#therapy is not a fix all and i dont think sitting around talking about his childhood would make dean any better

[sammygender]

a lot of my thoughts about dean winchester come down to the fact that he really is just eternally about fourteen years old. and not a well-adjusted 14 year old, either, but a traumatised and abused 14 year old with intense attachment and abandonment issues. he was that 14 year old! and hes never grown past it. hes probably more like it now and more controlled by it than he WAS when he was 14 years old. so i cant help but feel unbearably sad for him. but sadly, he is not 14 years old. he is an adult man in positions of power reenacting abusive behaviours. idk how to fix him. hed have to really and genuinely want to change idk what it would take. he should do dbt though

[cupoftaae]

hello! I really like that jimin prompt! Do u think u can write a part 2 ? 🥹

ah im so glad you liked it! thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy part 2 as well! <3

Warnings- swearing, mentions of addiction, angst,

read part 1 here

The next morning, Jimin woke up in his work office chair, sweaty and nauseous.

The memories of the past few hours slowly sunk in as he sat up, remembering why exactly he was in his work room in the first place-and not in your bed.

A loud clash was heard from the kitchen, alerting him to jump up and follow, his eyes immediately set on you.

You sent a wicked glare before looking back down "I dropped a mug. Im fine" you muttered, but he was already next to you, assisting.

"dont cut your hand-" he mumbled pushing your fingers away from the broken glass on the kitchen tile.

"You look like shit" you mumbled, not fighting him and instead walking to grab a different mug instead.

He shrugged, "well yeah-"

"are you even sorry?"

He looked back up at you, eyes wide, "yes...of course I am"

You scoffed, "what you said to me last night was not okay..."

He silently nodded, picking up the glass and discarding it before leaning against the island counter.

"it fucking hurt, i didnt sleep at all..."

He gave you a sympathetic look, "im sorry, y/n...I really am, I was not sober and-"

"I dont care!! I dont care if you were sober or not....to sit there in any state of mind and question my love and devotion for you is just...is just fucking cruel, jimin"

He sighs, "what is it that you want me to do, or say?"

You shrug and slam your mug down "look at you! you are a fucking mess!"

Jimin simply just looked back at you, not knowing what to do in this situation other than let you feel what you feel.

You paused for a moment, "...I want you to go back to seeing your therapist"

"no!" he stood up quick, shaking his head, "god no, y/n, i am not doing therapy again, fuck"

"well if you cant talk to me you need to talk to someone...because if not, we-" you gesture between the two of you "are done, and i mean it, because im not going to sit around if you dont wanna get better for yourself let alone our relationship."

He sighs, pacing a bit, "i do want to get better" he nods, "I do, I dont want you to leave...." his voice cracks as he sighs, turning away.

You look at his back, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling both your scents. "then prove it, Jimin"

You hate that you cant just run up and hug him, you hate that you cant kiss him and tell him he will be okay, then go lay down and embrace eachother until you fell alseep.

You can-...but you cant.

Jimin is a grown man, he needs to have the self awareness that this issue is his, and he needs to fix it before he looses everything...and he needs to know that you will be waiting for him at the end of the finish line.

A small sniff is heard, "ill go to the therapist ok?"

You nod although he cant see you, "good....thats really good Jimin...thank you"

He wipes his face with his sleeve before looking back at you, "im sorry" he whispers

You cant say its okay...because it still is far from it, but you will accept his apology and effort to try

"thank you for apologizing" you nod, "I think we will have a lot of work to do in the next coming weeks...so, I just hope you are serious about this"

"I am...I promise!!" he spoke up, coming over to grasp your hands

"okay, good" you nod, kissing his cheek and walking away

Jimin makes a mental note to make an appointment with his previous therapist for tomorrow

His addiction has always been a struggle-

but he would give up anything to keep you, even if he said things he doesnt mean and will regret for a long time.

He will change, he will prove it to you.

[ginnsbaker]

I hate reader so much 💀 like all of their actions leave me completely flabbergasted you have that dream about hurting a woman you love (or loved i can’t even tell anymore) because you know you’re a toxic person whos been using and hurting her and immediately after ending that jump straight back into things with another woman. I really want pietro to see reader maybe with yelena and just snap and have a fight and then somewhere in that lets it slip what wanda did cos reader needs to know and i’m interested to see how they react to that tbh i can see if reader does find out then wanda potentially getting the wrong idea like reader only suddenly cares out of pity or something like that. Also yelena is a weird one cos in some ways shes very similar to wanda in the sense that she doesn’t seem to want to give up on reader (genuinely cannot understand why but uno). Yelena surely must know that reader is not good for her (especially not without therapy and lots of it) and there are other/better options. It just seems that yelenas sense of self worth isn’t great either if she’s so willing to keep putting herself through things with reader. I also think if reader really cared about yelena they wouldn’t be perusing anything yet, since they ended things with wanda they haven’t really been alone and not knowing how to be alone seems to be doing more damage than good. Now im gonna talk a bit about wanda, I don’t know how you have me feeling so much sympathy towards a cheater (especially as someone who was cheated on). One thing i wanted to ask is why did wanda cheat? Like i can’t really get my head around it because there didn’t seem to be any problems or sense of unhappiness from her? Like seriously every chapter I’m waiting for a reveal like she was being drugged or blackmailed or something anything cos I can’t understand why. But anyway, im glad wanda is getting therapy finally someone in this fic is it’s about damn time. The dream in the start made me so sad because its so true reader is hurting wanda so much and shes just taking it all because she’s convinced herself it’s justified and she deserves it. Even when she was defending reader against her brother it was just heartbreaking because reader doesn’t deserve that. And like i know she was wrong and she cheated but even then she doesn’t deserve what reader is doing to her using her for sex and being so rough just doesn’t sit right with me at all. Also hearing reader say they wanted to hurt her is sad i was half expecting something saying that they just said that for yelenas sake and deep down they still love her but nope. And at this point i dont know if they should work things out even though i wanted them to at the start. The more i read the more i think reader fucked up more and keeps fucking up and honestly wanda deserves better than giving herself up and letting someone use her. Im not team yelena or team wanda im more team therapy or team make wanda happy 😂

💀 anon, is this you? if not, i hope you assign yourself an emoji cos this is GOLD reaction haha (minor spoilers ahead-wont affect you experience i think)

Reader - Not gonna make an excuse about her actions because Pietro is right. But Delayed-onset PTSD, is showing us the ACTUAL effects of the cheating on R's mental and emotional stability.

Piet - He promised not to tell R, and he will respect his sister's wishes. But... yes, R will find out.

Yelena - I didn't want to say anything about Y being that she's the one who's least fucked up, but to go after someone hard and refuse to give up on someone despite the red flags is also a cause for alarm. R and Y were each other's first loves. R got married. Then miraculously, R got divorced and Y couldn't believe the window opened to The One That Got Away/Love of her life. How do you let that opportunity go? Yelena is stubborn because she grew up with R, she think she still knows R, still knows how to fix her, that she can get better for her in the long run. Don't we all, at one point, chose to stick with someone even tho they are bad for us, because love gave us hope?

Wanda - "we accept the love we think we deserve" as long as Wanda hasn't forgiven herself, she thinks she deserves every bad thing thrown her way. Sometimes people really are genuine remorseful. This is why I questioned my belief if I can forgive cheating (and IFISS and ILGOSS was born)

Back to Reader - someone mentioned Reader is becoming the villain of the story. I kinda lean on that because out of everyone, R is the one who needs therapy, especially because on the surface she seems sane. She IS trying to still be good, to be decent, to give people what they want, and the thing that happened with Wanda was her momentarily giving in to her darkest deepest desires, and snapped out of it, stopped herself further by ghosting Wanda again. But this strategy clearly isn't working anymore, so yeah, therapy for everyone!

whew! I hope you get some insights about this, but as the story unfolds, i hope all the things ive said above will bleed through.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

Even more so for sending this reaction. I love reading everyone's thoughts!

[sxftkxssxs]

i have a request! how would the courtiers react if they were there when mc broke a leg/how would they act throughout the healing process? -broken leg anon :3

ksdjfldsk I hope ur recovery is going/will go well, dear! And I hope this brings you some happiness <3

The coutiers with a broken leg mc

Volta

she jumps 50 feet in the air no joke

she heard the crack and that so unsettling break of ur leg and

She runs faster than ever to get you actual helps since she’s kinda, not good in the medical field-

She doesn’t know how much she can help with ur recovery-

but she tries!

she actually offers you food?? and everyone looks at her when she does it bc-

She’s never done that with anyone before??

She does check in with you when she remembers to!

hugs <3 (she’s very tiny dont squeeze too hard)

i wouldnt ask her to help you get anywhere since she’s not built for that but she tries to make sure there’s someone to help-

You groaned, pulling yourself to sit up. Immediately you could smell something amazing. You looked over to see a gorgeous plate of food on your bedside table. There was a hurried note beside it, most obviously in volta’s handwriting. (And drool?? on the paper?)

‘I hope this helps you feel better, countess mentioned yesterday was hard for you.

- Volta’

Valerius

you can see the immediate disgust and concern mixed on his face when he hears a crack

takes one look at your leg and almost throws up

mans almost went to vlademar but knew they’d just cut ur leg off most likely

When ur leg is finally not..a mess

he is checking in on you and helping in his own way

he does this by watching ur body language, if ur tense he gets literally everyone to either leave u alone or- not be shitty

no do not ask for any physical help or affection in public <3 he’ll walk away from u

if anyone asks he literally goes into hard denial

he won’t let you drink with him bc well- if you get drunk with a broken leg he’s not responsible for whatever you break next

no he will not help you *putting his arm out to keep you stable*

You gave yourself a slight reminder to thank Valerius later. The halls were quiet, and easy for you to make your way through. Valerius had people clear out certain places that had been way too cluttered for you to move through. Now you didn’t have to take the long routes, thank god. When you got to your seat at the table you saw a little note under your plate.

‘Don’t break anything else, people complain too much when they have to clean.

- Valerius’

Vlastomil

dear god no

he screams so loud when he sees your leg all twisted

everyone in the palace starts running to you bc of his screech

he does stay near you but mostly to see if this will permanently damage you

always describes you as a fragile creature compared to his baby worms

the one who always keeps you balanced with no complaints

probably gifts you a worm based gift (throw it away and he’ll cry)

literally forces you to relax sometimes bc ur getting cranky about not being able to walk properly

do not let him cook for you. that’s portias job and he’ll burn the palace down

appreciate him bc if he’s gone ur stuck with Valerius to keep you balanced

You let out a little huff, giving Vlastomil a soft thank you. He doesn’t respond but appreciates it nonetheless. When he leaves you, there’s a note in your pocket. You didn’t think him to be the one to be sneaky..

‘Humans are such fragile creatures, maybe you’d be even cuter as a worm. For now keep yourself in one piece. I’ll keep working on that work idea..

- Vlastomil’

Vulgora

literally laughs at you when they hear that crack

You have to yell and throw a shoe at them to get them to go get help

they aren’t much help at all in any field of recovery besides physical therapy if you need it

you heard me. physical therapy.

they move all the time, they know if something is way wrong with how youre moving

they’re really harsh with words but they do try to help you move better

how else are they supposed to fight you on fair grounds mf

you’ll actually owe them a lot of thanks for this,

they’re good at helping you get used to walking after you no longer need to be so careful

they wanna see how your fighting styles changed after this </3

You let out a sigh, you knew you’d have hell to pay after asking Vulgora for help but jesus. You didn’t expect them to keep running their mouth the whole time. Ignoring the talking though, you had to be grateful for how patient they were being. When you finally got done with Vulgora, you found a note on your nightstand. Classic all small caps Vulgora handwriting.

‘DONT BREAK ANYTHING ELSE. HELPING YOU TAKES FOREVER AND IM READY TO DUEL AGAIN. LETS HAVE A FIGHT ONCE YOU CAN MOVE PROPERLY!

- VULGORA’

Vlademar

oh no

no actually that’s all they say when your leg breaks-!

they’re super iffy to be around but, what’s the point in just examining your leg??

they actually fix you up and don’t rip you open???

you shouldn’t be surprised, if they were going to examine you they would’ve already done it

“this isn’t a big deal vlademar” “if i don’t have you in perfect condition soon the fools body will get ruined >:((“

it’s mostly about the body but? if they’ve gotten attached to you it’s a lot more than that

basically the mother hen over you out of everyone

also the one who assigned them all the jobs of how to help you

(they’re very disappointed in Valerius 😐)

very content with themselves when you’re all fixed up

You shiver at the coldness of Vlademar’s hands. “Is this really necessary to check Vlademar-?” Their look is immediately shutting you up. “Yes, I’ve got to make sure the fools body and you are fully intact.” Once theyve finally stopped looking all over your leg for any injury left, they let you go. Leaving a note on your desk.

‘Let’s keep you healthy. I wouldn’t want you or the fools body disappearing so soon. I’ll check in again soon.

- Vlademar’

[actualbird]

[EDIT: ive written this concept into a full oneshot!!!! read "designed to send mixed signals, one image made up of different pixels" on ao3 hehe]

wc: 617

totally not based on personal experience but i have a scene (maybe a whole fic but shh) where artem wing goes to Therapy for the first time

and during his intake session he pulls out his phone bc he wrote a 3 page outline that contains his entire mental health history (diagnoses, medications, doctors, all this information has been cross checked with emails and records yadda yadda yadda, it's all the evidence compiled digestibly. this is his first time seeing a therapist but hes been treating his malfunctions for a while, how could he not? if theres something that is incorrect, it always must be managed so that he can continue working. and even though his performance has not taken a dive, loved ones had urged him to start seeing a therapist. "theres this sadness in you, artem," mc had said one night. her smile is forgiving but artem thinks he shouldnt be forgiven. "it's okay to get help for it.") and he runs through it completely detached as if hes a case study that hes already picked apart and hes simply sharing his findings with the therapist.

10 minutes later and hes finished going through the outline and the therapist is like "thank you for sharing all of that. the diagnoses, symptoms, and treatment are very important. but can you tell me about you?"

artem feels something like fear bloom in his chest. "about...me?"

"yes. for example, what do you enjoy doing? what are your hobbies?"

"i dont think thats...important."

"it is, though. tell me about yourself."

"i---"

and artem just sits there. for another 10 whole minutes. the seconds pass and each tick of the clock in the room feels like a horrible judgement towards him because hes wasting the time of a professional. he cant think of anything about himself thats worth talking about in regards to the things about himself that he wants to fix.

"i apologize," artem starts fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. desperately, he wants to pull at his tie, maybe thatll tug the answers out of his throat. "i dont know what to say."

"thats alright," the therapist assures him. "you can say anything about yourself. theres no right or wrong answer."

"but---" and he cant make any words at all to describe himself. his mind spirals and overthinks because when he looks inside, theres nothing...there.

once, when artem was a child, he was given a coloring book. after artem had finished coloring, his teacher told artem that he had no talent in coloring whatsoever. and maybe thats the crux of the problem right there. artem never filled his life or personality or anything with the color needed to be a person. all he is is a mess of faulty processes and one day the people he loves will realize that everything that makes him broken, well, it's just not worth the effort to deal with. especially since theres nothing about him as a person thats worth keeping around. especially since artem had failed to create himself as a person worth keeping around.

"artem?" the therapist tries to pull him out of his thoughts, but artem has lost himself in the endless logic circles of his mind. his chest hurts. he wants to talk but he doesnt know what to say. "artem, are you with me?"

artem shakes his head, ashamed. he shouldnt have gone here. there are some things that cant be fixed.

some things that should just be shoved in a box and left in the dark to rot.

(basically artem "i have been given a bad grade in therapy, something both normal to be afraid of and possible to achieve" wing: the fic)

[inoxske]

a few my hero academia headcanons (mostly kirishima, kiribaku, and bakusquad) (3rd year)

kirishimas laugh is a very wonderful sound that everyone fucking adores, so lots of people think hes flirting because he laughs a lot but he isnt lol

i believe all the bakusquad can sing but their all shy so they pretend to be really bad but theyre all closeted theater kids so when 'the room where it happened' from Hamilton played one night at karaoke night they all sang and hamonized and everyone freaked the fuck out

bakugo and denki cross dress because it makes them feel powerful and they are often seen in fashion magazines and shit

kirishima is best friends with bakugos parents and all of katsukis family adore eijirou

bakugo cries the second any kind of animal or child is hurt in movies

adding onto that ^ bakugo loves kids, more so as he gets older

kirishima will go to interviews for really important people, but because of his adhd he forgets important shit so he has to call bakugo while in the interview and ask and they always keep the clip because he always puts him on speaker

kirishima will put on classical music but like really nice music and dance with people in the dorms. hes danced with all the girls, and was caught slowdancing with katsuki once at like 3am on a saturday (aizawa cried like a little bitch)

all of 1a calls aizawa dadzawa by the time 2nd year rolls around. like, if someone calls him aizawa now he thinks hes in trouble or someone died or some shit.

kirishima can handle any kind of spice because one of his mamas is half latino and so he basically grew up with lots of spice. bakugo challenged him to a spicey wing eating thing and they ended up having to stop because bakugo ran out and threw uP BC HE WASNT GONNA LOSE OKAY

kirishima will escort young ladies home if they feel unsafe, or he will just scare the shit out of men who harass anyone

sero becomes super fucking popular with ladies like everyone thinks hes hot and he doesnt know why but like- BITCH- ..... he is so fine, next

bakugo and midoriya go to therapy together and work shit out. kirishima ends up having to go with bakugo to therapy a lot bc he says he gives him the courage to open up and not feel weak 🤨..... idk sounds kinda gay to me

a majority of class A has a mission near an animal shelter, and damage is done to the shelter and a really dangerous aggressive dog starts running at mina and bro this dog- this dog is fucking BIG like wolf big and out for BLOOD and is so loud and kiri, ya know, grew since first year and is now like a tank like 6"7 and 300 pounds of muscle and so he gets infront of mina and just goes "HEY!" in a really fucking deep like angry as shit voice and makes himself big and the bear of a dog immediately flinches and runs back into its kennel. and everyone kind of freezes and looks at him, and hes like "jeez, i didnt mean to be so loud" and bakugos like "oh no that was the hottest thing ive ever seen in my life" anyways

bakugo can cook, kirishima can bake

bakugo gets super bad sensory overload sometimes when hes had an especially bad experience with a quirk or something and will have meltdowns about his clothing or how sweaty he is, or how loud his quirk is and how bright it is and kirishima will help him. when it first happened everyone handled it really well, and turned off the lights, and momo made him a weighted blanket and noisecancelling shit and kirishima put his head on his chest to help him match his breathing and shit. v wholesome.

kirishima and bakugo got in a super big fight near the beginning of second year when bakugo was in a bad mood and called him weak again and kirishima blew up on him and told him how he wasnt gonna let katsuki walk all over him just because he feels insecure or weak or whatever and kirishima got super fucking pissed because bakugo got defensive and told him he shouldnt take it so seriously and that it was true and he needs to get stronger and kirishima was like fuck you, at least i admit i have some weaknesses to overcome, and some things that need to be fixed, and they were both hurt and shit but bakugo wouldnt apologize so he stopped talking to him for a while. and then kirishima kept teaming up with midoriya and working together and bakugo confronted him and was obviously trying not to cry and apologized and shit

^ adding onto that. kirishima is equals with bakugo, and will always be equals with bakugo. he never ever comes back crying first, and he always leaves bakugo alone until he apologizes. thats called being partners bitch, and bakugo tries his best. they barely ever argue, unless its about mac and cheese or some shit

kirishima loves calling bakugo pet names, and bakugo will absolutely never admit to anyone it makes him feel like the strongest person alive, but he will to kirishima

kirishima called bakugo "puppy" once while he was sleepy and bakugo broke down crying because he didnt know why it made him feel so nice. kirishima felt horrible. they werent even dating yet 💀

when minas bored she'll teach one of the boys a dance and make a tiktok with them. bakugo is surprising good at dancing.

bakugo, kaminari, and kirishima are the absolutely fucking hilarious when left alone together.

bakugo is super innocent so everyone will ask him random questions at the most random times just to see his whole body blush red and he turns into a grandma, like "bakugo how do lesbians have sex" and hes like "WH- WHAT THE- EW!!! GROSS I DONT KNOW! WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THAT!!! YUCKY!!!"

bakugo has to have braces for a year and then wears a retainer and kirishima likes it alittle too much while everyone else thinks he looks fucking stupid

denki will go wake up aizawa and sleep in his bed when he gets sick or has a nightmere. present mic will make denki breakfast if he comes to the dorms to find his spot taken.

mina and bakugo are barbz, and so is kirishima just much more on the DL.

kirishima and bakugo can talk telepathically by the time they get to 3rd year, so they always make up the best excuses. also they have really weird nicknames that only they get. kirishima did make the mistake of joking around and saying he wants to be called big daddy boss man and bakugo wouldnt cook for him until he had a written apology.

bakugo really loves cuddling but doesnt know how to ask for it so he just acts like a cat and headbuts kiri and sits on him angrily until he gets the message.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Complicated

Fking finally lol. I’ve had absolutely no motivation to read or write these last few days, but I finally started this last night and finished it now. Here’s Day 15--a bad day, and part 3 of the mini-series i have going for this month.

