#these match kind of but we will ignore the mess and embrace the green. moment of silence for my ps who had several breakdowns making these

[sweetsouldhavernas]

Tony DiNozzo and Ziva David ↳ UNDER COVERS

[whump-town]

Prof of Law Aaron Hotchner

Warning for violence, stabbing, nightmares, an anxiety attack, and drugs (the prescribed kind)

Aaron Hotchner is a retired Federal Persecutor-- just an AU where Hotch is a law professor for fun and angst!!

Bouncing Jack on his hip, Hotch smiles as he stands over Haley’s shoulder. He pulls his hand back from the cake, wincing when Haley smacks his hand away. She’s a perfectionist and having the smear of his finger through this cake is going to heavily disrupt her otherwise perfect spreading. 

“Oh come on,” he pouts, he turns his body so she can see Jack. “We just want a little,” he attempts. Rousing his son, he jogs the boy up a little more in his arms. “Tell her Jack, tell Mommy, say only a little.” Despite being very much daddy’s little boy, Jack smirks and turns his head away. Giggling and babbling nonsense into his father’s shoulder. Wiping his face on Hotch’s shirt. 

Hotch plays along. “See,” he offers, “just like he said. We only want just a little bit.” 

Haley rolls her eyes, smiling at his antics. She reaches around the cake to the mostly empty tub the icing had come in. “Go,” she instructs, handing it to him. “Get out of my kitchen Aaron Hotchner before I beat you with this spoon.” She searches across the counter for the wooden spoon she’d used to keep the green beans on the oven stirred. 

He smiles and kisses her head, avoiding the spoon when she tries to jab at his side with it. 

As he’s walking away, egging Jack on in his triumph of obtaining the icing, there’s a knock at the door. He’s still talking to the baby, so stepping away from the cake she moves so she can see down the hall from the kitchen. To see if he’s getting the door. “Aaron--”

He steps into the hall and winks at her, “I’ve got the door.” He curses softly, pulling his hand away from Jack’s mouth. He’s swiped a finger into the container before coming to the door. Jack mercilessly chumps down on his fingers and regardless of his absent teeth it still hurts. 

“Hey--” 

Hotch lands flat on his back. The world a dark haze and a strange eerily painful chill in his side. Pain like he’s never felt before. Touching his side, he lifts his head off of the floor and stairs in shock at his hand. The dark, thick crimson of his blood. So much blood. 

“Aaron!? Oh my God!”

 Choking, Hotch tries to move. Mouth open and back arching, he kicks out blindly. The pain creating a black haze around his vision. Coughing and turning his head as he wheezes around the obstruction in his airway, his own blood, he can hear more gunshots.  Jack screams, wailing, and sobbing on in distress. There is one final gunshot and the crying stops. The house falls silent. 

“Jack,” he tries to move but his arms won’t hold his weight. “Jack,” he calls again, panic rising. “Come on, buddy,” he cries. “Where--” blinking the blood from his eyes he looks up and into the face of someone he hasn’t seen in a decade. George Foyet. 

Leaning down, Foyet places his foot against Hotch’s throat. He presses down just enough to cut off the rest of his oxygen, smiling when Hotch uselessly tries to push him away. “Remember me, Aaron? Aaron? Aaron! Aaron--”

“Aaron! Easy, easy.”

He’s in bed. His grey t-shirt slick with his sweat and practically glued to his back. He’s safe. Looking around he can slowly start to piece together where he is. Dave’s house. Well, his house too but it’s Dave’s house.

“Woah,” perched on the corner of his bed is David Rossi. As silly as the older man looks in his matching pajama set (from probably the eighties) Hotch can’t spare the breath to do much more than lean into his embrace. “You’re alright,” Dave assures him, rubbing his back and cupping the back of his head. “Just breath for me kid,” Dave keeps Hotch pulled close, glad that he’s not trying to wrangle away just yet.

“Dave?” Hotch can feel himself shaking, his eyes pinched shut. He’s terrified, honestly. The nightmare had felt so real. So much like the real day. George Foyet had come into his home and-- “I need… Jack?” Hotch pulls away just enough to catch his old mentor’s eyes. Waiting to find the truth there. Because he can’t remember. His brain is split. Had he buried his son that day too? Is Jack… Is Jack dead too?

Dave smiles, it’s sad but it’s not mournful. “He’s sleeping in his bed,” Dave promises. “I checked on him before I came in here.”

Hotch can feel the hitch in his chest as he lets out a relieved breath. “He’s okay?” Hotch asks, he needs the clarification.

Dave nods, “perfectly content.” That’s the easy part about being a baby when the world goes to shit. Jack will never know his mother but he’ll also never have to wake, like his father, in cold sweats shaking from nightmares. Terrified and alone.

“Okay,” Hotch pulls back, scooting back in the bed so he can cross his legs and rest his head in his hands.

Watching him with an air of concern Dave sighs. He looks at the clock and shakes his head. It’s four in the morning and there’s no way that Aaron’s going back to sleep now. “You good,” he asks. As much as he’d like to stick around and make sure Hotch gets back to sleep… that’s futile.

For the last few years, they’ve been working on getting Aaron through the night. Whether it’s nightmares or insomnia he can’t seem to get a break.

Hotch nods with his face covered by his hands.

Dave stands and looks back over his shoulder one more time. “Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“Try and get some more sleep, alright? You can’t afford to lose anymore.”

Hotch doesn’t look up but hums in agreeance. Already he can feel the low throb at the back of his skull. If he starts drinking coffee now maybe he’ll make it through his first few classes without passing out. In the vending machines outside his office, they sell these little bottles of five-hour energy.

He’s a little too old to go chugging those but he’s not going to go canceling his class over a little missed sleep.

It’s been a long time since he even thought about consuming this much coffee.

By six a.m. he’s consumed four cups.

“How long have you been up?”

Hotch blinks sluggishly despite the warm fifth mug of coffee in his hands. “Hmm,” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

Directing Jack down the hall, hand over the boy’s head like a claw, Dave looks Hotch down. His posture is awful, bent over himself, with dark rings under his eyes. “I asked how many cups of coffee you’ve had but I’m afraid I don’t want the answer.” Pushing Jack along, the boy scurries into the kitchen. Buzzing past his father to make a B line for the milk and cereal.

“Don’t spill the milk,” Hotch mumbles, watching Jack fumble with the carton.

It’s been nearly three years since George Foyet’s attack.

The man was released from prison for “good behavior” as young, white men tend to get off. It seemed as if the two young women he’d killed were brought to justice in the ten years he spent in prison. How easy it must have been for the justice system to see the opportunity in a man like him, while ignoring the ones he’d taken. A misguided youth and a tragic backstory only adding to their empathy.

The atrocities he’d committed were not of his own accord, of course not. It’s always so much easier to blame those young women or perhaps his mother. If those girls had not been out so late at night, if they hadn’t worn skirts and frilly tops then he would have never noticed them to begin with. If his birth mother had loved him more...

None of that matters now.

They considered Geroge Foyet “cured” and released him back into society.

Where his first stop was to a library, where he found the address of the man who put in prison. Federal Prosecutor Aaron Hotchner.

This is the part the dreams never get right. Foyet didn’t have a gun. He had a knife. A single pocket knife that he stole from a junkie in an alley. It had been late and Haley had answered the door. Hotch hadn’t even heard her cry out for him. He’d been wrangling Jack out of the tub, the little boy a mess of squirming limbs and very upset with his father for making him take a bath.

They’d been in Jack’s room when Foyet found them.

He’d had his back turned to the door, shushing the crying baby as best as he could while trying to get a diaper around his kicking legs. The first stab had been so quick… by the third he was on his knees and unable to do anything besides keep falling.

On that floor, George Foyet stabbed him six more times. Jack had screamed and cried the entire time. He’d been too young to understand, not even a full year old, but he knew something wasn’t right.

In the dreams, Foyet always kills Jack too. The harsh, overwhelming sound of silence those little cries silenced. There one moment and gone the very next.

He can’t remember much of what happened.

Foyet had moved to Jack, picking the boy up and shushing him. Hotch had watched, immobilized and too weak to even beg for his son to be spared. So he’d watched, choking on his blood, and slowly losing his battle with consciousness as Foyet settled down in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and rocked his son. Soothed him.

A neighbor would walk by and see Haley laying in the hall. The blood…

Hotch had died on the operating table, a fact that Dave would later inform him of. He can’t remember recovery all that well. Clouded with drugs and grief, he… There was once, he remembers this clearly because it had only been a short time after he’d woken up, they’d brought Jack in. Dave and the nurses had been trying everything to calm him but he wasn’t sleeping or eating. He’d cry and cry and cry until he made himself puke or passed out.

The moment they placed Jack in Hotch’s arms, the baby had stilled. His pained cries dying to whimpers as he looked up at his father.

Hotch had been propped up with pillows. Too weak to even lift his own head but they’d stacked pillows around his sides and arms. He couldn’t fight the exhaustion weighing his body down but he clung to Jack. Waking from his sleep in a panic each time, watching the room’s other occupants in case they might try to take Jack from him.

After all the time he’d been nearly unresponsive to them, if having Jack around would keep his heart rate up and his oxygen intake steadily improving no one was going to complain. Several times he woke to his gown being moved so they could place Jack against him. Skin on skin therapy does wonders on humans of all ages. Recovery had been easier with Jack there. The baby stripped to his diaper and nestled against his chest. Little fingers grasping onto him.

It’s been three years and George Foyet follows him everywhere he goes.

“Professor?”

He makes his own lesson plans. He knows which cases come up when. “Who--” he makes the mistake of looking at the screen and his heart stills in his chest. Swallowing thickly around the obstruction in his throat, he looks down to the floor forcing himself to take in a steadying breath. “Who, um, can explain why this case can’t be dismissed on the grounds of Gamble v United States?”

He doesn’t need to call on a student. There’s only about ten kids in the class and it's a ridiculously easy question.

“It’s two separate accounts,” someone speaks up. “Same thing, sure, same crime even but that’s not how double jeopardy works. Besides, you’d want to look more into United States v Felix. Um--” The hard sound of one of the automatically folding chairs shutting in on itself sounds out through the room. “Sir?”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Hotch grips the edge of the desk tighter, his knuckles whitening under the strain. “I’m--” his knees buckle but he forces his weight to his arms. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth. “I’m okay,” he manages.

A student, he can’t tell which one, cautiously approaches his side. “Sir,” he calls. The student, Carter one of his more extroverted and adventurous students, squats down by his side, hand on his back just above his belt. “Not to alarm you,” Carter says, “but I think you’re having an anxiety attack. Do you have any medicine? Is there something we can do?”

Hotch squeezes his eyes shut, trying to work against the tears rapidly falling down his cheek. “My--” he grabs frantically for his tie. The knot against his throat tightening steadily to a noose until he can’t stand it. His hands are too weak to pull the material away but graciously, his useless fingers are pushed aside. Carter undoes the knot quickly and Hotch is suddenly very thankful that Carter’s pompous, cocky agenda brings a tie into his little aesthetic.

“In my office,” Hotch rasps, his hand twisted around his dress shirt. “It’s--” he sinks to the floor, head between his knees. “... a few,” he manages, “in my office.”

Carter turns over his shoulder. “Billy!”

Hotch looks up and watches Billy meagerly rise from where she’s called. Billy, while a great student, is riddled with social anxiety. Despite having taught the young woman all three years he’s been employed at the university she can’t meet his eye when they talk. And she always makes great haste in avoiding him. He’s never bothered to figure out if she’s got issues with authority, a problem with her father, or if she just hates him that much.

Carter turns back to Hotch, surprised by the startlingly vacant look in the man’s eyes. His eyes just watch Billy where she stands anxiously waiting to find out what awful thing she’s going to be asked to do.

“Sir,” Carter shakes Hotch a little. Smiling reassuringly when Hotch’s bloodshot eyes meet his. “I’m going to send Billy to get Professor Prentiss, is that okay? Billy is going to get the professor and we’re going to head to your office, alright?”

Hotch nods.

“Can-Can’t someone else go?”

Carter helps Hotch to his feet, graciously nodding his head to another student who slides under Hotch’s other arm. “No, Billy. Now go.”

Professor Prentiss is a notorious hardass. Her students love her but everyone else is terrified to even cross her path. She’s like a black cat, bound to be bad luck. It did not help Hotch’s already scary demeanor to befriend her. To spot the two of them coming across campus, Emily always professionally dressed in slacks and a dress shirt and Hotch in his standard suit and tie, they’d built a good rapport for being scarily mysterious.

Despite how frequently they could be spotted in the campus café laughing over a cup of coffee. Their human moments always outweigh their harsh ones. In fact, Emily Prentiss has only ever come down on a few students. The ones dumb enough to try and fool her. Hotch has never raised his voice to a student and is surprisingly lenient for a law professor or even just a professor in general.

For goodness sake, Emily stops to talk to the campus cats.

Hotch wears a little beanie with a red knot at the top Professor Garcia made him two Christmas’ ago and spends the spring semester chasing his son around the quad. (Garcia made him the beanie so she could recognize him easier in public. There are way too many tall men in suits around but the red little knot makes him easily detectable)

That’s not to say they’re still not intimidating.

“Pr-Professor Prentiss?”

Turning slowly from her chalkboard, Emily faces the weary voice. First of all, this is a senior advanced level Arabic class so there are only five students present and she knows each and everyone one of them. Well enough to know that whoever just called out her name is not one of her own. Nevermind they never break from Arabic during class time. Under her breath, in Arabic, Emily mumbles, “freshman.”

Yet, the young woman is dressed surprisingly professional.

“What is it,” Emily asks, crossing her arms. She pushes her glasses down her nose, moving the reading frame out of her sight. Looking down the length of her nose, raising an eyebrow at the girl. As if interrupting her class wasn’t bad enough, she’s not trying to waste instruction time on some undergraduate student roaming where she shouldn’t be.

The student steps in a little more, chest heaving, breathless, and looking anywhere but at Emily, stammers her way through an explanation. “Uh,” she wets her lips. “Um, Prof--Professor Hotchner he, um, he was-- he was taking us through, um, a criminal law case and he was…”

The half-amused smirk on Emily’s lips placed there in the humor of what she thought was going to be some silly mistake or a prank from a coworker is wiped away. Penelope has sent mischievous students her way in the past, to knock them down a few pegs or remind them who's in-charge here. Derek’s sent way too many kids over, a whole class once, instead of doing his job. It’s becoming very clear this is not a joke.

Tossing her glasses on her desk, she demands, “where is he?”

The girl takes two steps back, not liking Emily’s shift. “He, um, Carter took him to his office, ma’am. He--”

Emily turns to her students, “class is canceled. I’ll send you a text this afternoon to make up for class.” Then with a nod, takes off up the catwalk, shoes sounding sharply against the tile. “We’ll facetime!” Motioning the girls to follow, “you, with me. Let’s go.”

She sends Dave a text, nothing complex just “Aaron, SOS”.

Hotch’s office is down the same hall as his favorite auditorium to lecture in. She’d bullied him pretty hard upon finding this fact out. It sounded very, very nerdy. And it is. What kind of normal person has a favorite lecture hall? Let alone a favorite room? Just as promised, that’s where he is.

He’s on the floor, stripped of his jacket and his shirt thrown open to reveal his white-shirt. His head is in between his knees and a young man, Carter, Emily presumes, is struggling to open the orange bottle of Valium. People go broke buying the stuff from drug dealers and Hotch will refuse one up until he’s breathless and shaking.

“Get out.”

The boy stops, “what?”

Emily nods her head out the door, “both of you, out.”

They share a look but neither student puts up a fight.

Emily cracks the bottle open with a single twist, pouring a pill out into her hand. The only thing she has around to drink is what looks like either tea or coffee from (nothing him) days ago. He doesn’t use creamer but there’s still probably something toxic in their brewing. “Here,” she kneels down beside him.

He looks up, face broken out in sweat and cheeks flushed, and takes the pill from her palm.

“You okay,” she asks, rubbing his back. She watches her friend carefully, studying him.

He takes a deep breath and holds it, ticking the seconds away in his head. Nodding, he closes his eyes and hangs his head back limply between his knees. He lasts only a moment, eyes flying open she finds nothing but pure terror in his dark eyes.

“Hotch,” she calls, unsure if he’s even here with her right now. “Hotch, calm down. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, “hard to breathe…” His hand comes to his shirt, gripping the white material tightly. “Can’t-- Can’t get enough… not enough air.”

She nods her head, sounds about right. “You’re okay,” she promises. “You’re completely safe right here with me, okay? We’re in your office and you’ve taken a Valium.”

He nods. Right. His office. He can feel the rough mug and smell the old books.

