#sketches on the hospital hallway;

[mpxayden]

[...] The sigh of relief wasn't missed by the nurse and he smiled, carefully putting the drawing away on his pile of files. He looked at the young man, at his radiant but tired face at the compliments. "Never doubt of your talent, whatever people can tell you" he gently said, peeking at the drawing again. It indeed wasn't Tsukiko's usual ward but now that he had found someone who seemed to need help, he wasn't going to leave them alone in the middle of the hallway. Lunch could wait and his colleagues of the Cardiac Cares would call him if his help was wanted.  "Ayden, that's a pretty name ! I'm happy to meet you too. You are on the right level but the Psychology Ward is on the other side of the hallway. I'm going in that direction, come with me ?" Then Tsukiko would see if he could find his file before recommending him to one of the doctors. "Do you often have sleep problems ?" he asked as he waited for Ayden to be ready to go.

Ayden looked through his sleep deprivation to follow the nurse’s hand moves, his lips tugged up into a small smile as the portrait sketch was now safe in the other’s folder. He did not miss the way Tsukiko took just one more glance at the sketch while talking to him, and that sent a right amount of pride to Ayden’s almost numb senses. 

“I’m still learning not to give a damn about the comments,” he admitted, his lack of sleep made the effort to brush the heavy feelings off his heart look more effortless. “People tend to be careless with their words, you know.” 

His mood slump lasted as long as a blink of an eye, as now his tired brain got a piece of much more practical information to digest. At the other’s comment about his name, Ayden responded with an easy “Thank you!” It was interesting, as Tsukiko was the first one to compliment the sound of his name, something Ayden himself had never really thought about. 

Looking up at Tsukiko with slightly wider eyes, Ayden sat in silence for a few seconds, then concluded with a foolish chuckle. “Ah, so I’m at the right place, but not really the right place.” He then gave a quick nod of his head to the nurse’s invitation to tag along, taking a few more seconds to realize that meant he should put his sketchbook and pencil case back into his backpack. 

Ayden’s hands moved on their own, he believed, as he did not really remember how he gathered his stuff and zipped the backpack before standing up from the bench. Holding the backpack loosely in one hand, he let his legs move themselves to follow Tsukiko, leaving his brain enough space to hold the conversation with the nurse coherently. 

“Quite often, mostly when I’ve got deadlines, and in wintertime.” He then asked Tsukiko, his voice got slightly slurred because of the physical tiredness. “How long have you been working here? Which ward are you working at?”

[ivorycowboy]

Sometimes you just need to draw your favorite character yelling at your least favorite character. As a treat.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

Yandere Landlord x Reader

You move to New York because you have no reason to stay anywhere else.

After the breakup—after him—there was no home left. The apartment in Chicago had grown cold, not just in winter, but in the way it echoed with silence even when you were still living there. So, when the hospital called with a residency offer, you packed fast and drove faster, your old car chugging like it resented the weight of your regret.

You arrive in Brooklyn with three suitcases, a secondhand coffee maker, and too many scars to count. Internally. Externally, you’ve always passed for composed, professional. Polished even, when you put in the effort. People don’t see what you don’t let them.

The apartment is perfect. Too perfect. That’s the first red flag, but you don’t want to see it. The rent is suspiciously affordable. Hardwood floors. High ceilings. An antique clawfoot tub. When you visit the unit, sunlight pours in like a promise. You pause at the window, tracing the skyline in your mind like you’re sketching a new future.

The landlord is handsome in that quiet, overlooked kind of way. He introduces himself as Andy, says he inherited the building from his grandfather. Says he’s doing some renovations—you’ll hear some noise now and then, hope that’s not a dealbreaker. He smiles like he’s nervous. Like he isn’t used to people looking directly at him.

You don’t ask too many questions. The building feels safe. Andy feels harmless. You’re tired of running.

So you sign the lease.

You don’t notice the way he watches you. Not at first.

The first few weeks are a blur of hospital rotations and late-night subway rides. You’re barely home long enough to unpack. When you do sleep, it’s dreamless, like your mind’s been rinsed clean by exhaustion. You only vaguely remember Andy helping you carry your boxes upstairs, his fingers brushing yours when he handed over the keys. You’d thanked him. Smiled.

Sometimes you hear footsteps in the hallway at odd hours. A whisper of movement. But you tell yourself it’s just another tenant. You haven’t met your neighbors yet. You don’t plan to.

The first time something feels off is when you find your toothbrush slightly damp at 7 p.m. You haven’t used it since morning. You think maybe you’re being paranoid. Then your shampoo is in a different spot. Your towels are folded differently. The window in the bathroom is open when you never open it.

You change the locks.

Andy drops by with a bottle of wine a few days later. Says it’s a welcome gift. You accept it awkwardly, standing half-behind your door. You never drink it.

That night, you hear a thud inside the walls. You tell yourself it’s the pipes. Old buildings do that.

You feel eyes on you when you sleep.

You can’t explain it. It’s like your body knows something before your mind can catch up. You start waking up in cold sweats. You start locking your bedroom door. You stop using the bathtub.

Then one night, you wake up to the sound of breathing.

Not your own.

You freeze, heart pounding. You listen. It’s faint, ragged. Almost desperate. You flick on the light.

Nothing.

You check every room. You look under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. You find nothing but shadows. Still, you feel it. Someone has been in here.

You go to Andy the next day. You try to be casual, but your voice trembles. You ask if there’s any chance someone has access to your apartment. He frowns, concerned. Says he’ll change the locks personally. Says he’ll install extra security. Says it with the same calm voice a doctor might use before slipping in a needle.

You almost believe him.

Then you find the camera.

It’s hidden behind the vent in your bedroom. You only see it because the grate is slightly ajar. Tiny. Barely noticeable. You wouldn’t have noticed it at all if the wind hadn’t shifted the angle of light on the wall.

You don’t scream. You sit there, your heart slowly collapsing in your chest. Your skin prickles with invisible hands. Every second you’ve ever spent in this apartment flashes through your mind—every moment alone, every private breath.

He’s been watching you.

You leave that night.

You get a hotel. You call the cops. You tell them everything.

But by the time they investigate, the camera’s gone. The vent is closed. The apartment is clean. No signs of forced entry. No fingerprints. Just you and your paranoia.

You try to stay at a friend’s, but you can’t stop looking over your shoulder. You can’t stop imagining him slipping into your room in the middle of the night. You start seeing Andy’s face in crowds. In reflections. In your sleep.

You change your phone number. You quit your residency.

But he still finds you.

He waits for you in your hotel room. You come back from a late dinner, fumbling with your keycard, and he’s just there, inside. Like he’s always belonged there. Like you’re the one intruding.

He doesn’t threaten. He just talks.

He tells you he didn’t mean to scare you. That he just wanted to be close to you. That he fell in love the moment he saw you. That he made your apartment perfect because you deserved it.

That he watched you cry after phone calls and wanted to hold you.

That he listened to your breathing because it was the only sound that ever made him feel calm.

You back away slowly. You have a knife in your purse. You never used to carry one.

You draw it as he steps closer.

He doesn’t stop.

You stab him in the side.

He gasps. Bleeds. Smiles.

And still, still, he tries to touch your face like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

AN: I stole the plot from The Resident.

Masterlist

[tedmustache]

Can you write a fic where the fem!reader is a med student and accidentally calls Robby "Dad." He starts calling her "kid" and it becomes a small thing for them. After a hard case, the reader is close to a panic attack and Robby is there to comfort them, just like a dad?

Hey, Kid

Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x Platonic!Fem!Reader

Summary: After a sleep-deprived mistake leads to the reader accidentally calling Dr. Robby “Dad,” the nickname “kid” becomes a quiet, constant thread between them.

Warnings: Medical setting (hospital trauma cases), Grief over patient death (minor character), Panic attack symptoms (breathlessness, shaking, emotional distress), Comfort after emotional distress, Mentorship and familial themes (reader/mentor dynamic, not romantic)

Main Masterlist

[...]

You’d been on your feet for thirteen hours, running on one granola bar, an energy drink you regretted two hours ago, and sheer panic. The trauma pager had been going off like it was trying to set a world record, and somehow every single attending had disappeared when it was time to present the new patient.

Except Robby.

Of course, it was Robby.

He stood across from you now, arms crossed, watching you like a hawk while you sputtered through a case summary that sounded a lot smoother in your head than it did aloud.

“…penetrating abdominal trauma, vitals unstable, FAST was positive—uh, positive… and we’re, I mean I was thinking we should prep for the OR—”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Unless you think there’s something else we should—”

“Finish your sentence before you second-guess yourself” he interrupted, not unkindly. “You're presenting. Own it.”

You nodded quickly, cheeks hot. “Right. Prep for the OR.”

A beat passed. Then he gave a small nod, turning to the trauma team. “She’s right. Let’s move.”

You exhaled, finally breathing, and trailed behind as they rolled the patient toward surgery. As the doors swung shut, you felt the adrenaline ebb from your system, replaced with the thudding crash of fatigue.

“Good call, kid” Robby said as he turned away from the board.

And before you could think. Before your caffeine-deprived brain could stop you, it happened.

“Thanks, Dad.”

The hallway went silent. For exactly three seconds.

You froze.

Robby blinked. You blinked. A resident walked by, did a double take, and wisely kept walking.

“I—I meant Dr. Robby! Sir! I mean—I didn’t—”

Robby stared at you for a beat longer

“Well,” he said slowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’ve been called worse.”

You slapped a hand over your face. “I’m so sorry, that was—”

“Relax. You’re not the first sleep-deprived med student to do it. You just said it loud enough for the whole ER to hear.”

“Please let me die in peace” you muttered.

He snorted. “Not on my shift, kid.”

The nickname stuck. After that, “kid” became a thing.

He called you “kid” when he passed you in the hall. When you brought him a chart. When you correctly identified a spinal fracture. When you tripped over an unplugged IV line and nearly faceplanted into a gurney.

“You okay, kid?”

“Nice catch, kid.”

“Don’t touch that, kid. Do you want to get yelled at by Neuro?”

And despite your initial horror, it grew on you. It was nice, in a weird way. Especially because Robby didn’t just call anyone that. At least, not with that tone. Half exasperated, half protective, like he actually gave a damn.

And he did, you were starting to realize.

Even when he made you redo your discharge summaries three times. Even when he roasted your slightly incorrect anatomy sketch in front of Jack (you had been tired, okay?). Even when he acted like he didn’t care, but showed up every time things got hard.

Like today.

You’d just lost a patient. A teenager. Hit by a drunk driver while biking home from soccer practice. There’d been a window. A small and hopeful window, and you’d clung to it with both hands.

And then you watched it slam shut in front of you.

You stood in the supply room now, the door shut, hands braced on the counter. Your scrubs were stained, your gloves long gone, and your lungs felt like they’d forgotten how to expand.

Your heart was racing. Too fast. You knew the signs too well.

The edges of your vision pulsed. Your hands were starting to tremble.

No. Not here. Not now.

You bit your lip and counted.

In. One, two, three

Out. One, two, three

The door creaked open.

You didn’t have to turn around. You knew the voice.

“Hey, kid.”

You closed your eyes.

“Not a good time” you croaked.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”

You didn’t answer. Your hands tightened on the edge of the counter until your knuckles went white.

“I shouldn’t have—I should’ve caught it,” you said suddenly. “His pressure dipped and I hesitated, and maybe if I’d said something sooner, or—or run the second unit faster—”

“Stop.” His voice was firm, but not harsh. “That kid died because a drunk driver made a choice. Not because of you.”

You shook your head, breath hitching. “I didn’t do enough.”

“You did everything.”

Silence. Then the soft shuffle of his footsteps. You felt a hand on your shoulder, solid and steady.

“You’re allowed to feel it” Robby said. “That’s part of the job. But don’t carry what’s not yours.”

You finally looked up. He wasn’t glaring. He wasn’t giving you a speech about boundaries or toughness or professionalism.

He just looked… there. Real. Human.

Like a dad.

“I hate this part” you whispered.

“Me too.”

Your eyes welled up, and that was it. You let go.

You didn’t sob. There wasn’t time for that. But a tear or two slipped down your cheek, and when your legs wobbled, Robby guided you gently to sit on the counter stool like he’d done this a hundred times before.

Which, you realized, he probably had.

He stayed for a minute. Maybe two. Just long enough for your breathing to even out. For the shaking to stop.

Then he patted your back. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you a coffee.”

You wiped your face and nodded.

He opened the door, and before you stepped out, he glanced at you sideways.

“You know,” he said, “Dana keeps asking why I don’t have kids.”

You blinked at him. “And what do you say?”

He shrugged. “I say I already have one.”

You laughed, soft and a little broken. But it felt better than crying.

“Lucky me" you said.

Robby gave a lopsided smile. “Damn right.”

[blue-mood-blue]

I’ve grown to appreciate the aus where Shen Yuan enters the story as “Shen Yuan” - same name, probably similar face, generally able to interact with PIDW as himself and change the story through his added presence. I like the sense of “if only you’d been here, things might have been better the first time around” of it all.

And I was thinking, it’s a funny coincidence in that scenario that someone named Shen Yuan gets put into… another Shen Yuan. What are the chances? What a weird twist of fate that Airplane would pick out the name that his most dedicated critic could slip into seamlessly.

What about a version where it’s not coincidence at all?

Airplane goes to school with a kid named Shen Yuan. He’s prickly and hard to approach and a little intense, but Airplane is persistent. In fairness, Airplane is relentless - and maybe it’s a good thing that they end up being friends, because they’re a little too much for anyone else to handle. They balance each other out. They’re the “weird kids” in class and they’re okay with that, because even when they don’t have any words for it, they know they’re not like their classmates, not really. That’s okay; they don’t want to be.

Recesses and breaks are consumed with the elaborate stories that Airplane wants to tell, and all the holes Shen Yuan pokes into them. It’s not mean-spirited, though, even though Shen Yuan isn’t the kind to temper his words. It’s passionate. He cares about those stories the way Airplane cares about them, and it can’t be mistaken for anything else when they lean together conspiratorially across the lunchroom table. They’ve both got notebooks filled with details and characters and monsters. Shen Yuan’s practically got a whole bestiary sketched out in wobbly childhood attempts at art, entries fervently scrawled beside them. Airplane prattles out plots nonstop, always with the promise of shining eyes and being asked “what happens next?”

They come up with a whole world together. Airplane’s going to write about it someday. Shen Yuan is going to read every word.

Shen Yuan misses school. Shen Yuan starts missing school a lot.

Airplane goes to the hospital room instead. He doesn’t think to worry, because Shen Yuan is okay - that’s what he says. He looks okay, and he’s a kid, and it doesn’t feel real that anything bad should happen to a kid. He doesn’t think to worry. He doesn’t think to say goodbye.

It’s one of the older Shen brothers who catches him on the way up to the room one day, in the hallway just outside - snaps at him to go the fuck home, and when Airplane hesitates, pushes him into the elevator and tells him not to come back. “Tells” is a generous way to describe the way the words come out - a growl, a hiss, the sound an animal would make when a hand got too close to a wound.

(It’s not fair to name a villain after him, even if the name never really comes up in the story. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He’d lost a brother minutes before, and he was getting his brother’s friend out of the way so he didn’t have to… see. It isn’t fair, but then, none of it is fair.)

Death feels very real after that.

The notebooks get shoved into a closet, and it’s not until Airplane’s moving out and one falls on him from a high shelf that he thinks about it again. He’s written things, lots of things, but nothing as ambitious as this - nothing as important. It could be good, he considers. He’d promised. Shen Yuan wanted to read it.

