#so the last awful thing i have left to get under control are the dishes. which im gonna try to do tomorrow.

[orcelito]

It is The Time to decide whether I'm extending my lease for next year or not. They're of course increasing rent Again, bc why wouldn't they. With the market price they're quoting, it'll be a 71% rent increase since I moved in here back in 2021. What the fuck do they think this apartment is worth? Fuck outta here.

[rainbow-nerdss]

Water Damage

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 8: Robots & Androids Buck/Eddie (9-1-1), 1k AO3 link

Eddie hates it here. 

It’s his own fucking house, but he hates it.

Ever since that… thing crossed the threshold, thanks to Christopher casually mentioning it in front of Eddie’s folks a year ago, and them deciding it was the perfect thing to surprise him with for Christmas. 

A robot.

A fucking robot. In Eddie’s home.

He hates it here.

He’s lasted a solid five years since the first iteration of these so called “Household Assistants” became mainstream, even though everyone he knew sang their praises, even though Chris had begged for one so he didn’t have to do chores. 

“We’ve gotten along just fine without one all my life, Chris, we don’t need one.”

“But everyone’s got one!” 

It hadn’t worked, even when Chris was seven years old with carefully honed puppy dog eyes, Eddie had resisted. So, naturally, his kid got clever and went over his head.

Eddie hates the fucking thing. It does the work just fine, cleans the dishes before Eddie has a chance to, makes the bed with crisper lines than he’d seen even in the army, it even cooks, though it only has a couple of pre-programmed recipes. 

So, maybe Eddie has taken to sabotaging it, just a little. 

Nothing awful, but he’s “accidentally” left magnets in his bed more than once now, and he’s become much clumsier than normal, his morning coffee spilling just as the robot happens to be passing by.

He just wants it gone. Every time he sees it out of the corner of his eye, the unnatural movements, the subservience, it makes his skin crawl. 

Eddie wants to look after himself. He likes looking after himself.

So, he sabotages the robot. 

Unfortunately, his parents had sprung for a pretty fancy insurance policy, on top of a tight warrantee, which means that every time the robot experiences a malfunction, no matter how small or obviously deliberate, it automatically pings the manufacturer, and they send out a repairman.

The repairman is Eddie’s second problem.

He obviously knows what Eddie is doing, but he refuses to just let the damn thing die. 

The first time he showed up, he stuck his hand out to shake Eddie’s, grinned and introduced himself as Buck, then immediately turned his attention to the robot. “Seems this poor little guy had a run in with some water damage! Let's get you fixed up, huh?”

The next time, it was “A magnet? Damn, buddy, you’ve got the worst luck!”

After that, he’d started shooting Eddie knowing looks. “How did you get spaghetti in there? You’re the most accident prone unit I’ve ever serviced!”

It doesn’t help that Chris has taken a liking to him, actually looking forward to his visit whenever Alfred breaks down — because of course he’s named the damn thing after Batman’s butler.

Chris sits himself at the kitchen table every time Repairman Buck, Eddie’s sworn enemy with unfairly nice arms, is over, and he regales him with stories about school and his friends, all while Buck undoes whatever sabotage Eddie hopes might be the final straw.

“You know, you don’t have to do this, man,” Buck says to him one day, after cleaning dish soap out of Alfred’s control panel.

“Do what?” Eddie answers, trying to look innocent. He does feel a little bad, dragging Buck out here every time. Alfred doesn’t even bother him all that much anymore, since Eddie has started cleaning as he goes, leaving very little for the machine to sweep out from under him. It’s mostly a habit by now, and he can’t say he hates how much Chris seems to enjoy Buck’s visits.

“Cut the poor machine a break, okay? If you wanna see me so much, just ask me out for coffee instead of pouring it on Alfred.”

Eddie turns red. “I don’t— That’s not why I—” 

Buck just grins, folding his arms across his (large, bulging) chest, like he’s just waiting for whatever excuse Eddie will come up with.

Eddie sighs. “Look, it’s— I never wanted Alfred. He entered this house against my will, and I really wish you were worse at your job so I could’ve done away with him a month in.”

Buck’s face fell. “Oh, I— I’m sorry, man, I thought…”

Buck thinks Eddie has been doing all of this for him. He thinks Eddie likes him. And Buck seems… disappointed, to hear that’s not true.

“I should um… I should go. I’ll send the apprentice next time, he’s terrible with water damage.”

Buck starts to leave, and Eddie is frozen, not knowing what to do.

He hears a sizzle behind him, and turns to see Christopher with an empty, upturned glass in his hand. 

Alfred is smoking.

“Buck, wait!” Eddie shouts, running to the front door. 

There’s Buck, just sitting on the top step. He turns, and Eddie drops to sit next to him. 

“You know, it’s the wildest thing — he’s already broken again. Maybe you should come back in and take a look?”

Buck frowns. “It’s—”

“And then maybe… Once Alfred’s up and running, we could get him to set an extra spot at the table for dinner? If you—”

Buck nods. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He stands and they go back inside. 

“Actually,” Buck says, halfway through yet another service. “I should admit something, before I’m done here.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, from where he’s sitting next to Chris, watching Buck work.

“I think these things are absolutely terrible cooks,” Buck says with a grimace.

“Not as bad as dad!” Chris insists. 

Buck laughs. “How about I get him fixed up, then I’ll cook for you.”

“You want to cook for us? After spending so much time working?”

“I like cooking. Besides, you guys are definitely my favourite clients.”

Eddie meets Buck’s eyes, sees the slight hesitation in his expression. He’d been nervous to ask this, Eddie realises. 

“Whatever you want, Buck.”

And he means it. He isn’t even annoyed when Alfred makes his stupid fucking whirring startup sound, because Buck jumps to his feet and asks if he can look around the kitchen. 

“Admit it, dad,” Chris whispers. “You’re kind of glad we got Alfred, aren’t you?”

Eddie messes up his kid’s hair and scoffs, but he can’t deny it.

The annoying robot servant is worth it, for bringing him Buck.

[midday0nightmares]

17 - like normal.

previous chapter changes (m).

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, mental health.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

 After that incident thing have started to change, they sat you down and  they promised changes, you have asked for your own room but since there wasn’t any spare rooms they have agreed to let you use the living room since nobody’s visits them anyway, they have also agreed not to be forceful with you in sexual terms an return you have to cooperate, other than that the same rule still applies, no leaving without permission, no contacting anyone outside this apartment.

One day jeno come back with a gift, a pair of shoes for you, it was a red converse, you were so happy that you leaped in his arms thanking him, jaemin have bought you a mattress and you’ve picked a spot for it in the living room, and after your wound healed and you regained your strength they took you to the store and they let you pick whatever you wanted, pillows, a cute bedside light, shampoo and conditioner, towels, coffee cup, nail polish, makeup, and all the snacks you wanted.. unfortunately the store didn’t sell any clothes but it’s ok, you didn’t mind waiting, you walked out of the store skipping with excitement, you finally started to feel alive, like you actually exist.

When you got back, jaemin helped you arrange your new belongings, he cleared a shelf for you in his bathroom, he arranged them for you, you couldn’t stop smiling all day to the point where your cheeks were sore, jaemin was in an awe with how he could make you this happy with simple things, he couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze you in his arms eliciting a delighted squeal out of you.

Jeno enrolled you in an online collage, after he let you chose what you wanted to major in and paid the full tuition, he got you your textbooks, pens and note pads. in your previous life, you wouldn’t have dreamed of completing your education in due to your family low income. And they didn’t stop here, they got you a gaming console for you when you feel bored, while jeno focused more on the practical side of your needs, jaemin focussed on what would make you happy, he got you pretty pajama sets, fluffy slippers, plushies. 

You filled the bathtub and threw in a vanilla scented bath bomb and you lite your new scented candle, you sat in the warm water enjoying your pampering session, you laid back and sigh in content feeling your muscles relax in warm waters, it took a while before jaemin barged through the door without knocking, your hand came to cover your upper half. “it’s nothing I didn’t see before” he laughed at his insensitive comment but dropped the smile when he noticed your stiff face.you remains silent as he cleared his throat and opened the cabinet, awkwardly looking for something before walking out but he didn’t close the door all the way leaving it slightly open, something about his behavior made you wary so you decided to end your bath and get dressed.

 When you walked out he was laying on his bed mindlessly scrolling through his phone, you went to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, you open the cabinet looking for your brand new cup, you spot it on the highest shelf, you sighed and you stood on you tiptoes stretching your arm as far as you can, you struggle to reach it before you feel a presence behind you, his body pressed against your back side, his hand grabs the cup putting it down on the counter in front of you, he doesn’t move and keeps hovering close to you. “here you go” Jamin whispers in a low voice, involuntary shiver runs down your spine and you move away from him, his actions freaking you out, something about him seems off. 

You avert your gaze back to your cup and continue making your tea, he leans closer to you and sniffs your damp hair, “no thank you?” He asks you but you ignore him taking your hot drink and scramble away from him, your heart’s beating fast, the sweet but creepy gesture confusing you, you’ve never had a boyfriend or any close guys friends so you don’t know what qualify as normal, and what qualify as creepy, you can blame your traumatized perception for the confusion. 

The weekend was spent in peace, other than jaemin’s strange behavior, there’s nothing for you to complain about. 

Jeno suggested to try the new gaming console and challenged you to a game, the loser would have to do the dishes for the day, you agreed with much confidence that you will win, the game begins and your fiery competitiveness flare up, you both shamelessly cheat but you’er still winning before he snatches the controller out of your hands and beats you to the finish line making him the winner of the first round.. you shout at him and wrestle him for the controller while demanding a rematch, but something on his inner forearm catches your attentions, something you never seen before, a tattoo.

 you halt your attack and grab his arm to get a closer look before asking, “you have a tattoo? since when?” You pointed them out, “since always dummy” his eyes disappear behind his cheeks forming small crescents.

the tattoos looked odd, they were three vertical lines with one horizontal line crossing them on his left arm, and on his right arm there was two lines one of them looks recent, you frowned “what do they mean?” He shrugged, your fingers tracing the small lines, they must mean something, they look too plain for it to be decoration ,and they looked purposeful, and unlike jaemin’s interact back tattoos, these look unprofessionally done, adding to jeno’s mystery.

“did you do it yourself?” You realize you were being noisy but he doesn’t seems to mind, he hums. You still curios so you ask “did it hurt?” He pretends to thinks about it before he answer “mm not really, now let me beat your ass again”, you returned to your game this time you managed to win the next round.

After dinner you helped him with dishes, and they went to their rooms after wishing you a good night, you turned off the lights and made yourself comfortable in your mock bed, ready for slumber to take you away to dreamland, your eyes slowly close as the room around you dims until it disappear.

A warm sensation flows though you, your mind focuses on it as it gets warmer and warmer, it localize in one spot, in between your legs, a faint strokes of warmth generating a pool of wetness, the pleasure intensifies and you relaxes your legs to allow the warm strokes to reach deeper, your hands reach down to land on soft hair, you grip on it as a moan erupts from you, you grind your hips to aid the aching need, you look down and you’er er met with jaemin’s face in between your thighs, his jet black eyes watching you.

you jolt awake in horror, your mouth is dry as you pant, you tell yourself that it was just a dream, you close your eyes for a minute to calm your breathing, once you’ve calmed down your mind wonders to when he pressed himself to you earlier, his muscular body, his deep voice, his board chest and strong arms.. the pulse between your legs becomes too loud for you to fall back to sleep, your hands roam your body imaging if they were his, reality mixes with dreams, and in your disoriented state you reach down under your panties to be met with a mess of sticky wetness, your fingers slide with ease as your rub your folds, your breathing heaves as you dip your fingers inside your needy cunt, your eyes roll back as you moan his name, you desperately chase your release, pumping faster until you tip over the edge, your walls convulse uncontrollably as you cum hard, euphoric waves fill you, you bask in it while it lasts, your clouded mind clears up and you realize what you just did, your cheeks flaming in embarrassment, this is wrong, you shouldn’t think of him like this.

[eliemo]

Waiting Arms

Summary: Janus and Remus had never hurt him, but that didn't mean they hadn't known. It didn't mean they wouldn't still try.Virgil can't handle the fear of going back to how things used to be. 

TWs: Panic attacks, mention of past abuse 

Masterpost

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222 (If i missed someone or you wanna be added just let me know!) 

Virgil pushed himself off the floor, arms struggling to support his weight as he managed to make it to his knees, unable to stop trembling as the pain in his ribs and face grew to an unbearable throb.

He bit back rising tears, grabbing the couch for support to pull himself to his feet. He deserved this, he knew that. He’d really messed up this time.

But that was ok. He’d had worse (much worse). He could handle this. All he needed to do was get back to his room, hide out for a few hours to let the everyone’s temper simmer down, and then cover his face with enough concealer to hide any marks left on his skin.

No need to let everyone see what he’d deserved. It would only serve as an invitation to let them do it again.

The room tilted a bit when he finally stood up, but it righted itself quickly as Virgil blinked, hissing against the flare of pain where he’d been struck just below his eye.

He just needed to make it up the stairs, lock the door of his room and then--

“Anxiety?”

Virgil froze, halfway to the stairs, forcing himself to straighten up as Deceit appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching curiously through mismatched eyes.

“You look well,” he drawled, and moved to point a finger to his own face, mirroring the mark on Virgil’s. “What happened there?”

Virgil scrambled for an acceptable answer, coming up short as the panic quickly returned. He was...acquainted with Deceit but he didn’t know how best to traverse the other side when he was angry. He’d somehow been lucky enough to avoid setting him off.

“I uhm, I was just--”

There was suddenly a hand on the back of his neck, digging into his black hoodie, cold and controlling even through the cloth, and Virgil quickly snapped his mouth shut, knowing who was behind him without needing to look.

“It was just a simple accident,” the voice behind him said, dripping with false gentility. “I was grabbing Anxiety an ice pack- we all know how clumsy he can be.”

Deceit frowned, eyes flickering between the two sides. At the time, Virgil hadn’t recognized what it was, but for just a second something dangerously close to hope had flickered in his chest. Because Deceit looked unconvinced.

But it was gone as quickly as it came, dying back down into cold helplessness as the snake just sighed, shook his head and sank back down to his room.

Before Virgil could even move, the ice pack was being swung forward like a weapon, finding purchase against his already bruised cheek, hard enough to send him stumbling back against the staircase with a cry of pain.

“You’re welcome,” the side snapped, uncaring as ever. “I did you a favor- making sure he doesn’t know how much of a fuck up you are. He hasn’t had to hurt you yet, has he?”

Virgil shook his head, doubting the other wanted a verbal response from him right now. He stayed tense, braced for another blow, clutching the stair railing like a lifeline.

But it was true. Deceit was one of the only sides that had never been given a reason to punish him, and Virgil was more than happy to keep it that way.

The light sides hated him, he knew that, but he was careful not to stick around long enough to let them take out their anger, much as he deserved it. He had enough of that already.

Remus hadn’t gotten around to punishing him either, but the other half of creativity was terrifying for a whole list of other reasons. Virgil knew better than to risk pissing him off.

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” the other side said, tossing the unused ice pack in the trash. “Can you make it to your room?”

Virgil quickly nodded, knowing full well the question wasn’t asked out of sympathy or concern. The last time he hadn’t been able to walk on his own he’d practically been dragged by his hair up the stairs and down the hall, cruel hands only tugging harder when he struggled.

The other side apparently took his word for it, thankfully turning away without another remark, sinking out and leaving Anxiety alone again.

Virgil blinked, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, mulling over the memory for what had to be the third time that evening.

That had to have been...what, years ago? Too long ago to know for sure.

That was just...how things had been back then. Virgil was pushed around, beaten and berated, constantly punished for things that (he now knew) should never have been a big deal.

But he’d assumed it was normal. Normal for Anxiety to be hated and hurt, normal to be terrified of any mistake, no matter how small. Because his presence was tolerated, not wanted. Because he was a villain.

He’d believed it. All of it. And so naturally, he’d just as easily believed Janus and Remus were just as likely to punish him.

Everyone wanted to hurt Virgil. The light sides, the dark sides, and the sides Thomas would never see. That was what Anxiety was there for.

If a side hadn’t hurt Virgil, it was only because they hadn’t been given a reason yet. They would eventually.

But now...looking back on it, maybe it wasn’t so simple. They’d lied about why they’d hurt him, he knew that now, so maybe they’d lied about Janus and Remus too.

They’d told him Patton, Roman, and Logan would hurt him just as happily as anyone else, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.

So maybe lying to Janus every time he’d been caught with a black eye or bloody nose hadn’t been to spare Virgil from another beating. Maybe it was just to cover up their own lies and abuse.

Maybe Janus and Remus hadn’t joined in the abuse because they hadn’t known. And if they’d known it would have stopped.

God, Virgil hoped they hadn’t known.

He didn’t know what he’d do if they had, and they’d just watched and let it happen. He didn’t know what the others would do.

It was the reason he hadn’t asked yet, too terrified to hear the answer, even as Janus revealed his name and gradually began to fit into their lives, and Remus inevitably began hanging around more.

Because...because what if they had? What if they were just as willing to hurt him as the others had been? What if things went right back to how they used to be?

He knew...he knew the others would never let that happen. Accepting Janus was a shaky process, and they were getting there, but Virgil knew that if Janus attempted to strike him…

Well, it wouldn’t be pretty. He knew how protective his family was when it came to sending him back to that awful mindset.

But if Janus and Remus were aware, if they were living under the assumption that Virgil was there to be a punching bag…

All his progress would be undone. He’d go right back to how things had been, always terrified and overly cautious, any little slip up enough to send him into a mindless, blinding panic.

He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t live like that again. Not after being safe for so long.

So when Logan asked if Virgil had plans to tell Janus and Remus, he’d quickly shut the idea down and disappeared into his room before the logical side could offer any convincing argument.

Not knowing was better. He could just assume everything was fine and continue on like normal. If he never asked, never clarified, he couldn’t be given the answer he was dreading.

Of course, nothing could ever be so simple for him, could it?

It was mid afternoon, all of them dispersing to wind down after their usual routine of yelling at each other in Thomas’s living room until their host somehow came to a conclusion, and Virgil had wandered into the kitchen for something to drink.

Janus was already there, leaned back in the dining room chair with what looked like a glass of wine, and for just a second Virgil hesitated.

He and Janus had been...working on their rocky relationship. Slowly. They were getting there, Virgil just...wasn’t sure how he felt about being alone with him.

Because if there was no one around to stop him, and Virgil ended up doing something wrong and Janus had been perfectly aware of the abuse then there was nothing stopping him from--

“Virgil,” Janus greeted, easy and welcoming. “There definitely aren’t any leftovers from last night in the fridge.”

Virgil relaxed, allowing an easy smile to slip onto his face. Nobody had any reason to be upset with him. It was fine.

And he had to admit, aside from the lingering fear that refused to give him a moment of peace, having Janus and Remus around was...not as bad as he initially thought it would be.

He put the leftovers in the microwave and carefully got out one of the plastic cups to fill up with water while he waited.

Janus had made a smug remark about using plastic cups the first time he’d joined them for dinner.

The energy in the room had suddenly dipped, Logan and Patton exchanging nervous glances while Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand so tight he thought it might bruise.

Janus must have picked up on the importance of the plastic, because the dishes were used without further complaint ever being brought up again.

Virgil was yanked from his thoughts when Remus suddenly made his appearance in the kitchen, his Morning Star slamming down on the counter just inches from the anxious side, a hand coming down to rest on the back of his neck.

It was a textbook example of what would trigger Virgil into a panic attack, but of course Remus wouldn’t know that. No one had told him because Virgil had specifically asked them not to- not yet anyway- and he was suddenly understanding why Logan had been so hesitant to honor his wishes.

He lurched back so fast, twisting out of Remus’s hold, that he briefly forgot there was a drink in his hand, the water sloshing over the edge and seeping into the rug below his feet.

“Very mature,” Janus said, draining the rest of his glass. “Do you two mind not making a mess? I’m trying to unwind.”

Janus wasn’t angry. Amused, if anything. Virgil could have easily locked onto his tone and recognized that if he’d been just a bit more put together.

But Remus was grinning, blocking the exit, and wielding a weapon (he was usually wielding a weapon, there was no reason Virgil should be this frightened), and it was quickly growing impossible to latch onto rational thought.

“It’s not my fault Emo’s so clumsy,” Remus said, twirling his Morning Star until it rested over his shoulder, and Virgil desperately willed himself to just calm down. “I was just saying hi!”

He’d made a mess and he was trapped. He was outnumbered too...it would be so easy for Janus and Remus to grab him and--

But they wouldn’t. Not where the others could see. But...but the others weren’t here. Not right now. Where were they?

“Patton’s not gonna be happy about that spill,” Remus said, with a tone that Virgil would know was simple teasing under any other circumstance. “Don’t you think we should teach the emo a lesson, Jan?”

He was joking, he was joking. Remus was so clearly joking- they did stupid shit like this all the time. This was when Virgil would promptly tell Remus to go fuck himself, the Duke would make a sexual innuendo and stick around just long enough to steal some of his food.

That was how it was. Because despite everything, Virgil and Remus got along. When Virgil wasn’t struggling to convince himself he wasn’t about to be beaten to death.

He swallowed, his throat having suddenly gone cold and dry. “He...they- they won’t let you, Remus.”

“Aw, what’s wrong, Virgey? Scared of me?”

Yes. Terrified. But he couldn’t say that- he wasn’t supposed to be afraid. He’d made a mess, he’d ruined things, he was expected to understand and take the pain.

But it wasn’t like that anymore. He was supposed to be safe.

Virgil kept his hands behind him to hide the way they’d started shaking, curling them around the kitchen counter, and he cautiously glanced at Janus in one last desperate cry for help.

He just raised an amused eyebrow at Remus, not bothering to hide his smirk. “I believe Logan is napping. Just try not to wake him up, whatever you do.”

And just like that, it was back. The helplessness, the fear, the feeling of being trapped and cornered like some kind of cowardly animal people took sadistic joy in kicking around for fun.

Virgil was darting forward before he really even thought about it, too frantic to consider sinking out, eyes only on the exit to the rest of the mindscape where he could get help--

But Remus was faster of course, having been stood just inches away from the anxious side to begin with, dropping his weapon in favor of grabbing Virgil around the waist and abruptly hoisting him off the floor.

“Remus!” It came out much more strangled than he would have liked, but that was the least of his worries. “Let me- let me go.”

“Aw come on, we’re just having fun!”

Virgil wanted to fight- he wanted to kick and scream and do whatever he could to get out of the Duke’s grasp. He needed to get free, he needed to run and find one of the others. They would help him. They’d promised.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, frozen in the confining hold, eyes wide and breathing erratic. He couldn’t fight back because if he struggled…

Whenever he struggled it was worse. He wasn’t supposed to fight back. He deserved whatever came next.

But he had people who would help him now. But those people weren’t here-

“Remus.” That was Janus’s voice, muffled by Virgil’s own racing heart, and he thought he saw the other side stand from his chair. “Remus let him go.”

“Aw, but I’m--”

“Remus, put him down now!”

The yelling made it worse- overwhelming and loud and angry-

Remus let go without warning, which meant Virgil was on the ground before he could even blink, on his back and defenseless.

Remus was looking down at him, head tilted like a confused puppy, playful grin gradually dropping into something more confused.

“You alright, Emo?”

Virgil was already scrambling backwards, desperate and uncoordinated, only stopping when he found himself pressed up against the bottom of the kitchen counter.

Remus and Janus were both standing now, watching with a mix of perplexion and rare concern. Janus took a step forward, and Virgil’s hands moved to protect his face.

“Virgil—“

“You can’t.” He knew begging wouldn’t get him anywhere, as close as he was to falling into an endless string of pleas. But maybe he could get them to understand that they couldn’t do this anymore.

“Y-you- you can’t, you can’t they won’t- Thomas won’t he said- he said—“

“I don’t understand, Virgil.” Janus was lowering himself to one knee, no longer looming above him, and Remus was hurriedly backing up like Virgil was a bomb rigged to explode. “Can you explain to me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Janus was too close and the exit was still blocked and he couldn’t take a single breath.

“Please don’t,” he found himself begging, pathetic and useless as ever. “You can’t hurt me, you can’t . Not anymore not- T-Thomas won’t—“

“Wait what?” Remus called from the doorway. “Hurt you? Shit, Virge I wasn't gonna—“

“Virgil, you need to breathe,” Janus said. “One deep breath, you’re alright.”

He shook his head, hating himself for the way he’d so quickly been reduced to a trembling, terrified mess, hating the way both dark sides could so clearly see it.

“Can’t,” he managed through frantic wheezes. “I can’t, I- please please don’t, I don’t want to be hurt again please.”

His words were met by a brief string of silence, heavy and unsure, Janus’s gloved hands hovering helplessly in the air.

“Virgil.” Janus’s voice made Virgil freeze, something steady but so clearly struggling not to be angry. “Have they hurt you before?”

“I…” he was struggling to answer, to wrap his head around what was being asked. “I don’t—”

“Virgil,” Janus said again, hand still outstretched but not touching, brown and gold eyes intense enough to be staring into his soul. “The others. Did they hurt you?”

Virgil swallowed, unable to stop shaking, arms still held out to protect his face, all his attention focused solely on the anger Janus was obviously trying not to show.

He couldn’t lie. Janus would obviously know if he was telling the truth or not- that's who he was. Virgil couldn’t risk making him even more upset.

“They- they did,” he forced out, his own voice small and unsteady. “I’m s-sorry I thought you--”

“Guys?” There was movement somewhere behind Janus, a glimpse of white and gold. “What’re you- oh shit, Virgil!”

Virgil stopped at the new presence at the doorway, the relief that flooded at the sight of Roman dizzying, even as he choked and struggled to breathe on the kitchen floor.

Roman started forward, eyes shining with that gentle worry Virgil had long ago learned to recognize through the haze of panic.

But Remus was suddenly in front of his brother, Morning Star back in his hand, effectively blocking his path. Roman stopped, concern shifting to surprise- then quickly to cold fury.

“Remus,” he practically growled. “Get out of my way.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Remus, he’s having a panic attack!” Roman’s eyes briefly met Virgil’s, before his view was blocked again. “He doesn’t know what’s happening! This isn’t funny!”

