waiting for the update to finish. At this point, he's considering just borrowing Agent W's computer.

If only he had stuck around a few more minutes yesterday to finish his report.

So he waits, scrolling through his inbox on his phone. One of the few programs actually running at the level expected of the current year.

Apparently the dish is down, so Monogram will be giving assignments in person today.

His phone buzzes in his palm. A text from Candace.

You're meeting your soulmate today, right?

Perry grins. Yes, yes he is. He pushes his sleeve just enough to bare the first vibrant purple timer on his wrist. Only ten minutes and thirty seven seconds until he meets his soulmate.

Only ten and a half minutes!, he texts Candace. I'll send you a picture when I meet them.

His grin falters when he catches a glance at the second timer on his wrist. The one that he hasn't shown the kids- or anyone, really. Only Lawrence. It's also on his OWCA papers and medical records, but that's different.

The calculations come naturally to him- he's only been doing them since he was old enough to understand the numbers.

He has six hundred and nineteen seconds until he meets his soulmate, and eight thousand, five hundred and forty six seconds until he loses them.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Perry's still staring at the green bar crossing the screen.

He picks up the ruler from his desk and holds it against the monitor.

Ten minutes, six millimeters. He leans back in his chair and does the mental math. One and two-thirds millimeters per minute, that's 0.0278 millimeters per second. Converted to miles per hour and...well, that number would be easier read in scientific notation.

Carl knocks on the cubicle wall. "Hey there, Agent P."

Perry waves. Good morning, Carl.

"We have a mission for you. If you'll follow me?"

Perry stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket.

Either way, he follows Carl through the cubicles.

"As you've likely read, the dish is down this morning," Carl says. "Besides, the Major wants you meet someone."

He looks up, just in time to not run headlong into the door frame of Monogram's office.

Instead, he runs straight into the agent already in there.

His wrist heats up, right where the timer is. Is this his soulmate? He wants to check, but it would be rude.

The agent turns around. "Well, hello there." Perry smiles. The man's voice is rough, with a strong German accent.

Perry shakes the man's outstretched hand. Hello, he signs, hoping that this man knows ASL.

"Oh, you prefer sign." The other agent nods. Hello, my name is Heinz. He pauses, a sheepish expression on his face. My grammar may not be the best anymore, sorry.

Perry smiles. I'm mute, not deaf, so you can speak if you'd rather. As an afterthought, he adds, Don't worry, your grammar is fine.

The Major clears his throat. "Agent P, meet Agent O. He's the top agent in OWCA Seattle."

Agent O (Heinz) beams. "Agent O, this is Agent P, our top agent here in the Tri-State Area."

Perry smiles and shakes his head. Best agent might be a bit of a stretch.

"Don't sell yourself short, Agent P. Anyway, you two are going to be going on an incredibly dangerous mission. You will be right here in the Tri-State Area, thwarting the menace known as Professor Puzzlement. He's jumped up seven notches on the Villain Scale, likely due to his new army of robot minions. Your job is to get in there and thwart him."

"Hang on. This evil guy is a local, and you brought me in from Seattle? Your top agent here should be able to take him. No offense, Agent P."

None taken. Actually, Perry takes some offense, but not towards Heinz. He's read the files on Puzzlement, the man is possibly the lowest man on the villain totem pole.

Monogram coughs. "I wasn't done."

Heinz looks sheepish. "Oh. Carry on."

"As I was about to say, Heinz, you were brought in from OWCA Seattle because of your mechanical abilities. We don't want these bots just taken down- we want to understand the tech behind them as well."

Well, that makes sense. When it comes to beating up evil scientists and blowing up their robot armies, Perry is the best in the game. Ask him to explain the how of those bots, and he's utterly useless.

Perhaps OWCA is looking to improve their tech through slightly uncouth ways.

(He can't say that he blames them. The budget dwindles more every year.)

"Once we get the dish back online, we'll send the coordinates and files to your watches. Good luck, Agents!"

They salute. Perry leaves the office, with Heinz right behind him.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Perry pulls Heinz into a nearby empty office, out of the hallway.

"Wait- Agent P- what are you doing? I don't even know your name."

My name is Perry, he signs, pulling his sleeve back just far enough to show his first timer, and I think you're my soulmate.

Heinz's mouth drops open. He scrambles to pull his own sleeve up, baring both of his teal timers to Perry.

The top one is at zero. Perry tries not to look at the second one, but he catches a glance anyway. Apparently, he's got some fifty years until he kicks the bucket.

The universe is cruel.

"Wow," Heinz breathes. "Soulmates with the cute agent I'm partnered with. Okay, I definitely don't regret taking this job."

Perry smiles, his face heating up at the compliment. You think I'm cute?

Heinz's cheeks flush a brilliant shade of scarlet. "Um, yes?"

This is going a lot better than he thought it would. Hopefully Heinz won't ask about the other...

"Say, can I see your other timer?"

...timer. Perry's blood turns to ice. He looks away, unable to meet his soulmate's eyes. He racks his brain for something to say, some explanation that won't give away the secret.

"Actually, I think I'd rather not know. It'd be kind of depressing, really. Especially if, like, I'm gonna die tomorrow. Yeah, I don't think I want to see."

Perry barely manages to keep himself from sighing in relief. Heinz has no idea how close he was to the truth.

At least he doesn't have to break the news.

Their watches both beep at the same time. The coordinates and files for the mission. The dish must have been fixed.

Shall we go stop a villain?

"Yeah, let's go." Heinz opens the door to the office, then holds out his hand.

Perry takes it.

~~~

Heinz insists that he drive over to the warehouse where Professor Puzzlement is said to be. Perry agrees, preferring to ride rather than drive the OWCA hovercars. Despite all his agent strengths, he's a horrible driver.

The wind whips through Perry's teal hair as they fly. Perry flips through the files on the Professor, looking for something he may have overlooked earlier, but there's really not much there. It seems like this mission is another case of over-inflated reports.

He turns his watch off and sits back, relaying his findings to Heinz.

"Yeah, it seemed pretty exaggerated. With anybody else, I'd believe an army of bots. Not this guy."

According to the records, his worst invention before this was a machine that was designed to cover the entire Tri-State Area in mashed potatoes.

"And they're sending two of us to deal with him."

Yeah. I mean, I'm not going to complain. It'll make things a lot more fun.

Heinz smiles, a bright beam that reflexively brings a smile to Perry's face.

"An easy job with my soulmate. What a day, huh?"

What a day.

"We'll probably be done before lunchtime. Do you think your Major will give you the rest of the day off?"

Probably not, but all I'll have to do is reports, and I could do those in my sleep.

"I have a feeling this one won't be particularly complex."

You're probably right. Perry pauses to consider something. When we get done, do you want to get lunch together?

"That would be great."

Heinz takes his right hand off the wheel to hold Perry's left, bringing a light pink blush to both their faces.

Perry doesn't tell him that the timer, the one only inches away from his fingers, won't let him live past noon.

~~~

A ring of bots greet them when they walk in the doors of the warehouse.

Apparently the scientist had built a robot army. Who knew?

(Well, OWCA knew, which is why they sent Perry and Heinz.)

No big deal, really. Perry's fought through far worse, and on his own.

"SURRENDER OR BE DESTROYED, OWCA SCUM," one of the bots booms in an electronic voice.

Perry and Heinz both draw their respective weapons. For Heinz, an EMP blaster designed to take out electronics. Perry doesn't really know how it works, but that doesn't matter. He prefers his own fists, reinforced with special fingerless gloves that prevent him from breaking knuckles on solid metal robots.

They grin and nod at each other before becoming a whirling flurry of attacks.

Heinz drops bot after bot with both EMP blasts and well-placed kicks. Perry kicks up off one bot and lands on another, piloting it into other bots as he punches in its head.

They make their way through the mess of mechanics, landing blow after blow. Perry jumps from bot to bot, prompting the mechanical monstrosities to fire on each other.

He watches as Heinz drops one bot with a blast, another with a spinning kick.

Perry's pretty much figured out why this guy is Seattle's best.

Soon, all the bots are either destroyed or deactivated. Perry jumps off the last bot, a fist of wires ripped from an exposed joint in one hand, landing on the floor next to Heinz in a fighting stance.

Heinz reaches out and fixes Perry's slightly askew fedora. Perry feels a blush come to his face, for the fourth (fifth? who knows?) time today. He smiles and straightens up, dropping the wires.

Their moment is interrupted with a loud, booming voice.

"Good morning, Agents," the voice says, "how utterly expected."

Perry looks up. A metal cage falls from the rafters. He pushes Heinz out of the way, narrowly avoiding being trapped himself.

The voice grumbles. Heinz laughs. "I've seen better traps from my grandmother."

"You insolent fools. I will soon become the supreme leader of the world, and you two will be the first I throw in lava."

Might want to start with the Tri-State Area, Perry signs, and Heinz grins.

"I really don't appreciate all this talking behind my back in front of me," the mysterious voice booms.

And I don't appreciate having to force myself through an army of bots, but here we are. Heinz disguises a laugh as a cough.

"If you have something to say, say it to my face."

But I am, Perry signs, summoning his most innocent expression. This time, Heinz's sharp laugh rings out.

Perry could listen to it all day.

"And you, his companion. I do not appreciate being made fun of."

Heinz elbows Perry. "Maybe we'd be more afraid if we, y'know, gazed upon your godly form or whatever."

"My godly form or whatever," the voice echoes, clearly patronizing.

"Yeah," Heinz agrees. "Like in the Greek myths, where if you gaze upon the god's true form, you die. Except you're mortal."

"I am a fan of Greek mythology," the voice admits. "So I shall allow you to gaze upon my 'true form'."

A pair of bots descend from the rafters, holding a man on their shoulders.

The professor steps off the shoulders of the bots.

Heinz lets out an incredulous laugh. "You? You're going to take over the world?" To Perry, he mutters "Even a real platypus could thwart this guy. And they don't do much."

Perry can't help but agree with Heinz's statements. The man standing in front of them is the stereotypical picture of a decrepit old man. Hunched, clutching at his back, holding tight to a cane with bony fingers.

"That is why I built the robots."

Perry takes a closer look at a felled robot near him. The design seems simplistic, and there are even more weak points than he had found during the brief battle. Heinz could probably point out even more.

"Are you even paying attention?" the Professor asks. Perry crosses his arms and leans back. Am I?

"You agents and your secret languages. Speak English," Puzzlement says.

Perry rolls his eyes. Would if I could. He dodges a robot lunging at him, then punches in its chestplate.

"And quit destroying my robots. Do you realize how long they take to make? You ungrateful OWCA agents..."

Perry tunes out the Professor's senile rant quickly. It's only a matter of time before he starts nattering on about his lawn. Considering that Heinz parked on the grassy strip in front of the warehouse, he just might. Perry turns to sign this to Heinz, who is elbow deep in the chest cavity of a robot. "Psst, Perry, come look at this."

Perry looks to where Heinz is pointing. To him, it makes no sense, but obviously Heinz can understand it.

Heinz continues to whisper. "I think I can fuse two of these bots together to create a single bot, that when moved in a specific way, will trip this kinetic motion sensor, causing these wires here to overheat, producing a mass of heat and light that we can harness as a weapon."

He looks at Perry's blank, confused stare and sighs. "Exploding robot nunchucks."