The problem was that no one else does, not for a long time, not until Airplane has whittled himself and his art into a corner and into such an unfamiliar shape that he has to wonder how it’s still his own face he sees in the mirror. He has to eat. He has to pay rent. Shen Yuan would yell at him, but Shen Yuan isn’t there to yell at him, and who cares. Who cares if it could have been better? The people who actually are here love it, and it’s paying his bills, and sometimes stories don’t go the way they’re supposed to and the world is fucking unfair. It doesn’t matter.

(It does. But he shoves that thought away along with styrofoam cups and soda bottles to the bottom of a garbage bag.)

Authors are not gods and their power is limited, but Airplane exercises just a sliver of what he’s been granted and gifts an inconsequential sort of immortality. He thinks about making him a rogue cultivator, maybe the kind that goes around documenting beasts and compiling his findings. He thinks about making him someone too powerful for death to touch, or too important to threaten, but when Airplane looks at the world he crafted and everything that’s become of it, it feels like the kindest thing he can do for Shen Yuan is a childhood where he’s loved, and a death that’s peaceful. What does it say about that world, that he’d kill off his best friend too early again instead of making him live there?

(The best writing he ever does is the only, shining moment of humanity that his scum villain ever displays: a lament about death that comes too early, about a brother gone too soon. The commenters praise him. The commenters flatter over how real the emotions feel. The commenters don’t get any response from Airplane on that chapter.)

Death is incredibly real when it comes for him too early, too, still hovering over his keyboard with the story technically finished and incredibly incomplete. Airplane could tell himself that’s because the written version can never be the version in the writer’s head, always shifting and with every possibility still on the table, but he knows better than that. The System knows better than that, with its condescending message about “improving” his writing and “closing plot holes” and “achieving his original vision”...

…and he’s a child again. He’s a child in his own story, he’s Shang Qinghua now without the benefit yet of a peak or cultivation or anything, and maybe he’s a little bitter, and a little scared, and…

And Shen Yuan - with longer hair, with robes, with a couple of older kids watching him from across the street, but undeniably the prickly little boy who used to sit down imperiously across from him and tell him everything that was wrong with the chuck of writing that had been handed to him last period, but with that smile that said he was only invested because he knew it could be better and they were going to make it better - marches up to him with a fire in his eyes and a frown that warns of a coming tirade.

“You told it wrong,” is the first thing he says.

Shang Qinghua wants to ask how him how he’s here, how this is possible, or maybe laugh because, yeah - yeah, Shen Yuan has no goddamn idea how wrong he got absolutely everything.

(Shang Qinghua wants to say “I missed you” and “why did you leave so soon” but he’s here now. He’s right here.)

“I know,” he says instead. “I’m sorry. It all kind of… spiraled out of control.”

Shen Yuan frowns, but then it dissipates the way it always does, and his eyes shine with ideas the way they always used to. “That’s okay,” he relents, grabbing for his hand. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make it what it was supposed to be.”

[yeopoet]

MEET ME IN THE HALLWAY

`౨ৎ~ pairing: ateez x gn!reader genre: forbidden romance, fluff, kinda suggestive if you read between the lines ౿ ׂ ִ warnings: kissing (?) word count: 2k.

author's note: highly inspired by this post. ps: the divider does not belong to me.

﹒ ◠ ✩ hongjoong ⊹ ﹒

Two powerful families competing fiercely in the construction industry, locked in a never-ending battle over urban development projects: his family prioritizes large, luxurious complexes, while yours is dedicated to eco-friendly, sustainable initiatives. The differences between you go beyond business, turning what should have remained professional into something personal and deeply entrenched. Your parents have made it clear—they never want you anywhere near the Kims, and his parents share the same sentiment. But Hongjoong couldn’t care less about the rules. He sneaks to your bedroom window in the dead of night, not with malice, but driven by an irresistible urge to explore what he’s been told is forbidden. You’ve tried pushing him away, again and again, but nothing works. He’s relentless, and despite all the barriers that should keep you apart, to him, you’re the only thing that matters.

“You can’t just show up here like it’s no big deal,” you whisper-yell as you open your window. “They’ll find out, and that’ll be the end of both of us.”

“I’ve tried to forget about you, but it’s impossible.” Hongjoong exhales deeply, slipping through the window with ease, like sneaking into your room is something he’s mastered. “I missed our midnight talks.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What? Are you in love with me or something?”

He smiles, stepping closer until he’s near enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face. “And what if I am? Would that be so bad?”

﹒ ◠ ✩ seonghwa ⊹ ﹒

Someone born into a life of luxury, with a future carved out by endless wealth, isn’t supposed to waste his time with people of "lower status." As the heir to a well-established hospital chain, Seonghwa has never had to worry about anything—not even the clothes on his back. His sole purpose in life, as dictated by his family, is to follow the path toward taking his father’s place. But with dreams of his own, he somehow ended up in your studio, signing up for a beginner's sewing class. It wasn’t exactly the best first encounter, especially since your classes weren’t designed for heirs of empires, but over time, Seonghwa managed to capture your attention. He now pays for private lessons, driven by his passion to become a fashion designer. He shares sketches of outfits with you, designs he’s never dared to show anyone else. What was supposed to be a professional relationship between teacher and student gradually became something more. And honestly, how could he not fall for you?

“I know I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away.” His words spill out the moment you open the door, sadness pouring at your feet. “Please, just give me a chance to fix all of this.”

“You’ve already caused enough damage.” You take a deep breath, holding back tears. Watching him beg for something you both know he can’t change feels like a knife to the heart, and if you’re not careful, you might cave. He steps closer, and you know this is the moment to slam the door in his face—before his father shows up again, threatening to destroy everything you've built if you don’t leave Seonghwa alone. But your heart wavers, seeing the redness in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, Hwa. We can’t be together. If anyone sees us, it’ll be the end for both of-”

“Just one last time.” He’s crying now, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck like he's afraid you’ll disappear. “Let me be with you one last time.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ yunho ⊹ ﹒

It’s not easy having parents who watch your every move as if you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. But if it weren’t for their overbearing protectiveness, you never would’ve met Jeong Yunho, your bodyguard—the one who pulled you out of your monotonous life and gave you a taste of freedom. He sneaks you out for daring, late-night adventures, always careful not to push things too far and jeopardize both your lives. Yunho tried to keep his distance; he was never the kind of employee to cross the line. But avoiding his inevitable downfall with you was impossible.

“They warned me about you,” he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand gently cradling one side of your face. “But I didn’t listen.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t.” You smile openly, wrapping your arms around his waist before pressing your lips to his with intensity.

﹒ ◠ ✩ yeosang ⊹ ﹒

When the extravagance of your world becomes overwhelming, you find yourself seeking a place to breathe. Conveniently, that place always ends up being in the arms of Yeosang, the butler of your household. You've known each other since childhood, long before he took over his father’s role and before you were promised to marry someone you don’t love. The quiet meetings behind the tallest hedges in the garden offer you a peace you’ve never experienced around your family. The love that has never faded grows more painful as your wedding day draws near, and no matter how much you both long to escape, you know you've been condemned since the day you were born.

“This is the last time,” you whisper, casting a sorrowful glance at the man lying beside you. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Yeosang doesn’t respond right away but holds your gaze with a quiet tenderness. Then, after a few torturous seconds of silence, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “We said the same thing the last time we met,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you slowly, lingering. “The truth is, I’d have to move to another continent to ever be able to stay away from you.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ san ⊹ ﹒

He fought hard to get where he is. It wasn’t easy landing a job at one of the most prestigious networks in the country, and once inside, he quickly realized why the selection process was so difficult. His bosses are strict; they don’t tolerate irresponsibility and push him to the brink of exhaustion. Still, the salary makes it all worth it. San is building his life, shaping his dream career as a reporter, doing everything he can to avoid trouble. That is, until you, the boss’s daughter, showed up and threw all his plans into chaos. It wasn’t your intention to disrupt anyone. You’ve always kept a distance from the company’s employees, taking your duties as an heiress seriously. But who could have predicted that at a party with over 100 people, you’d end up kissing the newest intern?

“No one can know about this, promise me,” he whispers, gripping your elbow as he keeps the two of you dangerously close. “That was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

“As if I wanted it to,” you fire back, your breath mingling with his as your gaze locks onto his—eyes that are saying something completely different. “But if you keep pulling me into closed-off spaces out of nowhere, people are going to get suspicious, and it won’t be my fault.”

“Right, we should keep our distance,” he says, yet doesn’t move an inch. “I just wanted to make things clear.”

“I got the message loud and clear.” With every passing second, your faces inch closer. San tightens his grip on your arm, though not enough to hurt. He tilts his head, muttering a soft “good” against your lips before making the mistake of kissing you again.

﹒ ◠ ✩ mingi ⊹ ﹒

A friendship that has lasted for years could never be shaken by something trivial—or so you thought. But could your feelings for her brother be enough to ruin everything? She’s always made it clear that Mingi is off-limits. He constantly breaks her friends’ hearts, and they always end up drifting away. So, to keep the friendship intact, she put up a wall between the two of you. Too bad it only makes things more exciting from his perspective. You try your best to resist Mingi’s advances, but he makes it nearly impossible when he walks around the house shirtless after training, or when he finds lame excuses to touch you at random moments—like holding your waist to squeeze past you when there’s clearly plenty of space. It’s ridiculous.

“You really need to stop doing that,” you say, crossing your arms like you’re throwing a tantrum. Mingi looks at you, eyebrows raised, with that same clueless expression that drives you insane. “I’m serious, Mingi.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, leaning forward to reach something in the back of the fridge.

“There are literally two other ways to get to the fridge, and you chose the tightest spot—right where I’m standing.” You stomp your foot. “And not only that, you—”

Your sentence is cut off by the sound of the fridge door closing. Mingi steps closer, and you hold your breath. “And I what?” he asks, leaning against the counter without breaking eye contact. “Last I checked, this is my house, and I can walk wherever I want.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze and staring at your toes. Mingi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him again.

“I thought you liked it when I touched you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand slowly trailing down your shoulder, along your arm, until his fingers entwine with yours.

“We shouldn’t…” your voice falters. “Yena is—”

“I know, but I can’t help it sometimes.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ wooyoung ⊹ ﹒

He’s never been the type of guy to care about his friend’s girlfriend. It’s one of the most disloyal things you could do to a friendship. But when it comes to you, Wooyoung loses every last shred of honesty within himself. Falling for you was never part of his plan, and he tried everything he could to push those feelings away. If he had known that taking care of you when his friend messed up would spark such a dangerous affection, he would have let you handle your problems on your own. You, on the other hand, are deeply grateful for the countless times Wooyoung has saved you, and for showing you that love isn’t what you thought it was. All the lingering hugs, unfinished sentences, and the longing to give in to something forbidden have made you both question how much you're willing to sacrifice for each other.

“Every time I see you, I have to remind myself that you’re not mine,” he says, standing just far enough away to keep himself from giving in to his darker desires. He’s held back all this time, never crossing the line—but here you are, at his doorstep on a Saturday night, minutes after his best friend just left your house.

“So please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“And you think it’s easy for me?!” you explode, pushing his chest hard enough to make him stumble back a couple of steps. “You decide one night that you’re going to cut me out of your life, and you expect me not to react?”

Wooyoung grabs your arms, stopping you from hitting him again. “I’m trying to make things easier,” his eyes fill with tears, or maybe it’s yours—both of you just staring at each other, struggling not to sob out loud. You finally weaken, collapsing against his chest, muffling the sound of your pain as Wooyoung holds you tight, the way he always does.

“There’s no easy way out of this. No matter what we decide, someone’s going to end up hurt.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ jongho ⊹ ﹒

The life of a celebrity isn’t always glamorous. The fear of appearing in the tabloids caught in a dating scandal can feel more terrifying than the fear of death itself. After appearing on a variety show with you, Jongho developed a silly crush that, over time—fueled by risky texts during award shows and innocent meetups while everyone else was asleep—grew into something much bigger. To keep things discreet, you both decided to act indifferent toward each other, even though it’s become nearly impossible for him.

“Every moment we spend together is a risk, but I just can’t stay away,” Jongho says as he plants a flurry of kisses across your face. He made sure to clear out everyone from the dressing room just to have a few minutes alone with you before the show.

You laugh, trying to pull away from his eager touch to keep him from messing up your appearance. “Jongho! I have a performance in half an hour. You can’t mess up my makeup!”

He immediately steps back, placing his hands behind his back in an exaggerated effort to keep them off you. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“We’ll see each other later, okay?” You give him a playful, reassuring smile.

“Okay, I’ll try not to die until then.”

© yeopoet.

[radawaycunt]

High Risk

PART TWO: SILVER TONGUED DEVIL

Also on AO3

Part One // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Fem!Reader

WC: 3.1k words

Chapter Summary: In order to form a deeper connection with Hannibal, hoping to keep him complacent, Doctor Chilton allows you to have dinner with him…. Mostly unsupervised.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, slight canon divergence (frederick is still head of baltimore state hospital), manipulation all around, some jealousy, corruption, smut, handjob, kinda audio voyeurism but not really?, also kinda exhibitionistic but not really??, some alcohol consumption, aaaand thats all i can think of rn but lmk if i missed anything!

————-

You waited outside of the double doors with a guard, patiently carrying Hannibal’s meal tray. He had a visitor, a mutual acquaintance of Doctor Chilton’s, and they were not to be disturbed.

You couldn’t understand why you had to be standing there, but you figured it was a power move on Doctor Chilton’s part. Reminding you of your place. 

Your eyes flicked up to the security camera in the corner, suspecting he was watching more than one of them at a time. More than half an hour had passed, the silence stretching on infinitely. The guard had briefly tried to engage you in small talk, but he had quickly realized it was pointless. You already knew what sort of questions he would ask if he felt like he had any leeway, and you were not in the mood for it.

Already there were rumors speculating the sort of favors Hannibal was asking of you. You’d felt the gazes on you, caught the murmurs behind your back. You couldn’t deny that the more animal part of you, the one that had no such regard for personal safety, hadn’t thought about him that way. 

A few times, he had slipped a folded piece of paper for you to find when you retrieved his meal trays. Always sketches of you, symbolic renditions meant to convey messages. His attention to detail was astounding. Almost… devoted, in a way. 

Every time you posed for him, you found yourself enjoying his focus more and more. The thrill of it all was narcotic, but you only hated that it had brought other people’s attention to you. 

The doors suddenly opened and a tall, well dressed woman stepped out. She was strikingly beautiful, with icy blue eyes and neatly styled dark hair. Her lips were painted ruby, which further accentuated her features in an elegant but almost severe way.

Doctor Alana Bloom was her name. You’d heard of her from both Doctor Chilton and Hannibal, but you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting her in person until then.

“My, you’re a looker,” she said, inspecting you as if you were an insect under a microscope. “No wonder.”

You only smiled politely, internally seething. She could see right through you, smiling in return.

“He’ll charm the pants off you if you’re not careful.”

With that, she walked away, heels clicking down the hallway. The guard next to you let out a huff and you shot a glare in his direction.

He pushed off the wall and followed her, while you turned the other way and slipped into Hannibal’s cell room.

“Sorry, it might be a little cold,” you said as a greeting, making your way over to the slot. 

“You were waiting for me?” He asked.

“I was told to wait until you were done, yes.”

He noticed you were avoiding looking at him, though the displeasure itself wasn’t directed at him. He smiled a little to himself with satisfaction.

“Doctor Bloom is an old colleague of mine, but our history goes a little further than that,” he said. “A futile affair, that was.”

“No rekindling the flame then?” You asked before you could stop yourself. 

Of course that wasn’t what the visit was about, you knew as much. But you were still bristling from her words, and the smugness in them.