“No, it’s not,” Janus said, standing from his crouch. “So you better tell us what the hell you did to him.”

“I- what?”

“He thinks we’re going to hurt him,” Remus snapped. “Why the fuck does he think that, Roman?”

Everyone was angry (why was everyone so loud?), all of them looming above him, standing over him to keep him down, all of them close enough to grab or hurt him if he made one wrong move.

What was Roman doing? Why wasn’t Roman helping him? He could barely make out the Prince from where he was...was he just letting this happen?

“Virgil?” Janus was talking to him again, glancing between Roman and the trembling lump on the floor. “You’re hyperventilating, V, you need to--”

“Of course he’s hyperventilating!” Roman said, and Virgil jumped at the sudden volume. He sounded angry. Had..had he managed to make Roman upset too? “You idiots won't let me help him!”

Remus held his ground, weapon still raised, and Roman looked like he was seconds away from drawing his sword against his brother.

“I’m not letting you near him until you tell us exactly why he’s so convinced someone’s about to beat him!”

“I will, just--”

“He said you hurt him! He fucking said that, Roman!”

“It’s- shit, Remus it’s not like that--”

Janus was suddenly crouched in front of Virgil again, blocking his view of the fight, his voice close enough to muffle the yelling.

“I need you to breathe,” he said, voice taking on a gentle tone Virgil hadn’t heard in a long time. “You’ll be alright, but I need you to breathe with me.”

Virgil shook his head, pressing further back against the counter, nails digging into the rug beneath him. He couldn’t breathe- wouldn’t force himself to calm down when he knew the second he did it would only be met with pain and punishment, right when he’d started to think he was safe.

He wasn’t safe. He was never safe, they would always hurt him because he deserved-

Janus reached for his hand, already starting a vaguely familiar breathing exercise, but Virgil yanked his arm back, hardly registering the flare of pain that came from slamming into the counter, the fear suffocating.

“Don’t!” He snapped, too shaky and quiet to be intimidating in the slightest. But Janus froze nonetheless, the human side of his face falling. “Don’t- don’t touch me, you can’t do this anymore!”

“Virgil--” 

It was too loud, everyone was too loud and angry and he’d managed to upset everyone again. He didn’t know where Patton or Logan were (had he upset them too? Had he done something wrong? Maybe they’d finally decided to let things go back to how they were), and he could barely hear anything Janus was trying to say.

And then, fueled only by panicked instinct rather than rational thought, Virgil forced himself to sink out, the storm of sound from the kitchen fading just like that.

He was still on the ground, fingers now digging into plush carpet, everything finally still and quiet.

But he still couldn’t breathe, still drowning under the knowledge that everything had gone back to the way it was. Everyone was angry, everyone wanted him to hurt—

“Virgil?”

He jumped, scrambling to his feet despite knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that he hadn’t gone back to his own room, not wanting to be alone. He was never safe when he was alone.

“Virge? Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Virgil realized he’d left the mindscape as soon as he saw Thomas toss his phone aside and get up from the couch- and he wanted to sob at the utter relief that came with seeing his kind and worried gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, more on instinct than anything else, but he had popped in without any warning, wheezing and crying and probably freaking Thomas out. “I just...c-can I stay? Please, I can’t- I can’t go back, I don’t--”

“Hey hey hey, you’re ok,” Thomas said, stopping just a few paces from Virgil. “Of course you can stay, bud. You can stay with me as long as you want.”

Thomas smiled, small and hopeful as he opened his arms in a wordless invitation, and Virgil didn’t hesitate before flinging himself forward and sobbing into Thomas’s chest, his legs threatening to give out when arms moved to wrap around him, protective and secure.

“There you go,” Thomas said, rocking them both gently, his steady heartbeat beating in Virgil’s ear. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, you’re ok. What’s going on, Virge?”

He clutched the material of Thomas’s shirt, willing himself to breathe normally, his gasps still coming in too short and too fast, wincing at the sound of his own awful wheezes.

“I-I c-can't- I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, vaguely aware he was probably ruining Thomas’s shirt, but the host didn’t seem to mind. “They...it stopped and now i-it’s gonna happen again and I can’t--”

“Alright, slow down,” Thomas soothed, making no move to let go. “Focus on my breathing, ok? Try and copy me.”

“I-I...I can’t--”

“Yes you can. I’m right here, you’re safe, I promise you’ll be ok. But you need to breathe, Virgil. Please, you’re scaring me.”

That was enough to get through to Virgil, a bit of reason amidst the panic. Thomas was already scared, and Virgil was only going to amplify that. And if he hurt Thomas ...oh god, if Thomas was affected by this it would only give everyone another excuse to be angry--

“Sorry,” he forced out around his obnoxious crying. God why couldn’t he just be quiet? “S-sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry Thomas, I can try to--”

“Don’t apologize,” Thomas said, holding him tighter. “I’m not angry, bud, I’m worried. Just try to breathe with me, ok?”

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, willing his racing thoughts to quiet just long enough for him to listen, to focus on Thomas’s slow and steady breaths, on the rise and fall of his chest.

The panic didn’t fade, the feeling that at any moment someone would appear to drag him back blaring like an alarm, but after a few moments the ache in his chest began to ebb, and Virgil felt himself come back just a bit.

“There you go,” Thomas praised, even as Virgil’s breathing continued to be broken up by sobs, still shaky and small and much too fast. “You’re doing so well. You’ll be ok.”

Virgil shook his head, shuddering when Thomas reached up to cup the back oh his head. “They- they’re gonna do it again and I can’t, I--”

“Virgil--”

“Please.” He couldn’t pull away, couldn’t look up and risk seeing pity or annoyance, the dismissal of Virgil’s fear that would leave him helpless and alone all over again, like nothing had ever changed. “Please don’t let them do it again, Thomas please. You said- you- you said...just please don’t change your mind, Thomas, please.”

His words were met with silence, the living room still and quiet for just a moment before Thomas loosened his grip.

“Let’s...why don’t we get you over to the couch? I don’t think you’re thinking very clearly.”

Virgil couldn’t move, ice cold dread clawing at his throat. “Please...please, Thomas, please.”

“Hey.” Thomas was suddenly in front of him, hands on Virgil’s shoulders practically keeping him upright, and the anxious side warily met his gaze. “I promise, I won't let anything bad happen to you, Virgil. I don’t know what you think is happening right now, but we said no one would ever hurt you again, right?”

“I...but they- what if they--?”

“We can talk about it when you’re calm,” Thomas said. “You’re exhausting yourself. But I can promise you, things will never go back to the way they were. Ever. We love you Virge, and that’ll never change. Do you understand?”

Virgil blinked, breath caught in his throat, struggling to latch onto the words he so desperately wanted to believe, fighting to just listen and relax.

“It’s ok if you don’t right now,” Thomas added when Virgil didn’t respond, and nothing about his tone hinted that he was annoyed or upset. “I know you’re not completely here right now. But you protect us, right? So just...believe me when I say we’re gonna do the same for you.”

And then Virgil was suddenly being led forward, the unfortunately familiar exhaustion eating away at the lingering panic, everything feeling oddly distant and dull.

He allowed Thomas to lower him onto his back against the couch cushions, fighting back another hiccuping sob when something soft gently wiped away his tears.

Thomas was talking to him again, soothing but worried, and by the time Virgil thought he heard other voices join in, his eyes had already slipped closed.

When Virgil woke up again, it only took a few terrifying moments to realize he was on Thomas’s couch, the events of the afternoon flooding back, along with the shame and embarrassment. Just like always.

Damn. He’d really fooled himself into believing he was getting better, huh? It’d had been weeks since he’d panicked that badly...he’d actually started to think he was over that.

But then again, this had been...different. Janus and Remus hadn’t known. They could very well be under the impression that hurting Virgil was expected. Encouraged, even.

God, he should have asked. He should have set the record straight as soon as Janus was accepted. Now they might be upset or angry, and they could be planning to--

There were footsteps from the kitchen, making their way towards the couch. They stopped as soon as Virgil’s breath hitched, his fingers curling into the blanket that had been carefully placed over him.

“Kiddo?”

He instantly relaxed at Patton’s voice, just over a whisper, and he let out a shaky breath as the steps continued.

“Hey,” Patton said, setting down a mug on the coffee table and kneeling beside the couch. “How’re you feeling?”

Virgil shrugged and struggled to sit up, wincing when pain shot down his arm, gratefully accepting the help Patton quickly offered. “I’m fine. Just...just tired.”

“I’ll bet,” Patton said, when Virgil was situated. “I heard you had quite a scare today.”

Virgil’s cheeks suddenly felt hot, well aware of how pathetic everyone probably thought he was. “It was dumb.”

“You and I both know it wasn’t,” Patton said and then paused, suddenly averting his gaze. “I heard what happened. And...we had to tell Janus and Remus. About why you reacted that way.”

Virgil’s stomach churned, and he really hoped he wasn’t about to throw up. He’d already embarrassed himself enough for one day.

“Ok,” he said, voice back to that small, shaking whisper. “What did they say?”

Patton took his hand and squeezed, brown eyes big and pleading behind his glasses. “They feel horrible, Virgil. They really do.”

His words loosened some of the panic in Virgil’s gut, but...but it didn’t get rid of it completely. “Ok.”

“They didn’t know,” Patton added, like he could read Virgil’s mind. “We had to explain it to them. They were in the same boat we were.”

“That’s...that’s good. I guess.” He hesitated, blinking down and Patton’s fingers intertwined with his own. “I...I guess I was worried things were going to go back. To...you know. How they were.”

“I know, honey,” he said, and suddenly Patton was pulling him into a hug, the angle a bit awkward but warm and safe all the same, and Virgil melted into the embrace. “But it won’t. Not ever. Even if Remus and Janus wanted to- which they don’t- we wouldn’t let them.”

Patton pulled back before Virgil could say anything, reaching forward to cup the anxious side’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“We wouldn’t,” he said again. “We wouldn’t let them, Virge. You know that, right?”

And it took every ounce of willpower Virgil had left not to burst into tears once again. Because he did. And he remembered Thomas saying something similar.

“Yeah,” he choked out, chest loosening when Patton smiled. “I do, Pat. I know.”

Patton’s smile only grew, and he leaned forward to give Virgil a quick kiss on the forehead, and for just a second everything in the world felt right. Peaceful.

“I sent Thomas to bed a little while ago,” he explained, and it was only then that Virgil realized how dark the living room was. “He wanted to see you, but…”

“He needs the rest,” Virgil said, knowing he’d probably done a number on Thomas’s anxiety. Great. “I didn’t mean to stress him out, I just...I wasn’t thinking.”

“He’s not angry,” Patton assured. “None of us are. You panicked, and you went to someone you felt safe with. I’m proud of you.”

Virgil had honestly expected to be reprimanded for the impulsive decision. Gently reprimanded, of course, because it was Patton, but told off all the same. His job was to keep Thomas safe and vigilant, not freak him out because of his own stupid panic attack.

But he did feel safe with Thomas. Going to him had been nothing but instinct and desperation, and he’d helped. More than anyone else probably could have in that moment.

He’d needed the reassurance, and Patton knew that. Thomas probably did too. He understood them better than he let on.

“The others are still awake,” Patton continued when it became clear Virgil didn’t have an answer. “They’re...really worried about you, if you’re willing to see them. It can wait until morning if you’re--”

“No.” Logically, he knew nobody was mad at him. He just...knew he wouldn’t get much rest until he saw it for himself. “No, I- I can see them now. It’s ok.”

Patton smiled, clearly relieved, and sank out with promises to be back in just a few seconds. Virgil leaned back, breathing in the silence and pushing the blanket away as he leaned back against the cushions.

True to his word, Patton was back in seconds, Roman and Logan rising up right behind him. Neither of them looked...great.

He had no idea what time it was, but it was clear they’d all been up for a while, waiting to talk to him. Logan’s tie was askew, his shirt wrinkled, and Virgil vaguely remembered the logical side agreeing to take a short nap that afternoon. He hoped he hadn’t woken him up.

Roman looked far worse, his sash gone, jacket undone and his hair (usually kept in perfect condition) an unkempt mess, like he’d been constantly running his fingers through it.

Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen the prince look so disheveled. He didn’t like knowing he was the reason behind it.

Janus and Remus didn’t appear with them, and didn’t seem to be making any plans to. Virgil tried not to think too hard about that.

Roman was already rushing forward before anyone could say anything, dropping to his knees in front of the couch. It was his usual dramatic grandeur, but there was real fear and regret behind the act.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, quieter than Virgil expected, and the anxious side quickly took the prince’s hands in his. “I should have- I tried to get to you but we- there was a stupid misunderstanding and I--”

“I know, Roman.” There had been a moment of confused terror back in the kitchen, his panicked brain unable to understand why Roman wasn’t helping. “I think- Remus thought you were...you know…”

“Janus and Remus believed that we were the ones who had been hurting you,” Logan said, and his voice sounded...strained. Hurt. “From their perspectives, keeping Roman away from you was the best course of action.”

Virgil swallowed, suddenly realizing how much fear and confusion he must have caused everyone. “I- I’m so sorry, I think I told them...god, I didn’t mean to.”

Roman pulled himself up on the couch and Virgil scooted over to give him room as the prince pulled him close, and he fell against his chest.

“It’s quite alright,” Logan said, shoulders relaxing when Patton squeezed his hand. “It’s been straightened out. And of course, no one blames you for poor communication during a panic attack.”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Patton jumped in. “It was just...a scary miscommunication. We all just wanted to help you, kiddo.”

Virgil had no intention of pulling away from Roman, but he held out a hand for Logan to take and pulled the logical side onto the couch, Patton following behind.

The angle wasn’t ideal, but they organized themselves into some kind of sloppy group hug, and to Virgil it was beyond perfect. For a moment he closed his eyes and listened to their breathing, their familiar presence on all sides.

He was safe. He was, and he always would be. What happened for all those years was...it was wrong. He knew that now. And it wasn’t going to happen again.

There was no reason for his chest to still feel so tight.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, wrapped up safely in each other’s silence, but a flash of movement from the doorway made Virgil pull back, the others reluctantly following.

Janus stood in the light from the kitchen, looking like he’d just been about to sink back out, straightening abruptly when he realized all eyes had turned to him.

“I apologize,” he said quickly, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever heard him sound so uneasy. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back later.”

“You’re fine,” Virgil said without even really considering it. “You can come in.”

Janus hesitated, looking to the others for some kind of unspoken permission before making his way into the living room, all his movements eerily out of character.

He smiled, still a few steps away from the couch, the gesture not quite meeting his eyes. “You seem to be feeling better.”

Virgil wasn’t sure if that was a lie or not, but he shrugged all the same. “Yeah, I’m uh...I’m fine, I guess.”

He felt that familiar, overwhelming need to apologize again, but he bit his tongue and pushed it away. Patton seemed to notice, sending him a small, proud smile.

“I’d like to talk to you,” Janus said. “Alone, if you’re up for it.”

The twist in his chest was back, tightening worse than before, but Virgil resolutely ignored it, digging his hands into the blanket and forcing himself to breathe.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Janus said quickly, raising his gloved hands. “It’s been a long day. It can wait.”

“I’m ok,” Virgil said, pushing past the rising anxiety, the doubt and old fears piling up. He owed Janus a chance. “We can talk. It’s fine.”

Logan and Patton exchanged glances, and Roman was watching him skeptically, all of them oddly silent.

“It’s ok,” he promised. “Seriously, guys. I’m fine, all of you need to go to bed. It’s late.”

Patton sighed, flashing Janus a sympathetic smile before standing up from the couch, the others slowly following suit.

“Both of you get some sleep when you’re done,” he said, before turning back to Virgil. “My door is open all night if you need me, honey. Don’t be afraid to come get me.”

Virgil nodded, bid them all a quiet goodnight as they sank out, leaving him and Janus alone in the dimly lit living room.

It took a moment, neither of them knowing quite what to say, but Virgil scooted aside and Janus sat on the other end of the couch, gloved hands folded neatly in his lap, staring straight ahead at nothing.

For a traitorous second, Virgil expected to be hit. They were alone now, if Janus had been lying, now was the perfect time to punish him.

Janus took a breath, speaking so softly for a moment Virgil almost thought it wasn’t directed at him. “You used to be incredibly accident prone.”

He blinked, risking a glance up at the other side, only able to see the scaled side of his face from where he sat.

“You fell quite a lot,” he continued, and Virgil wondered if he was being insulted. “You always seemed to have...cuts or bruises somewhere. I remember I once caught you with a particularly nasty bruise below your eye. I don’t remember who it was- it was so long ago- but they said it was an accident. They brought you an ice pack.”

Virgil swallowed, clasping his hands together, knowing exactly what Janus was referring to, despite the situation being identical to so many in the past.

Janus finally turned to look at him, eyes filled with so much pain and regret, Virgil momentarily forgot how to breathe. “Those weren’t accidents, were they?”

It wasn’t a question. Janus knew the answer. But Virgil shook his head regardless, stubbornly swallowing against the lump forming in his throat, the familiar stinging behind his eyes.

“Oh Virgil,” Janus whispered, faint and broken. “Virgil, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Virgil shrugged, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay before answering. “I thought you knew. They said...they told me you would just do it too. I thought...I thought everyone knew.”

Janus didn’t respond at first, still watching Virgil with someone unreadable in his eyes. And then, slowly, he began peeling off one of his gloves.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m telling you the truth,” Janus said. “I need you to believe me.”

“You...you don’t have to do that.” Virgil’s voice broke, and he quickly wiped away a stray tear. “I trust you.”

Janus just shook his head, removed his glove and set it aside, then carefully held up his now bare right hand.

“Virgil,” he said. “Look at me.”

Virgil obeyed, taking a shaky breath before glancing up to meet Janus’s eyes, forcing himself not to look away as he spoke.

“Virgil,” he started, leaning in closer, voice low and almost desperate. “I didn’t know. I swear, Remus and I didn’t know. If we did- if we thought for a second that something like that was happening- we would have stopped it. Immediately.”

And Virgil...somewhere behind the panic Virgil had known that. He hadn’t thought Janus had lied to the others, and he had certainly been more than eager to protect him when he’d thought Roman was a threat.

But hearing him say it, the raw emotion he so rarely heard in the snake’s voice, the way he looked so desperate for Virgil to listen and believe his promise…

He was curling in on himself before he could even try to stop, a tiny hiccuping sob breaking free from his chest, fresh tears now freely streaming down his face.

Janus put a hand on his back, another moving to cup the back of his head, slowly moving him forward until Virgil rested against his chest, gripping Janus’s sleeves.

It wasn’t quite a hug, they weren’t ready for that just yet. But they’d get there. And right now, this...this was exactly what Virgil needed.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said again, and Virgil could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard a genuine, heartfelt apology come from him. “I’m sorry, Virgil. I wish I’d put a stop to it a long time ago.”

Virgil shrugged, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to avoid crying all over Janus’s clothes, desperately fighting back another sob.

“I thought about telling you,” he managed, small and muffled. “So many times. You were- you were nice. You tolerated me, you...you were the only one.”

Janus’s grip tightened, just for a moment. “I...hadn’t realized.”

Virgil laughed at that, the sound humorless and dry. “They said you knew. They said...they- they said you’d hurt me too once I pissed you off. I was...shit, Janus I was so scared. I was always so fucking scared.”

He heard Janus’s breath catch, felt him suddenly go very still and silent.

“I thought you knew,” Virgil said again. “And then I- I learned that it wasn’t...normal. When you and Remus started showing up I was so...I thought you would make me go back. I thought it was going to happen again.”

“I know.” Janus took a breath, pulling away slightly to look Virgil in the eyes. “But it won’t.”

Virgil nodded, covering his hands with his sleeves and wiping at his soaked face. “I don’t...I still don’t get it. I don’t understand why they hated me so much.”

“I don’t either.” Janus squeezed Virgil’s hand before reaching over to grab his glove. “I really don’t. But you’re safe now, and if they ever come anywhere near you again--”

“You’ll kill them, I know.” Virgil managed a smile, small but genuine all the same, pulling his hoodie tight around himself. “Get in line.”

Janus matched his smile, both visibly relaxing, and Virgil realized the tight feeling in his chest had almost disappeared. It wasn’t gone entirely, not yet, but it was better. They would be ok.

“Remus wants to...give you some space I think,” Janus said, and Virgil tried not to think too hard about what that meant. “Are you ok to be alone tonight? I can always stay.”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m just...probably gonna head to bed.” Virgil knew full well he wasn’t going to try and get any more sleep, not unless he wanted a full night of reliving traumatic memories through vivid nightmares, but Janus didn’t need to know that.

The snake hummed, slipping his yellow glove back on and standing up from the couch. Virgil hesitated, not wanting to risk falling on his face in front of anyone right now.

“Well, I hope you get some rest,” Janus said, gradually starting to sound like himself again, but still genuine and warm. “I...hope you feel like you can come to me if you need anything. Just as long as you don’t wake me up before nine.”

Virgil laughed as the other side sank out, chest loosening even more. He shut his eyes for a moment, silently counting out his own breathing, before pushing himself to his feet and sinking back out into the mindscape.

He rose up in the common area with the intent of grabbing a snack and heading back to his room for the foreseeable future, but he quickly realized he wasn’t alone when there was movement and a flash of green on the couch.

“Shit!” Remus shouted, then instantly looked like he regretted it when Virgil jumped. “Fuck- I mean, shit, sorry Virge, I’m leaving, I was just--”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said quickly, hating...whatever side of Remus this was. He wasn’t supposed to be so careful and on edge. Ever. It went against everything he represented. “Seriously, it’s...it’s chill. I’m just grabbing some food.”

He didn’t move and neither did Remus, both of them standing on opposite ends of the mindscape living room, neither quite willing to meet the other’s gaze.

Remus spoke first, loud and sudden, but Virgil didn’t flinch. “I’m so fucking sorry, Virgil.”  

Virgil took a steadying breath, eyes on Remus’s shoes. He’d been expecting the apology, and it helped (it was much more welcome than the ridicule or contempt he was always half expecting), but there was only so much emotional turmoil he could go through in one night.

“It’s ok,” he said. “You didn’t know.”

“That’s why I’m sorry.”

They fell silent again, and Virgil wondered if he should just give up and walk away as Remus plopped back down onto the couch.

“How long?” the Duke asked suddenly, just as Virgil was actually starting to walk forward. “How long did they...you know. Do that?”

He stopped, temporarily frozen at the question, forcefully pushing down memories fighting to come back to the surface. Later. He could think about it later.

“Dunno,” he muttered, and it wasn’t a lie. “I can’t, uh...really remember when they didn’t.”

Remus stood abruptly, face twisted in dark rage and disgust, and Virgil instinctively took a step back.

“I’ll kill them,” he snarled. “I’ll kill them right now, I swear to god. They’re dead. Everyone who ever fucking touched you, Virgil. I’m killing them.”

“No you’re not,” Virgil sighed. It was a nice thought, though. “You have no idea what that’ll do to Thomas.”

“Then I’ll go beat the shit out of them!” He spun around to face the anxious side, and Virgil couldn’t help his nervous smile at the Duke’s eagerness. “Give them a taste of their own medicine, you know? Make them regret everything they ever did!”

“Please don’t.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out so soft, but Remus quickly fell silent. “I just...I don’t want to risk it. I want them to just leave me alone.”

“They’re never getting to you again,” Remus assured. “Ever. I’ll rip them to shreds if they even look at you! I’ll--”

“I know. I know, Remus I just...want them to forget about me.”

He’d never be able to forget about them, he knew that. He still woke up screaming at least once a month with their words echoing in his ears, cowering and expecting a blow from a faded memory.

But he’d clearly meant so little to them. He’d been nothing. A walking punching bag. He was out of their reach now, safe and protected, so if there was nothing to remind them that he even existed…

They’d forget about him. They’d never think of him again. And Virgil could rest a little easier at the thought.

And Remus, despite no doubt having many graphic plans to extract his revenge, seemed to understand, and he smiled. Not the toothy, playful grin they’d all gotten used to after a lewd joke, but a real, reassuring smile.

Virgil briefly wondered how many people got to see that smile. He felt strangely honored.

“No problem, Emo,” he said. “Just don’t expect me not to think about bashing their skulls in.”

Virgil smiled, ducked his head, and disappeared into the kitchen. He reemerged a few moments later with a bowl of popcorn and plans to hide out in his room watching Youtube until he inevitably passed out.

“It’s almost three,” Remus called as he passed, like either of them had healthy sleep schedules. “You planning on sleeping anytime soon?”

“Probably not. I think I’m just gonna watch stupid conspiracy videos or something until I’m too paranoid to sleep.”

“Have fun with that, Virgey.”

Virgil adjusted his hold on the popcorn bowl, and made it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before stopping, hesitating just a moment before turning around.

“Do you want to like...join me?”

There was genuine surprise on Remus’s face before something much more familiar took over, the Duke waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Join you?”

“Jesus, ew.” Virgil was almost positive Remus could see his poorly concealed smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Come on, I just meant like...we haven’t really hung out together. And I don’t...really want to be alone.”

The Duke’s expression softened, and he stood up from the couch to make his way over to the stairs, snagging a handful of popcorn as Virgil started up the steps.

“Lead the way, Emo!” he sing-songed, probably loud enough to wake everyone in the mindscape, humming under his breath as he followed, and Virgil wondered if he would regret this by the morning.

Somehow, he really doubted it.

It wasn’t until his laptop was set up, Remus sprawled out at the end of his bed babbling away, that Virgil realized the tight feeling in his chest had finally faded completely.

[zintranslations]

Kaleidoscope of Death, Ch. 70

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Link to ongoing Taida Translations

Chapter 70: Appetite

Can't help it anymore. When he heard Qin Budai say this, Lin Qiushi felt a chill deep in his bones. The person before him wore fresh blood on his lips, and stared at him with a pair of silent, red-veined eyes. The look that was so clearly stifling something lifted a light layer of goosebumps along Lin Qiushi's arms. All of Lin Qiushi's instincts were ringing the alarm—that the person in front of him was very, very dangerous.