Part 1  Part 2

cw: none that i can think of, but if theres anything, pls dont hesitate to let me know!

1.5k words

enjoy!! :)

Aelin had been sitting in her car for the last twenty minutes, staring at the motel door. She had no idea what she was going to say to Sam, but she knew she had to say something.

Something like, “I'm sorry that your biological daughter calls another man daddy and papa.” Maybe Aelin should have put a stop to it once Olive had started calling Rowan that, but hearing Olive say daddy in her tiny voice with a wide smile on her face made Aelin's heart flutter, and the sweet look of joy when Rowan heard her say it made Aelin think that it wouldn't be too bad.

She had got caught up in the fantasy of it all, but it was hard not to be sucked down into. She still loved Rowan and they had been dating seriously for the last six months. They had been friends for five months after she saw him at the nursery, and things had been going so damned well. Rowan and Egan had moved into Aelin's place two months ago—the four bedroom house previously owned by Aelin's parents before they moved into a small home—and she got along fantastically with Egan; he had a bit more of an understanding that Aelin wasn't his biological mother, since Rowan still had the photos of Lyria during the pregnancy, and she was determined to never replace Lyria, but when he called her 'ma' or 'Lin', her face would break into a smile so big she thought that it would be a permanent fixture on her face.

Aelin wasn't stupid, however, she knew that people thought that she and Rowan were moving too fast—namely her parents and Aedion, but when she and Rowan talked about the future, it felt solid, like it wasn't just a fanciful notion, but something real that was only a few steps away from being able to hold in her hands.

She had never been with someone that was so loyal to her, someone that cared for her in the way that Rowan did. That looked past her outer beauty and saw Aelin for who she was, and encouraged her to go for what made her happy.

It wasn't always perfect, they had arguments for time to time, but they worked it out, and that had shocked Aelin at first, that Rowan actually wanted to work together to fix the issue, that he actually communicated instead of just letting the arguments fade away. It wasn't like that at all with Chaol, part of the reason why their relationship crashed and burned.

So she hardly thought twice about what it meant to have Olive call Rowan 'daddy', that to Aelin, she was just building a family and a future, but she was starkly reminded that her boyfriend indeed was not her daughters father when Olive called Rowan 'papa' in the middle of the lunch that Sam was invited to at their place and the silence that had descended between the three adults.

Aelin almost choked on the pizza that she was in the middle of inhaling when Olive said that, her daughter sitting on Rowan's lap because she had been fussy and didn't want to sit in her booster seat. Olive and Egan were blissfully unaware of the awkwardness that was emanating from Aelin, the brown haired boy paying attention only to the TV that was playing his favourite cartoon, and Olive had simply wanted more of Rowan's attention.

Aelin glanced at Sam and found that the look in his eyes was utterly unreadable, which was unusual since Sam was easy to read, but for the first time in the years that Aelin knew him, she had no idea how to decipher his expression.

Rowan had opened his mouth, to say what Aelin wasn't sure, when Sam waved him off, and resumed the conversation revolving around the classic car that Rowan was fixing in his rare free time. So Rowan, knowing that it wasn't the right place to have that conversation, continued where he left off before Olive uttered that word that had never felt wrong before but suddenly left Aelin wanting to sink into the floor.

And when Sam had left after lunch, Aelin had decided that temporarily avoiding the topic was the best move, and after helping Rowan clear the table, Aelin had given Olive a quick bath in order to think about anything else.

All Aelin had been able to think about was what if somehow, by letting Olive calling Rowan her dad, she had doomed her daughter into developing daddy issues, that she would grow up confused on how to feel about her biological father when all her life she had called another man dad.

Aelin banged her head against the steering wheel, wondering how a good, decent day had gone to a complicated mess in a matter of hours.

She stayed there for a while, until she realised that she needed to be the adult she was and left the car, knocking loudly on the white motel door.

The door flew open and Aelin was greeted by Sam, a small smile on his face. “I was wondering how long you were going to sit out there for.” Having no idea what to say to that, Aelin stayed silent and went inside when Sam invited her in.

Aelin worried at her lip, and sat at the tiny table by the TV. She truly had no idea what to say.

Sam sat across from her and took her hands in his. Aelin looked up and found nothing but openness in his warm brown eyes. “I'm not mad, if that's what you're thinking.”

Aelin blinked at him. While Sam wasn't a violent man, she wasn't expecting that. “How?” she managed to get out after a moment. “How could you not be mad? Your daughter is calling another man 'papa'.”

“I'm hardly Olive's father, Aelin, I'm aware that I'm not the most active dad, I've seen her only a handful of times since her birth and she's nearly two. It's clear that Rowan loves her, and that she loves him. I actually saw all four of you earlier today, at the park,” Sam added. “I was feeling nervous, like I always do before I see Olive, so I went to the park to have my breakfast. I heard your laugh and I turned, ready to call out to you, when I saw that you were having a picnic and I realised that you already had a family, that Rowan and Egan are your family, and that Rowan is Olive's father in the way that counts, in the way that matters, and that I'm just an intruder in your lives.”

Gripping his hands, Aelin shook her head. “Sam, you can't think like that, you're not an intruder. You're Olive's biological father, you're important.”

“And I'll always be grateful that I had a hand in creating her, but Aelin, I want you to look inside yourself and tell me truthfully, in ten years time, who do you see by your side, Olive's side? Because I know that it isn't me.” And it wasn't, Aelin didn't to look inside herself to know that. She was already thinking deeply about her future long before Sam's visit.

“I want you to know though,” Aelin said abruptly, “that I didn't deliberately set out to have Olive see Rowan as her father, that I did talk about you from time to time, but I-I don't think that she could make the connection that the voice on the end of the phone belongs to you. But I promise that if see ever asks about you, I'll tell her, I won't hide anything from her.”

“I know that you will,” Sam said, “just maybe tell her in a nice way that she's the result of a broken condom.”

Aelin laughed, feeling light for the first time since this whole thing started. “I will. Although I think I'll have to consult Google for that.”

Sam nodded, because even he knew that there were no books that could help with that conversation. “But if she never asks about me, then don't tell her.”

“Sam—”

“If Olive wants to believe for the rest of her life that Rowan is her biological father, then I'm okay with that. I'd rather her be happy than confused. Because when I heard Olive call Rowan 'papa', it felt right, like it made sense. And I know that's how you feel, too. And I know it makes no sense, but Olive somehow just looks like she's Rowan's daughter, you know? And I don't want to get in the way of that.”

Sam was far too nice for his own good. People as kind as him were hard to find. It was a miracle that in this life that she had met two men like that.

Aelin wiped at her eyes, the tears falling suddenly and fast. “How are you so nice when your father is a piece of shit?”

Sam snorted and handed her a tissue. “Years of therapy.” He took a deep breath, and in his brown eyes, the eyes that she had once fallen for so deeply, Aelin saw acceptance. “There's also something else...I was doing some soul searching before you came over, and I...I know that I'm not on the birth certificate and that I don't really have a say—”

“Sam, of course you have a say. Like I said earlier, you're Olive's biological father. You might not be on the birth certificate, but if you have opinions, then you can share them with me, I won't bite your head off.”

Sam gave her a tiny smile. “And I appreciate that, I do. But what I was going to say is this: if ever in the future Rowan wants to adopt Olive, then you and he have my blessing.”

Aelin stared at him for a long moment, letting the words sink in, and then the tears started again and Aelin's body shook with the force of her sobs. Because if Sam's father wasn't Arobynn, then she would have had the family that Sam was wholeheartedly accepting that she had with Rowan. And that he was willing to stand aside to let Olive have the father that she deserved.

Sam came over to her, hugging her to him as Aelin sobbed into his shoulder, running his hand up and down her back. Aelin had never let herself cry like this in front of him, she never really liked crying like that, but she couldn't help herself and couldn't stop herself for a long while. It was a good ten minutes later when the tears slowly subsided and Sam slowly pulled back, giving her a once over with his kind eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Aelin said, loudly blowing her nose with a handful of tissues. “I just...I wasn't sure what I was expecting to happen here tonight. Never did I think that you would offer something like that, Sam.”

“I would be just like Arobynn if I forced you to be unhappy, and I never want to be like him.”

“You're not,” Aelin said, “you'll never be like him. I hope one day, Sam, you'll be able to have a family of your own.”

Sam kissed her cheek, the gesture sending her back to when they were teenagers. “I hope so, too.”

Aelin stayed for a little while longer, just talking and reminiscing about the old times. And when she went home, she kissed him on the cheek, thanked him again, and told him that he would always have a special place in her heart, because without him, she wouldn't have Olive.

Sam repeated the sentiment, and wished her nothing but happiness with Rowan, and that he was glad she found him.

Aelin was glad she found Rowan, too.

X X X X X X

Aelin walked into her house, and was greeted by two ecstatic children, acting like they hadn't seen her for years. Aelin smiled and gave them their hugs that they desperately wanted. She went over to the kitchen counter where Rowan was preparing dinner—grilled cheese, that she knew very well had veggies hidden within, because Egan acted like vegetables were the world's most evil thing to exist—and kissed him on the cheek. He kissed her temple in response, and Aelin breathed in the homely scent of him.

“How did everything go with Sam?” he asked, moving about the kitchen to start the side salad.

“Great, and there's something very important that I have to tell you.” Rowan raised a silver brow, but Aelin kissed his cheek again and promised to tell him later.

X X X X X X

Aelin was more than ready to climb into bed and fall asleep, but she needed to tell Rowan about her conversation with Sam, so when they got settled and comfortable, Aelin told him what her ex-partner said.

Rowan was stunned for a moment, and she hadn't even told him the best part. “Truthfully, I was mentally preparing myself for Sam to punch me in the face after lunch, but to hear what he said to you, I feel like a fool for ever thinking that he would resort to that.”

“If he was more like his father, he definitely would have. But Sam is the polar opposite of Arobynn, and truly wants nothing more than for people to be happy.” Rowan smiled and took Aelin's hand in his, and Aelin relished in the comforting touch. “And there's something else,” Aelin added, and it was ridiculous, but a tiny part of her was nervous, that told her that Rowan wouldn't want Sam's blessing, that he wouldn't want to legally be Olive's father. “Sam told me that if you ever wanted to adopt Olive, then you have his blessing, because he wants nothing more than for Olive to be loved and cared for, and he sees that you're the one that can help provide her with that.”

Rowan looked at Aelin, and her own eyes watered when she saw that his were filling up. “I would be honoured to do that, Aelin. It would make me the happiest man in the world to have that privilege. And after we're married, we can start the process, and maybe one day, when Egan's a little older and he has a better understanding, you can adopt him too, because I know you like him just as much as I love Olive.”

“I do,” Aelin said, choking up. “That would be—” Aelin stopped, her mind finally catching up with what he just said. “Did you just propose to me?”

Rowan cracked a smile and kissed her. He pulled away just so, their noses touching. “Not yet, I haven't found the right ring.”

Aelin laughed joyfully, even as her tears overflowed. “Just to let you know, I'm not helping you out this time. You'll have to figure it out on your own.”

Rowan kissed her again and again. “Don't worry, I've already got a few choices in mind.”

“Good. Make sure its sparkles.”

“I will,” Rowan said, and took her into his arms.

It wasn't too bad of a day, after all.

[queenretcon]

the way the story ends

i dont usually post fic, but I finished this scene from that one jli story that’s always rattling around in my head

characters: ted kord, beatriz da costa, mentions of the JLI esp max

summary: Ted and Bea have an overdue talk.

words: 2k

It starts on the back steps of Ted’s El Paso home.

Maybe more accurately, it starts when Blue & Gold show up at Fire & Ice’s Malibu apartment, holding take out and talking about a new Justice League International. It’s a long string of events, of saying yes, that lead to everything led to.

But really, it starts on those brick steps, Bea nursing a blue cocktail Booster made and leaning one elbow haphazardly on Ted’s knee. Most of Ted’s worst ideas have come from a drunken Beatriz Bonilla Da Costa, but he’s never been one for good decisions.

The problem is that he’s still figuring out how to talk about it.

The dying, that is.

The being murdered. The vague memories of crawling from the dirt, brainfucked by a Black Lantern ring, reaching for his best friend’s throat. The coming back too late, after everyone had moved on into whoever they were without Ted dragging them back down.

Booster pays a very nice woman named Courtney a lot of Ted’s money every month so that he can sit on her comfy couch and dissect the whole lot of it.

But Ted’s never been good at therapy. He tried it, after his mom died, but he can’t make himself do it right. He cracks jokes at all the right moments—where he should be laying out all his easily exploitable vulnerabilities—and, well, therapists can’t work with the whole lot of nothing he gives them.

And he’s always been even worse at the heart-on-your-sleeve late night talks with Booster.

It’s easier with Bea though. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s the older sister energy—he’d always wanted one as a kid—or maybe it’s that Bea’s like him. She knows the right moment to make a joke or play the right part, to leave Ted’s last guarded wall standing.

“It sucked,” she says, swirling around the drink in her hands. “Obviously.”

“Is it weird that hearing that makes part of me, y’know, horribly guilty and part of me, uh,” he pauses, staring out into sparse greenery of his yard, “flattered?”

Bea cackles, throwing her head back. Ted snickers under his breath as she almost empties her drink on her lap. “God! I’d feel the same way.”

“You’re invulnerable, I’m pretty sure,” he says. “So I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He watches the humor drain from her face.

“Me, Booster, and Guy. The leftovers.”

Ted reaches behind him for his drink, like more liquor will have magically appeared since he drained it. “Irony is you guys would have enjoyed seeing people miss you the most.”

That brings back the grin to her face. He wonders how many people have seen her like this: hair messy, lipstick smeared, thousand-watt smile coming out at the idea of being mourned. How many people know the brilliant, morbid survivor buried behind false bravado and push-up bras.

“What’s it like?” she asks, locking onto him with eyes too wide. “Being adored?”

Ted huffs under his breath.

Lonely.

“I don’t know how many people are actually mourning me, y’know?” he asks, like she could possibly know what it’s like to hold the completed biography of your life in your hands. Like she could know what it’s like to be the unwanted sequel to a damn good movie. “I don’t think the, like, uh.”

He pauses, and she sits patiently.

Bea used to be an interrogator. Is she using any of those hard-won skills without him knowing? Why can she pull things out of him even his best friend, soulmate, other half never could?

“Their perfect angel genius martyr,” he says, eyes fixed away from her. “I don’t think I’m him.”

“Of course not,” she says quietly. “Tora wasn’t either. There’s no room for nuance with the dead.”

He hadn’t thought about that.

“Huh.”

“It was weird, listening to people talk about her after,” Bea says, absently tilting her glass back and forth to watch the liquid drain this way and that. “All these people who’d never had a conversation with her, suddenly talking at me about my girl. Like they needed to mythologize her to mourn her or something. She couldn’t just be somebody who died young in a shitty way; she had to be this perfect, infallible angel ripped from us too soon.” She taps her purple nails against the glass, a staccato beat. “It felt like they were taking her away from me, a little bit, turning her into somebody else. Somebody easier for them to cry about.”

Does Booster feel this way? Ted doesn’t know. He knows he broke Booster a little bit, that the person Ted left in that hospital bed was different from the person who showed up all those months ago at Ted’s door, eyes red, heart clutched in his hands. But the specifics of it has been a burden too big to bear. He owes Booster to carry it, but he’s been writing Booster checks he can’t cash for a long time now.

“I wasn’t there for you,” Ted says, “when she died.”

“I know,” Bea says, mildly, like he’s reminding her of something previously discussed.

A long pause stretches taut between them. Ted tries to find the words, for a proper apology, for the way to fix the relationships he’s always kicking down.

“I forgave your corpse,” she says. “For a lot of things.” There’s another pause, then: “Dickbag.”

Ted snorts, then before he can consider if this is the time, he’s cackling, head thrown back, bwa-ha-ha, and Bea’s laughing, too, digging her nails into his knee, choking out, “Stop, shut up, I hate you, that wasn’t even funny, you are a dickbag.”

When their drunken giggle-fit subsides, her head is on his knee, “You can’t die again. It’s not allowed. I have like three friends.”

“Aw, you’ve got like five,” he assures her, patting her curls haphazardly.

“Barely,” she sighs, “and they keep turning into weird homoerotic will-they-wont-theys, like I need one person who’s always going to have ken doll anatomy in my head.”

“That’s a horrifying way to phrase that,” he informs her. She makes an attempt to reach back and pat his face. It’s not a very good attempt.

She’s always been easier to him than other people. Maybe it’s the shared, terrible sense of humor, or the fact she’s never going to be fake-nice to him, is always going to let him know when he’s getting on her nerves.

It occurs to him he could tell her. She wants to know, right? Everyone does, the nitty-gritty of his untimely murder. Alcohol buzzing in his head, the warm weight of her against his knee, he feels some key unlock in the vault of Ted’s Repressed Bullshit™.

“I’ve never, uh,” Ted pauses, trying to find the words. He’s been pulling absently on his hands without realizing. “I’ve never told anybody about this, but, uh, Max told me some stuff. Before, uh.”

Bea sits up, eyes wide for a quick flash, before they narrow darkly. “Like what?”

Booster doesn’t want to talk about Max, can’t handle hearing his name. Ted’s struggled with it, a little. There was this person—who Ted trusted, who Ted cared about, who Ted has gone to a million times when he needed help or advice or anything really—and then it was that person who fucked everything up forever. Who took everything from Ted.

And he still hasn’t processed it; not really.

But Bea’s different. Max and her—they’d been close. He was the only one she let still call her B.B.. On slow days, sometimes Ted would walk past Max’s office and find Bea with her feet propped up on Max’s antique wooden desk, looking smug while Max laughed over whatever witty thing she’d said this time.

Maybe she’s been waiting, just like Ted, for someone to say his name again the way they used to. Without the hard edge. Without the barely restrained fury. Like Max was the guy who gave them their big break and not just another in a long line of cardboard cut-out supervillains.

“About, uh,” he almost stutters out, still avoiding Bea’s gaze when he speaks, “us, I guess. I mean, the JLI. Like he talked about, y’know, he was the reason we kind of, uh, sucked I guess? Why we weren’t ever, y’know, great the way a Justice League was supposed to be. That it was him, fucking us over. Holding us back.”

When he turns to see her face, she looks—

Mad.

“And you believed that?” she asks. There’s a little bit of a bite to it, but it’s not the hot rage she aims at Guy. Ted feels suddenly that how he answers this question is very important.

“I guess. Yeah.”

Bea takes a long, long drink of her cocktail, draining the last of the blue out of her glass.

“We fought Despero. Twice. Survived the Joker. Protected this stupid fucking unappreciative world from Manga Khan and that Nebula bitch. Vampires. Manhunters. Lobo. More alien invasions. Killg%re.” Bea turns, green curls falling into her face, eyes hard. “Need me to keep fucking going?”

“I was there,” Ted says.