“No,” Hannibal said. “I’m afraid we are mutually uninterested, though we have some business left over.”

You hummed in thought, composing yourself. “I apologize for asking, it’s none of my business.”

“You may ask me whatever you want. I won’t mind telling you.”

You tilted your head to the side, where another camera was perched up in the corner. 

“We don’t have such liberties,” you said pointedly. “Though who knows? Maybe there’s an argument for our case.”

With that, a small, coquettish grin and a glance in his direction. Hannibal sat up straighter, licking his lips.  He glanced up at the camera, also well aware that Frederick was listening.

If anything, the two of you had been enjoying toying with him in any small way you could. It drove him crazy, but he mostly seethed in silence, knowing he was equally matched in this game.

“Perhaps dinner might be a good place to start,” he said.

“Oh yes, I would like that very much,” you said, exaggerating a wistful sigh. “But we shall see.”

————————————

“You know, you’re getting a little bold with all these requests,” Doctor Chilton said, arms crossed over his chest. 

“I know you have your methods of trying to get information out of him — or at least you think so,” you said, unbothered. “I mean, he has been much more forthcoming because of me, hasn’t he? I have my methods, too.”

He let out a sardonic chuckle. “Clearly. Others seem to think so, too, no?”

You didn’t give in to his goading, changing the subject instead. “Much luck with Doctor Bloom?”

“Some, actually,” he said, his sneer faltering. “But that shouldn’t really concern you. You’re still his favorite little doll to play with.”

And you mine, you thought to yourself, containing a grin.

“I’m aware,” you said instead, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s not too unreasonable to have dinner with him, especially with the glass still separating us.”

“Oh, but you’d be so much more useful if you were up close and personal. I could put you in one of the interrogation rooms and keep him handcuffed... But the problem is, he asked for total privacy. No cameras and no audio recordings,” he countered. “I cannot possibly do both. You know that’s not how it works.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, but you already knew what the obvious answer was.

“No cameras, then,” you said. “I would say that’s fair, no? You might not care for the video footage, anyway, not without sound.”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded in assent, knowing it was the best he would get. The ghost of a self-satisfied smile was on your lips, pleasure at getting what you wanted dancing in your eyes. 

As long as the rest of the team was getting the information they needed, by whatever means necessary, he supposed he couldn’t grouse too much. Regardless, that didn’t make him any less annoyed at being backed into a corner.

“You get an hour and a half tops,” he said with finality. “Work your magic. And wear something nice, why don’t you?”

————————————

The table had already been set for you when you arrived. A mediocre attempt at something romantic, with a few little tea lights and a half-dead flower in a plastic cup. You supposed the guards couldn’t be bothered with such nonsense, but it was also more mockery on Frederick’s part. 

But at that very moment, you couldn’t care less. In fact, you found yourself… excited for the night's events. 

It was nice not to wear your uniform for once, your nicest black dress in its place. It was nothing too special, but you only wore it on certain occasions, such as dates.

And while this may be the macabre version of a date, it was a date nonetheless.

You’d styled your hair differently, put on a little make up and even wore perfume, which you were rarely able to do. It was liberating in a way, as if granting you permission to step out of bounds a little more. You wouldn’t waste such an opportunity.

Your heels clicked softly on the linoleum floor as you slowly paced the room, anxiously waiting. You glanced down at your watch, and right as it hit eight o’clock, the door opened. Hannibal was led in by a guard, his hands cuffed in front of him. He smiled at the sight of you, his eyes roaming up and down to better appreciate you. 

Your heart immediately started racing, both from nerves and giddiness. You focused solely on him as he was led to the table, the situation becoming less surreal by the second. Despite the fact that he was in his usual jumpsuit, you could tell he had meticulously groomed himself as best as he could. 

Another guard came in to place two trays on the table, but the food wasn’t from the cafeteria. Apparently, Hannibal had been allowed to cook a two-course meal, dessert included. There was even some wine, but you had to settle for plastic cups instead of glasses. Not that either of you seemed to mind, too busy sizing each other up. 

It felt strange, not seeing him through a thick panel of glass, but it was even stranger to sit right across from him. You only had to reach out your arm and you’d be able to touch him… if it wasn’t forbidden, of course.

“I’m surprised Doctor Chilton did not join us for dinner,” he said as the guard cuffed him to the table.

“He’ll be here in spirit,” you said, briefly nodding at the two guards before they stepped out of the room. “But I think it’s better this way, don’t you agree?”

“Much better,” he agreed, pausing a moment until the door finally shut. “You look beautiful, by the way… And you smell good enough to eat. Just as I thought you would.”

You grinned at his dark sense of humor, suppressing a shudder as you crossed your legs and leaned back. “Well, flattery will get you anywhere.”

“And wine?”

He grabbed the already uncorked bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows. You nodded and he poured for both of you. 

“We shall see,” you said, taking the cup from him and holding his gaze.

“Well, a toast to our very gracious host,” he said, raising his cup. “For making all this happen.”

You tapped your cup against his with a soft cheers before taking a sip. He proceeded to give you a detailed explanation of what you would be eating, nearly putting you in a trance. His voice had a hypnotic quality to it, managing to soothe your nerves. Without really noticing, the two of you were leaning forward, the conversation taking on an almost intimate quality – even if the subject matter was anything but. 

Before he touched his food, he encouraged you to try first. He watched you eat, his amber eyes lingering on your lips as you licked them. You had never tasted anything so complex or refined, but knowing it was put together by him made it even more of a delicacy. You let out a pleasured hum, barely holding back from getting another bite.

“My compliments to the chef,” you said, taking another sip of wine instead. “It’s almost enough to convince me to eat anything you cook.”

He chuckled. “Oh, if we were not within these four walls, I would have made a whole feast just for you. I’m sure Frederick has told you of my dinner parties.”

“But then it’s likely we wouldn’t have met outside these walls,” you said, not wanting to talk about Doctor Chilton. “Unless, of course, you frequent this sort of place.”

“I am not unfamiliar, I will give you that,” he said. “But our meeting has been the only good thing about this whole situation, and for that, I am grateful.”

You put a hand on your chest, teasingly pretending to be touched. “How sweet, are you going to quote more Byron for me next?”

He laughed, finally digging into his food. Conversation flowed with surprising ease as you continued to eat. Perhaps it was partly due to the wine, but it also helped that you were eager to listen to his thoughts on things. You were well aware of his intelligence, and it was stimulating to finally talk to someone that had so many layers to uncover.

By the time you got to dessert, he was bold enough to spoon feed you the first bite, awaiting your reaction. The taste was just as amazing, but you were more interested in the gesture. The way he was gazing at you with ardor, kindling your insides – A hunger of a different kind. 

“Tell me something,” he said, clearing his throat. “If it weren’t for Frederick, would you have accepted an invitation to dine with me?”

“Depends, if you’d played your cards right, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it would’ve been possible.” You tilted your head to one side slightly. “But you’re much too valuable, are you not? They have to keep you happy.”

“You certainly have.” 

You let out a huff of amusement, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. Briefly, you thought again of all the rumors circulating about the two of you. This time, though, it didn’t really seem to matter all that much anymore. They’ll keep talking anyway, so why not just do whatever the hell I want?

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Do you always manage to get what you want?” 

He shrugged as if he couldn’t help it, making you chuckle. “What’s your secret, hmm? How do you do it?”

“You aren’t able to come any closer, are you?”

“Of course not, Hannibal.” You pretended to scoff. “We’ve got to keep our hands to ourselves, too.”

There was a devilish grin on your face as you slowly got up from your seat. You slipped your shoes off and brought a finger to your lips to indicate silence. It was titillating, truth be told, to be straddling the fine line between reckless abandon and caution. Especially when you were clearly leaning more towards one side.

“Pity,” he said, watching your every move, smile mirroring your own. “I would have liked to whisper it in your ear.”

You slid onto the chair next to him and he turned his body to face you. You looked down at his jumpsuit, locating the zipper, before looking back into his eyes. He slightly dipped his chin in assent, and you reached a hand up to his chest.

“Tell me something else, then,” you said, dragging it down slowly so as not to make much noise. 

“Like what?” he asked, holding his breath as more and more of his body was revealed. 

His blood was quickly flowing south, the consequences of this becoming apparent as the zipper reached the end of the line. Your mouth fell open in both surprise and eagerness, exhaling a shuddery breath. He kept his hands off as you carefully eased his erection out of his underwear, fingertips brushing the velvety underside.  

“Anything at all,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you? I want to hear your ideas on love.”

You stood up and slid your panties down your legs without lifting your dress too much. You watched him swallow hard as you sat back down, letting the fabric fall on his lap.

“For the mess,” you whispered in his ear, your body pressed close to his. “And a little souvenir for you to keep after.”

He nodded, spine straightening as you planted a kiss just beneath his earlobe. You held his gaze as you spat in the palm of your hand and reached down to curl your fingers around his shaft. His hips immediately bucked into your grip, and you heard him suck in a breath.

“Love, hmm?” He cleared his throat. “You want to know what makes me tick?”

“Absolutely,” you purred, hand moving up and down slowly, wrist flicking slightly when you reached the tip. “Though I may already have a few ideas...”

As much as you wanted to tease him, elongating his pleasure, you didn’t have much time to spare. Your faces were close together, but you fought off the urge to kiss him. His breathing became more labored as your hand continued its rhythmic movements, the heady scent of you – and of your arousal – enveloping him.

He’d had his fantasies about you on many late nights, but your actual touch was another thing entirely, better than what he could have imagined. And knowing he was affecting you in the same way… the chain of his handcuff rattled against the table a little as he strained, trying his hardest not to touch you back. He would want you to be loud, anyway, and that was not an option there.

“W-well, I certainly like to be surprised,” he said haltingly. “And I admire boldness. But to love in itself is a bold a-action, wouldn’t you agree?

“I wouldn’t know much about that,” you said, slicking his pre-cum around the head of his cock with your thumb. “But I do know how to be a lover.”

The light graze of your teeth on his earlobe made his body jerk, his cock pulsing in your hand. You picked up the pace, his chest heaving as his hips almost involuntarily rocked to meet each stroke. Your lips moved to his jaw and down to his neck, and you listened to him babble about something else, trying to fill in the silence. 

Your attention was on his body’s reactions and you could tell he was dangerously close to the edge.  You silently warned him not to stop talking as his cock began to twitch, and you had only seconds before you quickly had to cover your hand with your discarded panties. He bit his bottom lip as he spilled all over the fabric, little noises of pleasure stuck in his throat, one hand gripping your arm. 

You smiled against his skin, lavishing his neck with some more attention as he faintly sighed your name. And when he was done riding out his high, you turned his face towards you and planted a small kiss on his lips as if to reward him. 

He was panting, still lost in the dizzying aftershocks of his orgasm, but you helped clean him up some and zipped his jumpsuit back up, your panties still hidden within. You glanced down at your watch, seeing you only had twenty minutes left. 

You slipped back to your side of the table as if nothing was amiss, but the devious glint in your eyes was undeniable. He was lost and he knew it, already wanting – no, needing – more. So much more. Luckily, it was as you had said; He’d always been good at getting what he wanted.

“I’ve had a really good time tonight, Hannibal,” you sighed contentedly, already aware you would be carrying this with you for the rest of the night. “You sure are good company.”

“As are you,” he said, his voice calmer, though something was lurking underneath. “Perhaps… we might arrange for it to happen soon.”

A thrill danced over your skin at the prospect of it. “Perhaps. Only if you’re on your best behavior.”

------

[hp-hcs]

mattheo riddle if you beat the shit out of him in a fistfight <3 — mattheo riddle x gn! reader

Requests open

implied Slytherin (non-pureblood reader)

tws: violence… duh

OOC. LIKE AS OOC AS IS POSSIBLE. i am so sorry for whatever this is 💀 i’m like, borderline delirious kind of sick, so that’s my excuse ig 😌

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

homeboy is not doing fine

his bruised ego 😔

he’d been teasing you for years with his group of lackeys, and you just snapped

he made a comment that went too far about your blood status, talking shit about your family

you just dropped your shit, spun around, and decked that mf

obviously he wasn’t fuckin expecting that, so he just kinda froze like 👊💥😳🧍‍♂️

he has no idea what to do

((he’s also just a little bit turned on bc manwhore duh))

everybody in the hallway freezes too like,

“you dumb bitch the fuck are you doing??”

his friends are jeering, and he just kind of shakes his head like a goddamn etch-a-sketch and like, gently shoves you back by your shoulders (cause you cute bae 🩷 he don’t wanna ruin that pretty face of urs <3)

you, on the other hand, are just ready to FUCK someone UP

and if that someone turns out to be the dark lord’s son, c’est la vie

he makes one more lame attempt at a scathing comment and you just fucking TACKLE him

you’re on top of him (not like that you silly little sluts get your mind outta the gutter) in the middle of the hallway just beating the s h i t out of him

homeboy has no idea what to do lmfao

lowkey he’s falling in love just from your knuckles smashing his face in (masochist manwhore)

he def thinks it’s hot as fuck

one of the professors comes to separate yinz, (probably hooch, cause there ain’t no way she puts up with any shit) and has to fucking DRAG YOU OFF of him

he's got like, a broken nose, a busted lip, a probably-going-to-become-a-black eye, and yk, decimated ego

but he’s just looking at you with those fuckin PUPPY DOG eyes

🥺

congrats, he’s obsessed

he won’t shut up about you for the rest of the day, to his friends, his enemies, madam pomfrey when he’s in the hospital wing…

they're all like “ah. i see the mommy and daddy issues are making an appearance”

when you get out of detention and go back to the common room, he LEAPS off of the couch and over to you

you’re standing there with still-bloody knuckles and a try me, i dare you face

he apologizes profusely, like, to a kind of pathetic extent

you’re like “dude, you’re not pureblood either, dipshit”

he got called out 😔

you apologize for OvErReAcTiNg (you had to apologize as part of your detention & punishment lmfao) and getting ‘unnecessarily violent’

and cause manwhore he’s just like “oh no it’s fine that was hot”

y/n: 😶🤨🫠

he’s got a lil giggle ✨

literal heart eyes for you

so ur like “yeah i gotta mess with this guy even more”

you kiss his cheek and make his brain stop working

baby is bluescreening rn

he then ends up shadowing you for the rest of the week, following a half-step behind you wherever you go like a lil puppy

(i’m of the opinion that he’s just a slightly more violent golden retriever white boy)

((i’m not saying himbo but himbo))

walk him like a dog, sis

alexa, play lovefool by the cardigans

he’s ur bitch now, enjoy <3

[atlasscrumpit]

Here's an idea… The reader and Bucky are in a closed psychiatric ward.

The Ward

You laid in your bed at the hospital staring at the picture of a baby duck on the wall.

"The fuck are you smiling at." You muttered, you hadn't slept all night so being grumpy was to be expected.

The door opened and you looked up to see one of the doctors.

"Good morning, Y/N. You ready for breakfast, Hun?" She asked as you sat up and groaned.

"I need coffee." You muttered making her chuckle.

"There's plenty of coffee, come on." She said as you put your shoes on and left your room, following the doctor down the hallway, smelling the fresh breakfast cooking.

When you entered you found your only friend and walked up to him to get breakfast as well.

"Hey, Barnes." You muttered as he grumbled and nodded his head a little.

He wasn't exactly the talking type.

You both got a tray of food before sitting at your regular spot by the window.

"I slept like shit last night." You muttered as he ate his breakfast and just nodded a little.

"How's the paranoia?" You asked as he rolled his eyes.

"They gave me new medication... I still know the truth though, so that means my paranoia isn't real and what I see is." He said as you nodded a little.