Qin Budai gradually got closer and closer. His footsteps finally halted before Lin Qiushi, and he slowly called out Lin Qiushi's name. His tone was both cloying and cold, sending very mixed signals.

At that moment, Lin Qiushi wanted to turn and run. But he also felt that the instant he left his back open, something completely out of his control would happen. So he thoroughly smothered that urge to escape and hide, and instead said, "Qin Budai, are you alright?"

Qin Budai smiled eerily at Lin Qiushi. "I'm fine." It probably would've been better if he hadn't smiled at all; it only made his expression seem more twisted.

Just as the two stood in stalemate, Chen Fei's voice came warily from outside the kitchen. "What are you two doing?"

Chen Fei reached and flipped the light switch on the wall. The entire kitchen lit up, and he got a good look at the scene before him.

"Qin Budai— What are you doing?" His gaze fell on that slab of meat Qin Budai had been chewing on, and the moment after he asked this question, he seemed to comprehend exactly what Qin Budai had done. There was a brief hitch in his breath. "You just came out of a door?"

Qin Budai slowly nodded.

"Hungry?" Chen Fei sounded very calm, like he saw nothing wrong at all with the scene before him. "Let me cook you something to eat."

Qin Budai didn't speak, just turned and left.

Watching him go, Chen Fei didn't stop him, just sighed lightly.

"What in the world happened?" Lin Qiushi wasn't as experienced as Chen Fei, and couldn't understand what was going on with Qin Budai. Honestly, Qin Budai’s current state reminded Lin Qiushi of the monsters inside the doors.

"He's probably been affected by the door world." Chen Fei went to the fridge, and pulled out a steak. He really was planning to cook it for Qin Budai. "The human psyche is a fragile thing. After a strong shock, it can be prone to disorder." After saying this, he glanced over at Lin Qiushi. "Not everyone can accept things as calmly as you can."

Lin Qiushi didn't know what to say.

"The worst situation is when everybody else is dead, but the door and the key haven't appeared." Chen Fei lit the stove, heated the oil, and set the steak into the pan with a sizzle. "You're trapped alone inside the door, not knowing how long you'll be stuck there…"

His voice got lower and lower.

It was indeed nightmarish.

To be trapped inside alone. Just the thought of it sent chills throughout the body. Lin Qiushi leaned against the threshold. "Qin Budai… will be okay, right?"

Chen Fei shook his head. "I don't know."

Lin Qiushi, "what do you mean you don't know?"

Chen Fei, "I mean that I don't know if he'll get better, if he can separate reality from the world of the doors."

Lin Qiushi frowned. "If he can't?"

Chen Fei's motions paused, and a self-mocking smile appeared across his face. "If he can't? If he can't… Then he's done for."

Killing people inside the door was fine, but in reality, there were laws and sanctions in place.

Plus, people like this became very dangerous. They may not murder, but they still may commit some other drastic crime. People who could not distinguish between the inside and outside could not continue staying at the mansion. Of course, this wasn't something Chen Fei told Lin Qiushi, because he didn't think it necessary.

The steak was done. Chen Fei plated and brought it to the dining table outside, handing it to Qin Budai.

Qin Budai cut the steak apart with a fork and knife, but his peripherals lingered on Lin Qiushi. He still felt hungry, and the steak before him was incapable of satiating that full-body, anxious gluttony he felt. But he didn't dare make it apparent—could only keep his head down, pretending to be happily chowing down.

Chen Fei watched from the side. Lin Qiushi noticed his brow furrowed in a knot, and a certain scrutiny in his eyes, like he was in the middle of diagnosing Qin Budai's condition.

Chen Fei asked, "what did you see inside the door?"

At the mention of the door, Qin Budai couldn't help a whole-body shiver. He opened his mouth, but said nothing even after a moment, like words couldn't possibly describe the world he'd seen.

Chen Fei, "hm?"

Qin Budai's reply was vague. "It was a very scary world. There wasn't much to eat. I was hungry the whole time."

Chen Fei didn't speak, sinking into thought.

Qin Budai finished the steak, and very politely bid them good night, returning upstairs to sleep.

Lin Qiushi stayed where he was, watching him go. He still felt there was something off with Qin Budai, but he couldn’t concretely say what it was.

Chen Fei said, "I'll ask Ruan-ge tomorrow."

Lin Qiushi, "ask him what?"

Chen Fei sighed, "which world Qin Budai went into, of course." Qin Budai was a newbie, still entering the first round of doors right now. He didn't have Lin Qiushi's luck—the group only took him through a couple of doors, and left him on his own for the most recent one.

Lin Qiushi nodded his agreement.

That night, Lin Qiushi didn't sleep very well. His mind, as he tossed and turned, was filled with the image of Qin Budai eating that raw meat. To tell the truth, after seeing that scene, even his sense of distinction between reality and the world of the doors felt blurred. It was an awful feeling, and left him filled with unease.

The next day, Lin Qiushi went downstairs sporting twin bags under his eyes.

Cheng Qianli had just come back from walking Toast, and Toast was twitching its fat little butt around, chasing and playing with Chestnut.

Cheng Qianli saw Lin Qiushi's severe lack of sleep, and said, "what happened? You look like you haven't woken up yet."

Lin Qiushi yawned. "It's nothing. I stayed up too late last night."

Cheng Qianli, "oh. Come eat breakfast then. My brother just cooked."

Cheng Yixie made porridge, along with a few small dishes. He was sitting and slowly eating at the table. Lin Qiushi went over to say good morning. Then he also grabbed a bowl to eat.

The people inside the mansion all began to gradually wake. Lin Qiushi saw Chen Fei. Then he also saw Qin Budai.

Qin Budai no longer had that scary aura from last night about him. He'd changed into a fresh outfit, and wore a smile. He approached Lin Qiushi and said, "good morning."

Lin Qiushi, "good morning."

"Sorry to scare you last night," Qin Budai said. "I'd just come out a door, and hadn't quite gotten myself together." He smiled, eyes rainbowing in a friendly expression. "I really am sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Lin Qiushi said. "You've… gotten yourself together now?"

Qin Budai nodded, indicating he has.

Chen Fei sat next to them, watching the two interact. He was examining Qin Budai without giving anything away, clearly not completely believing Qin Budai's excuse.

Not long after Ruan Nanzhu also came down. He maintained his typical aloofness, and made to head out after eating, before Chen Fei stopped him.

"Ruan-ge," Chen Fei said. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Ruan Nanzhu nodded, and the two went off into a corner.

Lin Qiushi knew Chen Fei was likely telling Ruan Nanzhu about what happened with Qin Budai. To tell the truth, the current Qin Budai didn't seem off at all. It was difficult to link him to the person manically consuming raw meat the night before. But however his psyche was actually doing, if he'd gotten better, Lin Qiushi couldn't be the judge. So he thought this matter was better left to Chen Fei.

Lin Qiushi finished eating, and returned to his room.

Spring had just ripened. Sunlight spilled in brilliance, a cool breeze caressed, and Lin Qiushi sat at his window, turning on his computer to browse that forum open only to people who'd been inside the doors.

There were lots of interesting posts on this forum. Lin Qiushi had already developed the habit of reading through them daily. Casually, he plucked a piece of candy from his table and popped it in his mouth. He moved the mouse and began browsing the posts.

The posts were a mess, and full of strange tales.

Some discussed the world inside the doors, others mentioned urban legends. Others still organized same-city meet-ups.

Lin Qiushi read through them with fascination.

Because they'd just come from a door, Ruan Nanzhu hadn't organized any activities for Lin Qiushi, just letting him rest.

Lin Qiushi thought that wasting away a day like this actually felt quite comfortable. He ate lunch, took a nap, and let the day pass by just like that.

After Chen Fei spoke to Ruan Nanzhu that morning, the two left the mansion. Nobody knew where they'd gone off to.

But Lin Qiushi was already used to them appearing and disappearing at will, and wasn't curious at all.

Cheng Qianli and Cheng Yixie though, were gone as well. Lin Qiushi guessed Cheng Yixie had brought Cheng Qianli into some lower level doors for training.

There was still Yi Manman, Lu Yanxue, and Qin Budai inside the mansion. The four of them ate a simple dinner, and Lin Qiushi retired to his room to rest.

After a shower, Lin Qiushi lied on his bed playing sudoku. This inconsequential game was always quick to calm his mood, and also had the benefit of making him sleepy.

As he gradually filled the boxes, however, he heard a knock at his door.

"Who is it?" Lin Qiushi went to door and pulled it open, to find Qin Budai standing there.

Qin Budai said, "hi. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Lin Qiushi blinked. "Right now?"

Qin Budai nodded.

Lin Qiushi hesitated. "Sure… Let's go talk in the study. Give me a second, I'll come over after I change." He was in his pajamas after all.

Qin Budai quietly watched Lin Qiushi. Currently, Lin Qiushi was dressed in white cotton pajamas, and his long elegant neck and his pretty collarbones were all on display. Lin Qiushi was handsome, with a gentle temperament. He looked instantly easy to get along with. He also looked… tasty.

Qin Budai suddenly licked his lips.

Lin Qiushi eyed him warily. "Qin Budai?" He felt there was something off about the person in front of him.

Qin Budai said, "I only need five minutes. I'll be quick." As he spoke, he squeezed his way through Lin Qiushi's bedroom door.

Lin Qiushi noticed his motions, and took a step back, moving into a defensive position. "Do you need something?"

Qin Budai watched Lin Qiushi. In his eyes surfaced an indescribable hunger.

Goosebumps. Lin Qiushi, "Qin Budai?"

Qin Budai, "I…"

But before he'd finished speaking, he was already lunging at Lin Qiushi.

Though Lin Qiushi had been prepared, Qin Budai still ran into him straight on with great force, knocking Lin Qiushi flat onto the bed.

Lin Qiushi, "Qin—"

Just as the name left his lips, Qin Budai's fingers gripped tight over his mouth. This wasn't the strength of a human at all—Qin Budai could force down all of Lin Qiushi's struggling with a single hand. Lin Qiushi's eyes widened, watching Qin Budai's covetous gaze fixate on his neck.

"Just one taste," Qin Budai spoke lightly. "I'll just have one taste…" He bent down, and began lapping along Lin Qiushi's chin.

Lin Qiushi remembered the slab of meat that Qin Budai tore apart the night before, and began struggling anew with all his strength. But Qin Budai's strength made his efforts seem like a mayfly throwing itself against the trunk of a tree.

Qin Budai, staring at Lin Qiushi's throat, swallowed. He parted his lips, revealing the white rows of teeth, and went to bite…

"Mmph…" Lin Qiushi continued to fight.

Just as he felt the cold touch of Qin Budai's teeth, there came knocking at the door. Fear peering through his expression, Qin Budai glanced at the door.

Dong, dong, dong. The knocks continued.

Lin Qiushi met Qin Budai's gaze. He'd thought that now somebody was here, Qin Budai would release him—but instead, there was resolution in Qin Budai's eyes.

"Sorry," Qin Budai spoke lowly right next to Lin Qiushi's ear. "You look too appetizing. I really… can't help it anymore. Even if I'm discovered, I don't want to let go…" His teeth remained on Lin Qiushi's neck, and began to apply pressure.

Lin Qiushi's eyes shot wide open as he felt the dull pain spread along his skin. He didn't think Qin Budai would actually bite.

With a loud bang!, the locked door was kicked open.

Qin Budai, lying over Lin Qiushi's body, was seized by a pair of hands, lifted up, and brutally thrown against the wall. Qin Budai shouted in pain, while Lin Qiushi fumbled to sit up in bed. He saw Ruan Nanzhu, with a chilly expression.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't speak. He approached Qin Budai, taking a green bronze ornament off a side table as he went, then grabbed Qin Budai's chin to pry his mouth open.

Terrified, Qin Budai was trembling all over.

Ruan Nanzhu's tone dipped to cold frost. He said, "if you like eating so much, have at it." Then he shoved the thing right into Qin Budai's mouth, breaking off two of Qin Budai's teeth along the way.

Qin Budai completely fainted from the pain. It was only then that Ruan Nanzhu released his hand, and returned to Lin Qiushi. There was a deep furrow in his brow, and he seemed to be in a terrible mood.

"Alright?"

Lin Qiushi, "I'm fine."

He said, "I was careless."

He hadn't thought that Qin Budai would attack him under circumstances like this. Though Chen Fei had already warned Lin Qiushi, he'd still underestimated the effect the door had on Qin Budai.

Ruan Nanzhu stared at Lin Qiushi.

Lin Qiushi was made horribly self-conscious by his gaze. He noticed it was fixed on his neck, and so reached to touch. It was only then that he noticed the teeth mark Qin Budai left on his throat… Though no skin had been broken, it still hurt.

Did this need a tetanus shot or what… As Lin Qiushi was thinking this, Ruan Nanzhu suddenly bent down over him.

Startled by Ruan Nanzhu's motions, Lin Qiushi was just about to ask what he was doing, when he caught Lin Qiushi firmly by the arms—the next moment, the spot where he'd been bitten was being roughly rubbed at. Lin Qiushi's first reaction was that Ruan Nanzhu had somehow been infected by Qin Budai's abnormal condition, and so shoved hard and shouted in pain: "Ruan Nanzhu—calm down!! It's me, it's Lin Qiushi!!"

Ruan Nanzhu bit. Only after staying there for a handful of seconds did he release the bite, looking down with satisfaction at the mark that was now covered over by his mark on Lin Qiushi's neck. Likely because he'd heard Lin Qiushi's shouts, he spoke evenly, "I know you're Lin Qiushi."

"Were you contaminated?" Lin Qiushi clasped his neck, hissing at the pain. "What did you bite me for?!"

Ruan Nanzhu spat out a single word: "Disinfection."

Lin Qiushi, "…" What the hell was wrong with Ruan Nanzhu.

After saying this, Ruan Nanzhu dragged off the fainted Qin Budai and left. Lin Qiushi looked over the mess of his room and the broken door, and for a moment didn't know what to do at all.

Qin Budai's bite hadn't torn skin, but Ruan Nanzhu's had. Lin Qiushi inspected his wound, warily wondering he needed to go get a rabies shot or something. He'd never been bitten by a person before, and so searched online for what to do.

Turned out he should've left it alone. The search left Lin Qiushi scared out of his wits, thinking he was likely going to kick it that very night.

And so bright and early the next morning Lin Qiushi rushed to the hospital. After taking a look at his wound, the doctor said, with meaning, "you youngsters need to control yourselves."

Lin Qiushi, "…" Control what, control their diets?

The doctor said, "you don't need a vaccine, just a disinfection should be fine. As long as the person who bit you doesn't have any infectious diseases there shouldn't be any problems."

Lin Qiushi, "but the search engine said…"

The doctor slapped the table. "Can you all stop going to the search engine when you're sick? Don't you just feel more terminal the more you use it?" The doctor looked maybe thirty-one, thirty-two—still quite young. He prescribed Lin Qiushi some bit of medicine, and waved him off in disgust.

Lin Qiushi returned to the mansion.

After Qin Budai was taken away last night, Lin Qiushi didn't ask what would be done with him. Today, he was nowhere to be seen. Lin Qiushi didn't see Ruan Nanzhu either, and so went to ask Chen Fei in private.

Chen Fei looked at the wound on Lin Qiushi's neck, and sighed: "It was my fault, I shouldn't have left him on his own. I thought he'd at least be able to bear it, but who knew his self-control would be so awful?"

Lin Qiushi, "so where is he now?" The way Ruan Nanzhu dragged him off last night looked like he was being taken straight to the crematorium.

"He's been sent somewhere else," Chen Fei said. "There's a place dedicated to people like him. After being affected by the doors, the way he acts in reality will be off, so he needs counseling."

Whether or not the counseling would work was another story. But this sort of person was dangerous wherever they put him. Had Ruan Nanzhu not shown up last night, Qin Budai might have straight up bitten Lin Qiushi to death.

Lin Qiushi, "oh…" He thought for a bit, before asking quietly, "and Nanzhu? How come I haven't seen him around?"

Chen Fei, "I think he went out for an errand."

Then he asked, "is your wound alright though? He broke skin. Did you get it checked out at the hospital?"

Lin Qiushi thought that no skin would've been broken had Ruan Nanzhu not given him that extra bite. And he'd claimed it was disinfection, but his bite was way harsher—it was ridiculous. Not that Lin Qiushi said any of this out loud. He only shook his head to indicate he was alright, and that he'd already been to the hospital.

After that, Qin Budai disappeared from the mansion.

With great synchronicity, nobody asked where he'd gone. Even Cheng Qianli, who was least capable of reading people, didn't mention him again.

They all seemed already prepared for sudden goodbyes.

Only three days after the incident did Lin Qiushi see Ruan Nanzhu again. At that point his wound had scabbed over. He came in from walking Toast with Cheng Qianli, and saw Ruan Nanzhu sitting in the living room eating some fruit.

Hearing their footsteps, Ruan Nanzhu only glanced up, looking them over with a placid gaze.

"Ruan-ge, you're back," Cheng Qianli greeted happily.

"Mh," Ruan Nanzhu replied. Then he looked at Lin Qiushi.

For some reason, Lin Qiushi felt a bit self-conscious. He'd felt that Ruan Nanzhu had been off that night, and was still a bit strange today.

"It's healed?" Ruan Nanzhu spoke.

Lin Qiushi knew Ruan Nanzhu was asking after his wound, and nodded. "It's healed."

"Oh," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Maybe Lin Qiushi was overthinking it, but he thought he heard a hint of disappointment in Ruan Nanzhu's tone.

Lin Qiushi continued, "thank you for that night…" Had it not been for Ruan Nanzhu, he would likely be dead already.

Ruan Nanzhu, "don't worry about it."

Lin Qiushi hesitated. "Qin Budai, will he get better?"

Ruan Nanzhu slowly chewed the fruit in his mouth, swallowed, and then answered Lin Qiushi's question: "I don't know. He determines his own fortune."

Lin Qiushi, "things like this had happened before?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "like clockwork."

Lin Qiushi didn't think he'd get this sort of answer.

"Out of a hundred newbies, ninety-nine will develop mental conditions." Ruan Nanzhu stood. "The last one is Cheng Qianli."

Hearing this off to the side, Cheng Qianli looked confused, and asked, "what do you mean the last one is Cheng Qianli?"

Affectionately, Lin Qiushi petted Cheng Qianli's head. "Nothing, Ruan-ge's just complimenting you."

Cheng Qianli, "oh. Heheheh."

Lin Qiushi thought that to be on the same level of foolish as Cheng Qianli was actually not so easy…

"Prepare yourself," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Cheng Yixie's ninth door is opening soon."

Lin Qiushi's heart jolted. "I'm going too?"

Ruan Nanzhu, "you don't want to go?"

Lin Qiushi, "I… I don't know…"

But Ruan Nanzhu didn't force it, only spoke evenly, "it's fine if you don't want to. You have three days to think about it."

Lin Qiushi nodded in acceptance.

Once he'd said this, Ruan Nanzhu turned and left. Watching him go, Cheng Qianli said he didn't know why, but he felt that recently, the feeling Ruan-ge gave off was different than before.

Lin Qiushi asked, "what's different about it?" To tell the truth, after going through the Qin Budai incident, he realized he was too complacent in the real world. Had this been inside the doors, he'd have never let Qin Budai in.

"I don't know." Cheng Qianli scratched at his foolish head. "I can't really say…"

Lin Qiushi eyed Cheng Qianli, and for a moment fretted how the boy before him was supposed to pass through the rest of those doors. He could too easily imagine Cheng Yixie, with his heart completely broken with worry for his foolish younger brother.

Author's Note:

I'm taking advantage of the good weather today to wash my cat. Everybody wish blessings of peace upon me.

[Ch. 69] | [Ch. 71]

[jabbagabba]

La La Land

Read Prologue, One

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, gaslighting (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: Spoilers (up to episode 7, just to be safe) cheesy sitcom talk, the fifties, the ‘dinner table’ scene, The nickname ‘kiddo’

Oh, Kiddo

“Uh oh.” You didn’t need to check the recipe book to know that cookies weren’t suppose to make smoke invade the inside of the oven.

“Still better then the last batch.” Wanda said, a small cough falling from her mouth as you tipped the burnt treats into a small bin under the counter.

The sight of the now empty tray made you sigh sadly, the burnt pieces of dough was going to take decades to scrub off!

“I’m sorry about the tray.” You let it drop into the sink. “I promise, as soon as mom comes back, I’ll get you a new one.”

Wanda scoffed playfully, a point of her finger making the tray levitate in front of her. “Don’t be silly, kiddo!” You watched in awe as it turned back to its shiny silver. “I have an amazing cleaner.” You both giggle.

“Well I should at least do the dishes myself.” The sight of Wanda trying to argue made you hold your hand up in silent protest “No, no. You aren’t the only one who has hands.”

“You wash, I dry?” The perfect compromise.

The kitchen fell into peaceful silence except for the bubbly soap that filled the sink. It was the perfect start of a new day (maybe not for the oven) and you couldn’t help smile at the warmth that swelled through you.

“Busy hands make the heart grow fonder” Your mother’s words echoed inside of you as you finished the final dish.

The thought didn’t stay for long before the sound of a plate breaking made you jump, turning quickly as it hit the floor.

“My wife and her flying sources.” Vision quipped as the last of the shattered plate fell off his shoulder, dressed in a respectable suit and dress shoes.

“My husband and his indestructible head.” Wanda replied with a teasing smile. The perfect couple was a sight to behold as you grabbed the glass from the air above her and placed it back in the cuboard.

“Aren’t we a fine pair?” Vision gave his a wife a small kiss on the head and turned to you with a small smile. “Good morning, Kiddo.” You greeted him, drying your hands on the skirt of your dress. “I’m starting to think you came with the house.” Wanda chuckled.

“Mom will be back soon, I promise, the house will be teenage free before you know it.”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” He lets the newspaper in his hand slide across the countertop. “I’m only teasing.”

“What do you say to silver dollar pancakes, crispy hash browns, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and black coffee?” Wanda’s words made your mouth water, it felt as though you hadn’t eaten in days and a full breakfast was just what you needed.

“I say. ‘Oh, I don’t eat food.’” He smiled.

“Well, that explains the empty refrigerator.” Her words confused you. There wasn’t even the carton of milk you were sure was there earl-

“Wanda?” Vision’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, she simply hummed in question.

“Is there something special about today?”

“Well, I know the apron is a bit much, dear, but I am doing my best to blend in.” You watch as she crosses the kitchen.

“No, no, there on the calander. Someone’s drawn a little heart right above today’s date.” He lets his chin rest on her head while you move closer to see. Sure enough, there it was.

“Oh, yes.” Wanda said with tense shoulders. “The heart.” She looked over at you for some guidance, the confused look she saw didn’t help calm her nerves. “Well, don’t tell me you have forgotten, Vis.” She turned in his arms with a look of accusation and hands laid on her hips.

“Forgotten?” He scoffed. “Oh, Wanda, I’m incapable of forgetfulness. I remember everything. That’s not an exaggeration. In fact, I’m incapable of exaggeration.”

“Well, then tell me what’s so important about today’s date.”

You had to stifle a laugh when you looked at him; mouth blown out like a fish and eyes wide, a stern look from Wanda made you cover it with a cough.

“What was the question again?” Vision turned quickly. “Oh, well. Perhaps, you’ve forgotten yourself.”

“Me? Heavens, no. I’ve been so looking forward to it.” You let Vision pass you, choosing to keep to yourself and take a sit at the table.

“As have I.” He said proudly with arms folded. “Today we are celebrating...”

Why were you so hungry?

“You bet we are...”

Why were you always, so hungry?

“It’s the first time we....have ever celebrated this occasion before.”

“It’s a.... special day!”

Something doesn’t feel right

“Perhaps an evening... of great significance...”

Can you feel her clawing?

“Kiddo?” Her voice makes you jump in your seat, letting out a small hiss from hitting your knee underneath the table. “You alright?”

“I...” Silly you, always dozing off. “I’m just peachy keen, Wanda!” A series of knocks on the door makes her pause and you’re quick to stand. “I’ll get it!”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that...” She trailed behind you, a polite smile on her face as you open the door.

You barley grab the large plant that’s shoved in your face, the woman breezing past you with her hand out.

“Hello. dear, I’m Agnes. Your neighbour to the right.” Wanda lets out a awkward laugh but takes her hand anyway. “My right, not yours.” She’s loud and very, very talkative. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother in-law was in town, so I wasn’t.”

You pull the plant away from you with a huff. Wanda gives you an apologetic look, grabbing it from your hands, both of you watching as Agnes makes her way through.

“So, what’s your name? Where are you from, and most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?”

Very talkative indeed.

Wanda laughs as she crosses the room -leaving you to close the door - and sent Agnes a friendly smile.

“I’m Wanda.” She gestures to you over the woman’s shoulder. “And we call her ‘Kiddo’.”

“Easier that way.” You add as you smooth out your skirt once more, choosing to sit on the edge of the couch. Agnes turns to you with a smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear!” You wave her off with another friendly smile. “Wanda, Kiddo, lovely names for two lovely ladies.” You all share a small giggle.

“Golly.” Agnes’ eyes scan the room. “You settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?”

“I sure did.” You wanted nothing but to rip off that stupidly large bow off that equally obnoxious plant, but you didn’t want to be rude. “Those boxes don’t move themselves.” Agnes chuckled and you were itching to move it from the table Wanda placed it on.

“So what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house? With a daughter no less.” You and Wanda were quick to explain.

“I’m not her daughter.” You move back as her dress skirt fills your vision, looking over at Wanda. “Just visiting.”

“I’m married.” She added with a gleeful shine in her eyes.

“Oh, I don’t see a ring.”

“Well, I assure you I’m married.” She covers her hand with the other. “To a man. A human one and tall.”

Agnes was a very suffocating presence; her dress bold and checker patterned, your polka dots looked rather bland compared to it and when she took a seat next to you - practically in your lap at one point of readjusting - you had never felt so small.

“As a matter of fact, he’ll be home later tonight for a special occasion. Just the two of us.”

“Oh, is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not a birthday.”

“Well today isn’t a holiday, is it?”

Were there any holidays in March? You - like most days - were left completely blank.