She sits up, throwing out her arms. “Then why are you talking about it like one of them?! We were great, Ted! We protected people! We saved the day! We just, just—

“We just didn’t do it the way they did,” she spits out, lips pulled back to show her canines as she does. He feels oddly detached, listening to her. She’s thought this before; she’s lined her mental ducks in a row; she’s—

Taken the brunt of it, hasn’t she?

The longest serving member of the JLI, as she reminds them often. The one who went down with the ship. The one who’s never had a statue in her honor or the invite to a more respectable team. Who was a decorated agent and Global Guardian before them and was the punchline to a joke about slutty Latinas after them.

After all of it, still loyal to the end.

He feels abashed, just a little.

“So what?” Ted asks. “You’re saying Max lied?”

“What I’m saying,” she says, like she’s been saying anything and not just unleashing years of pent-up aggressions, “is that J’onn spent literal years buddied up with Max. They were like, actual friends. They talked about J’onn’s family. Do you know anything about J’onn’s family?”

“No,” Ted admits. J’onn has a family?

“Right!” Bea says, gesturing excitedly at him. “He doesn’t talk about them! But he talked about them to Max. And like, look, we all knew Max was sketchy, right? Not a surprise. Fuck, we all thought he was a supervillain from the jump, but he wasn’t back then. I’d swear my fucking life, no, no,” she pauses, waving her hands and then pointing aggressively at Ted, “Kord, I’d swear all of our fucking lives he wasn’t back then. Because J’onn checked. He put aside all those sexy Martian morals—” God, she is drunk. “—to read Max’s mind.”

That’s compelling, actually.

But it also means he spent what he thought were his last moments letting some asshole lie to him and he bought it—even after spending months refusing to buy the lies he was getting from everyone else. So he puts up a token defense. “He could’ve been wrong, Bea. He’s only hu—uh, only Martian.”

Bea locks eyes with him, face suddenly serious where it was practically manic moments before. “I believe in J’onn J’onnz.”

And, y’know, yeah. So does Ted. He always has. Always will.

“So what’s more likely, Beetle? That J’onn failed to protect to us when he could have, or that Max Lord lied?”

When she says it like that, it’s so easy. The obvious truth.

But what it actually does is making everything wildly, wildly complicated. Despite the hot mess of pain it made his personal life, the event of his death was a straightforward sequence, a puzzle already done. Ted was killed by a threat always at his neck. Ted was killed because he was too stupid to understand that he’d let the devil into his living room. That was the final irony of his life: Ted Kord—the wunderkind, the child prodigy, the next great mind—died because there was someone smarter.

Ted Kord has held the biography of his life in his hands. Booster’s copy, with the little 50% off sticker hurriedly scratched off, sticky residue remaining, before it was pushed into Ted’s grasp. He’s seen the totality of his time on Earth wrapped up in 263 measly pages.

But it was time to rewrite the ending.

“Hey, Bea,” he says, suddenly grinning even when he knows he shouldn’t. “Do you want to help me solve my murder?”

[malereader-inserts]

Something Worthwhile

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Mycroft Holmes & Brother!Reader & Sherlock Holmes Summary: It’s hard being a Holmes sometimes, especially when you’re alone Word Count: 1,470 Request: Holmes brother who is having difficulties fitting in with his two smart, intelligent and brilliant brothers. He feels left out and alone and ends up isolating himself further. Somehow John is the only one who notices this but Sherlock and Mycroft dont believe him because they dont think a Holmes brother is capable of such feelings so John has to properly lecture them on feelings and stuff and then they search for reader and help him out of the slums. Sorry if this is too long A/n: Y’all be linking brotherly holmes stuff.

“I could be greater.”

John looks at you, at the doorway, watching you stretch your back, moving boxes surrounding you. You get out a groan at the sweet release of stress leaving your tense muscle, clicking parts of your body as John just stares at you.

He came to visit, check up on you, you had been awfully quiet for a while and he got worried. What he had not expected to see you packing your belonging to move houses. 

“What?” He looks at you confused as you looked at him, a smile but it wasn’t comforting.

It was a smile of tiredness, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I could be greater, you know? Compared to Sherlock and Mycroft, I could be painfully greater.”

“You’re already great.”

“Are you sure? I can hardly keep up with Sherlock and Mycroft, one of them is one of the greatest detectives and the other one is working with the Government. And me?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “I’m not as great as them.”

“So, you’re moving?”

“Uh, isn’t that obvious?”

John looks around, you’re a lot human, easier to relate to as a Holmes. But, he understands to be the odd one out. He can’t fault you for feeling that. He asks you if you need help, you smile and shake your head, waving he off. John tells you that he’s off, if you ever need him he’s only a phone call away - you looked grateful for that.

After that, he doesn’t see you or hear from you. He goes to check your old apartment, it’s cleared out, empty almost as if it’s getting ready to get renovated. It was abandoned and the warmth you gave the house, was washed away. John doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve disappeared.

It worries John.

You hated your brothers, just as much as you love them. They were ahead of the game, ahead of life. They’re producing such brilliant works, but you were left behind. You were three steps ahead of the game but your brothers were nine steps ahead. You were walking with life, whilst your brothers are running past it. You could never be your brothers, and it was hard for you to understand that.

Your mother and father have had high expectations after both Mycroft and Sherlock being ahead of their classes, they expected you to be the same. But, you weren’t. You were top of the class, but that hardly meant anything to them. It got tiring to try to keep up with them.

So, you found yourself a place, across London, furthest away from Sherlock’s apartment. It was small but cosy, it was your safe space, plants everywhere, handing from the ceiling, all content in your loving presence. Your cat that lounges around the house currently draped over the back of the sofa. 

The living room was clashing with different colour, but you like that, it was vibrant, you don’t do dull things. If you’re going to take your time with life then you might as well think the world is in bright colours like an indie filter on Instagram. 

You have to romanticise your little life if it means to distract you from your brothers. That means thinking every time you cook, you have to believe you’re in a Studio Ghibli movie, where all the food looks mouth-watering.

You were happier, being away, isolating yourself away. 

It doesn’t settle well with John. 

So, when he had returned home from work and saw both Holmes brothers, he sat them down, his arms crossed over his chest looking angry at them. Though, to Sherlock that’s how John looks all the time. He gave them a good earful, even Mrs Hudson went upstairs to investigate what was happening. Even she gave her own opinion as well.

But, with both brothers, they took nothing in.

They look at them blankly.

“That’s not (Y/n),” Sherlock breaks the silence with a chuckle, a smile that could freak anyone out, but John was too pissed off with him that he wanted to punch it off.

“Yes, our brother is fine, but I do thank you for the concern,” Mycroft says politely as he flinches at John’s intense glare, “Anyway, (Y/n) doesn’t feel that, if he was, he would have told us.”

“Really?” John asked, scoffing, shaking his head with an unsettling chuckle that made both Holmes brother sit upright, “Why would he tell you what he’s feeling when you constantly dismissing him when he feels anything but confidence?”

“I-”

The brothers wanted to intervene, but this has ticked John off beyond belief. It had prompted him to rant to them that both brothers were afraid to interrupt because after all, John was making sense for once. For once, an average smart man was talking so intelligently that they felt like they were reduced to nothing.

“He tells you that his emotions have been overwhelming, you tell him to get over it. When he can barely get out of bed because he feels like the world is resting upon his shoulders you tell him to grow a thicker skin. When he cries, you tell him its a sign of weakness, he looks for his brothers for guidance but his brothers tell him to look for it himself.”

“John-”

“For God’s sake, he told me he was in therapy because he doesn’t want to tell you because you’d see him as a disappointment. He’s trying so hard and every achievement he does - it gets brushed under the rug. He thinks he has already disappointed your mother and father, God only knows what he’s thinking now to know that his brothers have abandoned him.”

“But, we haven’t,” Sherlock mutters out so softly, John could tell that he was ashamed in himself.

“I don’t even know where he is. He hasn’t been picking up my calls or replying to my messages, I don’t know where he moved.”

“He moved?” Mycroft asked, astounded, as John sighs.

John rubs his forehead, hand on his hip, looking exhausted and stress. Nodding sheepishly. John has been trying hard to locate you but London is a big city with various different apartments. He doesn’t know if you had moved far from your old place, he doesn’t have a brain like the Holmes, he couldn’t deduce where you intend to go.

“Yeah, so while to try to find him. Both of you are going to think of a good apology.”

“How are you so calm? He could have killed hi-”

“He told me that he wouldn’t do that because the thought of his cat thinking he had abandoned her hurts him more than ending it all.”

With a statement like that, the brothers wonder how bad they caused your pain.

Sherlock and Mycroft walk up to your apartment, the stairs were nice - both brothers noticed, you like that because you hated stairs, especially steep ones. They knocked on your door, hoping it was you on the other side.

They can hear your record player playing some songs, though with the door shut it was hard to tell what was playing. They knock again, before hearing your footsteps and the door opening.

“Why are you here?” You asked, your brothers hurt with no greeting and no smile to come along with it.

“John expressed his concerns,” Mycroft says, swallowing his pride, “It has made up realise that we have-”

“We have fucked up as brothers,” Sherlock completed.

“Charming,” Mycroft mutters bitterly.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” You were about to slam the door but Sherlock was strong enough to keep the door open with just the strength of his left arm, “Leave me alone.”

“No, we’re not leaving until we fix our mess. We’re brothers, our parents have given us hell and it’s not fair for you to go through their hell all by yourself,” Sherlock says firmly before eyes softening, “Please (Y/n).”

“You don’t have to talk, you can just listen,” Mycroft says as a compromise, to meet you in the middle, “We know that you’re not going to forgive us right away, but, we don’t want you to be alone again.”

You stand there in silence, before huffing out, opening the door wider and standing to the side. Your brothers entering your home; it smells a lot like you. You shut the door behind them, your cat seeing your brothers and instantly stretching and walk towards you. 

Jumping up in your arms, your cat stares his sharp glaring eyes towards your brothers as if he was warning them.

Your brothers seemed unsettled as they sit down, they’re not prepared for the talk ahead of them. They don’t expertise in the subject of feelings and relating to others, but if it means to keep you around longer.

It’s something worthwhile to do.

[blackwidowyael]

One of those days

Hey y'all! I just received my first request from @thoughfulmilkshakeface, and here it is, hope you all enjoy! psa I am taking requests, mainly Natasha/Yelena/Wanda centric, and I dont do reader inserts or anything too smutty so feel free to leave smth in ma inbox ;)

Natasha has bad days. Clint knows this, and he also knows that the bad days will pass, making space for the good ones, where they can go out to the movies, or grab lunch, or take Lucky to play ball in the park without the change of routine sending her reeling.

It is these days that he treasures the most, when he can pretend, even if it is only briefly, that they are just another normal couple, with normal problems like squabbles over who’s turn it is to take out the trash or clean up after the dog.

Today is not one of those days.

Clint can tell from the moment they wake up. He cracks open an eye just in time to see the flash of metal handcuffs disappearing into Natasha’s nightstand.

The handcuffs rarely make an appearance anymore, and only on those nights where she is filled with an anxious restlessness, a sense of uneasiness that only the cool slicing of the metal can satiate.

She never talks about it, refuses to acknowledge that they still have a lingering control over her that she can’t quite shake. Clint understands what it is like to feel that lack of autonomy, and never pushes her to stop.

Lucky knows that Natasha has bad days as well. She stumbles past where he is eagerly awaiting breakfast, straight to the gym without so much as a glance in his direction. It is like she is barely even there.

Clint drags himself into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding hitting Lucky in the face as he reaches down to pat him through a haze of sleep. He fills Lucky’s bowl, and slides two pop tarts onto a plate. A smile almost reaches his face as he thinks about the plan Nat concocted to sneak them past the addicted demi-God upstairs.

And they wait for the last member of their family to return. Sometimes, an hour in the gym is enough to shake whatever demons were haunting her away and she returns more present, having slipped out of whatever funk she is in.

Today is not one of those days.

They watch the clock as the hands trail round the hour, and into the next. Lucky whines, pressing himself against Clint’s leg. He is weirdly intuitive, can always tell when something’s not right. Almost two hours have passed. Natasha’s coffee has grown cold in the pot.

“I guess you’re right, bud,” Clint sighs, rubbing Lucky behind the ears. “I’ll go check on her.”

At first, he thinks the gym is empty. Music blares out of the speakers as he scans every corner.

He finds her huddled in a crack between the wall and a punching bag. From her vantage point, she has a clear view of the entire gym, but she doesn’t even blink as he settles down in front of her.

Nat’s eyes are glassy, unfocused. Clint waves a hand in front of her face, trying to get her attention. He is wary of touching her when she’s like this, but he really needs to get her to the apartment. Clint can see the blood leaking through her pointe shoes, feet white with the ribbons tight enough to cut off her circulation. Slowly he loops one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees, narrating as he does so.

No matter what, Clint wants her to feel at least some semblance of control.

“Alright, Tash, back to the apartment. I got you, it’s okay.” He glances at her briefly, to see if he has gotten a response, but she has retreated so far into herself that she can’t hear him. Dissociated, the part of his mind that has attended many therapy sessions with her, supplies.

She has frozen by the time he tries to deposit her on the couch. Eventually, he just sits down with her draped over his lap, hoping that the feel of him breathing would help to ground her. He thinks back to the day before, trying to remember what could have triggered it. Nothing springs to mind, although new triggers still pop up now and then. Maybe something from a mission?

Lucky worries when he sees Natasha like this. It makes Clint sad, and then neither of them will take him to the park. He leaps onto the couch, burying his muzzle in Natasha’s face and showering her with kisses. Suddenly, she stirs, breath shuddering in her chest.

“Nat, you’re okay, you’re safe. We’re in the apartment.”

One hand comes up, shielding her face, while she desperately tries to wriggle out of Clint’s lap. Her breath is beginning to come faster as she squirms, unable to escape Lucky’s slobbery hold.

“Natasha, it’s just Lucky, you’re okay.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah. Can you breathe with me?”

She can’t.

She can feel her breath whistling in her chest, coming faster and faster and despite this feel the lack of oxygen in her brain. Lightheaded. She doesn’t think her legs would support her right now if she tried to run.

Run away from all of this. All these emotions, clawing at her chest and anxiety buzzing in her brain and tingling on her skin and she can't breathe, she can’t-

Breathe.

One fist gripping Clint’s shirt, the soft fabric grounding, while simultaneously keeping herself as far away from him as possible, curled on the opposite side of the couch.

Through the icy panic, she tries to focus on his chest. Watching it rise and fall. She manages to take gulps of air to match, feeling the fog slowly evaporating around her.

“Idiot dog,” she mutters, pushing Lucky away from her.

The buzzing panic leaves her as quickly as it arrives, leaving her drained. The world is far too bright, too sharp, now.

Clint is watching as she tries to collect herself. Natasha feels her mask slamming into place, protecting her from the world and hiding her humiliation. She’s not sure how she got to the couch, but she can feel the concern and smothering pity rolling off of Clint in waves and she hates it.

She just wants to be alone, until she can forget again.

“Nat-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Clint presses his lips together. This repression shit can’t be healthy, but he knows better than anyone that there’s no point trying to make Natasha talk when she doesn't want to.

“Fine. We don’t have to talk. Can I at least look at your feet?”

Natasha glances down. Her feet are waxy, apart from the red marks made by the ribbons chafing. Blood has congealed around the box of the shoe, spattering its way up the shank.

“I can do it myself, Clint,”

“Natasha, I swear to God.” Clint pushes her back down as she tries to stand, going into the kitchen to grab the first aid box.

Carefully, he unties the ribbons, prying the shoes off her feet. The blood is sticky, and it takes a while for him to get them off without ripping the skin further.

Eventually, both shoes are discarded and he gets a proper look at her.

“Nat, what happened?”

Clint had hoped it would be an easy fix, just a couple of blisters, but apparently it wasn’t one of those days, and nothing was easy. Hundreds of shards of glass are embedded in the soles of Natasha’s feet, and when he looks back to her shoes, he can see more littering the soles.

He gets to work, painstakingly removing each shard and cleaning the cuts, before covering them in adhesive bandage. Questions can come later, when Nat is not still partially dissociated on the couch with a vase’s worth of glass in her feet. Lucky watches, resting his head on Natasha’s lap. This time, she doesn’t push him away, running her fingers through his fur.

“I needed to know that I hadn’t got soft.”

The words echo in the silence, although they were barely audible. Clint carefully schools his expression, keeping his posture open and relaxed.

“And dancing with glass in your shoes proves that how?”

“We used to do it,” Natasha pauses, staring intently at a spot on Lucky’s back, “before.”

Clint nods in understanding. It doesn’t surprise him, seems very on-brand given the sparse details she had shared over the years.

“You haven’t gotten soft, Tash. Why would you think that?”

“But I have,” she presses, leaning forward, “I see it all the time. They told me I could never form attachments, that it would make me weak. And I can’t do the missions I did before,”

“Can’t or won’t? You didn’t have any choice over taking missions, Tash. Just because SHIELD does things differently doesn’t mean you’re any less of an agent.”

“They’re in my head all the time,” Natasha admits. “I can hear them. Telling me I’m sloppy. Weak. They would be so angry if they could see me now. I just. I just needed to feel like I was,”

She breaks off, staring at her hands.

“Like what?” Clint prompts gently.

“Made of marble. That’s what they used to say to me.”

“They’re not here now, Nat. We are. Your family. You don’t need to be all perfect and tough around us.”

Nat shakes her head in exasperation, eyes roaming around the room as she searches for an explanation.

“But I still want them to be proud of me. It’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. They took everything from me and I still want to make them proud.”

“They tortured you, Natasha. They raised you, that’s not just going to go away. You’re not under their control anymore. I just want you, whatever that is.”

Suddenly, she can’t stand this conversation anymore, ignoring her protesting feet as she stalks into the kitchen. Clint follows, Lucky not far behind.

“Love is for children.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh, turning away to reach a mug. “You’d have to be stupid to want me.”

“I guess I really am an idiot then.” Clint reaches out, tugging on her arm until she is facing him.

“Lucky too,” he adds as the dog jumps up, pawing Natasha’s legs.

“Idiot dog.” A tiny smile graces the corner of her mouth.

“You’re more than just an incredible agent, Tash. You’re my best friend, my family. I love you.”

She ducks her head, staring at their intertwined fingers.

“I love you too, idiot.”

Clint grins. It was one of those days.

[rydeszegras]

hospitals make miracles - r.donovan

hi guys ! this is my first fic and its not good whatsoever but figured id give it a shot haha, hope you enjoy !

wc: 1,623

warnings: minor swearing, mentions of injuries

-

you were a senior at andover high school on a roadie up to your annual trip in duluth. youve been taking this trip since your freshman year as you were one of the first players to ever make varsity as a freshman. that being said, this was your year, this was the year you had to show out. being named captain this season not only did you have to step up and lead the team, but you also had to focus on your game as it was your year to get scouted. you’d been looked at by minnesota-duluth, boston college, and minnesota, but all you wanted was to go to wisconsin, and this was your year to make it happen.