"Well, maybe you need to give the medication some time to work." You replied as he glared at you.

"You sound just like the doctors." He grumbled before he continued to eat.

"I heard Steve was coming to visit this week, that'll be good." You said, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah... I have missed him actually." He muttered as you smiled softly.

"I'm excited to see him again, he's always so nice to me." You said as Bucky smiled a little.

"It's because he feels sorry for you, by the way." He said as you glared at him.

"You suck. Eat your damn bacon."

--

You sat in the main room sketching like usual, you leant against Bucky where he was on the couch watching tv.

The front door was opened by the doctors and you saw Steve entering with his wife, Peggy.

Bucky looked up and for a moment you could see a streak of jealously, you always had a feeling he liked Steve more than a friend.

"Hey, punk!" Steve said, rushing in to give Bucky a hug.

Bucky hugged him, holding onto him for as long as he could.

You glanced up every now and then from your sketchbook. Steve and Bucky sat together to talk as Peggy sat next to you.

"Hello, Y/N. How have things been?" She asked as you smiled softly.

"Not too bad." You muttered in response as Peggy glanced at Bucky and Steve.

"So... How's thing with you and Bucky?" She asked, turning back to you.

"Good, he's my closest friend in here and maybe out there too. He's the only one in here that doesn't care about my past...cause his is kind of worse." You muttered as she chuckled softly and nodded.

"I like Bucky... But, he's still lost in...an old love." You whispered glancing at him and Steve.

"Yeah, I know he's in love with Steve." Peggy muttered as you nodded.

"He's still convinced he's in the wrong universe. None of the medications work on him, he still thinks that this is some crazy simulation and he's a hero or villain or something?" You muttered as Peggy listened.

"Yeah... Steve told me he had a pretty bad episode last time he visited. Screaming about avengers or something." She replied, sadly.

The day dragged on and you continued to sketch while everyone spoke to their visitors, no one ever visited you, but you didn't really think much of it.

You were glad when everyone left and you could finally talk to Bucky again, once Steve had left he just stayed sitting at the table staring down.

You went over to him and sat across from him.

"Hey, how'd it go?" You asked, you could see he was deep in thought.

"They've got to him now too..." He whispered as you looked at him with worry.

"Buck... Do you think maybe it's time you had your medicine?" You asked in a soft tone before he slammed his fist on the table, altering everyone.

"You're apart of this, aren't you!? I can see right fucking through you!" He shouted lunging across the table and tackling you to the ground, he wrapped his hand around your throat as you looked up at him in fear.

Thankfully three nurses ran over and sedated him as you scurried away and caught your breath.

One of the nurses knelt beside you.

"Deep breaths, it's okay." She whispered, gently rubbing your shoulder.

You glanced over at Bucky on the floor unconscious.

"Will he be okay?" You muttered as the nurse offered you a reassuring smile.

"Yes, he just needs time to calm down. Why don't you go back to drawing before dinner?" She said as you returned her friendly smile and nodded.

--

You laid awake at night listening to the screams coming down the hallway, you knew it was Bucky in the isolation room.

You got up and slowly walked down the hallway to see nurses standing at the door to isolation.

"Y/N, it's okay. Head back to bed, okay?" The nurse said as you looked at him.

"I'm worried about him." You whispered as he sighed, he began to lead you back to your room.

"I know, Y/N. But, he's in the best care, okay? I know it's scary to listen to, but he isn't being hurt, he's just in a bad way right now." He said as you went back into your room.

"You promise you'll take care of him?" You muttered as he smiled.

"I promise, Y/N." He replied as you smiled.

You were about to turn around to go back to bed when everything paused...even the nurse in front of you.

"Hello?" You muttered walking up to him, suddenly it was as if he glitched and then disappeared into thin air.

You panicked and quickly sat on your bed and closed your eyes.

"It's not real, it's not real." You whispered over and over again.

The world around you began to disappear as you cried and started running down the hallway again.

"Bucky!" You scream the door to isolation disappeared as Bucky stood there staring at you.

"What's happening!?" You shouted in fear, he looked at you in shock, how only realising you were seeing the same thing he was.

He rushed forward and grabbed your hand.

"It's okay... It's okay, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I hurt you." He shouted, everything becoming loud as thing disappeared, you leapt forward and held onto Bucky. He wrapped his arms around you tightly in return.

You held onto Bucky as tight as you could, crying in fear when suddenly it all stopped, you pulled away and looked around to see you were standing in a black void.

"Y/N!" You heard a voice shout as you both looked around.

"What's happening?" You whispered as Bucky began to fade away.

"No! No, Bucky!" You screamed trying to grab him before he completely disappeared.

Suddenly you stood alone in the dark, scared as you cried, you looked down and your hands began to disappear.

"It's not real... It's not real." You whispered, sobbing your eyes out before everything went black.

--

You woke up with a gasp, feeling things attached to you as you panted and looked around to see you were in a hospital.

Was it just a dream or an episode you had?

"Bucky!" You screamed out before someone came rushing in.

"Y/N, it's okay. You're okay." He said as you looked up at him in confusion, your memory began to unblur as your eyes widened.

"Tony..." You whispered as he smiled.

"Yeah, yes that's me. Jesus, you scared us... Bucky is okay, he's in the other room." He said as you nodded a little and sat up slowly.

"What happened..." You whispered as Tony sat beside you and sighed.

"We were fighting against these weird ass aliens, we thought we took them down but, we found you and Bucky unconscious. You had been injected with some kind of venom and it trapped you inside your own mind." He said as you rubbed your head.

"How long were we out?" You asked as he looked at you sadly.

"It's been four months." He said as you stared forward trying to take in all of this information.

"It's going to take a while to get used to this again..." You whispered as Tony smiled sadly.

You heard a noise and looked up to see Bucky.

"Steve caught me up... So, in conclusion I was right the entire time and you weren't." He said as you laughed and shook your head.

"You fucking suck."

[drinkumoo]

A Nurse's Recount of the Past [3]

In which a ex-nurse is tasked to figure out a sleep-walking problem alongside a stray cat.

[ the apothecary diaries x gn reader ]

[1] [2] [3]

author's notes are at the bottom, no warnings today

Amber rays streamed through the windows, the dust being highlighted by the light. Brushstrokes hit the parchment as the servants bustled around the hallway outside. Porcelain, glass, and silk flowers fill the shelves, impeccably dusted off. Mahogany creaks as the occupier of the seat leans back. Footsteps fill the room cautiously, like a rabbit entering a wolf's den. The hand writing on the scroll pauses as a servant enters the room.

“Sir, I have your latest financial report,” the servant begins to speak, gently placing each fresh scroll onto the desk, “but I assume that’s of no interest to you.” 

The man sitting at the desk raises his head, staring into the eyes of the servant. His presence was like that of a predator. Unnerving, cold, masked in a cloud of stoicism. Only a slight nod is the servant’s only tell of the master’s response. 

With an awkward clearing of their throat, they continue. “The physician has sent a report regarding the heron.” 

That managed to catch the lord of the estate’s attention. His eyes harden, a simple wordless answer. Continue, his sharpened eyes seemed to speak for him. 

“They seem to have changed overnight; they’re now more active in the medical wing. The spark they once held as a child has seemed to return before Mada–” the servant’s words are quickly shut down by the gruff voice of the master of the house.

“That is enough, Liaoshu. It seems it is time to call my little heron back into their sanctuary.” 

—

When you woke up this morning, a cold wind went down your spine. A stiff groan leaves your lips as you dive back under the sheets. It’s been about a month since the powder incident. A mild cough has already made its way to your throat after trying to confiscate all the containers alongside assigned eunuchs. Some woman even threw her powder puff at you when you tried to take the contraband. 

You sit up, glancing at the room around you. It’s simple, yet the floor space is bigger than your previous bedroom in your old apartment. A square window sits above the bedspace, with papers tacked on the paper-like walls with acupuncture pins. Rough sketches of the human body that are labelled fill the wall space like some sort of creepy wallpaper. A dark wooden desk sits off at a faraway corner, the tabletop filled with stained ink blots and crumbled up pages. You look down, staring at the blanket that covers your legs. Fur, presumably from a bear. While you did not ask Guen about it, his own bed did not have such a luxury. Figuring it was something owned by the previous owner of the body you currently inhibit, you brush it off to the side. 

Thinking back to your old apartment, thoughts of  your old life fill your head. About the hospital, the old payne’s gray walls alongside that ugly beige tiling. The backhanded praise from your superiors. The shouts from patients refusing to cooperate. The grueling work hours you cannot fathom working now. Yet the technology was miles away from what they had here in the Li dynasty. The ability to have blood transfusions for the injured. Machines that tracked the statistical health of patients down to a nano-decimal. The bittersweet comfort of the awareness of survival. None of those exist here. Life and death is no longer a determined percentile, but an estimate only determined by what the gods deem a worthy fighting effort. 

Your apartment, a studio loft that pardon your language sucked literal balls. A tiny little box that was somehow enough to sustain the life of a single human being. You’d argue your previous living arrangement was comparable to a prison sentence that you unfortunately paid for. Smog would fill your dingy little home, causing you to wake up in a fit of coughs every morning. One of the only perks of being a nurse is that people wouldn’t stare when you wore a mask twenty-four seven. 

 While you miss it to an extent, the fresh untainted air of the past is a far more comforting one

The air here was clean, only filled with the scents of incense and herbs. People didn’t have the internet to escape reality to, so the only option to speak with one another at a close distance was socializing. The quality of goods were actually entirely determined by cost, and not as softened by brand. Things had to actually be quality in order to survive the day to day of a regular citizen. The stress of the outside world was non-existent for the inhabitants in this timeline, for only you knew of the events going on outside of the region and in the future. Hell, even your body in this era is far healthier. No smoker’s cough, you actually had some light muscle, and your stamina put your old body to shame! Yet, something nagged at you, much like the coils of the unavoidable polluted air of the future. 

Huuyren. Your only friend when you weren’t aware reincarnation existed. 

He sat by your side through everything. Mostly, everything. You two met in high school when he was the dumb hot jock while you were stereotyped into being a shut-in (not like everyone was wrong, per se.) When you suffered through debilitating exhaustion, he made sure you were taken care of. In his own care, of course, he’d known how much you distrusted hospitals after working in one for so long no matter how much he urged you. You can almost hear his voice still nagging in your ears. 

“Babes. Go to the ER, I can’t keep caring for you like this!” He’d always scoff out, yet he never failed to be by your side when you were bedridden. He rarely called you by name, only by corny pet names he’d learned from western media. “Why do you keep working at that shitty hospital? I can get you a job at Xiangzhou Medical!” 

“You know I’d hate you if you did that, right Ren?” You spat out, before coughing harder in your memory. “I want to work for my income, not be given it on a silver platter. Beside’s, I’ve got the best healer a tank could ask for.” 

… You still feel that guilt gnawing at your heart when you think back to him. About his concern for you. Oh, how you hated seeing his crestfallen face. He came from money, yet never did you see him use it on himself beyond basic necessities. It was always on you, when you didn't decline. Out of everything you long for from the future, he is the only thing that could make the pain in your chest stop hurting. Or maybe energy drinks, that too would suffice. 

— 

“Hi, Maomao,” You greet, writing a prescription for a eunuch. Guen is nearby, grinding herbs while two cups of tea sit on a serving tray. She had been properly introduced to Guen and yourself some days ago. You had to hold back from actively making fun of your mentor’s lethal expression towards the younger girl that day.

“Can you check this medicine?” She asks Guen, who hums and heads to the back to go pour her a cup and get some snacks. 

“Something Lady Gokuyou requested?” You speak from your spot, rising up from your slouched position. 

The green-haired girl shakes her head. “Something I prepared myself.” 

Guen soon arrives with a new tray of tea and snacks, but with only one cup. 

You take a pause, sipping at the tea Guen prepared for the two of you initially. You place a hand at your chin, thinking as to what that said medicine could be.

While you thought, Maomao and to some extent Guen examined you closely, the former far more than the latter. 

They kind of look like a dog. Maomao flatly thought out, imagining you with floppy ears like a Shih Tzu. Maybe a sad one.

Guen thought differently, humming internally about your perceived masculine features. They’re so elegant, if they really tried, they could be a court lady..! Well… I prefer them like this.

“May I have some as well?” The voice of Jinshi cut through the placid conversation. Your train of thought breaks as you huff quietly to yourself. 

Guen stands up immediately, rushing to pour Jinshi a cup as well. You stay where you are, sipping your tea while observing the interaction. 

“Good work,” The purple haired eunuch muses towards Maomao. You can practically hear her bones shuddering as she backs away. Ever so quietly, you snort. Jinshi quickly shoots you a tight smile, causing you to shudder and back off as well. 

“It’s the least I could do,” the short girl huffs, and you can imagine cat ears perched up on her head. 

Both you and Maomao observe Jinshi move towards her right, her face becoming somewhat smug. You feel sweat droop from your temple. 

That’s the face of someone not thinking innocently. Wonder what she could be thinking about, given she kind of hates him. 

He lets out a deep sigh, his head propped up against his hand. “Are you thinking inappropriately right now?” 

Guess I was right. You take a sip of your tea to hold back your snickers. 

“Heh, you’re imagining things,” she looks away as you give her an amused glance. She takes notice, sending you a flat glare. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You shrug, but don’t verbally respond. 

Just as Guen walks back in, Jinshi requests him to search for a prescription. While Guen would typically send you to do so, perhaps the praise of Jinshi is enough to convince him to do it himself.

Guen goes off sulking as Maomao asks, “So, what do you really want?” 

“Have you heard of the ghost sightings?” Jinshi prods at the “stray cat”, who looks away but confirms that she has. 

“How about sleepwalking?” He adds, as you straighten up a bit. Sleepwalking? Seems like you weren’t the only one to be intrigued as Maomao perks up. “Sleepwalking?”

“Seems like I got your attention,” His jab at Maomao only gets her to out in frustration while you’re utterly uninvolved. Thank you, at least I–

“You also seem very interested in this, assistant,” So he intentionally didn’t want Guen in this conversation. You observe, but nod. “... I suppose so, Master Jinishi.” 

He hums, suddenly leaning towards Maomao whilst grabbing her shoulder. You only send her a look of pity. “How can it be cured?” 

She manages to flatly reply, “I don’t know. There is no medicine that cures somnambulism.” 

He turns to you, but you share a similar answer, “Not that I know of. In the west, sleepwalking was simply considered a spiritual manifestation.” 

Turning back to Maomao, he continues, “Is there a cure other than medicine or some sort of ritual?” 

“My specialty is medicine,” the green haired apothecary shoves him off. 

When he looks at you, you shrug. “I’m just a doctor’s assistant, anything wack like sleepwalking is out of my league.”

They both glance at you, probably wondering what the hell you just said in English. Oops, forgot. 

Forgetting that can of worms, The purple eunuch begins to hum whilst getting back in her face, “That’s too bad. That’s truly too, too bad.” 

“.... I’ll do my best,” Maomao scoffs.

When he leaves, you let out a sigh laced with playful mockery. “Need a cold towel after that?” 

“I’d need an ice bath,” she retorts in frustration as you let out an amused laugh. 

—

By nightfall, both you and Maomao take opposite directions to investigate. Because of your “masculinity” you go alone while she gets… Gaoshun?! Why couldn’t you look more like a woman! Well actually that would throw a wrench into things, but it should’ve been you! 

Anyways.

You’re by the eastern wall when the sounds of fabric catch your attention. Glancing up, you see a hauntingly beautiful woman dancing. “Woah. Man, this feels like I just walked into a secret quest-line.”