It’s hot. “Off,” he rasps, tugging harshly on his shirt. “Off. I want it--” Too hot and too tight and all over him and--

“Okay,” Emily stops his frantic movements, his hands tearing at his dress shirt. “Okay,” she grabs his left hand by the wrist, easily pulling the shirt off his shoulder and moving his arm out of the fabric. He’s already calming back down, sinking forward as she works his right arm out.

He’d been trapped. Hot and trapped and his brain isn’t working right.

“That’s better,” Emily whispers. She moves closer to him, sitting between his legs and hesitantly pulls him into a hug. He goes where he’s pulled, letting her guide his head to her shoulder.

He sniffles, unable to stop his tears. “He was there,” he whispers. “I saw him.”

She soothes him but she has no idea who or what he’s talking about it. All she knows is that three years ago Dave dragged Hotch here and had a look around. He’d been a mess then. Hair windswept or maybe just unkept and leaning heavily on a cane while Jack had circled them excitedly. She’d shaken his hand and greeted him because Dave is her friend; he'd introduced Aaron as an old friend. He’d looked haggard and disheveled but that hadn’t bothered Emily too much. He’d intrigued her.

Aaron started in an introductory course that fall. Predictably, Dave had allowed him into their trusted group of friends. He’d been removed, at first. Distant and didn’t speak much. Not that he speaks all that much now but it was so much worse back then. Whatever he’d needed that cane for, whatever had driven him from prosecution, whatever had made him a widower and single father that remained his secret. A part of him so guarded only Dave knew and, as she suspected, he would be the only one to ever know.

“Good Lord,” Dave appears in the doorway, shaking his head at the sight before him. “You look like hell.” He leans against the frame of the door, arms crossed. “You know,” he informs them casually. “The two of you have officially ruined your image around here. How’s anyone going to be afraid of you if they walk past this door and see the two of you cuddling on the floor?”

Emily scoffs but doesn’t move away. She keeps moving her hand up and down his back. His breathing has calmed back down but his heart is still racing. “Shut up,” she grumbles. “At least, my reputation isn't being a sleaze bag.”

Dave sucks his teeth, frowning at her. “I am not a sleaze bag,” he defends. He’s not. His reputation for sleeping with the faculty does preside him but it’s horribly honorable that he stays away from the students. They all know coworkers not upholding that standard.

“You okay,” Emily directs her attention back to Hotch. He squirms out of her hold, shakily forcing his feet back under his body and standing.

“Hey,” Garcia knocks on the door and squeezes in beside Rossi. “Everything okay in here?”

Hotch turns his body away from her, scrubbing his face with hands.

“Yeah,” Emily assures her with a smile. It’s obviously not the truth. Hotch is standing in his white undershirt, dress shirt and suit jacket on the floor. His tie not even on the same half of the room. There’s a pill bottle knocked over on his desk and his hair, from what can be seen from the back, is crazy. “We’re good, Pen.”

Garcia nods her head, skeptically. “Okay,” she smiles, eyeing Hotch. He glances over his shoulder at her and she can see his red rimmed eyes and wet face. It’s okay if he doesn’t trust her with this kind of stuff just yet. She understands. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

Hotch nods, “we’ll see you there.” His voice is surprisingly rough but she leaves without comment.

Emily reaches out and squeezes his shoulder. “Why don’t you stay here, alright?” He’s still shaking and looks rather awful. “I’m going to send your class home. Take a nap or something, you look like a train wreck.”

Hotch just hums, lifting his his hands to his face. The feeling of his body is yet to return. His arms don’t even feel connected to his body. Rubbing his hands across his face he can hear Emily and Dave whispering behind him. 

“See you at lunch, Hotch.” Emily says as she steps out of the room. 

Leaving Dave and Hotch. 

“Are you ever going to talk about it?” Dave asks.

Hotch sighs but doesn’t turn to face the man.

“Come on,” Dave sighs. “It’s been years. If you don’t get it out, it’s going to kill you.” 

George Foyet going to kill Aaron. Maybe not today but it’s a matter of time. 

“Not now,” Hotch mumbles, turning his attention to his desk. He brushes the spilled pills into the bottle. Ignoring the careful way Dave regards him. He knows he has to eventually work out these stupid nightmares. It’s one thing to find himself trapped there in that house at night. It’s another when the nightmares work their way into the light. 

“One day then, hmm?”

Hotch freezes, his anxiety sky rockets just thinking about it. They’ll have to institutionalize him first. Drug him up and throw away the key before he finds the words to describe what happened that day. Mentally, he’s not even sure he’s strong enough to think about it for too long. 

Clearing his throat Hotch nods, “right.” He takes a deep breath. Lawyers are blood sucking liars, right? Well, he hopes this once Dave believes his bluff. “One day.”

[jj-5656]

����Fa-la-la-late🎄 With; Diego Hargreeves

A/N:Ummmm...hello? First off, thank you all so much for the love on my last couple imagines. Sorry for the hiatus, what can I say junior year is as hard as they say it is. Anyway, I was supposed to be sleeping last night but I was writing this instead. Leave it to me to become inspired at the worst times. This is for everyone celebrating a holiday this year without your family because of the pandemic (which is still a thing btw.) Also, this is very long but I love it. Okay enough talking, enjoy!

TW: None except...Well, Klaus is Klaus. And more random POV change bc I can!

He’s running, sprinting really, brown bag tucked haphazardly under his arm as it’s contents jostle around inside with his movements. Filled with last minute groceries for the evenings event. Never in Diego Hargreeves’ life had he thought he’d be rushing home in preparations for a Christmas party, in a red sweater for that matter. But what can he say, a year into his relationship with her and he’s officially whipped. Ever since the two of you met you had introduced him to an enormity of things he’d never considered important. Whether it be birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, you’ve added so much more to him that he could never really repay you for. So, he figures making a very last minute trip to the ever so crowded grocery store on Christmas Eve is worth it. Having to deal with other crazed and unprepared city people for three types of cheeses, four types of crackers, and a particularly expensive bottle of wine.

Apparently a Christmas party, or any get together for that matter, is simply incomplete without an assortment of appetizers. Right, Diego Hargreeves hosting a Christmas party for his siblings. The same ones who only learned about holidays in their World Culture textbooks during hours sectioned off on their daily regimen instead of actually celebrating them. The biting cold reminds him of the lonely Christmas’ throughout his life, which was at the time any other day of the year to him. He snaps out of the dark thoughts when he realizes he’s made it up the stairs and to the front door, a chorus of clanging pots and curses coming from inside.

He fumbles through the door, reminding himself he’s supposed to be rushing, but the beautifully decorated apartment distracts him from the task at hand. The warm feeling he’s still getting used to fluttering through his stomach as he recalls when you first surprised him with the holiday decor.

“It’s not too much, right? I know you never really celebrated Christmas, and neither of us are religious but my family always made the holidays a big deal and I thought-”

“You did all this?” His brown eyes are wide, gazing up at the assortment of twinkling lights aligning the interior of your shared home, a beautiful tree full of red and green ornaments in the middle of your living room. It’s stunning, to say the least, and Diego’s sure he’s never felt so much at home as he does now.

You’re gazing up at him, eyes nervously darting between your boyfriend and the assortment of ornaments. He walks forward from the entryway to admire the garland above the fireplace and the evergreen that just barely scruffs the top of the ceiling. It’s all new to him, and a bit overwhelming, and suddenly Diego realizes the resentment he’s held toward the holiday ever since he was a child was completely misguided. Because the joy he feels now, the warmth tingling throughout his body is foreign but so comforting.

“You hate it, don’t you? Listen, I just thought maybe I’d try and show you Christmas isn’t all about consumerism and selling shitty-”

“It’s beautiful.” He interrupts again, and you swear there’s a moisture begging to leave his eyes as he finally looks to you with an awed expression.

“I don’t, I’ve never...I always hated Christmas. I guess because I never had a real family as a kid. But this, this is j-just...Thank you.”

*End Flashback*

“You’re late!” You shout as the front door bursts open, a familiar thud of boots kicking snow off their bottoms and then walking towards the kitchen. Diego walks in with hands full with groceries, hair wet and messy with flurries of snow littering the raven strands. You narrow your eyes at the sight of him, dopey smile on his face as he sets the bags down on the counter.

“What’s gotten into you? I thought you’d still be grumpy at the fact that we’re hosting.” You’re less than presentable at the moment, having been cooking all day and leaving getting yourself ready for last minute. You puff a stray hair out of your face as he responds.

“Nothing, and actually I am still upset that my siblings are coming over.” He leans against the counter as you unpack the groceries, eager to finish up so you can look a little less crazy when the remaining Hargreeves arrive. Diego is still staring at you, grinning fondly at how flustered you look. And although he’d rather not have you meet his brothers and sister, you deserve to know why he’s keeping you from meeting. After all, it’s been a year since you’ve been together, and he’s met your family already.

It’s different though, because although they too have their issues, your family isn’t a dysfunctional pack of emotionally-stunted freaks. He’d much rather protect you from their intrusive antics. The warm feeling fades as he realizes what’s to come. He appreciates your optimism, truly, but he suddenly can’t shake the feeling that they’ll manage to upset you and ultimately screw up what you’ve been preparing for all day.

“A little help please?” You ground him once more, gesturing to the bags beside the both of you and the assortment of trays of food on the counters. Diego grabs onto your sides when you try to brush past him to check on the turkey, ignoring your incredulous look as he presses his body against yours.

“There’s still time to call this all off, you know. We can watch all the cheesy Christmas movies you want, and have dinner all to ourselves.” His eyes are hopefully looking into yours, the persuasion in his tone hinting a part of him isn’t really joking.

“Absolutely not. Di, we’ve been together for a year now. I want to get to know your siblings. Besides, you met my family and they loved you!”

“That’s different y/n, you’re family is...Well, they’re not like mine! You guys are normal! My brother is a moon-obsessed, half monkey moron and my sister is a mind-controlling movie star.” You can’t help but giggle at his words even though his frustration is adamant. He backs away from your embrace and runs his a hand through his hair in an effort to calm himself down. The sudden thought of one of them being too pushy or making you upset is overwhelming him now. If it’s one thing he’d like to keep you from, it’s the bad side of him his siblings tend to bring out.

“Diego.” Your voice is soft now, you’re using that love-laced tone that always makes him feel like he’s melting. He shivers as you get closer to him, still somehow getting used to the effect you have on him. And although you don’t notice, you seem to be aware you’re calming him down. “I’m scared too, I don’t want to mess something up or embarrass myself in front of them. Hell, your little-or...Older brother is a time traveling assassin who’s kind of a genius. It’s intimidating definitely, but they’re your family Di. I know you hate to admit it, but they’ve played a huge role in who you are. And even if a lot of times you resent each other, it’s clear you love them.”

He’s gotta admit, you’ve always had a way with words. “Fine, what can I do to help beautiful?”

“you can start with setting the table so I can get ready and actually look beautiful. And use the good China!” You plant a quick kiss to his cheek before rushing off to the bedroom, silently praying the anxious won’t drop a plate or two in the process.

****************************

“Baby, does red or white wine go with tur-woah.” You’re doing some finishing touches on your makeup when Diego walks in, honey brown eyes shamelessly looking over your figure with a smirk as he now leans against the door frame.

You roll you eyes at his ogling, but can’t help smoothing down the silky olive green fabric of the dress your wearing with a pleased smile. Gold jewelry adorns your neck and ears, with matching gold heels to bring the look together. The red of his sweater (he so stubbornly obliged to wearing) compliments the green you're wearing beautifully. A year ago, Diego wonders just how much it would take him to put on anything other than black.

“Cmon, they’ll be here any minute.”

As if I’m cue, the doorbell of the apartment rings. You rush to the front door, Diego trailing behind as he reminds himself how important the evening is to you.

“And remember, no knives.” You whisper to him, turning back around and opening the door.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten!” Klaus pushes through the entryway excitedly, tackling you in a hug in greeting. Luckily, you’ve already met the most eccentric sibling of the bunch. As he often crashes at your place, much to Diego’s disliking (or so he says).

“My my my, that dress is to die for! I’ll be borrowing that soon. And those heels! Please tell me we’re the same siz-”

“Alright bonehead, you can steal her stuff later. Take yourself and the booze to the kitchen.” Diego interrupts, shrugging when you slap his shoulder at his bluntness.

Greeting the rest of the family goes better than expected. Allison and Luther arrived together (an innocent carpool of course) whilst Vanya had come just a few minutes after Klaus, happy to see she wasn’t the first to arrive. She brought along with her a homemade dish, Allison with a top notch bottle of champagne, and Five with a box of Griddy’s  donuts and...Coffee? His odd choice of food making the perfect ice breaker, to his confusion of course. 

“Alright, enough small talk. Diego, how much are you paying this lovely lady to pretend to be your girlfriend?” Klaus interjects your conversation about current events as the rest of the table looks to the pair of you and laughs. 

“Seriously, Allison couldn’t even rumor someone to be this good of a cook,” Luther chimes in. Not having looked up from his plate for a majority of the meal.

Although slightly offended, Diego realizes his siblings have a valid point. You’re blushing crimson as you laugh along, shaking your head and nervously rambling on about when you just last week almost burnt the apartment down trying to perfect said recipes. He’s entranced as you speak, admiring the way you seem to capture all of them with unknown ease. Unknown, truly, because you’re still too modest to see how perfect you are. He doesn’t deserve you, but he’ll spend every day trying to even out the impossible score. It's known he can be quite the competitor. 

“I’m just shocked he’s out of black for once.”

“Says the 45 year old in a school uniform!”

                                          **********************

“Alright, I’ll clear up dinner so we can start dessert.” Y/n announces, just in time to halt a three-way argument between her boyfriend, Luther and Five about some Academy mission from when they were kids. The evening has been lighthearted for the most part, with a majority of the conflict being steered off by Allison or Vanya. The two practically experts at distracting their egotistical brothers. You catch on as they do so, the three of you having shared a few sly smirks between one another a few times throughout the meal. 

“Please y/n, let me. You’ve done more than enough tonight. Besides, I need someone to test out that wine for me.” Allison assures, kicking Diego’s shin and motioning to the kitchen when you’ve given her an appreciative smile and inquired Vanya on her violin skills. 

Allison’s knife wielding brother shoots her a look of shock at her actions, trailing along confusedly after her. Your empty plate and his own in hand as he sets them down in the sink. 

“What the hell? Why-where-you-hiding-her-from-us!) The curly haired woman emphasizes each word with a smack of a stray dish towel to his arm, sure nobody can hear them over Klaus’ obnoxious storytelling back in the dining room. 

“Quit it! I wasn’t hiding her I-I was protecting her from you shitheads.” Diego defends, once again bewildered by his sister’s playful outburst. 

“Diego! She’s amazing, you should’ve introduced us forever ago.” 

“Right, she’s amazing. What do you not get by the word protecting? If you all had met her any sooner you would have scared her off!” He flails his arms as he speaks, unaware of his flushed cheeks as his sister smiles fondly at him. 

“What now Allison?”

“You loooveee her.” She poke his side as she teases, chuckling again when he swats her arm away. The scene is childish, but something about the heat rising through his neck to the tips of his ears makes Diego feel like a kid again. Allison teasing him about girls, just as they had when they were young. 

“Wh-whatever. Yeah, I love her. Can we go back to the table now, or should we paint our nails and giggle about how totes adorbs Luther Looks in that coat?” They both laugh at his mocking, leaving the room and too giddy to remember the discarded plates left behind. 

                                      ***********************

“An espresso machine? Wow, Columbia-brewed K-cups too! You shouldn’t have y/n.” Five is beaming at the gift in hand, wrapping paper still hanging off the side of the box as he admires the machine. His siblings stare confusedly at his jolly demeanor, and he immediately clears his throat before giving said girl a curt nod. “Thanks.” He deadpans, and you laugh with a nod at his change in demeanor. 

Luther and Allison have already opened their gifts, the burly man pointing to his miniature moon replica and lecturing about the craters and valleys to an extremely bored Klaus. Allison has already put on the elegant gold charm bracelet you’ve given her, rolling charm with Claire’s initials and birthstone on it with glossy eyes. Beside her, Vanya delicately peels the wrapping off to a freshly polished violin case, her name inscribed in cursive on the top. 

“It’s beautiful. I-I’m so sorry we didn’t get you anything. If I had known-”

“Nonsense V, I’m just glad you could all make it tonight.” You reassure with genuine smile, glad to see her positive response to the nickname. 