Perry grins. What do you need me to do?

~~~

Heinz has a streak of soot from one of the exploded robots across one cheek. Before he can stop himself, Perry reaches out and gently brushes some away with his thumb.

A soft smile crosses Heinz's face. Perry's hand lingers on Heinz's cheek.

No words need to be exchanged. The look in Heinz's eye tells Perry everything he needs to know.

Perry leans in, pressing his lips gently to Heinz's. His eyes slide closed, reveling in the smooth slide of Heinz's lips against his. Heinz slips his arms around Perry's shoulders, pulling him in close. Perry's hand moves to the back of Heinz's neck, fingers toying at the soft hairs there.

Too late, Perry feels the prick on the back of his neck. He rips himself away from Heinz to see the Professor, cuffs dangling from one bony wrist, wielding a hypodermic needle. A drop of something spills out the needle's tip.

Both he and Heinz lunge for the evil scientist.

Only Heinz makes it. Perry stumbles, spots dancing across his vision. The ground is rolling beneath his feet, he struggles to stay upright. The doctor tosses aside one syringe, but two hit the floor. Heinz punches the scientist, his fist shattering into a million pieces.

Perry's wrist erupts in pain. He falls to his knees, watching as the numbers there begin to twist themselves into different shapes, oozing blood.

He looks back up at Heinz and the Professor, fighting on the ground, but he can't tell who is who. A dull ache blossoms behind his forehead.

"Do you know the legend of Sisyphus, Peregrine Fletcher?" A whispering voice swirls around Perry's head, coming from both inside and out. When Perry doesn't answer, the voice continues.

"Sisyphus was an ancient Greek man who thought he could cheat Death."

The voice laughs. The blood emerging from the numbers on his wrist morphs from black, then green, then back to crimson red. Perry's hands tremble, his stomach twists up in knots.

"It didn't work out for him. In fact, when he reached the Underworld, he had a special, eternal torture waiting for him."

The voice spirals around and around. Perry turns his head, but he can't see anything. A dark fog has descended around him, leaving him in a spotlight of sorts. Muffled, mangled screams cry out from somewhere.

"Do you know what that torture was, Peregrine?"

Perry scrapes at the ground. Patterns erupt in the cement, spinning and twisting. The blood on his wrists turns to insects, crawling up his sleeves. He slaps at his arms, trying to get the bugs away, but they don't move.

"Sisyphus was cursed to spend all eternity pushing a boulder up a hill. However, whenever he was about to reach the top, the boulder would roll right back down. A futile endeavor. A metaphor for stopping death. A perfect reminder that nobody is above morality. Nobody, Peregrine."

A dark, hooded form descends in front of Perry. The form lifts Perry's chin with one cold finger, sending a shudder running down Perry's spine.

"Nobody can cheat death, Peregrine. The best doctor cannot save every life, nor can the best agent." The form spits out the word agent like a curse. Bile rises in Perry's throat. "Your lover will die today. Heed the legends. Do not try and prevent it."

Boulders fall and shake the floor. Dark dust rises, choking Perry, forcing him to cover his mouth and nose. The patterns on the cement still whirl, making Perry's eyes dip in and out of focus.

"You cannot save anyone from death, Peregrine Fletcher. You can try to be Sisyphus, but it will always turn out the same. Your loved ones will die, you will die, and you will be punished."

An hourglass appears, its sand frozen in place. The timers on Perry's wrist twist themselves into an identical hourglass, still dripping warm blood.

"Let the timer run out, Peregrine. It is inevitable."

The dark form snaps its fingers. The hourglass explodes, sand stinging Perry's skin. The one on Perry's wrist screams in pain. Perry opens his mouth in a silent scream. A hot, angry tear falls from his eye. He can't, he won't let the figure be right. He can change the timer. He will, he has to.

He blinks, and the mud, the boulders, the fog is gone. The cold of the cement bleeds through the fabric of his pants. Perry yanks down his sleeve to look at his bloodless numbers.

Two minutes left. Two minutes to do the impossible.

Perry pushes himself to stand. His head pounds, likely an aftereffect of the drugs. Black spots jump around his vision, threatening his balance.

He blinks rapidly to clear away the black patches. A scream rings throughout the warehouse.

Heinz. It has to be him.

Perry lunges towards the sound, his legs shaking. Forcing himself to move.

The scientist stands over a table, a bloodied knife in one trembling hand. Perry launches himself at the madman. The Professor falls to the floor, hitting his head, Perry landing right next to him. Perry pulls his handcuffs from his hat, cinching them tight enough to leave marks.

It's just a second too late. Heinz is bleeding from a gash on his side. He's strapped to the table, and Perry cuts the bonds. Heinz tries to sit up, but Perry pushes him back down.

You're not going anywhere with that cut. Perry pulls off his waistcoat and presses it to Heinz's side, attempting to staunch the bleeding.

"No," Heinz protests, pointing behind Perry. "Robots!"

Perry whirls around. A wall of metal monstrosities descend upon the duo. Heinz hands him the EMP blaster, and Perry manages to fell a few.

Too soon, it becomes crystal clear that they'll never make it this way. If Perry was alone, he could take the bots easily, but with an injured partner, the risk is already too high.

Perry hands Heinz the EMP blaster, then picks him up. His shoes slip on spilled liquid as he runs- he doesn't want to think about what it might be. Who's it might be.

The front door is miraculously unguarded. Perry runs through, kicking it shut behind him to buy just a few seconds.

He sets Heinz down in the front seat of the hovercar, jumping in the driver's seat. He presses his thumb into the scanner and the car's engine starts.

The car takes off, flying away from the warehouse. Perry's wrist heats up- a warning. He glances over at Heinz, who is both pressing the waistcoat to his side and firing off EMP blasts at the few robots giving chase.

His sleeve slips. Less than a minute. Perry presses his foot to the accelerator, willing the craft to go faster. Why did the warehouse have to be so far out in the middle of nowhere?

A blast rocks the the hovercraft, shaking the passengers inside. Smoke erupts from the back of the craft.

Perry barely manages to land the hovercraft in a field, carving divots into the muddy grass. There's a road not too far from their crash site, so Perry picks Heinz up and runs over. The robots are long gone, leaving the duo alone, on a dusty road between fields.

Perry twists the dial on his watch, sending out the agent-down signal. He has to try. One last fight.

Perry holds onto Heinz's hand. He's done all he can, but it's too little, too late. Heinz has lost too much blood. Perry's timer ticks down, seconds slipping away.

Heinz opens his eyes. Perry realizes for the first time that Heinz's eyes are a beautiful, icy blue.

"Perry," Heinz whispers, "show me your timer? Please?" The desperation in his voice is palpable.

A tear rolls out of Perry's eye. He nods and rolls up his bloodied sleeve to reveal the two timers. One stopped at zero, the other with twelve seconds left.

Eleven seconds.

Ten.

Heinz looks at the timer, then back at Perry.

Nine.

“You knew.”

Eight.

Perry nods, tears flowing faster and faster, carving clear paths down his soot-stained face.

Seven.

“And you still tried to save me.”

Six.

Again, Perry nods. He twists his watch again, willing the medics to come faster.

Five.

"Perry- I-" Heinz starts to speak again, but chokes, gasping for air.

Four.

He coughs, blood dribbling out the corner of his mouth.

Three.

Heinz manages to clear his airway. His grip on Perry's hand tightens.

Two.

"I love you," Heinz whispers, voice hoarse, eyes never leaving Perry's.

One.

A smile ghosts onto his lips, and he closes his eyes.

Zero.

Heinz's hand goes limp. Perry's hand darts up to his neck, checking desperately for a pulse, already knowing the answer awaiting his questioning fingers. There's nothing there.

Sirens wail in Perry's ears. Tires screech and doors slam. Paramedics lift Heinz onto one stretcher, Perry onto another. They're lifted into separate ambulances, then sped off towards the OWCA medical facilities.

Paramedics ask him questions, bandage his wounds. Perry only stares blankly at his wrist. The inked zeroes, formerly a vibrant shade of purple, slowly fade to black.

~~~

The next day, Perry sits in his cubicle, watching the bar cross the screen. This time, he doesn't check his inbox, or answer texts, or drink coffee.

He simply sits and watches the bar go across the screen, his eyes rimmed in red.

The green bar, just a single millimeter from the end, pauses.

The lights go out to groans and curses.

A few seconds later, they come back. A small outage, nothing unusual. Likely someone in Equipment testing something new.

Perry presses the power button again, and the now-empty bar comes back up. The green bar begins its crawl once more.

A futile endeavor. His modern-day rock of Sisyphus. His punishment for thinking he could defeat Death.  

Perry takes pride in the villain being wrong. But what do you do when the villain was inside you, playing on the inevitable reality of your worst fears?

What do you do when the villain is right?

Perry turns away, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. Fresh tears spring to his eyes, threatening to spill over.

His shoulders shake in a silent sob, his stoic expression breaking down into one of pain.

Perry pulls his sleeve down, covering the stopped timers on his left wrist. The numerals inked in jet black. Zero hours, zero minutes, and zero seconds until he meets his soulmate.

Zero hours, zero minutes, and zero seconds until his soulmate dies.

[mikes-on-prometheus]

Ok so stop me if I ever bother you with these prompts but: Non-serious fic with a tired dad deceit, hyper kid Remus, and danger kid Virgil (more fight than flight at that age). Bonus points for a also tired dad Patton with yet another hyper kid and a kid that is waaaay too curious for his own good. Maybe you could add in the theorized Orange as the punk older teen sibling

First off, I know this has been sitting in my inbox for well over two months now but you could never bother me with these!

Wordcount: about 1400

Warnings: Deceit, Remus, body horror (multiple eyes), mild violence, mild injury

—

Ah. Peace and quiet. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, his coffee was hot and just the way he liked it. Deceit loved mornings like this one. He could just relax and enjoy the common room of the ‘dark’ mindscape to himself.

This was the reason that mornings were his favorite time of day. That and the evenings, once Virgil and Remus were in bed. If they went to bed at all, that is.

He was only on his second cup of coffee when he heard a door slam open upstairs. Loudly. That was his peaceful morning over.

Remus came crashing down the stairs in his typical fashion, sounding more like a herd of elephants than a ten year old.

“Hi Mom, I’m hungry.” the little side screeched, immediately gong for the garbage to root through it for food. How he got into that habit, Deceit had no idea. He came with it already in place when he was yeeted into the dark side of Thomas’ mind.

“Remus, there is food literally on the counter next to you, get out of the trash!” Deceit scolded, pulling on Remus’ legs to pull him out of the bin. Then, as an afterthought he added “And I told you not to call me Mom!”

“But Roman calls Morality Dad! And he’s the only adult on the light side so why can’t you be Mom? You’re the one who takes care of us!”

He heaved a world weary sigh. Why couldn’t the kid just accept his request without questioning it. But oh well. Nothing he could do about it right now. Especially since Remus had found some food and was already scuttling off back upstairs again. Probably off to bother Virgil now. Chaos was about to become Even More ChaosTM. Great.

… Or not! Huh. the Mindsape stayed blessedly quiet instead of erupting into screaming as he had expected. Seemed like Remus just went to his own room.

Deceit wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he went back to enjoying his coffee. It seemed like his peaceful morning wasn’t quite over after all.

But eventually he finished his third cup and a bowl of cereal. Breakfast over, it was time to actually start the day so he got up again and cleaned his used dishes. Just for good measure he started up another pot of coffee. Maybe he could sneak a travel mug of it to the meeting he had with Morality.. Then he might be able to handle Remus and Roman together. Logic and Virgil were calm enough to not make the extra coffee necessary but the twins definitely did. 

Honestly - and Deceit can’t believe he’s actually being honest - Deceit hated these get togethers but he knew it was important to Remus because the kid missed his brother, even though he liked to deny it. Also, Virgil always seemed to enjoy Logic reading to him.

They would have to get moving relatively soon so technically he should be trying to get Virgil to eat something but the kid always got too anxious to eat before these meetings so Deceit had given up on it a while ago. He just made sure the kid had a snack once they got back.

Just as he finished the dishes he hears a door open. Audible but not a slam. Two sets of feet rushed down the hallway, telling him that Remus had apparently not retreated to his room but to Virgil’s. It sounded like he had bothered Virgil into waking up early.

Well, early for Virgil’s standards at least.

“Leave me alone! Stop it, Remus. Stop pushing me!” Deceit heard Virgil say just before both boys yelped. Then he saw Remus tumble down the stairs with a mighty crash. He landed in a heap at the foot of the stairs. As soon as the crash had faded into silence there was the tup tup tup of Virgil’s footsteps descending the stairs and using Remus’ tummy as a launch pad, ramming his little foot right into the soft flesh as he ran towards deceit.

“He was trying to push me down the stairs, Dee!” He tattled, looking up at him with all his eight eyes as he tried to climb up his body. Deceit hoisted him up, balancing the four year old on his hip.

“So you pushed him down the stairs instead, little spider? You’re all Fight and no Flight aren’t you? I would’ve thought you to be too little to do much of either.” He mused, walking over to the stairs to check on Remus. No injuries, just shock and a bit of windedness. “Have you learned your lesson about trying to go up against Fight or Flight yet?”

“Absolutely not! I’ll get him one of these days! Just ‘cuz he’s got his animal already doesn’t mean he’s stronger than me. He’s tiny!” Remus insisted, getting up only to point his finger at Virgil threateningly.

Deceit had the theory that Remus hadn’t developed his animal trait yet because he had spent spent half his life as a different side before that side split into Remus and Roman. It was… logical but that didn’t mean that Remus wasn’t salty about it.

“Of course, Remus. But that will have to wait until later because we will have to leave soon or we’ll be late to our meeting with the others.”

This got him a pout and a reluctant fine.