“y/n/n, are you ready to see all the hot duluth boys this weekend? i heard their varsity team plays at the same time of us and they have the wisco hot shot ryder donovan.” lilly said bouncing up and down in the seat next to you. you and lilly had been best friends ever since you met eachother at little wild camp 12 years ago. “y/n are you even listening”, “oh yeah sorry lil, just thinking about this weekend, did you know wisconsin scouts are gonna be there, i dont know if i can do this lil, i cant mess up, my future relies on this weekend” you exclaimed, trying not to freak out. “y/n/n you’ll be great i promise, but we should get some rest, weve still got 1.5 hours left and we’ve got a big game against east tonight.” you nod your head in agreement, dozing off into a deep sleep.

after an hour and a half of driving you arrive at the rink, getting up you fix your hair and adjust your sweats and parka and get ready to go grab your bag. after grabbing your bag, you start to head into the rink when you hear lil and ken start screaming, turning your head you see what all the fuss is about. and there he is. standing right before your eyes. ryder donovan. you’ve seen him in pictures as you followed him and some of his friends on instagram, but wow he was even prettier in person.

stumbling into the rink you make your way into the locker room gearing up to take the ice for warmups at duluth heritage. stepping onto the ice you complete your typical warmup of one-timers, slaps, and some stretching before noticing two big things in the stands. wisconsins top scout, and wisconsins top recruit, ryder. you didnt like it, but you just couldnt take your eyes off him.

the game begins and you take the ice playing your heart out making a clean goal through the five hole and racking in two more assists. after taking the ice to begin the last 20 mins of play, you get ready to take the faceoff for the third period. you win the faceoff clean and go to prepare to set yourself up to take a one-timer on the net. thats when tragedy strikes, when bringing your stick back to recieve the one-timer, before you know it you’re slammed into the boards on a cross check. tumbling down you hear a snap, a snap so loud that you watch the scout and ryder jump to their feet. as the athletic trainer scrambles to try and get you off the ice, you’re taken off the ice on a stretcher as you cant seem to put any weight on your right leg.

on the way to the hospital all you can think is why me, why now, why today. knowing it was probably your acl, you knew you were done for the season, that was it, it was over. scrolling through your twitter you saw your team won 5-2, which put your team in an excellent spot to start the season.

you arrived at the hospital and settled into your bed when a quite familiar but unfamiliar face walked into your toom. left speechless you see the 6’3 brunette standing in your doorway. “hey im ryder, i know you probably dont know me but i know you, you’re all the wisconsin scout has talked about for the past year and as im committed there i knew i had to see what the girls team is gonna have to offer and let me tell you, you looked incredible out there” ryder says shakily, messing with his fingers. you thank ryder and invite him into your room to sit on the chair. “trust me ryder i know you, youre all the girls have talked about after finding out that we played east this season, and youre committed to my dream school so theres that too, but theres no way the wisconsin scout wants anything to do with me, especially now that i have a double torn acl” you said, pointing down at your stitched up and wrapped knee, trying not to cry.

the next day, lil picked you up to bring you back to your hotel. on the car ride there you told her about everything that happened last night but when telling her you felt you sounded crazy, theres no way that thee ryder donovan went to visit YOU at the hospital and there’s absolutely no way that the wisconsin scout actually liked you. that was until you saw the instagram notification pop up on your screen... rydesdono would like to send you a message. you were shocked, theres no way that actually happened, but you opened the dm anyways to see what there was to say.

-

ryder donovan:

hey cutie, i never got your number last night and i was hoping we could catch up a little bit sometime if you feel up to it, i know with your knee it might not be easy, but i figured i would ask:)

you sat speechless. theres no way last night absolutely happened and there was absolutely no way he just called you “cutie”, but of course youre gonna meet up with ryder, no matter how much work it is

-

you:

hey rydes! id love to meet up with you again ! heres my number 952-***-****

-

thinking he might not actually text you because thats what hockey boys do, but sure enough you were proved wrong

-

maybe: ryder

hey y/n its ryder, pick you up at 6?

you:

absolutely, cant promise it’ll be easy with my knee and all, but i’ll make it work:))

rydes:

how about i pick us up food and bring it back to your hotel room, that way you can still have dinner with me but you can rest your knee at the same time;)

you:

that sounds great, ill make sure to leave the door unlocked

-

speechless you instantly call lilly and tell her everything, who freaks out the second you mention his name. as much as she doesnt believe it, you dont either. how is it that getting injured led you to a hot shot hockey player that is committed to the same school you are (yep thats right, wisco gave you an offer!!), one who’s actually genuine and nice AND insanely attractive. its mind blowing, but knowing theres no way this goes anywhere, as youd have to take the 2 hour drive back to andover in two days and probably wouldnt see ryder again until next year when you were both at wisconsin.

about an hour and a half later you hear two quiet knocks at your door, yelling “come in” at the sound. from your bed you see the cute hockey player who walks in from the doorway carrying the bag of food he got from grandmas, which happened to be your favorite restaurant in duluth. ryder sets the food on the table getting your food prepared so you didnt have to get up. he brings your food over to you and you invite him to sit next to you on your bed. you turned on your tv to the umd vs minnesota game as you rest your head on ryder who had just put his arm around you after you both finished eating. after talking for hours, that really felt like 10 mins, ryder decided that he should probably get back home and even if you didnt want him to go, you agreed.

for weeks after that you and ryder talked and talked for hours on end nonstop whether it was through snapchat, messages, or facetime. even though you only lived two hours apart, your schedules clashed too much to ever be able to meet up with eachother again. eventually after a year later you had completed your physical therapy and were ready to start your first year as a badger, but most importantly you were eager for ryder to get into town so you could hug the gorgeous brunette again.

when arriving at labahn, you were preparing yourself for the first day of practice and your next meet up with ryder, as the boys were using labahn as well as kohl center was undergoing some remodeling. you pull your bag out of your grand cherokee when you saw the brunette, and just like the first time you saw him your heart stopped. dropping your bag you ran in a dead sprint to see him as he dropped his bag and ran towards you wrapping his arms around your shoulders as if its been decades since youve last seen him as he held you for what felt like forever, when ryder whispered into your ear, “so hospitals really do make miracles happen” as he picked you up to kiss you before making your way into practice, knowing that without your injury you may have never found eachother the way you did.

[ibelonginthepast]

Hunk for the character ask thing??

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HUNK!!!! FINALLY!!! I am such a ho for him sorry

Sexuality Headcanon: i have no particular fixed pref, he could be straight, but i like to think he's bi throughout. I think he is a believer of fluid sexuality, so he doesn't really fits himself in a label. He goes along with whoever he likes.

Gender Headcanon: I sometimes like to hc him as a trans man (ftm). He/him pronouns. He was cultured into toxic masculinity. He has had his struggles with it. He was teased for being soft because of his anxiety issues. His tendency to be emotional and expressive. He has had been a victim of toxic masculinity constantly, even adopted it and perpetuated it further for a while before giving up. He is passionate about healthy masculinity and really understands it now. He is a fierce feminist and in for breaking the patriarchy.

A ship I have with said character: the thing is i hate Canon. I dont like the first sight first meet fall in love kind of thing they did with hunk and shay, but with what I headcanon shay as, I think she is perfect for him. He would balance her head on approach to stuff, and she will balance his tendency to ponder. He is a total simp for shay. He's a sucker for a simple calm life, while shay is on the ambitious side, and he fully supports her.

A BROTP I have with said character: hance is a given. heith! I will fucking die for this. I love thinking up stories of how Keith, despite being the one to struggle to open up, will inevitably fall for hunk. Hunk is just so approachable, so welcoming, so loving. I see hunk as also very fierce. He will stand in front as a literal physical shield to protect the ones he loves. He is dedicated when he loves and he never gives up on anyone. This is something he will share with Keith. One of the only people who will relate with Keith on a soul level on this. Punk!!! I love it. So much. Hunk is just amazing at platonic relationships. Hunk takes care of pidge a lot, they are his sibling. They simp on tech together ofc!! Even tho Shiro is everyone's dad, hunk cares for him, brings him his energy drinks and blankets all the time cause let's be real Shiro is low-key wishing death all the time and does not care for himself. Hunk is one of those peeps who scream SHIRO! NO! everytime Shiro makes a bad joke about death. Hunk's caring nature extends to everyone. Allura again is bad at taking care of herself, and he helps. He defo teaches allura samoan box braids!!! Coran too. Hunk bakes with coran sitting beside, chatting unrelentlessly but here's the thing, Hunk doesn't tolerate it. He genuinely likes listening to people and knowing them. One of the reasons he goes so well with Lance.

A NOTP I have with said character: humph he could go with anyone ngl. Shunk is extra weird to me, Shiro is a dad through and through i ew shaladins.

A random headcanon:

Despite what people think, hunk thinks he struggles with words. He uses food to express love. If he feels distant with anyone, he cooks for them.

Hunk does get tired after caring for people so much, but he has healthy nice fam around him who he lets take care of him too. He knows he needs to care for himself, and after some time of struggling with it, he now proudly take care of himself as well.

Hunk has struggled with severe anxiety. He has had panic attacks, complete meltdowns. His family was a bit pressurizing in terms of his career and all, and he has always felt responsible to get an excellent job in the stem section to make his parents proud.

He got into stem because of his parents, but he developed his love for it later too. He genuinely started finding STEM very interesting.

He contributed in making of fun robots in school's stem centres all the time. He had a teacher who was obsessed with making anime monsters, and even though hunk himself hates gore and shit he had fun making those and sometimes watched those weird ass animes and talked about how those wild ass writers were defo on weed while writing the script. He bonded over weeb stuff surprisingly with Shiro ;)

He hasn't been the smartest forever, like pidge. He actually worked his way to it. He is very dedicated, hard working and passionate.

He has undiagnosed ADD, but it hasn't interferred with him fitting in much. He has been able to do his work, and he recognized some tricks to focus early in life. His anxiety drives him to work as much as it distracts him. he just discovers his ADD later in therapy.

He makes pretty notes. He has an unhealthy obsession with pastel yellow highlighter.

Hunk is very well equipped with samoan tattoo art designs and understanding them. it's something his grandparents taught him since forever. His grandfather did tattoos and he saw them when he was little. He wants to get atleast some sort of soga'i miki. He's been always conflicted about wanting Pe'a cause its so beautiful and masculine in expression and not wanting it because it's so painful and permanent.

Because he has lived in America his whole life, he has struggled with his national identity a lot. He gets taunted by by family in samoa for being American and for speaking english better than samoan. He doenst always fit in well in america either for obvious reasons. He has struggled with feeling like he belongs. Its something he bonds with Lance on.

He is passionate about dismantling the social organization in samoa and its ill effects. He understands the systems and talks about their unfairness. This is something his distant and traditional family members get annoyed at him for.

He talks passionately about the freedom struggles of samoa and the samoan civil wars. He likes listening to stories of freedom fighters of samoa and great leaders. He is very critical of European colonization and takes no shit from europe apologists.

He is low-key a Satanist and likes to tell people about how God was super sexist to Lilith and how absolutely bullshit her banishment was,, how Satan is the coolest first feminist and made her the queen she is, and how Satan is the coolest dude for being the first rebel and equalist. He talks about how he gave us knowledge, and it created the world we are in rn or else we would still be all dumb and naked in the garden. His family is Christian and religious, he has read stories from bibles and come to the conclusions himself.

General Opinion over said character: i am horribly sad but I swear to God one cuddle from this cinnamon roll will cure me of everything

IMP NOTE: I am not samoan, but I read about countries where my favorite characters are from sometimes. I have started reading about che and communist Cuba for Lance too ;) All this info is from the internet, and I cannot say for sure its all good and true. If I am wrong with anything, please point it out.

THANKS FOR THIS! Now go drink water <3

[slothgiirl]

Nothing’s gonna take you from my side (mc x noah fic)

15k. in which mc deals with the fallout of redfield/jane all while reconnecting with the boy they thought they’d lost forever. should be gender neutral but @ me if i made a mistake.

warning for mental illness. 

happy spooky month. (i basically started playing choices again and that made me miss my boy noah marshall and here we are 48 hours later. pls dont let this flop

before.

You can't sleep with that tree outside your window. Still, out of the corner of your eye as you get ready to lie in bed awake until morning, you can still see Cody's dead body in the branches. And every single time it's a rush for the bathroom as bile rises in your throat.

It's five in the morning when you finally snap, grabbing the axe from your garage and sinking the blade into the tree trunk with a satisfying wack. You can't sleep. You're a newly minted adult but ever shadow in the night, in the dark, makes you jump.

You swing the axe again, with a closed mouth scream of animal desperation.

The precious few hours you are able to sleep are hardly enough: especially when shut eye equals nightmares for you. It's a mixture of Jane and the monster who turned out to be Jane in a goddamn tragedy and all the really fucked up things that didn't happen (everyone dying). You dream of the girl who was Jane. You dream of being stuck in the same way that Jane was, as you scream and scream and no one ever comes to help you and it's easy to see why your friend ended up as twisted, a poor version of herself, after being left alone to rot all those years.

And that makes you think of him.

You swing the axe even as the tears sting your eyes because it wasn't what everyone thought. Maybe. . .you can never find it in you to blame him for his actions, not when you understood-understand him so well. It was Jane. And in the end.

You leave the blade stuck in the tree trunk, not even halfway cut, as you cover your mouth with your hands and let out a grueling cry. It's an accumulation of living in fear for months: of the terror that seems to live in your mind even in the aftermath, even when the woods have been peaceful for months. Slumping into the ground, you hug your knees to your chest, still in pajamas, and let yourself cry. Again.

Sometimes it feels like crying is all you're capable of. It seems strange to keep on living when-it should've been you. He deserved to live, to be happy, to be more. . .

“Aw kid,” Cid says, walking up to you, cup of coffee in hand. “Let's get you inside.”

You nod shakily, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, before getting up, brushing the dirt off your legs.

Cid wraps an arm around you, giving you more care and attention then your parents have in years. No wonder you understood him so well. You should’ve reached out sooner. You should’ve never pulled away after Jane. . .

“Jesus kid, you’re freezing. How long have you been out here for?”

Shrugging, you utter, “I-I couldn’t sleep. . .the tree.” And fuck, even to your own ears you sound like a complete disaster. Where did the fire that had you charging into the woods for Andy go? You look at your reflection in the glass planes of the back door and see a teenager who looks more like a ghost then a real living person.

There’s dark shadows under your eyes that no amount of concealer could hide. You lips a harsh line across your mouth. And there was a haunted quality in your eyes that matched the photos of refugees fleeing war. It was PTSD as Lucas would say back when none of your friends could sleep through the night.

“I’ll call someone to get rid of the tree,” Cid offers, as he gently guides you up the stairs, “just try and get some sleep. How else are you gonna enjoy your last summer before college?”

You nod listlessly.

Before you can curl up in the guest bedroom, you stare out into the woods behind your house. But there’s no shadows congregating into a shadowy person. There’s no red eyes glowing from the treeline and you have to wonder if Ava’s right; if Noah really is. . .dead.

“Relax Lucas,” Stacy grins, “no one’s gonna know,” she says, taking her hand off the steering wheel to slap his arm.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “I didn’t even say anything.”

You’re sitting smushed in the back with Lily and Ava and Dan. Andy had physical therapy today, otherwise there would be even less space in the back seat. Though Stacey’s mom van is roomy enough.

“Then why do you look constipated,” Ava laughs, not looking up from her latest book on witchcraft.

“Ava!” Lily giggles besides you.

“Have you figured out what to do with Pritch’s house,” Lucas asks instead.

“Not really,” Ava admits, “it's a dope house but. ..” everyone sombers up, “I-I don’t really want to live that close to the woods, y’know.”

It’s lily that jolts you all out of the awkward mood. “Maybe you should’ve gone to a college out of state then,” she prods, “Didn’t you get into Washington University?”

Ava shrugs, “community college is way more fucking cheap though. We can’t all get a full ride to Berkeley.”

Lily blushes, but smiles proudly all the same.

You stare out the window as the woods thin out, as you drive further and further down the interstate and a bolt of panic enters your chest as you realize you’re leaving the woods behind. You wrap the jean jacket that isn’t yours more tightly around your chest. It’s summer. But there’s a chill in your bones that never seems to relent.

“Yeah, yeah,” Stacey teases, “Berkeley’s alright, but it’s no NYU.”

“Are you a big city girl now,” Ava teases her, finally shutting her book, “going to go meet your Mr. Big?”

“Since when do you watch sex in the city?”

“It’s Sex and the city actually,” Lucas corrects with a grin.

“We binged a couple of seasons at Andy’s house the other day. That Miranda lesbian episode was fucking gross though,” Ava adds.

“We’ve always lived in a small town,” Stacey explains, “and New York seems like a dream.”

“Pizza rat though,” Lily counters.

“Okay, you’ve got a point,” Stacey admits, “but it’ll be nice not being known as former Major Green’s daughter.”

“I thought you guys were working on it,” you speak up, slumped against the backseat.

“We are,” Stacey nods happily, “it’s not really my parents. It’s me too I guess. I hate when people act like that’s all I am. And I think it’ll be a great experience. I loved the campus when I visited.”

“I’m happy for you Stace,” Lucas says softly.

“Plus I’ll get to heckle Lucas around town!” Stacey says once again, taking her hand off the steering wheel to slap Lucas’ shoulder.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You’re buying me McDonalds.”

“McDonalds sounds good,” Lily adds, “I could go for some nuggies before we hit up Ikea.”

“Nuggies,” Ava snorts as Stacey pulls up to the Mcdonalds across the street from Ikea.

“Do you not want nuggies,” Lily says arching a brow.

“Oh I want nuggies,” she replies shamelessly.

“What about you hon,” Stacey asks. There’s only one other car before you have to order but you’re not hungry. Your appetite seems to have vanished along with your sleep. Even getting rid of the tree hadn’t helped much. Currently you had taken to sleeping in the living room, but sleep was still hard to come by.

“I’m okay,” you answer, “maybe just a small coffee.”

Stacey glances over at Lucas, before fixing her concerned gaze on you. “You sure? We haven’t had anything to eat since we left.”

You wanted to say you hadn’t even had breakfast, but you don��t want her to get any more concerned then she already was. It had been six months and you were still fucked up. Meanwhile your friends had recovered. Maybe they weren’t at one hundred percent, but none of them were calling you crying at three in the morning. . .anymore. It was just you that couldn’t get over it.

And there was no one you could talk to.

They hadn’t been there at the end with him the way you had. They couldn’t understand. When you told them it was Jane and not Redfield, when you told them what Noah had sacrificed in the end, they couldn’t wrap their head around it. And they didn’t want to. They just wanted to move on.

But you couldn’t.

Some essential part of you was forever in the ruins, as if you’d never left that night at all.

And the only other person who could understand was there too.

Right?

He had to be.

The same way Jane had been.

It was a selfish wish, knowing how being tethered to the power could twist a person, but you couldn’t help it. It was Noah. If you were a better person, you’d wish he’d moved on like Jane, and maybe he had. Maybe that's why nothing had happened in the months since that night.

Dan slips his hand in yours, and squeezes.

You smile gently and try to focus on enjoying the day with your friends.

The woods seem strange without a monster lurking in the shadows.

You're not even that close: hadn't even stepped one foot in the woods since that night. When you'd emerged hysterically crying and covered in dirt, all banged up from Jane, uttering his name like a prayer for which no words exist and quickly been taken to the hospital, you were sure you'd never step foot in the woods again.

Andy told you days later that no one had been able to find the ruins after your friends. No one had recovered his body.

You swallow thickly, hands pressed into a fist at your sides. There might be nothing out there. But if there's any chance that he is-that he's alice in whatever shape or form, you can't live with yourself if you abandon him the same way you'd abandoned his sister.

Sure, you were kids. You hadn't known better with Jane. But you're 18 now. You won't repeat the same mistake twice.

“Noah,” you whisper, taking a step closer to the tree line on one of the roads into town. You couldn't be at home right now, not with the open house going on.

Nothing.

Not even the crack of leaves or a bird singing. Just eerie silence as though the power and woods were one and the same and without the monster lurking in the dark, the woods were less haunting: less magical.

“Noah,” you repeat, taking a step forward until your hand touches the bark of the nearest tree, still safely held in the daylight, “Noah, it's me. Are you out there?”

You sniffle as tears well up in your eyes because you don't know what to do if he's really gone. You barely knew what to do with him when he was alive, all the complicated feelings of love and loss between you made it too hard for you to think clearly when it came to him. You only knew you couldn't let him go. Not again.

Too bad.

He'd still. . .that night. . .

“I meant it,” you utter louder, “I'm not leaving you again Noah.” If he even remembered who he was. Jane hadn't always remembered. “Noah, please let me know you're still out there.” Your gaze flits about as you look around the woods hoping to see any sign of shadows pooling together or those burning red eyes.

But there's nothing.

You wrap your arms around your chest, lips pinched tightly because fuck maybe he really was gone and you should be happy he isn't a monster but it's Noah and you're selfish because you should hate him after what he'd done to Andy and the others and you but you can't and you just want him back but things are never going back to the way they were and maybe that's a good thing because before you hadn't spoken to Dan in years and you wouldn't have know where everyone was going to college but at least Noah was alive if not happy and-and-

-you're gasping for breath.

A panic attack.