“I still can’t believe you got them gifts.” Diego mumbles from behind you, having climbed over the back of the couch you’re all sat on to have you sit between his legs. He kisses your temple and wraps his arms around your middle, softly humming when yo lean into him. The fireplace is crackling, and the record payer you love dearly quietly plays a Perry Como Christmas album. You close your eyes, taking in the warm feeling and relaxing in Diego’s touch. The two of you jumping when a shout comes from beside you.

“My turn! My turn!” Klaus claps loudly to grab your attention. You chuckle at his childish ways, leaning down to pick up the wrapped present at your feet and handing it off to him. Unlike the others, he eagerly rips apart the wrapping, gasping dramatically when he lifts up the skirt. 

“You’re a bit hard to shop for, there’s a gift receipt if-” The excitable man scrambles up from the floor tug on the fabric, twirling around in it in a fit of giggles before you can finish your statement. 

“Great, he’ll never take that off.” Diego mumbles in your ear, you shake your head with a smirk at his teasing before you’re reminded of something.

“Oh! And one more thing.” You note suddenly, climbing out of Diego’s hold as he huffs reluctantly. You pull a a final present from under the tree, secretly handing it to Klaus to make sure the others don’t see. Though they’re too enveloped in conversation to noticed.

“Another one for me?” He whispers happily, eyes furrowing when you shake your head. Sitting back down in Diego’s arms before you explain. 

“No, well...Yes, sort of. You’ll see.” You ramble, gesturing to the box in his hands as he apprehensively chuckles. You feel Diego’s eyes on you, deciding to place a peck on his jaw instead of elaborating. 

Klaus pulls out a pair of books, readig the well-known titles before looking up at you. You motion to the box once more, biting your nail as he sets them aside and reaches in once more. He pulls out  picture frame with a sharp intake of breathe, hand going over his mouth as he looks up at you once more. Your boyfriend, eager to see what has silenced his rowdy brother, takes the frame to inspect it. 

It’s a picture of him, Klaus, and Ben on the front steps of the academy. Having to be only five or six in the photo. Klaus has an arm around Ben, smiling big for the camera as his brother offers a smaller, but no less genuine grin to the lens. Diego sits a step above them, mouth frozen open in a laugh as he must of been reaction to something only Klaus could make him react so much at. 

“I remember Di telling me Ben read a lot. And...Well, it felt wrong to get everyone else a gift but him. Those are two of my favorit-”

“Wh-Where did you find this?” Diego whispers, arms encircled even tighter around you as he holds up the frame in shock. 

“When we were moving in. I found it at the bottom of one of the shelves at your room at the gym. It was under a bunch of old books you had, I figured it could use a frame.” Just as you finish, Klaus practically tackles you in a hug, a soft hiccup coming from him when he pulls away. 

“Geez Klaus, it’s just a skirt!” 

“Can-it Luther!”

                                     *************************

“You think he’ll be alright?” You mutter from the bedroom hallway. You and Diego leaning against the wall, looking at Klaus whose passed out on the sofa. The others having left hours ago, but you simply couldn’t wake him at seeing how peaceful he was. The picture frame still tucked to his chest as he snored softly. 

“Trust me, he’s fine. I think he’ll be sleeping in that skirt every night from now on.” Diego pulls you to your bedroom door as you laugh, the exhaustion from today finally setting. 

“Hey, would you look at that? Mistletoe.” Your head trails upwards to gaze up at the fruit being dangled above your head as you grin.

“Those are grapes Di.”

“Are they? Hmm, must be from that stupid cheese board I had to run across town for.” 

“It’s a chacuterie, actually. Didn’t you learn French Hargreeves?”

“Yep, but I only seem to remember two words.”

“Oh really? And what might those be?”

“Embrasse moi” He finishes as he connects his lips with yours, holding your face as if you might slip away when he lets go. 

“Smooth, knife boy.” You pull away softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Merry Christmas Di.”

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - Part 1

Heyyyy here is the first part! 

So there’s a little bit of violence, but it’s just the beginning 😇

Hope you enjoy!

Masterlist 

Prologue 

Almost five years later

“Y/N what the hell are you doing?”

Fred was calling for me from downstairs. I was still in Ginny’s room, frantically looking for my green sweater. I couldn’t go to the Quidditch World Cup and support my favourite team without my green sweater. No, impossible. But a loud sigh escaped my lips when I finally saw it folded on a chair behind me. I quickly slipped into it and managed to store the room, because it was a mess. Soon Fred barged in and, without a word, dragged me in the kitchen where George, Arthur, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were already eating their breakfast. Molly was nowhere to be seen. Some groans welcomed me. Obviously, everyone was a bit tired. Well, I was too, because barely four hours of sleep weren’t enough for me, but the excitement I was feeling helped me staying perfectly awake. Glancing at Fred, I noticed his ruffled hair and almost closed eyes. He seemed to be exhausted too. 

That wasn’t a surprise: I had stayed in the living-room with Fred and George after everyone went to sleep. We had discussed about the winners of the finale of the World Cup: we happened to be all sure the Irish team would win. However, the twins were sure Viktor Krum, the bulgarian seeker, would catch the Golden Snitch. “Impossible.” I had answered. “Aidan Lynch is way too skilled.”  A playful argument had started, only interrupted by Molly who wanted us to go to sleep. 

A few hours later, we were on the verge of leaving when Molly caught George trying to hide some Ton-Tongue Toffees. Here we are. Three seconds later, a true explosion shook the house and I escaped the infuriated woman by following Ginny. 

“Unbelievable…” I murmured. “I told them not to take the Toffees. And did they listen? Of course not.”

“What did you expect from them?” answered Ginny. “I thought you knew them better than that. They only do what Mum doesn’t want them to.”

“I swear they are driving me crazy.” I said while looking them passing in front of me and ignoring me. The poor boys were upset because I had left them alone in front of their mother.

“I think Fred is driving you crazy more than George. Am I wrong?”

“Of course you’re wrong.” I answered with a nonchalant tone. 

I needed all my will to hide the blush on my cheeks and Ginny’s knowing look didn’t help. Instead of facing the imminent threat of revealing my secret to my crush’s sister, I accelerated and slightly pushed the boys to make some room between them. 

“Here’s the quitter.” mumbled George. 

“Ooh,” I mocked. “Mummy did really scare you as it seems. You wanted me to wet my pants with you so that you would look less childish?”

George rolled his eyes and Fred chuckled. I eyed him suspiciously.

“You seem way too happy for someone who just lost all opportunity to gain money. What are you hiding from me?”

“You know me too well, dear Y/N. But why would we trust you with something as important as this?”

I pretended to think about the answer. 

“Because despite what you say, I know you both love me and I’ve kept plenty of terrible secrets for you in five years of school.”

“True enough.”

Fred managed to show me the content of his bag without Arthur seeing anything. I was so absorbed by my conversation with Fred (at some point, George had sped up and joined Harry and Ron) that I didn’t realize everyone in front of us had stopped on the top of a hill. 

“The portkey shouldn’t be far from here!” shouted Arthur. 

We separated and I found myself next to George. We almost had the nose in the grass as we didn’t even know what it would be like. Something suddenly landed on my back and George coughed, as if he wanted to hide a laugh. I turned around and saw Fred, a few meters away from me. His hand was above his eyes like someone who had just aimed right and he was smiling goofily. Then my eyes fell on the old dirty boot and I screamed.

“You’re gross Fred!”

George couldn’t hide his laugh anymore and soon his twin and I joined him. Maybe it was the fatigue, fact is that we were still crying and holding our ribs five minutes later, when the rest of the Weasley family, Harry, Hermione and the Diggorys finally understood something was up with us. 

“Good, you’ve found the portkey!”

“Merlin, how could Lynch be so stupid?” 

I wiped away another tear as we gathered around the shoe. From the corner of the eye I saw Fred wiggling his eyebrows to me the exact moment I put my hand on the boot and my chuckle drowned into the hissing of the wind carrying us to the world cup. 

_ _ _

I was struggling to stay behind the twins as we were slowly downing the bleachers stairs to join our tents. The match had just finished and, as hard as it was to admit, these two idiots were right. Krum had caught the snitch. Even if their long ginger hair were the only thing of them I could see - and it was quite practical, or else I would have been lost in the crowd in no time - I knew they were making fun of me while I was grumbling. 

“I mean, the first time, okay. But doing the same error a second time?”

“Maybe he had drunk too much butterbeer before…” said George. 

“Or maybe he was distracted by the Veelas. I mean, have you seen them?” added Fred.

I had just arrived between them but I was too busy being jealous and slightly hurt to catch the playful look in his eyes. 

“Fact is that you’ve lost your bet, dear Y/N.” continued George. 

“What will be our reward?” Fred’s voice was teasing.

“Nothing. We didn’t bet anything.”

My voice came a bit more harsh than expected. I decided to avoid any question and quickened my pace to join Hermione and Ginny. The latter sent me a questioning look but by the time she knew better than just ask me what was wrong when I was upset. Plus… how could I admit I was jealous of a few Veelas just because Fred thought they were pretty? It was a very girly problem and I had never been like that. The only girly thing in me was my mother’s necklace. It had never left my neck in five years. Never. 

“Y/N?”

I jumped, not because of Fred’s voice but because of the sudden touch of his hand. I quickly composed myself before giving him a convincing smile, or so I hoped. 

“Yeah?”

“What was that earlier?”

“Nothing, guess I’m a bit tired.”

The sun was slowly rising in the sky as we were making our way back to the Burrow. The eventful night had left my muscles sore and I hadn’t slept more than an hour. My brain was full of what had happened earlier, bad things like good. We had been sleeping for roughly an hour when Arthur had called for us. The camping was being destroyed by masked persons and a true chaos was reigning. Without losing a second, George had grabbed Ginny’s hand, Fred had grabbed mine, and we had run toward the forest at the entrance of the camping. As soon as we had arrived under the protection of the trees, Fred had wrapped me in a relieved embrace and I had felt like nothing could ever happen to me. Above his shoulder, where my head was resting, I had seen Ginny’s smirk and, slightly panicked, I had pulled him, pretending to be looking for the others. We had waited for them for what had felt like hours before finally joining our tents to try to get some sleep. It seemed like no one had succeeded because right now, as we were walking down the hill near the Burrow, I was pretty sure we were looking like a bunch of Inferi. 

He frowned and I saw he was on the verge of saying something, probably not to take him for an idiot and tell him why I had snapped like that, but I anticipated and lightly kissed his cheek before fleeing in the tent, my bright red cheeks matching his without any of us knowing. 

_ _ _

A worried sick Molly welcomed us and as Arthur was reassuring her and Ginny was preparing some tea, I let myself fall on the couch and closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I felt a weight next to me and I knew who it was. I rested my head on Fred’s shoulder and he wrapped his arm around mine. 

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” 

His voice was hoarse, like always when he was tired. I loved hearing him talking when his voice was like this, it happened often at Hogwarts when we sneaked out the common room with George and sometimes Lee. It also happened each time I spent holidays at the Burrow. 

“Why would you be sorry?”

“I’ve thought about it all night.” I lifted my head and looked at him, surprised. He was deadly serious and I couldn’t help but think he was really cute when he had this tired yet determined expression. “I said something that upsetted you, and I’m sorry. You know, you don’t need to be a Veela to be pretty, Y/N.”

Honestly, dying on the spot would have been less embarrassing than stuttering like an idiot while all the blood of my body was rushing in my cheeks. I definitely felt like fainting when he kissed my forehead.

“Everyone in bed! Come on, you all need to rest!”

Molly, who had gained back her strict-mother-self, literally saved my life as she clapped her hands behind us. The little bubble around Fred and I suddenly disappeared and we both jumped on our feet. Fred almost ran to George and I quickly followed Ginny, hissing in passage that she better had to shut up. Obviously, Ginny was not the kind of girl that shuts up whenever something happens in front of her and this time wasn’t exception. 

“I knew it!” she exclaimed as soon as the door was closed. “You like my brother! I knew it!”

“Ginny, don’t talk that loud please! He could hear you!”

“Y/N, dear, you have to wake up.” Someone whispered in my ear. “Y/N, your father is here.”

The little demon stayed totally indifferent as I begged her. She was gloating, probably imagining a world where she would be surrounded by plenty of babies looking like Fred and I. I sighed and laid in my bed, deciding I didn’t want to hear her babbling about my possible future relationship with him.

_ _ _

It was enough to wake me up. In fact, I sat so fast that my head almost bumped in Molly’s one. The room was dark as Ginny had closed the curtains, and filled with loud snores. Molly sent me a little smile to show me she was sorry even though she didn’t specify why she was. I doubted it was because she had woken me up in the middle of a really needed sleep. No, she knew about the kind of relationship I had with my father. In fact, it wasn’t difficult to figure it out: I knew I had the habit to frown each time someone mentioned him near me, and since my first year at Hogwarts, I had always done everything in my power to avoid the holidays with him. But no one knew who he was really. No one knew about his crisis, about the nights he yelled on Mary or on me for whatever reason, about the evenings I knew I shouldn’t approach him because a glass of whiskey accompanied him. No one, not even Fred and George. 

I quickly gathered my things and got out of the room as quietly as possible. I followed Molly, dodging the squealing steps as naturally as her. When we arrived in the living-room, I saw my father waiting for me in front of the door. He was nervously pacing and regularly passing an hand in his short salt-and-pepper hair. I had rarely seen this tension in his body. He wasn’t the kind of man who lost easily his calm, not in public anyway, and certainly not the kind to show fear.

“You’re here. Come on, we don’t have all day.”

His voice snapped like a whip. His piercing blue eyes landed on me, and an imperceptible move of his eyebrow convinced me I should obey. I threw a little smile to Molly, who was watching my father with her lips pursed, and quickly followed him. As soon as we stepped in the neglected garden, he grabbed my wrist and we apparated in front of the manor. 

The thickets hadn’t been trimmed in years, neither had been the trees. The marble statues, once magnificent, were now nothing more than the vestiges of the past splendour of the mansion. The path leading to the door was invaded by weeds and grass and some slabs were broken. The imposant white building in front of us was giving an impression of coldness that had taken over the place since the day my mother had died. 

The heavy wooden door closed loudly behind me and I turned just in time to see Mary fleeing in a corridor that leaded to the kitchen, her head down. I briefly wondered why she acted like this and why she didn’t even look at me before my name echoed in the main corridor in front of me. 

“Y/N, move!”

I dropped my things, knowing that Mary would appear to get them to my room, and followed my father. I found him in the huge dining room, standing straight in front of the fireplace. All I could see was his back but I didn’t dare to approach and see his facial expression. 

“You were at the world cup.”

It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t answer. He knew perfectly why I had insisted to go to the Weasleys earlier this summer. 

“Did you see the attack?”

He suddenly turned toward me and I couldn’t help but take a few steps backward. His eyes were round and looked like they would leave their orbit. A vein was palpitating in his neck and he was compulsively tightening his wrist. I nodded, my throat too dry to let me say anything. 

“Tell me. Everything. Now!” He yelled when I didn’t answer. 

I began to tell him everything I remembered, which in fact wasn’t a lot. I told him about the masked persons, the fire, how much they had loved humiliating these muggles. I added timidly Arthur had warned us they were Death Eaters and an heavy silence took place. My father was pacing in front of the chimney. He was mumbling so low I didn’t understand one word, and he seemed to have totally forgotten I was here. I didn’t move, though, too afraid he still needed me. He was in a nervous state I couldn’t even suspect and my worried eyes were fixed on his wand, firmly held in his hand. 

“In your room.”

I didn’t lose time and almost ran toward my room. Surprisingly, my bags were on the floor in front of my door. Usually, Mary would at least put them in the room. The feeling that something was wrong crept in me and I stayed unable to forget it. When diner finally came, I headed directly in the kitchen. When she saw me, Mary found a sudden interest in the first pan she could grab and royally ignored me when I asked her what was wrong. I sighed and took the plate of sandwiches she had let on the table. I would eat alone in my room, and I couldn’t help but feel sad when I imagined the table of the Burrow’s kitchen, animated and surrounded by people I loved like my family. 

Each day until the first of september was exactly the same as this one. My father had never talked to me that much, only because he seemed obsessed with what had happened at the world cup. I noticed he received more visits than usual but he had made me understand I wasn’t welcome when it happened. Mary also ignored me, which was what worried me the most. I only understood why the day before my departure. 

I was looking for the Weasley sweater Molly had knitted me the previous year. I had forgotten it when I had packed my things the first time and I wanted to ask Mary if she had seen it. I went in the kitchen first: it was empty. I was going to go in the lavery when shouts echoed from the dining room. I tiptoed and hid behind the door. 

“I forbid you to tell anything.” My father’s voice was colder than I had even heard it and I shivered when I imagined Mary cowering in front of him. “From now on, you haven’t seen anything. You don’t know anything. You better have kept your mouth shut, and you better continue. Am I clear?” A silence, followed by a weak squeal. “Am I clear?”