—

They crossed the passageway between light and dark a good hour later, after forcing Remus into clean clothes and smudging black eyeshadow under Virgil’s two main eyes to hide his little spider eyes. No need for the light sides to know what Virgil presented as after all. And no need to subject them to the abysmal smell of Remus’ week old clothing. Bad enough that he couldn’t force him to take a shower.

Patton was in the common room already and called Logan and Roman down when he saw the other three enter.

Roman and Logan came rushing down the stairs; Logan with a book and Roman with a wooden toy sword. The twins started wrestling the moment they were within reach of each other, very nearly bowling Logan over as well. He settled in with his back against the couch, next to Virgil who had curled up against the corner of the L-shaped couch.

Deceit and Patton settled on the couch to ‘catch up.’

“Soooo… How are things on your side of the mind?” Patton asked just like he always did.

“Oh, you know. Terrible. Remus definitely settled on an animal. He’s been absolutely bearable.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s good to hear. Maybe he’ll settle down a bit soon.”

Deceit only gave him an unimpressed look. Remus had and would never calm down. Even the thought of it was laughable.

“…. Right. Okay. So. Logan’s been reading Harry Potter ever since you mentioned it last time. He decided to read it to Anxiety today since he liked it so much and noticed that Anx seems to like listening to him read.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” he pointed out. Logic was quite excitedly reading to Virgil, the cover of his book visible to the two adults. And okay, fine, they were adorable. Virgil had curled up closer to Logic and seemed quite entranced by the nine year old`s voice and the story he was reading.

There was a moment’s peace before a wail split the air.

“Daaaad! Remus hit me!”

Patton sighed and got to his feet to check on Roman, getting him an ice pack to soothe the forming bruise on his shin. He returned with the ‘wounded’ half of Creativity, making him sit with them for a while. Remus joined them, bored on his own.

And this was… actually quite nice! The twins were quiet and sitting still and so were Logic and Anxiety. The only noise was Logic reading about Harry’s first adventure at Hogwarts. Deceit was almost tempted to fall asleep.

Then Remus started teasing Roman, Roman tackled Remus and they went right back to what they had been doing before.

Bye Bye, Quiet.

But oh well. It wasn’t like Deceit wasn’t used to things like this. Virgil being much smaller didn’t stop Remus from fighting him so the dark sides’ common room was rarely quiet.

The rest of their visit continued similarly. Roman and Remus kept playing and fighting while Logan managed to get through a good portion of his book, unbothered or ignorant to the fact that Virgil had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

—

Taglist:  @3-has-charm @adreamisadishyourmommakes @analogical-mess @bubbliee0 @iris-sanders-athena @letthefandomsbegin @emthetimelady @ilovereadingandilovebreathing @stormcrawler75 @soulwillriseinperfectlight

[plutoisaplanet16]

21 Reasons to Love Someone

(Damien Haas x reader)

#1. Their Smile 

Word count: 1,644

Warnings: none (SFW)

Buy me a coffee

Two words: Defy Media.

     At first excitement coursed Damien’s being as he thought about the prospect of having a job where he could sit around and play games all day. However, it did not take him long to feel the same way everybody else in the office did. You knew the pressure took a toll on him when the first thing he did after work was sleep. Damien’s personality shined through on camera, but being the entertaining ball of sunshine for so many videos each day overwhelmed him. When he came home he would say a mindless “hello y/n” and perhaps jokingly say “hello my baby geese” to Freyja and Zelda, but after that he would close the door to the bedroom and plop down on the bed. Sometimes he wouldn’t even bother to take his shoes off. Usually you would just leave him alone for a couple hours until you finished making dinner or the postmate had arrived.

“How was work?” you would ask as you handed him his meal.

He would always tell you, “It was good, but I won’t go into detail. Too much happened today; I’ll probably miss something if I try to tell you.”

     Damien would always laugh it off and pretend like it was nothing, but you knew better than to buy into his nightly act. After nearly a year and half of dating, you knew what Damien did when something bothered him. Comedy was his coping mechanism, but after the bright laughter ceased, his face fell into a blank expression: the sparkle in his eyes dulled, his normally rosy complexion seemingly drained in an instant, and lastly, silence filled the room. It was quite frankly the most bizarre phenomenon to behold. All you wanted to do was grab his soft face and kiss his forehead to try and convince him that everything would work out, but this wasn’t a fanfiction or a cheesy romantic comedy. People are more complicated than that.

     So that’s how you ended up awake at 3:17 a.m. scouring the internet for Harry Potter house robe cat costumes. Your dry eyes and blurry vision did not deter you from finding that one Esty shop that would grant you wish. Was each costume going to be $45 plus shipping? Yes. But did that stop you? No. This was a mission of love, and for Damien, you would go any distance to see that adorable goober genuinely smile.You were just about to place the order when Damien’s arm pulled you closer into his chest as he looked over your shoulder. Without thinking, you stupidly threw your phone across the room. Luckily it landed in a soft, plushy chair in the corner of the room. 

“Y/n, what was that about?” Damien shook his head. 

You struggled to find an answer, “Um...uh...”

“Do I even want to know?” he chuckled, “As long as it’s not Tinder I don’t care enough to lose any more sleep.”

“I would never cheat on you!” you exclaimed.

He sleepily mumbled, “I know. I’m too sexy.”

     You laughed to yourself as you left the bed to go retrieve your hopefully-not-cracked-phone. You quickly placed the order and crawled back into bed. It was rare that Damien ever complimented himself like that. It reminded you of the Damien you knew before Defy... the Damien who ruffled his hair and smoldered at the camera for a selfie. It was so nice to hear Damien still have his moments of confidence. It gave you hope that your plan would actually work.

5:15 pm. It was almost time.

     You had just finished making dinner, and you rushed to set the table neatly. To be honest, what you made shouldn’t even really be considered dinner because it was more or less a buffet of different movie food such as: M&Ms, twizzlers, chips and homemade dip, tiny sandwiches, and of course popcorn. You arranged them into a deliciously looking spread in the finest plastic bowls the dollar store had to offer. (Neither one of you would really want to do dishes anyway.) Once it looked perfect you turned towards the living room to hunt down Freyja and Zelda. You had the costumes neatly folded on the top of the  grey, cloth couch. Luckily Freyja was napping on the cushion below them; you petted her gently and unfolded her Ravenclaw house robes. She yawned and stretched right as you were about to wake her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sniffed the robe. Freyja backed away and her big, glossy eyes moved back and forth between you and the costume.

“It’s for Daddy, okay? Work with me here, please Freyja.”

     She meowed back like she understood, and from then on she was compliant. Next, you had to hunt down Zelda. It honestly amazed you how well that chonky cat could hide. You called out her name for what felt like forever until you yelled that Damien would be home soon. A small meow came from underneath the couch.

“Just what am I to you guys?”

Zelda came out and before she even knew what was happening, you squeezed her into her Hufflepuff robes, “Finally.” 

      Everything was almost perfect; the last thing you had to do was put on your own house robes and get all eight Harry Potter movies out of storage. Sure you would never be able to finish them all in one night, but both of you would give it a valiant attempt. Digging the movies out of the bin would prove to be a challenge because both of you were giant nerds that for some reason decided to just throw all your nerdiness into several boxes and NOT label them. In the fourth of six boxes is where you found the first three movies, and the rest were at the bottom of the fifth box. You decided that after all this was over you and Damien were sure to be doing some serious decluttering for the next week or so. Meanwhile, you had to go light some spooky looking candles, somehow avoid going ahead and digging into the scrumptious food, and put the first DVD in the console. 

     As the first movie finally loaded, Damien unlocked the door and walked in, “It smells like a theatre in here. What happ-”

     He stopped dead in his tracks when saw you with the Sorting Hat on your head and your Harry Potter robes. His face was full of wonder and confusion as he took a couple seconds to slowly look around and examine his surroundings. He giggled at the spooky yet romantic lighting as well as Hedwig’s Theme rattling the walls of the apartment. You hoped you two wouldn’t get noise complaints...again. Damien walked closer towards you, but soon Freyja and Zelda ambushed him by rubbing themselves up against his legs.

He looked down in disbelief, “Freyja...Zelda? Y/n?”

“I’m glad you know all our names,” you teased.

“What is all this? Their costumes? The candles? The food? Harry Potter?” he sat down on the floor next to you.

“Listen Damien, I know something has been up with you these past couple of weeks. I know you love Smosh and your job, and it doesn’t make sense to me why you would be hiding how you really feel from me,” you said.

“Y/n,” he sighed, “It’s complicated, okay? Half the time I don’t even know what’s going through my head when it comes to talking about my day. You are right. I love my job, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. However, I’m having a tough time right now. There are a lot of videos we film in one day, and for someone like me it can easily become too much. The biggest issue is our parent company itself never listening to us; it is so frustrating. I don’t like spreading that kind of negativity so I shove it away, but it seems it has still affected you. It’s hard for me to talk about, and honestly, I just want to figure it out on my own. I don't want to bring you down with me.”

You were kind of hurt that he didn’t feel comfortable telling you everything but you had to respect him, “It’s okay Damien. I won’t push you, but please let me in on some things. I hate sitting here watching you be miserable not being able do a single thing about it. I want to help you, and that’s why I did all this. Sometimes you walk in here, and it’s like I don’t even know who I am looking at. I believe you will find your footing at Smosh, and everyone will soon adore you. I know it didn’t take me long to fall in love with you.”

Damien blushed, “Oh really?”

     He smiled. He actually smiled. It was a complete 100% authentic goofy Damien smile that spread from ear to ear. He felt happiness deep down inside because of you, and that is all you could ever ask for. Being the ooey-gooey romantic person you are, you threw yourself onto him and gave him a big kiss on the forehead. No, that kiss wouldn’t really fix much, but it made both of your hearts melt. When you pulled away you looked at his face again; he was still smiling, but it wasn’t the same as it was a moment ago. Instead of bright and bubbly, it was a small adoring grin. His eyes bore into yours, and it was like everything else around you two disappeared. 

“Y/n?” he asked.

You answered, “Yes?”

He pulled you into his chest and tightly wrapped his arms around you. His soft heartbeat became like white nose to you, “How come you fell in love with me so fast?”

You pulled away from him and kissed his lips, “How could I not with that smile of yours?”

---------------

Hello! This is my first Smosh fanfiction I have ever wrote. I’m not new to the fanfiction writing world. I’ve had two wattpad accounts and even wrote on a BTS fan app for a while. I dropped this hobby of mine to focus on my senior year of high school. Recently though I have come back to writing due to being stuck in the house and my school year being pretty much over. I decided to start this prompt series because I was bored and itching to write something again. I hope you all have enjoyed this short imagine. It is part one of a twenty-one part prompt list that I have made up myself.

This specific list will, for now, only include past and present Smosh members, but if you would like to see any of these prompts for other fictional characters or  real people please let me know in my inbox! I have no requests, and I would certainly love some. Thank you all for reading this! 

[girls-scenarios]

One Afternoon

Idol: Taeyeon (SNSD)

Prompt: since requests are closing soon i'm going to request this: TaeyeonxFem!Reader | Tattoo Parlor AU & Soulmate AU (Changing tattoo that tells you the coordinates of where your soulmate is) | fluff | Girls' Generation (Jessica included) runs a tattoo parlor and everyone has found their soulmate but Taeyeon hasn't and was starting to lose hope. One day the reader decides to get a tattoo there, but doesn't notice that her coordinates change, until Taeyeon, while doing her tattoo points it out.

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So this request has seriously been in our inbox for ages now. I’m sorry that it took us so long to write it, but I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

Taeyeon loved her job. She loved making designs and carefully tattooing them into her client’s skin, loved creating permanent art, and loved being a part of her client’s most intimate memories and thoughts. She’d always been artistic, and tattooing had come almost naturally to her. As soon as she’d tried it for the first time, she’d been hooked: she knew that she wanted to do this for the rest of her life.

It helped that she loved getting tattoos herself too. There were plenty of reasons that she liked covering her skin in intricate ink designs. But the biggest reason had to do with one certain tattoo on her skin. One that she hadn’t put there on purpose.

Her soulmate tattoo. Everyone was born with one. It was supposed to tell you the coordinates of your soulmate, and when you matched coordinates with someone no matter where the two of you went, you could know that you’d found your soulmate. The problem was that Taeyeon’s tattoo had never once changed. In fact, ever since she was born, she’d had the coordinates of the shop she now worked at on her wrist. The numbers never changed.

Apparently, her soulmate was the Generations Tattoo Shop.