“No, it’s not a holiday...” Wanda’s hands fidget, you couldn’t help but join, opting to pick at a thread on your sleeve.

Today was.... hmm, what was today? You tried to remember if Vision or Wanda spoke of anything special, but nothing really stood out from the crowd.

“An anniversary then?”

“Ye... yes!” The relief on her face was almost comical. “Yes! It’s our anniversary!” Agnes couldn’t hide her excitement, grabbing your hand mid pull of the thread and held another one for Wanda to take.

“Oh, how marvellous.” She turned forward, putting both of your hands in her lap as Wanda joined on the couch. “How many years?”

“Well, it feels like we’ve always been together.”

“Lucky gal.” Agnes shook your hand with a smile. “Isn’t it just, having such a wonderful influence like that?” Wanda blushed. “The only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named ‘June 2nd’. “ At least she was entertaining, right? “So, what do you have planned?”

“How do you mean?”

“For your special night. A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still nice to set the scene.” You and Wanda shared a glance as Agnes turned once more. “Say, I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article -“ She gave you both a playful slap on the thigh as she stood. “- called ‘How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband,’ and let me tell you, what Ralph could really use is, ‘How To Goose Your Wife So You Don’t Lose Your Wife’.”

Maybe you were just a bad judge of character or you were simply just insecure, but Agnes, to her credit, had quickly found a way to pull on your hearstrings in a perfect way.

Or maybe she was just very funny.

“Hang on. I’ll go grab it and we can start planning.” She turned to you before leaving and pointed a perfectly manicured finger. “Now, I hope you don’t have plans, Kiddo! Suducing a man is a lesson no school could teach you, Though a pretty gal like you shouldn’t need a whole lot.” She laughed and you couldn’t help but feel the warm rush to your cheeks at the compliment. “Oh, this is gonna be a gas!”

With a final giggle and smile, Agnes was gone. You moved closer to Wanda as she let out a happy sigh.

“Before she comes back,” She turns to you fully. “- can I throw that horrid plant out?”

———

“-and you don’t have a song? Nothing special you played at your weddding?” Agnes asked, the magazine sitting on her lap.

“No, nothing special.” That seemed to be the go to answer for Wanda; no song, no inside joke and not even a favourite date. Maybe that was the new era of marriage?

“I’ll just loan you some records then.” Agnes said before pointing to the notepad in your hand. “Mark that off the list, Kiddo.” You nodded and did just that. “What are we up to?”

“We’ve got wardrobe, music and...” God, you had horrible handwriting. “Oh, decor!” Agnes let out a happy hum and looked back at the article.

“Hmm... oh, what about seduction techniques?”

“Oh, I have those.” The loud chuckle made Wanda frown, suddenly unsure.

Agnes was really good at that.

“Of course, you do.”

“Just out of curiosity, what does it say?” You both leaned in, the chair you were sitting on unfortunately made it impossible to see over her shoulder.

“That you should stumble when you walk into a room so he can catch you. It’s romantic.”

“Any other tricks?”

“You could point out that the death rate of single men is twice that of married men.” She suggested with a smirk.

“Now, that’s romantic.” The shared laughter is quick to die down when the phone rings. “Oh.” Agnes hands you a glass of apple cider, a small enough glass to blur the moral line of underage drinking, and raised hers with a grin.

“Drink up, dear.”

“Vision residents.” Wanda said politely over the phone, the voice of her husband making her grin. “Vision, sweetheart.” You had to stop yourself from grimacing at the bitterness of the drink, not a hint of apple was in it. Alcohol was truely disgusting.

“Don’t worry, dear. I have everything under control.” She turned towards you both with a knowing smile, debating whether or not to wrap the cord around her fingers like the giddy school girl she felt like.

Agnes took another sip and clicked her tongue. “Oh! I knew you looked familiar.” She said, adverting you attention. “You’re Lori’s girl, aren’t you?” You couldn’t explain why your stomach dropped. “Lovely woman, real smart cookie. Didn’t she want to be an actress or a.... hmm, oh....um -“

“A journalist.” The bitterness of the cider in that moment seemed like heaven, and you downed the rest in one go. Agnes giggled and nodded.

“That’s right, a journalist, very modern.” The conversation died after that, instead filled with tonight’s plan for Wanda. But even when you laughed and giggled along, deciding which record of Agnes’ to put on, that pit of dread remained.

You just wanted to know why.

———

So maybe baking wasn’t your strong suit, or even a decent hobby, but you did know how to set a mood. The candlight that filled the living room and the smell of vanilla (Agnes had enough of it to make you dizzy) was just the right amount of sweetness and romance.

“All done!” You call with a proud smile on your face. You turned as Wanda peaked her head out from the kitchen door.

“Aw, Kiddo, what would I do without you?” She had her hair curled to perfection, and makeup that made her look like a porcelain doll. She was the perfect wife and you had to admit, Agnes was right about you taking notes. “Are you sure you’ll get home okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” You grab your coat from the dining chair and give her a final smile. “Have fun.” She disappears back in the kitchen and you try to hide the knowing smirk on your face as you hear the front door. “I know, I know, I’ll be gone in two min-“

“You never told me you had kids.” A male voice, one you had never heard before, interrupted you. Your coat buttons were long forgotten as the couple strolled in; Vision looking just as horrified and confused as you.

“I... uh.”

“I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner, Kiddo.” Vision said with a nervous laugh. “Mr. Hart, this is my...”

“Cousin. Just flew in.” You can’t stop your hands from fidgeting as Vision nods.

“Yes! Yes, my cousin, Kiddo.”

“You’re name is ‘Kiddo’?” Mr. Hart is hostile, and his wife has to slap his shoulder when he glares at you.

“Oh stop it, it’s a lovely name.” She steps from behind her husband and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, how every atmospheric.” You forced a polite smile, blowing out one of the candles when she turns.

“What’s going on here, Vision? You blow a fuse?”

“Why don’t you take a seat...” You are quick to grab onto Vision’s hand and pull towards you with a smile. “And we’ll go and fetch the lady of the house.” Vision almost trips on the way to the kitchen behind you, you were a lot stronger then you looked.

“What’s going on?” This was not at all what you thought was going to happen. Maybe you had too much cider? “Where is she?” Vision didn’t wait for you to answer, already out of the kitchen before you could even think of a answer. “Wanda!” She was only there a moment ago.

“Vision.” Her smile fades to horror and she’s quick to move her hands away from Mr. Hart. “Oh! Oh!” She looks back and fourth from Vision and the Harts. When she caught glimpse of you, she nearly fainted, covering her chest as her cheeks bloomed a bright red.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Well, what is... yeah, what is the meaning of...” His stammering wasn’t helping, at all, to calm anyone’s confusion. “Oh, the meaning of it! You want to know the meaning of it.... and the meaning of it is that this is the traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality.” Wanda nodded, quickly making her way over as Vision covered her eyes. “Guess who?”

“Is that my host behind me?” She faked a laugh and you chose to find interest in your shoes.

“It certainly is.”

“Lovely to make you acquaintance.”

“Yes!” You wished the floor would suck you down to a hole in the ground, the awkwardness almost suffocating. “See, I forgot to tell you my wife is from Europe.” You look up with a grin as Vision put a hand on your shoulder. “And... so is my cousin.”

“Oh, how exotic!” Mrs. Hart said with a grin of her own, how on earth did they buy that?

“We don’t break bread with Bolsheviks.” Her husband grumbled.

“Oh, hush, Arthur!” She slapped his chest playfully with a chuckle. “Have you no culture at all ? And that dress!”

“Yes! It’s... “ Vision can’t help but take a double take at his wife’s appearance. “It’s so... Sokovian, Is what it is! Yes!”

“Can I just see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?” Wanda was light and fast on her feet, making sure to pull the fabric from a lamp before going to the kitchen.

“Oh, Yes!” Vision gestures to the candles and follows his wife.

You turn to the couple, with the brightest smile you can muster.

“Please.” You say with arms wide. “Take a seat, make yourselves comfortable.” The minute they reach the couch and sit, you get to work on the candles. You only get five done before Vision barrels through the door.

“Can you help Wanda? She’s just... “ Mrs. Hart glances over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “- finishing dinner.”

You are quick to excuse yourself.

———

“Oh, where is she?” Wanda tightens her apron for the third time, eyes glued to the door. She had changed from the silk, now wearing a modest evening dress.

“Oh, thank heavens!” Agnes had barley even walked past the window and Wanda, wasting no time, opened the back door wide. “Oh, Agnes! You’re a life-saver.”

“What kind of housewife would I be if I didn’t have a gourmet meal for five just lying about the place?” Both you and Wanda grab for the various tins and trays, trying to save the poor woman’s arms. “Not that Ralph ever wants to eat anything but baked beans which explains a lot about his personal hygiene, mind you.”

“I can take that.” You weren’t expecting her to drop the large pot so carelessly, not being able to catch it in time as it hit your foot with loud bang on the floor. “Ow.”

“Oh, my!” Agnes dropped to her knees, wiping off your shoe and picking up the pot and lid. “Butter fingers.” You chuckle and wave it off.

“It’s okay.” She gives you a bright smile and placing everything properly on the bench.

“- sure she’s absolutely fine in there!” The sound of Vision’s voice booms through the kitchen, a warning that made you both flustered.

“Oh, thank you, Agnes. I think we’ve got it covered from here.” Wanda said, placing her hands on the woman’s back and pushing gently.

“Are you sure dear?” Agnes asked, getting a small “mhmm” back from her. “Many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip.”

“You’re so naughty.” Wanda scolds playfully, you were kept busy with unpacking several vegetables from her wicker basket.

“Oh, shall I pre-heat the oven then, dear?” The witch was quick to steer her around from it as you moved out of the way.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh, alright then. Well I know you’re in a pinch so this menu can be done in a snap.” Agnes made sure to snap her fingers, always one for the theatrics. “Lobster Thermidor with mini-minced turnovers to start.” She moved back towards the counter, Wanda letting out a breath as she followed. “Chicken à la king with twice-cooked new potatos for your second course.” She gave you a pat as she passed you. “And steak Diane and mint jellies for your main.”

Wanda had to move back as Agnes turned once more, finger inches from her face. “Do you set you own jellies, dear?” You both nod. “Good girls.” Wanda grabs her waist again and pushed but as she inches from the outside, she calls out to you. “Recipe cards are on the counter.”

Wanda closes the door, hands up as you read one of the cards.

“So, I guess we should start with-“

“No time, Kiddo.” With a flick of her wrist; every cuboard opened and you had to duck your head down to advoid getting hit with a frying pan. “Sorry.”

The kitchen quickly was in complete chaos; the smell of various veggies and seasonings overwhelmed your senses, and while you tried desperately to grab a wooden spoon from the air to stir, the kitchen bar devider opened.

Yeah, take out the papers and the trash, or you won’t get no spending cash

You and Wanda both watched in a mix of confusion and fear, apparently Vision could sing. You reached up on your toes once more and pulled the spoon down with a satisfied grin.

If You don’t scrub the kitchen floor, you ain’t gonna rock and roll no more

Oh, right. Mrs. Hart was inches away from a stressed out witch and her teenage sidekick surrounding by levitating kitchen supplies.

Time to close the shutters.

Yakety yak! Don’t talk back

You closed them with a sharp slam.

———

The past ten minutes had to be on the list of “worst moments ever” of your life, the world felt a little too off center and you had to remind yourself that breathing wasn’t just a personal choice. Wanda wasn’t doing too great either; the chicken went from borderline ash to newly laid eggs, it was starting to feel a little too warm in here. If you weren’t panicking so much, you might have remembered that the large coat you wore that had wool lining was easily removable.

“How’s the potatos, Kiddo?” Wanda turned to you with a frown at your apparence; you were covered in flour and unmoving from the corner, bowl in hand and eyes shinny.

“Am I moving?” You ask.

“No.” She gently grabs the bowl from your hands, grimacing at the mush inside and pulling you to the table. “Why don’t you have a seat? Hmm, take a few deep breaths and just re- oh no!” It was too late to save the cream from spilling on the floor.

Wanda almost wanted to join you at the table.

“Oh, what was I supposed to do next? What was the main course again?” She let the cards float around her, hands quickly turning them.”it was... steak.” Wrong card. “No. Steak...steak Diane!”

“Yes?!” You manage to look over at the closed blinds, Vision’s voice following again soon after. “I’m just coming... Fred.”

Wanda - after taking her own advice - had finally managed to put the kitchen back in order, all pots and pans back perfectly in their cupboards. You were finally calming down, able take a minute to process as she floated the lobster to the pot of boiling water.

But both of you felt the familiar panic burn through your veins when someone came rushing in from the living room, Wanda letting out a startled gasp and throwing the meat out the window. It was only after the window slammed shut that you realised it was just Vision.

“How can I be of assistance?” He asked with huff. Funny, you wouldn’t think a robot would need to take a breather.

“Well, the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop so the steak is the last man standing.” Wanda replied, grabbing the recipe card from the counter. “It says here I can cut down the prep time with a meat tenderizer.”

“Excellent plan. Where’s the tenderizer?”

“I’m looking at him.” He gingerly took the mallet with a small “ah” and was forced to look up when the divider opened once more.

“Hoo-hoo in there!” Mrs. Hart’s head popped in and Wanda was quick to move, almost ruining the poor woman’s curls when she closed it.

“Hoo-hoo back to you!” She pulls at the strings of her apron with a sigh. “Finish the meat, find the lobsters.” She turned to you. “Lose the coat, Kiddo.” Her apron is pulled from her hips and Vision barley catches it. “We’ll be right back.”

You stand, pulling off the emerald green coat. One look at your dress and Wanda lets out a gasp.

“Can’t go out like that.” She grabbed the coat from you and folded it on your chair, the dress was covered and she had hoped that the coat would have been an effective shield.

“I can go home and change.” You say with a wipe of your cheek. Wanda stops you from moving.

“No, allow me.” She clicks her fingers and - with a dramatic puff of smoke - your old dress is replaced with a beautiful turquoise one, white lining on the collar and floral skirt to match. It was gorgeous. “Perfection. Now, lets go.”

You give a quick “sorry” at the door, startling Mrs. Hart as you trail behind your frazzled friend.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She said with a smile.

“Starved, is more like it.” Mr. Hart replied as he pushed off the couch, a frown permanently placed on his face.

“My head is starting to feel woozy.” A low growl from your stomach seemed to agree with Mrs. Hart, luckily a loud bang from the kitchen covered the sound.

“Were either of you aware that married men are killing single men at an alarming rate?” Wanda’s hands never stopped moving, and the nervous chuckle only made Mr. Hart more frustrated.

“What are you going on about?” Another loud bang made you all jump and you had to stop yourself from cursing. “And what’s going on in there?” You luckily didn’t have to stop him from moving as Wanda fell ontop of him, his hands catching her by the arms.

The room seemed to spin, things were moving so quickly you could barley keep up. Wanda was still in the man’s arms when a loud knocking filled the room, you were sure you were going to faint.

“Who could that be?” Wanda practically ran to the door, happy for the distraction and Vision was quick on her heels. Mrs. Hart pulled at your sleeve, a kind smile on her face.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I... uh,” The words got lost in your mouth. Could everyone just calm down for a second? The slam of the door forced you both out of the small moment.

“Who was that?” Her husband asked.

“A salesman”

“Telegram!” Vision felt the glare of Mr. Hart. “A man selling telegrams.”

“Wouldn’t you know it.” Wanda added, hands behind her back. “Good news is more expensive.” You couldn’t hear what Vision said after that, but by the way his wife frowned and pulled her apron off him, it must’ve been yet another problem. She glided past you, the sight of a pineapple behind her back didn’t answer any questions, but you let her go on her way regardless.

“Well.” Vision said, hands on his hips proudly. “I think tonight’s going swimmingly. Anyone for Parcheesi?”

“My head is spinning.” Mrs. Hart replied, feet dragging her to the couch.

“Oh, Mrs. Hart -“ You grabbed her arm, gently helping her down as Vision fanned her face.

“Did you hear that? My wife’s head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You could feel the annoyance radiating off him. “You know, I’m beginning to think you’re not management material, Vision.”

“Sir, if you could just wait a few -“ The glare he gave almost made your knees buckle, looking at Vision for help as he continued.

“You know, I had high hopes for you. But from what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barley keep it together. I mean, look around.” He gestured around him with his hands. “There’s all the chaos going on in your household. Now, when are we gonna eat?”

“Dinner is served.”

Oh, thank God.

The table behind you was set to perfection; each plate the perfect distance apart, and each with a set of cutlery and wine glass. You’re stomach was growling and you were quick to move to your seat - the only glass filled with some kind of juice - and gave Wanda a grateful smile.

“Breakfast for dinner? How very-“

“European.” Mrs. Hart interrupted, eyes glued to the table.

“Ohh! Let’s have a toast!” Vision moves to his end of the table, the Harts following as you raise your glass. “To my lovely and talented wife.”

“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda adds with a smile. You all clink your glasses with a small “cheers” and take a sip of the juice. It was sugary sweet, but did nothing to fill your belly. “Well, please eat before it gets cold.”

You don’t have to be told twice; sitting besides Mrs. Hart - who Vision was quick to offer a chair to like a gentleman - and letting your napkin rest on your thighs.

“So,” She said as everyone settled properly in their seats. “Where did you two move from?” She grabbed her napkin. “What brought you here?” You cut a small piece of the sausage and raised it to your mouth. “How long have you been married? And why don’t you have children yet?” Wanda let out a small laugh, so many questions!

“I think what my wife means to say is that we moved from...” You took another bite, warmth filling your body, and it took everything in to not gulp down the whole plate.

“Yes, we moved from...” Wanda’s face was a exact mirror of her husband’s, both struggling with empty memory.

“And we were married...”

You couldn’t stop eating, fork always full of egg and toast, the conversation becoming background noise.

“Yes, yes, we were married in...”

“Well? Moved from where ? Married when?” Mr. Hart’s voice snapped you back, another bite and you swallowed it down with a gulp of juice, eyes now between each end of the table.

“Now, patience, Arthur. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.” His wife waved him off with a smile and bite of food. Wanda stumbled once more, her fumbling only causing the tension to rise.

“Yes, what exactly is your story?”

“Oh, just leave the poor kids alone.” You took another sip, gagging as you felt something on your tongue.

“No, really, I mean,” It was slimy and thin, and as you pulled it out with your fingers, confusion filled you at the sight of a brown leaf. “I think it’s a perfectly simple question. Honestly.” It dropped to your plate and you picked up the almost empty glass, the bottom was a dark orange, and the hundreds of little pieces floating in it made you feel sick. “Why did you come here? Why?”

Something’s Wrong

Mr. Hart slammed his hand down on the table, startling you to the point of completey dropping your glass, juice staining the carpet by your feet. You were left helpless as you stared at the man in front of you.

“Damn it, why? Why did you...” The air from his lungs vanishes, face turning red as he chokes.

“Oh, Arthur, stop it.”

Why won’t you move?

“Stop it.”

This doesn’t make sense

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

Mr. Hart grips the table, letting out another failed attempt of breath before vanishing under it, still chocking.

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.”

This is wrong, all wrong

“Stop it.”

I want to go home

“Vision, help him.”

And just like that, the world makes sense again.

You let out a shaky laugh as Vision helps the man up from the floor. You take one more bite of food as Mr. Hart checks his watch with a sigh.

“Well, would you look at the time?”

“Yes. We’d better be going.” Mrs. Hart replies, standing as you follow suit, making sure to tuck your chair in.

“Well... are you both alright?” Wanda asks, giving you a small smile as they walk to the door.

“We had such a lovely time.” She turns quickly and wraps her hands around Wanda’s eyes. “This guest is leaving your home.” She laughs.

“Yes, thank you for coming.”

You pay them no mind; body moving passed them on autopilot, you didn’t care to hear them say goodbye, didn’t care when Mr. Hart told Vision about a promotion, or when Wanda offered you the guest bedroom since it was just “too late to walk home alone, you didn’t care.

And when you finally slipped into the covers, eyes shutting as sleep took hold of you, you finally felt at peace.

Your mind was yours, and yours alone for the first time that day, and you wanted nothing more then to wake up under the star-lights in your bedroom.

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @fruitiseavey

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read

Off to the sixties we go

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Eight

Chapter Title: Wild One 8/? Wattpad

"Arthur wants you to what?" Dutch demands as he paces in front of his tent. There's a vein in his forehead that probably makes him self-conscious. You figure it's best not to mention it.

"He wants me to help rescue Sean," you say from where you lounge on a tree stump. A butterfly floats toward your face, and you absently reach out for it. "Sounds like a good time."

The butterfly lands on your finger, tickling your skin as it walks. You watch its wings flutter with the soft breeze. Meanwhile, Dutch is talking, talking, talking. You've come to realize he does that a lot.

"Y/N." He massages his temples. "You're not listening, are you?"

"Hm?" You wiggle your finger so the butterfly does a little dance.

Dutch sighs. If it's one thing you enjoy more than, well, being in the past, it's annoying him. Smiling, you let the butterfly fly away and turn to face Dutch completely. He's watching you, expression stern and undeniably fatherly. It takes all you have not to roll your eyes.

"I can't stay cooped up in camp for forever," you say. "I'm gonna go crazy."

There's a brief moment where Dutch looks like he's considering this, but then he shakes his head.

"These ain't O'Driscoll's you'll be dealing with, Y/N." He gives you another stern look. "They're bounty hunters. They ain't dumb."

Neither am I, you think, but instead blurt out: "I killed an O'Driscoll, ya know. I can handle myself."

Had Dutch been smoking a cigar, it would have dropped from his mouth. He gapes at you, and you mentally kick yourself for letting that slip. Right. Arthur hadn't told him about Six Point Cabin... well, all of it, anyways.

"When did that happen?" Dutch demands.

You chew your lip. "Uh..."

"No no," he holds his hands up. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Dutch goes quiet for a moment, debating with himself. You watch him, hoping you know what's going to come next.

"For rescuing Sean," he eventually says, "you stay right by Arthur. If I find out you so much as left his sight, so help me, I'll shoot you both."

You grin. "Okay."

"Understood?"

"Yep."

At that, Dutch seems satisfied. After giving you one long, long look, he sighs and walks off, muttering something under his breath that you don't quite catch. You smile to yourself. Another win in your direction.

.

.

.

Fifteen minutes sees you bored as all hell. As it turns out, you're not going to be rescuing Sean for another day or so, which means you have too much time on your hands. When that happens, you get twitchy. Boredom was awful in your time, and it's awful now.

You heave a sigh and sit down on a tree stump. Everybody else in camp has their own stuff to do. It seems like, once again, you're the odd one out.

But then you spy Arthur hauling haybales to the horses. Instantly sitting up straighter, you watch as he lifts them effortlessly, as if they weigh nothing and not a thousand pounds each. You wonder what it would be like for him to life you like that. The thought makes you smile. Arthur Morgan: the man with the strongest arms and the softest heart.

"—Y/N?"

You barely stifle a shriek and leap up from the tree stump. How and when Arthur came to stand by you, you don't know, but he's there now. And he's watching you, clearly waiting for a response.

"Uh," you stammer. "What'd'ya say?"

"I asked if you're okay," he says. "You were staring off into space."

You try not to look guilty. "Guess I was just daydreaming."

Arthur gives you a smile. "Must've been some dream," he tells you.

You think back to him hauling the haybales and find yourself grinning despite everything.

"It was," you eventually murmur. Then, blushing furiously, you amend: "But hey: dreams are dreams."

There's a mortifying moment where you think he's going to press for more, but luckily, Arthur just shrugs and lets it go. You sigh in relief as he walks away. The last thing you need is for him to figure out, well, everything.

Turning around, you head for Pearson's wagon to help out with the dishes, only to mow over Abigail, who's doing the same.

"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry," you stammer as you help her up from the ground. "I was so distracted. Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry."

"Y/N," she interrupts with a laugh, "I'm fine. You don't gotta apologize so much."

"Sorry." You kick yourself. "I mean... okay?"

Abigail laughs again and steers you toward Pearson's wagon. "What's on your mind? You've been acting funny all day. Well..." she smirks, "funnier than usual, anyway."

You think back to your conversation with Arthur and glance over to where he's saddling Florence for a ride into town. If you're honest with yourself, he's what's on your mind... has been for a while.

You look away. No need to do or say something stupid.

"Nothing," you lie. "Just trying to adjust to the past, I guess."

Abigail raises an eyebrow. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

"I'm not lying."

A grin lights up her face as she apparently connects the dots. Giving you a look to rival all looks, Abigail says: "You fancy Arthur, don't you, Y/N?"

You feel your cheeks heating up again. If Abigail can see through you so easily... can Arthur?

"Your secret's safe with me," she reassures when she sees your expression. "And don't worry: Arthur's pretty oblivious when it comes to this sort of thing."

You try your best not to look over as Arthur leaves camp. There's just something about him... you can't really say for sure what it is. Honestly, don't want to try; the mystery is almost the best part.

"Thanks," you tell Abigail. And you mean it.

She smiles gently at you and guides you toward Pearson's wagon again. "Don't mention it."

With the two of you working together, you manage to finish the dishes in under a half hour. Pearson thanks you, then mentions that the camp could use some more supplies. Thinking back to your last hunting trip, you shrug. There aren't any bears around Horseshoe Overlook, so really, the worst that can happen is you just get lost.

Then again... maybe a fishing trip by the river might be a better idea. Guns still freak you out. Not only that, but you haven't watched enough survival shows to know how to make snare traps and whatnot. Besides: if it's you versus a wild animal, you have a pretty good idea who'll win.

You don't really feel like asking anyone to come with you, so you borrow a fishing pole from Pearson and head down to the river. It's quiet, certainly quieter than the future. As you cast out, you find yourself thinking about your own time. It's been at least a few months since the Van Der Linde gang found you, a few months since you magically appeared in the Grizzlies. You don't remember how you got there. Hell, you don't remember what you were doing in the moments leading up to it, either. One minute, you were in your own time, the next... you weren't.

It's... odd, all things considered. Every problem you had in the future seems so far away. And you suppose they are. Over a century's worth of distance (if time can be measured that way), and here you are, fishing—fishing—at a river you're not even sure exists in your time.