“Yes…” Mary answered in a sob. 

I decided to see what was happening and slightly opened the door, just enough for me to see the scene. Mary was in front of my father, she was on her knees. He was tightening his wrist in the same compulsive movement I had seen before and his eyes were throwing lightnings. He gave his back to Mary and was ready to leave by the other door when she mumbled something. If I didn’t hear, my father obviously did and he turned vividly toward her. 

“What did you just say?” He yelled. 

“I said you must be terrified.” I couldn’t see her face, but I pictured myself an insane expression on it. “After all, you’ve crawled at the Ministry's feet when -”

I hadn’t closed my eyes in the last 24 hours. Even though staying impassive in front of my father had been mentally exhausting, I feared the flash of green light would appear behind my closed eyelids if I slept. The noise in the Hogwarts Express helped me staying awake. The problem? I had to face Fred and George’s questions. 

She never ended her sentence. A green lightning enlightened everything and Mary’s body fell lifeless on the floor. 

_ _ _

They had wanted to know why I had left so quickly, of course, but as soon as they had realized I wasn’t in my normal state, they had also wanted to know what was bothering me. 

“Come on Y/N, you know you can tell us everything, right?” had pleaded Fred. 

But I had stayed resolutely silent, dreading the tears that would surely come as soon as I would open my mouth. Somewhere in the middle of the travel, they had given up, but I had noticed how they tried to make sure that one of them was always with me and how they kept an eye on me. 

The feast passed in a blur, and so did the first week at Hogwarts. Everyone had noticed I wasn’t my normal self, but even Professor McGonagall hadn’t been able to make me spill the bean. I had received plenty of letters from Molly, and even one from my father. However, it was really short; in fact, what he had to say was expressed in one sentence: Stop whatever you’re doing. He was probably afraid someone would find out about Mary. 

Deep down, I knew I would give up one day or another. I knew the twins could be really persuasive, and I could feel the weight of what I had witnessed slowly crushing me. I just didn’t think it would be in the middle of the Charms class. 

Indeed, it was always a very animated class, very favourable to discussions. After a few failed attempts to know why I was acting so weird, Fred and George decided to give me space and began to chat with Lee and Angelina. I tried not to listen to what they were saying but they were sitting just next to me and a few words inevitably arrived to my ears. 

“No George, I’ve told you not to cover me in ink and you still did so, I won’t help you with this essay!” exclaimed Angie. “Fred, drop this stupid look right now, you won’t tenderize me with these goo goo eyes of yours!” 

“Come on Angelina, what could we do to be forgiven?” asked Fred. 

“Do you want us to crawl at your feet?” added George. 

Angelina’s answer wasn’t what I heard. 

After all, you’ve crawled at the Ministry's feet… The green flash… You haven’t seen anything. You don’t know anything. Am I clear? Yes… Sobs… Y/N? Y/N? 

“Y/N!” 

I suddenly became aware of the gazes on me. The class was obviously over and the only persons present were gathered around me. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were here, the latter obviously warned by Professor Flitwick who was still panting. Fred and George were sitting at each of my sides, both holding tightly my shoulders. Fred’s fingers were slightly sinking in my flesh and this detail helped me coming back to my senses. 

“Y/N do you hear me?”asked Fred with a strong voice. 

A relieved sigh escaped everyone’s mouth as soon as I nodded. It was a weak movement but it seemed to be the first in a certain time. 

“What happened?” 

I feared no one had heard me as my voice was quieter than a whisper but Fred answered, because he had heard or just because he knew I would ask that. 

“You froze, Y/N. You didn’t react when we called you…”

“You seemed terrified.” finished George. 

Tears immediately pooled in my eyes as I remembered what I had heard. I understood I would have to say something. The weight had become too heavy for me. However, murderer or not, this man was still my father. What would happen if someone knew what he had done? He was a respected member of the Ministry of Magic, he was moving in its highest circles. Would he have troubles? No matter what he had done to me, I just couldn’t bring him troubles like this. Plus, would he hesitate to make me suffer the same treatment as Mary? 

“Y/N, now you have to tell us. I won’t let you the choice.” warned Fred.

His serious voice let me know he wasn’t kidding. 

“Not now.” I managed to say. “Too tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, and as if my body wanted to prove my point, I yawned extensively and my eyes almost closed by themselves. I barely heard Professor McGonagall asking Fred to bring me back to the common room and allowing him and his twin to stay with me for the day. 

I woke up after a needed rest in the middle of the afternoon. I was curled up in a tight ball on the Gryffindor common room couch. Fred and George were both sitting on another one next to mine, and they jumped on their feet when they finally saw my open eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” asked George. “You frightened us, you know.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before…” I murmured. 

Without really thinking about it, my decision was taken. 

“Told us what?”

And I told them everything. The violence my father had made me known, the murder. Everything. Once I had begged them not to say anything to anyone, not even Molly, I stayed silent and looked at them. 

To say they were shocked would be a massive understatement. They stayed silent for a long time, their expressions matching and turning more and more angry as the time passed. I was beginning to fear an explosion.

“I’m sorry,” murmured Fred. “I… I should’ve seen… I-”

“No!” I exclaimed, making him jump. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I didn’t want you to know, I would have never let you figure it out. Just please, promise me you’ll keep it a secret. Please!”

“Why would we do that?” George’s voice was awfully calm. “Why would we cover him whereas you’ve suffered because of him all these years? He killed the woman you loved like your own mother!”

“I know!” I cried out. “I know that, George! I was there, remember? I just… I don’t know. I don’t know.” I repeated with the head down. 

Another long silence took place, only broken by George. 

“Sorry… We won’t say anything.”

“That’s a promise.” added Fred. “But you have to promise us something too. No more secrets.”

I nodded, too happy to know I could trust my favourite twins with this to realize how shitty my life had just become.

To be continued

Tags: @pregnant-piggy

[bakubaewritings]

Lost (3)

Todoroki x reader - lost part 3

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 4)

** so sorry it took a while for this part to come out, I promise part 4 wont take as long, i will try to get it up asap. **

(slight mentions of sex & panic attack)

Having spent the last days of summer break with Dabi, you two had grown much closer. You felt comfortable with him, telling each other all about your lives, families, and pasts. However, there was still one secret you kept form him, your miscarriage. Today was a bit different from your usual schedule. You were heading back to the dorms at UA today to get all your stuff organized before school started. As you left abruptly, you doubted everything was still neat. Dabi had made the decision to tag along with you since it was mostly thanks to his encouragement, you felt so much stronger. Thankfully it looked like the coast was clear; no one had decided to come early and was at the dorms. You and Dabi began to carry your boxes up to your room. It wasn't very many, just some with clothes and decorations for your room. "How many boxes do you have doll? My arms are getting tired," Dabi complained, setting down another box near your bed. You let out a giggle, "I'm sure there's only one more." You told him as you were organizing your dorm room. Dabi grumbled and disappeared behind the door. You reached into one of the open boxes and pulled out a picture frame, the photo was of you and Shoto kissing under a cherry blossom tree from your first year of dating. The two of you had joined your classmates in attending a festival. You had worn a beautiful white and red kimono that matched Shoto's hair, remembering how he blushed when he first saw you made you tear up. You set the frame down next to you on the floor. Reaching into the box once more, this time, you pulled out a sonogram picture. It was your little baby before you found out they had no heartbeat. You starred down at the picture, your hands becoming shaky, for so long you had been trying to distract yourself from mourning the loss. Still, you couldn't ignore the pain in your chest every time you looked in the mirror. Tears flowed down your cheeks, letting out shaky breaths. Every moment of your isolated depressive months came back to you in a flash. The endless nights of isolated panic and anxiety, a feeling of shame still lingered. "Doll, are you alright?" Dabi's voice pulled you out of your trance. His eyes fell to the small black and white picture in your hands. You wiped the tears from your eyes, 'I'm alright." You were never good at lying, He could see right through your facade. Dabi set the last box down and walked towards you. You moved the picture in an attempt to hide the sonogram from him, but he was too quick. Dabi's eyes went wide as he looked down at the small photo. "Is this?" His voice was quiet, so calm. But there was evident pity and sorrow. You didn't speak a word, you couldn't. It was caught, like a pit in your throat. "Y/n." He wrapped his arms around your frame. His warmth comfort made you feel something you hadn't in so long, you felt safe. You cried into his shoulder for what felt like hours, Dabi caressed you, stroked your hair gently. Finally, you began to run out of tears and stopped crying. You were silent in his warm embrace, his touch felt so soft and warm. Dabi seemed to melt away all the sorrow that had frozen your heart, well almost all of it. Turning your head, your eyes met his own narrow turquoise eyes. They were soft, filled with emotion. His hand cradled the back of your head, "is this what Endeavour been blackmailing you with?" All you could do was give him a small nod. "Does Shoto know?" You shook your head, 'no.' He hugged you even tighter. Cradled in his arms with his back against the bed, his long legs bent so that you could sit on his thighs, your own legs around his waist. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, your faces were so close. His hot breath tingling your lips as the gap began to get smaller and smaller. "You're so beautiful, please don't cry." He cooed stroking your hair gently, his breath sent shivers your spine. Your lips moved almost on their own as they grazed his. "Y/N?" You jumped in Dabi's arms, like a teenager getting caught with a boy in her room by her parents. You moved backward, but Dabi's hand quickly took hold of your own, pulling you back towards him. With a deep red blush, you looked at the doorway to find Midoriya standing there, a faint blush on his cheeks, but tears in his eyes. "Zuzu," You couldn't help but let out a smile. As you began to stand, Dabi almost protectively tightened his grip on your hand. He didn't wasn't to let go, truth be told he was quite upset your moment had been interrupted. You turned to him, assuring him it was all right, and he let go hesitantly. You practically jumped into the green-haired boy's arms. "Hey, Zu, I missed you." You giggle, wiping the boy's tears away, your arms hugged at his waist tightly, laying your head on his shoulder. Midoriya had his arms wrapped right around you, sobs of happiness fell from his lips as he burst with joy. How he was to see you, and how worried he was, how much he had missed you. You returned with your own kind words, explaining your time away was much needed. Midoriya had become your best friend during your time at UA. In fact, he was almost like a part of your family, like a brother. "Umm, Y/n, who is that?" Midoriya was pointing to Dani, who had stood up from the floor and now leaned against the door frame. He was towering above you and Izuku. 'This guy looks pretty scary.' Midoriya screeched in his own thoughts "Oh, Zu, meet Touya Todoroki." You smiled in between the two boys, "Touya, this is my best friend, Izuku Midoriya." "Touya Todoroki, but please call me Dabi, I'm Y/n's fiancé." Dabi's voice came out in an almost possessive cold tone. It caught both you and Midoriya off guard. You had never could Dabi act like this towards you. "Fiancé?" Midoriya stuttered out confused "Dabi! You can't just come out and say that everyone's going to think I'm a whore for being engaged to my ex-boyfriend's brother." You scolded the tall, dark-haired man. Your angered tone caught him off guard, but he retained his calm composure best he could. "I'm sorry, would you prefer, hi I'm Touya, but please call me Dabi, and Y/n and I are engaged because my father set us up on an arranged marriage." He chuckled amusingly, you shook your head. Poor Midoriya was so confused, his mouth damn near the floor. "No, I would prefer you not to tell anyone we are engaged." You poked his chest roughly, your glare at him sharply. Turning over to Midoriya you sighed heavily, 'looks like the cats out of the bag, at least it's only Midoriya.' "Zu, please do not tell anyone, I'm waiting until we graduate to even make it "official." A lot of things happened during the break-." "But, I don't understand, why?" he interrupted you, his fists were balled up at his sides. His face screaming of confusion, anger, and even regret. Midoriya had been struggling a lot since you left. He developed a deep resentment for Todoroki after what had happened, and he felt awful that he couldn't help you. For much of summer break, he imagined how lonely and heartbroken you must have felt, and now when you were finally back, everything seemed more of a mess. Dabi placer a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Your answer is actually quite simple. The devil works hard, but Endeavor works harder." Midoriya's gaze fell to you, his eyes softened and filled with worry. "You aren't doing this out of your own, will are you?" His voice came out shaky, but the anger couldn't be ignored. You trusted him, you trusted Midoriya with your own life, so you told him. " Endeavor is blackmailing me. After Shoto and I broke up, I spent the summer break at my grandmother's, and then he showed up. He-" "He's a jackass." Dabi scoffed Midoriya nodded in agreement. "What is he blackmailing you with? Maybe we can talk to him; it couldn't be that serious that you should throw your whole life away to marry someone," he turned to Dabi, who had a scowl on his face. "No offense." You looked down at your feet, "it...it's.." Dabi's arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. Your gaze never left the floor. Your hands reached up to cup your face, you felt hot tears once again fall from your e/c eyes. Taking a deep breath, you spoke, "months ago, before Todoroki and I broke up. He started becoming distant, at first I didn't want to pry." Your words were shaky despite your attempts to be coherent. Dabi pulled you even closer, you could hear his heartbeat in your ears. "Doll it's alright you don't have to-" "I blamed myself for him being distant, so I thought. Maybe if I had sex with him, it would make him love me again, make him stay. But I got pregnant." A gasp came from Midoriya. Your gaze refused to leave the ground, but you could feel his eyes on you. "I didn't find out until a while ago, but when I found out, the baby didn't have a heartbeat. All my stress and depression after what happened, I just-" You collapsed onto the ground, breaking down hysterically. Your words were incoherent as coughs and sobs escaped your lips every time you attempted to speak. Both boys were now embracing you, and although you appreciated the love, it felt like it was becoming claustrophobic. "Please, I can't breathe." You inhaled in an attempt to fill your lungs with oxygen. "Y/n, are you alright?" Midoriya asked "I- I don't. I can't breathe." "She is having a panic attack," Dabi lifted you up into his arms. "She's cold," "We have to get her to the hospital." Midoriya cried You were still having trouble breathing, gripping Dabi's shirt so tightly your knuckles were white. Everything around you was incredibly blurry, the whole room was spinning. "Don't pass out Y/n, please." Dabi's voice was so quiet. He stuttered a little, almost like he was trying not to cry. But you couldn't, your eyelids were so heavy. Your brain felt as though it was pounding against your skull. You began to fade in and out until darkness overcame you. . . A loud, beeping sound woke you up. Opening your eyes to take in your surroundings, you were in a hospital room with an IV in your arm and monitors. Midoriya and Dabi were slumped in the chairs next to the bed. You sat up slowly, taking a deep breath. There were footsteps outside the door, along with some familiar voices. Your heart began beating quickly. In walked in some of your closest classmates, even Bakugo was there, with a scowl on his face. You were thankful that it wasn't everyone who had come. Seeing everyone at once felt like a little too much to handle for one day, especially since Todoroki and Momo weren't there. Kirishima carried with him a teddy bear, Ochacco with ballons, and Iida a bouquet of flowers. "What are you guys doing here?" You were shocked, happy, but very shocked. Kaminari practically dove towards you and snuggled up at your sides like a kitten, his arms wrapped around your waist. "We came to see if you were alright, Midoriya texted you were back." Ochaco smiled, walking towards you, to give you a hug. "Thank you guys, I missed you all so much." "We are so glad you're back and safe, Y/n." Mina chirped "Are you alright, Y/n? We haven't seen you since-" Tokoyami asked "I am, I needed a break away from everything. But I guess I wasn't fully ready to deal with everything since I ended up in the hospital." You scratched the back of your neck. "Midoriya said you had a panic attack, and your blood pressure dropped," Iida informed you. "oh," You looked over to Dabi and Midoriya, who was now waking up. Midoriya rubbed his eye gently when he noticed everyone in the room he smiled. "You guys came." "We did. We wanted to make sure our little Y/n was alright," Kaminari said, finally letting go of you and walking over towards Kirishima and Mina. Dabi stood up from the seat, taking the opportunity to stretch. Dabi toward over most of your classmates. He placed his large hand on your head, "you scared me, idiot." You looked up at him with big doe eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm alright, though." "Umm Y/n, who's your friend?" Ochaco asked curiously "Oh right guys this is T-" "Dabi, you can call me Dabi. Pleased to meet you all, Y/n has spoken highly of all of you." Your classmates began introducing themselves to Dabi, one by one. Everything seemed to be so peaceful, everyone talking like how it was before everything. That was until your stomach began growling. Everyone seemed to turn to you, a blush crept onto your cheeks in embarrassment. "Hey, you hungry, Y/n?" Midoriya asked You nodded, "yeah, actually." Kaminari decided to perk up, "Come on, guys, our Y/n is hungry. Let's go on a mission to get some food!" He cheered, causing you and everyone else to laugh. "Hey, stop yelling, idiot. We are in a hospital," Bakugo yelled angrily at Kaminari. "Bakugo, you're not helping your case by yelling yourself." Iida pointed out "You guys go on, I'll stay here with Y/n," Dabi told them. "I'll stay too." Midoriya and Ochaco jumped in "You guys don't have to, I'll be fine. Go get food for yourselves as well, and bring me something good, like (favorite food)!" You perked up thinking yummy food. "Are you sure Y/n?" Midoriya asked. You sent gave him a nod and a smile, assuring him it was alright. Dabi planted a kiss onto your forehead, "be a safe doll, don't go passing out on me again." You blushed a deep red color. Everyone else in the room was shocked as well. "you got it." Your voice came out as more of a squeal. "We'll be right back, Y/n." Kirishima waved "Don't go anywhere." Joked Mina "See ya in a bit Doll." After everyone was gone, you finally let out a shriek of embarrassment, letting your head fall back onto the pillows. Dabi was gonna get an ear full when you two were alone. There was the sound of the door opening again. You thought it was probably of your classmates who had forgotten something; to be honest, you were quiet, hoping it was Dabi. You lifted your head up from the bed to look at who had walked in, only to have your world stop. Staring back at you were a pair of tear-filled heterochromatic eyes.