The sounds of footsteps behind you get you to turn. Seeing both Maomao and Gaoshun, you fight off a blush and send them both a silent nod. 

Shortly after, you return back to the medical building. You report the same sighting to that Gaoshun and Maomao reported, before declaring that you were going to log this down into the palace medical records. 

Shortly after, in the dead of night, Guen enters your room with a letter. “An anonymous messenger sent this to you.”

You take the letter, placing it on our desk as you write down the account in both your personal logbook and in the medical record book. “I’ll read it a little bit, thank you.”

—

By morning, both you and Maomao head down to the estate of Lady Fuyou after learning a bit more about her past. Both you and her are peering at the concubine, both your eyes trained on how… typical, she looks. 

 “Mid-ranking concubine, huh?” You speak absent-mindedly, while your body has an unnatural jerk towards your statement. You glance down, raising a brow. Did past me experience something like that?

“She seems pretty normal, completely different when she was dancing on that wall,” Maomao comments, ignoring your confusion raised to your own body. “She seems unassuming.” 

“Reminds me of a cotton rose,” you add on. 

Maomao turns to you in agreement as the two of you back off from Lady Fuyou’s estate. While she goes to report to Lady Gokuyou, you go back to the medical wing to rest. 

It feels like eyes are observing you. While the feeling of being watched is normal in the modern day thanks to all the cameras everywhere, this feels… Personal. You shiver in discomfort, rushing back with more urgency. Their intent is none of your business and not your problem…! 

—

A few days pass. Apparently Lady Fuyou was gifted to her childhood friend; a soldier. She had faked sleepwalking in order to prevent the Emperor from taking notice of her. You weren’t too interested in figuring out any more drama, so that’s probably why you found out so late. 

That letter on your desk has been distracting you for days by now. With trepidation, you pluck it off and open the fine parchment. It’s sealed with a wax seal, a sentiment usually done in the west. It being on a letter in this place and time urks you a little bit. What you found written on it finds a chill down your back.

“Come home next winter, little heron.” 

WAHHHH this is my first time writing an a/n in years

so sorry i took forever i had exams ;;;;;

btw i'll be opening a tag list if you ever want to be notified when i update!! theres also an ask box if you have any questions about my work, or if you're just bored lmfao

[jr-acrux101]

Rebirth - Ch.5 :

Hospitality

Jasper Cullen × OC 《- Chapters

Summary: Jasper comes over to study.

Word count: 3.5k

The treeline blurred as the speed picked up. Aurora’s grip tightened around Jasper’s waist, the heat that should've been exuding from his body was not there. With a final turn, and a long stretch of a road, they arrived at her house, "That was pretty fun, cowboy."

Jasper took the helmet as he followed Aurora, getting off the bike, "Glad you enjoyed it little miss." 

Aurora shook her head, "Come on, also this is a no shoe house hold, so when we get to the door just take them off on the rug." 

Jasper nodded, and the couple walked up to the door. Once they entered and took off their shoes, Aurora called for her grandma, "¡Abuela, estoy en casa! Traje a un compañero de clase de español." 

No answer. 'Odd.'

"Stay right here." Aurora walked down the hallway, to her grandmother's room and found her sleeping. 'She probably stayed up all night again.'

She rushed back to Jasper. "My grandmother is asleep. So if you don't want to stay for dinner, you might be able to sneak out." A deep chuckle escaped him, he nodded at her taking in her beauty. She grabbed his hand, "Come on." Her eyes widened instinctively, she stopped herself from recoiling at his ice cold hand. Ignoring it, she led him up the stairs and down the hall. Whilst she was trying to speed down the hallway like a bullet, trying to ignore the embarrassing pictures of her scattered throughout on the wall. But her speed couldn’t beat that exceptional vampire vision. He saw almost all of them, her pink hair phase, her messed up hair phase trying to cut the pink out, her hospital stays. He hid his smile as he entered her room, there were sketches everywhere. They were polaroids by her bed, of her: friends, beaches, and family members. Her room felt like her. 

"Nice room princess." He admired the jade walls, the soft green pastel throw pillows, and her green and beige bed set.

"Thanks." She grabbed her designated pillows, throwing them on her oval floral rug.

"Come Jaz, let's get this party started." She expressed unenthusiastically. If Jasper had a heart, it would have skipped a beat at her using his nickname.

Jasper stared at her face, she had freckles spread across her nose. Her brown eyes were the color of the tree's when the sunlight hit them. Her hair was short. Her cheeks; chubby, with a tinge of blush. She was everything he was looking for. 

Her eyes darted to his, and his concentration of admiring her was broken. He got his bag and started to get out the assignment. 

The two carried on till 6 pm. Aurora noticed the time, they were almost done. He could come back tomorrow seeing as the two of them had til the next Wednesday to complete it.  

She put the binder to the side, "So cowboy, you staying over for dinner?" 

"Well little lady, as enticing as that sounds, Edward should be back today along with our father, so I'm gonna help my mother."

Aurora nodded understandingly, "Okay let's get you out of here before my grandma notices you and makes you stay." 

They pair got up, as Jasper went to get his bag that was laying against the end of the bed, he saw the stone. Aurora turned to see Jasper frozen, eyes fixed on the orb. “Jaz?”

His gaze stood on the rock as he stood straight, “Do you know what that stone is?”

Aurora furrowed her eyebrows, inching a little closer to him to peer at the stone he mentioned, “No. Why?”

Finally breaking the trance, Jasper looked down to Aurora, “It’s a Jasper stone. It was mine, I lost it in the woods the day we met.”

Eyebrows were raised, “What?”

“Yeah, I got it in- I got it a long time ago.”

“Oh. Do you want it back?”

Jasper’s eye bore unto Aurora’s soul, “Do you like it?”

Aurora returned his earnest gaze,“Very much so.”

He leaned a bit closer, Aurora’s breath hitched, “What do you like about?” He could hear the heartbeat quicken and the blood traveled faster. Jasper’s eyes darted to her neck and then back to her eyes. ‘Control! Control! Control!’ 

Aurora gulped, eyes darting at Jasper’s lips then back to his golden honey eyes, “It’s stuck in time. It’s going to be beautiful forever.” Jasper’s hand hovered over Aurora’s cheek, before gently sweeping the strands of hair that were astray.

The two could be stuck in this moment forever, but alas that was not in the cards for them. Aurora broke the spell that held them captive, she avoided his gaze as she took a small step back. She bit her lip, nervously waiting for Jasper to speak.

Jasper cleared his throat, straightening his posture, “Keep it darlin’. Promise though, you think of me everytime you hold it.”

Aurora bashfully nodded, eyes still trained on the floor. Gathering courage Aurora finally re-met his gaze, “Alright Cowboy, we should sneak you out now before you’re caught.”

 The pair quietly walked down the hall, down the stairs. Aurora peered over the staircase, to the back screen door,and saw smoke. 

"Okay, well, get cowboy, get." 

Jasper quietly chuckled, "Calm down princess, I'm going, I'm going." He got his shoes and put them on.  

As he opened the door as quietly as possible, before crossing the threshold, Jasper turned to Aurora. "Alright princess, I will see you tomorrow." Aurora grabbed his hand as he was about to turn. He was numbingly cold.

"Wait." Jasper froze still. 

"Yeah little miss?" 

She looked up to him, he noticed the light brown spots in her eyes and her long eyelashes. "It was fun, even though it was mostly homework." He nodded, lost in her gaze once again. She went on her tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

He sucked in a breath: he stepped forward. Aurora closed her eyes, and Jasper gently touched her face. Her eyes ever so fluttered at the piercing touch. His lips lightly brushed against her. Aurora leaned a bit more in, Jasper basked in her warmth. He put one hand on her hip while Aurora gently grabbed Jasper's face. 

They slowly pulled apart. Aurora's pupils were blown and Jasper's were pitch black.

'CONTROL. CONTROL. CONTROL.' 

She was beautiful. The said beauty blushed, and shyly looked away, "You should get goin Jaz, wouldn't want to make your mom wait."

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow darlin." He kissed the top of her head and turned away. 

"See you tomorrow Jaz." As Jasper left and drove away, Aurora closed the door. She felt as if she was floating on cloud 9. Said euphoria dropped as Aurora heard a throat clear. 

She froze. 'Of fucking course.' Aurora turned to face her grandma, "So… how much did you see?" 

"Enough." 

"Well. This is very awkward.” 

Silence hung in the air. "Are you going to tell mama?" 

Abuela sighed, "No I am not. But you should soon. And have that boy meet us properly before going around kissing you again."

Aurora fiddled with her hands, "Does that mean he's already on your bad side?"

"He seems like a sweet boy. I just wished he asked to date first." 

"Um… well… about that. We’re not dating."

"He calls you princess?"

"Yeah… because of Princess Aurora."

"He called you darling?"

"He's southern."

"He kissed you."

"You got me there. But… we aren't dating."

"Yet?"

Aurora nodded shyly, "Hopefully, yet." 

"Well he needs to hurry up and grow some balls to ask you out. Then ask us for permission." Aurora laughed and went to hug her grandma. 

"Thanks Abuela."

"Now come on and help me prep, I'm sure your little skinny friend needs some good food in her stomach." The doorbell rang, Aurora glanced at Jacinda, "Speak of the devil."

She went and opened the door, seeing Bella. The girl hurried in, hastily taking off her shoes and rushed to Aurora’s side, "You guys kissed!" 

"Bells! Calm down. How did you even know?" 

"Well uh… I… happened to glance outside and the curtains were open and I saw him kiss you!"

"You were spying on me?"

"No?"

"Very convincing Bells. But yeah we kissed." They grinned at each other. 

"Yes, yes, yes, Aurora found her prince charming. Now hurry up, help me prep and cook."

Bella laughed and Aurora rolled her eyes, but the girls went into the kitchen to help. The evening was spent cooking, cracking jokes, and full of life with the three of them. Bella felt as if this was the missing puzzle piece from her life.

The night crept up on the Flores house, Bella left, excited to talk more about the enigma known as Jasper Hale and Edward Cullen. Amora opened the door slowly and quietly. As she closed the door with a soft click, the hallway light turned on. Jacinda was sitting there doing her sudoku and drinking her coffee. "I'm surprised you didn't stay out til 12." 

Amora rolled her eyes. "Mama, I'm not a teenager no more." 

"And yet here we are." 

She rolled her eyes again. "How was the date, mija?"

"It went pretty good."

"Hmmm."

"How was Aurora and her study partner?" 

Jacinda looked up at her, then back to her sudoku, "You gotta ask her that mija." 

Amora narrowed her eyes. "Alright, I will. But you try to go to sleep, before you're up all night till the sun rises."  Jacinda waved a dismissive hand towards her daughter, and Amora went up stairs to go to sleep.

Friday morning rolled around and Aurora woke up with a smile on her face. She turned her head, sight fixed on the Jasper stone. She replayed that moment in her head and squealed. She went down stairs, where her mother was making coffee. 

"Good morning mama." 

"Hi cariño, good morning. How was yesterday?"

Aurora nervously looked at her, "Well. Actually… um."

"Let me guess,” she gave a fake pensive look, “you two kissed?" 

Silence was in the air again. Aurora's gaze dropped to her shoes, "It was more like a peck?"

"Hmm." Amora stirred her coffee, "Do you like him?"

"Yes."

"Can you handle a relationship and on top of your classes, well maintaining your gpa?"

"Yes." 

Amora exhaled, "Is he nice to you?"

"Very much so." 

“Will you tell him about,” she paused, not knowing how to say the next word.

“I know mama, I will. I wouldn’t be able not to.”

"Okay,” she breathed out a sigh, "Well, when he asks you out, you have permission. Abuela and I still have to meet him though. But you should tell him about Celio."

"Really?" Aurora was excited. “And of course.”

"Yes, really. Now come give me a hug."

Aurora was in her arms in a blur, "Oh my little girl, about to start dating. Then you’ll get married! No, you’re not allowed to."

"Okay calm down."

She faked sobbed, "All grown up." Aurora rolled her eyes.

Her and Bella pulled into school as the bell rang. They rushed out of the car into their respective classes waving bye to each other. Aurora sat next to Jasper, she blushed and he smiled at her. 

"Hey there princess." Aurora's stomach did flips. She felt giddy. 

"Hi." As class started and the teacher droned on, Jasper slowly inched his hand towards Aurora. Halfway through the class, Jasper firmly clasped their hand together. Aurora's heart started to beat faster, and she closed her hand around his. Aurora got used to Jasper’s numbingly cold body temperature. Each class, somehow their hands always found their way together.

When lunch time came, Jasper glanced around and made the surrounding area of people disinterested in them. He checked one more time before he gave her a kiss on the head before they parted their ways. She went towards Bella in the end of the parking lot while Jasper went towards the school entrance where his siblings were. 

Bella looked up from the book, and saw Aurora standing in front of her. 

"Guess what?"

"Chicken butt?"

"Very funny."

"I know I'm a comedian." 

Bella rolled her eyes. She shot a glance at the Cullens before her eyes met Edwards. She moved Aurora to the side of her and scooted them a little backwards, " Haha. No. You know how when I first met Edward and he was like a total dick and like hated me?"

“Sure, vaguely."

Bella lightly tapped Aurora with the book, "Aurora! I'm serious," she emphasized her last word by raising her voice.

Aurora threw her hands in mock surrender," Okay, okay, jeez yes he was an asshat. What about it?"

"All of a sudden after being gone for a week, M.I.A. He is nice to me! Like genuine interest and conversing with me!" 

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"So like some Jekyll and Hyde type thing?"

"That's what it feels like! I feel like I'm going-," a screech was heard from the opposite side of the parking lot. Tyler swerved out of the way from the back car, the black ice made Tyler lose control of the van. Aurora turned to look and pulled Bella closer to the van. They braced to be crushed. Aurora's left arm felt pressure and snap was heard, Bella hand wrist shattered and Aurora's shoulder was dislocated. 

Aurora yelped in pain, as did Bella. Aurora eyes welled up from the tears. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Bella was silently crying and clutching her hand. 

She turned slightly and looked up, Jasper was there and had a big dent. She turned to Bellas direction and saw Edward through tears. 

"Okay darling, I'm going to pop it in place okay?"

Aurora's eyes widened in fear. She shook her head no. Jasper took off his jacket and balled up the sleeve. "Bite this."

"No, no, no. Jasper please no."

He held the sleeve in front of her. She stared at him with bloodshot eyes and tears falling. She took it with her other hand and bit down on the sleeve, "Okay ready?"

She shook her head, "1, 2-" a pop was heard as was her muffled scream.

She breathed heavily. A fresh set of tears falling now. The ambulance appeared. She passed out. Bella calling her name went deaf to her ears. Aurora woke up in a bed. The bright lights did not help her unfocused sight. Her mother was hovering over her, Dr. Cullen put the smelling salt away. 

"Aurora, cariño."

Aurora hummed and closed her eyes. She shifted and pain exploded. "Fucking christ!" 

Amora got closer, "Mi amor don't move too much okay." There was a nod given as she shifted back down.

"Hello Ms. Flores. I am Dr-." 

Aurora's eyes flew open, "How's Bella? And Jasper? And Edward?" 

"I'm right here Aurora. Dr.Cullen just finished patching me up." She turned her head and saw Bella in the bed next to her, a cast on her wrist. 

She sighed in relief. "Okay, okay good." She looked at the young doctor, "I'm sorry, I know I passed out but I didn't know what happened to Bella. Being crushed and then having my shoulder popped back in kinda made the memories fuzzy." 

"No apologies needed Ms. Flores. As I was saying though, your shoulder is in a cast. I was told my son Jasper popped it into place, very well so there's no issues. Just rest, take your medication, and when the time is right do exercises to strengthen it."