You shake your head. You'll give yourself an existential crisis at this rate, and that won't help anybody. Plopping yourself down in the mud, you settle down to wait however long it takes for a fish to take the bait.

You can't help but wonder who's really in control of whom.

A/N: Short chapter, but I wanted to get this story updated. I know it's been a while, but I want to thank everyone who's stuck with me. Means a lot. I'm hoping I can get back to a weekly update, probably every Sunday.

Inspired Music: Green Day | Wild One

[anyoneseenadam]

Ahhh can u plz write some fluff with Mor? The fandom is starving AND THANK UUUU 🥰😘😍🤩😛

pairing: Morrigan x reader (acotar)

warnings; kissing and exam stress but asides from that it’s pure fluff :))

a/n: kissing girls man, hits different. this is quite short I’m sorry I have lot’s of study to do but I wanted to get something out! hope you like it <3 (this was also heavily inspired by cmbyn cause I’m re-reading it) 

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

“Or are ‘being’ and ‘having’ thoroughly inaccurate verbs in the twisted skein of desire, where having someone’s body to touch and being that someone we’re longing to touch are one and the same, just opposite banks on a river that passes us to them, back to us and over to them again in perpetual circuit.”

“Stop looking at me like that.” You said, not taking your eyes off the page in front of you, the words not quite reaching your brain, and you read the paragraph again. Your neck ached and you could feel the beginning of a headache forming in your temples, the look your girlfriend was giving you from your bed was not helping.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’ as she stood and walked over to you, slinging her arms over you shoulders and reading the meticulous notes you had been taking, her cheek pressed against your own. “Come to bed baby, you’ve been working all day and you barely slept last night.”

She was correct of course. You had final exams coming up that you had to pass if you wanted to become a qualified teacher but that meant many nights without sleep and without quality time in the arms of your lover. You had stayed up into the early hours of the morning the previous night and were up again to start working at seven. You leaned back into her warm touch, your eyes closing for a second before you forced yourself to concentrate.

“Later, I promise, I just want to finish this chapter,”

“You said that an hour ago,” you laughed and brought her hand to your mouth kissing it before pushing her away, picking up your pen and continuing with your notes. She kissed your forehead before collecting the empty dishes and mugs that were sat next to you, taking them to the kitchen to wash, you zoned out as she left, listening to her move about the kitchen, the domestic sounds soothing your hectic mind. But soon she was back, carrying two steaming mugs and with a bag of your favourite crisps under her arm. She placed everything down, smiling at the pout you had on your face, brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of your notes, your own words confusing you, before walking over to you and closing your book.

“Hey!” you whined as she picked you up, walking you to your bed and placing you down again.

“You’ve been working all day I’m sure you’ll survive,” she muttered, passing you a mug that smelled of chamomile, the relaxing flower making you sigh contentedly as you inhaled it, watching as Mor move around your room, collecting baggy clothes, pillows, and blankets. You loved seeing her like this, she was always beautiful, but when she was only wearing your over sized clothes and with her long hair piled on top of her head, face clean of makeup but glowing, you fell just a bit harder. Her natural beauty was something you almost wished you could frame, something you wanted to keep with you at all times, wishing you could always hold her to your chest tightly, fearful that if you didn’t she may leave.

She wouldn’t though, she was just as enamoured with you as you were with her. You were her sunshine, her angel and since she had first seen you she was filled with a desperate urge to protect that light. You hadn’t even met her family yet, and while she partially felt guilty for that, she simply wanted to keep you as close as she could for as long as she could, her overprotective nature making her want to keep you for herself, like a child with their favourite toy. However the bags under your eyes and your bitten, chapped lips hurt her to see, so she was determined to get her sunshine back, through a practiced method of cuddles and selfcare.

You sipped your tea as she threw an oversized sweater at you followed by your favourite shorts, before moving to the bathroom to do cauldron knows what. You placed your mug on the beaded coaster you kept on your bed side unit and changed into your clothes, before standing and moving to tidy away your books and numerous coloured pens.

“(y/n)!” you heard Mor call in a sing-song voice and you placed your books away, moving to the bathroom where you saw her triumphantly holding the face masks the two of you had impulsively bought from a recent market you went to. You smiled and went to her as she motioned you to sit in the empty bath, you giggled and did as you were told as she followed suit. When you were both sat comfortably, she straddled your waist and tied your hair away from your face gently, with so much love and care you leaned up to press a kiss against her mouth. She reciprocated quickly, lips moving against yours like a well-practiced dance, the two of you working in perfect tandem, tongues moving languidly with one another, neither of you feeling the need to rush. You slid a hand around her the back of her neck as she let a soft whimper into the kiss, making you grinn against her mouth. You had missed this, the feel of her pressed against you, the busy days you had been spending making you forget just how well you worked together, the way your breaths synced, and your limbs never got in the way, both loving the other while simultaneously being the other. Knowing exactly how the other worked. How the other moved, as if you were controlling her and she, you.

Mor pulled away, breathless, cheeks flushed, and you grinned lazily up at her, loving the effect you always had on her.

“I missed this,” she said, kissing your nose gently and gazing at you lovingly, before scooping out the creamy paste, and smearing it over your face.

“I know, I’m sorry but exams are almost over and then I’ll be all yours,” you smiled at her as she finished, wiping her hands on a wet cloth as you took the pot from her hands and massaged it onto her face as well, her sighs music to your ears. When you were finished you both stood and made your way back to your bedroom, curling into each other with your mugs as you asked her about her day.

“Honestly, I don’t know why I put up with them,” she laughed as she told you that her family were all still pestering her to meet you.

“I mean maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing,”

“Spoken like someone who hasn’t met them,” you laughed as she continued, “I mean I only came out a few months ago and I really like having something to myself, I feel like I’ve always had to share with everyone. I don’t know is that selfish?”

“No, I don’t think so. But I’m still going to be yours after I meet them, maybe we should just rip of the plaster. I’m sure none of them are nearly as charming or beautiful as you are anyway.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,”

“Well one of us has to be,” you squealed as her hand’s dugs into your sides, seeking out the points that made you squirm, desperately trying to get out of her grip, empty mugs long forgotten on the floor next to your bed and face masks washed away. You wrestled around as you tried to gain the upper hand, however the highly trained female won with ease, pressing a sloppy kiss on your cheek much to your dismay as she cheered over her victory.

She stared down at you in awe as your eyes sparkled, wondering how she managed to find the most beautiful girl in the world and somehow be lucky enough to be with her. You were in just as much awe, pushing a strand of long, blonde hair behind her ear, huffing a laugh when she nuzzled into your hand before collapsing on top of you, her face nestled in between your breasts, pressing a kiss into the right one and whispering a soft ‘I love you.’

You pulled her hair out of the bun it was in, knowing she would wake up with a headache if it remained up all night and Mor’s heart ached at the subtle display of love, the show of just how much you listened, how well you knew her. You then proceeded to massage her scalp gently as the two of you lay listening to the world moving outside, the distant chatter of people going home on the street below you or the faint music you could hear from a nearby bar lulling you into a trance like state, where the only thing that mattered was your other half, the person you loved and the person you became.

Soon you noticed Mor had fallen asleep and smiled at her cute snores, your hands continued to trail up and down her back as you too slowly drifted into a well-deserved sleep. Your heart easy, and head at peace as you lay with the girl you loved tucked safely in your arms. No one else there to separate your entwined souls. 

[strawhatpoofy]

It’s a Love-Hate Thing

characters: frat boy!hawks x f!reader, brief mentions of mirko and members of the LOV

genre: smut. nsfw. 18+

notes/warnings: frat!au, college!au, hate-sex, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol, mentions of political science (deffo the scariest thing in here), swearing uuuuh lmk if i forgot anything

words: 3.6k

If someone were to ask you how you ended up here, you would have bitterly pointed towards your now drunk roommate, Rumi. She had spent two hours begging you to accompany her to Lambda Omega Vi’s biggest party of the year: their post-rush celebration. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had an avid hatred for greek life, the LOV’s ‘brothers’ were renoundedly the douchiest boys on campus.

Yet, Rumi had pleaded with you, and bargained with dish duty. If you went, she would do all of the dishes for a month. She knew as soon as your eyes narrowed and head titled that she had you. After some fluttered lashes and a sweet pout, it was a done deal. And, damn, were you pissed.

You stood in the corner of a musty, bare living room. There was something bassy and synthetic pumping through a large speaker, and sweaty bodies mingled in the middle of the room. From the sidelines, you played a little game you had made up after your first quarter on campus.

That one is Shiggy; his lips were always chapped, and skin always parched, yet there was always a gorgeous girl attached to his arm. Jin was running the game of beer pong; people around school called him Twice, but the stories always varied as to how that name originated (you heard it was ‘cuz he gave the same girl an STD twice). As your eyes flitted around the room, your face contorted in displeasure. The LOV really was the bottom of the barrel.

That’s when you saw him. The bane of your fucking existence. Keigo fuckin’ Takami. What a prick. You had the displeasure of meeting Keigo in your second quarter Intro to Political Thought class. It was a large lecture, and you sat in the back, making sure to keep at least a few seats between you and the nearest person. You were only taking this class as a GE, and had no interest  in making friends with the poli sci majors. Of course, when Keigo came in, he plopped down in the seat right next to yours. His knee bumped yours and he had a sleazy smirk on his face.

He did that every lecture-bumped into you, lazily grinning and never saying a word unless it looked like you were about to get up and move. Then he would need a pencil, despite the one sitting on top of his notebook, or he’d ask for a piece of gum, or ask you to catch him up on the reading he didn’t do. Thus, you were trapped with him for a painful ten weeks. As the quarter progressed, so did his shameless fuckboy behavior. No matter how scathingly you shut him down, he was on you like a fungus.

When you had found out he was part of the LOV, it made everything click. Some girl had come up to him during one of your last lectures, batting her eyelashes, and when you heard her call him Hawks oh so sweetly, you didn’t let him live it down. Every time you saw him it was, hey Hawky, you absolute dumbass. He simply played along, calling you princess and his little dove with a dazzling smile each time. And fuck if it didn’t make you want to bash your head against a wall.

Thus, this is what your relationship became; any chance meetings across campus after that first class together consisted of his shameless flirting and your anti-fraternity war, which always inevitably turned into more bickering. Others would snicker when they witnessed the two of you, resulting in your heads whipping around to face whoever it was, sure to make a point of letting them know just how much you couldn’t stand each other.

So here you were, glaring at him from across his living room, while his arm was thrown around some wasted sorority girl. You nursed your cup of spiked punch, wincing at the cheap alcohol with every sip you took . Then, Keigo caught your gaze. Your eyes locked with his for far too long, but you weren’t going to back down first. Eyes narrowed, you worked your hardest to force all of your anger and hatred into your stare. But when he winked, you practically spit up your punch. You scoffed and flipped him off, turning away after drinking in his initial expression of shock.

Working your way into the kitchen, you smiled behind your cup. Damn, that felt good. Maybe it was petty, but fuck that guy. As you reached the chip bowl, you felt a hand curl around your wrist. You jumped in surprise, whipping around to see Rumi giggling and looking up at you.

“Hey (Y/N)! Hi. Ok, so I know I begged you to come with me, and I know you’re my ride. But um,” she glanced behind her and as your eyes followed her gaze, you understood what she was getting at. “I think I’m gonna uh, catch a ride with Dabi right now.” She was biting her lip, “I’ll still do the dishes for a month, I swear. And the good news is you can totally leave now!”

You sighed and nodded, muttering a just be safe and text me, then she was running off, jumping into who you assumed was Dabi’s arms. After watching them disappear, you went to dump the rest of the punch down the kitchen sink. No point in staying here any longer. Thankfully you had barely had anything to drink, so all that was left to do was grab your purse and get the hell out of here.

Up the stairs, second door on the left. That’s where your stuff should have been. Every time you had been to one of these parties, the hosting fraternity usually offered up a safe room for everyone to keep their belongings. This time it was someone’s bedroom, and when you walked in only to  see your purse wasn’t where you had left it, panic began to rise in your throat. There was no way someone had taken it, right? Then, the door behind you shuts, the lock clicking.

“Looking for this, doll?”

Oh absolutely not. Keigo stood in front of the door, your purse dangling from his fingers, that same unbearable smirk on his face. You didn’t respond, instead crossing your arms and stalking over to where he stood. “You know, I didn’t really appreciate your little stunt earlier, (Y/N). I thought we were buds!” He was looking down at you, mock hurt across his face. The fact that he remembered your name made your pulse jump just the slightest.

“What the fuck do you want, Hawks?” You spat out the nickname, taking a step back from him so you could look him level in the eyes. He put your purse behind him and took  a step closer.

“Aw, c’mon dove. You know I only like it when you use that special little nickname lovingly.” Keigo’s hand was on the back of his neck, and the display of bullshit modesty made you roll your eyes. In the back of your mind you were thinking how adorable he looked, but you shook those thoughts from your head.

“Keigo, I’m trying to go home, and I don’t understand what the fuck you think you’re doing in here, or what little game you think you’re playing, but you better get out of my way.” You were desperate to sound in control of the situation, but your voice had softened half way through. Of course he noticed, and he took another step towards you.

“I just wanted to see why you thought it would be cute to do me dirty like you did down there, dove. What could I have done to deserve being embarrassed like that in front of my guests, hm?” He imitated you, crossing his arms. His chest was puffed out a little, but he was still smirking at you

You attempted to make a snatch for your bag, but he was too quick.

“Tsk tsk tsk. C’mon now darlin’. Thought you were smarter than that.” His arms had shot out and caught hold of your shoulders. His grip was like steel, and you were starting to feel a little uneasy. He was staring down at you like he was a predator, and you were already a dead thing he had dragged into his den. “I think I’m gonna need an apology for all the trouble you’ve been causing me tonight, dove.” He was shoving you down, and your knees hit the rug on the floor with a thud.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You were looking up at him, his hands still on your shoulders keeping you against the floor. You despised the way his surprise show of strength forced heat to rush between your legs. One of his hands left your shoulder to cup your cheek, a finger hooked under your chin.

“I’m just doing something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw you last year. Don’t you think you could behave? Don’t you think you owe me some sort of apology?” Keigo was frowning now, gazing down at you through his lashes. Fuck, he was gorgeous. “Now be a good girl.” His hand cupped your face, thumb leaving your chin to trace your lips, while the other left your shoulder and started working on his pants.

“W-what are you-” You were cut off by Keigo shoving his thumb into your mouth, and when you let out a little hum, he beamed down at you. He was unzipping his jeans, doing his best to pull them down with one hand. It was then you noticed his cock hardening under his pants.

“Look at you, already cooing for me. Thought you were gonna give me a harder time than this, dove. What a slut.” He was mocking you, you were sure of it. Yet at his words your cunt clenched. Still, he was wrong; you were gonna give him a hard time. You bit down on his thumb, and he hissed. “Fuck, you really are a brat. Better not try that when I have my cock in that smart mouth of yours.”

He pulled his cock free from his boxers, and your eyes widened just the tiniest bit. He wasn’t particularly thick, but long, with just a hint of a curve. His cock was was throbbing, and he grabbed himself with the hand that was previously pulling down his pants.

When he squeezed himself, he tensed up and shuddered. “Alright dove, open up.” He slapped the head of his cock against your cheek, leaving a trail of precum. He tapped it again against your bottom lip when you refused to take his orders, and something about the obscenity of Keigo smacking your face with his cock had your mouth dropping open involuntarily.

“Good girl, I knew you had it in you to be a good girl for me.” Both his hands wrapped into the hair at the back of your head, and without a second of hesitation, he’s fucking your face.

His hips are thrusting lazily, and his cock is hitting the back of your throat. Your gagging and whimpering only seems to egg him on, and he pushes your face forward until your nose is against his pubic bone. You’re trying to fight the heat rising in your belly, but it’s no use. Impossibly, this is  the hottest thing anyone has ever done to you.

“Aw, darlin’, look at you crying over how I fuck that smart little mouth of yours. Does it hurt? Feels so good for me, dove. Love watching you cry too.” You hadn’t even realized the tears falling from your eyes, too busy focusing on your breathing. While you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of Keigo in a sexual way, you definitely had never pictured anything like this. Yet, you were enjoying yourself almost as much as he was.

You glanced up at him, eyes watery and lashes heavy. His face was flushed pink, his lips parted and breath panting. He was holding you against him as if you two were glued together, practically grinding against your face, cock pulsating against your tongue. The whines falling from his lips were music to your ears; he was gasping and sputtering, hips moving a little bit more erratically. The wetness in your panties was growing, along with your frustration. There was no way he was going to cum just like that and leave you here to pick up the mess; there was no way you were gonna let him use you.

When your teeth gently grazed his cock and you started shimmying away from him, Keigo groaned, head falling and hands tugging on your hair. You pulled off of his cock with a pop, stood up, wiped your face of any tears, and pulled your fingers through your hair.

“Sorry, birdy, but I am gonna give you a hard time. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” You squirm around him while he’s trying to catch his breath to grab your purse. It’s almost in your clutches when you’re slammed against the door.

“Think I’m gonna let you leave just like that, dove?” His voice is hot in your ear, and his hands are holding yours above your head, pinning them to the wood of the door. “Think that being a brat is gonna keep me from taking what I want?” He presses his still bare, still throbbing cock against your ass.

You stifle the groan begging to be let out, instead opting to egg him further. “I think you’re a real piece of shit, Keigo. Just another no good, douchey frat boy.”

“Hm, yeah I bet you do. Doesn’t mean you’re not gonna let this douchey frat boy abuse that slutty pussy of yours though, right? Gonna let me take advantage of you even if you fuckin’ hate me, isn’t that right, dove?” He smells like body wash and faintly of beer, and his skin is burning everywhere it’s touching yours. At his filthy words you keen, and rut your ass against his cock. “Mmm, of course you are. All bark ‘nd no bite, huh?”

He puts both of your wrists in one of his hands, and lets the other wander down. His fingers graze your waist, pushing up the material of your t-shirt. Then he’s moving up, hand cupping your breasts, fingers grazing against your nipple through the thin material of your bra. You whine and continue pushing yourself against him, wanting more.

“God, you talk too much Keigo. Too scared to actually fuck me? I doubt you’d be able to make me cum. Bet most the girls you’ve been with have faked it-” You know what you’re doing is dangerous, but you’re already here so why not. Keigo lets out something akin to growl, rumbling from deep in his chest. He’s pulling your shirt over your bra, then tugging the skimpy material down under your breasts.

“Alright, now you’ve really pissed me off brat. I’m gonna make it so the only words you remember are my name and please.” He pinches a nipple, twisting the sensitive nub between his fingers, and bites down on your neck. A moan is pitching from the back of your throat when he brings his hand up from your tits, clamping it down over your mouth. “You’re not gonna make a god damn peep unless I give you permission to, dove. Now just fuckin’ behave and keep your hands up high like that for me.”

He releases the grip he had on your wrists, and you can already feel the bruises that will be covering them tomorrow. Suddenly he’s working on your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping with minimal fumbling, and yanking your pants and panties down in one swift motion. Once they’re past your knees, and your ass is bare to him, he’s humming in approval, hand gliding over your cheeks, grabbing, kneading, pinching.

Finally, he’s running a finger across your slit, avoiding your clit, just barely fluttering past your hole, only touching your pussy enough to collect your wetness on his fingertips.

“Such a high and mighty attitude, but look at you princess. So wet, and I’ve barely touched you. All that just from sucking my cock?” You can feel yourself start to whine against his hand, wanting to shoot back some bitchy response, but when he hears your voice starting up in your throat, he shoves two fingers into your mouth. “Nuh uh, dove. Told you not a sound til’ I say so.”

Right as he says it, he pulls your hips back, giving himself the perfect angle to slam his cock into you. There was no warning, just his cock head suddenly kissing the entrance of your cunt and then the pleasurable stretch of being filled. His fingers shoved themselves backwards into your throat in time with his cock, as if to prevent you from even the littlest bit of noise at the intrusion.

The pace he sets is ruthless, and apart from his pants and whines, the only sound in the room is skin hitting skin as his hips fuck up against your ass. Your knees start to quake, and you paw at the door, relishing the cool feeling of the wood against your skin as compared to the heat of Keigo’s. Your pussy is fluttering; he’s hitting all these spots inside of you with minimal effort, and each time you clench around him he leans forward to press a kiss against your neck.

“Alright pretty girl, I’m gonna take my fingers outta that smart mouth now, and the only thing I wanna hear is how good I’m making you feel. Can tell by the way your sluttly little hole clenches around me that I’m makin’ you feel good, dove.”

As soon as his fingers leave your mouth your gasping and whimpering and making the prettiest noises Keigo’s ever heard. If only he could hear you like this more often, instead of you running your mouth at him. He let himself hold on to the musing; he would absolutely love to fuck the hatred you had for him right out of your body. Ain’t no time like the present.

He’s fucking you with more fervor now, in his mind he has a goal. Your head feels light as he eggs you on, practically begging you to use your words and tell him how good he’s making his little dove feel. God, every time he calls you that you’re practically seeing stars. Still, you don’t want to comply, to give him the satisfaction, but then his cock finds that weak spot inside of you and you’re babbling out praises.

“K-Keigo, feels so good. You’re making me feel so good. Fuck. God dammit.” You want to hate that one of your least favorite people is making you drip all over his cock, but it just feels perfect and you can’t even think anymore about all the nasty things you’ve said to each other beyond the context of now, of fucking like it’s the only thing you two should have ever been doing.

When his hand reaches down to play with your clit, you’re practically lost to the world. The only thing that matters is here and now and the feeling of it all. Your nails are scratching against the door, and you’re confident anyone walking by would get an unpleasant earful of two idiots going at it like there’s no tomorrow. You’re mumbling and whining and grinding your hips up to meet Keigo’s thrusts.

He doesn’t think he can hold himself back much longer, not with the way you're mewling and squirming and fluttering all over his cock, and he’s about ready to beg your orgasm forth. “C’mon dove, can’t have you on my cock all night. Need you to cum for me. Gotta feel you cum on my cock, darlin’.” His thrusts are sloppier, and his head is resting on your shoulder. He’s abusing your clit, rubbing harsh, tight circles, and his other hand is attached to a nipple, kneading and pinching.

“Fuckk-k, please (Y/N).” His voice is airy and needy, and hearing your name fall from his mouth like that brings your orgasm crashing down on you. Your muscles spasm as your pussy clenches down on Keigo’s cock, and he lets out a moan as he cums with you. He fucks both of you through your highs, burying his cum deep in your cunt.

Then he’s pulling out, his head still on your shoulder, when you hear the sound of a zipper being pulled up. You feel a chill as he pulls away from you, ass bare, dripping with cum.

“Well, that was fun, huh smart ass?” Keigo is looking in a small vanity mirror situated on the dresser in the bedroom, fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt. You stand up, legs wobbly, thighs sticky, head spinning. “Maybe we could do it again some time; I think I like you more when you’re fucked stupid and can’t talk shit at me.” He shoots you a wink and a smirk, and you stand there, in front of the door blinking at him.

“So uh, I have a party to get to downstairs, and it looks like  you were gonna be heading out anyways. Might wanna um,” he gestures to your undressed state, then gently guides you out from in front of the door. “Well, catch ya later dumplin’.” With a grin and, was that a fucking shaka, Keigo is out the door. You hear his footsteps fading down the stairwell, and you begin to process what just happened as you fix your clothing and grab your bag.

That little son of a bitch.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Ginger Snap

A/N  I was driving down the highway today and saw the license plate “I PieGuy”.  By the time I got home, this story was half-born in my head.  I have no idea where it might go, but it’s taking up valuable shelf space in there, so I’m birthing it onto paper.  Modern AU.  Silly fluff.  Claire POV.  First person, which I never write, so watch out for stray pronouns.

The shriek of the fire alarm was the final straw.  I’d just stepped out of the kitchen for a minute, but that was all it took for calamity to strike.  Opening the oven door in a panic, billows of smoke engulfed me before I slammed it shut again.

“Shit.  Shitshitshit.  Shit!”

Waving a damp dish towel back and forth like a flag of surrender above my head caused the head-splitting siren to finally desist.  I blew a rogue curl off my sweaty brow and gave myself a pep talk.

“Time to woman up,” I sighed before donning the oven gloves and cautiously cracking the door once again.  More smoke escaped, smelling of burnt pastry and ruined hopes.  Once it cleared I could see the charred carcasses of what were supposed to be vol au vent shells.  I carefully extracted them from the oven and dropped the cooking sheet with a clatter onto the quartz countertop.

“Dinner is D.O.A, Doctor Beauchamp.  Now what the fuck am I going to do?”

***

Thirty minutes were spent cleaning the evidence of yet another cooking fiasco and ventilating our flat by opening every available window to let in the moist Edinburgh breeze.  I now had less than four hours before Frank and three other members of the university faculty would be descending, expecting a home-cooked meal and polite chitchat.  I was in no position to offer either.

In a last-ditch effort to salvage the evening, I typed “sophisticated home catering in Edinburgh” and started dialing.  The first four numbers yielded either an answering machine or the news (unsurprising) that at least two days’ advanced notice were required to book their services.  Nearly resigned to ordering in Italian and facing Frank’s wrath, a woman’s voice with a thick Scottish brogue picked up at the fifth business I called.

“Ye’ve reached Ginger Snap, this is Jenny speaking.  How may I help ye t’day?”

I poured out my tale of culinary woe, laying it on a bit thick, but I was truly desperate by this point.

“Aye, we’ve a chef available this afternoon.  What sort of menu were ye planning?” she asked.

“Really?  Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver!”

I gave Jenny the number of guests and a broad idea of what I’d hoped to serve, although I was in no position to be choosy.

“Never ye fear, Ms. Beauchamp.  We’ll pick up the necessary items and our chef will be at yer flat by four.  Tha’ should leave jus’ enough time tae have everything ready fer six.”

Thanking her profusely and not even inquiring about the charge, I stood triumphant in the middle of my immaculate yet useless kitchen.  Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

***

The buzzer rang as I was re-arranging the decorative objects atop our sideboard.  I was aiming for the artless sophistication featured in Frank’s favourite design magazines, but instead I lined up each item in order of descending size, or grouped them by historical era.  A second buzz had me trotting to the intercom where a male voice crackled.