[legacyofabsolutewalnuts]

(Don’t) Move

I haven’t really been following through on the heavy whump I would usually with these prompts, but they have provided my plenty of inspiration. So have a brief look into how Viticalia and Thomsyn first met on Quesh, mid Sith Warrior stoyline. Meant to go with prompt 11. (Don’t) Move

“Don’t move.”

The snarl that ripped out of Viticalia’s throat echoed across the cavern, muted only by the bodies at her feet. She didn’t bother looking, her own senses bouncing off the precious beacon of light standing between her and the exit. More than likely yet another one of Baras’ pawns, he certainly had enough of them scattered through the Republic, and she could think of a hundred better uses for them than what  Baras had achieved. Most of them have been wasted in their time only observing, when action could have changed the face of the war a hundred times over before the first treaty.

Vette, wisely, moved into a position where Viticalia’s blades could protect her. They’d worked together long enough now that she didn’t need to ask. The younger woman looked a bit worse for wear, they hadn’t been close enough together when the cave collapsed for Viticalia to get as solid of a barrier in place as she would have liked. She had done her best to protect Vette, which had left only her own force of will to keep her from being crushed by the debris. It had worked, if only barely, but breathing in more dust than air, and accepting the punishment of the rocks had left her body weaker than she was willing to accept.

“Get out of my way, Jedi, and you can leave here with your life.”

“If I were a betting woman, I would gladly bet against that. You don’t have the strength left.” The Jedi’s voice was more than amused and Viticalia palmed her blades as she turned to face the Jedi. She had not yet drawn her weapons, arms crossed over her chest and simply watching. She had that frustrating sense of calm, vague interest that most Jedi were capable of. Nearly emotionless. Grating.

She ignited one lightsaber as a threat, and the Jedi didn’t move. “This is your last warning, Jedi.”

“I’m willing to let you and your slave live, Sith.”

A common misconception, and one she didn’t have the energy to correct at the moment. “What do you want, Jedi?”

“I want  to know why you’re here. And what all of this is about.”

“That’s-”

“None of my business and Imperial secrets, yes, I’m aware. I can take you prisoner and ask you these questions later, if you like?”

The Jedi had  already read the hesitation in her long before it showed on Viticalia’s  brow and she growled lowly. “Let Vette- let the Twi’lek go, and I’ll answer your questions.”

“That would allow her to call for reinforcements for you.”

“Scared?”

“No.” Something glinted in the Jedi’s eye. An edge, something less than serene, and Viticalia focused on it, searching. “She may go.”

“Vits-”

“Vette, go, now. Back to the Fury, directly. Do not speak to anyone else till you get there, do you understand?”

She was opening her mouth to protest and Viticalia allowed herself to take her eyes off the Jedi for a moment. “No one else, Vette. Go.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“You’re not. The Jedi’s here.” She managed a twitch of a smile and Vette relaxed a little. It was enough of an admission that she’d survived worse, and would come back alive. “Off you go.”

She gave the Jedi a wide berth as she passed, and the Jedi responded in kind, allowing Vette to get to the entrance without incident. Viticalia tested the weight of her blades in her hands, igniting them both. “Stand down, Sith.”

“No.” She drew herself up, drew on her relief and power and let it settle clearly for the Jedi. “I am not so weak as you imagine.”

“I am well aware. There’s no need to fight. You negotiated on behalf of your...friend, it would seem. Clearly you’re the rare example of a reasonable Sith. We can negotiate.” The Jedi dropped her arms, taking a few paces forward so that Viticalia could see her a little better in the glow of her lightsabers. She was a tall, broad shouldered Cathar, thick hair drawn back and armour paired with the robes of a Jedi Master, modified for ease of movement. 

“I have no intention of betraying my people.”

“They seem to be willing to betray you.” The Jedi’s voice softened. “I felt the tremors when the cave collapsed, and I can feel the betrayal rolling off you. If one of my people had done it, I would have known.”

She snarled out of habit, to back up weakness with ferocity and the Jedi did not flinch. Of course. 

“You think I’ve come here to seize the opportunity, or because whoever betrayed you asked me to.” The Jedi’s head tilted curiously and Viticalia held her stare, gathering the Force into herself, preparing. “I can and will match you in battle, Sith, and right now you’re wounded. You're smart enough to send your ally to get others you trust, I think you're smart enough to avoid a fight right now.”

“You speak as though you understand my motivations. Assessing them from the few of my actions you’ve seen is foolhardy.” She deactivated the blades and set the hilts on her belt slowly. “But I have more important people to kill than a single Jedi.”

The Jedi took something from her pack, backlit by the entrance to the cave before an emergency lamp was lowered. “Good. Now. Which one of your Masters is making a play within the Empire by trying to off you here?”

“You think I’ll happily reveal any weaknesses the Empire may have?”

“You seem to realize the Empire has weaknesses, as everyone does, which puts your intelligence leagues above many I’ve met.” The Jedi set the rest of her pack down on the floor. “You may call me Thomsyn, by the way.”

Thomsyn was as pretty as she is powerful, and practical. “Viticalia, of house Volcatius.”

Thomsyn blinked once, even as Viticalia lifted her chin to state her family name with pride. “Lord Dapatica’s younger sister then. I’ve heard reports about you.”

“I suspect you have.”

“You left Balmorra a mess. And your sister is no less impressive.”

The word choice was telling. Viticalia shifted her stance, embracing the pain she’d been ignoring while negotiating, pulling it deeper into herself, letting it fester and drawing on the fire within it. Thomsyn looked at her for a long moment, big green eyes boring into her and tilted her head a little again. “You’re hurt worse than you appear.”

Her upper lip raised in a half-hearted snarl, but her own exhaustion and weakness, combined with the Jedi’s overwhelming sense of calm was beginning to get to her. “I am fine.”

Thomsyn took the hilt of her lightsaber, and Viticalia tensed for a long moment before the Jedi casually tossed it toward the entrance of the cave. “Come here, let me look at your wounds.”

“I am not unarmed, Jedi.”

“Nor am I even without my lightsaber, but the gesture counts. You’ve agreed, although you’re being rather obtuse about it, to provide information. Let me offer you something in return.”

“Aside from my life?”

“If you die of your wounds before your allies reach you, then I haven’t upheld my end, have I?” Thomsyn rolled her shoulders once. “I only bite people I like, promise.”

She dropped both her lightsabers a moment later, stalking over to the Jedi. “I can, and will, kill you with my bare hands, Jedi.”

“I told you to call me Thomsyn.” She sat, and Viticalia followed hackles up, but unable to deny the strange ease and trust radiating off of Thomsyn. Either she overestimated her own abilities, or she truly did have a good bead on Viticalia’s current situation. It seemed very much to be the later, “I assume you don’t want me to touch you?”

“No.” Healing took a great deal from a Force-user. Concentration and power. It would leave them vulnerable in the meantime. She could feel the Jedi focusing her power, and the rush of Light over her stung like wounds being cleaned. She swallowed once and then allowed herself to speak. “My Master was Darth Baras.”

“Ah. Thank you. You may answer my questions at your leisure. Now, please, don’t move.” 

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Day Five

Day Five of the Hello Spring 2020 Writing Prompt Challenge

Characters- Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Fem! Reader, Unnamed Female Character

Prompt- “Maybe you can come to my show?”

A/N- This is a bit of personal experience- I danced as Cinderella when I was younger.

Wordcount- 919

                Three. The number of bodies that had dropped in the last two weeks. It was strange to say the least, and though the FBI wasn’t what you’d pictured, it made sense someone would come to investigate the abnormal deaths. Your dancing was your life, and having been a ballerina since you were old enough to twirl in a tutu, performing on stage was the one place you felt most at home. You never even felt stage-fright. But with three ballerinas in the morgue, now you were scared. This felt like an attack- how else could three young women suddenly die of heart attacks the night of their recital? None of it made any sense, and then you had overhead the FBI agents on your way home from practice, and had more questions than answers. 

          “I dunno, Sammy, this seems more witchy than vengeful spirit.” The shorter agent had said, low timbre settling warm in your stomach. “Yeah, I know, but we haven’t found any hex bags yet.” The taller man replied, sounding frustrated. “Well, keep lookin’. Way it’s been goin’, we don’t have long before another girl turns up dead.” The green-eyed man, who had introduced himself as Agent Young, but you severely doubted his credibility now, sighed. You stood in shock, and then in a moment of either extreme courage  or stupidity, stepped into their view. 

         “Who are you? And don’t say FBI.” You demanded, eyes narrowed. You supposed you didn’t look very intimidating, in a black leotard with your ballet bag over your shoulder, but your voice was hard. “Shit. Well, cat’s outta the bag now. You wanna tell her, or should I?” The green-eyed Adonis asked, seemingly amused by the turn of events.

            They’d given you “the talk”, and revealed that the ballerinas in starring roles were being targeted by a witch, and provided proof before you pulled pepper-spray on them, and that led you to now. “Dean, are you sure? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I... I really don’t want to die.” You confess, looking up at Dean nervously. You clicked with Dean well, and while Sam was perfectly kind to you, the oldest brother had a soft spot for you as well. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart. I swear to you we will catch the witch and put a stop to this, ok? I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.” Dean smiles warmly, and something about the sincerity in his forest-green eyes convinces you as you give a shaky nod. You’d danced as a thousand roles, but now, starring as Cinderella, you were the next target, and butterflies assaulted your gut. Thankfully, the witch seemed to wait until after the performance, which gave Sam and Dean time to “gank the bitch” as Dean said. The opening notes play from a piano, and you know it’s time, but you turn to Dean again for some silent comfort. Impulsively, he leans down and kisses you softly, looking only slightly flushed while you’re sure you’re a mess when he pulls away. “Go get ‘em, sweetheart.” He winks. 

            The ballet is almost over, and you’re gliding and pirouetting through the closing act with a Prince Charming you can’t help but compare to Dean when you look to the wings of the stage and find Dean standing there, giving you a nod. You understand immediately, and a weight is lifted- they must’ve found and killed the witch, and while it won’t bring back your friends and fellow ballerinas, you are immensely satisfied to know justice is served. The rest of Cinderella flies past you in a blur of blues and golds and a rush of applause- your smile grows exponentially when you sneak a glance at Dean and see his own wide grin as he cheers for you- before you take a final bow. 

            Giddy with pride, relief, and excitement, you rush towards the two men, embracing Dean with a laugh. “You did it, right? She’s gone?” You ask, just to be sure. “Yeah, we got her. You’re safe. But, uh, we were thinkin’ about maybe sticking a round for a while. Just in case.” Dean winks. He presents you with a single rose, and you know you must be glowing like a beacon from the bright red staining your cheeks. Over Dean’s shoulder, your best friend is giving you a not-so-subtle thumbs-up you try your hardest to ignore. “Dean, this is so sweet. Thank you.” You say with a smile, leaning up on your pointe shoes and kissing his cheek. You stifle a laugh at his wide-eyes and cheesy smile. “Well, if you’re going to be here next week, I have another recital. You didn’t really see the performance, so maybe you can come to my show?” You offer hopefully. Dean glances at Sam, and then back to you. “I think we can swing that. Do I get front-row seating?” Dean teases. “Only the best for my favourite audience member.” You wink back, feeling your heart beating over-zealously and those butterflies swoop in your stomach. “Y/N, if you’re free, I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner sometime.” Dean proposes, trying his best to be very casual about it. “I’d love to.” You sport matching smiles, and Dean elbows his brother in the ribs when he mutters something under his breath as you laugh quietly. “After you, Cinderella.” “Why thank you, Prince Charming.”

               Dean ended up with front-row seating to every one of your recitals- only the best for your boyfriend.

TAGS-

@ibwhellowriting​

[corescorner]

Charmberry Cove Chapter Five.

Chapter Title: Funerals and Forging Friendships.

Wordcount: 4,645

AO3

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4.

Taglist: @unsocialchapeau @aularei @softest-emo

Today is the funeral.

His grandmother’s funeral, his grandmother who he doesn't really know. He's not sure how to feel about it, he's sad that he didn't know her and he's sad that he won't be able to anymore.

He doesn't really know what's going to happen at the funeral, it was planned three days ago so he's not really expecting anyone but his family to be there, who would know about it in such short notice?

Maybe he should have invited Patton, they seemed close.

Great, now he feels like a jackass for not thinking of that sooner.

He's in his room with the lights off except the fairy lights, he’s slumped in his computer chair with his head resting on the back of it; staring into the ceiling rafters.

Hex is sleeping on top of the computer monitor; never too far away from Virgil.

He lolls his head to look at his alarm clock to check how much time he has before they have to leave, not too long it seems.

He hasn't changed from his sleep clothes all day, hasn't really felt like it.

But, he should probably get ready so he trudges his way to his dresser to find some suitable clothing. Dad said he didn't need to dress for a funeral, to just dress regularly cause it was supposed to be more of a celebration of life and not the mourning of death.

But he thinks that's kind of a moot point considering all his clothes are dark anyway.

He does have some colours, purples, reds, dark blues. But he chooses all black anyway it just seems like he should, he feels it matches his feelings right now with everything going on.

So a simple black t-shirt with a spider web pattern and a baggy hoodie should be fine with jeans. Dad did say it didn't matter he doesn't need to be fancy.

He makes his way upstairs (Hex shadows him) to not be bored in his room anymore, he'll just be bored in the living room instead. It makes logical sense, shush.

Flopping on to his chair, he waits in silence. Hex joins him on his chest and curls up; her purrs start immediately.

It's quiet here with Dad gone.

He wonders what Dad and Uncle Dice are doing and if they're still arguing over whatever they were the other day.

It's quiet...

“Hey there sleepy head” Pops softly shakes Virgil awake, he didn't even realize he fell asleep. “We need to head out soon, are ya ready?” He's crouched in front of Virgil's chair to be eye level with him and smiling softy.

Virgil slowly nods.

“Alrighty then, let’s get our shoes on them hm?” Pops has been talking to him with soft tones and in question form since Monday, which okay sure, Virgil hasn't uttered a word since then, but that isn't really anything new or different.

It's not uncommon for him to not be able to talk for multiple days. Though, then Virgil usually just signs at that point and Pops always tries to help him through whatever is bothering him. Virgil hasn't even signed anything to him, how could he? He can't just bring up what he heard, what Dad and Uncle Dice were talking about! And he defiantly can't just tell him that he doesn't know what’s bothering him, Pops always knows when he's lying. Not that he lies to his parents often.

So he just stays silent. Silent is safe, no room for messing up what you wanna say.

No wonder Pops is worried. Damn it Virgil, why do you have to be this way?

They head to the car. Virgil has his hands in his hoodie pockets with the hood up, he’s trailing behind his father as they walk down the walkway to the driveway.

They head to the only funeral home in town, which is at the other side of town and in twenty minutes they're there.

Virgil is floored looking over the expanse of the property.

The cemetery is huge. The wide field of tombstones end with forest baring it on all sides, like wherever you go in this town you'll eventually be stopped by a forest barrier.

The cemetery is overwhelming in and of itself, but the large Gothic house that is practically a mansion looms just in front of the cemetery gates.

The sign in the front of the pathway leading up to the house reads:

                                            Ainsworth Cemetery.

                                               Funeral Home.

                                               Crematorium.

                                                   Mortuary.