The first time this happened, you hadn't known what to do. It had felt like dying, stuck in that chair unable to help your friends all over again. It had felt like a blow to the chest as Noah came to the cold hard realization that there wasn't much left of Jane in the monster.

It had been Dan who'd talked you through it. And you take deep breaths and try to calm down because you were going into the woods again.

Just not today.

Tires screech to a halt behind you as you try to compose yourself in the midst of tears, short choked breathes that leave you gasping, and you're always so fucking cold even in mid July. Your flannel and jean jacket do little to keep you warm.

“Hon,” Stacey calls out, running up next to you, before saying carefully, “what are you doing out here?”

“She's clearly not okay,” Connor sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, taking your other side. “Shit you're freezing.”

“I'm fine,” you reply tightly, voice cracking.

Stacey smiles sadly, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, the kind of hug you've always wanted from your parents when they tell you everything's going to be alright and you actually believe them. “You're okay. They can't hurt you now.”

Connor looks back at his truck, emergency lights flashing, “we were going to get pizza, wanna come with us? It's family night.”

You hug Stacey right back, arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder, gazing out into the seemingly normal woods. “You guys do family night now?”

“We were going to make pizza,” Stacey mummers by your ear, “but we killed the yeast and the dough never rose.”

“So we're buying pizza now,” Connor adds with a laugh.

You nod, “if you think that's alright.”

“Of course it's alright,” Stacey responds right away, “you're always welcome at my house.”

Her words make you want to cry all over again. It's enough to tease the smallest of smiles out of your lips. “Sounds good.”

Her grip on you eases to match her brothers, one arm around your shoulder. You're flanked by the Green siblings: safe and sound.

They lead you back to Connor’s truck, gossiping about how Staceys moms still wondering if it's not too late for Stacey to major in economics and how leaving politics has actually made their family much better, but that might just be the family therapy they're all going to. “Mom also wanted to roadtrip to New York to drop Stacey off,” Connor grins, “s’ gonna be so embarrassing for you. Have your parents walk you to your first class.”

“Oh shut it you,” Stacey retorts, clicking her seat belt.

You glance back one last time at the woods and-

there, behind a dead tree, it's rotting husk is a bounty for all the decomposers and bugs that live in the woods, a pair of glowing blue eyes looking right at you. Your heart skips a beat as you place your hand on the window, whispering so softly, “Noah,” as Connor drives into town.

Neither sibling hears you.

“Are you sure you want to live here,” Andy says skeptically as Dan and Ava help you carry the boxes of things you'd decided to keep when you sold your old house. It had too many bad memories for you to sleep there. “It's-,”

Bound by the woods on three sides, the backyard merging with the woods of the small cottage from the 1930s, before the cookie cutter houses of the suburbs were built.

“It's got character,” Ava grins, tossing a box down in the hall. “Still can't believe your parents let you sell the house.”

“They really like Alaska,” you shrug. You weren't sure what part their research base was in. Were they even still in Alaska?

“I wish my parents let me move out already,” she rolls her eyes, “but no. If I'm staying for community college then I have to live with them.”

Andy sits on the couch, crutches resting on the wall next to him. “I still can't believe I have to repeat senior year.”

“At least we’re together,” Dan says shyly, taking care to put down the box he'd carried inside down and out of the way so no one will trip.

“And we don't have to worry about Redfield this time,” Ava adds.

Dan elbows her.

“What! I'm just saying!”

Andy rolls his eyes. “So you're back to being the scariest witch in town then?”

“Damn right I am,” Ava grins. “Check this out.” She sticks her hand out and even gets you to wander over to her. Ave glances at you all, making sure you're paying attention, before snapping her fingers.

Nothing happens.

“Um,” Andy's about to start.

Ava rolls her eyes, snapping her fingers once more.

This time, smoke wafts up from the space between her thumb and middle finger.

“Shit Ava,” Andy's eyes go wide. “Should we even be messing around with that again.”

“It's just magic,” Ava huffs.

You say nothing, wondering if Noah would show up now that you were closer to the woods. Closer to him.

He hadn't appeared since that day.

It was enough to make you wonder if you really were seeing things.

“Well whatever it was that,” Dan, swallows, “that power Pritch told you about. . .its still out there even if it's not. . .” he trails off as unsettled as Andy who had rapidly lost all color.

“No-no. It's gone,” Andy said, “right?”

“Ask them,” Ava nudges you with her arm, “you're the one that spends all your time staring at the woods.”

“I-ugh,” you stutter wondering what happened to leave you this much of a mess. You look in the mirror and wonder where the person who told off Cody and Britney for bullying your friends went.

“Ava,” Dan snaps. “leave them alone. Let's just-”

“Not talk about this,” Andy finishes.

“No one ever want to talk about it but it's right there,” Ava yells, pointing her hand out the window.

“I think it's gone dormant again,” you lie. “like before we found that place.”

“I hope so,” Andy mutters.

“I'll be fine here,” you reassure them. “I don't want to be afraid of the woods for the rest of my life.”

“Right,” Ava says with a pained smile. “Let's finish getting these boxes in so we can start watching what we do in the shadows.”

“Again,” Andy complains, “what's wrong with-”

“We're not watching spider-man again!” Dan groans.

“Spider-man is a trans icon,” Andy replies.

“The only acceptable spider-man is the 1st and 2nd movie with Tobey Mcguire,” Ava adds.

You giggle softly, “why can't we just watch both. It's not like we have school tomorrow.”

“Finally someone with a brain,” Dan smiles.

Noah tosses rocks into a lake, little pebbles he can't make skip.

You laugh, teasing him easily. “What a loser!” From your spot sitting on the lake edge.

He turns back towards you with a scowl that carries no real heat, “I’d like to see you do better.”

“You think I can't,” you retort easily, getting up and dusting the dirt and grass from your butt. You never did know when to back down from a challenge.

“I know you can't,” he grins.

“Asshole,” you bite back as he drops a few pebbles into your outstretched hand, warm from his touch, and doesn't that make your insides turn to mush.  

“Takes one to know one.”

You take a pebble into your hand and flick your wrist.

It sinks right where it lands.

“Motherfucker,” you curse as Noah breaks out into laughter, his wide brown eyes dancing with glee as you pout.

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you wave off, “best two out of three.”

“No,” Noah snips back, “you lost.”

You roll your eyes, shoving him playfully. “Alright alright but I don’t even know how to swim so it’s not really my fault.” You look around at the lake. It’s a beautiful sight, the woods on the other side of the shore like something right out of a painting.

“You don’t know how to swim,” Noah says without missing a beat, ready to keep on teasing you.

You shrug, “it’s not like I had a pool in my backyard.”

His expression falls, “yeah well,” he fiddles with his beanie, “mom filled it up not long after. . .”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, closing the distance between the two of you, and wrapping your arms around him in an easy hug because you knew that Noah could be weird about this sort of sudden affection.

“It’s fine.”

“Still.”

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek.

The gesture sends your heart beating like a hummingbird in your chest, the base of your throat burning with anticipation for something you’ve never let yourself think about because when had it ever been the right time for this. When had you ever had the time to think about the possibility you dared no name.

Noah’s brows furrow, “where are we?”

You frown, looking around without moving away from him. The feel of his hand against the skin of your cheek felt like the only thing anchoring you to this world. It made you feel real in a way that you’d stopped feeling like a part of the world ever since the terrors of your senior year had started. The shoreline looks beautiful as you gaze out at the lake and behind you there’s a small quaint town and you know this has something to do with Tom and Andy but you can’t remember what right now even as you bite your lip in thought.

Your gaze goes back to Noah, words dying on your parted lips when you meet his eyes. Gone are the warm brown irises that had given him the perfect puppy dog eyes as a child, able to slip out of trouble easily. Instead his eyes burn an electric blue because it’s not Noah anymore but the shadow monster and you flinch in fear, pulling away so fast you stumble, tripping over grass and then you’re falling into the lake.

You can’t swim.

You scream, arms flailing out trying desperately to catch yourself.

Noah-the monster-the monster that might be Noah, reaches out one shadowy limp, and then you’re underwater.

Plunged suddenly into ice water, you take a deep breath from the shock that fills your lungs with water and you kick your legs but they are stuck in something and the sunlights never seemed so far away.

You don’t want to drown.

You don’t want to die here.

“Noah,” you scream in the water. Because if it is Noah he’ll help you. He won’t let you die. He died to save you once after all and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that day. You hadn’t wanted to die but you hadn’t wanted him to die either. You had just wanted him.

You had just wanted the nightmare to end.

Gasping, drenching in sweat, you jolt up from the desk you’d fallen asleep on. Everyone’s packing up their things and leaving. The class is over and you’re shaking, looking around wildly as if you can conjure Noah up by sheer force of will.

He’d been in your dream.

Just like Andy a year ago.

It was real.

Noah was still out there and you had to find him before he lost his mind alone in the awful forest that you still hated. The leaves rustling outside your windows at night was enough to keep you from leaving your bed. The way the trees cast shadows meant you threw the trash away in the morning.

Noah was still out there and he needed you.

You don’t realize you’re crying until your English 101 Professor walks up to you, still sitting even as the next set of students start filling in.

“Do you think you can stand up,” he asks, peering down through his glasses. He’s an older man, beard gone white, short, with a bit of a belly like most middle aged people. Clad in corduroy, a white shirt, and a wool vest, he’s the very picture of what you imagine a professor to look like. Nothing like your biology professor who’d walked into class with sandals and a big tie dye piece of fabric that almost worked as a dress.

You nod, grabbing your notebook and hastily shoving it into your backpack, ignoring the searching stares of other students.

You follow your professor out the door, still shaking, shoving the hair that was sticking to your forehead, damp with sweat, out of your face. Your eyes flit around, searching for a boy you know isn’t there but if Jane sensed your distress with Cody then maybe Noah will sense yours.

“Sorry,” your professor says bashfully, “I still haven’t learned names, but are you alright? You look really shaken.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, all bundled up in a flannel, sweater, and jacket combo that helped ease the a/c that blasted the lecture room into arctic temperatures. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just had a nightmare.”

“Hope I wasn’t that bad,” the man chuckles, “it was only the first lecture.”

“No,” you try, “no, it’s not you. I’ve-I have a lot of nightmares. And I don’t get much sleep.”

“Because of the nightmares,” the man asks, and you wonder what you’re doing spilling your guts out to this stranger when you keep telling Andy that you’re good. You keep telling Dan that you’re getting enough sleep and no mom you were eating a big heart breakfast even though it was usually only cereal that turned to mush before you could finish it.

“Yeah,” you sigh, clutching onto the strap of your backpack. “I’ve just sort of been a mess. And,” your voice cracks, “it’s just me. For a while it was all of my friends but they got better and I feel like shit because I can’t move on and it’s been almost a year.” And there was the word vomit.

“I know it’s not much but,” your professor tries, “everyone heals at different lengths of time.”

“I think I’m late for class,” you suddenly realize, because you’d scheduled art history right after english so you wouldn’t have nothing to do on campus for over an hour.

“It’s just the first day,” he repeats.

“I should get going,” you tell him.

“Of course.”

“I’ll try not to fall asleep in your class.”

“How about you first try to get some sleep at home.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks, “yeah. No promises though.”

You’re painstakingly trying to make dinner that isn’t kraft mac and cheese or a frozen entree from trader joes. But you quickly learn that you don’t have a lot of the pantry staples. Like pepper, or bay leaves, and kraft mac and cheese was looking likelier by the minute. Who knew making pasta was so complicated.

At least you have salt for the pasta water, from the salt packets you’d collected over the course of the last month of take out. It was economical despite what Stacey had chastised you about the last time you’d facetimed. One takeout box worked as lunch and dinner.

Maybe Dan had a point.

You probably weren’t eating enough. All your jeans were a little loose now, but at least you were finally using the belt Ava had given you for your birthday so that you too could be “a bad bitch like me,” according to her.

At least the pasta sauce was easty, being from a can, all you had to do was heat it up.

There was enough daylight left, even as fall crept into the world, that you left the curtains open. It wasn’t like you were completely abandoned out here. You lived at the old house at the end of a street. And yeah, the woods surrounded your humble abode one three sides, but if you screamed, the neighbors would definitely hear.

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be Cid running over to check on you anymore.

You finally finish making pasta, only to find you didn’t leave the pasta boiling for long enough. The noodles are still chewy but you power through it in the name of self care.

It’s not that bad. Really, for the first attempt. You’ll have to go grocery shopping for more than chips and lunchables though if you plan on cooking more in the future and fuck why does everything connect back to Noah.

Like a great student in the cast of the Lucas, you’ve already finished your assignments due tomorrow but only because yeah, Andy had sort of been right, living this close to the woods freaked you out at night but every single night, like tonight, you bundled yourself in an oversized sweater you might or might not have begged off Noah’s mom, and step into your backyard with a heavy duty flashlight because you know you saw him. He’s out there, and maybe Lucas and Lily had been right to leave far far away, but you couldn’t when Noah was stuck here forever.

He didn’t deserve that. He was just a messed up kid the same way you all were after having gone messing around in those ruins as kids.

You step into the chilly air in dollar tree flip flops that you’d bought when you’d all gone to drop Tom off at his new job by his university, the local one that Tom had sort of always wanted to go to because unlike you, he’d thought about college since junior year instead of waiting for the last quarter of high school to panic. Your feet still get dirt on them, but not as much as if you went out barefoot.

“Noah,” you utter as loud as you dare in the quiet of the evening.

You didn't fancy becoming the local neighborhood crazy lady though you were on your way there.

Maybe it could be you and Ava as the village witches.

Holding the flashlight loosely, the same one Noah had taken into the woods when you’d both gone to save Dan, you cry out, feeling more sure of yourself by the minute, “Noah, are you out there? I think I saw you but considering how many police officers thought I must've seen things back in-well that night, I could have just imagined you. But I didn't, did I?” You sigh, peering out into the dark. “Do you remember me Noah? I'm your friend and-I just want to know you're there. I miss you Noah.”

Nothing peers back at you.

Last year, you'd feared seeing something looking back at you from the trees. Now, you wish there was a monster lurking about. Your monster.

Your life had officially gone from an Ari Aster horror movie to a Guillermo Del Toro movie. But given the last months, you weren't surprised.

You bite your lip, taking one last look around the yard before turning back to go to bed. “Goodnight Noah.”

Even Ava would be concerned if she knew you were purposely trying to get the shadow monster creature that Noah now was to come. She was firmly on the Noah is a SOB club. Which you might have been in if you hadn't seen Noah in the last moments of his life.

If he hadn't ultimately saved both you and Jane. In the end.

If if if. Your entire life now centered around what ifs.

You kick the kitchen counters in frustration. “Fuck,” you yell, wishing you could fix things: feeling helpless and alone and this would probably be another night tossing and turning until sunrise.

The pan of pasta you'd made earlier clatter to the floor, tomato sauce spilling like blood on the tile floor.

You scream, the ice in your veins thawing for the first time in months only to give way to the familiar terror of knowing something was in here with you. Something was in your kitchen.

You turn, bracing yourself for disappointment.

A figure coalesces from the shadows in the middle of your kitchen--you'd walked right by it without out noticing--it's eerie blue eyes glittering like fireflies in the encroaching darkness of the twilight hours. It casts its shadow across the entire house, blotting out the lamplight from the hallway, from the patio lights.

Noah.

You don't think twice, because it's Noah. Doesn't matter what shape or form he takes, you'd know this boy anywhere. Maybe it was Jane or running into the woods alone together that had bonded you until you couldn't even accept the idea he might be gone when every fiber of your being knew he wasn't, but you know it's him.

You reach out towards the shadows, taking a step forward, “Noah,” you whisper gently, awed by the fact he was finally here. “I've missed you. I-I was scared I wouldn't see you again. That you didn't want to see me.”

The creature that is and isn't Noah tilts its head, and you wonder if he remembers you at all.

You take another step forward, full in the shadows reach, “Do you remember me Noah? I'm your. . .” Friends wasn't enough to cover the ocean currents of emotions that swept through you when it came to Noah. “You're Noah. And I promised I wouldn't leave you again and I mean to keep my promise.”  

Your outstretched hand hovers between you, putting the ball firmly in his court. You're close enough where you could just touch him, but you wait.

Finally, after holding your breath and listening to blood rush in your ears, Noah reaches out with his own hand-like shadow brushing like a cool breeze against your hand.

“Sss s-stay.”

You nod quickly, a smile forming in your lips, tears of joy in your eyes forming rivers down your cheeks. “I will. You don't have to be alone anymore Noah. Not ever.”

during.

Your painstakingly cut out all the different groceries on the flyers as well as adding in all the index cards of additional groceries that weren't on the flyers instead of finishing your calculus homework. You couldn't wait until you were done with math for life.

It was nice to sit on the floor if a little awkward as Noah hovered about. Sometimes it was a lot like talking to yourself.

“-So my english teacher, professor I mean, put me in touch with a company to do their social media since I'm good at english or whatever. You know, the one I told you saw me wake up from a nightmare. Which is nice since I could use a big girl job. I sent my very sparse resume this morning so I'm just waiting to hear back from them.” You start spreading out each card on the floor before curling up on the sofa.

“Okay Noah,” you gesture with a laugh because really what was your life that you were letting Noah who didn't even have a body decide your grocery list for the week. “Remember we want a pile.” You'd dubbed this monster motor skills practice much to Noah's annoyance.

His eyes flicker red and you can guess the look he's giving you.

“Oh shut up,” you laugh easily, “I have to have my fun somehow. We don't all get to knock food off the counter when you don't like it.” He didn't even eat and yet somehow your cooking skills were still offensive to him.

He laughs in an approximation of leaves rustling in the wind: leaves crunching under boots as you walked through the woods. Then, Noah finally starts grasping at the bits of paper in creative ways. Sometimes he conjures up a gust of wind which has vastly improved from blowing everything to just getting the right bit of paper onto the couch by your side. Occasionally he'll grasp at the paper which is a toss up if it'll actually work. Then there the good old vanishing and reappearing which is the most taxing but fun to watch.

“I see you think we have that adult money,” you grown as he goes for the wagyu beef. “I'm going to have to stop letting you watch worth it when I'm in class.”

Noah grumbles, before sending a pillow your way.

Another headshot.

“Don't be a dick.”

“Sss o rry,” Noah says, not meaning it even a tiny bit.

You dissolve into laughter because honestly what was your life that this was how you spent your days. With Noah. With your monster.

It takes another hour but you finally have your list. “I'm not making lasagna. Baked ziti is easier.”

Noah sends a burst of wind your way.

“Shut up I’m not lazy. Cooking is just so long! You have to cut all these things and lasagna means boiling so many noodles without tearing them and I always feel like I'm wasting salt by seasoning the water.” You ramble on as you copy down the homework answers for your math work from Slader.

“Las yyya.”

“Ziti,” you counter, refusing to budge. “Maybe art history could be my major but I think I like the writing part of english the most, but I wouldn't want to be an english teacher.”

“Lasss a ya.”

“Fine,” you roll your eyes, “I won't change the subject but the answer’s still ziti.”

If he could, you imagine Noah would roll his eyes as he settles down on the couch in front of you. You sitting criss cross applesauce on the couch with your laptop and notebook.

Noah reaches his hand out and you no longer flinch at the cool touch of shadow that obscure everything. Like a black void, not cold or warm. His touch is the closest thing to warmth you've felt since that night and maybe something inside of you was permanently broken if you couldn't get warm.

His hand against yours, hovering in the air because he wasn't corporal enough to hold your hand and fuck your heart aches at the thought that this is as good as it gets. That your growing pile of research into folklore and the occult that you hid from Ava wouldn't fix this. That you couldn't bring Noah back to.  . .back to himself.

Someone knocks on the door.

It must be Dan.

Noah rises like the moon in the night sky, smothering out the light pouring in from the windows, eyes flashing red.

You roll your eyes. Men. “It's just Dan. He's a friend. Your friend too. Remember I told you about our friends?”

Noah tilts his head. “fr iendssss?”

“Yeah. Friends,” you concur, tucking your hair behind your ears as you close your computer. “Now go. I'll be back tonight.”

“Noah ahhh lone.”