“This is James Fraser o’ Ginger Snap Catering.  Can ye let me in?”

I stuck my head into the hallway to find four organic cotton tote bags bursting with produce at my doorstep.  Footsteps pounded down the stairs, where I assumed the chef had retreated to collect more supplies.  I brought the first load into the kitchen where I began to unpack foodstuffs the likes of which I’d never seen.  Not knowing what else to do to be helpful, I began sorting them; green leafy things here, round crispy things there.

“Hallo?” the same voice called from where I’d left the door ajar.  Wiping my hands nervously against my slacks, I went to greet him.

Standing in the doorframe, almost filling it with his immense size, was a young man who seemed more suited to a stag hunt or a rugby pitch than haute cuisine.  He had loose tawny curls, two days’ worth of stubble and wore a faded grey henley, dark wash jeans that clung to his muscular legs and utilitarian workman’s boots.

“Claire Beauchamp?” he interrupted my visual inventory.

“Hmm? Oh, yes.  Sorry.  Pleased to meet you.”

Something funny happened when our hands met in a firm shake.  A tachycardic blip, my internal medicine professor would have called it.  There was no time to analyze this response, however, as he was already on the move.

“James Fraser, at yer service.  I’d normally spend more time getting to know ye and yer style of entertaining, but we’re short on time, so let’s get straight to it, aye?”

I gave the chef a hasty tour of our kitchen, stumbling over the names of various implements and opening the wrong cupboard when looking for my saucepans.  I blushed as he raised an expressive eyebrow, but shook it off.  I was paying for his cooking proficiency, not his opinion on my lack of domestic competence.

“I ken ye spoke tae Jenny about yer menu, but I took a few liberties at the market, based on what looked freshest.  I recommend starting with a simple salad o’ nettle and radish, garnished with a wee round of goat cheese and rye crumbs.  Loin o’ lamb with new potatoes and pancetta fer yer main.  An’ a simple rhubarb custard fer dessert.  There’s none with food allergies, aye?”

“Aye,” I replied, then corrected “umm, no, rather,” at his concerned look.  “Are you sure you can manage all that in only,” I glanced at my wristwatch “ninety minutes?   It seems like an awful lot of work.”

“Och, tis no’ much.  Lamb cooks swiftly, ye ken.  Tis why I choose it over pork or poultry.”

My saviour rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, preparing to wash his hands and get down to work.  There was probably something else I should be doing elsewhere in the flat to prepare, but I didn’t want to appear completely useless to this unflappable man.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looked dubious and seemed prepared to politely decline, but then his expression shifted.

“Aye.  Ye can wash the tatties an’ chop the rhubarb while I dress the lamb, if ye dinna mind,” he suggested.

“Scrubbing in and wielding a knife happen to be two of the only transferrable job skills I bring to cooking,” I joked, taking my turn in front of the massive Belfast sink.

He emitted a low Scottish grunt of amusement before we each settled into companionable silence, focusing on our respective duties.  I glanced over at him surreptitiously, envying the ease with which he moved from task to task, lean and nimble hands working alchemy where I only succeeded in producing dross.

“Ye’re a doctor, then?” he asked after my chopped rhubarb had been set on the stovetop to stew and the lamb was marinating in a bath of lemon and fresh herbs.

“Umm, well, I was.  My partner and I moved here from Boston, where I trained as a surgeon.  I haven’t yet obtained my license to practice here in the UK, so I’m afraid I’m just a culinary liability for the moment.”

It was a current source of strife in my relationship with Frank.  He liked the idea of me keeping house, entertaining and eventually settling down to raise a family.  I chaffed at this unfamiliar routine.  But until I passed my licensing exams, it was rather a moot point.

“I’m sure ye’re far more than that,” he replied solemnly, before breaking into a sneaky grin.  “I’ve ne’er seen stalks of rhubarb cut quite sae... uniform.  Ye’d have a fine career in quality control, if ye wished.”

I faked throwing a dish towel at him while we both laughed.

“What about you, Mr. Fraser?  How did you get into the catering business?”  It wasn’t polite conversation.  I was really quite curious to know more about him.

“I’ll tell ye, but only if ye call me Jamie.”  At my nod, he continued, “twas my Mam.  She was always a great cook, but then my Da passed suddenly and she with three bairns under the age of ten tae raise. She needed tae work.  We moved tae Edinburgh an’ she laboured day and night tae save enough tae start her own catering business.  Since I was a lad, when I wasna in school I was in her kitchen, watching and learning all the while.”

His striking face took on a faraway expression, and I knew he was remembering those days with a mixture of wistfulness and love.  I recognized the look from my own reflection, when I thought about my dead parents.  Without realizing it, I lay my palm over his forearm where it had stilled above my butcher’s block.  His eyes were the same hue as midsummer blueberries, and they regarded me with silent inquiry.

A timer made us both jump, my hand falling to my side.  What was I thinking, touching this stranger who I was paying to cook dinner for my boyfriend’s guests?  I really needed to find a hobby, so my mind didn’t latch onto any feeble excuse for stimulation.

Brushing my hands against my thighs, I quickly excused myself and left to get properly dressed for dinner.  Only thirty minutes remained before Frank and his colleagues were due to arrive.  

I spent more time than was strictly necessary away from the kitchen, afraid I’d made things awkward with Jamie.  By the time I finally returned, he was plating the lamb and putting the custard in the refrigerator to set.  I tried to think of something to say that would re-establish the fluent rapport from earlier on.

“I’ve opened the wine tae let it breathe,” Jamie said without looking at me.  I wished there was a similar process for blundering Englishwomen.

“Jamie, I really don’t know how to...”

The sound of the front door opening interrupted me and Frank’s nasal voice rang out from the entryway.

“Claire, we’re here!”

“Fuck!” I exclaimed.  Jamie tipped his head sideways in question.  “I never had time to explain to my partner that I hired your services.  That’s the dean of his faculty out there, and...”  I broke off, looking frantically around the room as though a trap door would suddenly materialize.  Quick on his feet, Jamie understood the situation immediately.   The kitchen windows were still open after my earlier catastrophe.  With surprising grace for one so large, he slid through the opening and onto the fire escape.  

“Bon appetit, Claire Beauchamp,” the ginger chef wished from outside, a mischievous smirk lighting his whole countenance.

I stood, mouth open in shock, as he gave an abbreviated bow before scampering down the metal ladder just as Frank entered the kitchen behind me.

“This smells delicious, darling.  We really are going to make a chef out of you yet.”

[onlysarah235678]

A Little Bit Part 23

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Hi everyone 😊 This is the last part, FINALLY. Thanks to everyone who read this plot bunny that turned into this 23-chapter long fic. ALSO, as always look at this wonderful gif by illuminated-blue. Thank you for literally making all of the gifs for this story ❤️ You’re seriously the best!

Warnings: angst and vandalism. Mostly fluff??

Somehow Billie Dean does make it to your apartment in 10 minutes. She sees that there is already a police car parked out front, and she parks rather haphazardly next to it before jumping out of the car. She hurries inside and pulls her phone out to call you again. You’d hung up with her despite not wanting to because you didn’t want Billie to get into an accident trying to talk to you and drive probably 30 over the limit.

Billie walks through the front doors and sees no one behind the desk or even in front of the elevators, and she sighs in annoyance. She’s more than a little ticked when you answer the phone just as she reaches the elevators.

“Billie are you here?”

Billie looks both ways trying to track someone down, but she’s unsuccessful. She thinks about leaving and hunting down that cop but she has no idea where to start, and she doesn’t want to leave you alone for too long.

“Yes, Y/N, I’m here and so are the police.”

She hears you sigh before you mention that they got here just a few minutes ago. You had heard them talking and then they’d disappeared shortly before Billie showed up. You figure that they are checking on the elevator so you try to be patient, but you’re burning up and getting antsy. You look down at Milo who is just lying beside you, his head in your lap as you pet him absentmindedly.

“Hopefully they will figure it out soon. Do you know what floor you’re on?”

You frown as you try to remember how long you’d been moving before the elevator stopped. You hadn’t really been paying attention, but if you had to guess you were almost to the third floor. You are about to ask Billie why she wants to know, but you don’t get a chance before you hear her walking. Her heels click on the tile floor and your first thought, that luckily you don’t voice, is ‘of course she’s wearing heels’.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Billie heads toward the stairs taking them two at a time as she makes her way to the third floor.

“I’m on my way.”

You don’t say anything as you just listen to Billie almost run up the stairs. You want to tell her to slow down and that there is no rush, but your anxiety keeps you from speaking up. You sit up slightly when you hear her heading your way, and you are standing up with Milo when you hear her not just through the phone.

“Y/N?”

You sigh nearly laughing in relief as you move toward the door as quickly as possible. You get a little lightheaded from standing so fast, but you don’t even notice as you fall against the door.

“Billie?”

You hear her voice but it’s not right in front of you like you imagined, or rather hoped it would be. It is a little below you and you realize that you are almost to your floor. You drop back down to the floor because your head is hurting a little from being so stressed, hot, and panicky.

“I’m here, Y/N. Are you doing okay?”

You check the time, realizing it’s been almost half an hour since you walked into this death trap before you nod in confirmation. You reach out for Milo when he starts whining and you get him to sit next to you before responding.

“I’m okay, now. Better. Thank you for dropping everything to come save us.”

Billie is holding her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she tries to find a way to get you out. The doors, unsurprisingly, don’t budge and all Billie can see is the key hole beneath the buttons that she can’t do anything with.

“You didn’t pull me away from anything important. Did you hear where they went?”

You tell her that they were headed up to the control room but you didn’t know where that was. Billie was willing to go look for it, but you want her to stay with you, so the two of you just talk for a little bit before Billie hears people running upstairs. They are moving quickly and Billie doesn’t have time to wonder what’s going on before you’re speaking.

“What the hell is that?”

You frown as you hear what sounds like a stampede on the floor above you. You listen as they run down the hall before things go quiet again. Billie turns when she hears the doors to the stairwell slam loudly against the wall, and she mutters an ‘I’ll be right back’ before she heads in that direction. You don’t argue and you wait as Billie walks to the stairwell and opens the door. She only manages to hear the door slam on the first floor as she pushes the door open. She frowns and looks down the levels below her and just sighs. She supposes those weren’t the people she wants to find anyway.

“I don’t know who that was, Y/N, but I think--.”

Billie trails off as another door opens above her and she just stands in the stairwell waiting to see who it is this time. Billie doesn’t wait for long before a cop and someone she recognizes from the front desk appear.

You’re a little distracted by the sudden sound of tapping and more voices from downstairs. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you hope they are here to help you. When you hear the sound of a radio beeping, you sigh in relief and grab Milo by the head and kiss his face.

You’re going to get out of here.  

After a short conversation that you overheard, Billie is on her way back to you while the police heads down to let the firefighters know where you are. You are tapping your foot anxiously as you hear Billie stop in front of the elevator again.

“They’re on their way, Y/N.”

Ten minutes and a lot of creaking later, the elevator doors are open on the third floor. Unfortunately, you are not as close to it as you hoped and there is a two-maybe three-foot opening where you can see the ground. Mostly you see the tops of heads, but even seeing almost 6 people, including Billie, standing by ready to help doesn’t make you feel any better. You try to stay calm as one of the fire fighters tells you what you need to do. The elevator is not going to move on its own at this point. The police officer that went upstairs tries to reassure you of this by saying that someone busted it, which actually makes you more nervous. You don’t have time to try and figure out why before Milo starts whining and trying to get out.

You grab him quickly, not wanting him to just jump out before making sure his leash is attached. Luckily, he’s wearing his harness, so he’s less likely to fall out of it in case he doesn’t make the jump. You try not to think about that as you keep your hold on Milo while dropping his leash into waiting hands.

“Okay, Milo. Go ahead.” 

You watch with an extreme amount of anxiety as Milo sticks his head out of the elevator and gets ready to jump. You want to close your eyes, but you watch as he jumps out and lands in the arms of someone, you can’t tell who. You sigh in relief as you hear his collar clinking as he shakes himself out. You hear Billie offer to take him and you take a deep breath before trying to figure out how this is going to work. You are sweaty, impatient, and you are really regretting your decision to go with the plan of jumping head first. You make the mistake of looking down not just to the three pairs of arms that are going to catch you, but down the elevator shaft. You see the distance to the ground floor and you almost throw up you’re so nervous.

“Don’t look down, Y/N.”

You glance over to Billie who’s watching nervously and you want to say that it’s too late, but you hold your tongue and brace yourself to more or less dive into some strangers’ arms.

“We’ve got you, Doc.”

You decide to trust him and you practically fall on top of them as you push yourself out of the elevator. You curse as you feel yourself fall back as you land on your feet, and you tense but luckily, you’re quickly steadied and are being moved away from the edge. You sigh in relief and exhaustion before thanking everyone in earshot and turning to your dog and girlfriend. You smile widely before reaching out to pet Milo. You don’t hold out your arms for a hug because you can smell how badly you need a shower, but Billie doesn’t seem to care.

“I probably shouldn’t hug you. I sti--.”

You are cut off as Billie pulls you into a smothering hug. Considering you already weren’t breathing well to begin with, the heat and the stress had been getting to you, you pull away far sooner than you want to. You smile at her though before turning to make sure you weren’t needed. Once you determine that you have nothing to contribute to  figuring out how to fix the elevator, you and Billie head upstairs. You mutter under your breath about having to take a shower as you follow Milo out of the stairwell. You notice that he’s still panting and the first thing you are going to do when you get to your apartment is give him some water.

You don’t realize that Billie’s hold on your hand tightens until you come to a stop. You frown in confusion looking back to see that Billie’s frozen and staring at something. You turn to see what it is and you feel your stomach drop when the sight registers.

You’re only a few feet shy of your apartment, but you can clearly see that the door is already opened. The lock is busted and you feel yourself moving to open it before you can think better of it. Billie is quick to follow you, and as you push the door open to take a look inside you stop cold.

The first thing you notice is the smell. You’re not sure what it is immediately, but it’s awful and nothing like how you left it. You take a step inside, holding tighter onto Milo as you notice that there is barely a square foot of clear floor space.

As far as you can tell, your entire downstairs has been trashed, and you have no idea what to even look at first. The kitchen is a wreck, all of your dishes, food, and appliances have been thrown around haphazardly. There are stains from the food and dents in the floor and drywall from where things had been thrown and you think that you see blood on the floor before realizing that it’s ketchup. Looking to the living room, you see that your television is smashed and bits of it are all over the ground intermingled with couch stuffing. You tell Milo to sit before carefully making your way through the wreckage. You don’t notice Billie reach out for you, and she just sighs as you disappear up the stairs.

“I’ll be right back.”

Billie wants to argue, but she instead takes charge of watching Milo who is sniffing furiously. She takes a closer look at the kitchen and she sees that almost all of his food is emptied out onto the floor. It’s scattered in the corner and throughout the kitchen. Billie cringes as she steps on part of a bowl and then nearly trips over a loaf of bread. She makes her way out of the minefield that is your kitchen and heads toward the living room. The smell that she’d first noticed when walking in is stronger over here, and it only takes Billie a couple of seconds to realize what it is.

She considers going upstairs to check on you, but she hears you at the top of the stairs before she gets a chance.

“Well, I guess it wasn’t a robbery. My computer is still here. My room’s trashed though.”

Billie scowls at this watching as you stuff some things into a backpack before sighing. You’re so tired and you just wanted to shower, but there was no way in hell that was happening right now. You turn to Billie with a sigh before glancing to Milo who is still sitting by the door.

“I’ll call 911. Again.”

You aren’t sure why you’re not more upset about this. Watching three different people walk around your apartment where all of your possessions have been destroyed should make you angrier than you are. You blame this on the fact that you’re exhausted. You are stressed out again and you swear that if you don’t get to at least change clothes soon you’re going to lose it.

You had made the mistake of calling the authorities before you showered, and now you weren’t allowed to mess with anything. They needed to collect evidence and you definitely wanted them to do this quickly because the smell had only gotten worse over time.

Milo and Billie were waiting in the hallway while you answered a few questions and you couldn’t help but be antsy. You told Billie that she didn’t have to stick around, but she wanted to make sure that you weren’t alone right now. She also hadn’t really mentioned it, but you weren’t going to be staying here tonight, or anytime soon probably. You probably would end up coming back to her place. She wanted you to after everything that had happened.

“Have you gotten on anyone’s bad side recently?”

You nearly laugh at this but somehow just end up nodding in confirmation. You mention Doug and tell the truth about how awful he is to you and how he’d pushed you down the stairs. You watch as the brunette takes notes and you shake your head when you’re asked for a last name. You only know that he lives on the floor below yours, but you’re sure he can figure out all he needs from just this information alone.

“Do you know where you’re staying in the meantime? If we need to contact you?”

You stop short at this because you hadn’t really even thought of that. You were just thinking about how a lot of your clothes were ruined, your dishes that you’d brought from home were in pieces on the floor, and your very comfortable couch was destroyed. All of these things could be replaced and they weren’t even that important to you. You were just stuck on the fact that someone, probably Doug, had so thoroughly trashed your home when you honestly thought he didn’t give a shit about you. You never would have guessed that he’d go to the effort of doing something like this.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll figure it out.”

It takes another twenty minutes before you’re allowed to go up to your room and grab a few things. You don’t get much because there isn’t much that’s salvageable. You get a few outfits and a couple of other things before meeting Billie outside.

“Sorry, that took so long.”

Billie turns to shoot you an incredulous look that you miss as you’re reaching for Milo’s leash. She hands it over without argument as she follows you to the stairwell.

“Your apartment just got trashed and pissed in, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for.”

You turn back to Billie with a surprised look and you take a second to think this through before you nod. She’s right. You aren’t sure why you’re apologizing, as usual, you’re still a little dazed by all of this.

“You’re right, I’m—I guess I’m just in shock.”

You continue walking and push the door open to the stairwell with a frown. You are just now realizing that everything you have with you is the entirety of your possessions and you have nowhere to live. You decide to think about the headache of dealing with insurance later as you hold the door open for Billie and let her go first.

Billie sighs as she runs a hand through her hair. She is exhausted from the stress of the last hour or so and she really just wants to go home have a drink and a nice long bath. However, she wants to make sure that you are taken care of first. You’ve had a rough weekend between your dad and now all of this, and she was certain you just wanted to sleep too. And shower.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to snap.”

It’s just been a long afternoon. Billie almost says this but then she realizes how it would sound. She wasn’t the one who had to experience stress and then more stress, so she really didn’t have room to complain.

You shake your head as you follow Billie down the stairs, hyperaware of the fact the fact that you are the only ones here.

“It’s okay, Billie. You probably hadn’t counted on having an exhausting Sunday either.”

Billie smiles before slowing down so she can reach out for your hand. She takes Milo’s leash, shifting it to her right so she can hold your hand with her left. She leads you out to the lobby and you look both ways before following her to the parking lot. You groan as the sun hits your face and you feel yourself warm up, again. You are dying for a shower and a change of clothes.

“I’ll just-.”

“How about-?”

You both speak up at the same time, and you laugh slightly before you take Milo back with a smile. He’s lying on the ground at your feet and that’s all you need to know that he’s tired too. You look back to Billie before nodding for her to go first. You weren’t going to say anything too interesting anyway.

“How about you come spend the night? Worry about everything else later?”

You smile because you like the way she thinks. You are very tempted to take her up on her offer, but you’ve already inconvenienced Billie today and you don’t want to continue this. You go to shake your head and claim that you’ll just get a room somewhere but she beats you to it. She can tell that you’re reluctant, but she hopes she can convince you to try and relax today. She’s afraid that you being alone with Milo in a hotel room won’t be relaxing. Not if you’re worried about Doug.

“I really don’t mind, Y/N. I love our sleepovers after all.”

Unsurprisingly you end up back at Billie’s place, and the first thing you do is get Milo some water. Then you take a shower while Billie does laundry for you, before letting Milo out in the backyard. Now that you’re clean and a little less stressed you’re beginning to realize the severity of what happened today.

You’re sitting in the backyard watching Milo wander around before lying down in the grass near Billie’s garden. You know you have to watch him closely because last time you let him do this, he tried to eat some of her flowers. You don’t hear Billie come outside immediately. You’re too busy worrying about whether or not you got enough pictures for your insurance claims to notice that Billie’s behind you. You sigh before closing your eyes and leaning back to try and relax. You weren’t supposed to be worrying about this today. It could all wait until tomorrow at least.

“Y/N, are you hungry?”

You open your eyes to see Billie standing beside you with a plate of something in her hands. You smile as you sit up to take a better look before watching as Billie sits down across from you. You don’t notice Milo getting up and making his way over to you to see what Billie’s brought.

“Always, but you didn’t have to do this.”

Billie waves you off before doing the same to Milo when he puts his feet on the chair and sniffs her food. You are quick to grab something so Billie could move away from him, and you smile gratefully before helping her out. You stand up and lead Milo inside, using your sandwich as bait before you sneak back outside and close the door.

“Be good Milo! Sit.”

He obeys with a whine before you move to sit back down in your chair. Billie watches for a moment as you eat, and she frowns when she notices how tense you are. She knows you must be exhausted and she is honestly surprised that you are still up. If she had to guess, it is worry that’s kept you awake, and Billie considers how she can help.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

You turn to Billie with a smile before shaking your head. There is a lot that you want, but nothing that you can ask Billie for. She’s already been so helpful and supportive this weekend, and that’s all you want right now. You simply stand before moving to sit next to Billie once you’re done eating. You reach out for her and she’s pulling you into her lap before you can even wonder if she’d mind. You smile as you wrap your arms around her in a hug. You sigh under your breath before burying your face in Billie’s hair. Normally you could fall asleep like this with Billie’s arms wrapped around you, but you’re too stressed. There’s too much on your mind, and luckily Billie seems to realize this.

“I’m okay, Billie. I’m just glad to be relaxing with you again. That’s enough for me.”

Billie smiles before she reaches up and begins to run her fingers through your hair. You hum under your breath and her smile widens as she feels you relax on top of her. She turns when she hears Milo bark from inside, but she doesn’t do anything about him right now. She continues to stroke your hair until she realizes you are close to sleep.

She doesn’t want you to fall asleep in an uncomfortable position so despite the fact that she doesn’t want to part from you, she starts to shift which makes you stir with a tired groan.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go inside, Y/N.”

You end up eating dinner because it is about that time and you hadn’t realized how hungry you were. You had been too stressed to notice until you nearly fell asleep beside Billie on the couch and your stomach growled embarrassingly loudly. Billie had laughed in amusement while you blushed and muttered under your breath about making a decent meal.

You were now in her kitchen taking stock of what you could make for the two of you. Billie tries to help you, but you shake your head and hurry to pour her a drink before setting it down at the counter. You shoot her a smile and a slightly pleading look when she looks like she’s about to argue, but luckily she acquiesces with little more than a sigh.

“You should relax too, Y/N. You’ve had quite a weekend.”

You smile at this before nodding in agreement. You do think that you deserve to relax which is why you are cooking dinner. You love to cook. You find the process relaxing, so you are going to take full advantage of the opportunity to make dinner for Billie. You knew that she didn’t really enjoy cooking as much as you did. She found it stressful when you did it together sometimes because she wasn’t very good, and even if you didn’t care about that, you wanted to give her the night off.

“I know, but you know me, this is relaxing.”

You smile at her and Billie sighs again before taking a sip of her wine. She knows that she can’t argue with you. At least there wouldn’t be a point.

“If you’re sure.”

Billie doesn’t expect you to respond beyond the nod that you offer her. You stop what you’re doing though and you smile a little wider at the idea of cooking for Billie like this every night. Instead of mentioning this; however, you say something less daunting that shouldn’t be a surprise to the medium at this point.

“Of course. It combines my two favorite things: food and spending time with you.”

Billie smiles at this watching as you resume cooking while humming under your breath. You seem so in your element and Billie enjoys just watching you navigate the kitchen and somehow avoid tripping over Milo who is always underfoot.

You finally kick him out and he sits next to Billie to watch as you finish up. A few minutes later you’re both at the table, but you quickly have to banish Milo to the living room because of his begging. You sigh as you watch him leave before turning back to Billie with a smile. You blush slightly at the sound Billie makes as she takes her first bite, and you look down to your own food as a distraction.

“This is wonderful, sweetheart. “

You smile appreciatively before taking a bite yourself. You had definitely been distracted while cooking, by both Billie’s presence and the events of the day, but you’re grateful that it hadn’t done too much damage.

“Thank you, Billie.”

Bit comes downstairs a little later, and you have to keep Milo from getting his face rearranged when you realize Bit isn’t in the mood for him tonight. You return to the table after wiping the fur off of you with a frown, and Billie just smiles in amusement as she watches Bit disappear under the table.

“You better behave for Y/N tomorrow, Bit.”

You smile at this before sparing a glance under the table to see Bit watching you. Her bright eyes are the only thing you could see and you look away quickly before shaking your head. You remind Billie that Bit will be under anesthesia for most of the time she’s with you, so hopefully that improved your odds of her being nice to you.

“I’m excited to see all of the kittens again. Are you still sure you want to keep just Mickey and Bit?”

You and Billie talk about the cats a little while longer, and after confirming that she hasn’t changed her mind, you and Billie figure out what tomorrow will look like. Despite staying with her tonight and seeing her in the morning, you are excited to see Billie tomorrow afternoon for her appointment. You are still thinking about this as you watch Billie clean up. You hadn’t even bothered arguing with her when she told you to sit because you knew she had the same system as you. Whoever cooked didn’t clean up.

You make sure that Milo stays out of her way by keeping him distracted. He is eager to jump up on you and you scratch his giant head with a yawn as you watch him shed all over the place. You turn at the sound of your phone going off and you glance at it briefly before grabbing it. You abandon Milo for the moment and he is definitely not happy about it, but you don’t notice as you read the message that just came in.

Billie notices your frown turn to a smile and she can’t help but wonder what the cause is. She waits until you’re done typing before she asks. She watches as you sigh in relief before returning your attention to Milo who hadn’t stopped whining since you picked up your phone.

“Good news?”