                                                   Open 24/7

                                                   Est. 1766

 He was so distracted by everything that he didn't notice how many cars were situated in the parking lot and all around the property.

And there are a lot of cars, it looks like most of the town is attending.

They walk up the path and up the stairs to the porch.

Right beside the large double doors a poster board with a picture of his grandmother in her twenties-ish is propped up. Her wild mane of red curls frames her freckled face, she has a bright toothy smile in place and a very familiar pair of sun glasses perched on her forehead.

The poster board simply reads:

 Clementine Tempest.

Loved by all.

1853 – 2012

 1853? That, that must be some kind of typo right? It can't be right cause according to that she would have to have been about a hundred and fifty years old.

He turns to Emile confused, and is about to tap the board in question, but Pops just slips his hand into Virgil's.

“There's gonna be an overwhelming amount of people in there, you wanna stay by my side?” He asks gently.

Virgil's eyes go wide, an overwhelming amount? How do they all know it was today the funeral was just planned!

His hold on Pops tightens and they walk through the ornate doors, down some hallways towards the back of the mansion.

They step through another pair of ornate doors, and holy wow. It is like half the town is here, there are way too many people.

The room is large enough to hold all of them and then some, like a ball room. There are large ceiling length windows lining the back walls that look over into the cemetery and the almost set sun. Under the middle window the casket stands on a pedestal surrounded by an abundance of different colourful flowers.

The left side of the room is situated with tables a myriad of food items on the long ones and smaller tables scattered around for you to eat at. The right side of the room holds what looks like an open bar.

It was more of a party than a funeral, some people wore black but not in a mourning type way, more like that's what their style is anyway, there’s a lot of colour to be seen in the crowd.

People are chatting light heartedly and laughing, children are running around and dancing to the soft upbeat music playing and everyone seems to be having a great time despite the circumstances.

Pops still holding onto Virgil's hand, tugs him lightly “let’s go find your father yea?”

Virgil doesn't answer him, he just points to Dad who is already on his way over to them.

When he reaches them he slumps against Pops, his head resting on Emile's shoulder.

“Uugh, I am so glad that you guys are here my brother is driving me freakin insane, like stop please for two seconds.” He whines into Pops’ neck, Emile pets Remy's head. “I'm coming home tonight, I just can't deal with him anymore” he mumbles.

Pops hugs him he drags Virgil into it as well and they stay like that for about half a minute as the party continues around them, that's fine though.

Dad is the one who breaks the embrace with a tired sigh, he looks at Virgil “how you holdin' up Pumpkin?”

Virgil shrugs one shoulder, looking up at him behind his bangs.

Dad looks tired.

“I think I saw your friend Patton over by the bar, why don't you go chill with him?” Remy suggests.

Pops squeezes his hand encouragingly then loosens his grip, but still holding on to let Virgil make the decision.

He lets go and makes a not so convincing smile, heart thudding in his chest as he walks out of his fathers grasp and into the throng of people he heads towards the bar.

He hears loud light laughter the closer he gets and he sees Patton perched on a bar stool, hand on the shoulder of the kid next to him who seems exasperated at the antics of the kid that is next to him.

As he gets closer he can hear their conversation.

“Do you think I can steal some booze when the bartender isn't looking?”

“Remus no!”

“Remus yes!”

“Please don't” Patton says.

The boy on the far side puts his hand on Remus'? Shoulder, he sighs dramatically.

“You guys are no fuuun” He whines.

Patton shakes his head but there's a smile on his face. That’s when he notices Virgil heading there and his face brightens even more, waving at him gesturing him over like that's not exactly what he was doing.

“Virgil! I was wondering when you'd get here! Guys this is who I was talking about the other day!” He gestures to Virgil.

They all swivel around in their stools to look at him.

No pressure or anything, everyone is just staring at him. He two finger salutes the group, not being able to talk at the moment, not that in this particular situation he'd be able to anyway. He's not going to be able to handle this, they're all gonna hate him, he can't speak for gods sake!

A small sense of calm suddenly pokes at him.

Patton gestures to his friends. “Guys this is Virgil!”

“Yea, no duh” the one next to Patton murmurs, Patton looks at him with a cute scowl/pout but otherwise ignores him.

He gestures next to him, the boy in a white shirt with red accents and a little crown on the breast pocket. “This is Roman! And next to him is his twin brother Remus!” He announces.

Remus is wearing a dark green shirt that hangs low on one shoulder, the shirt reads 'good mourning' and there's a picture of a skeleton waking up in a coffin. How appropriate. Remus waves madly his smile wide.

“And on the end there is Logan!” Patton says.

Logan, in a simple black polo and a shiny dark blue tie nods his head in Virgil's direction.

“Come sit with us!” Patton says excitedly patting the stool next to himself.

Virgil hopes the smile he wears is welcoming and nice but he has a feeling it's more strained than anything.

He climbs on to the stool and the others swirl theirs back towards the bar.

Roman leans forwards on the bar to look at Virgil “so, what's your deal?”

His deal? What does he mean by that?

Virgil narrows his eyes, a scowl in place and tries to answer but no sound comes out only a scoff, well this is going to be a disaster isn't it? And he actually liked being around Patton too.

“Patton gave us the impression that you could speak, was that false or are you just really shy?” Roman says.

“He's just nervous around new people! I had to push a little emotion into our first conversation before he was comfortable” Patton says brightly but pointedly.

Roman doesn't look impressed, Virgil gets the feeling he doesn't like him too much...

“Why would you say it like that Pat? If he's living here he's going to know sooner rather than later.”

Know what?

Patton swerves his head towards Roman “well maybe I'm not ready to tell him yet” he says a little uneasily, a little scared.

More people not telling him things.

“Okay! Enough of your petty bullshit Ro!” Remus says smacking the bar top.

Roman lets out an offended noise, hand at his chest. “Ugh, petty bullshit? excuse you!”

Remus ignores his brother “Virgil, why the fuck are you here?”

“Remus!” Patton scolds.

Logan clears his throat “I am sorry about that Virgil, we do not meet many new people, if at all any. It’s a very small town and we don't usually leave for long periods of time.”

“Kay, sure yea but it was a serious question! He just moved here, how does he know the dead person?” Remus defends.

“She was my grandmother” he whispers. Finally, words.

“And he speaks” Roman says waving a hand.

Patton sends Virgil a soft smile, Logan looks down at the bar uncomfortably, Remus is staring at him. 

“I am... Sorry” Roman says quietly.

“Eeeyea, me too I didn't know” Remus says.

Virgil shrugs, whatever it's not like he expected them to know.

Patton is the one to lift the mood.

“Whadda want to drink Virge?”

Drink? At the bar? What. They're twelve.

He cocks his head to the side to see what everyone else is drinking.

Patton has a root beer float, alright then. Roman’s drink looks like a sunset, he has no idea what that could be. Remus has a dark red, syrupy looking drink and Logan has a tea cup.

Okay so, they're presumably not drinking alcohol, good he wouldn't know what to do if they were. What even is the drinking age around here? Probably not anywhere near twelve that's for sure.

“Uh, I don't know... It's okay I'm good” he murmurs.

The bartender sets a glass in front of him, it looks like an iced latte of some sort whipped cream and raspberries topping it.

What? Looking at it he realizes that, yea this is actually what he really wanted, how did she know that before he did?

Patton smiles up at her “thanks Kate!”

She salutes him and moves on to the other end of the bar.

No one questions this behaviour, no one even seems confused by it.  

Virgil sips at his drink, pumpkin spiced. Nice. The raspberries are a nice touch too, he loves raspberries.

The four other boys continue to talk amongst themselves, Virgil is content to just listen in on the conversation at hand.

He can get used to this whole, group thing, he’s used to having only one friend so being in a group is going to be a weird difference

A bell chimes all around the large room and everyone turns towards the casket where the sound originated.

A man and a woman in very nice clothing are standing there in front of the casket, the woman speaks.

“Good evening, I would like to inform everyone that all the guests who is coming has arrived, we will start the ceremony shortly so please when the seats raise be seated.”

She claps her hands and everyone moves to the sides as the floor slowly splits down the middle and a platform of pews rise.

No one seems surprised, they all moved like it was the norm for a room to transform itself with the clap of the hands.

What is up with this town?

As the pews platform clicks into place people start taking their seats.

The man at the front stands next to the bench right at the front and announces.

“Would the family of the deceased sit in the front please.”

And although he said 'please' Virgil doesn't think he meant it as a question or request.

He fidgets in his seat, being in the front? That's too much. He'd much rather spectate in the back than everyone watch him even walk to the front, nonetheless be seated in front of all of them. He wishes he knew where his fathers were, it'd be easier to walk down that aisle with someone.

Patton lays a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, more comforting than it really should have been, but it does relax him enough for him to get up.

He takes a deep breath, eyes closed and releases it, okay he’s ready.

As much as he says that he'd be fine to himself, he's still kind of nervous but he does it anyway. He walks down the aisles of people, trying to ignore them, and when he gets to the front there sits his two favourite people in the world and his anxieties lessen.

He sits in between them, they both put their arms around him on the back of the bench and scooting their bodies closer together in a comforting shelter.

The ceremony like everything else lately is weird and confusing.

There’s a lot of burning strong smelling things and sing chanting in another language.

His family is sprayed with some type of  light purple mist that smells good and then when it’s all over people are allowed to go up to the front to speak.

There are many people who spoke of the cafe fondly and how his grandmother always made them feel welcomed and secure.

There are people who, to Virgil were spouting absolute nonsense, stuff he didn't understand and couldn't decipher the meanings of.

Some things were hard to keep track of, but he listened anyway.

Patton went up, teary eyed and said how much he was going to miss her, they were pretty close, Clem taught him a lot of things but he couldn't seem to continue everything he wanted to say cause he just began crying through his words, Roman escorted him away from the podium, arms around his shoulders.

Both his fathers went up at the same time, regaling the great times that they shared and reminiscing about their lives with her, how supportive she was. Pops cried when he was talking about how much she changed his life and how he'll never be able to repay her.

She was, is and forever will be loved it seems.

Surprisingly, Uncle Dice didn't go up, he just sat there uncharacteristically quiet.

After the ceremony the sky was black and the stars were shining brightly with the full moon hanging proudly in the sky.

The view from the windows on looking the cemetery was breathtaking.

People started to leave the hall and he noticed when most of them were gone, Patton and his group stayed. They were the only other people there, besides some other kid who looked like they were cleaning up.

The group started to walk towards him so he met them in the middle, Patton put his arms around him and squeezed.

Remy sauntered up to them.

“Damn, okay so who here wants some freakin milkshakes?” He says.

“That'd be great” Patton chirps.

“Fuuuck yess” Remus hollers.

“Wonderful!” Roman lilts out.

“That would be satisfactory” Logan replies.

Well, they're quite the group huh, he guesses he's part of that now?

Remy smiles at the young teens, turning to address Virgil he says “She left you something, though you can't use it till you're like sixteen so, like we'll just use it till you can, and right now with this entourage it's gonna be useful, come it's outside.”

They all follow him outside to the parking lot and they stop in front of a hippy looking van, kinda like the Mystery Machine, but painted in different shades of purples and blues with the odd reds and yellows swirling through.

Pops is sitting in the passenger seat already, looking nostalgic.

Dad opens the side door for the boys to get in, there are no back seats just a bunch of comfortable looking pillows with cushy flooring and fairy lights strung up.

They all climb in and settle themselves before Dad starts the van.

Virgil sits in the middle of the two front seats facing his, friends?

“Hey Dad, why'd she give me this van?” he whispers.

“Well, she gave your uncle and I the cafe, that he thank Goood signed over to me. But this van was also a big part of her life, she lived in this van for quite a while, she probably just wanted to give you a piece of herself.”

He doesn't know how to feel about that, it's great, it's unexpected and he wishes not for the first time that he actually knew his grandmother.

Virgil sits there on the floor of his van (weird) his head is leaning on Pops’ chair, he scratches at Virgil’s scalp soothingly, his eyes close as he listens to the soft chatter the others.

His friends.

 ~0~

Patton hasn't been in the cafe since Clem died, even before Remy closed it and they were still open and running despite its owner dying.

He just didn't feel right going in anymore without her there, it hurt too much.

And now here he is standing in front of it with his friends like it was a normal Friday night for them.

All the lights inside were obviously off, it being closed and all, but the lights in the apartment upstairs were on shining lightly and slightly cutting the darkness.

He hasn’t seen those lights on since, well it’s occupant died.

Remy unlocks the doors and keeps it open for them and gestures for them to go in.

Virgil fidgets but goes in first, leading the rest of them in.

The swirl of emotions he feels from everyone as they all stand in the darkened cafe almost makes him cry again. He pushes against the sad feelings but doesn't push it out into the air, he doesn’t think now is a good time to shift the rooms emotion.

Doesn't mean he can't do it to himself.

Their usual spot is at the largest bay window with a round table nestled up to the windows seat and two comfortable chairs sitting on the other side of it.

They take their seats like they always do, Roman on one side of the window with Patton next to him, his legs are usually stretched out on the window seat with him leaning his back against the wall but not this time as Virgil sits next to Patton. Logan and Remus each takes one of the chairs.

Remy walks up to them, Emile right behind him and they stop in front of their table, Emile snakes his arms around his husband and lays his chin on Remy’s shoulder, eyes closing.

“So, like what do you guys want?” He addresses them.

“Is the menu still the same?” Logan asks.

Remy taps his chin thinking “hmm, well for the sake of this being easy, yea sure. But like I don't care, ask for anything and I'll conjure it up for you.”

Remus gasps loudly, Remy raises an eyebrow.

“Oh god, don't tell him that!” Roman protests.

Patton giggles.

“Why not?” Virgil asks slowly his eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well, Remus has a very unique set of taste buds” Patton explains.

“That's a nice way of saying the stuff he likes is disgusting” Roman says.

“Pshh, bitch please” is all Remus responds with.

“Do you wanna know what some of his favourite snacks are?” Roman prompts but continues speaking without waiting for an answer “frozen fish sticks that are still frozen!” he throws his hands up in the air.

Virgil's head does a weird little head jiggle of confusion and he looks at Remus.

“What, I... What? Those are frozen, you don't eat those frozen” he says baffled.

“Maybe you don't” Remus rolls his eyes.

“Another one” Roman pipes up “is Nutella and tater tots!”

“That one is actually quite good” Logan says everyone looks to him, Remus is beaming. “What? The crispy, savoury, saltiness of the tater tots complement the sweet, chocolate nuttiness of the Nutella, I highly suggest you try it before dismissing it” he says fixing his glasses.

“I keep telling him that! As someone who prefers sweet and salty mixtures you'd think he would try it too!” Remus throws his hands up.

“Sounds like a new menu item” Remy says, that makes Remus whirl in his direction making his chair rock a bit, his eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?” He shouts.

“Totes kid” he says, Patton giggles

“Don'tcha mean 'tots'?” he says giggling even more.

Logan closes his eyes and breathes deeply, Remus looks amused, Roman lets out a soft 'oof' but he's smiling and Virgil is looking like he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or scowl.

“Anyway, what the heck do you guys want, milkshake wise cause that's what I'm feelin like experimenting with right now. Nothing is off the table go wild.”

“Fuuuuck yes!” Remus shouts again.

Roman groans, Virgil and Logan snicker.

“I dunno how adventurous I am” Patton says.

Remy shrugs. “It's whatever, if you want something on the menu I won't like stop you.”

“Mm, okay I want birthday cake then.”

“Do you have any Crofters on hand?” Logan asks.

“Sure kid.”

Logan's eyes widen a bit, surprise comes off of him, it probably went against his probability.

“Would you perhaps be able to make a milkshake with it?”

“Don't see why not, and hey if it's good I'll so put it on the menu too.”

“I, I. Yes okay, that is”- he clears his throat and adjusts his tie -“acceptable.”  

“Okay me now!” Remus grabs their attention “I've been thinking on this” he says.

“Oh that's always a good sign” Roman groans.

Remus kicks him from under the table making Roman squawk but continues like he didn't just do that. “I want something with pickles!”

“Ew, you are disgusting, how are we twins?” Roman says flailing his arms up, almost hitting Patton in the face he knocks his glasses slightly, Patton puts a hand on Roman's hand gently lowering it and keeping it there. Roman looks at him apologetically.

Remy hums “so like pickle juice incorporated into it or?”

“Yea! But also some chunks I want a crunch!”

“Alrighty you funky little weirdo” he says affectionately.

“I cannot believe you are humouring this... Well, whatever. I'll have peanut butter and chocolate one please” Roman says.

“Pumpkin spiced” Virgil says, Remy hums knowingly.

“I'll be back with those. Have fuun” he says turning towards the kitchen with Emile, who looks really tired.