“Taeyeon,” her fellow tattooist Tiffany said, knocking the other woman out of her thoughts as she came up to the desk, blowing a bubble in her gum. Her long black hair was shaved on one side of her head and pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her impressive neck tattoo and her collection of earrings. Today, she was wearing one of her favorites: the dragon that climbed up her ear. As usual, she was effortlessly beautiful in her minimal makeup. “Don’t forget about your appointment today at one. They’re a new client.”

“What time is it now?”

“Twelve-thirty. You should probably start readying your station.”

Taeyeon sighed and stood up, stretching her hands over her head and yawning. “You’re right. Sorry, I was spacing out. It’s been a long day.” She’d had back-to-back clients in all morning, and had barely gotten time to take a little lunch break. Her curly blonde hair was probably a mess in the bun she’d thrown it into that morning, but she didn’t have much time to fix it. She just tucked the strands that had fallen out behind her ear and fixed her glasses, taking off the jacket she’d put on to go get her lunch. Underneath, she was wearing a simple black t-shirt that accentuated the mostly black-and-white tattoos on her arms. It was nothing fancy, but she didn’t have the time to make herself look good. Now it would be back to business as usual.

“As usual, you’re our most popular artist.” Grinning, Tiffany patted her shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why do you look so excited?”

“Jessica is taking me out tonight. She said to dress nice, so I bet it’s somewhere fancy.” The other woman let out a love-sick sigh and sat in the now-abandoned desk seat. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I can tell.” It wasn’t that Taeyeon wasn’t happy for all her friends. Seriously, she was happy for them. But it was hard working with a bunch of women who’d already found their soulmates. “Have fun with that.”

“You know.” Tiffany snapped out of her love-struck daze to wiggle her eyebrows. “Maybe this new client could be the soulmate you’ve been looking for.”

“Tiffany....” Taeyeon sent her coworker a point look, raising one eyebrow.

“You can’t lose hope!”

“Sure, whatever you say. I’m gonna go prep my tools.” She walked away, ignoring Tiffany’s huff behind her. The other woman meant well, she really did. But Taeyeon wasn’t in the mood. It had been how many years now, and her tattoo had never once changed. She’d long accepted that her soulmate was work, and she was okay with that. Although it was a little sad to think about, especially when her eight coworkers were happy with their soulmates, it was better than stressing over a soulmate that would likely never come.

This was just her life now. And she’d accepted it.

-

You were right on time. At exactly one, you walked through the doors, a little smile on your lips as you greeted Tiffany and Taeyeon, who were sat behind the desk. Taeyeon took the time to notice that you already had a few tattoos, which was a relief. It would make the whole process easier.

“I’m here for my appointment with Taeyeon, my name is (Y/N),” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear, and Taeyeon stood, giving you a smile and reaching out her hand.

“Welcome to Generations Tattoo Shop (Y/N), I’m Taeyeon.”

“Thank you!” You shook her hand. “I’m excited for our session today, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“I’m flattered,” she said honestly, putting her hand to her chest as her smile grew wider. “Thank you! Now, if we just want to go through a few forms, we can get started with this process!”

She’d already been emailing back and forth with you over ideas, as was custom at the shop, since she had too many clients for walk-ins. This meant that your design was already approved, stenciled, and ready to go when you sat down at the chair. Still, she let you take a look before she put it on, wanting to make sure that it was what you had in mind.

“I love it,” you said, and she could tell you meant it as you gazed at the design, a smile on your lips. “It’s wonderful.”

“Then am I okay to put it on your forearm?”

“Yes, please! Let’s get started!”

Some tattoo artists were talkative as they worked. For Taeyeon, it depended on the day and the design. For simple designs with a nice client, she could talk the whole time. With more intricate designs, it was better for her to focus and take her time. And for rude clients, she didn’t even grace them with conversation, just ready to get them over with. Her mood also depended on her amount of sleep the night before and what kind of clients she’d had that day. Thankfully, the day had gone smoothly and you were nice, so with this tattoo, despite it’s more intricate nature, she didn’t mind talking.

It was weird. She almost felt drawn to you, but she couldn’t explain why. It was easy to chat with you. Conversation just flowed naturally as the two of you talked about the changing fall weather, tattoos, and music, finding that the two of you had a lot in common. Taeyeon was pretty sure that she’d never been this chatty with any other clients, and from the way Tiffany and Yuri were making eyes at her over the counter, she figured they’d noticed it too. If her eyes weren’t mistaken, she was pretty sure Yuri was texting the rest of the girls.

Sure enough, minutes later, Tiffany and Yuri were joined behind the counter by Yoona, Yuri’s soulmate, and Sooyoung, the only other tattooists on duty. Taeyeon had no doubt that the group chat was blowing up. Still, she tried to ignore it, focusing on creating the perfect tattoo for you.

Once she was coming close to finishing the tattoo, the bottom of the design nearing the wrist, she noticed your soulmate tattoo. There hadn’t been a reason for her to look at it before (she’d long since grown out of the excitement of trying to find a soulmate) but now that she was tattooing near it, the coordinates caught her eye. And then her eyes widened. That was strange. She’d recognize those numbers anywhere.

“Hey, your coordinates are for this tattoo shop. That’s strange.”

Your eyes matched hers as you sat up, mouth dropping open. “Wait, really? There’s no way!”

“What?” She looked up, confused, sitting back to let you look at your wrist for yourself.

“It’s never changed before....” You trailed off, staring in awe. “It was always just at zero. I thought I was broken or something.”

Hope jumped up in Taeyeon’s chest, but she shoved it down, not wanting to be crushed again. “So this is the first time it’s changed?”

“Yeah. That’s so weird.” You looked at her. “How did you notice?”

“The coordinates caught my eye. It’s for the shop, obviously, but it’s also what my coordinates have been stuck at since I was a kid.” She held up her own wrist beside yours. The coordinates matched.

“Could this mean...?” The two of you stared at each other, and Taeyeon could feel her heart beating quicker than usual in her chest. Was Tiffany actually right?

“I don’t know. Mine has never changed, I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“But with you is the first time mine have ever changed. Is anyone else here single?”

“Well, no.”

“Then that leaves you.” You gave her a shy smile. “There is a way we could find out for sure.”

“What’s that?” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was excited. Hope that she couldn’t push down surged into her chest.

“After you finish my tattoo, do you want to go get coffee at the shop down the street?”

She checked the clock. She had a gap between you and the next customer. It was only an hour, but still. A lot could happen in an hour. Nervous all of a sudden, she cleared her throat and started up her tattooing machine again. “Let’s hurry and finish this tattoo again.”

Taeyeon never rushed her work, so she was lucky that she was almost done already. After finishing the last few touches and wiping off the excess ink, she let you see the final product before wrapping it up and giving you the care instructions. But neither of you were really focused on the specifics, rushing through the final paperwork before she let her coworkers know she was going to take a quick break.

There was snickering and excited calls to have fun as she left, but she decided she’d take care of the gossip later.

As the two of you walked, you both looked at your tattoos, waiting with bated breath. Slowly, the numbers began to change, and Taeyeon beamed, feeling tears of relief come to her eyes as she stared down at the changing numbers.

“Is this real?” You whispered, and Taeyeon nodded her head, looking up at the sky to hide her tears. The afternoon was bright, not a cloud in the sky, a weight of expectation lifted from her shoulders. After all these years, at last she’d found you.

“It’s real. I’m so glad I finally got to meet you.”

[anthropologicalhands]

2019 fic roundup

tagged by @catty-words!

Total 2019 Word Count: 62,091 Total 2019 Hits: 4714 Other 2019 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 331, Comment Threads: 73, Bookmarks: 42, Subscriptions: 17

Total 2018 Word Count: 91,069 Total 2018 Hits: 3749 Other 2018 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 333, Comment Threads: 46, Bookmarks: 18, Subscriptions: 5

links and titles to 2019 works

[crazy ex girlfriend] my breathing is light and my head is filled silly [28,188] - a collection of r/n prompt fills and miscellaneous oneshots

[crazy ex girlfriend] turns, both solo and ensemble [5,942] - gen and other ceg prompt fills go here

[the godfather] make me an offer i won’t refuse [7,674] - the lone godfather fic i wrote after watching the entire trilogy for the first time. plays with the idea that there was a period of give-and-take between kay and michael after he goes to see her at her school.

[crazy ex girlfriend] sunlight and salutations [1,781] - a valencia character study & valencia/beth get together fic!

[crazy ex girlfriend] josh reaches out! [1,692] - a pre-4B ficlet about josh trying to do right by greg by making the first move. also the first in a highly-theoretical greg/josh road trip au.

[crazy ex girlfriend] roses (a reprise) [1,318] - a post-4x11 au where rebecca goes to visit nathaniel post-confrontation with his father and involves platonic roses.

[crazy ex girlfriend] slow down, follow up [3,139] - post-4x13 where rebecca follows up with nathaniel about her behavior in 4x12.

[naruto] choose your path [16,195] - a naruto/mass effect fusion au that i decided to finish off once and for all with a more condensed second part.

[crazy ex girlfriend] forest for the trees [1,203] - a valencia/heather valentine’s day ficlet written for @catty-words‘s femslash february challenge.

[crazy ex girlfriend] a pattern cutting [3,321] - a play off of the r/n flash forward from 4x17, because while i don’t personally think of r/n as having children, there are actually some interesting things about the concept i really like.

[crazy ex girlfriend] life’s not painless, but he’s not brainless (josh chan will be all right) [11,400] - my love letter to josh chan, post-4x16

[crazy ex girlfriend] (self) imposed limits [2,162] - an extension of the r/n date, due to rebecca wanting to run away from the emotional crisis the 4x16 plot has landed her in.

[crazy ex girlfriend] impressionism (what completes this picture of me and you) [2,969] - valencia admits to having had a crush on heather. set during the eight-month time skip.

[crazy ex girlfriend] greg has feelings for josh?! [4,485] - greg has a minor meltdown about his crush on josh and calls whijo for backup. part two in the highly-theoretical greg/josh road trip universe.

Favorite Fic: life’s not painless, because as a fic, the final form ended up being very close to what i pictured in my head in tone and resolution, plus it really helped me sooth my own frustrations about josh’s resolution in the show.

Hardest Fic: life’s not painless because i really really wanted to get it right, but also everything. writing is very, very hard.

Do you plan to take prompts in 2020? probably, but i have several of my own ideas i want to work on first, plus finishing off the prompts currently in my inbox.

What was the best thing about 2019? i got a lot more comfortable writing in the CEG verse, which has encouraged me to stretch my limits more and try new things, and sometimes those new things have turned out well, so I’m really happy about that. plus, being part of this little subset of fandom is just really fun and nice and encouraging. it’s been a good year to talk to people and complain about the show/gush about the show/bat ridiculous headcanons back and forth.

What was the worst thing about 2019? the worst thing about 2019 is that i have not yet started posting telepathy au because i’m still not satisfied with it. on a petty note, it annoys me that i can’t include it because my word count severely under-represents how much i actually wrote this year. plus, i was really hoping to get it out in the final third of the year, but then job + my own perfectionism got in the way. actually, the perfectionism in general has really slowed me down for both writing and posting. hopefully it’s just growing pains? but we’ll see.

Any last thoughts for 2019? it’s been a strange but fundamentally good year. loved talking to all you people and coming up with new outrageous ideas, and hope to keep doing so.

Goals for 2020?

post telepathy au

finish current wips

write more magical realism ceg au, because frankly that’s my happy place

anyone in the r/n fandom who hasn’t done this yet, consider yourself tagged.

[ewankoseyo]

magnetic || jinyoung pt. 5 (final)

A/N: Wow she finally writes !!! Once again, apologies for the long delay, but after getting through a lot of work and life things, I’ve finally finished magnetic. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading all my stories, it warms my heart. I have a bit more time nowadays so I’ll be posting more frequently. I’ve got two requests sitting in my inbox right now, so be on the lookout for those stories. In the meantime, please send me your requests!

Hope you enjoy the finale of magnetic! 

To say that Jaebum was overprotective of you was an understatement.

Yes, he knew you could take care yourself, and yes, he had been the one to reassure your parents that you would be okay in America by yourself, but when it came to dating, it was as if you’d gained a third parent. Which really meant that when it came to dating...actually, that was about it. It never came to dating. Because you dating was never going to happen, at least not on Jaebum’s watch. 

So when you were 17 and the annual school dance rolled around, it was no surprise that you would be going to be dateless once again.

“But O-ppa! It’s my last school dance!”