You look up at Billie who’s finished cleaning at this point, and you nod before mentioning what the email had been about.

“Yeah, it was. I heard back quicker than I thought I would, but I can get another apartment as early as this week.”

Billie frowns as she considers this, and you’re looking right at her so it’s impossible to miss. Your smile fades as Billie sighs and drops the towel in her hands. You hadn’t been expecting this reaction and you’re not sure what to make of it.

“You’re going to stay there?”

Billie wasn’t sure how you were going to manage living there again. After what had happened, she assumed you would want to find somewhere else to stay. Somewhere you wouldn’t have to be looking over your shoulder constantly for Doug or people like him that wanted to make you feel inferior. Maybe even hurt you.

You nod slowly trying to figure out where Billie is going with this, but you come up empty so you just respond with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

Billie nearly balks at this, but instead she shoots you a confused look that you completely miss as you tell Milo to sit back down.

“What about what happened today? Is that not a reason to move?”

You frown at this because you couldn’t lie, you had definitely considered it. You didn’t really like the idea of staying in a place where people like Doug knew how to find you and rattle you. That said, you were too proud to admit this so you just shake your head and give her the reason you’d decided to use instead.

“It won’t be a problem in a new place, and once Doug is gone.”

You watch as Billie shoots you a bewildered look before moving to sit next to you. She barely has the patience to pull the chair out far enough for her to sit comfortably, but she doesn’t seem to care as she turns to face you.

“Don’t you see, Y/N? If it’s not Doug who bothers you, it will be someone else. Everyone knows you live there.”

You really can’t argue with this and you don’t even bother trying. Your logic is flawed because it’s based more on your pride than actual logic and you know this. You just don’t want to give in so easily.

“What do you think I should do then Billie? Run away? No, that would be letting him win!”

Billie watches as you look to Milo who was pawing at you with a scowl and tell him to lie down before you turn back to her. Billie just sighs in defeat because she doesn’t want to fight with you, but she also wants to make sure you’re safe. She would hate for something like this to happen to you again, and she wants to be able to say that she did all she could to help you avoid it.

“It’s not about winning, Y/N. It’s about being safe.”

Billie sees you deflate at her words and she frowns as she reaches for your hand. You sigh in defeat before meeting Billie’s gaze, and if you hadn’t already decided to give in, you would have at the look on her face.

“Do you think you will feel safe living there after everything that’s happened?”

You don’t even need to respond for Billie to have her answer. You look away and grumble under your breath in annoyance. Not at Billie because she’s right, but rather at yourself for thinking that you could swallow your fear, your feelings again and not suffer any consequences for it.

You finally shake your head and admit what Billie had suspected all along. You drop her hand to run your own through your hair, and you sigh in frustration. You have a lot to do tomorrow.

“No. Not really. Even if he’s gone. There will always be other people. Regardless of if I move or not, Billie. There will always be others who pay too close attention and will find out where I’m living. If I’m unlucky enough, more people will harass me.”

You frown at the thought and you’re too busy imagining the worst to notice Billie’s look. She isn’t sure if she should bring it up, despite now being the perfect opportunity, but Billie speaks up before she can stop herself.

“You could also move in with me.”

You smile at this and find yourself laughing before you turn your attention back to Billie. You stop abruptly when you realize that she’s not smiling teasingly at you or even really smiling. She’s serious. You close your mouth only to quickly open it again as you struggle to find the words to respond. You hadn’t expected her to say this, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to move in with Billie, you just had your reservations.

“Wait, you were being serious. I think. Were you?”

Wow. You couldn’t have sounded less put together if you tried, but luckily Billie doesn’t call you out for it. She only smiles before nodding in confirmation. She is being serious and she had been thinking about this for a while. When she says this, she notices how you stiffen slightly before scratching the back of your head awkwardly.

“Oh, okay.”

You want to kick yourself for sounding so enthusiastic. You’d honestly imagined this scenario more times than you’d care to admit, and each of them ended with you jumping into Billie’s arms or some equally enthusiastic response. Not this awkward silence that you didn’t know how to break.

Billie senses your discomfort and she’s quick to give you a way out. Both of you really because she feels her excitement at the prospect of you moving in fade with each passing second of you freaking out internally. She knew she shouldn’t have rushed you by asking now.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

You panic when Billie says this and you quickly shake your head before reaching out for her. You grab her hands bringing her attention back to you and you smile earnestly as you shake your head again.

“No, Billie, it’s not that I don’t want to. I promise I love you—your uh—idea of living with you, I just am not sure if we’re ready.”

At this point you’re practically sweating as you curse yourself for letting that slip out. You hold your breath watching as Billie thinks about what you just said. She tilts her head slightly and you feel your lungs burning from the effort to not breathe when Billie finally asks you,

“Why not?”

You finally allow yourself to take a breath, but you don’t answer immediately. You already know your reasoning, but you don’t want to admit your fear to Billie. That said, you’ve already made her feel like you don’t want to move in with her, so you give up any time you were going to take to doubt yourself to tell the truth.

“I-um. I guess I’m worried that you’ll get sick of me a lot faster if I move in.”

You look at your hands which are still holding Billie’s in embarrassment, but you drop one of them as she pulls away so she can reach out for you. She tilts your head up with a hand under your chin and you can’t help but look at her as she smiles at you in a way that makes you blush.

“I don’t think I’ll get sick of you at all, sweetheart.”

You hesitate for a moment before you manage a small smile. Your face lights up at the idea of living with Billie, being with Billie all of the time. You don’t get too carried away right now because there is still a lot for you to figure out. For now, you just lean in and kiss Billie, and it’s a little messy and hurried but you couldn’t care less. You’re beaming when you pull away and take Billie’s hand in yours and squeeze it tightly.

“Are you sure about that, Billie Dean?”

Billie leans back slightly and pretends to think about your question for a moment. You frown in annoyance and start to pull your hand away, but she merely laughs and brings you back so she can kiss you again.

“Of course. I am, Y/N. You and Milo both.”

You laugh at this and move to close the distance when Billie pulls away at the last second. You’re anticipating another joke when she simply smiles at you and cups your cheek with a sigh. She kisses you once before pulling away to meet your curious gaze.

“I love the idea of living with you too, Y/N.”

You blush furiously at this and Billie can’t stop her smile from widening as you look away in embarrassment. Clearly Billie didn’t miss your slip up, and you just sigh in defeat before deciding to worry about it later. Right now, you have more important things to do.

One month later

Billie sighs as she finally arrives home after a long day of meetings. Her show had aired a few weeks ago, and so far, it was a raging success. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean her work was over, in fact it was just beginning again now that it had been confirmed that she would be shooting another season. She is excited by the prospect of traveling again in the coming months, but all she can think about right now is getting off her feet.

She opens the front door and is immediately greeted by two things that had quickly become some of her favorites since you and Milo moved in. The first thing Billie sees is Milo as he waits patiently in the foyer for her. He is sometimes accompanied by Mickey or Bit depending on the day, but tonight he’s waiting by himself, tail wagging and eager to see her as always.

Billie smiles as she reaches out to pet him before putting down her things and heading for the kitchen.

“Hi, Milo. How was your day?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he follows Billie as she heads for the second thing she’s grown to love about living with you. Whether you were cooking or you’d just ordered out, Billie was always grateful to arrive home to the smell of dinner. After living alone for so long and always returning to an empty house, there was something so comforting about having someone waiting for her. Better yet, cooking for her since she still hadn’t learned very many things beyond your favorites. She arrives to the kitchen to see you sitting on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you read something on your phone. You put it down as soon as you see Billie and you move to jump off the counter and greet her, but she moves faster.

You sigh and simply wrap your arms around her with a smile before meeting her for a kiss. You had to admit that this was probably your favorite part of the day. After moving in with Billie, you quickly realized how much you loved it. It hadn’t been nearly as big of an adjustment for the two of you as you feared, and there really was nothing better than waking up next to Billie every morning.

You hadn’t brought much with you since most of it was destroyed during the break in, but you slowly started to buy more things over time. Billie managed to sneak in some things here or there, and eventually you had almost as many clothes in the closet as Billie did. You found living with her easy, and you loved having someone to come home to.

Or rather, on nights like this, having someone who loved coming home to you.

“How was your day?”

Billie sighs before muttering something about it being crazy busy under her breath. She tells you the news about her next season, and you smile widely before pulling her back in for a quick hug.

“That’s great news, Billie! Where do you get to go this time?”

Billie starts to tell you about how most of today was spent discussing potential destinations for her next season. Nothing had been decided yet, but hopefully she had at least a month until she had to start packing. You smile at this despite the fact that Billie will be gone for weeks for filming, but you decide to be happy for her now, and worry about that later. You lean in to kiss her again, but your smile fades when you hear Milo jump up and put his feet on the counter.

“Milo no! Get down!”

Milo whines before doing as he’s told and just sniffing your dinner from the floor. You sigh in defeat before looking to see what time it is. You’d gotten sidetracked cooking and you really needed to walk him. That said, you were perfectly comfortable where you were, and you really didn’t want to leave.

Billie somehow reads your mind and smiles before moving so you can jump off the counter. You frown but don’t argue before you grab your phone and hop down.

“I’ll be right back, I promise!”

Billie watches as Milo runs for his leash and you’re about to follow when she speaks up.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

When you first moved in, reporters and even a couple of Billie’s fans had hung around the house for a while. It lasted longer than either of you would have expected because of what had happened with Doug. Once news got out that your apartment had been broken into and Doug was arrested, it seemed like everyone’s interest in your relationship skyrocketed. Much to your surprise, you’d received more support than criticism, and luckily no one like Doug had bothered you since.

For this reason, you were a little braver when it came to going out on your own. After a few encounters with some of Billie’s fans, you weren’t as on edge about people harassing you. You weren’t sure how long that was going to last, but you would take what you could get for as long as you could get it.

So you shook your head before moving back so you could kiss Billie again, this time without Milo interrupting.

“It’s okay. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Billie nods before watching as you meet Milo at the door and get him ready for his walk. He’s bouncing in excitement by the time you get your shoes on, and he barely gives you time to throw a smile over your shoulder before he’s dragging you out the door. Billie only hears you curse as you disappear with Milo, and she smiles before shaking her head in amusement. She loves Milo and all of his many quirks, but tonight she can’t keep her mind off the food in the kitchen. She heads back to get started on setting the table, and she’s finishing up when she hears a loud bark as the door opens once again and Milo comes tearing through the house.

Billie turns to see you looking out of breath and a little annoyed at your dog, and she can’t help but laugh. She’s not sure what she missed, but she’s certain that it won’t be the last time Milo causes you trouble.  For now, she’ll just have to settle on hearing about whatever managed to happen in the three minutes you both were gone. It’s not like she hasn’t experienced her fair share of Milo antics in the time you’ve been here, but sometimes she barely believes what you tell her.

You sigh as you take off your shoes and head for your dog who is still panting from his run. You roll your eyes as you take of his leash, and Billie smiles as she shoots you a questioning look.

“What did he do this time?”

You laugh before shaking your head in disbelief.  You decide to wait until dinner to tell this story because your stomach is rumbling before you can even get your first word out. Billie chuckles and you blush slightly before setting Milo’s leash down.  

“You’ll just have to come with us next time.”

Billie smiles before kissing the top of your head as she leads you to the kitchen. She hums in agreement before turning to watch as Milo hurries past to find some food.

“Next time.”

TAGLIST❤️: @madamevirgo​, @illuminated-blue​, @delias-bitch-craft​, @angelxsarahp​

[nukapind]

Hi can you pls continue the late night visit fics their great and I love seeing dad!dabi content yours became a new favorite of mine 🥰💜🤗

Enough (Dabi x Reader)

+ Request: “Hi! I was wondering if I could request a continuation of your series Of Visits and Drop Ins? Honestly I look forward to seeing more interactions between Dabi and his son along with how the family dynamic has changed to accommodate Dabi. Happy New Year!”

So I actually didn’t even notice it was the day to post and I did literally all of this on my break at work lmao. Lemme know if y’all have any requests and like always, this was crossposted to my AO3.

Late Night Visit (Part One)  Daylight Drop-In (Part Two)

___

The first change you made was the olive branch— a small key to your apartment that you’d left on the counter with a note. It’d always been an extra key but lately it’d found a home looped in some twine around Dabi’s neck in a makeshift necklace, hidden to the prying eyes of his so called coworkers under his shirt.

The second was the extra space that’d seemed to free itself up— from the empty hook on the coatrack to the new seat at the dinner table, there’d at least been an attempt to accommodate a third person in the house, even if there was no guarantee that it’d be used. After all, Dabi had never seemed to care about the smaller things before— never once cared if his placemat was at the table or if you’d freed up space in your closet to make room for his clothes— yet you still made space for him in your life.

And the final change certainly had to be Takeshi himself, he’d always been such a sweet and quiet boy outside of the home. He’d never been one to be loud nor to be mischievous

With Dabi here, he seemed to come to life just as his powers had.

“Mommy, look at what Dabi taught me!” An excited squeal rang in your ears, quickly followed by the sound of little feet running around the house. Those words had never been followed with anything good, the last he’d said that your hair had been singed slightly— Takeshi was very apologetic, Dabi not as much but he’d certainly got a kick out of it.

Immediately your eyes darted over the fire extinguisher on the kitchen counter, fingers antsy to reach out for it already. “Mom look!” He whined and reluctantly you turned, a soft gasp leaving your lips. A small blue flame rested on his fingertip, glowing just as much as the smile on Takeshi’s face.

“Wow sweetie, that’s wonderful. But remember that we don’t use our quirks inside the house, practicing is for our outside time.” He huffed but the proud look on his face didn’t seem to vanish. “It looks just like Dabi’s fire! I’m getting good.” You snorted, he certainly did seem to be getting the same amount of confidence that Dabi had, that’s for sure.

“It looks very cool, now put that fire out quick.” He pouted but nevertheless the flame quickly dissipated— only proving that though Dabi may have been a pain to have around before this, he had been teaching Takeshi quickly. The elementary school you’d sent him to had already said his control was far greater than the other students, that he had a remarkable quirk— a quirk that was an awful lot like Endeavor’s, that could work perfectly for a hero. You wanted absolutely none of that, and you were sure Dabi would rather skin himself alive than to hear that Takeshi had been compared to Endeavor at your parent-teacher conference.

Thankfully, Takeshi hadn’t had such an interest in heroes like all the other children his age— hopefully he never would.

“Kid’s got good control, better than me at that age.” Biting your lip, you nodded softly— though you’d made all these changes to fit Dabi in both of your lives, it didn’t mean seeing him was any less uncomfortable. It was obvious, from the beginning at least, that you’d only wanted him around to help Takeshi— who still hadn’t wanted  to call Dabi his dad.

It’d been a nightmare at the beginning, but slowly things had started to get better.

“Well, you’ve had more than enough time to learn how to control that firepower. Now you’re just passing it on I suppose.” You’d threaded your fingers through Takeshi’s hair, frowning softly at the white that was poke through at the tips— Dabi had said it was something that couldn’t be helped, that it’d happened to him as a kid too and the only solution would be to dye it back.

“Kid, go clean up. Your mom and I have to talk.” And just as he always did whenever Dabi told him to do anything, Takeshi nodded obediently before running off to the bathroom— Dabi had been his idol recently, hanging around him every second he could.

Which made this talk a whole lot scarier.

“Doll I—” “Dabi, I just wanna say thank you for being here.” You quickly interrupted him, wringing your hand nervously. What other reason would he have to talk other than to say he was done with teaching Takeshi? After all, Takeshi was already ahead of the curve, the schools could handle his quirk from here on out— there was probably no need for Dabi to stick around. But these last three months had been the easiest of your life, with the help with Takeshi you’d barely had to worry too much.

Because despite everything he’d done, you trusted Dabi to keep both you and Takeshi safe. That’d been enough.

“Takeshi has been… so so much better with you here, honestly I’ve never seen him this happy. He loves being around you, It’s all I fucking hear.” You laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re… you’re really helping us out Dabi.” The conflicted look on his face was enough to prepare you for the worst.

And his mind was conflicted indeed, all he’d promised was to get the brat’s quirk in check— he’d never promised all these family dinners and babysitting while you were out. He had better things to do than to watch a shitty movie with some snot-nosed brat while you did the dishes in the kitchen.

But then again, he’d been the one dragging out the training sessions, and he’d been the one that’d been showing up at the league less and less each week. He’d been the one passing out on your couch even though he’d told himself that this was just gonna be a quick thing.

He’d gotten too comfortable with all this fucking domesticity, and it was just causing him even more fucking problems.

“I can’t be here anymore Doll, you think they wouldn’t take your ass to Tartarus if they catch me with you? And if they find out who Takeshi really is, they’ll send him right to that asshole. He’ll do to Takeshi what he fucking did to me.” He kept his voice low, Takeshi had never liked hearing the two or you argue. “We can leave this place then, we can figure this out.” Your pleading almost made something in his chest twinge, but it was easy enough to shove that away.

“They could send him to the hero commission too, they’d make him a fucking soldier there.” He spat, the very idea was vile— for his own son to be working in what was one of the most flawed hero systems ever.

“If you run out on us again, you’re not coming back, Dabi. You’ll be out of his life for good. I mean it this time.” He hesitated, watching as Takeshi ran out the bathroom only to settle himself into the couch, cartoons already blaring way too loudly. And he hesitated again as he watched you: arms crossed and defensive, ready to protect your little fucked up family at any cost.

What he’d give to have just a little more fucking resilience.

“Fine.” He hissed. “You have one week to sort out all your shit, I’ll be back and we’ll take the kid and go. But don’t fucking say I didn’t do anything for you two.” Promptly he was pulled into a bone crushing hug, your face buried in his chest as tears dampened his shit. “I gotta do some stuff before we go, but seven days. Don’t go changing your mind.” “I won't! I won’t” Your grin wasn’t at all dampened by the sniffles escaping you. 

“Dabi, thank you so much.” 

And in that moment, it was a reminder of what had dragged him into your life in the first place. “Don’t fucking bail out on me, alright Doll?”

The nod into his chest was enough.

Masterlist

[burningthemidnightcityoil]

AVATARS OF THE LASTING ASPECTS

Let’s talk about Players and Aspects.

There are Two to Three Avatars of an Aspect, and then the Aspect itself. The two are the Player, and whatever Familiar / Sidekick / Fence / Companion they may have.

The Aspect itself is The Thing and the Whole of the Thing. For example-- you can picture Time without a Player. Its the measurement of events as they proceed; but its also the Begining and the End, the Pace-- Its Art is Music and its Artifact is Clockwork.

Think of all Aspects as like that.

The Avatar of the Aspect, or the Player, is capable of both introducing and controlling how the Aspect will function. If the player chooses bad choices, the Aspect will turn to those bad choices. The Aspect as the Thing and the Whole of the Thing is a neutral force of nature, only following its function, and its Avatar can dictate how that function is carried out. The Avatar and Aspect, however, are separate in this-- the aspect can still carry out its function without an avatar, just look at the Troll-Godless Earth.

The Player’s Class often tells you how the Player will dish out their Aspect.

So.

Why is this important?

Consider what we see in Homestuck.

In the Troll Sessions, the Aspects are balanced. There is an avatar for each aspect, and they carry out as players can and will and won’t to do.

But its the Human sessions where all this gets interesting.

Because the Human sessions aren’t balanced. They don’t have an avatar for each Aspect, and worse still, you can see that a powerful entity-avatar has corrupted the human sessions and one troll session (LE)-- The humans sessions is where it becomes blatant how the Aspects function without someone to direct or with someone with malicious intent.

Let’s start with Beta Session.

Here, we are introduced to Avatars of Breath, Light, Space and Time. Spacetime, its a given we need, because for anything to happen you need Space to fill and Time to pace.

But Light and Breath?

Breath is motion, progression, plot. Everything about the Beta Session is fast moving and constant action, and in fact, is too fast. Everything has to be done quickly, established quicker, and it jumps around.

This is a session without any sort of grounding-- There are no Real Aspects to tie everything down, so everything is all over the place.

Light is Relevance, Meaning and Symbols; Eyes and Color, Consciousness (lights on and everybody is home). There is next to nothing dark about what we’re seeing-- intention is often made plainly clear, most of the characters are in their right minds, and the Beta Session is chocked full of Symbols and Meaning and the promise that things will be made Clear if we can only Look.

But the problem here-- is that its too much all at once. Like above, there are no Real Aspects to ground the Ideals we have. We are given all this information, but have no fucking idea how to process it or where to put it, or what’s relevant to what.

Without Avatars of the Real Aspects (Void, Doom, Blood, Rage, Heart), there is no SENSE. And the Guardians that are there, are just that-- Guardians. They hold an Aspect, but don’t do much with it.

The Aspects that are the Thing and the Whole of the Thing are there, but they merely Are, and do not bend to or over the whims of anyone.

--- Until the Trolls come in, do things start making Sense.

Let’s talk the Alpha Session.

So we have Avatars of Life, Void, Hope, and Heart.

Life is Health, Experience, the Breaking of Impossibility and Normalcy. The Players are Alive, and surprisingly Well, in spite of their awful circumstances. Roxy and Dirk should’ve Died (Dirk fell in the middle of the Ocean as a Baby, how did he survive? Roxy fell in the midst of Carapacians, how was she not Eaten?). And yet, they’re just ordinary teenagers.

But now, the Avatars are forced to live through horrible circumstances. There is no Time or Space-- No way to move forward, and no Space to grow. Just Surviving through all Impossibility-- And its fucking awful.

Hope is Coherence, Belief, Fantasy and Divinity. The fact that the players are experiencing something wholly fantastical-- a literal Alien Empress has come to take over Earth, there are Alien Monsters outside of Jake’s door, their best friends are 500 years into the Future or are in another universe entirely, Apocraplyse and Metaphysical-- That’s a helluva a thing to have.

But now all they have is Hope. Hope that there’s gonna be something better. Hope that something is gonna come down-- and ye gods, that’s awful. They’re living 2020 without it ever being 2020.

And their hope player is a self-serving jackass.

Heart is the Inner Self and Character, the Ego and Persona, the Facet and Aesthetic, Love and Soul and Self. Each character is appropriately theme’d-- Jane is the Heiress to a Cooking Empire and literally acts like the Betty Crocker character we see on the logo (not the Batter Witch). Roxy is a Scientist, and has a Science Lab, and she loves cats and wizards. Jake is a movie enthusiast with a love of adventure, and literally has a Tomb Raider Island just outside his door. And Dirk is surrounded by Robots and Brobots, and quite literal (and distorted) reflections of himself.

And did we mention the Romance Problems.

So many Romance Problems.

Heart here is one of our First Real Aspects. And lot of Dirk’s stress comes from being one of the only Real Aspect Avatars, and trying to temper nearly everyone. Remember that music can be played to the beat of one’s heart-- Heart here is trying to play Time, and uh-- well--

I mean, you tried but...

Void is Irrelevance, the meaningless Physical, the Dark and the Deep, the Incomprehensible. The world is real damn it, and suddenly it doesn’t matter as much anymore. The Session is Void, void of life, void of hope, void of heart, until something comes along and fixes it.

One of the Real Aspects, and it more or less just sits there like a Generic Object. Literally only Roxy is thrilled about this session and for good reason-- she’s the only one in her element. Void fills in what Space doesn’t-- and it doesn’t do that good of a job because NOTHING IS HERE.

... So how many of you called Act 6 meaningless? How many of you had quit ship come Act 6? Feel bored or disappointed? Void did its job, didn’t it.

So.

What about the Aspects that Aren’t here?

Easy, the Trolls fill in what Classes and Aspects are missing. Kanaya brings in Sylph, Karkat Blood, Gamzee Rage and Bard, Sollux Mage and Doom, Terezi Mind, and Vriska brings in Thief (Though it can be argued that Jack Noir originally brought in Thief and Rage).

As  an Avatar of Rage, Gamzee is mean to bring Contrivance, Madness and Passion, the Self Evident Truth. The Problem here, is that he only brings in Madness. Take the Juju Episode. He isn’t the Avatar of Rage itself, he’s the Avatar of the Lord of Time’s Rage-- He comes in to do the work of LE, not the work of the real Rage Aspect.

A real avatar of Rage would’ve shown our Alpha Players that they can change the system to favor them-- because this is bullshit.

As Avatar of Mind, Terezi brings in the Outer Self, the Choice, Cause and Effect, Superego and Karma. The Multiverse at your disposal. When she is down because of Gamzee, suddenly you lost all your Choices and there is no Karma (Pre-retcon Meteor).

Mind is also Memory and the Saved Game. If it wasn’t for Terezi, John would not have been able to go back and fix things. For a Narrative, Saved Games aren’t particularly Clean-- But SBURB is also a Game and a Story. We’ve seen what happens when the Player dies and lives are lost-- but imagine if you can just go back to a Saved Game and redo an action without having died in the first place.

That’s Mind.

As Avatar of Blood, Karkat provides not Character-- but You. Your Place, Yourself, Your Choice. Blood is the most Grounded and the Most Real of the Aspects. Everything might be Fake, but You, the Reader, are here and making it real. Blood falls under being Self-Driven, Promises and Friendship, Collective and Shared. Only as strong as your greatest weakness.

When he is down, you’ve lost Everything. When the Avatar of Blood flees, all those bonds and promises go out the window (Murderstuck). When he dies, there is nobody left but despair (Bad End).

As Avatar of Doom, Sollux provides Destruction, The Limit and the Crossed Line, Inevitability and the Impossible-- Death at the End. No matter how bad that seems, Doom isn’t a Bad Aspect. Its the Cleaner. Something has gone wrong, and there’s no way to fix it, you can take solace in the fact that it’ll be over soon. Doom is a very sorrowful aspect, with a thankless but needed job.

He tends to avoid the Human’s (and yet looks up human culture) cos he’s not that interested (Doom avoids the Players). When he’s defeated by the Avatar of Hope, Murderstuck seemingly has no End (and yet, he isn’t dead, just changed). When he leaves to go hang out with Friends once the Humans arrive, Doom has left them (Their journey is guaranteed to succeed).

Sollux has a frightful job, being an Avatar of Doom.

And what of the Muse and the Lord.