Things are unusually quiet for a few seconds until Virgil jerks upwards, looking from him to Logan.

“Hey, you have the same glasses!”

Remus and Roman both burst out laughing, Patton snickers.

Logan looks at him and nods slightly while fixing his glasses “yep” is all he says to that.

Virgil is becoming a part of the group, slowly but it's happening he can feel it. He smiles at the fact that Virgil won’t have to be the new kid who's alone at school.

School starts pretty soon, which means this weekend is...

“Oh!” Patton smacks his hands onto the table top startling everyone. “School is starting soon! This weekend, guys guys, this weekend!” he says jumping in place with excitement looking around at everyone then pointedly nudging his head in Virgil's direction.

“Yes Patton, I think that's a wonderful idea” Logan says.

Roman sighs but agrees “of course he can join.”

“Yea! One more for an orgy!” Remus declares.

“You did not have to say it like that, that's gross.” Roman whines.

Remus just shrugs, laughing.

“Anyway...” Patton begins, turning to Virgil he explains. “Okay so we have this tradition we started when we were around eight where the last weekend of the summer we have a weekend long slumber party starting on Friday! We always change who's house it's at, and since you're new we're not gonna make you play host, but do you wanna start coming to them? You're our friend after all!”

Everyone looks at Virgil, anxiety rolls off of him, he's looking around at everyone panicked, trying to find something and apparently doesn't find anything malicious on any of their faces.

“Uh, yea sure. Sounds like fun.”

Patton claps “This is going to be great Virge, you'll see!”

[bottomtonyhoe]

Drama Kings - Chapter 2

“ Where the fuck were you ? “ Jensen is welcomed by his mom’s angry voice .

“School , apparently . “ He kicks off his Nike’s near the door , then neatly places them in his shoe bin .

“ No . Mr. Sheppard called and told me why you skipped 7th period “ She scolds , placing a hand on her hip .

Screw you , accent asshole who can’t keep his mouth shut .

“ So ? It is not like I skipped the whole day , and hey I got a nearly perfect score in Maths in the last test , so I am good “ . It was true . He knows people take him for a dumb jock who probably inherited his dad’s IQ level , but he never had a problem with the material . He just hated listening to teachers rambling about their glory days .

“ It is not your grades I’m worried about “ She snaps and Jensen snorts . He wasn’t going to have this conversation .

“ I’m going to my room “ he practically runs upstairs , ignoring all the yelling and shutting the door behind him .

God . His room is such a mess .

_________________________________________

Jared spends the rest of the evening texting Gen and Misha . They go on and on about their summer vacation and their funny memories together . Jared warms up to them quicker than he thought , although they are a little weird to be completely honest .

He tries to distract himself with homework so he won’t think about his earlier , rather embarrassing encounter with his crazily hot neighbor . It only works for a few minutes , until he hears a loud guitar coming from the window opposite to his . Led Zeppelin voice blasts across the room and he walks towards his window . the houses aren’t even that close to each other , What the fuck is wrong with this person ?

“ Hey ! Could you turn this down ? HEY ! “ Jared yells and bangs his hand against the window , finally getting the attention of whoever that disrespectful brat was .

Except , he didn’t expect this when the curtains were moved aside .

The hot neighbor from earlier turns to be the next door brat who blasted both their windows with Metallic rock . He looks at him for a moment , then turns off the music .

“ Sorry , man . I am not used to people living in this house . It won’t happen again . “ He says scratching the back of his neck .

If God wanted to purposefully punish him , he wouldn’t create such a perfect looking human being with an equally perfect , deep voice . God dammit .

“ It’s fine “ Jared says and urges himself to move , but he feels glued to the floor .

“ I saw you earlier . You go to my school , right? “ the boy asks , leaning against his window frame . Jared tries not to stutter as he answers .

“ Yeah , I’m Jared by the way “

“ Jensen , So are you a senior too ? “

As in ‘ Asshole quarterback star ‘ Jensen freaking Ackles . This is a cosmic bad joke that God is probably playing . The boy next door is practically Regina George , no matter how dramatic that sounds .

“ Y-yeah , I am “ Jared hears himself say weakly .

“ Ok then . See you tomorrow , Jared “ Jensen throws a bright , too goddamn charming smile his way .

It takes longer this time to remember how to breathe .

Jensen sits down on his bed and writes ‘ Jared ‘ down on his Facebook search . he scrolls through the list of Jareds till he finds a ‘ Jared Padalecki ‘ with a profile picture of the boy grinning , and damn , those dimples .

He knows he shouldn’t be stalking the kid on social media , but he does it anyways . After a few minutes of scrolling , he finds out that the boy used to live in LA before he moved to Chicago . He had a golden retriever dog , but he passed away , but that’s all .

Jensen did that because he is curious . He doesn’t find Jared any more interesting than any other new kid . He is just curious , that’s all .

_____________________________

“ YOUR FUCKING NEIGHBOR “ Jared had to hold his right ear , to protect it from Gen’s mental freak out . He really shouldn’t have told her .

“ That would be an awesome romantic movie , except oh , Jensen is straight “ Misha says , digging through his cheese burger ,

“ Wait , how-“

“ How did I know you liked dicks . You stare dude , not that I mind . Hot stuff “ Misha winks at the last phrase . Jared knows he is bi . he has it on his instagram bio . Who does that ?

“ He practically tried to shatter our windows with Led Zeppelin music “ Jared says , changing the topic

“ Asshole “ Misha sings .

The three of them walk to math class . He looks up to see Jensen taking a seat in front of him .

“ Hey , Jared . “ Jensen turns around , flashing him one of his charming smiles . His freckles are even more fascinating up close . Jared finds himself smiling .

“ So , You are coming to today’s game ?” Jensen asks and Jared shrugs

“ I don’t know . I’m not really into football .”

“ You don’t have to be . Just come watch . Maybe I can make you like it “ . A smirk spreads on his flawless lips and Jared gulps .

God . Is he flirting ? He is straight , right ?

“ Alright “

Then Mrs. Rhee walks in the class and Jensen turns around , a smile still plastered on his face .

God . Jared is royally fucked .

_____________________

Later on , Jared sits on the first bench next to Gen , who starts telling him the names of football players .

“ And this is Tyler Lockwood . A homophobic son of a whore who happens to be your neighbor’s brother in crime . Another reason why I hate the football team , and why Misha had gone home by now . “

Wow . So he wasn’t flirting at all .

“ A bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole bunch “ Jared didn’t know why ( or who ) he was defending .

“ Don’t tell me you got the hots for Ackles “ She whispers , as if it was highly confidential .

“ God Gen . No , I am not dumb enough to like a straight guy “

Or is he ?

“ You’d better not be , Padalecki “ then Gen looks straight ahead .

He doesn’t understand why they don’t like him that much . He was pretty nice to Jared and apart from arrogance and loud music , he is bearable .

But again , he only spoke to him for 2 minutes .

“ Here he comes “

________________________

Apparantly , Jared likes football .

No , He likes how Jensen plays football . They won the game , thanks to him . Jensen takes off his helmet , enjoying the glory of being the star of the match . His name is being chanted , people are praising him and the coach pats his shoulder roughly , with a proud smile on his face .

Jensen looks up at him and their eyes lock , then suddenly , he doesn’t hear all those cheers . He can only see Jensen’s beautiful smile , just for him , and his forest green eyes . He returns the smile with a grin and mouths “ great job “ which seems to widen Jensen’s smile and earn him a wink .

Wait , did he just wink at him ? Wow .

“ Did he just ? “ Gen asks , confusion dancing around her face .

Jared takes a deep breathe , then shrugs

______________________

“ You nailed it “ Jensen hears Tyler praise before he feels his bone crushing embrace . God , they both stink .

“ I know , right ? “ Jensen smiles and Ty punches his arm , both undressing .

See ? Jensen doesn’t find guys hot , doesn’t stare . Why the fuck is Jared so different ? or so beautiful ?

“ Did you see Osric today ? “ Ty asks , getting in the shower and closing the door behind him . Jensen does the same and takes off the rest of his clothes , letting the hot water run down his body .

“ Why ? didn’t do your homework ?”

“ Damn straight . He said he’d do it , but I can’t find him anywhere and Mr, Physics bullshit gave me a load of crap “

Jensen chuckles . typical asshole .

“ So what will you do when we find him ? “ Jensen quickly puts on his black V-neck T-shirt , boxers and black jeans .

“ We ? thought you told me to do my homework myself , Ackles .” Ty says getting out of the shower , fully dressed .

“ I’m feeling generous today . And hey , the kid went back on his word . He has it coming “ Jensen smirks . the truth is , he has nothing to do for the rest of the day and also , he wants to forget all about the Padalecki boy . He won’t act all jerk towards Osric . In fact , it is much better if he is there to hold Ty back . His friend was 10 times the asshole he was .

“ He is probably in the library .Physics advanced class has this new project , so he is probably researching “ he says packing my gym bag .

“ How the fuck do you know ? “ Ty frowns , folding his shoulders

“ Because I passed its test and they added me to their telegram group “ Jensen mumbles , hearing him gasp .

“ You what ? “

“ Dude , it was an IQ test . I didn’t even study much for it and if it makes you feel better , I haven’t attended a single one “ Jensen snaps , not believing Ty became that much of an asshole that he had to explain himself to him . He just chuckles .

“ Man , I should make you do my homework “ He grins .

“ Bite me “ and he snorts .

___________

“ Thermodynamics are ten times easier than this Shakespeare novel , I swear “ Osric says smiling and Jared chuckles .

Jared met the kid in the library , helping him search for Henry’s gas law reference . And the conversation just kept flowing , mostly about English and Physics . Exchanging information and that kind of shit .

They hear footsteps and they both turn to the source . Jensen Ackles and Tyler Lockwood stand near the entrance and he locks eyes with Jensen , but Tyler moves to their table and grabs Osric by his collar , making him stand up .

“ So , you still think it is a good idea not to do my homework ? “ Tyler hisses in his face and Jared’s eyes widen . So that’s why Misha and Gen hate these two . God . He thought Jensen wasn’t that low .

“ Hey ! Leave him alone “ Jared says stepping closer to Lockwood , who gives him a rather amused expression .

“ Look what we got here “ Tyler says and lets go of Osric , turning his full attention to Jared .

Jared wasn’t at all defenseless . He worked out , he wasn’t as built as Tyler but still tall enough . He knew how to fight , he just hated it .

“ Hey hey ! Back the fuck off “ Jensen’s voice rings across the library and he stands in front of Tyler .

“ Your problem is with Osric. Leave the kid alone “ Jensen says getting in his face . If Jared was in Tyler’s shoes , he would be scared shitless right now .

“ You’re scared of that pussy or what ? “ Tyler asks , clearly irritated .

“ You call him that one more time and you will face me . He is with me “ Jensen snaps .

He shouldn’t stand like a girl , feeling all warm while watching a guy defend his honor , but he does . He feels protected , almost enough to make him forget what kind of douchebag was protecting his ass , or making him blush .

“ Whatever , man “ Tyler pushes Jensen away and storms out of the library .

“ Hey . Are you ok kid ? “ He asks Osric and Jared narrows his eyes .

“ Now you’re all concerned ? “ Jared asks , not helping the small stutter in his words .

“ Look , I didn’t know he was your friend “ Jensen looks at his eyes . and goddamn it is not the time for Jared to stare right now .

“ And it would be ok if he wasn’t ? “He folds his arms . Jensen opens his mouth to say something and then he closes it again . His hands close into fists . Jared can’t help but notice the veins in his arms . Not fucking now .

“ You know what ? If I didn’t step in , your bacon would be toast . so how about a little credit ? “ He snaps and Jared can’t help but flinch . He looks at Jared for a moment then he storms out of the library .

It really isn’t the time to think about how hot Jensen looked while angry . and why the fuck is Jared blushing right now ?

———————

Next update is next week ♥️

Chapter-1

Masterlist

[dreamss-of-boston]

Rise - ch10

link on AO3!

wow thank u all so much for your kind comments and kudos!! they honestly mean the world to me, i'm so glad people out there actually read what i write and enjoy it! this chapter is pretty long, and there's some gruesome parts in here TW: regarding titans and blood and wounds. please proceed with caution if you are sensitive! i didn't mean for this fic to get so violent, so i will be updating my tags.

please enjoy!

[-]

It was the calm before the storm. The sky was the softest shade of blue, the sun still hidden behind the walls as it rose steadily but surely to warm the world. As Sonya lay in bed, her body was still, her mind devoid of any semblance of worry, or any semblance of emotion in general.

She knew she didn’t have to be up for at least another hour; she watched the blank space in front of her as specks of dust floated through the uninterrupted air. She didn’t know what time it was, exactly, but the only important thing she needed to know about today was that she would be venturing beyond the walls for the second time in her life. For some reason, that fact didn’t land completely in her consciousness. She knew what was coming, yet she felt nothing for it.

Sonya refused to picture her past experience. She refused to picture Anna, the titans and their glistening eyes staring up at her from the depths of the forest; no, right now, Sonya was staring at the tan jacket of her uniform, sitting draped over the chair pushed against her desk. The stitching on the left shoulder had to be redone after her first expedition. She wondered if she would have to get anything repaired this time.

She wondered if she would come back this time.

[-]

It was Hange’s idea to leave at sunset; with their limited knowledge of the titans, they had a working hypothesis that their activity was reduced at night, thus (allegedly) making them easier to subdue and capture. This expedition would help them test that hypothesis. If Hange was wrong, and the titans were just as active at night as they were in the day, Erwin had promised both the troops and Darius Zackley that he would terminate the mission immediately in order to ensure the highest survival rate.

Most of the day was spent preparing the horses and equipment; the soldiers all tried to act as casually as possible, all attempting to ignore the fact that their goal was to bring the devil right through the gates to their home. Hange, on the other hand, was buzzing with excitement the whole day as the entire scouting regiment prepared for the expedition.

“Make sure you’re careful with those nets!” She exclaimed as Sonya and Mabel were working together to haul the equipment onto the carts. “Those spikes are meant to really mess a titan up; think of what they’ll do to you!” Hange said with an almost gleeful smile. Sonya and Mabel exchanged a glance. They didn’t understand the captain, but she was quite intelligent and one of the most skilled soldiers on the force, so they didn’t really question her antics much.

Only about one-fifth of the scouting regiment was going on the expedition. Most of the soldiers were volunteers, but Erwin had to assign more soldiers in order to “round out the mission and increase their chances of success.”

But the fact that most of the soldiers assigned were rather talented or had proved themselves useful in otherwise compromising situations gave Sonya the impression that Erwin intended to come back with as many soldiers as possible. In a way, it was reassuring that she was assigned to this mission; it suggested that she was more capable than she thought.

Levi was treating her the same as before, if not colder. But Sonya didn’t try to vie for his attention anymore; she was embarrassed at herself for being so comfortable in front of him in just her underwear four nights earlier, but she didn’t regret kissing him in the slightest. Sonya didn’t regret it because it felt genuine; it felt right. After finding out that she was the wrong daughter, unwanted by the Romanovs, kissing Levi was like being hit by a cold gust of wind. It reminded her that she was still a pulsing, living being, despite whose blood coursed through her veins. Through the haze of her memory, she distinctly remembered kissing him, him kissing her back (fervently), and she remembered asking him if he was disgusted with her.

She remembered that he said no, that he said he had never been disgusted with her: the bastard whore from the Underground.

She also remembered being assigned stable duties on her own for the entire month. But, Sonya was very glad that she didn’t get latrine duties - Peter got to deal with that.

As the sun curved higher in the sky, becoming ever closer to sunset, Mabel and Sonya had decided to eat a late lunch of bread, cheese, and cold meats at the top of the wall. Sonya’s legs dangled over the edge, while Mabel sat cross-legged, sitting back on one hand contentedly. Sonya and Peter had been assigned to the expedition; Mabel and Ada had not.

“Don’t try and be a hero,” Mabel warned. “I’ll never forgive you if you die trying to protect someone like Peter.”

Sonya laughed. “Don’t worry; if a titan comes for Peter, I’ll look the other way.”

Mabel smiled, taking a bite of her makeshift sandwich. The two girls sat, basking in the glow of the sunlight while a slight breeze kept them cool. Sonya watched as a flock of birds soared easily over the walls, dipping and rising with the wind currents.

“Imagine if we invented a way to fly.” Sonya reclined to lay on her back, folding her hands over her stomach. “We could get so far away; we might even find another civilization of people behind other walls. Or, maybe on a giant mountain with a moat of spears around it to keep titans out--”

“You’re crazy.” Mabel said. “You never went to school, did you?”