Aurora nodded, "Okay. Thank you, and Aurora is fine." 

"We want to monitor you for a few hours and then you're fine to leave later today."

"So she's good to go? No surgery or extra care."

"No like I said Jasper popped it back into place quite fine, the brace is just to help make sure it stays there and give extra support. She'll be given pain management medication, but other than that she's okay. No head trauma, no other breaks. Just her shoulder." 

"Thank you Doctor Cullen. And please thank your son Jasper for us." 

Carlisle nodded. "How is he?" Carlisle turned his attention back to the young girl.

"He's fine, no need to worry." Aurora nodded and dozed off. 

Bella got up to go to the cafeteria, Charlie and Amora were whispering to each other, probably about them. She heard a familiar voice in the hall, "Seriously, both of you!"

"What you rather they had been crushed!" Edward glowered at Rosalie while Jasper huffed.

"Of course not! But Bella already questioned everything and so will Aurora, the two of them are not stupid!" Rosalie growled.

"Okay let's calm down and take this back to my office." Bella flinched when Jasper layed eyes on her, they were cold and murderous. The rest of the Cullen's eyes were on her. Carlisle herded his children to his office while Edward went the opposite way and sought out Bella. 

"Eavesdropping now?"

"What was that? I saw you on the other side of the parking lot and suddenly you're behind me?"

Edward avoided Bella’s gaze, "Yeah, um...I had an adrenaline rush. It's very common. You can Google it." Bella huffed and rolled her eyes.

Aurora woke up an hour later, the pain in her shoulder was still there. Amora, Charlie, and Bella got up when she groaned. She saw the three of them, and gave a weak smile. "Great news everyone, we weren't crushed to death."

Amora eyes watered, "Aurora Evangeline Cordova Flores! This is serious. You and Bella could have died!" 

Aurora gave a sad smile, "But we didn't, we're still here. Still breathing and hearts pumping. So please, I am in pain and am trying to make light of this."

Amora wiped her eyes, "Fine you can crack some jokes." She stressed the word 'some.' She couldn't deal with the almost dying jokes, not again.

Aurora smiled and then grimaced, the pain was pulsating, "When can we go? And when can I get hopped up on more drugs?" 

Charlie laughed as soon as he heard Aurora finish her sentence. Amora shook her head at her incredulous daughter, "Soon cariño. Just relax." The adults left to find the Doctor. 

Bella stood closer to Aurora. "Hey there." 

"Hey there, one of my saviors." Bella chuckled. "I'm serious if you wouldn't have pulled me in closer and to the side..." she trailed off. 

The older girl nodded, not wanting to think about the other possibility. "So was I hallucinating or were Jasper and Edward there? Like they physically stopped the car and left dents?"

Bella's eyes widened," Yes!" She excitedly whispered. "No one believes me, say that they came afterwards to help you but I knew I saw them! Plus I overheard them talking about us questioning them, and then Edward said no one would believe us!" This was too much for Aurora to handle. 

"So they saved us and regret it or what?" 

"I don't know, but there is something off."

"Oh yeah for sure. We're gonna find out Bells." Bella nodded. 

Aurora went home around 8 pm. They grabbed pizza on the way home, Bella and Charlie came over after both girls pleaded for Bella to spend the night since it was the weekend. The two almost died so it was hard to say no. 

Jacinda jumped and rushed to the door hearing the car in the driveway. She saw her grand-daughter in a shoulder cast and her little friend with a wrist. 

"Oh pobrecitas. Ven, vamos a meterte dentro." 

She waved them to the couch. Amora helped Aurora take off her shoes and helped her to the couch, Charlie did the same for Bella. Jacinda brought the girl some albondiga soup, "Here Charlie and Amora help feed these kids. I added beef bone broth and chicken bone broth to it. You have to start early with healing." 

The girls filled up on the soup, feeling the warmth spread through their body. "Thank you Ms. Flores, this was really good." 

"You're welcome cariño. Now you and Aurora rest and watch some tv." She got the plates and put them in the sink. She went to her room and grabbed 2 extra blankets, and hurried back to the other room, "Here stay warm." The two teenage girls thanked Jacinda.

The older three headed to the dining room. "What happened Amora?" Jacinda whispered.

"From what Bella told us, they were right next to Bella’s truck talking, and this kid Tyler, who will by the way get his license suspended, swerved away from a car backing out and almost killed them." Amora nodded to Charlie's retelling.

"The doctor said that Jasper, his son, popped Aurora's shoulder back in place so it should heal no problem. And that Bella's wrist was broken but that too will heal fine. He prescribed pain killers for the girls and check-ups." 

Jacinda nodded. "Okay. Did he say when they should be healed?" 

"About 6-12 weeks or so." Jacinda nodded. The girls were dozing off, as the adults continued to talk, eating the pizza they got on the way home.

Alright guys here is ch. 5!!! I've got this almost done but I have exams so wish me luck as I slowly post :)

[vibratingskull]

The last farewell

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

Tags : Angst/hurt/comfort, physical remission, hospital, reader is disabled

You spend your time in the hospital learning how to walk again when Thrawn visits you with an unexpected demand

FemaleReader x Thrawn

“Another step”, the meddroid proposes its voice echoing in the gymnase. 

You hold down the parallel bar and take another step, unsure. 

You're trembling, searching for your balance on those robotic legs. You're not used to them yet. They feel foreign to you despite connecting to your nervous system. Your muscles are shaking as you relearn how to walk. 

You lost so much. 

“Continue the rehabilitation, you are on the right track!” the droid speaks with what is surely supposed to be coded as excitement in the voice, but it just comes out weird. 

You sit on your wheelchair and take out the legs, you still have an immense hill ahead of you. 

You sigh. You're tired. 

“Let's go to your room,” the droid informe stepping forward to push you. 

“No. I'll do it myself,” you decide, waving at him to get out of your way. 

You roll in the hallway, lost in your thoughts. You have so much work ahead of you, so much to reconquer… You're supposed to receive the visit of lower officers but you don't want their pity thrown in your face, you need peace. 

You want peace. 

You arrive at his room. 

You don't get your hopes up, but you can't help it. 

You pass the door… and sigh. 

Vez is still in a coma. 

You roll up to his bed. 

“Hello friend. It is particularly sunny today, you would love to stroll in the garden and sketch some plants.“

He is unresponsive. It's not like a doctor told you he would wake up soon, but it still pains you to see. 

If they have been cruel to you, they have been down right animalistic to Vez. His legs have been cut and he lost both of his lekkus. You're not totally aware of what it entails but you remember the lekkus hold some brain tissues. The docs say he will not have long term brain damages but you doubt he will see it that way. What they took was irreplaceable and you're afraid of his reaction. 

For now he's sleeping peacefully as you were, unaware of his body's damages. Like you his brain puts him in a deep sleep to prevent him from damaging his psyche, docs say he will wake up when the brain will have finished processing what happened but he can still hear around him and feel some sensations. So you come here everyday to talk, to vent, to speak of everything and nothing, trying to put him at ease the best you can. You take his hands, caress his forehead, his cheek, you tell him tales of Ryloth and your own planet, anything you could think about. After the Chimaera left you both at a military hospital you observed these habits religiously. Thrawn wanted first to put Vez in a civil hospital but you refused and fought him on that until he surrendered. You wanted to be here when your friend woke up. 

“I'm making progress with the legs, I thought they would be heavier but once they have been connected to your nervous system they are so light.“

Your hand reaches for the metallic apparatus they jabbed in your spine to control the legs and grazes it lightly.

“We don't stop medical progress,” you say almost to yourself.

You hear his bed neighbor cough, you tilt your head to see if they need help. 

“By the way, yesterday your mom tried to see you. She can't because it's a military hospital but your family is worried about you. I could discuss a bit with her, you're so alike it is fascinating, you caress his cheek, you take his hand and squeeze it. Don't worry, I'll ask Thrawn to put pressure on the direction so she could see you.” 

“A Grand Admiral influence is not supposed to be used as such,” a voice rises behind you. 

You jump in your wheelchair before turning your head to Thrawn, hands clasped behind his back with an interrogative gaze. 

“You scared me,” you chastise him. “How did you know I was here ?” 

“I knew you would not be present at your own meeting with the officers, you were not in the gymnase, it was the only logical option.” 

You nod. Of course. He comes to sit next to you and observe the body of Vez in silence. 

“He did not wake up?” He asks with a soft voice. 

“Not yet,” you shake your head. “The doctors aren't optimistic.“

He nods in silence. 

”Why are you here ?” You inquire. 

He turns towards you with a puzzled look. 

“To give you what you asked me,” he responds like it was obvious. 

You can see the bag he's transporting

“Yes of course, but what are you doing here, on Coruscant ?” 

“I have a martial court about how I supposedly almost destroyed a city to retrieve you.” 

You flush. 

“Didn't you ?” You tease. 

“Absolutely not, each parameter was studied to do the least damage possible, but it was impossible not to deal some damage to the buildings nearby. The arrest of a large slave abductors demanded some sacrifices.” 

He sounds almost angry, but you know better. You hide your smile, it is pretty funny to see Thrawn flounder in politics, it has an innocent and moving side to it. Without thinking about it you take his hand and kiss it. He looks you in the eyes with an unreadable expression. You immediately regret it, maybe he doesn't like physical demonstration of affection in public… 

“Let me escort you to your room,” he says. 

He rises and goes to push your wheelchair, once again you refuse. 

“No, no, no. I can do it. Let me do it.” 

You head towards the room, side by side, he gently adjusts his pace to yours. You advance in silence in the corridors. 

You really hope you didn't cross a line with him… 

You enter, he goes straight to open the window while you maneuver to go to bed. He closes and locks the door and sits on the bed. You look at him with sorry spelled in your eyes. He grasps your hand and caresses it with his thumbs. 

“ I heard you will soon be interrogated by the ISB agents.”

“In three days,” you sigh,” it promises to be hilarious.”

“It is for the good of the Empire.”

“Sure…”

You gulp, in reality you try as much as you can to not think about what happened or you feel yourself overflowed by hate, anger and sorrow. 

It’s eating you alive, terrifying you. You may or may have not exaggerated certain symptoms to get a higher dosage of the drugs to get high and forget. You don’t brag about it to Thrawn, obviously.

“ The date of the trial have been chosen,” he continues

You dig your nails in the sheet.

“Okay…”

Thrawn already explained to you how Nather was surprised by the flash operation, how him and his goons fighted in each rooms, how much lives he took, how he almost made the entire structure collapse on itself with everyone under it when he realized he was trapped but was swiftly disarmed by a precise shot of one of the Stormtroopers. Now he remains silent, surrounded by his army of lawyers in the prisons of the Empire, he refuses to give any intel or names to the ISB agents, hiding behind his pride and his fan. As a prominent Governor he doesn't get the rough treatment, but they are not nice to him either, he holds on surprisingly well. 

You’re not ecstatic at the idea of seeing him again, even in the perspective of his own trial. You’re happy justice will be served, but you don’t know how you’ll react in his present. Will you burst into tears or try to kill him on the spot? Maybe you will go into a deafening torpor and dissociate completely from your body. You don’t know… for now the simple idea of seeing him again makes you sick. 

Thrawn puts your hand to his lips and kisses it delicately. 

“I know it is painful and uncomfortable, but it must be done, he tries to comfort you, be strong.”

You gulp.

“ … Will you be with me?”

“ I have to give my own testimony, so yes. I will be at your side.”

You feel relieved to hear that, knowing that you won’t be alone in this trial alleviate the pain and ease the knot in your stomach.

Thrawn reaches for the bag, changing the difficult subject

“I brought you what you asked for.”

You take it to verify what it holds. You found your purse, the key to your apartment, some holos, your personal datapad… You thank him with a heartfelt smile. He nods with a serious face. 

“There is also an important matter I wish to discuss with you,” he says with the most stern face. 

“Okay ?” 

You brace yourself, he looks a bit tense and that scares you. What could possibly put him in this state ? Are you both suspected in the affair? Did you do something wrong? Outside of getting yourself imprisoned like a damn rookie. Is he gonna criticize your tactical decisions on that day? Is he entangled in problems after helping you out? Did they criticize him for engaging in armed conflicts while on supposed vacation. Come to think of it, he surely didn't take any vacations and planned this from the beginning. 

You look at him ready for any slap across the face, but he manages to surprise you. 

“(Y/n), would you live with me?” 

The air is punched out of your lungs and you can't think straight during three seconds 

“ Would I… What ?” 

By reflex you retract your hand from his and pull the sheet over yourself. 

“Would you live with me?” 

“Yes, I heard the first-I mean… Urgh... Why ?” 

He holds his chin like he is gathering arguments. 

“I do not think you will be able to keep the apartment Governor Satlove is paying for you.” 

You tried to push that thought away so many times, but he's right, unfortunately. 

“And I am already living in the apartment you rent me, I think we should try.”

Well, you didn’t see him as that keen but it looks like you were wrong. And you can’t help a snarky remark.

“ Isn’t it just an adroit ploy to stop paying me your rent?” You grin.

“ No, I am serious, I think we can both benefit from that idea.”

“ I know. It’s a joke. I was joking.”

He looks like he’s computing the info. 

You munch on your lower lip, feeling like a little girl. You giggle, squirming on the bed like a child. 

You never lived with one of your… partners? 

“It seemed to me like a good solution, but I understand you would not appreciate the idea,” he tempers.

“No, no, no! It’s a good idea! It’s just… It’s so sudden.”

“ I figured that is what people like us tend to do.”

“ And what “people like us” are?” You ask.

He seems to think about it.

“Ch'an'ecivon'ot.”

“I have no idea what that means.” You smile wryly

“In basic you would say…” He caresses your hand with the tip of his fingers “Soulmates.”

You freeze again, processing the info.

“That is what we are then?” you ask breathlessly. “Isn’t it a tad dramatic?”

“You think?” He smiles lightly “I thought about us and I liked how that sounded.”

He seems to notice your reluctance.

“I shocked you.”

“No? No, no,no” You try and temper “It’s just that you're coming out really strong and serious and…”

“Yes, I am serious. I am serious about our relationship. Are you not?”

“I… Didn’t have time to properly think about it.” You admit.

He gauges you up and down.

“Do you love me?” he asks bluntly.

You're so taken aback, being cornered like that. Your mouth and throat are dry, you open your lips to speak but nothing comes out.

You love him.

You do, oh yes you do.

But you never worded it, and even less spoke it out loud.

He seems to relax and smile sadly at your discomfited expression.

“Pardon me. It is wrong of me to ask you without telling you first. I should not have put you in a corner like that.” He gently holds your face and kiss your forehead, “Do not fret, cha’cah.”

You slowly relax under his touch.

“Alright, I must go now. I wish you a rapid recovery… “

He seems to hesitate. 

“And come back to me quickly,” he said it so low you almost didn’t hear it.

But you did hear it.

He kisses your forehead and leaves the room.

You look in your purse if he didn’t put your comlink in, but find something else. With a raised eyebrow you take out the envelope simply signed with “Eli”. You completely forgot about that. You never took the time to read the last letter your friend left for you.  You open it carefully, taking ou the folded sheet of paper.