You shake your head having gone through this a hundred times before. “Don't be so melodramatic Noah. I'm going to the grocery store and mooching off Dan's car, ‘s not like I'm going to the moon.”

Within the span of a blink, he's gone.

You open the door to Dan’s cheery face. “So High school still sucks. I should've done online homeschool.”

“Well don't tell Ava that. She'll never let you live it down,” you comment.

Dan shrugs. “It's nice having Andy though. And you two.”

“Ah yes, us,” you tease, “the village weirdos.”

“It's good to see you laughing again,” Dan comments without judgement. “You looked rough all summer.”

You bite your lip, thinking his words over. “Yeah. It’s. . .Its nice to feel like a real living person again.”

“Did you go to therapy like Stacey said,” Dan asks.

You shake your head. “I stopped looking back.” Which was almost the whole truth. You'd stopped looking back because Noah was here with you now.

Deciding to change the subject because you hated lying to your friend, you ask, “did Ava say what our halloween plans are this year?”

Dan nods, letting it go, “Rocky Horror Picture Show plus lots of booze. Her words, not mine.”

“Andy shot down the cemetery idea?”

“Tom was the winning argument,” Dan confesses. “Called getting drunk at the cemetery too pedestrian.”

You laugh so hard your shoulders shake. “Fucking Tom, man. Yeah I wasn't looking forward to sneaking into a cemetery either.” You hated the idea of Noah having a gravestone when he was still alive and kicking. Your major annoyance of a roommate.

“Thank god for theater then,” Dan says with a smile as you pull into town.

It's springtime in your dream. The flowers are brighter and more fragrant than any wildflower bloom you'd seen with your real walking eyes. Even as the rain pours gently in a scene that would never exist in the same perfection in real life.

You're in the same opening in the woods that you'd found Dan in. A place you hadn't ventured since.

Noah sits, back against a tree truck, as close to flesh and blood as he could get nowadays.

Without hesitation, you run to him, “Noah,” you cry out in joy.  

His disarmingly warm brown eyes meet yours, brimming with the same joy you feel bubbling up from the tips of your toes all the way to your lips where you're smiling so hard it hurts. “Sup.”

You giggle, sitting down next to him, “I see you finally learned to talk.”

He rolls his eyes, before he wraps his arms around you and hugs you against his chest. “Is this real? Or just a dream.”

“Funny,” you whisper back softly, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

You're missing him the moment he lets you go, pulling back. His shoulder still resting against yours as if you're two trees leaning against each other for support, too intertwined to separate now.

Noah studies you carefully, without any shame, with his own features for once. He looks at you with a kind of heart wrenching earnestness that you can't bear to see for this long without reaching for him but you don't dare.

You look away, the hollow of your mouth filling with emotion. You don't know what to do with it.

You hug your knees to your chest, lapsing into silence.

He brings his hand up to your cheek, causing you to wordlessly lean into his touch, a bone deep need that would send you into his arms even knowing that he'd led you and all your friends into a trap. Even then, you'd still follow him down to the ruins.

“I'm sorry,” he finally manages, his hand cool against your skin like his shadow form. And for once, in this dream, you're not shivering with cold.

“If you had told me,” you utter gently, “about Jane, I would've helped you.”

“Well I know that now,” Noah states bitterly, his thumb caressing your hallowed cheek. It seemed like months of barely eating had taken their toll on you after all. And while you were now making the effort to eat, you still weren't at your natural weight.

You smile tightly, wishing like you knew he was, that things had gone different somewhere along the line: that you had more than just dreams and a shadow. You wish you had the boy you missed even if he was a dick sometimes. You wish you could act on the feelings that had only grown even with Noah in his current state.

“Where did your chipmunk cheeks go,” he suddenly teases, steering the conversation away from becoming a sob fest on your end. Maybe his too. You weren't sure.

You scowl, but don't pull out of his hold, feelings incredibly relaxed with him. “Don't-”

He smiles a shit eating grin, mischief twinkling in his chestnut eyes, “is it because you can't cook?”

“You're such a dick,” you utter with a disbelieving laugh, even as you shove his shoulder roughly, breaking whatever heavy tension had weld up between the two of you.

“Oh and you're a fucking angel now are you,” he retorts.

“Well excuse me for forgetting which jar of white stuff was the sugar and which was the salt! I was just trying to be cute!”

Noah doesn't relent, “and which was the jar of coke.”

You roll your eyes. “You've got to ratatouille me if we're ever going to get anywhere in the kitchen.”

“God I love that movie,” Noah says with a fond smile on his face that softens his entire features up. When he smiles like that, he's heartbreakingly handsome that you can't look away, caught in his gravitational pull and fuck you don't stand a chance.

“Me too.” You agree. “We should watch it tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Noah says, puffing up his chest and sitting up straight as he holds his hand out.

You shake on it, before you both burst out laughing.

For the first time in months, you have to force yourself to wake up.

You're making pancakes for lunch. Nothing fancy, a box mix much too Noah's annoyance. You were in the mood for them and you had a mix so it was a total no brainer.

Noah's in the woods somewhere. He's yet to drag you in too deep, having quickly realized that you were still fucked up about venturing into the woods even with the biggest baddest monster around as your best friend. You can sense him out there even from your downsized house which was homier than your actual house ever was.

It's been over a year.

You think you're making a lot of progress.

You sleep through the night. You turn the lights off. And you don't flinch at the sound of random large noises.

Lucas even talked about visiting for the summer.

Progress.

It's a saturday morning and you only have an hour or two of work to get through, mostly email correspondence. Working from home was unexpected, but it saved you from dealing with customers. You got enough horror stories from your friends. You've got most of the day to spend with Noah and you're starting to feel like you should take him up on a walk through the woods.

Someone knocks on your door.

You aren't expecting anyone.

You swallow, reminding yourself that nothing was haunting you now. There was no monster waiting to kill you anymore. And monsters don't knock.

They knock again.

You brace yourself, before peering though the peephole.

It was just Tom and someone you'd never met before. Just Tom.

You open the door. “Hey Tom,” you say friendly enough, remembering to smile and act like a real human being instead of the heavily traumatized teenager you still were.

His own face is a grim mirror image of yours only a few months ago. All dead eyes and hallowed out. “I,” he looks at the friend he's brought along, “We have a problem. Like the one that happened here.”

Your stomach drops and you can only think Noah, as the ice in your veins ratchets up and you feel frozen in place.

Tom continues on, caught up in his own terror, “I already texted the others. I-I didn't know who else to ask.”

You feel yourself nod in some strange out of body experience which finds you sitting on your sofa.

“I smell something burning,” Tom's friend asks, clearing wondering if you're going to get up, but that seems like an impossible task as you think and think yourself into a black hole of misery.

What now.

Someone must've turned off the pancakes at some point you think as your friends still in town fill your house even as you sit on your sofa, a little ball of self amplifying panic that fills your chest and you're so so cold. It's summer again. A hot 89 degrees Fahrenheit and you're wearing a hoodie that's long lost Noah's scent.

You pull the sleeves down over your hands as Dan takes a seat next to you.

Ava has a thick three inch black binder of occult lore ready to go even as Andy jokes about Ava having finally achieved her lifelong dream.

It doesn't take long for the smiles to fade as Tom’s friend goes over  their situation and yeah. . .it sounds like a monster. Like Jane. Like Noah.

A monster in a lake.

It made sense.

What was a forest without something lurking among the trees. What was a lake without something hidden in its depths.

“I can't swim,” you utter the same words you'd told Noah months ago. It hadn't been a dream then anymore than your usual nights were. The only time that you and Noah saw each other as close to normal as possible.

You'd missed the quirk of his mouth as he laughed, the corners of his eyes all scrunched up.

Tom forces a smile for your benefit. “When we get rid of this thing you guys should come over for a swim.”

“Hell yeah,” Andy chimes in, patting your knee, “I can teach you to swim.”

You shake your head. “That's not what I meant. I-,” you glance at all the faces staring at you, waiting. You take a deep breath, your heartbeat slowing down as you sense Noah draw near. You hug your arms to your chest, always cold. “I had a dream about a lake, a couple months ago. I drowned. . .something drowned me.”

Dan inhales sharply, staring intently at his shoes.

“You think it's got something to do with the power,” Andy asks out loud.

“It has to be connected dude,” Tom says with a nod. “If they're sensing it from here.”

“It is only on the other side of the woods,” Ava points out, looking over at you with a frown.

Noah's inpatient. You can sense him pacing around the tree line behind your house. Your anxiety must’ve worried him.

You make the tough call. “Guys,” you stand up, moving towards the back door. “I have something to show you.”

They follow you out without a thought, everyone reeling from their own trauma as Ava and Tom bounce ideas off each other. Toms friend. . .you hadn't caught a name, looks just as shaken as you used to feel every day.

You force yourself to look at the trees. “Noah,” you reach a hand out, “it's okay. They're friends. You can come out.”

Ava's face immediately tenses, shooting you a dark look that means you are definitely having amping talk with her later. Right, she was part of club Noah was a rat faced liar.

Tree branches rustle and you smile as you spot a cluster of shadows in the split second before they form a humanoid body.

“Oh jeez,” Andy says painfully, wincing as Noah emerges into your backyard, eyes a sparkling blue of a lightning bolt.

You draw your hand back to your chest, imagine the way he'd held it in the dream, and that he couldn't in life.

“Friend ss!”

Dan jumps back a good two feet. Tom's gaze flits between you and Noah, before deciding to focus on Noah.

His friend utters, “is-are we safe?”

“Yeah Noah,” you reply ignoring her, “they're friends. They have their own not so friendly scooby doo monster they need help with. Remember Tom.”

Noah nods, “bass ket ball….Andy!”

“I'm sorry,” Ava cuts in sharply, glaring at you. “How long has this been going on for exactly?”

Noah looks at you, and you don't know if it's sheepish or if it's, you want me to get rid of them, so you cut in. “It doesn't matter. This,” you say, waving at Noah, “is help isn't it?”

“She has a point,” Tom utters with a shrug.

“Sssss orry Ava,” Noah utters loud enough to scare off the birds that had been standing on the utility pole.

Ava blinks, clearly thrown for a loop. And then decides to let it go for now, “Fine, fine but don't blame me when the shadow monster kills us all.”

“Which shadow monster,” Dan points out because now there were two. But one was Noah and he'd never hurt anyone. You knew that for a fact the same way you knew that Noah would capitulate to playing fear factor tea party even though he found worms disgusting as a kid.  

“We have the worst luck,” Andy groans.

Tom's friend shrugs, “I'll take all the help I can get.”

You look back over at Noah, who's at least trying, by shrinking himself down to almost human sized. “Behave.” You say teasingly, wagging a finger and everything.

Noah's eyes flash red which sends them all a step back. “Yessss mom,” he croaks back in the most teenage angst tone of voice that has you thinking you might just lift the my chemical romance ban for the week.

“You're such a dick,” you snip back with a laugh. You catch Andy's gaze, his expression funny as he looks at you, but says nothing.

Ava rounds on you as soon as Noah and the others are gone. You can sense him getting further and further away and your gut turns because what if he never comes back. “When the hell were you going to tell us about that thing!”

“It's Noah,” you protest with a whine.

Andy scowls angrily, “that's not Noah. And even if it was he tried to kill us, or don't you remember?”

You flinch because yeah. There wasn't exactly much you could say on that front.

“He was trying to help Jane,” you speak up, trying anyway.

“Ugh,” Ava groans, punching her nose bridge, “that was never Jane and it's not Noah. It's a monster. Get that through your head.”

You curl up into yourself.

“Guys,” Dan tries to speak up, but Ava is on a roll.

“It could have killed you,” she shouts, voice breaking.

“Noah wouldn't-” you protest, trying to get them to understand, but your limbs are heavy. Your cold and all you want to do is curl up in bed until he gets back.

“Noah tried to kill us,” Andy reiterates.

Which has you back to square one, “because he was trying to save Jane! He didn't know she was going to kill us and it doesn't matter because he died for me in the end,” you snap back just as pissed off.

“It wasn't Jane,” Ava says waving her arms aggressively.

“How else would she have known about the whistle?”

“Because Noah told Redfield!”

You shake your head. “You were there. You saw her cross out Redfield,” you tell the three of them. “And I was there at the end. Noah chose to die so Jane could finally be free. He died so I got to leave that place.” A violent shiver runs down your spine.

Andy draws back. You hadn't said a word of what transpired after you were left alone with the Marshall twins, it had seemed to be a private and intimate matter.

“So yeah,” you finish, “maybe he did lure us down there, but he also died to keep any of us from dying. You don't have to forgive him but he's lord fucking voldemort or sauron.”

Dan looks at you with pity.

You all sit down in an angry cloud of silence that buzzes and pricks at your thoughts. This was exactly why you hadn't told them.

“At least you finally found your spunk again,” Ava offers after a few minutes.

You ignore her.

She rolls her eyes, looking through her supernatural research.

“How long,” Dan ventures to ask.

The others are listening. They don't look at you but they straighten up on the couch.

For once you're glad not everyone is here. Stacey was relentless and Lucas never would never stop going at it even when he'd made his point. Lily might understand, but she'd still be hurt.

“Since last fall,” you admit.

Dan nods as though he had guessed as much, “when you started getting better.”

You nod. “Noah doesn't let me eat frozen meals or takeout all week.”

“Oh fuck,” Ava swears, “it really is Noah.”

You pull the fleece blanket that's usually somewhere in the living room over your shoulders to try and warm up, a useless exercise, you knew that by now but it didn't stop you. Not when your joints hurt from the cold. You couldn't wait until Noah got back.

“You know it's 93 degrees out right,” Andy says lightly.

“Yeah,” you shrug shamelessly, “I'm freezing though.”

Ava tilts her head in thought.

“Yeah, I'll say,” Andy replies, “you're not even sweating in this heat.”

“He's-he's never hurt you, not even by accident,” Dan asks gently.

“No-god no,” you answer honestly. “He's-well he's got okay control now. He did ruin a couple light bulbs but he's. . .he’s never forgotten he's Noah so no he wouldn't hurt me.”

“I hope for your sake you're right,” Andy mutters darkly. “You're the one playing house with a shadow monster.”

You slump into the couch as your cheeks burn. You can't make yourself look at any of them because Andy's words hit closer to home then you would like.

This was probably as good as it was going to get for you and Noah. There was no first kiss, no holding hands or. . .there was just the hours you slept in bed and your own monster who kept you cool if not warm.

And even with that realization, you'd still choose him.

Wasn't that what love is?

after.

“I can't believe you went on a dumb ghost adventure without me and unlocked a whole new skill,” you complain while sipping on your match latte that you'd bought that little electric thing for specifically.

Noah does jazz hands with a deadpan expression on his face that makes the action even more surreal, now semi transparent and glowing a ghostly blue but at least looking like himself.

You'd both been binge watching danny phantom for ideas.

You were coming up on the second year of community college and it was time to think about transferring. . .to the nearest university because Noah was pretty much bound to these woods. And there was no way in hell you were leaving him. So there was one choice.

This morning you really only had to select your next fall semester classes. But first, spotify. You needed some jams to get you through the morning.

“At least there’s something to be said for being a ghost monster thing,” Noah shrugs, sitting down on the floor, attempting to turn the page on a book you’d left open last night, too exhausted to clean up. His hand passes right through the pages.

“Noah,” you complain weakly because boy oh boy did this boy say the saddest things sometimes and it sucked you couldn’t actually hug him because you had the feeling that your words didn’t always stick. It was clear that Noah didn’t always believe you when you said your plethora of comforting words in place of hugging him until he realized just how much he meant to you.

He looks up at you from the floor with an easy smile. “Yeah?”

And you roll your eyes. Joking about it was good. Your therapist had said it wouldn’t always be as bad as it had been that first week when you’d been practically catatonic in the hospital. “How does tame impala sound,” you ask him because manners. It’s not like he could change the music, and you never wanted him to feel left out just because he wasn’t solid enough to affect the material world.

“I’m not listening to elephant for two hours.”

“Hey,” you yelp, “sometimes I listen to let it happen.”

He sneers, “still not listening to the same two songs on replay.”

“Who listens to an entire album all the way through,” you complain. “Fine, what do you want to listen to? And it can’t be angsty. I want to have a nice morning.”

“Oh come one,” Noah laughs, “Evanescence is unmatched.”

You scrunch your mouth in thought even as you bob your head in agreement. “It does have to be good to be meme worthy. But also, like what emo preteen didn’t have a big fat crush on Amy Lee.”

“I remember you being obsessed with daredevil,” Noah reminisces.

“Hey,” you point out, looking up from the list of classes, “I was obsessed with elektra. Get your facts straight.”

Noah laughs, floating up to sit by you on the couch because he might look like he used too but he was still more ghost than living breathing person, “like that makes it better.”

You smile nostalgically, your knees bouncing with delight as you abandoned the pretense of school to talk with Noah: an easy choice. “You remember when me and Jane would pretend to be elektra and catwoman?”

He snorts, shaking his head with amusement, hands resting on his knees even as he leans in closer to you, “I remember you two would chase me around the house with a stick.”

“It was a knife man,” you say between laughs, “you’ve got to use,” you raise your hands to mimic spongebob, creating a rainbow shape, “you’re imagination.”

He brushes strands of auburn hair from his eyes, and the action strikes a chord in your heart that makes you wish more than anything you could reach out and touch him.

But he’s intangible.

You shove that thought down, focusing instead of enjoying this moment with him. “How about Florence and the Machine?”

“Why are you always shooting down my ideas,” Noah huffs, smiling too softly as he gazes at you to truly be hurt or annoyed.

“You made us listen to Nickelback last time!”

He shrugs shamelessly, “Nickelback is unmatched performance art. And I stand by that statement.”

You shake your head, wracked with laughter until you feel pinpricks of tears in your eyes because this boy! It always came back to Noah and how easily he was able to tease a lightness out of you that you thought you’d lost forever after the night of the school dance.

“Gorillaz?”

He hums in thought, “Demon days.”

You scroll through spotify easily enough. That album was among your top played.

You keep the volume low because you are a certified adult and it's morning and you don’t want a racket this early in the morning. Well, noon, but that was early for you. Okay, so you were only sort of an adult, but you could make pasta without burning anything so baby steps.

“Hey,” Noah asks gently.

You look up, only to find him having shifted closer to you. If Noah could breathe, you’d no doubt be able to feel the warmth of his breath, but you’ll settle for his soothing presence that takes the sting from your perpetual chill. He’s leaning forward and his hand hovers above the skin of your cheek and you don’t dare to lean into his touch no matter how much you yearn to feel the touch of his skin that you know you won’t get because he’s not tangible.

So you lock eyes with him, holding your breath, gut clenching in anticipation.

Noah parts his lips as if to speak, but utters nothing. He closes his mouth again, letting the silence press on.

It might all be in your head, but you swear you can feel the warmth of his hand against your skin. His thumb rubs circles you can’t feel against your cheek.

He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, a sigh escaping your lips at the close contact. There’s a deep well of longing for more than can ever be possible between you and Noah at the base of your throat.

It’s easy to forget, but Noah’s dead.

He died and he’s here but not in the same way you’re part of this world.

A breeze passes over the swell of your mouth, and you slowly open your eyes, heart lodged in your throat.

Noah’s shifted his hold down to your jaw, sitting up on his knees as he leans towards you like a sunflower grows towards the sun, his thumb brushing over your mouth. And you wish more than anything that you could kiss him.

It’s always strange to look into his eyes, expecting a soft hazelnut hue, and seeing an inhuman vibrant blue of an electrical shortage.

“I’m glad it's you,” Noah whispers softly, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze.

It’s enough to break your heart all over again. “I’m just happy you’re here,” you say, painfully aware of the tears forming in your eyes. He was the choice you made over and over again because you’d take whatever Noah had to offer.

“If-,” he utters carefully, “if I could, I would kiss you right now.”

“I’d let you.”

His eyes reflect the same heart wrenching pain of knowing that anything more between you two just wasn’t in the cards.

You summoned the courage to lift your hand to cup his jaw, mindful to hover just over the space where his body should be, guided by the spectral blue outline. There’s nothing but air under your fingers.

Noah, forever out of your reach.