Muses are Inspirational. You have something that inspires you to create. Calliope is that inspiration. The Avatar of Space inspires its creation.

And the Lord? Well, he’s the Creator and the Director of the Piece. The Avatar of Time ensures Creation.

Worse though, is when Caliborn proves to be a malicious creator and director, and he literally takes Avatars as his own.

Gamzee, an Avatar of Rage, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Rage. His Madness. Spread either via Murderous Intent or Juju.

Equius, an Avatar of Void, is now an Avatar of Caliborn’s Void. His Physical Reality.

Dirk, an Avatar of Heart, fights so hard not to be Caliborn’s Heart. And plenty of Dirk’s other selves Fail this Fight. Bro is merely a distilled version, and that’s horrible enough. Hal fails outright, and his nature tends toward maliciousness toward all other players.

And Homestuck. The Alpha Timeline? -- Its Caliborn’s Time.

And you Will Follow it. You have no other Choice.

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side A: “Keep Your Head Up”

Art by @markmefistov

~ In which a humble gardener unlocks many powerful Doors at once...

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “Keep Your Head Up” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 1.9k words

It’s been a few days since Kipling returned from the realm of The Empress. Now that she can call upon her third eye whenever she wants, practicing grey magic comes a lot smoother to her. Ozy spends this time in the Palace Gardens showing Kipling how to use her tethers, as well as other features that exist between herself and her familiar…

“Why have I never heard of satellites before?” Kipling asked while she adjusted the switches on her gauntlets.

Ozy stood not far off from her, doing the same. “To be honest, I didn’t learn about satellites until after I came to the library. It’s just another one of those pieces of knowledge that was hidden from us. But it would explain why there were so many lemurs living around the temple.”

Kip nodded. “And why so many of our cousins kept them as pets or familiars.”

Ozy looked over at Kipling and exhaled happily. “There’s still so much about the Doors that we have to uncover. And now I don’t have to do it alone. I’m so happy you’re here with me, coz.”

Before Ozy could make the first move, Kip stepped up and hugged him.

“I’m happy I’m here too. I’m excited.”

“You should be!” Then Ozy picked her up and swung her around until her legs flared out. “Opening Doors is fun.”

Kipling shrieked a little, but held on through Ozy’s spinning. When her feet were firmly planted to the earth, Ozy steadied her by the shoulders and said, “Okay. Let’s take care of these Rooms.”

He quickly summoned the motherboard and started activating the glyphs to the Doors he had previously marked. Meanwhile, Kipling called on Taro and she opened up a small Door of her own for the lemur to pass through.

“What are we doing again?” Kip asked once Taro came out on the other side of the Door as a glowing satellite.

Patiently, Ozy said, “I’m locating the special Doors that I’ve marked in the past. Once I reveal them, you and Taro are going to use your tethers to turn the Doors until they’re all facing each other. I’ll open them and then you’ll lock off the exits.”

It sounded simple enough. 

Ozy did not stay by Kipling’s side for very long. Kip watched in awe as he relied on his gauntlets to climb and swing his way up through the framework. For Ozy, it was merely a playground. He cartwheeled and somersaulted in and out of Doors. Taro whistled as she followed him. The grey mage showed her where to tie Kip’s tethers before backflipping off the Doors and landing on the precarious surfaces. 

As Kip felt the Doors hum and their glyphs imprinted on her heart, she wondered if she would ever be able to traverse the framework the way Ozy did.

“Okay. Now!” Ozy called as he hung upside-down from one of the many thousands of rungs.

Kipling used all ten fingers to curl and drag the Doors so that they were facing each other. What she didn’t expect was the way they would tug on her too.

“Ozy!” Kip gasped as her feet left the ground and she came soaring towards him. He didn’t, however, panic at all. Ozy smiled as he caught Kip by the waist and used his own body weight to haul them both around the bar like they were a pair of trapeze artists. 

“Don’t let go of your tethers. Pull!”

Even though her stomach was doing backflips, Kip trusted Ozy knew what he was doing. She reinforced the bindings around her wrists and tugged with all her might.

The Doors groaned in protest. 

“Good. Now hold it there.” Ozy maneuvered the two of them onto a solid surface and let go of Kip temporarily. She balanced on a narrow beam in the framework while he guided his arms in the majestic rotations required to open all the Doors.

Kip gasped at the feeling of so many glyphs whispering with energy at once. 

“That’s wide enough, Ozy,” she said without thinking. She could feel what lay behind those Doors. If Ozy opened them too far, it would unleash pandemonium. The grey mage heeded Kipling without argument. He passed her the reins, giving her control over locking them.

There were eight Doors in all that fed into a single Room.

Kip held steady to her tethers while the marked Rooms emptied themselves into the new, long chamber. Kipling felt the glyphs shudder as so many entities passed over them. Whatever was crossing those thresholds felt wild and weirdly shaped.

“What are those things, coz?” Kip whispered.

A muscle twitched in Ozy’s jaw. “Monsters.”

Kip shot him a look as she started to close off the Doors.

He added, “But thanks to you, they’re all in one place now.” He placed his hand on Kip’s shoulder. “We should head back to the conservatory. Nadia made me promise not to be late for lunch.”

Ozy and Kipling joined Nadia and Asra in the Palace Conservatory. Taro ran up to greet Faust, Chandra, and Abaco while their humans made themselves comfortable on the breezy furniture. 

“Missed you.” Kip whispered to Asra once she got close enough. He slipped one arm around her waist and the other over her shoulders while he pressed a happy kiss to her temple.

“I might have strolled past the garden a few times to see what you were up to.”

Kip turned to face him, unable to fight back the blush rushing up her neck. “Yeah? Did you see the part where I almost got sucked into a Room full of boogeymen?”

Asra’s smile went from affectionate to something more vulpine as he stole a kiss. “I did see that. You were so cool about it.”

“Sure I was.” Kip let him have one more kiss before pulling back. She didn’t want to be rude like last time, getting all caught up in Asra while Ozy and Nadia were–

Kip and Asra mirrored each other’s looks of incredulity as soon as they registered what they were seeing across from them. Compared to Kip and Asra, Ozy and Nadia’s position was much more relaxed against the lounge. Ozy confidently dragged Nadia’s leg over his own as he brought her to rest against him.

Kip blinked hard. Was that really Ozy who was kissing the Countess as if he knew exactly what he was doing?

When Ozy and Nadia finally parted and he registered the awestruck look on Kip’s face, he blushed, but laughed good-naturedly. “Oh come on, coz. Now you know what it’s like to be me — always having to watch your friends get very cozy with each other.”

Asra chuckled and rubbed Kipling’s back while she still tried to wrap her mind around what she had just witnessed. Nadia looked as serene and composed as ever as she helped Ozy and herself assume an upright position.

“Oz, speaking of friends, isn’t there something you need to tell Kip?”

Ozy shot Nadia a grateful smile before announcing, “Right. Great news, Kip. I know where Khleo is!”

Kip blinked a few times. “Sorry. What?” 

Ozy happily rambled, “Not only is Khleo really strong, but she’s not afraid of anything, Kip!”

Kipling shook her head. “No. Back up, Ozy. Where is Khleo?”

Both Nadia and Asra held their breaths, closely watching Kip’s reaction as Ozy revealed the news. The grey mage gave a casual shrug and said, “Center City. She’s a bartender. And actually a fairly impressive operations manager and event planner, but I don’t think she knows that yet.”

Kip’s syrupy brown eyes widened as her fingers came up to brush the cowrie shell necklace that Ozy had long since returned to her.

“Khleo is here? In Vesuvia?”

*

*

*

The doors of the Chandrian Tavern Hall would be opening for happy hour soon.

“Does anyone know where Khlee is?”

Basil knew the answer to Samira’s question, but he didn’t comment on it. 

Gabe shrugged indifferently. “Who knows? They’ll show up when it’s time. They always do.”

The barhands finished their easy dinner of sourdough bread and sausage in silence. Basil offered to clear everyone’s plates. On his way to the kitchen, he set the dishes aside and took a detour towards the entrance to the basement. 

On the way, he came upon a low shelf curving out from the wall where the staff kept things like their keys, wallets, and sometimes food to take home at the end of their shifts. 

At the moment, there was something – no, someone – squatting in the tight corner where the shelf met the wall and there was barely any light.

Despite the strength of Khleo’s arms, the barhand looked quite small, folded up on themself like this, hugging their knees to their chin.

Basil did the best he could to get close enough in order to crouch behind Khleo. It was only at this proximity could he read the slight trembling between her shoulder blades. He waited for her to acknowledge him while he counted the uneven spirals and swirls in her wealth of dusty brown curls. 

“I hate him, Baz.” Khleo sniffed. “I hate him so much.”

Basil’s gaze moved on to the reddish brown freckles peppering the skin on her arms where her sleeves were rolled up.

“I know…. He’s a fucking bully.” Basil pressed a bread roll against her leg. “Eat something, Khlee.” 

Basil knew that pep talks didn’t really do much for Khleo in moments like these, so he just stayed there, eventually bringing his hand to her spine and rubbing it in tight circles while she got everything out of her system. Then she ate the bread in silence.

When her shoulders finally stilled, Basil asked, “You ready?”

Khleo sniffed one last time, dragging the back of her hand under her nose.

“. . . Yeah.”

Her voice had settled back into that familiar raspy tenor. Basil backed up to give Khleo some space as they rose to their feet. They were shorter than Basil by a handful of inches. But even with their head bowed while they wiped their eyes, they still carried so much presence.

Khleo rolled their shoulders and cleared their throat a few times. When they turned around, their eyes were still a little red, but only Basil and maybe a few of the other barhands would be able to tell. The patrons, however, would be too mystified by the army of freckles spanning the bridge of Khlee’s nose, their dark, expressive brows, full lips, and not to mention, the fine cuts of muscle that made up their arms.  

“Thanks, Baz,” Khleo said in passing as she stepped around him on a pair of surprisingly nimble feet. 

As Khlee took her place behind the bar, she was met with smiles and raucous greetings from the regulars. Several had plans to stay after the tavern closed for the night. This was when Khleo’s fight club meetings began. She gave them knowing winks and taunted some of the more cocky fighters.

Her smile only faltered when she came in view of the tavern owner, who was perched right by the set of hooks that held up all the aprons. He met her gaze unflinchingly, eyeing her like he did most of his employees – as if they were worthless until proven otherwise.

< Get what you need, cub. >

The sound of Khleo’s familiar reminding them what to focus on kept them from sliding back into those feelings of helplessness from earlier. After Khleo got their small apron and tied it about their waist, they joined the other barhands, who were already taking orders. 

Khleo plastered another friendly smile to their face as they leaned over the bar and folded their arms in a way that could easily distract.

“Hey. Welcome to the Chandrian,” Khleo said, flexing a bit to draw the patron’s attention away from her eyes. With one hand, she slid a stained menu towards them. With the other, she flipped an empty glass into the air.

“What can I get started for you?”

[lonestarbabe]

The Pie

[AO3]

TK just wants to make Carlos a nice meal, but he ends up having a much needed heart to heart instead (about the happenings of 2x08).

“I’m okay,” T.K. assures Carlos when he’s been asked if he is okay for the ninth time, and it’s not a lie. He is okay when you think of okay as being a middle ground between awful and good. He’s getting through the day, and he’s learned that, sometimes, that has to be enough, but it’s not enough for Carlos, who has been on edge since the whole thing. T.K.’s learned the words “I’m okay,” are better than “It wasn’t a big deal,” because to Carlos, it was a big deal. It still is. T.K. learned to be careful how he phrased things when he made one too many ill-timed jokes about being through worse.

Carlos isn’t quick to anger, but like anyone, anxiety puts him on edge, and T.K. focuses on dancing around Carlos’ mood because he doesn’t want to think about what happens. He’d rather put all his attention on the man he loves because service always makes T.K. feel like he’s got everything under control. He’s not forced to think about himself.

“What’s all this?” Carlos asks when he sees the meal on the table. He looks tense, and T.K. wants to tell him that the dinner may not be gourmet, but it’s nothing to look grim about.

“I made you dinner.” He’d worked damn hard on it too. “I can cook, you know.”

“I’m just surprised.” Carlos has kept his difference. He hasn’t even stepped into the kitchen to give T.K. a hello kiss. The air conditioning kicks off, so the air between them becomes still and stale.

“You look mad,” T.K. finally says.

“I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.

“All I have is a concussion and not even the worst one I’ve had.” He speaks before he can think better of it, “It wasn’t even a near-death situation.”

“Being held hostage is automatically a near-death situation.” Carlos shakes his head. “And you’ve experienced gun violence twice in less than a year.”

“I was only hit by the gun the second time around.”

“You’re not dealing with it, T.K.,” Carlos says, dropping into the barstool.

T.K. eases onto the other stool. He leans over to give Carlo a kiss. “Just because I’m dealing with it well doesn’t mean I’m not dealing with it.”

“We haven’t really talked about it.”

“There’s not much left to say.” Carlos’ face falls. “Unless you have something you need to get off your chest. I know a lot happened to you that day as well.” T.K. puts some of the tuna casserole on his plate, and he pushes the dish towards Carlos. “Help yourself. It’s good. My mom used to make this for me.”

Carlos dumps a of couple spoonfuls onto his plate. “You’re bottling things up.”

“I’m not, really,” T.K. says between bites of food. “Do you like it?”

“You can’t go wrong with a casserole.” Carlos doesn’t look that invested in the meal, though. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I can go very wrong with a casserole.”

“T.K.,” Carlos admonished.

“What, Carlos?” T.K. raises his voice. “I keep telling you that I’m dealing with it, but you won’t let it go. I don’t know what you want me to say. If you need to talk about your feelings, I’m here to listen, but I have none of my own to talk about.”

“You’re lying to me. That’s a feeling I have.”

“Not telling you everything I feel is different than lying.”

“You say you’re okay, but you’re obviously not.”

“I’m acting normally,” T.K. insists.

“Yeah, acting, but I know that you’re not sleeping.”

“If you know that, you must not be sleeping either.”

“Mostly because I can feel you tossing and turning.”

“You should have told me I was keeping you up.” The last thing T.K. had wanted was to bother Carlos, but he also hadn’t wanted to spend his nights alone either. Insomnia was better with company.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but my point is that keeping whatever you’re feeling to yourself is not good for anyone. Being in a relationship means that when one of us isn’t okay, we’re not okay together.”

“I’m tired of feeling bad, so I’ve decided that I’m not going to give into those feelings anymore. We were doing so well, and then that shit happened and brought up stuff that gets in the way of that blissful feeling we had.”

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t get all of this off your chest.”

“Feelings always go away eventually.”

“Not when you don’t deal with them.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Babe, do you smell something burning?”

“Fuck,” T.K. said, flying off his chair to the oven. “My pie.” He scrambles to pull oven mitts over his hands. He pulls out a pie that’s a little too brown on the top. “I was trying to make a pie for you” He slams the plate on the counter and his fist on the counter. “And now it’s ruined.”

“Woah, there’s no need to get so worked up. The middle will still taste good,” Carlos promises him. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not the point.” T.K. hits the counter again, harder than the last time.

Carlos reaches over the counter and takes T.K.’s smarting hand in his. He keeps his hold as he gets up from his chair and walks around the counter to stand in front of T.K. “Don’t hurt yourself like that.” Carlos always gets a panicked look in his eyes when T.K.’s self-destructive side shines through. The pain doesn’t feel good, but it feels grounding, and it helps T.K. pull his head from the floaty land of thoughts that always leads to trouble.

“At least it will distract me from the concussion,” T.K. says, voice like a ceramic knife going through butter.

Carlos kisses T.K.’s hand and tugs him closer. “It’s just a pie. It’s nothing to cry over.” All T.K. wanted was to create a good evening for his boyfriend, but he’d forgotten to set the timer, and ruined his hard work.

“Yeah, well, why is it that nothing ever goes right? Every time I try to do something, it spirals into disaster territory.” He wonders why his endeavors always turn to hell. It seems like some cosmic force is working against him, showing him that for every victory, there will be multiple disasters.

“It’ll get better.”

“That’s the problem!”

“What do you mean?” Carlos asks, and T.K. feels stupid for opening his mouth because he doesn’t know how to make what he’s thinking make sense, which is exactly why he’d been dodging thinking about it all together.

“The good times all always end, and then they revert to being shitty times. Just when you start to get comfortable, life says, ‘Fuck you.’”

“Yeah, I guess it feels that way sometimes.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“You always have a but and then a positive, feel-good spin to add on.” That’s one of the things that T.K. likes so much about Carlos. He has unshakable optimism. He’s not naïve in his optimism, but he always believes there’s still good in the world. For all the bad he has seen, he still wants to trust that people are good, and he wants to help as many people as he can.

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you.”

“And that’s your positive spin.”

“Before it used to be your instinct to shut down or get angry when things got too real. Instead of talking about how you were feeling, you lashed out. You ran away. You got into fights.”

“I still do those things.” He’s still got a volatile edge that he can’t shake, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to shake it. He’s mellow most of the time, but when anxiety kicks in and his childhood traumas are tickled, he loses control.

“Sometimes, but you’ve also learned to do other things instead. Life is always going to have lows, but you know how to survive those lows.”

“I was scared I was going to die,” T.K. admits. “And there were times when I wouldn’t have cared. But this time, I did care because I finally knew what it meant to live without a weight on my chest, but now the weight is back. It’s there when I try to sleep. It’s there at work. It’s there when we have dinner or watch movies. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about how I actually have things to lose now. I have friends, a family, and a boyfriend who somehow loves me with his whole heart.” T.K. takes a breath. “And it’s not just about losing all the good people I now have in my life. I also look in the mirror and I realize that I don’t want to lose myself when I’ve only just started to be a person I don’t hate.”

Carlos nods in understanding. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

T.K. gives a small smile, “How’s that for talking about my feelings?”

“It’s a start.”

[ppaperheartss]

Confessions Of A Trained Assassin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: In which a baking mishap leads to secrets being exposed in the early hours of the morning

Warnings: some swearing, a load of fluff

A/N: I tried to make the reader as gender neutral as possible to make this oneshot more inclusive :) if anyone notices any details that make this less gender neutral please let me know. Any feedback and comments are appreciated!

Being a trained spy and assassin, Bucky knows a lot of things that he shouldn’t.

He knows that whenever Sam is working out in the gym alone he’ll listen to the Dreamgirls soundtrack, and his rendition of “And I Am Telling You” isn’t half bad.

He knows Steve has to write his phone passcode on the inside of his wrist under his watch strap every morning because he always forgets it, being the old man that he is.

He knows Stark likes to watch Disney movies when he struggles to get to sleep.

He knows Natasha can’t tell her left from her right and always has to use her fingers to check.

And Y/N… well, he doesn’t know anything.

You weren’t a new addition to the team - you had been there longer than Parker had - but Bucky just got so tongue tied whenever he was around you that his mind went fuzzy.

He doesn’t have a crush on you, though, no matter how much Sam tries to get him to admit it. No, you just have this weird power over him. When you first arrived at the compound everyone was shocked to see the super soldier so bashful. His cheeks tinted red and his posture sunk as he shook your hand, and his sheepish smile matched your curious one. 

He couldn’t hold a conversation with you for longer than a minute before leaving. His palms get sweaty and he can embarrassingly hear all of the gears in his metal arm whirr whenever you’re around. Your presence makes him nervous (but in a good way), and he can’t seem to control himself. The best way he can find to cope with it all is just to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible.

There was no way you intimidated the six-foot and pure muscle of a man, so did he just not like you? You talked to Natasha about it, and she just gave you a knowing smile and said he really didn’t not like you. Your mind melted that night trying to figure out her riddles.

“Earth to Bucky. Hello?” Bucky blinked back into reality as Sam waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim lights of the restaurant Steve had taken the whole team as a celebratory meal for the last successful mission. You had been undercover in Japan and were the guest of honour, and Bucky (despite hating Thai food) couldn’t say no to a meal in your favourite restaurant. He wacks his hand away and sinks back in his chair, gazing around the table.

You were seated almost directly across from him, between Tony and Steve. Bucky smiled as he watched you laugh and smile with your teammates, running your fingers through your hair absentmindedly. He watched as the rings that adorned your fingers shimmered in the light, and your eyes had a similar twinkle in them. Your eyes latched onto his and you threw him a cheeky smile - nose scrunched and mouth open wide - and all Bucky could do was sink back into his chair further.

He had been a charmer back in the day, but now all of that confidence had disappeared and he could barely manage to maintain eye contact with anyone he found remotely attractive for more than five seconds. 

He missed the pout on your face as he looked away.

The door swinging open from the kitchen caught everyone’s attention and the table grew silent as the group anxiously waited for their food to arrive. A few waiters made their way over, calling out the meals they had and handing them over to their designated person. 

“Pad Thai?” A waiter called out, and you squealed excitedly as you raised your hand, signalling it was yours. The waiter moved over to you, holding the plate with a small dish towel.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” He warned, moving to put the plate down in front of you. But you took it from him with ease, thanking him with a cheerful smile. The waiter stares at you almost in shock, and Bucky can’t help but notice the steam rising off of the plate and the way your fingertips glow red. But you don’t flinch, barely even notice the way your fingertips shine at the onslaught of blisters ready to form.

Tony notices the peculiar interaction before touching the plate. He recoils, hissing loudly and dumping his fingers unceremoniously in his glass of water. 

“Christ Y/N, that’s fucking burning.” He exclaims, and you simply laugh in response.

“I didn’t even notice. Must be too excited to eat it.” You respond, and Tony laughs as he shakes his head.

-

The kitchen is quiet as Bucky stirs the mixture delicately with a spatula. He couldn’t pronounce what he was making - it was a Sokovian dish Wanda had talked about months ago. Steve had told him that it was nearing Pietro’s anniversary and he wanted to do something nice for her - she had been helpful with his recovery back into normal life.

He enjoyed times like this; alone with his thoughts. He hummed a song he remembered hearing as a kid back in Brooklyn. His mother loved music. Bucky had three jobs at the time to save enough money to buy her a record player, and she would let him pick what record he wanted to listen to as she made supper. He remembers teaching Becca how to dance to his favourite song by letting her stand on his feet and guiding her around the living room. 

Pouring the mixture onto a dish he puts it into the preheated oven and leans against the counter as he sets a timer. He doesn’t know how long he cleans up for before he hears soft footsteps padding into the kitchen. He recognises that it isn’t Steve (he knows what Steve’s walking sounds like), and when he turns round he sees you with a mishevield head of hair and a sleepy smile.

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing,” you say as you jump up on the countertop across from him, peeking into the oven. “What is it?”

“It’s for Wanda,” he says as he finishes drying off the last of the dishes and begins to put them into their cupboards. Anything to keep him distracted from how welcoming you look, sitting there in fuzzy socks and pyjamas. “I think it’s a cake.”

“You think it’s a cake?” You snort, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s Sokovian, so your guess is as good as mine.” he says, turning round to face you. “Why are you up so late?” He asks, wringing the slightly damp dish towel in his hands.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You say mischievously, but he notices the bags under your eyes. You sigh at his silence and shake your head. “That mission was rough. My mind is running a mile a minute.”

He frowns sympathetically at you. “What did you do out there? That mission was long - what was it, two weeks?”

“A month,” you say, and his eyebrows raise in surprise. “It was pretty grim, seen some things I wish I never had.”

He notices how standoff-ish you’re being with your answers, and decides not to push it any further. 

You notice his understanding of your emotions, and are glad he doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Dinner was fun, wasn’t it?” He asks, and you quirk a brow.

“I thought Thai food wasn’t your thing.” You respond, and he manages a laugh.

“It’s not.” He answers truthfully, and you just laugh at him. “But it was your night, and I wanted to be there to celebrate with you.”

You smile at him, and he smiles back genuinely. His gaze drops quickly when he feels his cheeks begin to burn, and you open your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is this the longest conversation we’ve ever had?” You ask, and he sighs as he drops his head.

“I don’t-” He gets cut off by the beeping of the timer, and jumps to open the oven quickly. He grabs the tray with his metal arm - forgetting about the new heat sensors Stark had put in each of the fingers - and he yells out at the searing pain that quickly travels up his arm. 

“Bucky!” You yell, jumping off of the counter and quickly catching the dish before it smashes on the ground.

“Wait, Y/N no-” Bucky watches - more in astonishment than awe - as you put the dish on the counter with ease and hold his hand, looking for any signs of damage. 

“Can you move your fingers?” You ask, and when he doesn’t respond you look up to see him staring right back at you. “What is it?”

“How did you do that?” He asks, standing up straight with you.

“Do what?” You question, happily oblivious to how strange your actions were.

“You just held a searing hot glass bowl without even flinching. You did the same at the restaurant with the plate.” Your face grows hot at the realisation that he caught onto these little things, and you laugh awkwardly as you drop his hand.

“It’s uh- it’s embarrassing.” You admit, and Bucky tilts his head like a confused puppy.

“Y/N,” he says, and you sigh.

“When I was younger… I was never allowed to eat anything without my parent’s permission. So one night I decided to rebel and eat a whole carton of ice cream - without a spoon. I’ve lost all feeling in my finger tips because of it.” Bucky stares at you for what feels like eternity, before he bursts out laughing.

“Oh my God,” he manages through laughter and you shove his shoulder.

“It’s not funny!” You defend yourself, but the sight of tears of mirth rolling from his eyes has your doubled-over alongside him.

“Christ, Y/N,” he breathes out, wiping his face. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug with a cheeky smile on your face. “Now you know something about me that no one else does, and I’ll kill you if you ever tell anyone.” You threaten.

He grins, holding his hands up in defence. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

You smile, nudging his shoulder as you turn to make sure the dish didn’t get ruined. He watches you with a happy smile on his face. A sudden surge of confidence takes over him, and he inhales deeply.

“If you love ice cream so much, let me take you out to this ice cream parlour I know sometime.”

You turn back to him, and he grows bashful under your gaze. But you smile, reach out for his hand and give it a squeeze. “I’d love that.”

You both look at each other for a painfully long moment, and with the last ounce of confidence in his body Bucky leans down to capture your lips in his.

There is something Bucky knows about you that no one else does - what it feels like to kiss you in the early hours of the morning.