“ (Y/n), I hope this letter finds you better than when I left. I must leave to help Thrawn, but I trust we will see each other again, if you stay by his side it is bound to happen, I am sure. Do not leave his side, it is the most secure place in all the galaxy, and I have reason to think you are not safe. I had the occasion to speak with Governor Satlove alone, and this man sent shivers down my spine, I see nothing behind his eyes but a black void. I do not trust this man (Y/n) and so should you, something is not right with him. He made some inappropriate advances and tried to convert me to his church without my interest. I pushed him back but he insisted. There is something about him downright animalistic and uncivilized despite the dignity he drapes himself in. I had the occasion to speak about it with Thrawn and he agreed with me. Do not refuse the help of a friend, and accept my warning. I picked upon your disdain towards me recently, and even though I don’t know why I want you safe. If I ever did something to anger you, know that I am truly sorry. I wish I could tell you face to face, but I have to go. 

Farewell my friend, I hope to see you under better auspices.

Eli.”

This time tears roll down freely, your body is shaken by sobs, your hands holding the letter tremble erratically. 

“Eli… Oh Eli…” You cry.

How could you? How could you doubt him? Your own friend. But maybe you don’t deserve to call him friend after how you treated him. You hold the letter against your heart. He never deceived you, it’s all Nather’s fault, isolating you more and more, until you had no friend remaining. But he couldn’t get rid of Thrawn and Eli completely. And he won’t be able anymore…

“Hey, girl! How are you feeling?”

You raise your head in surprise, an overjoyed Karyn is here but her expression changes immediately when she sees you crying. She immediately sits on the bed and takes your hand.

“What’s happening (Y/n)?”

“Eli… Eli…“ You can’t formulate a proper sentence.

She takes you in her arms and cradles you.

”We will find him. I promise,” she assures.

She doesn't know the truth, and it is not your place to reveal it. So you just hug her back, squeezing her in your arm, appreciating the warmth of a friend.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

[shadowjax]

This Unruly Heart pt.3

Cassandra Vole x M/C, Cassandra Vole x Reader AO3 Summary: Should I stay or should I go? dun nuh nuh A/n: New season yipeeeeeee. Also, a new Abigail look, pop off. Shares are appreciated 1.2k words Divider by: @saradika-graphics

The world slows while Cassandra watches you succumb to the sickness, finding the sight disturbing. She isn’t sure what she’s feeling—perhaps fear. It’s been so long since she last allowed herself to feel it that she’s forgotten what it’s like. Now, faced with it, she doesn’t know how to express it. Something inside her started to fall apart the moment she saw the desperation in your eyes made her stomach drop so she pulled away. Unable to comprehend what you just confessed, how could someone so kind and selfish ever love someone like her?

The walls she spent so long building crumble, there is an ache in her chest, and she feels a pit in her stomach. In the distance she hears the sound of footsteps approaching, quickly whipping a tear that had fallen. 

A scream makes her turn to the student at the end of the hall, “Cassandra?! Is that blood?” The young student slowly walks over to see you fallen to the ground surrounded by petals and blood. The student’s face turns pale and after her curiosity settles she begins to run in the other direction shouting, “Professor!” 

Soon the hallway becomes crowded with students and professors. She remains still as others gather around you to take you to the hospital wing. Your friends approach their concerned expressions causing a slight twisting in her chest. Her mind is elsewhere while they ask her questions she refuses to answer. 

Daniel and Ivy approached her, worry on both their faces. "Cassandra, what happened?" Ivy said in a calm tone.

Daniel had an angry look on his face. "Did you do something?!" he accused. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it in her direction, standing himself between you and her.

"Daniel!" Ivy threw him a scolding look and yanked down his arm.

"C'mon you two, let's get moving," Robyn shouted from the end of the hall.