“And...?” Jaebum rebuffed, not paying any mind to your annoyed expression as he tightened up his shoe laces. He had let you tag along to an open dance session he and the other members decided to hold by themselves one Saturday since they felt they needed more practice for the upcoming debut. When Jaebum called for a five-minute water break, you took it upon yourself to resume your complaining from before practice started.

“It’s the last school dance and so the boys are going to be even wilder and that’s why you’re not allowed to have a date,” Jaebum reasoned simply without batting an eyelash.

“But all my friends got asked out and are bringing dates. I’ll be the only one going stag!” You groaned, uncharacteristically stomping your foot for emphasis. You were rarely ever bratty, but Jaebum was being completely unreasonable! You deserved to have fun the way you wanted to, especially because it was your last go. Unfortunately, your parents listened to everything Jaebum said, so if he said you shouldn’t be dating, even if it’s just going to the school dance with some friend who happened to be a guy, it was basically law.

Jaebum finished tying the other shoelace before looking at you quizzically. “So if your friends all jumped off a bridge, would you jump too?” You let out an annoyed screech, earning an amused smirk from your brother.

“Jackson! Don’t you think Oppa is being dumb right now?”

Jackson took a swig from his water bottle before joining you two in the middle of the dance floor. “I think she’s right. It is just one dance, and it’s not like she’s going off and eloping with the first guy that will ask her...” He was about to continue the thought when he noticed Jaebum glaring daggers at him, silently challenging him to choose his next words wisely. “But, then again! High school boys, you know, they’re still so immature and they only want one thing! Plus there’s nothing wrong with going to a dance alone. It means you won’t be tied down to your date and you can hang out with whoever you want. Isn’t that right, JB?” Jackson gave a nervous laugh, slowly backing away from the conversation to avoid any impending confrontation with the leader.

You sighed, looking around the room for another (more assertive) opinion. “Mark?”

“Uh...” The older boy looked up from his phone. He had heard bits and pieces of your conversation and was really hoping he wouldn’t get roped into it. With the way Jaebum was now looking at him menacingly, Mark decided it was best not to answer at all. “What? Oh, I think I’m getting a call, I need to take this. Hello?” Before you could protest, he had walked out of the studio to answer the imaginary phone call.

“O-ppaaa...” You whined. “Are you really going to do this to me? You’re going to let me go to my last school dance EVER dateless? Everyone’s going to laugh at me and I’ll be graduating from high school known as the girl who could never get a date. Is that what you want? You want your sister to live as an embarrassment for the rest of high school? How am I supposed to live like that?” You knew you were being annoyingly overdramatic, but you were desperate. 

“I’ll tell you what,” Jaebum began after taking a moment to ponder on your argument. “You can take a date, but it has to be one of us.”

You grimaced. “Eww Oppa! Going with you to the dance is even worse than going alone.” 

“Then have one of the other members take you.”

Jaebum’s words had caught the attention of three boys who surrounded you in a matter of seconds.

“Noona, take me!” Bambam slung an arm around your shoulders and waggled his eyebrows at you. “I clean up really nice! Just imagine me in a suit. We’ll be the best looking couple at the dance, all of your classmates will be jealous!”

Yugyeom wrenched Bambam off of you before you could reply and quickly took over his spot. “No Noona, take me. It’s a dance, not a fashion show. Watch this!” He unlatched himself from you to show you a quick eight-count that he had been working on. Yugyeom finished with a pose, perching his chin on top his hand and giving you a smirk. “You’re a good dancer, I’m the best dancer out of the seven of us,” This earned a collective groan from everyone in the room. “Doesn’t it just make sense for us to go together? I can show you a great time!”

“Why would she want to take children to her last school dance?” Youngjae scoffed next to you. “She would obviously rather go with someone who could be her classmate.” He turned to face you, taking one of your hands in his and placing his other gently on your waist. You couldn’t help but giggle as he led you in a mini-waltz. “Just imagine us dancing like this, all eyes on us as I sing along to the song playing in your ear...it’ll be a night you won’t forget!” Youngjae mused as he twirled you around, earning more laughter from you.

“So what do you say Noona, who are you going with?” 

“Uh...”

Jaebum sighed at the younger members’ antics, getting up from his seated position and putting his hands on his hips to reassume authority in the conversation. The three boys cowered away from you, anticipating their leader’s reprimand. 

“On second thought, if you really want to go with a date, I’d rather you go with...” Jaebum’s eyes traveled around the room before landing on a certain boy who had been playing on his phone and keeping to himself throughout the whole conversation. “Jinyoung, come here.”

Jinyoung tensed up when he heard his name. He thought that if he was quiet enough, everyone would forget he was in the room and he wouldn’t be prompted to join the stupid conversation. He slowly got up from the bench in the corner of the room and made his way to where everyone had gathered. 

“...What’s up?” He asked with a sigh, already knowing what was coming.

“Oppa, why...” You blinked a few times at the boy now standing across from you. Had you been that obvious? You always tried to make it seem like you were more than happy to get Jaebum from practice or tag along with him just to be nice, but had he actually picked up on your ulterior motives? And if he did, why wasn’t he freaking out about you crushing over his best friend? Or was this just his sick and twisted way of setting you two up together? You cleared your throat in an attempt at nonchalance. “W-why Jinyoung? And not the others?” 

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows, gazing at Jaebum unamused. “You want me to take her to her dance?”  

“Mark’s too awkward, Jackson would enjoy himself too much, and these three goofs over here would make fools of themselves and ruin our reputation before we even debut,” Jaebum explained without skipping a beat. He ignored the offended chorus of “hey!”s from the younger boys as he continued. “Jinyoung’s a polite gentleman, who I believe many girls consider very handsome, and you know he’s good at dancing. I also trust that he wouldn’t pull anything stupid at the dance. Is he not the perfect date?”

“Oppa...”

“I’m not going with her to that dance,” Jinyoung stated flatly. “You can’t force me to do that.” You resisted the urge to complain in response even though you also agreed you shouldn’t take Jinyoung. He was acting like you were the plague. You knew you were behaving like a little punk at that moment, but spending an evening with you wouldn’t kill the guy.

“Ah, may I remind you that you still owe me for covering for your ass when you were running late to vocals last week?” Jaebum scratched his head in mock contemplation. “Should I really tell the vocal coach that you were late because you were coming back from your little date?”

“Date?” You repeated, hoping no one picked up on the slight twitch in your voice.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “I already told you it wasn’t a date. I was hanging out with an old friend who just happened to be a girl that I realized had a thing for me halfway through hanging out, and I was only running late because she kept trying to get me to hang out with her even longer and she was being really persistent.”

"I don’t know,” Jaebum deliberated in a sing-song voice. “It may have been a one-sided date, but it was still a date, and I don’t think the managers would be happy to hear you were out on one.”

“Are you seriously blackmailing me right now?”

“I’ll throw in 500 won from the early birthday present I got from my parents.” 

“Wait hold on,” you interjected. “If the managers would get mad about any of you going out on a date, wouldn’t they get mad if Jinyoung went with me to the dance?”

Jaebum shook his head incredulously. “Of course not! You’re family. And Jinyoung’s basically part of our family with all the time he spends over at our house!” 

“Family. Right...” Jinyoung deadpanned. “So, you said 500 won?” 

——

It had been a few days since the late night incident in the kitchen and you still hadn’t spoken to Jinyoung.

Scratch that—you two did talk, but only during the challenges. 

You would join the group in the morning with only seconds to spare before you all had to prepare for filming. Before Jinyoung could even try to say hi to you, you were already engaging yourself in conversation with one of the other boys, the silent treatment you were giving Jinyoung going unnoticed to them. When it was time for you to all get into your pairs, you immediately got friendlier with Jinyoung as the cameras focused on you. You two participated cooperatively on whatever challenge was happening, but as soon as filming was over, you were gone from his side once again.

If Jinyoung had any qualms on whether you were still upset with him with the way you were being nonchalant during the challenges, that quickly answered his question.

It was now the night of the last concert of the tour. The challenges had ended the day before and because there was now a close tie between three top teams (Bambam and Youngjae were sorely convinced that you had it out for them ever since they sabotaged you in the maze game,) it was up to the fans to vote online who they thought should win. With the winners being announced the next day, all that was left was filming for the actual concert.

An hour before the concert and everyone was in the dressing rooms getting ready. Bambam and Mark were getting their make up done. Youngjae was pulled aside to another room for an interview. You were sitting around with Jaebum and Yugyeom since they were both the first ones ready. Jinyoung and Jackson were picking out their outfits and changing behind a nearby clothing rack.

“You know if you keep staring like that, you’ll eventually burn a hole into her head,” Jackson joked, nudging Jinyoung to bring the boy out of his one-sided staring contest with you.

“I’m not staring, I’m just...” Jinyoung randomly grabbed two hangers from the rack. “...trying to decide which one of these I should wear. This one or this one?”

Jackson smirked but decided to play along. “That one,” he suggested, pointing to an all-black ensemble.

“Cool, thanks,” Jinyoung nodded, putting the other outfit back on the rack. But Jackson wasn’t done with him just yet.

“So are you going to tell me why things are even weirder between you two?”

“Me and who?”

Jackson rolled his eyes and nudged his head in your direction. You were laughing at something Yugyeom said, Jaebum looking between the both of you with an unamused expression. “She might think she’s being sly but I can tell she’s giving you the silent treatment.”

“You talk to her more than I do,” Jinyoung deadpanned. “so why ask a question you already know the answer to?”

“Because I want to hear you say it out loud,” Jackson teased, remembering the identical conversation he had with you earlier that week. “You know, you two are a lot more similar than you think.”

Jinyoung stared back at him stoically. “Good to know.”

Jackson chuckled before switching to a serious expression. “C’mon dude, what’s really going on with you? I hate seeing friends fight. You can tell me what’s up. Wang Gae Park Gae remember?”

Jinyoung raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “I thought you said that was over when I beat you in the maze game.”

“But that was then and this is now!”

Jinyoung sighed as Jackson beamed back at him expectantly. Though he knew Jackson could be loud and, well, Jackson, Jinyoung knew it was better to open up to him. Jackson could be annoyingly persistent but it always came from a good place. Plus maybe Jackson would tell him what you’ve been telling him and he’d be able to go about this whole situation with you?

“Fine.” Jinyoung squatted, tugging Jackson down to his level so that they were completely hidden behind the clothing rack. “But keep it down. I don’t want the others, especially Jaebum, hearing and turning it into a whole thing.”

Jackson smiled playfully, pretending to zip his lips to let the younger boy know he was all ears.

You glanced over to where Jinyoung and Jackson were picking out their outfits as Jaebum lectured Yugyeom about his provocative dancing next to you. You felt your heartbeat quicken as you noticed the two of them speaking closely, as if they were afraid of anyone hearing them, then ducking down behind the clothing rack. They had to be talking about you. You tried to focus on the two boys bickering next to you, but in the back of your head, you were freaking out. Was Jackson going to spill everything you ranted about Jinyoung to Jinyoung? He never told anyone the secrets you trusted him with. Or if he did, everyone else was really good at pretending that they didn’t know anything.

You were already very embarrassed by your outburst with Jinyoung. You only wanted to understand why his actions contradicted his words and hopefully come to some mature truce that would develop into a real friendship. You didn’t mean to completely lash out and burst into tears right in front of him. You were already wary of how to act around Jinyoung before, now you were just absolutely clueless. Which is why you were only talking to him when you had to and pretending like everything was fine when you did. You could not bring yourself to have another confrontation with Jinyoung so it was best to avoid him at all costs.

Was this how he usually was with you?

“Noona, what do you think?”

“Huh?” Yugyeom was waving his hand in front of your face to catch your attention. You hadn’t noticed they stopped arguing. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Since it’s the last concert of the tour, we need to finish with something big,” Jaebum explained. “I say we end with ‘Before the Full Moon Rises.’”

“And I say that makes the end of the concert really sad, so our encore should be an energizer, like ‘Go Higher,’” Yugyeom reasoned. “You’re the unbiased opinion here Noona, so you should decide.”

“It’s totally up to you, but remember, Oppa is always right.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother. “You mean your last concert is in less than an hour and you don’t know what you’re doing for the encore yet?”

“We just want to have fun with it,” Jaebum stated. “Besides, if worse comes to worst, we’ll just rock-paper-scissors the encore onstage. The fans always love that.”

“Sure they do,” you quipped back sarcastically. “But I agree with Yugyeom, the encore should be an energizer.”

“Ha! Told you Hyung—”

“But not ‘Go Higher.’” You giggled as you watched Yugyeom’s metaphorical bubble burst.

“Then which song should we do?”