There’s a reason you try not to think about this situation too hard.

There’s no happy ending to be found here.

One second, Noah’s intertwined with you.

Within the span of a blink, he’s gone.

Disappeared.

Right, he’s a ghost, he can do that.

You walk through a trail behind your house. The suns still high in the sky and the anxiety is manageable with Noah goofing off along with you as you complain about having to take biology as a english major and the fact no one in your group for political science did any work but you and this international student from Malaysia which you couldn���t point to if someone held a gun to your head. The dumb american sterotype held true for you when it came to geography.

The woods don’t seem as menacing anymore.

“Malaysia’s in southeast asia,” Noah offers.

“How do you know that?”

Noah shrugs, “I wanted to travel. Go anywhere but Westchester.”

You frown. He’d never get to leave now. “Really? I just wanted to go to disney world,” you reply because it was true and you knew it would make him laugh.

He snorts, shaking his head, “you’re so basic.”

“Shut up!” You cry out, smiling easily. “My parents had a conference in disneyworld one year. And after that Disney would send us vacation information and videos back when VHS and DVDs were a thing. It just seemed. . .I know it's a tourist trap but everyone seemed really happy and I’d wanted the videos a lot on the weekends.” You admit, looking down at your sneakers. It seems silly when Noah knows what your family is like, what your perpetually absent parents are like, but you still feel a sense of shame at admitting that your parents never prioritized you.

They were more than happy to have you spend the night with Noah and Jane if that meant not having to take care of you, back when they still flew back to Westchester.

“Disney in Japan’s better,” Noah quips, “and you don’t even have to step foot in florida to go there.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “because we live somewhere better than florida.”

“Much better,” he teases, “we don't have humidity.”

You snort, shaking your head as you continue down the well worn trail.

“Did-can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” you tell him, looking back, and waiting for him to catch up.

Noah floats in front of you, only an inch or two of the ground but it’s fine because no one really goes into the woods here as if there’s some subconscious warning ringing in the prey part of the townspeople’s minds, keeping them away from here. “Did your parents come to your graduation?”

You purse your lips. “No.” And then proceed to make the age old excuses for them. Parent-teacher conference week with your current nanny had been fun. “They were doing research up in Alaska I think. It was the only time of the year for some fish species. . .And Now I don’t really need them.” You think they’re in Antarctica, but you can never be sure. They're very hands off and don’t call except for christmas trusting that if you need anything, you’d call them.

Noah’s eyes flash red, and for a second, he loses control over his appearance. He’s an angry storm of shadows.

It speaks to the fact that for over a year now, he’s been your main companion that you don’t even flinch, just wait for him to calm down.

“It’s whatever,” you shrug, used to being on your own, “I had our whole group and Ava invited me along to her graduation potluck.”

“It’s not whatever,” Noah snarls, having regained his spectral blue form complete with his signature beanie. “They’re your parents.” His outburst sends the birds flying out of the trees, far away from him.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “we don’t exactly have great parents.” Noah’s had been okay if tense before the accident with Jane.

Noah frowns deeply, still seething. When he got into a mood, he could spend days mulling it over, working himself into a whole downward spiral of dark thoughts.

You leave him to his brooding as you make your way back to your house, hands in your jacket pocket: your old leather jacket for once. You knew what to expect from your parents and that was an allowance and a phone call at christmas. Not even almost dying had caused them to fly home and check on you.

The backdoor is open.

You know you'd closed it when you left. Having your own personal ghost hadn't made you sloppy.

You share a glance with Noah before calling out. “Hello?” It could just be Ava pulling a mean prank on you, but she had blatantly refused to come to your house as long as Noah was lingering around. It was a pointless stance when Noah could really wander freely around Westchester and often did. You sensed him around town sometimes when you were in class even if you couldn't see him.

“Oh you're finally back,” Lily says, calling out from your kitchen.

Wait, Lily! Wasn't she supposed to be in California?

“I told you we should've let them know,” Stacey cries out from inside, shrill voice carrying.

Oh! Were they all here.

You step inside excitedly, Noah following suit, still scowling.

He'd eventually get over the thing with your parents. You had.

“What are you all doing here,” you ask, taking in the sight of your friends spread out in your house. It was a tighter fit than your childhood home, but it felt more like a home than that house ever had. Even Toms here on the couch exchanging notes with Ava.

“Friendsgiving,” Lily offers.

You'd forgotten that's why you had the week off from school. It had slipped your mind after years of not doing anything for this holiday. “I thought we were against Thanksgiving?” You feel touched and surprised and happy.

“Oh we are. It's all a bunch of government propaganda,” Lucas says pushing his glasses up, “but we're all in town for the week so. . .”

You smile.

And then Stacey spots Noah lingering by the backdoor.

“You,” she yells, her entire face flushing red.

Noah, who's dick-ish tendencies you're well aware of, proceeds to smirk which only pisses Stacey off more and has Lucas rising to his feet, fueled by the same anger as Stacey. “Me,” he smirks.

Stacey lobs the nearest thing she can find, a plate you'd bought at Ikea a year ago, at him.

Ava looks really pleased with herself.

Noah dodges even though it would've gone right through him.

The plate shatters against the doorframe.

He totally could've caught that. He could've saved your plate.

“Missed Stace,” Noah cackles.

Your friend turns even redder, before grabbing the vase on the table and aiming for Noah once again.

Ava smothers a laugh on the couch.

Lucas is starting to look like he wants in on the action.

Lily looks uncomfortable in the middle of the action. Like she's rather not deal with it which has been your friends m.o. for the last few months. They don't ask about Noah's and you don't bring him up. It'll save Andy an ulcer in the long run.

The vase shatters as it hits the wall, Noah having stepped out of the way in time.

Stacey eyes your favorite black mug emblazoned the sanderson sisters museum, and you know you have to step in.

She's hoisting the mug trying to get a clean shot, not caring that she just spilled half a mug full of water on your floor, when you step in between her and Noah. “Stacey, you're never going to hit him!”

“I don't care,” she snarls furiously. “He tried to kill us!”

“He didn't know,” you defend Noah. Because saying it's been two years wouldn't work. You can't force anyone to forgive him.

“You can't be serious,” Lucas says shaking his head. “After what he did.”

“He was just trying to help Jane. It's not his fault that the power corrupted his sister to the point she would try to kill us!” In the late sleepless nights, you'd thought about Jane and finally gotten that ghost to rest. What else had there been to think about alone and sobbing in the dead of the night, curled up like a bear hibernating for winter.

“I can't believe you're defending him!” Stacey yells.

You cross your arms over your chest, staring her down.

Lily tilts her head, glancing behind you at Noah, “I didn't know you could look like. . .you.”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, raising his arms to do jazz hands. “Ta-da.”

“It's a new development,” you offer through clenched teeth, still busy staring down Lucas and Stacey, who still has your mug in her hand.

“He learned it from our lake monster,” Tom adds, looking through your vinyls. “Man you've got to get some older stuff and not just what urban outfitter’s selling.”

You frown. “What's wrong with Lana Del Rey?”

“You just need more variety,” Tom councils.

“I told you,” Noah says with an annoyingly charming smirk. He pats your shoulder with his hand even though it goes right through the layers of clothes that you're bundled up in.

You roll your eyes.

“No,” Lucas says, head in his hands, “we’re not doing this. We’re not acting like everything's fine,” he manages through a clenched jaw.

You raise a brow at your friends. Stacey’s still visibly pissed. Ava has her own arms crossed over her chest, but resigned since she's had more time to process. Andy's sneaking a slice of pumpkin pie as the drama unfolds.

Lily won't meet your gaze.

Dan looks like he wants to speak up, but he doesn't and you understand because it's a lot to forgive let alone forget for long enough to sit down to a friendsgiving when Noah can't even eat food anymore and instead goes around pestering you to make meals from scratch.

“It's fine,” Noah says quietly. “I can just go.”

“You do that,” Stacey replies bitingly.

“Noah you-,” you turn to protest. But he's gone.

You swallow your words, looking at your friends. “So are we making or just reheating,” because you love your friends as much as you love Noah. It's why it feels like your heart’s being torn in half.

“A bit of both,” Tom says, “nothing complex.”

“Britney said she's on her way now,” Lily adds. “hope you don't mind. She's bringing Jocelyn since Jocelyn's friends with Tom.”

Your eye twitches. It's unfair that they can have you the two girls who bullied you all for years to the point you got bruises and Lily would skip class to cry in the bathroom but you can't have Noah here when he only tried to kill you all once on accident.

“We might have to use my desk chair and the couch but I think we can make it work,” you say instead of picking a fight.

Lily smiles happily and tells you about these cute turkey plates she got from the 99 cent store at the beginning of the month.

Britney's making you all watch Legally Blonde which no one is really mad about.

You've gotten a thick wool blanket because you're starting to shiver with cold and it's not even 11 at night but you're ready to kick them out so Noah'll come back. You're squished in between Tom and Ava which means they spend the entire time talking your ear off about the power and Ava's current witchcraft project which involves lots of dirt, salt, and herbal oils. They lose you and you're not sure what the spell’s supposed to do but Ava does conjure an actual flame from her fingertip.

Dans laughing easily, sitting on the ground by your feet, with Andy and Jocelyn, who's still bitchy but in a more affable way that gets a laugh out of you.

It's a nice night, one of the best you've had in a while with all your friends and now their friends too and you think that it would be easy to be friends for life. It's been two years since that school dance night. You've all kept touch.

But it's just not the same without Noah.

You're probably the only one who thinks that.

The dream is easy to get lost in. You and Noah throwing popcorn at each other instead of paying attention in the dream movie theater. Every time you look up at the screens there's a different movie playing.

At least here Noah is tangible, the popcorn he throws getting tangled in your hair even as you slump in your seat to try and dodge the attacks.

Noah grins mischievously and you don't have time to move before he's dumping the entire bucket of popcorn on your head.

“You're such a dick,” you laugh, beginning the long work of getting popcorn out of your hair. They don't stick in Noah's brown locks.

“It's a dream,” Noah notes, “just imagine them away.”

“Okay,” you try, shutting your eyes and imagining your hair a lavender purple shade.

You open your eyes and sure enough the popcorns gone. “Kind of digging how dreams work.”

“There's some nice things about them,” Noah agrees.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Like this,” Noah grins smugly before leaning in and-

“Get up,” Ava snaps gleefully, as she pounces on you in bed.

“Wha-”

“Hurry up,” she repeats as you blink, trying to get your bearings.

“How did you get in here?” You ask, shoving her off you.

“Door,” she shrugs, “I found a spell to unlock locks. Where's your boyfriend?”

“My what!” You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you rush to change into a pair of jeans. Maybe a cleaner sweater too.

Ava rolls her eyes. “Your boyfriend. Noah? You're not shivering so he can't be far.”

She grabs your hand as soon as you pull your sweater over your head and drags you out of your room. Tom, Andy, and Dan are loitering around the living room.

After graduating, Andy and Dan have both decided to go to the local university. You knew it had to do with Tom and his whole research into the power even as Ava was planning a semester abroad because she firmly believed that there was more supernatural occurrences in the world.

You close your eyes focusing on Noah. “He's on his way,” you confirm, sending him in the woods near your house. When you both entered the dreamworld, Noah more often than not ended up in the ruins.

You took his word for it.

You didn't plan on ever stepping foot in those ruins again.

“I mean,” Ava laughs humorlessly, “I always thought I was the winona ryder of our group but you're an actual monster fucker so you've got me beat by a mile.”

You can only look at her with alarm, aware your mouth was just hanging open in surprise.

“Please don't say that shit,” Andy groans. “It's bad enough knowing that asshole’s doing fine and dandy not facing punishment.” He says as if Noah didn't die.

“I'm-what, what's going on here?” You look around at your friends.

They exchange glances as Noah appears, back resting against the wall looking too cool for school in his usual disaffected way, hands in his pockets.

Andy sighs, before speaking up, “Tom, I think you should-”

“No,” Ava shakes her head, “I can explain it.”

Tom raises a brow.

She nods. “I'm chill.”

“You've never been chill in your life but go on,” Andy teases.

Ava's expression softens, the guarded rage that simmered in the lines around her frown disappear as she looks at you and Noah. “I think I know how to bring Noah back.”

You swallow, “How-how is that even possible,” because you and Noah have never mentioned the fact that he's dead but he is. You watched him die.

“Ava,” Noah says, long having resigned himself to this partial existence, “even the power can't bring the dead back to life. Just look at the zombie animals. They're not really alive.”

Dan does a little, continue on, hand motion directed at her.

“Well, that's the thing,” she says, locking eyes with Noah, “I don't think you're dead.”

Noah’s expression is stone cold as he outstretches his arms out wide. Which like right, he was literally a ghost right now.

“Yeah,” Ava nods, “I can see that. But, it fits. I first started working on this theory when they mentioned they could sense you, and then there's the fact,” she looks at you now, “you're always cold. And not just you need a jacket cold but cold in the summer heat even with three layers, as if your body was-”

“Dying,” Noah utters aloud.

She nods, looking over at Tom.

He clears his throat, “when people get absorbed into the power, their memories don't last but you remember things pretty well.”

The corners of Noah's mouth lift up, a small smile on his lips. “Well I can't take the credit for that,” he says meeting your eyes.

“Somehow,” Ava says carefully to Noah, “down in the ruins, you two tied your lives together. That’s why you're still yourself and why they're always freezing cold. Because your body is still down in the ruins and I'm willing to bet it's frozen in the same state since that night.”

“Speak for yourself,” Andy scowls, “I'm not stepping foot in the ruins.”

“Redfield isn't there anymore,” Noah frowns.

“Yeah well,” Andy bites back, “I don't trust you.”

That shuts Noah up.

“And how. . .,” you start to ask as hope fills your chest even as you try to be careful because you saw Noah die and now Ava was bringing you a shot in the dark. “How would that work exactly?”

Ava shrugs. “First we have to go to the ruins. See if I'm right and then-”

“She doesn't know,” Noah states. “But I think it's worth a shot.”

“I'm going to wait with Andy out here,” Dan states, fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat with wire you'd kept since that school year.

“Yeah, sure,” you nod, wrapping him in a quick hug because he probably had the worst time of you all here and yet he'd still come along.

He hugs you back before you make your way to Tom and Ava are both bickering over some obscure text that might or might not be true: Noah sits on the crumbling step that marks the entrance to the ruins, deceivingly calm. It's the first time you've been here since that night.

You remind yourself there's nothing to fear. Just Noah and you're not scared of him.

“Well then,” Tom motions you first.

Noah rolls his eyes, “if I wanted to kill you I could do it without luring you down there.”

Ava twists her mouth, expression furious.

You go to smack his shoulder, your hand passing right through him and hitting the stone wall. “Shit,” you grumble, rubbing your knuckles.

Noah sniggers, not the slightest bit apologetic.

Ava gives you a look that can be best summed up as him?

You shrug. It's not like you planned on being helplessly in love with Noah Marshall, you just were.

Noah goes down first, his form glowing brightly for your benefit, as you follow closely behind him.

Tom and Ava wait a second before following you down. So they were using you as a test.

The ruins are just as dark and awful as you remember. Rocks slick with water that drips down from the roof. You pay close attention where you step, not wanting to break a leg down here, as you enter the chamber where the creature-that-had-been-Jane forced you to play are you scared.

The chairs are still tossed around the room that maybe was a basement once, or maybe it just reminded you of the idea of a basement, but it's the body lying in the floor that takes your breath away. Noah, exactly the way you'd last send him, covered in dirt and grime, absolutely no color in his skin. There was no rise and fall in his chest, and his lips were tinged blue.

Tom shines his light over Noah's prone body. “Well he's definitely preserved, there's no rotting smell.”

“Try not to talk about me like I'm a piece of meat,” Noah says, lingering next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours (or coming close to the feeling).

You look up at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression is carefully blank. You turn to Ava, “what do you need me to do?”

Ava looks from you to Noah, “I'm not sure. There's not exactly an instruction manual but, you should be able to draw him out from the power.”

“Bet that goes both ways,” Noah utters grimly.

Tom nods.

“So I could just as easily get caught up down here?”

Ava nods sternly, “but that's not going to happen.”

Noah looks at you, shaking his head, “we shouldn't risk it.”

“What! No,” you shake your head, feeling warmth in your fingers for the first time in years. You reach for him, not caring that your fingers pass right through. It's the thought that counts and you've had millions of thoughts centered around  Noah.

“What if you end up like me,” Noah says, voice cracking.

You swallow thickly, “you can't think like that.”

“It is a lot to risk,” Tom points out gently.

You bite your lip, eyes tearing up, “I know.”

“Well I'm not,” Noah counters, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes glowing an infernal red as he makes his point. “It's my body after all.”

“Noah-,” you start.

“I'm not risking you.”

Ava fake gags, making you turn towards her, crouched over Noah's body with Tom all while taking down notes. When she knows she has the attention of you both, she smirks, “monster. fucker.”

Noah snorts.

“Don't worry Ava,” you joke, “you're still that very witch.”

“Damn right I am,” she grins.

“Should we. . .,” Tom says, scratching his chin in thought. “They're movies but still. . .”

“Maybe it has to just be them two,” Ava posits at Tom, “like it was last time.”

“Maybe. . .”

“So we’re doing this then?”

Ava's about to say something when she catches the death glare Noah's sending her. “How about you two decide that before we start trying anything.” She drags Tom up the stairs.

“Forget it,” Noah huffs, “I refuse to risk you.”

“I want to!” You cry out, “I want to help you and now I have the chance to.”

“Trust me. You don't want to be a monster.”

“You're not a monster,” you counter, squaring up against Noah.

He scowls before shifting into a mass of shadows, eyes a blazing wildfire burning though acres of bush land. He always had to have the last word.

“You're not a monster,” you repeat, still right by him, whether he was shadows or a specter he was Noah and that was all that mattered to you. “You've never been a monster. You've never hurt anyone. You helped out with the lake ghost. You've kept me company. It doesn't matter what form you take, to me, your Noah Marshall and that's all I really care about.” The tears fall down your cheeks freely now, even as you sniffle, soft smile on your lips as Noah calms down.

Fading from red to white to blue, until he's once more wearing the stupid beanie that you teased him about. Even death couldn't make him give up the beanie.

“You really would, wouldn't you,” he says in awe, “stay. Even if this doesn't work.” As if he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that he was that precious to anyone.

You nod. Not trusting your voice.

There's a tenderness in his expression that fills your chest with warmth as he closes the distance between you, careful, as he presses his insubstantial lips against yours and you've never felt this crazy about anyone before: never felt sure about anything like you know that if someone cracked your chest open, his name would be written on your heart.

You're not scared as darkness blots out the light of the chamber.

Darkness descends until you can't see a thing.

Noah holds your hand as you walk through the cemetery. His thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand as you lead the way to where his tombstone is.

“Your so dumb,” you mutter for the thousandth time. Stacy's mom had graciously helped with spinning the whole Noah's actually alive story, but his mom was long gone leaving behind a tombstone for her two kids.

“It's hilarious,” he says nonchalantly even though you know he fidgeted the whole car drive here.

“Tom said to keep your nose down.”

“Tom has a stick up his ass.”

You smack his shoulder lightly, “be nice. I like Tom.”

“I never said I didn't like Tom,” he frowns, and if you didn't know him as well as you do, you'd believe the serious expression in his furrowed brow.

“You're such a dick,” you shake your head with a laugh.

Noah snorts, “I'm perfectly nice.”

“Who told you that lie!”

He pulls you in close, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, “Lily thinks so.”

“please,” you counter, “if someone asked Lily to help them find their missing puppy she'd help them.”

Noah wags his finger, “now who's being a dick.”

You burst out laughing, still in amazement that Noah was here in the flesh and blood and you were never going to tire of simple things like holding his hand or having his arm around you as you walk.

Neither of you nor Noah were hopeless romantics or sappy people, but having been put through the ringer to so much as kiss, holding hands had become an unspoken agreement when you went grocery shopping or drove over to visit Tom as you finally took him up on the offer to learn how to swim.

You halt in front of his grave.

Noah Marshall.

1999-2018

It's simple. It's impersonal.

You hate it.