She lingered in the hallway for a moment, struggling to hold back a sob. 

~~~

This isn’t the end, is it? There is so much more to be discovered. You won a magical tournament, summoned patrons, flew on a broom, and even survived an encounter with a dark wizard. Sure you lost all feeling in your arm and your skin had turned black from the dark magic, leaving an ugly scar. Looking back, ever since you were young you wanted an adventure like the ones in storybooks.  

You try to tune into the conversations around you, but your mind refuses to focus. It doesn't help that your lungs feel clogged with flowers, making it hard to breathe. Any slight movement will send a wave of agonizing pain throughout your body. Keeping your eyes shut, you hope sleep will eventually take over.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Ivy said, her voice edged with desperation.

“We checked the library and found nothing,” Kevin added. Robyn muttered something under her breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

“I spoke with Professor Longbottom, he said he’d do some investigating but hasn’t been around in a few days,” Lottie shoved her notebook aside, too disheartened to even sketch a simple bird by the window. 

Daniel sat in defeat, raking his hands through his autumn hair. “Astrid isn’t here either,” he groaned, “What are we going to do!” 

A pair of heels clicked against the floor as Madame Pomfrey approached the group. “Why don’t you kids give your friend a break? I’m sure you all have classes to be in.” 

The doors opened and Abigail walked towards your bed, “I’ll stay with them, I don’t have classes for a few more hours.” 

One by one, the others left the room, each casting a glance your way. Abigail sat at your bedside, overwhelmed by the sadness hanging over the room. The sound of your shallow breaths unsettled her, raising a deep sense of concern. She suddenly felt useless, remembering how you dropped everything to help her reunite with her father. Throughout the past months, she watched your health slowly deteriorate, unable to do anything about a sickness no one knew. What stood out the most was this floral scent lingering around you. Could it be- Her throughs are cut off by the sound of someone walking near the bed? 

The curtains are pulled to the side, revealing Casandra on the other side. Her head hung low, “I need a moment alone.” Abigail is taken aback by the change in attitude, so used to seeing the other witch so blunt and confident now quiet and closed off. Knowing the two of you needed to talk she stood and walked out of the room. She shot a glance at Cassandra, silently urging her that it was time to be honest with herself.

Cassandra looked at your sleeping form, she cringed at your appearance. She couldn’t stand to hear you struggling to breathe properly. Remembering the shock in your eyes when she pulled her hands back, the scene caused her heart to twist. 

“I thought you were easy to read, it turns out I don’t understand you at all.” You’re so unpredictable and that’s terrifying. She likes to have control in her life and whenever you’re around, you’re able to see past the barriers she built long ago. “How can someone so kind and generous like someone like me? You risked your life for me multiple times. And at the end of the day I… I know that I will never be good enough. No matter how powerful or smart I am. I can never be enough.” If she isn’t the best then what’s the point? “I know I’m selfish but please don’t leave me. I can’t imagine my life without you. I miss your smile. I miss your energy. I want you by my side. And I…” She cupped your cheek and the scar on your cheek with her thumb. 

Hearing her words, you summon the last bit of energy you have by lifting your hand with great effort. You search for the closest thing to grab which ends up being the tie on her uniform. You grip the die as tight as you can, even though your grasp is slipping. Inside you’re screaming for your lips to move, to form words to offer her comfort knowing that you are listening to her. But no sound is made, the silence creating a great disappointment within yourself. 

Cassandra is too stunned to speak, coming back to reality she moved to wrap her hands around yours. Instead, she is too late and your hand falls back onto the bed. Finalizing your last moment, succumbing to death’s embrace. With your final breath, panic surges through Cassandra, tears falling down her face as she lowers herself close to you. She takes a deep breath to fill your lungs with air, repelling the foliage that made a home inside your body. 

Your lungs immediately clear up, and the pain finally leaves your body. A breath of fresh air fills your soul. The weight on your body is lifted and you can feel your energy returning. Finally having the strength to open your eyes you look at her with sadness. Hating to see her cry, you lift a hand and wipe away her tears. This action makes her look back at you, eyes growing wide with surprise. 

“Is it true?” You slowly sit up, taking a few full breaths for the first time in ages. “Every word?” You feel your heart racing in your chest. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” She says gently, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

[ask-the-diamond-kingdom]

Wake Up, Luna

As you return back to the world, you are not greeted by the snowy biome the children [Finn, Haruto, and Nova] were found. In fact, you weren't even greeted with the broken apart kingdom that was the Diamond Kingdom. You are greeted with a dark hallway. Behind you sits a gate that ran up to the top of the ceiling. A single door was seen behind that gate. From there, you can hear the faint sounds of movement, conversation and other things that indicated the sound of life.

However, this is not where your curiosity lies.

Your attention is on the area in front of you. This hall was filled with only a few doors. All of which were locked behind passcodes and keycards. There were no labels near these doors or sounds utter that came from these rooms. It gave a whole aura of mystery as to what purposes these rooms had. Nonetheless, you find yourself moving forward. You couldn't help but note how clean this place was. It was that smell you get from a hospital that was routinely cleaned to the point that was almost slightly overwhelming. The conditions of the floor matched that, though there was slight horrifying fact of the claw marks that were found on parts of the floor and even the wall.

Then you saw it.

A single cell at the very end of the hall. There was no guards. No cameras. A concerning fact that makes you wonder the nature of the security of the place, given the Pokémon that were seen within it. In the corner of the room was a Absol. Not just a regular Absol. A Absol that was...mega evolved? The colors of the Pokemon were a inverse of a regular Absol with a purple jewel replacing the marking found on a typical Absol. A black collar was clamped around its neck with a chain embedded into the wall. This Pokemon appeared to be unconscious.

(Sketch by Fireluxray on Tumblr and colored by me)

It wasn't the only Pokémon in the cell. There was also a Gengar with elements of Clefable in its appearance as noted by the familiar curl found on Clefable head and the way its tail was tightly curled. A strange circular marking was seen on its head while its teeth appeared to be much more sharper than a normal Gengar. It also...appeared to be quite catlike in appearance. Bandages were seen covering the right arm of the Pokemon with a black band with a set of numbers on the right.

(Base by MonsterArkham on TH and colored/edited by me)

As you stare at this Pokemon, you can see tips of its fur became bright red as it reached a paw out towards the cell bars and released a powerful Thunderbolt from it. A low hum escaped the bars before suddenly the Gengar screeched as its own attack appeared to be reverse back to it. Yanking its hand back, the Gengar clutched their shaking arm as sparks flickered between it.

"Fuck...why did I use my bandaged arm?" the Pokémon groaned as the tips of their fur went back to normal. Nursing their arm, they lifted their gaze up to notice you. "Who the hell are you? Are you with those bastards?"

[Kaliko is available for questions. Their companion [Haku the Absol] will awaken within 5 posts]

[hauntedjpegcollection]

18. hospital room

wc: 2823 au: ghost hunter au ch: xavier, lark, benji, tino

“Oh, wow. Weren’t kiddin’ were you? He is an asshole.”

Xavier doesn’t immediately answer. He stomps further away from the other exorcists, down a long hallway inside the abandoned hospital. It creaks around him, wind through broken windows whispering. Glass crunches underneath his sneakers (makes him nervous, one of them has a hole in the bottom he’s been ignoring). The energy is depressing and heavy, like a blanket that someone’s evil fucked up Grandma knit for them. It makes all the hair on his arms stand up, the back of his neck tingle. He should be scared—he was scared—but now one of Xavier’s primary emotions takes over instead.

He’s angry. Anger is easy for Xavier. Second nature even.

It seethes between his clenched teeth as he ignores the very prevalent and very painful second emotion that has closed his throat. Unable to answer right away, he stops in a door frame, shoulders heaving. His stomach hurts. His hands shake a bit. He attempts a slow breath in and then out. It’s useless.

Ironic, that.

“Xavier? Love, you alright? C’mon, don’t let that prick get to you.”

The phone tilts in his hand, sending a circle of light skittering across run down, soiled walls. He lifts it, looks down at his screen. Nomi sits at her desk, bulky headphones slung around her neck. The light silhouetting her is all pretty blues and dusky purples, the ambiance of her room clashing with his miserable, grey surroundings. She’s so pale that she takes on those colors making her look like a mermaid. But her pale brown eyes blink, large and pitiful.

Great, now she feels bad for him. It doesn’t do much for the anger or…or the sadness that he can’t entirely ignore. The hurt.

“It’s fine,” Xavier says, although it really isn’t. He swallows down the hard feeling in his throat. He has no other choice than to be fine.

“Want me to put malware on his phone for you? Or—Oh! I could put his number up on some sketch forums. Nothing too bad, promise but, like, annoying. For sure annoying, but nothing illegal, swear.”

It makes him smile, cheeks rounding as Nomi gets closer to her phone, speaking emphatically. He knows the inside of her room, the way she keeps her cell phone propped up on a little stand when she’s at her computer. For a moment, he’s in her bed instead, among the comforting plethora of blankets and stuffed animals that she has. No one hates him there. He’d feel welcomed.

Xavier scrubs a hand over his face, groaning between his teeth, exhaling heavy.

“No.”

“That’s it, babe! Be the bigger person! Well, quite literally, yeah? He, what, comes up to your chin? You’re always the bigger person. Look down on that little prick, Xavier.”

His steps slow. He finds himself in the wide-open lobby they’d started in. It’s derelict, ceiling caved, reception sadly abandoned. Debris litters the floor; papers and fabrics and rodent droppings. The waiting chairs, usually bolted down for safety purposes, are loose and scattered on their sides or broken entirely in half. A hole opens up in the floor, revealing layers of concrete that might be breakable down into a basement. Hospital basement. He shivers. No interest there. The grime is just as bad in the lobby as it is everywhere else, a combination of rain damage and plain old dust.

Xavier contemplates leaving and finding Tino out in the courtyard, where all their supplies are set up and watched over with his hawk like eyes. But it feels like defeat. Like crawling back to an authority figure with his tail tucked between his legs. Makes him feel…pathetic.

“Think your friend’s come ‘round to apologize. Or was it the other one, the blond? Someone behind you, Xavier.”

“Huh?”

The phone swings up, his pale and freckled face glowing under its sickly pale light. In the two-way video call, he can see the littlest square of himself and the figure directly behind his shoulder. It’s too dark and grainy to fully realize features. Impossible to discern between Benji and Lark—and Xavier can’t stomach the idea of pretending that Benji would ever come after him. The figure stands in the hallway, right in front of the double doored entrance to the lobby, the doors crashed inward and strewn on the floor in pieces.

“Lark—c’mon, man, I just wanna be left alone—”

Sneakers squeak on the shattered, tiled floor beneath him as he turns. Xavier’s voice dies before the sentence can end.

No one is there.

The temperature plummets to freezing so fast that it almost burns his exposed skin. Xavier gasps, his breathing puffing misty in front of his face. Hands trembling, he nearly drops the phone—Nomi’s voice skips, crackles, reduces to nothing but frightened static.

“I want to…go home…” A voice kisses his ear, like a clump of snow pressed directly against his skin. Xavier would scream, but he suddenly isn’t entirely in control of himself. Limbs go jerky with terror and he stumbles backward.

“Xa-vi-Wh-at—Are yo—kay?—Vier—Hel—o?”

His phone spits Nomi’s audio, every half second of her voice desperate. Scared.

“Xavier!”

“Lark,” Xavier breathes, swinging his entire body in direction of the voice. Oh, no, he thinks. Oh fuck, don’t come in here. But it’s too little too late, Lark stepping over the threshold into the lobby, his youthful face weary. Resigned to apologize for something he didn’t even say. Xavier feels a strange burst of energy remembering Benji’s nasty sentiments, like the anger rekindles him. Lark’s wary, worried face rekindles him. Xavier drags in another frosty breath.

Then he’s sprinting.

In the opposite direction of Lark.

He runs for the chairs, vaulting over them. Sliding on the gritty tiled floor. Kicking the chairs—making noise. Disrupting. Insulting the spirit’s home. Everything he’d learned to piss them off; notes he’d taken in a little composition book, pencil scratching on the side while Tino lectured. Xavier waves his arms in the air, whistling and yelling. Lark looks startled. Then the expression dissolves into fear, and then unmistakable horror as the spirits apparition flickers into something substantial.

A barely there polaroid, just the ghostly, shuddering image of someone; hospital gown dripping something black and oozing, dirty feet inches above the ground. Arms hung limp at their sides, head lolled like it’s broken. A doll hanging in the air by a cruel child’s pinched fingers at their throat. The temperature plunges once more, Xavier’s eyelashes crusting over with the sudden drop.

“What are you doing?” Lark yells frantically, hands scrambling over himself for supplies. Holy water, crucifix, salt, anything. Coming up empty.

“I—Uh, I think—I think I’m distracting it!” Xavier calls back stupidly. He places fingers into his mouth and whistles, the sound piercing through the derelict lobby and echoing off its crumbling walls. His father had taught him how to whistle like that when he was just a boy. The spirits replying scream shatters what remains of glass in the lobby windows, making Lark and Xavier double over with it, hands clasped over their ears.

And then it descends on him.

—

Lark could never really stay mad at Benji.

He remembers trying, actually. He remembers nasty fights as teenagers where he should have stayed mad for weeks. He remembers them falling to the ground wrestling furiously until Tino was hauling them apart. Snapping at his charges, bewildered where all the nastiness could come from (they were so cute when they were younger, after all, he laments very often).

Lark knows it—the anger, the meanness—is just underneath a notch in Benji’s chest. It’s in Lark’s hands. Cold with it.

But the emotion could never stretch long enough to fester. No wound ever appeared. It never lasted. Never more than a day—sometimes not even an hour. Lark would find himself standing in Benji’s doorway, glaring, arms crossed. His feet carrying them without thought. Muscle memory would toe over the threshold and then they’d share one or two more heated, nasty barbs until it was truly well and over. Until Benji’s accent would make Lark laugh or Lark would wiggle his way close enough that the cold bubble of Benji’s carefully constructed barrier would give. Easy.

Lark could always get past that defense. When they were friends as much as they were sometimes lovers as much as they are recovering that friendship now.

Maybe he was the problem then. Maybe Lark was making things worse because he couldn’t stay mad, and Xavier’s anger was justified. He just thought Benji was easy to understand; he thought Xavier was even easier. He didn’t know why they couldn’t figure it out.

Of course, it seems inconsequential now as he watches Xavier run down a hallway, spirit in tow. More important things to worry about.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Lark squeaks with every pump of his arms. He’s faster than Xavier, no matter how leggy the red head is. If anyone should be martyring themselves to distract a spirit, to get to their Priest, it probably should have been him. But Benji and Xavier, despite fighting like cats and dogs (oil and water, all the metaphors someone could imagine) were so fucking similar. He was going to slam their temples together and make them realize that, if—when—Xavier lived through this.

Lark crashes against a wall around a bend in a hallway, his momentum carrying him straight into a nearly dislocated shoulder. Xavier’s feet slap on the tiled floor. His voice is carrying a high-pitched scream as the walls shred around him—claws. The spirit has claws. And it tears those ghastly things across the plaster, dust pluming into the air. It howls, unearthly and mournful as it chases Xavier, the bright beacon of his overwhelming lifeforce.

“Benji, come outside,” Lark screams into the walkie talkie he’s finally been able to free from his pant pocket.

“Wot?”

“Don’t fucking wot me, come outside—Xavier’s tethered something!”

“Wot?!”

Lark bursts into cold night air behind the spirit. He can feel the weather trailing after them, the condensation of cold they leave behind. The frost that glosses over the glass panes lining up the outside of the hospital. The courtyard’s withering plants burst into icicles.

Then Xavier slips.

Come to think of it, he could never stay mad at Xavier either. Maybe it was a condition of loving someone. Every annoying thing they ever did felt pale in comparison to everything else they also did. Their laughter, their mannerisms so familiar and warm. Lark’s heart bursts inside his ribcage, pouring a sheet of cold down into his stomach as he watches Xavier scramble to his hands and knees.

Then the hood of his sweatshirt lifts. The flickering image of the spirit appears in the air. Its head is no longer creaking unhinged on its chest. It’s lifted instead, it’s entire face nothing but a giant gaping maw of teeth. No—not teeth, but—instruments of medicine—scalpels, rusted and bloodied. A bolt of cold fear pierces Lark’s belly. His knees shiver.

Its inhuman strength gets Xavier (not that heavy to begin with) off the ground.

Arms, or the visage of arms, burst out of Xavier’s chest. He screams at the sight of them, jerky in the phantom’s grasp, legs flailing. They’re long, spindly, crimson, and yet translucent and dripping with ichor. A laugh follows the arms, something so horrifying that the ghost they grab hold of shudders. It’s edges blur. It screams with its head thrown back, the maw opening wider and wider as the crimson hands take hold.

And then, loud, and clear and viciously holy, their Priest’s voice.

“I cast you out.”

Lark watches Tino emerge from under the courtyard pavilion. The clouds don’t part dramatically, moonlight doesn’t spill down upon him, illuminating him like God’s virtuous warrior. And it doesn’t need to. In all black, Tino is similar to the courtyard shadows, and yet his raised crucifix is all he seems to need. The hands outstretched from Xavier’s chest withdraw, slowly, fingernails clicking together in some sort of language that maybe Tino understands.

Of all things, the priest smirks.

And then raises the crucifix once more.

He repeats himself, in Latin.

The weakened spirit dissolves right then and there.

—

“He’s okay, right?” Lark crashes to his knees beside Xavier. He’s gone paler than he has any right to be, when he’s a shade darker than the moon half the time. The boy on the ground groans, arms wrapped around himself protectively, lanky body curling up. He turns onto his side, breathing heavily and deeply. A lock of red hair falls across his brow, sweaty and stringy. Lark is almost afraid to touch him.

“Just needs sleep, m’guessing.” Tino kneels as well, brushing a gloved hand across Xavier’s pale brow. Poor boy turns his head with the movement, a subconscious desire for the attention. Lark’s heart pulses with affection and worry.

“Fucking shit, I miss all the fun?”

Benji emerges, his curls sweat slicked and stuck to his face, belying the nonchalance he fakes. He breathes evenly, but deeply, shoulders rising and falling in an attempt to cover up for the run he’d likely been making from across the hospital. His dark eyes flicker to Xavier on the ground. They linger for a half a beat too long to convince anyone of anything and then skate away to Tino. His brows pinch in.

“Hello? Hello! Someone please tell me I did not just listen to my friend die over facetime? Hello!”

All three of them startle away from Xavier.

“What in the world--?” Tino, who’d only just exorcised a spirit and forced another back into its mortal cage, looks positively puzzled by the sound. Lark reaches to Xavier’s front pocket, noticing a little square of light peeking through the dark green fabric. He withdraws the cell phone, standing up and staring down at the screen. A woman looks back at him, her face close to the camera, pale eyes so wide they’re whiter than they are iris.

“Who are—?”

“Is he alive or not, you fuckin’ dunce?” Her voice is so shrill it makes the speaker crackle.

“Yes!” Lark glances between Benji and Tino. “Yes, he’s—he’s okay, he’s just asleep, he just—”

“Well, good. Have no reason to talk to you lot.” The woman sniffs indignantly, her eyes flickering as if taking the other two faces peering down over the phone in Lark’s hand. “Arseholes.”

The call disconnects.

There is silence in the hospital courtyard, abandoned and a final resting place for an unruly spirit that had nearly tried to kill at least one of them. Silence except for the wind whipping their hair and their clothes and also the occasional small snore from Xavier on the ground. Lark looks between Tino and Benji with giant, confused eyes.

“I don’t make a habit of pissing off pretty ladies,” Tino says dryly. He cuts a look between his two wards. “So, I hope you two ain’t do nothing to her.”

“Don’t even know who she is!”

“Maybe she’s Xavier’s secret girlfriend,” Lark jokes with an uneasy laugh. Benji beside him stiffens considerably, hands at his sides clenching into fists and drawing Tino’s watchful Fatherly eye even harder. He says nothing, but Benji swirls around, stomping away. “Where are you going?”

“Clean up,” he bites out, the words gnashed between his furious teeth. Benji pauses and tosses a hand toward Xavier. “Since someone isn’t gonna be helpin’ out with it, yeah?”

“Dude, harsh.”

Lark watches Benji retreat toward the folding tent that houses their supplies in case of rain. The night hadn’t called for it, but Tino didn’t get where he was (wherever he was, anyway) without being an overly cautious and perhaps slightly anal man with his work. Something uncomfortable settles into Lark’s stomach, as though he’s missed something pivotal. When he looks back, Tino’s already gathered Xavier up into his arms.

“Is he really okay?” Lark finally asks, cradling a hand underneath Xavier’s skull as it rests on Tino’s shoulder. Arms. Red, shiny, horrifying fucking arms, pushing right out his chest, and grabbing hold of a spirit. What is fucking going on, Tino? Nothing he articulates aloud, but his black eyes raise to meet the Priest, who only smiles at him.

“Y’let me worry about it, Daisuke.”

It’s easy then, to let everything fade off his shoulders. He looks down at the ground, scuffing a sneaker. And though it takes some shifting and a great deal of strength, Tino manages to move the young man in his arms to free up a hand to gently pat Lark’s cheek. He watches Tino depart for the van.

Then, feeling like he can’t be mad at Benji, he settles instead for pettiness. Shirks helping close up shop and sits on the stone bench in the courtyard and rests for a moment instead.

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 10 - Dress-Up

Chapter summary: Dook visits Billy Bob and Looney Bird to make his outfit for the band. Billy Bob orders a pizza. Looney Bird gives Dook some advice. A/N:

the space between chapters remains long, but I assure you: I have been cooking chapter 11 is actually also already done! so expect that to be uploaded within a day or two as well. things are about to get very interesting... buckle up!

Chapter word count: 1,177 <- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 -> Read it on AO3!

"Dook!" Billy Bob exclaims as he opens the door. "I'm so glad you're here! Come in, come in!"

Dook shuffles through the doorway of Billy Bob and Looney Bird's house. It's been some time now since Looney Bird offered to help Dook make his costume for the band, but it took Dook until now to actually really accept. He'd told Beach Bear he was going to pick it up today, which shouldn't take too long. As long as he's in and out, Beach Bear won't suspect a thing.

"Make yourself comfortable," Billy Bob says. The house is incredibly lived-in. The decor is like if Billy Bob and Looney Bird's personal styles had an epic battle, with the remains of those fallen scattered around the house. Some of the furniture looks like they just found it in the street and brought it home. None of it is broken, it all just... clashes. Dook sits down on the couch. It's incredibly plush.

"Dook!" A rush of footsteps from down the hallway, and Looney Bird appears in the living room, arms full of fabric and sewing materials. "I've got so many ideas for you! Look–" He dumps everything onto the table in front of them. Among the pile are several pages of crude sketches of outfit designs.

"You're all about space, right?" Looney Bird says.

"Sure am," Dook replies.

"I'm gonna make you into a space man," Looney Bird says, determined.

Dook laughs. "Sure, just–"

"Looney Bird!" Billy Bob calls from the next room over. "Would you come help me with this?"

"Sure thing, Billy Bob!" Looney happily calls back. "Be right back, Dook."

Dook follows Looney Bird into the next room, where Billy Bob is stirring an almost comically large pot over a stove.

"You're making dinner?" Dook says incredulously.

"Yeah!" Billy Bob replies. "You wouldn't be our guest now if we didn't treat ya with some southern hospitality!"

"I mean, that's real nice and all, but I–"

"Looney Bird, come help me with this," Billy says. Dook sighs. He doesn't have time for dinner.

Looney Bird approaches the pot and starts helping Billy Bob lift it and move it toward the table.

"Guys, I really appreciate the thought," Dook starts, "but I ain't exactly got the time f..." Dook's eyes drift toward the table they're moving the pot towards. It's a folding table– and one of the legs is unstable.

"Guys, wait! Don't–!"

The pot lands on the table, and it loses its balance. In the blink of an eye, it falls, spilling stew everywhere. Looney Bird falls too, shrieking as the stew spills onto him.

"Looney!" Billy Bob exclaims, helping him stand up. "Are you alright?"

"Y- yeah," he says, brushing stew off of him. "But my feathers are all stained...! And wet! I can't touch any of the furniture like this!"

"We'll get you cleaned up, don't worry," Billy Bob says. "Dook, could you take Looney Bird to the bathroom? I've got my work cut out for me here."

"Uh... Sure," Dook concedes.

"I'm real sorry," Looney Bird says from the bathtub. "We just wanted to–"

"Show me some 'southern hospitality,' I know," Dook says.

"Yeah," Looney Bird says. "Billy Bob's trying, y'know? We don't get guests too often. I think he's just excited."

Dook says nothing for a while, staring at himself in the sink mirror. "I just wanna get this costume made," he says.

"Sure," Looney says. "And we will, once I'm clean! Which..." Dook hears the faucet turn off. "...Is now!" Looney Bird steps out of the shower, shaking himself dry.

Dook smiles. "Okay, you ready?"

"Sure am," Looney Bird says. The two leave the bathroom together.

Waiting for them in the living room is Billy Bob, who's set out several pizza boxes... which he's made space for by pushing aside everything they'd set up for sewing.

"Hi guys!" He says cheerfully. "I thought since the stew didn't work out, I'd just order us pizza!"

Something twinges in Dook. "I... I don't want pizza," he says.

"Oh! Sure, do you wanna order something else for yourself?" Billy Bob says. He rifles through a drawer next to him and approaches with several takeout menus. "We've got a lot nearby! There's Mexican, Chinese, Thai, burgers, we can–"

"No!" Dook snaps. "I don't want food at all! I didn't come here for southern hospitality, I just wanna get my costume made and go! I can't be wasting time like this!"

"...Dook, I–" Billy Bob starts. Dook turns and re-enters the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He presses his back to the door and sighs, sliding down to the floor. He's being a jerk. He'll apologize, he just... needs a minute to cool off first. Who's wasting time now?

After a minute of sitting there, Dook hears a gentle knock at the door. "Hey, Dook?" It's Looney Bird.

"Yeah," Dook replies.

"Do you, like... wanna talk about it?" He asks.

"...I guess," Dook says. "I just– I guess I'm stressed. I'm tryin' to cover my tracks with this whole situation. I don't want Beach Bear to know I lied. And I guess that's makin' me all uptight."

Looney Bird is quiet for a moment. Then, "You haven't told him?" He asks.

"No," Dook responds. "Why would I?"

"I told Billy Bob."

"Wh-?" Dook turns to face the door. "What do you mean, you told Billy Bob!"

"I mean I told him!" Looney Bird says.

"But what happened to 'we were never here?'"

"I dunno! I didn't think you were being that serious. And I only told Billy Bob, okay? No one else knows."

Dook sighs. "Okay."

"What I'm tryin' to get at is," Looney continues, "when I told him, he was a little mad at me, sure. But we talked about it and we moved on. And he's not mad at me anymore. And I just think... if you told Beach Bear, he might get mad, sure. But he'll be a lot more upset if he finds out what you did and you kept it from him."

Dook stares at the back of the door. He hadn't considered the consequences of not telling him. That if Beach Bear somehow found out about this from someone other than Dook, his trust in him might be broken for good. The thought upsets him more than he'd like to admit.

"...You're right," he says. "I guess I should... I guess I should tell him, then."

"Yeah," Looney Bird says encouragingly. "I think he'll be cool with it anyway. It's Beach Bear! He's cool about everything."

Dook laughs. "Yeah, he is."

"...Do you wanna come out and have some pizza?" Looney asks.

"Yeah," Dook replies. He stands, finally opening the door.

As he returns to the living room, Dook promises to himself two things: that he'll take the rest of this visit in stride, and simply enjoy this time with his friends– and to tell Beach Bear the truth once he gets home. He's kept this all from him for long enough.

He just hopes he hasn't waited too long.