You batted your eyelashes knowingly at Jaebum. “You already know what my favorite song is.”

The two boys scoffed. “We haven’t done that song in so long,” Jaebum complained. “Yugyeom barely memorizes the lyrics to our current songs, how is he going to remember the words to that one?”

“Hey!”

You both ignored the maknae’s pouting. “But I really want to hear it again,” you said earnestly. “Just one last time, please!”

“That can be arranged.”

Jinyoung and Jackson appeared before you three, all dressed and ready to go. You couldn’t help but steal a glimpse at Jinyoung—as if he couldn’t get even more handsome, he seemed to prove you wrong—but you immediately averted your gaze when you noticed him looking back at you. Jaebum was about to question what Jinyoung meant when a staff member came into the room.

“Gather around everyone! Let’s do a quick huddle so we can make this last show the best one!”

——

The concert had gone off without a hitch. Their international concerts were a lot different than the ones you were used to back home. Bigger venue. Bigger stage. Bigger audience. More lights. More speeches in English. More translations of speeches that weren’t in English. More American pop culture references. A different kind of vibe from the audience. You’ve gone to their concerts before and loved each and every one of them, but this was like watching them for the first time all over again.

You enjoyed yourself, singing and dancing along to all the songs in the wings of the stage. Watching the boys perform never ceased to amaze you as you remembered their humble beginnings. They had come such a long way in chasing their dreams and truly deserved all the love they received from fans on tour.

“We unfortunately are nearing the end of our last show of this tour,” Jackson announced on stage, immediately met back with boos and groans to not leave from the audience. The other boys looked on at the fans with a mix of adoration and sympathy as Jackson continued. “We just want to thank you all so much for coming out here and seeing us tonight. You know, we wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for you guys constantly supporting the music and I think I speak for all of the boys when I say we love you. Thank you all again so much!”

“Now we want to finish this concert on a happy note,” Mark added quickly to lighten up the mood. “So we have a special surprise for you all! Our next and final song is one we haven’t done in a while, so we’ve got a special guest here to help us remember the words...”

Before you could put two and two together, you felt a staff member give you a gentle nudge. They responded to your confused expression by whispering for you to go out on stage. As your legs mindlessly walked you out, you were met with deafening cheers and screams from the audience. A staff member ran onto the stage to place a stool in front of the boys.

“My little sister!” Jaebum exclaimed and pointed to you proudly. The fans reacted with a chorus of “aww”s and started chanting your name. 

You were so caught in a daze with everything happening around you that you had no time to comprehend the meaning of Jinyoung smiling softly at you.

You had no time to protest Jinyoung lightly taking your hand and leading you like a gentleman to sit on the stool.

“Once again, thank you all so much for partying with us tonight. We’re GOT7, this is ‘Magnetic,’ goodnight!”

As Jinyoung left your side with a wink, that’s when you heard the first few notes of the song you longed to hear live again and you felt something begin to well up inside of you. With the whirlwind of emotions you were going through in such a short amount of time, all you could do at the moment was grin like an idiot as Jackson wrapped his arm around your shoulders and started rapping to you. 

I’m not joking around, ever since I first got to know you I’m not the same person I used to be Whatever I’m doing, I don’t really know what I’m doing Whatever anyone says, I’m just blankly walking

You swayed to the beat and giggled as Jackson’s movements matched the lyrics. He was soon pushed away by Mark who playfully fought the younger boy for your attention as his part began. 

You appear in my head every day Whatever I’m thinking about, you star in it Then with a zoned out face, I start talking to myself

Mark gave you a knowing look as his part ended. You looked at him suspiciously until you noticed Jinyoung kneeling down beside you and taking your hand once again. When you felt the heat transfer from his hand to yours, the moment seemed to go by in slow motion.

Why are you so pretty? When I look at you, when you’re smiling with your eyes It feels like I’ll faint

The audience’s screams now sounded distant, as if they were miles away. Everything around you—the other boys, the fans, the stage itself—seemed to disappear. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Jinyoung as he sang to you, the only thing tethering you to this earth being his hand enclosing yours. His voice was so sweet and almost pleading. During his part, he was giving you a look you couldn’t quite place.

You were brought back up to speed as Jinyoung left your side and was replaced by Youngjae, the performance continuing on without incident. You relished in the rest of the boys’ antics as they sang to you, Jaebum jokingly shooing them away when they were getting too friendly with you. At one point of the song, they had gotten into a formation, leaving a space for you in the middle so you could dance along with them. 

Despite how much fun you were having and the warm feeling rolling through your stomach from the song, you couldn’t shake off the way Jinyoung had looked at you. The way he kept looking at you when your gaze met his. As you danced and sang along with the boys, you were silently deciphering Jinyoung’s expression. 

It finally occurred to you as the song, and the concert, was coming to an end. Jinyoung reappeared by your side and looked you square in the eyes as he sang along to the last line. 

He was looking at you like you were the only girl in the room. 

He was looking at you with love.

It’s you, girl.

——

It was a little past midnight. Jinyoung had just finished taking a shower, a dull yet comforting ache set through his muscles. As he settled into bed, he reflected back on the tour. He couldn’t believe it had finally ended, culminating into tonight’s performance. Though he was excited to see his family and get some much-needed rest, he knew he was going to miss traveling and seeing the fans from different countries.

A few minutes turned into half an hour, and Jinyoung couldn’t get himself to fall asleep despite his exhaustion. Sitting up and putting on some slippers, Jinyoung shuffled out of his room. Ice cream sounded like a good idea, and he already couldn’t sleep, so what harm could some sugar do to his sleep? Usually he’d bother one of the other members to come along with him, but they had all dispersed after a small team celebration for finishing the tour. He, Jaebum, and Mark had decided to hit the sack while the others wanted to hit the clubs. Jinyoung stopped in front of your door before he completely passed by your room. He contemplated knocking and asking if you’d like to come, but eventually decided against it. Perhaps you were sleeping too. 

After heading to the ice cream shop in the lobby and getting the one treat to satisfy his craving, Jinyoung was about to head back to the suite when he heard someone call his name. You were sitting on a love seat near the shop, alone and cup of ice cream in hand. Judging by your pajamas, it seemed you couldn’t sleep either. 

Jinyoung made his way over to you. “Did you have a craving too?”

“Something like that,” you replied, glancing down at your cup.

Not knowing what else to say after a moment of silence, Jinyoung gave a little wave before beginning to walk away. “Well, good night.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?” Though there was a hint of attitude in your voice, you were looking at him confused yet expectantly. “Jinyoung, what are we doing? What were you doing?”

Jinyoung stared back at you pensively for a moment before hesitantly taking a seat next to you. “You know I’m not the best at talking about myself. I can be a little slow with these things.”

“I’ve got time. I can wait here all night.”

Jinyoung sighed after realizing you'd seriously sit in silence for hours until he said something. There you were, always the persistent one. He tried to focus on his ice cream. Every time he glanced up at your big eyes, the words he’d built the courage up to say would die on his lips. 

“Do you remember when I took you to your school dance?” Jinyoung suddenly asked after another moment of silence.

“Huh?” Now you weren’t expecting him to say that. You sneered a bit, deciding to play along. At least he was finally opening up, if even only a little. “Do I remember? You say it as if it happened years and years ago.”

“It’s been, what, four or five years? With everything that’s happened to us in between, it feels like a lifetime ago.”

You nodded in agreement. “I guess you’re right, but what about it? Oppa pretty much forced you to go and you were going with me, so you had an awful time.”

Jinyoung grimaced at your words, vaguely remembering how the past him so vocally opposed taking you to your dance as if it would kill him, but he continued. “I did have an awful time, but it wasn’t necessarily because of you.”

You scoffed a little. “Jinyoung, we can be honest with each other. I know you found me annoying. Still do...” You trailed off quietly. 

“I don’t!” Jinyoung protested earnestly, nearly dropping the ice cream from his cone. “Truly! Okay maybe I wasn’t too fond of you in the beginning, you were always following us around and being pesky. You spit water at me when you first met me!”

You attempted to keep stern and hold back your laughter at his uncharacteristic outburst, but your face said otherwise. “It’s not my fault, you told a really funny joke.”

Your slight break in resolve caused Jinyoung to smile back at you, but he quickly looked away again, remembering the repercussions of looking at you for too long. His face became serious once again. “Anyways...since then and throughout the training the days, I guess I just saw you as—”

“Your friend’s annoying little sister who had a thing for you.”

“Yes,” he confirmed regretfully. “But somewhere along the way, I just-you kind of...” His eyes darted around as if searching the room for the right words to say next. “...You know this is kind of dumb—”

“Please keep going,” you encouraged softly, almost begging him. Jinyoung forced himself to look at you, pursing his lips before continuing. 

“Somewhere along the way, you started looking different. And you seemed different. Suddenly whenever you were around, I started feeling more uncomfortable than annoyed by you, and I didn’t know what to make of it until Jaebum was blackmailing me to go to the dance with you.”

All you could do was stare back at Jinyoung, unable to even react to his words as you were slowly processing. This was all news to you. You made him uncomfortable? You always thought it was just the other way around. 

“Then Jaebum started talking about how he trusted me the most out of all the boys to take you to the dance because I was basically family and you know how protective Jaebum is of you, he basically threatens any guy who just looks at his little sister for more than five seconds—so you can see that just being your date was kind of a stressful thing for me...”

“Jinyoung,”

“...A-and you know our career was just about to take off and you had just gotten into the university of your dreams halfway across the world so it would have been really unfair to you if I even tried anything, also really dangerous with management, you already know that, and so I thought it would be better for me to just forget about it and avoid you as much as possible but seeing you in person this week, it was just too much for me and I didn’t know how to handle it so I guess that’s why I came off as cold and—”

“Jinyoung.” You cut him off firmly. “What exactly are you talking about right now?”

“Oh, I, uh—”

“D-do you like me? Or...?”

You’d said it. Those words had actually left your mouth. You could have punched him in the gut and Jinyoung would have reacted all the same, the air and words knocked right out of him. Jinyoung had confidently performed for thousands of people all around the world, but sitting next to you at that moment, he had never felt more unsure of himself.

To his surprise, you were looking at him with pure curiosity rather than scrutiny, and that was enough for him to keep going.

“That night you saw me talking with Mark-hyung...you had it all wrong...” He paused hesitantly but you nodded encouragingly for him to continue. He took a deep breath, willing himself to exude confidence as he exhaled. “You know what actually drives me crazy? How you seem to appear in my head every day and there’s nothing I can do about it. Believe me, I’ve tried,” he mused almost regretfully. “How talented you are—that cookie was amazing by the way,—and how good of a dancer you are, how kind you are, h-how pretty you are...”

“Wait I’m sorry, could you repeat that last part? You got quiet at the end.”

Jinyoung gave you an deadpanned look. You looked back at him innocently, but you were clearly enjoying this. He bit back a smile at your amusement. “Did you know that when you smile, your eyes do too? They turn into these little crescents.” He traced small semi-circles over his eyes.

“You mean like this?” You beamed at him, your eyes almost disappearing as your smile grew.

“Yes, like that.” Jinyoung groaned. “Cut it out, it’s distracting. That’s why it’s hard putting up with you. There’s those things that you do and you’re not even trying.”

“Jinyoung...” Your smile faded as you stared back at the boy in awe. You had never seen Jinyoung look so shy and vulnerable before. He wasn’t joking at all.

“The truth is I don’t hate you. Far from it actually. I hate me because I’m supposed to hate you but I could never,” Jinyoung sighed, gazing at you softly. “You deserve to be loved openly. I felt guilty about not being able to, so I thought it would be easier to try finding faults in you, reasons to dislike you, but there was never anything wrong with you.”

“You’ve never outright said anything rude to me before,” you realized out loud. “You just kind of avoided me like the plague.”

“I hated being cold to you. I hated seeing you plaster a smile on your face when I brushed you off.” Jinyoung gave you an apologetic look. “But I figured you were okay. If I wasn’t making you happy, at least the other boys were.”

“What do you mean?”

"You know, like how you’re always joking around with Bambam or hanging out with Jackson. You seem happy with them.”

“Yes, that’s typically what friends do,” you replied sarcastically with an incredulous expression.

“I saw you heading down with Jackson a few nights ago,” Jinyoung mentioned offhandedly, trying to seem nonchalant. “You two were all close and hugging, I just kind of assumed something was going on there—”

“Jinyoung, are you jealous?” 

“No! I just, uh—” He quickly went back to finishing his ice cream, buying time to put together a response. 