Noah doesn't waste a second, opening up the camera app on his phone. and taking a selfy in front of his own tombstone. “Get in the picture!”

You shake your head with a giggle, “okay, okay, just one,” and you snuggle up to him, pulling a funny face as he gets the inscription in the selfy.

“Guess this is goodbye to Westchester then,” he says out loud.

“I guess so,” you nod, peering out into the surrounding woods.

Noah leans in, kissing your cheek, “can't say I'll miss it. Not when I'm taking the best thing in this town with me.”

Your cheeks burn red. But the way the words melt your heart doesn't make you pull a punch. “You're such a nerd beanie boy.”

“Oh shut up,” Noah laughs, pink dusting his cheekbones.

There was no doubt about it. This was love.

[jpegjade]

Void - Spencer

I’ve weighed whether or not to put this one out there. i’ve spent a day just sitting on it, editing, and rewriting some parts. i decided to put this out there bc i realize that i have friends here who go through the same things i do and it might help them. so to all my friends out there, old, new, or the ones i have yet to meet, i’m sorry we’re in this but i’m happy we’re in this together. 

Warnings: Okay so i will say this now and i mean it: if you are struggling with depression and feel uncomfortable during any point in this fic, do. not. read. the. rest. i tried to scale back a little bit bc i wrote it when i was having a really bad time (and probably still having that time rn lmao) so i didn’t include details and it’s a little bit ambiguous but it’s dealing with a hard topic: hopelessness and suicidal ideation. like i said, nothing graphic and no details but it is suggestive and real. so no fluff. 

__________________

The world is such a dark fucking place. There’s nothing good in the world. There’s nothing good for you to experience anymore. The world was a dark, tar colored hell. 

Nothing brought you joy. You could fake it so well on the surface, pretending the world was in color for you. The only colors you experienced were void of emotion, void of feeling, just void. The world around you was void of joy, happiness. There was nothing you wanted more than to escape. Any version of a sweet release would be perfectly fine. Something that you could deal with, some way to deal with the world. 

“Hey.” Spencer said, bringing you out of your thought bubble haze. He walked through the door, gripping his satchel.

“Hmm? Hey baby.” You plastered a fake smile on your face just for him. 

Spencer knew you were going through a rough time but he didn’t know exactly how bad it was. He didn’t know you had written notes for each of your family members and Spencer. He didn’t know that you thought about the easiest way to go, what required the most courage and the least amount of energy. He didn’t know you were scared to leave. 

“You look tired. Have you had a nap today?” He said, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

“No, I’m okay. Just tired in general, I guess.” You said, watching him put his bag down. 

He came over to sit next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. He smelled like fall. You wondered if you would miss that, if you would miss him. Would you miss anything?

“Well, maybe we can relax together? Take a nap, watch a movie?” He looked down at you, stone faced as ever. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You said, staring off into the distance. Everything seemed to be off in the distance for you, all of it. The future, the past, now. It all seemed so far away from you. The world seemed so far away from you. 

“Are you okay? You don’t seem like you’re all the way here.” Spencer said, kissing the top of your head. 

“I’m just tired. Maybe I will take that nap with you.” You put on another fake smile, getting up to get something to drink from the kitchen. Everything was so exhausting, even Spencer. 

You hated that you felt that way. You loved Spencer with every part of you, you never wanted to let him go. But you just wanted to take off, go somewhere, escape. That’s all you thought about: escaping. 

“Hey, y/n? I’m going to get changed out of these clothes.” Spencer called, hoping you heard him. In one ear and out the other, just like everything else he said lately. 

You always felt so bad when it came to Spencer. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t deserve to go through this. You didn’t want him to deal with you anymore but any time you brought it up to him, he promised you weren’t a burden. He always promised you weren’t a burden but you knew, deep down, that he was lying. He was lying to you in exchange for your lies to him, pretending you’re happy when you’re miserable. The two of you were lying to each other and to yourselves. He knew you weren’t okay but wanted to believe otherwise. You knew Spencer was attached to you but you pretended he was detached from your relationship. 

“Baby? Come lay with me?” Spencer called, being needy. You loved when he was needy when you felt well. When you were feeling good, you loved the fact that he was open to show a type of emotion, even after all he went through. 

“Only for a little while.” You called back, downing half a glass of water really quickly. 

You climbed into bed, curling into his lap in bed. He liked when he could hold you just as much as he liked being held. You sat there silently, annoyed with the fact that anyone was touching you right now. All you wanted was to disappear. 

“Can we talk?” Spencer mumbled. 

“Yeah, sure.” You really did try to sound upbeat but in the end, you weren’t able to do it. 

“How are you really doing? And please don’t lie... “ Spencer said, sighing. 

“Spence…” You just wanted everything to go away, just like this conversation. 

“Look, I know I can’t fix this. I have been looking for ways to make this better for you because you are suffering and I see it every day. I can’t… I don’t know how to stop it and I’m scared that you’re going to do something that I really can’t fix.” He said, slowly. 

“There’s no way to stop this.” You said, flatly. “You can’t stop it and neither can I. I’m beyond help. The meds don’t work. The therapy doesn’t work. The coping mechanisms dont fucking work and I’m so damn tired.” You said all that without emotion and it scared Spencer. 

These days, you scared Spencer more than any murderer did. His greatest fear was losing you and he fought to keep his head straight because he knew he had you. All this time, he knew he had you and it was terrifying him to think that you could be gone today, tomorrow, the day after that and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it. Could he?

“You can’t leave… Not like this…” Spencer said, trying to rack his brain of different responses that might help you. He couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t selfish, on his part. 

Everything he had to say was selfish. It was all about how he didn’t want you to go, how he would feel, how he would be affected when you were gone. Everything he thought of was about him and that frustrated him. He just wanted to help you, not try to guilt you into anything by making it about how he feels but… 

“Spencer, there’s no point. Okay? There’s no point in going through the motions anymore. I am in so much pain on the inside, nothing fills it. I am so tired. I feel alone constantly. I feel like there’s nothing left for me here. I am broken. I am broken. I am broken.” You started crying but you weren’t sure why. 

Spencer just pulled you close to him, feeling your body shaking. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or sadness or if you were just cold but your body wasn’t still. 

You tried to get up, get away from him, run, but he held you tighter. You just wanted to get out of that room, get out of your skin, get out of existence but Spencer wouldn’t let you. He just held you close and rubbed your back. 

“I can’t make you stay. I can’t give you this fake positivity. I won’t guilt you into staying. If you want to do this, it’s ultimately up to you. But what I can do is tell you that I love you. I loved you when I got to know you. I love you now. I will love you no matter what you decide to do.” Spencer said. He sounded so fragile, like he was going to break at any moment. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Spence.” You said, numbly. “All I know is that I can’t live like this. I can’t survive like this. I wasn’t built to survive this and I’m so scared of what comes next…” 

There was a silence and you heard Spencer sniffle. He was truly at a loss for words. How could he miss that it was this bad? He was a profiler. He knew that everyone had an end game but he couldn’t tell if your endgame was leaving him or not, leaving this world or not. So he just sniffled and stayed quiet, trying to hold everything back. 

“Spencer?” 

“Hmm?” He responded, nervous. 

“What’s the easiest way to go? I’ve done research but… I wanted to ask my smartass boyfriend.” You chuckled and it turned sour. It wasn’t funny but it was a reflex. 

“Can we please not talk about this? I want to help you get better. I want to use all my energy trying to figure out how to help you feel like living is worth it. I don’t want to think about finding you…” Spencer’s voice caught in his throat. 

“Would you miss me?” You whispered, staring blankly at the wall feet in front of you. 

“Y/n…” Spencer paused. Your automatic thought was that he was going to pull bullshit out of his ass so you could feel better. You sighed, prepared for something generic. 

“You don’t realize the effect you have on people, on me. The world is so dark to you because you are a beacon of light. You are the lighthouse in everyone’s storm. That’s why everyone comes to you, looking for hope. You are a shining light and everyone sees it but you. Your world is dark because you look out and see nothing but the darkness, nothing but the storm.” 

Spencer’s breath wavered and you felt his thumb start moving across your thigh. He was nervous and fidgety, hoping he said the right words. 

“I miss you every moment I leave for work. I miss you on trips. I miss you at the office. I miss you whenever you’re not holding my hand. I miss you when you’re at work, when you can’t talk to me. I miss you. So yes, I would miss you if you weren’t here for me to come home to. And I know that might be comforting for a moment but at the end of the day, it’s not about me. It has never been about me. This is about whether or not you have the will to stay, whether or not you want to be here.” Spencer’s heart raced. 

“I guess you’re right.” You said, growing tired. You had a lot to think about.

[littlebigafterdark]

patton's asthma attack and finally agreeing to try therapy

content warnings: hurt/comfort, detailed description of asthma attack, very brief mention of past eating disorder, crying (i always hav that tho)

i copy pasted this from mine and livs discord convo so thats why it might be formatted weird and i swear a lot also if you see "hhh yeah" then thats liv commenting hshshsh

patton has had a cough the past few days because BASICALY since priscilla (remys cat) visited hes been more breathless with his asthma but he didnt tell anyone bc he doesnt want to worry them or make it so vee never get to see priscilla again if she cant visit anymore

so his asthma is acting up but he ignores it - and hes had asthma cough for a couple days (which is a sign of an incoming asthma attack) but again hes ignoring it, hes so used to brushing off symptoms he doesnt click what it means and he diesn ttake his inhaler when he needs it

WAAAHH oh fuck oh my god oh god wait fuck i just realised

the moment patton gets his asthma attack its saturday afternoon, roman is little and playing with logan and vee isnt quite little yet but fae's on faer way there, fae is very giggly and playful and patton says "okay babygirl, lets go get you changed!"

and when he gets up from the couch he takes a moment to cough and just stand still a sec bc he got suddenly dizzy but he pushed through it to not worry vee, and he actually usually lifts her onto his hip straight away, but this time he very subtly is like "okay hold daddys hand while we walk to the stairs"

so they get to the stairs and patton of course lifts vee up, and theyre only a few steps up when pattons breathing gets really heavy. it makes vee frown and look at him and say "daddy am i heavy?"

and patton smiles and shakes his head, because hes too breathless to speak. but he pushes through and hurries up as fast as possible

once theyre at the top of the stairs, patton is wheezing. his chest is rattling and whistling and he suddenly loses his smile and quickly hurries away from the stairs to place vee gently on the hallway floor, and as soon as vee is safe patton wobbily sinks to his knees and leans his head against the wall. his eyes shut tight trying so so hard to breath but its realy whistly now

and vee of course panics. "dady? papa are you okay??" and whimpers when patton doesnt react and clutches at his chest

and it throws her out of her semi regression. she jumps up and hurries downstairs, a little wobbily but ultimately fine. and she speints to where logan and riman are and yells "daddys h havin a panic attack!" and instantly starts crying

logan and roman were in the middle of a game and smiling and laughing but as SOON as they hear that they jump into action. logan runs out of the room to go to patton and roman grows up and runs to vee and lifts her up to shush her cries and calm her down - they dont even share a single look before they do this, they both just instinctively know what to do

and logan of course finds patton and realises its an asthma attack not a panic attack - he goes into his emergency like emotionless mode where he just gets the job done. he asks clearly where patton keeps his inhaler and patton just shakes his head. so logan alarmed asks "you dont have a reliever inhaler??" and patton winces and shakes his head again.

logan sprints to his room into his bedside drawer to find tthe inhaler he keeps for emergencies double checking it hasnt expired

he sits with his legs around patton, patton leaned back agains his torso, and puffs pattons inhaler for him and times the attack and the puffs (knowing that if it isnt better after ten puffs and fifteen minutes they have to call an ambulance) and using his own deep breaths against pats back to help him recalibrate his breathing

luckily it only lasts 8 and a half minutes and 8 puffs - but logan is so so shaken about the fact that that was very close to requiring medical assistance, he had his ohone out ready to dial 911

once pattons attack is over he's finally breathing, short and deep at first gasping in the oxygen, but within a few more minutes of sitting against logan it slows down and is much calmer. hes very shaky because the reliever inhaler does that to you, and weak from the tax on his body, so logan helps him up into their nearest bedroom (pattons)

at first he calls roman to swap places with him and watch over patton hust so logan can change vee into a diaper since she regressed from fear as soon as roman picked her up and obv he cant change her diaper

so roman sits with patton while logan does that and roman is actually really quiet and awkward and nervous, just looking wide eyed at patton and hugging himself.

and patton feels bad abt that and whispers "its okay little prince, daddys not hurt. im sorry for scaring you, honey" and roman just chews his lip and nods and looks down and they dont talk again until logan is back and roman goes out to take care of vee and logan comes in to lie with patton and rub his chest soothingly

logan is distressed and frustrated and shaken at that point but he knows not to have their conversation until the next day bc patton will be emotionally and physically exhausted

but the next day they have a serious talk - logans pretty ANGRY that patton was so ignorant of his wellbeing that he didnt refill his inhaler, patton brushes it off but logan says its a good thing he secretly kept one for patton (bc he almost suspected this might happen)

it rly hits patton when logan tells him if he had needed anymore puffs than he took they wouldve had to phone an ambulance - like patton not wanting to worry his family by admitting his asthma was acting up backfired way more and has made them worry even more because he had a full attack that could have gone so much worse

the whole conversation is VERY stern and serious even at the start when patton smiles and chuckles and jokes and brushes it off logan just gets frustrated and upset. logan is SO angry literally he is glaring at patton when patton brushes it off and makes jokes abt it and he snaps.

logan actually very seriously tells patton this is self harm and patton goes WHAT nonono no its not i dont know why youre getting so worked up

and logan fucking SNAPS like "Youre not giving your body what it needs to survive because you dont think your worth that!! you're neglecting your basic needs to the point of needing urgent medical care, doesnt that sound familiar??? doesnt that sound like something we've both been through before???" clearly referencing his eating disorder

and pattons eyes go wide and he profusely apologises hes like im so sorry oh my gosh logan honey im sorry did i trigger you im sorry and logans just like STOP APOLOGISING this isnt about me its about you!

and he sso angry bc he thought they trusted each other but the fact that patton didnt tell him when he literally couldnt breathe is so scary to logan

but that is basically an argument bc logan was so fucking worried and devastated that patton has ignored his health to such an extent and vee gets nervous bc both her and roman can hear them yelling and she thinks the cgs will breakup bc they "had a fight"

but once theyre finished talking and vee shakily asks if theyre not gonna be a family anymore they'll of course comfort faer and talk abt it, its not a fight its a disagreement and mummys and daddys have those sometimes. theyre still a family and they still love each other very very much. they all soend their family day together as usual, though patton isnt as able to get up and play with roman understandably

also the fact this all comes around the same week patton and logan tell vee that janus wants to babysit, thats why patton has been absent from the blog recently i guess bc hes been keeping busy trying to work through his feelings of janus wanting to come in

hhh yeah... the way it lines up to patton's other insecurities abt janus coming into the family and it all just piles on too much all at once

so on monday morning logan goes with patton to get more inhalers and they actually stay out for while like they go to a forest or smth just to be alone and help patton recenter a little - he's always loved being in nature, it really brings him a lot of peace, being in nature is really the best way to keep patton grounded from his dissociation, thats why hes always gardening

and logan doesnt want to be angry at him and he knows patton needs support and comfort atm even is patton doesnt think he does so they have a calm day just being together and logan trying to remind patton that hes there for him

HHH stop bc they YEAH bc they kinda had a fight even though it did get 'resolved' but they needed to take time to reconnect their energies and like show each other (and specifically logan show patton) that their love is still secure and their friendship is still strong - just the quiet care of logan taking patton somewhere they can just be alone without responsibilities

secretly patton was rlly upset that logan got angry with him but he didnt show it but logan KNOWS him and he knows he needs to fix it with queality time (pats love lang) because pattons been alone a lot recently, its just been that he keeps busy and accidentaly distanced himself bc the others would all be busy and hanging out in some way and he fet a bit abandoned but yeah logan is dedicating the whole day to him

and patton does end up talking abt his inner turmoil a little but not until theyre like in the middle of the forest and hes a lot calmer and theres no one around, he just feels so much calmer and safer in nature to open up like that.

and this is when patton tells logan about his worries about janus becoming closer to vee, and how its lovely for them but what if it hurts vee, what if they dont get along, what if they DO get along and vee wants to move back with janus. Logan doesnt say anything to the worries, he knows patton just needs to blurt them out while he can, while it mixes with the sounds of nature.

then patton mentions quietly that dr picani phoned him a couple weeks ago and told him that he would like to offer patton a trial session of therapy - not with vee, just patton. logan very calmly asks if that sounds like sometnging that might be helpful for patton and patton just giggles nervously "um i dont know. Vee has therapy"

logan frowns. "yes she does. but that doesnt mean you cant have it too, if you would like it"

patton goes quiet and looks anxious, scratching at the moss on the log theyve sat down on. so logan takes his hand and looks very earnestly at him and says gently "i would like you to at least accept the trial session. It is your decision but... i think it might be worth a try"

patton nods a little, just looking at their intertwined fingers. and after a long silence where they can just hear the birds tweeting and the wind rustling the leaves and small animals scurrying along the grass, patton finally looks up at logan and breathes "i'll go to therapy"

and when patton says that out loud suddenly his eyes well up and he sees logan smile at him - a little sad and a lot proud - and feels his hand squeeze and the tears just dont stop coming and he hides his eyes but laughs nervously like haha dont know why im crying this is so silly! but logan doesnt say anything to it, he just pulls patton into his side and rests his head on pattons head...

and patton keeps trying to laugh and joke but its so choked and sad and nervous and wet and logan wraps his other arm around patton too and just grntly whispers "pumpkin, its okay if youre not happy right now."

and patton just starts sobbing into logans shoulder and logan holds him so tight as they sit on the log

patton cant cope with silence when its about him yknow, he couldnt handle logan not laughing or tutting at his jokes so he just kept joking until logan insisted its ok to be sad

so once they get home logan sits with pstton while he phones dr picani and books his first solo therapy session for friday morning

[kimnjss]

Hobi is fucking annoying me rn. This is actually why I was like yeah I’m not in love with him yet, cuz I just knew a left was coming. AND OH BOY DID IT COME QUICK! Like why didn’t you lead with the I need to sort some things out first? Why are we trying to avoid y/n like that? And the most annoying thing to me is how can you not see that what your doing can be worrying and send the wrong message. He’s getting angry by her acting like any girl would react! Like how hard is it to say on jump “you are making feel things I’ve never felt before and I wanna take some time to sort out my feelings cuz rn I’m confused,” you’re attentions are clear, leaves no room for misunderstanding, and you get the time you need. And I don’t trust Joon’s ass enough to help Hobi when he can’t even help his own relationship. Rn I don’t see anything wrong with what y/n is doing and I don’t see anything wrong with her not pushing back cuz why waste the energy when it seems like Hobi got what he wanted. Quite frankly this is possibly the most messy smau I’ve read, cuz only one couple is doing good the rest of y’all need some milk, therapy, and communication lessons! AND LEAVE JK ALONE I WILL FUCKING DEMOLISH EVERYONE’S LIFELINE I DONT GIVE A FUCK. And that is my Ted Talk☺️.

how smoothly this all would’ve gone if he just said what was on his mind from jump (well, maybe not from jump... don’t think it would’ve been well received minutes after they were sleeping together) buut ., yn would not make it a huge deal - him wanting to take space nd figure out his feelings - honestly ., if he just mentioned that he was unsure ., she would’ve encouraged him to do just that to save from things getting messy in the future . but since he wants to be difficult about it ., she has no choice but to match his energy . //

LMAO namjoon is the WRONG person to be helping hoseok out with hs relationship issues... jeongguk literally has to step in every other week to fix his . he might know what the right thing is to say .,  but how much credibility could he have??

yn nd hoseok weren’t together at all nd with the way he’s acting ., she owes him nothing . she even tried to get him to talk it out nd he didn’t want to so... what else could she do?? she’s not the type to sit around nd cry about it ., you’re not showing interest... neither is she . (i agree ., definitely one of the more messy fics . nd the fact that they hardly talk to each other about real things does not help any of their issus...)