“I’ll have you know that what you were seeing was him comforting me after I told him about you!” You said accusingly. “I had heard you telling Mark how hard it was putting up with me and then the next day, you acted like we were the best of friends! So yeah, that was going to make me confused and upset. Luckily Jackson was there and nice enough to let me talk to him about how I felt. That’s what you were seeing.”

“Oh.” What else could Jinyoung say? He felt like a—

“Fool,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. “You know for someone smart enough to be trusted by Oppa, you’re kind of stupid. And you’ve got ice cream all over your face.” You grabbed some napkins from your pocket and wiped around his mouth without a thought.

“Thanks,” Jinyoung nearly whispered, unable to make eye contact with you once again. He felt a warmth creeping up his neck. 

“So...you still haven’t answered my question,” you spoke up, realizing he wasn’t going to say anything else. 

“Question?”

“I asked if you liked me.”

“Do you really need to ask?” Jinyoung groaned as you nodded, a small smile inching its way onto your lips. He sighed. “Mark-hyung did tell me to be upfront with you.” 

“And Jackson?”

“What about about him?”

“I noticed you two talking before the concert and you guys would look over at me,” you said nonchalantly as you took a bite of ice cream. “You two weren’t exactly the best at being inconspicuous. So what did he tell you?” 

“He was the one who came up with the idea of the encore,” Jinyoung muttered with his head down. “He said that since I’m not good at talking about my feelings, everyone could help me sing them to you instead.” 

“I’d still like to hear you say it out loud,” you urged softly with a melodic giggle.

How could Jinyoung say no to his favorite song?

 “Okay, so I do tell you how I feel,” Jinyoung supposes.  “And then what? After how awful I’ve been to you all these years, it would be unfair for you to just accept me wholeheartedly.”

You gave him a funny look, eyebrow raised challengingly. “No, it would actually be unfair for you to tell me how you really feel after years of thinking you hated me, and then for you to not do anything about it. I’m not accepting you wholeheartedly. I’m accepting you as punishment for, as you said, how awful you’ve been all these years,” you chided with a teasing smile. “Here, I’ll even go first. I like you, Jinyoung. Always have, but you already knew that. Now...” You looked at him expectantly with slight head nod, silently telling him it was his turn. 

Jinyoung sighed before slowly getting up from the seat. He held his hand out to you without a word and you took it questioningly, hesitantly standing up to meet his gaze. He took a deep breath and uttered your name as he exhaled, as if saying it lifted a great weight off of his shoulders. He gently took both of your hands in his.

Looking you square in the eyes, Jinyoung spoke up. “I...I lik—”

Before he could finish his confession, you had gotten up on your tip-toes and lightly brushed your lips against his. They were gone almost as instantly as they came, but the ghost of your kiss lingered on his lips. You giggled once again as you watched Jinyoung’s fingers graze over his lips. His eyes widened at you in awe, a slight blush creeping over his cheeks. 

“You just-all of a sudden—”

“Actually, you don’t need to tell me, I already know,” you joked, beaming at Jinyoung once again. You almost felt sorry for interrupting him, you had never seen him look so flustered before you. 

But with your eyes shining like that, how could he get upset? 

Jinyoung chuckled and smiled down at you as he lightly reached out to tuck some hair behind your ear. Now it was your turn to blush profusely. 

“Good, because, like I said, I’m kind of slow in saying these things and I might need some time.”

As the two of you just stood there smiling like idiots for who knows how long, you both knew you’d have all the time in the world.

——

“You were right, red does suit me!”

Jinyoung stood from his seat and smiled as you approached him, twirling around so you could give him a better look at your outfit.

“I’m glad I chose well. How are the shoes?”

“Just right,” you replied happily, glancing down at your wedges. He walked around the table to pull out your seat. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Jinyoung completed. He gently placed a hand on the small of your back to usher you into your seat before settling back into his.

“Thank you. And do you know what suits you, Jinyoung?”

“What’s that?”

“Winning,” you answered mischievously, motioning to two boys dressed in white button-ups and black pants walking over to your table.

“Hyung, the fans only voted for you because you were partnered with Noona,” Bambam complained as he poured water from a pitcher into both of your glasses.

“Yeah, if I was with Noona, you’d be serving me today instead,” Yugyeom added ruefully, placing silverware on your table.

“You and Mark should have tried harder,” Jinyoung teased as he downed his water. “Refill please, slave.”

Bambam muttered obscenities under his breath as he begrudgingly complied before turning to you. “You look especially pretty today, Noona.” 

You giggled at his sweetness despite his misfortune. “Aww, thanks Bam.”

“Yeah Noona, has anyone ever told you that color looks good on you?” Yugyeom asks.

“She knows,” Jinyoung nearly growled, shooting the younger boys a dirty look. “Don’t you need to be in the kitchen right now? You’re here to serve us, not talk.” 

Bambam and Yugyeom mock-bowed before leaving the table. “Let’s make sure to spit in Hyung’s food.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You and Jinyoung looked at each other and laughed, shaking your heads at the boys’ antics. When the staff said that the losers would have to serve as the winners’ slaves for a day and that the winners could make them do whatever they wanted, you didn’t know you’d be able to get the boys to basically set up your first (unofficial) date with Jinyoung. In front of a bunch of cameras and never explicitly stated that it was a date, but you were going to consider it your first date.

Jinyoung gazed at you admiringly, completely mesmerized as your skin glowed beneath the sunset. He considered this the first date too.

“A pretty rose for the pretty lady?” Mark had come up to the table with a basket of roses. He knelt by your side and offered you one.

“Oh you all flatter me too much,” you cheerfully accepted, instinctually smelling the rose. “Thank you.” 

“How about a bottle of wine for the lovely couple?” Jackson appeared by Mark’s side, chilled bottle of red wine in hand. You and Jinyoung gave him a threatening look as Mark got up and nudged him. 

“Cameras,” Mark whispered to Jackson, covering the mic on his collar.

Jackson laughed nervously. “Did I say lovely couple? Haha I meant winning couple. Wi-winning pair, I mean, which someone might use to refer to a couple, which means a group of two people in this case, not like a couple couple—”

Mark elbowed Jackson in the gut again. “We’re going to go check on your meals, but they should be out shortly. In the meantime, please enjoy the view and let Youngjae know if you have any requests,” he explains courteously, motioning to the boy over at the grand piano in the corner of the rooftop. Youngjae smiled at the both of you as his fingers gracefully keyed a mellow tune, setting the mood for the evening. With a short bow and knowing smirk, Mark left you two alone again, pulling Jackson along with him (but not without the younger boy waggling his eyebrows knowingly at you as he walked away.)

 “Out of the seven billion people in the world, I was put into a group of seven with them,” Jinyoung joked as he opened the bottle of wine and started pouring you a glass. 

“Hey! You’re just as goofy as them,” you playfully chided, clinking your glass with his. “You’re just a teensy bit better at hiding it.” As you took a sip, you noticed him staring at you curiously. “What?”

He gave you a blissful grin. “Nothing, just wish I could capture this moment.”

“Oh! We should definitely take a picture!” You brought out your phone and switched it to the front camera. You were about to turn around in your seat so you could capture the both of you when Jinyoung got up and crouched by your side. “Why so close?”

“The sun is shining this way and I guess I was just attracted to you,” Jinyoung stated, a playful glint in his eye. “One might say that you’re so magne—” 

“Don’t even finish that thought,” you groaned at the lame attempt at a joke. “Cheesiness doesn’t suit you Jinyoung. Now smile!” Jinyoung placed his face next to yours and as you snapped a few pictures. 

“Perfect!” You proclaimed, swiping through the photos. 

“Yeah, you are.” 

You turned to look at him, his face a mere inches away from yours so he could whisper to you. Jinyoung silently gazed at you just as he did at the concert and the rest of the world seemed to melt away once again. Just the two of you. Youngjae’s melody faintly played in the background as Jinyoung grinned at you. Forgetting about the cameras, your face subconsciously moved closer to his. “Jinyoung...”

Just as you two were about to cause an international broadcasting incident—

“Dinner’s ready!” Jaebum arrived at your table with a cart of food and pulled Jinyoung up. “Sir, please take a seat so you can eat comfortably.” Jinyoung, in his shocked state, let the leader pull him back around the table and firmly plant him back in his seat.

“Oppa...”

“I trust you will enjoy tonight’s special,” Jaebum stated grandly as he uncovered the dishes. “We have a couple of dishes here I think you’ll like. We’ll start off with the steak, or as I have named it on the menu, ‘you better not make a mis-steak.’” Jaebum scowled at Jinyoung as he placed the dishes in front of you. Your eyes darted back and forth between the two boys, praying in your head that you weren’t about to be a murder witness at that moment. 

Jinyoung simply smiled at the leader, unfazed by his subliminal threat. “You can trust me, I’ll enjoy the meal.”

Jaebum silently glared at Jinyoung for a moment before sighing and giving him a resigned smile. “I know I can. Please eat, I hope it was worth the wait.” Jaebum gave you a wink and gently tousled your hair before walking away. 

As the two of you dug in and you went into a story about a time you almost failed your microeconomics class, the words Jaebum head left him with lingered in Jinyoung’s head. You were definitely worth the wait. Despite the cautionary voices in the back of his head ordering him to keep away from you, he realized you were always the end to his decision. 

It’s you, girl.

——

[gusenitsaa]

Between him and the world.

Excerpt from: Lingering by @distant-rose  (She left a whumpy detail undescribed so ... obviously I had to write the backstory thing.)  Starts as an angsty chat, turns into fanficing in @pirate-owl‘s inbox....as I do.  Complete with occasional conversational detours for @distant-rose‘s entertainment :P  

She finds a particularly jagged scar cutting across the left side of abdomen, cleverly hidden by the dark body of a vicious looking shark. She runs her fingers along it, studying it with a small frown.“Where did you get this guy?”

“The shark? Ages ago. Was drunk and thought it would look menacing.”

“I wasn’t talking about the shark,” Emma replies, deliberating tracing the old wound and looking up at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m talking about the scar.”

Killian is silent for a long moment, to the point that Emma is certain that he’s never going to answer her. However, he opens his mouth and lets out a shaky breath before speaking in a low voice just above a whisper. “When I was boy…There was a captain of a ship who…he…he wasn’t a good man and he threatened my brother with a knife when he thought we were knicking his rum…I got in between them.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

@gusenitsaa​ :  I mean that’s an @icecubelotr44​ level tempting tidbit

@pirate-owl : wow Liam would have been pissed.Not at the man threatening him, he is used to threats, but at his idiot little brother who got in the way.  And Liam is better at defusing a potentially violent situation than Killian is. No one might have been stabbed if Killian hadn't gotten involved. Or Liam might have, but since when has that mattered to Liam?

Gusenitsaa: Also, ironically I suspect Liam was actually nicking his rum.  How else does he usually manage to have a bit on hand for when Killian gets himself hurt?

Pirate-Owl: Ugh! That just makes it worse!   :’( :’( :’(  Ooooh! Do you that is what gives Liam his insanely protective complex?

Gusenitsaa: I dunno.  Killian is what, 10.  How long has brennan been gone at that point in your head canon?

Pirate-Owl: Killian was nine or ten when Brennan sold them. At least in my headcanon.

Gusenitsaa: Right.... the actors age thing is screwing me up again because lil' liam is definitely not 16-17

Pirate-Owl: It can go as low as maybe seven or eight if I really want an age gap. But yeah, Liam I usually headcanon as maybe five years older than Killian, and that is at the upper limit of the age gap.

Gusenitsaa: Well I guess it depends on that.  If brennan had been gone for three years before this happened I kinda doubt liam managed to avoid a complex for so long.  But if this is fairly soon after brennan left its definitely the kind of mess that could traumatize him into the obsessed-with-protecting-the-little-one mess we know and love

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. If this is soon, then it could totally be where Liam got his complex. But I think he managed to avoid a complex for like a week before he was that lovable traumatized mess.

Gusenitsaa: And we know I do love the head canon that it wasn't just a gradual transition.  I do love the idea of " Something " happening that triggered him to suddenly realign every priority the way he does

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. I think it makes more sense. I mean you could make a convincing argument for Brennan selling them being the Something, but honestly it's more interesting fun in line with what little we know about him before and after if there was some other specific catalyst that prompted it

Gusenitsaa: yeah almost watching your 10 year old brother die because you weren't careful covering your tracks knicking the supplies you need

Pirate-Owl: That does seem like a fairly extreme Something.

Gusenitsaa: course its worse if it wasn't actually about rum as a disinfectant and it was a teenaged liam's half a second of being a normal teenage boy.....

Pirate-Owl: :’( Which is why he never lets himself be a normal teenage boy ever again.   :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa: Like 15 yo Liam: does something that like 90% of teenagers have done at some point  *almost gets his little brother killed * Well.... I guess I'll just never ever be a kid ever again.  cool. cool.

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. Sounds exactly like Liam.

Gusenitsaa:

It hadn’t even been enough to get him tipsy.

It was a feeble protest and one that he was smart enough to keep locked behind his lips when the captain confronted him about the swallow of rum that he shouldn’t have possibly been able to notice was missing from the captain’s bottle and maybe he didn’t know -maybe he just guessed- Liam’s mind was scrambling. It was a stupid, foolish impulse.  A reckless and useless act of rebellion against a situation he couldn’t escape and  he’d regretted it practically as soon as the liquid burned its way passed his lips.  That was two days ago now and he’d thought it had gone unnoticed.

Until now.

The captain looked like he’d had more than a swallow or two by the time he confronted Liam, cornering him below where he’d been helping Killian to stack crates.  He thought at first he was going to be yelled at for assisting his little brother… again… but it was nonsense.  Killian, all of ten years old last week he shoved the bitterness down further and closed that trunk hard  He was too little to lift the crates, and couldn’t reach high enough to tie them securely in place.  Liam had wondered more than once if giving this job to a nine ten year old was more about giving him an excuse to ‘correct’ the boy later than it was about actually wanting the hold ‘organized.’

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa:

Regardless, the captain seemed not even to notice Killian, who shrank back behind a crate instinctively when he came bellowing down.  Liam shot his brother a look that he hoped communicated do. not. move. and glanced into the enraged and drunken eyes of their owner captain.  

If he admitted it, he was dead.

Stealing from the captain didn't have degrees on this ship so Liam adopted an apologetic submissive expression...  then lied through his teeth.  "I never would, captain, I swear it.'

The captain was unimpressed,  pressing closer until Liam could smell the rum.  It smelled far fouler now on his captain’s breath than it had tasted.

“You’re worthless-“ the captain sneered.  “Don’t know why I keep either of you brats.” 

Liam shoved the indignation down and kept his tone calm and deferring. “We work hard, Cap’n.” 

“Just another damned mouth to feed.  It’s no wonder your father left you behind.  I should have kept the boat.” 

Yes, you should have.

He kept his eyes locked in the captain’s direction,  trying to suppress the urge to glance at Killian to see his reaction. Even at barely ten years old he gave Liam's temper a run for its money.  Twice the fire and half the will to keep it reigned in, all in a tiny package barely tall enough to reach the top of one of these crates .

Apologize first.  Avert the captain’s rage first.  Hate him later.  Survive first,  think later.

“I’m sorry you think so, cap’n-“

The captain sneered and didn’t let him finish,  charging forward before Liam had time to blink.  He sees a flash of silver and he froze,  unable to think,  unable to decide… can’t fight back,  it’ll get them killed, can’t run away there’s no where to run.

And then every alarm bell in his 15 year old brain went off at once because his little spitfire-of-a-brother had darted out from behind the crate faster than lightening.

“No, K-“  It was too late.  Killian barreled between Liam and his captain.  A quiet hiss of breath and the captain stumbled back.  Rage and confusion balanced precariously for a moment that something had come between him and his target.  Then the man grinned and Liam’s stomach sank.  He reached for Killian,  tugging him behind him an eternity too late as the captain laughed. 

There was blood on his hands.  It took Liam a moment to realize that it was on his own hands too.

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’( 

Gusenitsaa:

He took his eyes off his laughing captain to where he held Killian pressed to his side with one arm.  Killian looked a little sick and his hands were pressed tight to his stomach, bright red blood seeping between his fingers.

No.

Liam turned fully to Killian as he sagged, the words of the captain entirely irrelevant now.  He thought he’d heard something about ‘a lesson’ but he just didn’t care enough to turn back.  Apparently the captain decided that he’d done enough because a blade didn’t slide between his ribs while he sank to the ground with Killian.

“Killian what the devil were you thinking?” he hissed. Killian grinned up at him. It was more grimace than grin, admittedly, but Liam saw the defiant spark in his little brother’s eye and shook his head, hands hesitating for only a moment before pulling off his tunic to press it against the wound.  He wished he had something better,  something cleaner,  but there was nothing in this room save boxes and ropes and Killian’s smirk had fallen,  replaced with a groan as Liam pressed down on it.

“That’s what you get, you-”  He trailed off,  Some poorly thought through chastisement on the tip of his tongue but his mouth dried up on the word ‘bloody.’  “Killian, look at me.”Killian’s eyes slanted open and Liam nodded.  “Good. It’s not bad, all right?  You’re going to fine.  I’m going to take care of you.”

Pirate-Owl: (Do at least try to remember that Killian has to survive to tell the story of the scar later)

Gusenitsaa: plot twist,  it wasn't liam's first deal with a devil.  except even I'm not awful enough to kill a fictional ten year old

Pirate-Owl: It's always good to know what your limit is. Stabbing a fictional ten year old is acceptable but killing one isn't.

Gusenitsaa: technically distant rose stabbed him

Pirate-Owl : She didn't run with it!

Gusenitsaa: I'm just leveraging it to break a 15 year old utterly...

Pirate-Owl: *sideeyes*

Gusenitsaa:

“Killian, look at me.”  Killian’s eyes slanted open and Liam nodded.  “Good. It’s not bad, all right?  You’re going to fine.  I’m going to take care of you.” 

“I know,” came the breathy response. The words hurt.  Gods they hurt more than anything Killian could have said in that moment.  Killian trusted him.  Trusted him completely and this was all his fault…(though I suspect later brennan will get his share of the blame)

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’( :’(

Gusenitsaa: 

He thought that quiet assurance had hurt more than anything else could.  He was wrong.  One moment Killian's gaze had been steady and assured then something in Liam's face must have faltered and Killian's face fell with it, a hint of a scared ten year old peaking through the cracks.

"It's alright," Liam reassured quietly, fighting to keep the uncertainty from his voice and his hands steady.  He desperately wanted to lift the fabric slightly,  but he was afraid to remove the makeshift bandage which already seemed to be doing so little to slow the flow of blood.  He pulled a small knife in a leather sheath from his pocket.  It didn't belong to him,  was just granted to him for the job of cutting the ropes."Bite down on this," Liam said quietly, and Killian obliged, all too familiar with this dance.  Liam folded the messy layers of his now scarlet tunic on top of each other to thicken the bandage and pressed down hard.  "Sorry, little brother," he muttered under his breath when Killian went stiff, a small whimper all the noise he permitted himself.  He was too young.  Too young to know how to do that.  

Liam cursed Brennan again.

The blood chilled on Liam's hands and Killian shivered.  He was pale and looked a little glassy eyed but he held Liam's gaze for a moment.  Liam tugged him closer, risking taking one hand from the wound to pull Killian into his lap.  Killian rested his head against Liam,  looking sleepy and befuddled, as though he'd just woken up from a long nap.  He should be in a warm bed with a doctor to care for him.  He shouldn't be here at all.

Pirate-Owl: :’(

Gusenitsaa:

The sheath fell from Killian's mouth as his head dropped heavier against his brother,  dragged under by a tide of exhaustion and blood loss.  The blade landed with a thump on the wood next to them, and Liam's rising panic was calmed slightly by Killian meeting his eyes.  "Just resting" Killian said weakly.   Liam's eyes slipped to the knife next to them.  It was a little thing,  barely long enough for the job he was expected to do with it.

Long enough to rip out the captain's throat.

The thought came to him in a surprising calmness.  It wasn't threat or despair. He just knew, in that moment, that if Killian didn't survive neither would the captain.It was little comfort.

(It is a truth universally acknowledged that in every universe... liam is one bad day away from murder.  Apparently even at 15)

Pirate-Owl: (Does it really count as murder if he is killing the man who owns him?)

Gusenitsaa: justifiable homicide is probably not a thing that exists in this contexts though it probably should

Pirate-Owl: Yeah. I don't think the crew would care why.

Gusenitsaa:

Killian's shivering was growing worse by the moment,   and Liam tugged him closer,  wondering if he dared move Killian yet.  There wasn't much in terms of blankets aboard, but this time of year there was little competition for them,  the room felt warm to Liam even as Killian trembled.   Killian had always been the little one, and now, fighting for every crust, Liam supposed he always would be.  He could move Killian, yes,  but it would mean taking the pressure off his wound.  Was it a good trade for the chance to get him wrapped up in some blankets and ease the trembling? He took Killian's hand and his little brother opened one eye.  "Can you hold it?" he asked quietly.

Killian nodded instantly,  agreeing probably before he’d had the chance to think about it.  Liam waited a moment to see if he would change his mind.  Killian’s hand replaced Liam’s and Liam scooped Killian up quickly, making for the crews quarters.

It was a risk.  There were some among the crew who would use this weakness to their advantage, but Liam had a blade in his pocket and he couldn’t hide Killian in the hold forever.  He needed water and blankets and a real doctor.

Pirate-Owl: :’( :’(

Gusenitsaa: 

This crew had no real doctor.  They had a surgeon.  A man who was more accurately described as a butcher than a doctor.  Good for little more than wrapping up wounds and chopping off limbs.  Liam shuddered slightly at the thought.  He could find the blankets and water at least.

He settled Killian in the bunk they shared.  It was a tiny thing,  though that rarely bothered them.  It was unusual for them to share a shift off, in fact it only ever happened when one of them was injured badly enough that the captain was forced to give them a few hours of unscheduled relief or risk the loss of a pair of working hands and then it was a relief to have the other close enough to watch their back. Today was no exception.  Liam hesitated, once Killian was settled,  the prospect of leaving him alone unnerving.  He fished the tiny knife from his pocket and pressed it into Killian's grip.  

"I'll be back as soon as I can."  Killian had done well,  jaw tight, but letting no sound of weakness escape him as Liam carried him into the crew's quarters.  Now he whimpered slightly and Liam tousled his hair.  "Count to 100 little brother,  and I'll be back."

Killian nodded and Liam could see his lips moving, the  count beginning under his breath.  Liam did the same,  moving from the side of the cot in search of water and blankets.  4...5...6... 

The warmth of the season meant sheets were available, fortunately,  though stashed in various nooks and crannies.  When he found them they were musty from the hold but thankfully dry.  40... 41... 42...  He shook them out and threw several over a shoulder.  Water was both easier and harder, depending on who watched the barrel today.  56... 57... 58... Liam was relieved to see one of the younger crewman there.  He had no taste for generosity or for malace, which was about as good as he could hope for.  Liam offered both Killian's flask and his own to the man for their daily water ration and he filled it without objection.  It was very nearly the only thing that had gone right today. 

He returned to Killian's side before he reached 90 and Killian gave him a relieved smile.  Liam helped him sit up and Liam cut a strip from one of the cleaner sheets to serve as a bandage.  Liam tied it overtop of his now scarlet tunic,  still too afraid to risk moving it yet.  He pulled out Killian's flask and offered it to him.  "Slowly,"  he warned.  They were not becalmed and water rations were reasonable at the moment but they didn't have enough to risk Killian being sick even with Liam’s own flask full as well. Killian sipped at the flask and Liam helped him lay down again with a grimace, tucking the sheets in around Killian tightly.  His motions were quick and efficient and he barely realized how little he'd spoken to Killian since this all started until Killian's small voice jerked him out of his head.  

"Are you angry with me, Liam?"

"No." Liam replied instantly, without thinking, and then he glanced sideways at Killian. Sod it.  "Yes.  Yes, I am you idiot you could have been killed."

"He was going to hurt you. You'd have done it for me."

"That's different," Liam snapped, not bothering to explain.  "Promise me you'll never do that again."  

Killian shook his head and Liam stared bewildered.  

"I mean it Killian,  promise" Pirate-Owl: I feel like sobbing emojis are redundant... and yet...

Gusenitsaa: 

Killian shook his head again and Liam cursed his stupid stubborn git-of-a-brother who was so determined to drive him mad.  He was ten.  Ten years old and already more stubborn than a mule.  He was just a kid,  and yet somehow inexplicably felt it was a reasonable thing to refuse to promise not to step in front of a knife again.

Liam wanted to shake him.  To order him, to beg him to make that promise but he could see the futility of it in Killian's eyes.  He sighed instead.  Killian was still trembling and Liam shifted,  helping Killian to move  a bit towards the wall so he could lay along the edge of the cot, between Killian and the rest of the crew's quarters.

Between Killian and the world.