“No.” Sonya said quietly.

“Well, it’s common knowledge that we’re the last of humanity. Everyone else was eaten by the titans; we’re all that’s left.” She said grimly. “Making contraptions to fly over the walls would be useless; everywhere is overtaken by titans, and it’s all the same wilderness, for miles and miles. Besides, we’re safe here. No titans have been able to break through the walls in a hundred years.”

Sonya didn’t say anything. In a way, Mabel was right; Sonya had never gotten the same schooling as her, and she hadn’t really realized until now just how different their worldviews were. For a moment, she couldn’t understand how Mabel could’ve joined the Scouts if she didn’t believe there was something out there. Sonya loved to entertain the many possibilities of there being life beyond the walls, but Mabel just couldn’t envision such a thing. She wondered for a moment if perhaps Anna would have understood her better.

“What’re you two lovely ladies doing up here?” Peter’s voice came from their left, and the two girls smiled as he joined them.

“We’re talking about boys,” Mabel said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Ooh,” Peter tore off a piece of bread for himself as he sat next to Sonya. “I have a crush on Max Petersen!” He batted his eyelashes as Mabel and Sonya laughed.

“Hey, Max is probably the prettiest person in the whole Scout regiment.” Mabel said.

It was true. Max had dark russet hair, golden smooth skin, and eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day. He was tall, unironically kind, and had the most charming smile and personality to match. It was almost infuriating, how he was both beautiful and a joy to be around.

“Max is a person I could see myself dying to protect.” Sonya decided.

“Max could step on my throat and I’d say, ‘thank-you.’” Mabel said, a little too seriously. The three soldiers burst out laughing, and for those few minutes on the top of the world, bathing in sunlight with a cool breeze, they could forget the prospect of death hanging over their heads.

[-]

Sonya ran her hand along Chuck’s strong neck, his soft fur calming her nerves just slightly. Long shadows of the walls were cast from the setting sun, dropping the temperature drastically; the corps were a sea of green, as everyone had opted to wear their cloaks. The time to begin the expedition had come, and Sonya and the rest of the soldiers were prepping their horses and equipment before the official departure. She bit her lip as she sighed, inadvertently glancing around to try and spot Levi’s black hair. Just as she turned, she caught his eye across the rows of other scouts and their horses; he seemed to have been looking for her, too. She lowered her head, silently pleading him to come over to her.

He started to turn away, though he kept his gaze on her. He must’ve let out a scoff, because she saw his resolve crumble as he made his way over to her, careful not to act like he wanted to be by her side.

“Did you buckle your saddle correctly this time, brat?” He said irritably, inspecting Chuck’s saddle.

Sonya felt a smile tug at her lips; she pressed her finger against them, unable to forget how she had kissed and held the man in front of her just days ago. She wanted so badly to embrace him now, to feel his heart thump against her own in order to drown out the world around them. Levi glanced at her, and studied her closely. His gaze fixated on the frizzy curls which poked out and framed her face.

Almost without realizing it, his expression softened as he reached out, wrapping a strand of curled hair around his index finger gingerly. She felt her heart leap in her chest at the contact. His lips slightly parted as he gazed at the brown lock, but just as quickly as his hand was there, it was gone, and he had glanced away from Sonya to look at Chuck.

She was so irritated at his actions. Why did he just do that? Was he thinking of the same experience they had shared, as she was? Sonya reached out and grabbed his hand under his cloak, forcing him to look at her. She needed physical contact with him, to feel the validity of warmth in his hand; she needed to know if he still felt anything for her. He was forced to look back at her, irritation quite evident on his face, but when he saw the silent plea within Sonya’s expression, his demeanor changed.

Levi’s expression softened into that familiar look he had when it was just the two of them, no subordinates or officers around for him to keep up his hardened reputation for. He stepped closer to her, entwining his fingers with hers, their scouting cloaks hiding their affection from the rest of the world. Sonya wished she could kiss his stupid face so that she could pull him out of hiding; she knew he had compassion in him somewhere. It was astounding how much affection she held for him; she couldn’t deny how much joy it gave her whenever he looked at her as if they shared some secret, like two outlaws getting away with a crime. What they were sharing now was a welcome change from his cold attitude thus far; it gave her hope, and encouraged her to feel more for him if they could share more moments like this.

He ran his thumb over her knuckles, and she squeezed back. She understood that they couldn’t exactly be public; she wasn’t even sure if he shared the same feelings as her. In fact, gazing into those cold, gray irises, Sonya started to suspect that, as far as Levi was concerned, she was just a pretty subordinate he could mess around with in order to get out a little tension. She felt a string pull on her heart at the thought of that; and in just a moment, he was gone from her side, and her hand was cold once again.

When he turned and left, his expression was back to the same old, bored and irritated Captain Levi. Sonya’s hand dropped limply to her side. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she was right. Why else would he ignore her for days-- weeks on end, only to suddenly kiss and touch her when she was drunk and half-naked?

She crossed her arms, biting back tears. What a wonderful thing to realize just before heading on the most dangerous expedition she’d ever been on.

“Sonya, what’re you doing? We’re all getting ready to go to the gate.” Peter got on his horse, completely unaware of the whirling mess of thoughts inside Sonya’s brain. She took a deep breath. This wasn’t the first time she had been deemed invaluable according to a man.

As Sonya mounted Chuck, she took hold of the reigns with a forced calm. Very well. For the moment, Sonya accepted her role as a simply physical outlet for the man she had come to care for. Perhaps she could sway herself to see him the same way, and avoid getting hurt even further. Her gaze drifted ahead of her, where Levi was waiting with Oulo, Eld, and Gunther. She refused to think of how poised he looked; she refused to think of how good it felt to tangle her hands in that black hair, to trail her finger down his neck and along his collarbone.

With a huff, Sonya steadied Chuck, who was growing impatient at standing and waiting for so long. She refused to let her personal situation get in the way of this expedition; it was far too important. So, as hard as it was, Sonya shoved all of her overly-analytical thoughts to the back of her brain, and focused on everything presently in front of her.

The sun was dipping lower in the sky; the gate was opened, Erwin gave the command, and the expedition began.

[-]

“Why'd this stupid mission have to be at night…?” Peter grumbled as he clumsily ascended a tree near Sonya, who was already perching on a large branch. The moon was full, so the Scouts were able to see relatively well without the help from the torches. Still, the fact that the mission was at night did give them a disadvantage at spotting titans early, and so they had proceeded with the utmost caution up to their current point.

They were in a large clearing deep within the forest; the moon was just above the tree line and so it was able to shine down on them to give the scouts enough light to pounce on a weary titan. While Sonya set up the torches on the branch she was currently on, she was caught by surprise when Peter swooped over to help her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping set up equipment?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I figured I could-- uh, help you out first.” Peter said, sheepishly lighting a torch.

Sonya didn’t say anything, she just cast him a look. “... Okay, well, put it on the next tree over, ‘cause this one already has enough light.”

“Right. Okay.” Peter flashed her a thumbs up, but stalled in his leaving. “Um--”

“Wagner.” Levi’s call came from two trees over. He was standing, apparently speaking with Oulo, when he noticed Sonya’s and Peter’s interaction. He was glaring something fierce at Peter; it even sent a chill down Sonya’s spine. “Do as you’re assigned; she doesn’t need your help.”

Peter gulped. Sonya shared a glance with Levi, who was clearly irritated at Peter for wasting her time. When Levi turned back to continue his conversation with Oulo, she looked back over to Peter, who handed her the torch back, descending quickly to go do his actual job.

It didn’t take long for everything to be set up. The soldiers all mostly worked in silence, the soft light of the moon casting a peaceful quiet over the anxious humans puttering about in the forest. There was hardly any wind, so Sonya’s torches were burning brightly, illuminating the clearing fantastically.

And so they waited. Erwin and Hanji were so tense, Sonya thought they might burst at any moment. Levi was still calm-- on the outside, at least. She couldn’t help but admire how poised he was, standing in wait on the branch just adjacent to her, his blades drawn and at the ready.

The waiting seemed to go on forever. Sonya couldn’t help but pace in her small area, unsure if she should unsheath her blades, as well.

“Perhaps we should go out and lure one in--?” Hanji began, but stopped short when the chillingly familiar sound of footsteps startled everyone into a tense silence.

Now, Sonya unsheathed her blades. The thumping continued, getting closer, louder with each step. Her heart was hammering in her chest-- everything that moved within her line of vision was of utmost importance. She strained her ears to try and hear if any other footsteps were accompanying the approaching titan. As far as she could tell, the beast was alone.

Erwin glanced over to Mike Zacharias, who was standing tensely on the branch adjacent to him. He sniffed the air, and raised his index finger-- he could only smell one.

Sonya relaxed a little at that; she could handle one, especially with all of these soldiers-- mostly veterans-- on her side.

The thundering footsteps finally gave way to the view of a towering, nine-meter tall titan. The dead eyes were the same; glassy, unblinking, hungry. Sonya forced herself to take a deep breath as the titan’s gaze landed on her. Could it see her terror?

Could it smell her?

It must have been an Abnormal-- all at once, it actually leapt from the ground and towards Sonya. Even as high up in her perch as she was, the titan was coming for her fast. It didn’t even need to climb the tree to get to eating-level, and soon, she was face-to-face with the monster.

She couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, or see anything aside from the wide expanse of flesh in front of her. Fear had pinned her to the spot. The rank, heavy breathing from the titan extinguished her torch, it swept through her hair, clung to her clothes.

The titan leaned forward, mouth opening slowly to reveal hideously human teeth, rotting breath as hot as a fire-- the same vision Anna must have seen before…

“Sonya!”

One voice cut through the din of silence-- Levi.

With a gasp, Sonya snapped into that familiar numbness of defense. She suddenly had complete control, and in one fluid motion, she pushed backwards, falling off of her branch and away from the titan into the dark forest behind her.

She couldn’t see anything; the potent smell of the titan was distant as she plummeted down and away from the clearing. Sonya shot her grappling hook blindly, hoping it would hit something and stay.

Snap!

Her hook found a home in the dense bark of some evergreen she couldn’t see. Her line went taut all at once, snapping her forcefully from her falling descent to the forest floor. She let out a grunt at the impact-- she suspected she would have a couple new bruises tomorrow. If she made it.

In the distance, she could hear the commotion of the Scouts grappling with the titan, probably finding some trouble with securing it to the platform it was intended to be carried out on. She could see the light of the clearing through the trees, but she had fallen so far, she suspected the floor was not far beneath her. With a few grunts of effort, Sonya swung herself enough to get some momentum to propel her forward. In a brief moment, she laughed to herself at the memory of the disastrous lesson with Levi in which he forced her and her friends to use their gear without their gas.

The thought of her friends was what pushed her forward-- the thought of Levi.

As she began to make her way back to the clearing, she felt a hot, giant hand wrap itself around her leg and yank her down all at once. She yelped in fear, and strained on the triggers of her equipment to stay secured in whatever tree they were stuck in.

Sonya glanced down to see a six-meter-titan staring up at her, hand wrapped securely around her calf. She almost retched when she saw drool spill from its mouth, dribbling down its chin.

She could have sworn she saw a glimmer of amusement when it yanked on her again, harder this time, causing her to strain even more. She was being pulled in two directions-- being held up by her ODM gear, and being pulled down by this hungry monster.

There was nothing she could do.

Well-- one thing.

Sonya held her breath. With all her might, she pulled herself up with the intention of leaping out of the titan’s grasp. She didn’t come free, of course-- but it gave her enough leverage that, when she released the triggers of her gear, she came plummeting down to the titan-- fast.

In one swift motion, she sliced underneath her, severing the titan’s hand from its arm mid-way at the wrist, and she quickly attached herself to a tree, pressing on the gas to propel her upwards at as fast a pace as possible.

She didn’t think as she careened towards the clearing, back to her friends, her comrades. All she could feel was her clammy hands gripping her swords, now steaming from evaporated blood, and her heart pounding in her ears.

The tree she essentially crashed into was home to Levi and Oulo-- she was on the branch beneath them, and the sound of splintering wood accompanied with her yelps of pain made her presence known.

She noticed for a fleeting moment that the titan that had first come after her was successfully restrained, pinned to the platform underneath a net of spikes which Hange had so lovingly made. It wasn’t until she caught her breath, when she looked down at her leg, that she noticed the steaming hand of the titan still gripping her fiercely.

Sonya screamed-- she frantically tried to pry the flesh off, but it was too hot to touch. She couldn’t feel the pain in her leg just then; all she could think of was the hand being there, chaining her, burning her.

“Sonya!” Once again, Levi’s voice was the only thing to reach her. He had descended to her branch, clawed his way over to her.

“Get it off-- it won’t come off!” She shrieked, reaching out for him-- for any of him.

He came to her side, he let her cling to his arm, let her fingernails dig into his skin through the fabric of his uniform. Levi was calm as he looked her over, as he looked at the rotting flesh clinging to her leg.

“It’ll burn her leg too severely--” Mike began.

“I know.” Levi cut him off, unsheathing a sword. His jaw was set-- he refused to look at Sonya’s face, now red and streaked in tears. Levi pried himself from Sonya’s grip, who was now beginning to feel the intense pain of the burning hand, and made his way to her foot. “Hold it down.” He told Mike.

Mike did as Levi said-- Sonya couldn’t comprehend what was to come.

In one clean, precise slice, Levi severed the hand from her leg by cutting at the finger joints. The one thing he didn’t want to happen did, though. He had cut through the titan’s hand, through the durable leather of Sonya’s boots, to leave a long, shallow cut on the front of her calf.

Sonya couldn’t register that specific pain yet-- she was still processing the burn. She gasped at the blossom of red pooling in the cut. She was sure it would spill over the lip of her sliced boot, like a cup of tea that was too full.

Sonya glanced up to Levi, who looked positively horrified at what he’d done. She reached out to him, because it was the only thing she wanted to do, and he reached out to her, pulling her to his chest tightly, desperately.

The pain hit her all at once-- she felt a surge of white heat pulse through her body, and then her vision blurred to darkness.

[kenzieskpopwonderland]

Come Wake Me Up

+ BTS x Rascal Flatts + Come Wake Me Up + What Hurts The Most + Yours If You Want It + Bless The Broken Road + I Like The Sound of That + Here Comes Goodbye + Love You Out Loud +

Warnings: ANGST SO MUCH ANGST

Jung Hoseok sat lifeless on the bed that he used to share with you, his fingers caressing an empty bottle of vodka. The rumpled sheets were almost hidden by various glass bottles that spilled hazardously onto the floor.

“Hoseok! Please come out. You’ve been in there for months!” Namjoon pounded heavily on the door, desperation taking over. The leader had been very supportive at first, always understanding when Hoseok wanted to stay curled up in bed when promotions were over. But that was the first 3 weeks. On the 4th, Hoseok found alcohol. He began blowing off his work: he struggled to learn lyrics or dances and refused to go to any interviews of any kind.

The boys, the managers, and even the fans understood. No one blamed him. His heart had been crushed. But now it was week 7, and the other 6 members could not stand it anymore. Their happy, go-lucky friend was but a shell of his former self. After around of rock-paper-scissors and Jungkook’s complaints at being chosen, here Namjoon was. The boys had decided that enough was enough.

“Hoseok, I’m coming in,” Namjoon used his key to the rooms to unlock the door and stepped into the room. The overwhelming smell of stale alcohol, vomit, and sweat bombarded the leader’s senses. Mixed in with the glass on the floor were clothes, old containers of food, and the broken remnants of the furniture in the bedroom that Hoseok had shared with you.

•••

“Baby, no! We have to make sure it looks really amazing!” You whined to Hoseok as he handed you the ugliest vomit green window curtains. He had supposedly picked them because the super tacky purple daffodils embroidered in the cloth reminded him of your smile. You could tell by his shit-eating grin that he as just messing with you.

“Okay, Jagi! Although I really think that if we decided we want something festive...,” He trailed off, shaking the curtains in his hand instead.

“Oh shush it you!” Hoseok made his way back down the aisle to the next one over where the curtains were. You watched him walk away, admiring his really hot backside. With a smile on your face, you turned back towards the bed comforters. There were yellow ones, purple ones, vomit green with purple daffodil ones, and the prettiest metallic grey quilted silk. You reached out a hand to check the price and to feel. 

“Jagiyaaaa! I think I found some good ones! Didn’t you say you wanted that dark, reddish color for our room?” A bouncing Hoseok hollered from the end of the aisle before quickly running up to you and bear hugging you from the side.

“Maroon?”

“Yeah! That’s it! These maroon curtains are really nice!” Your boyfriend raved, still literally attached to your hip. “They’re that silk that you wanted and here! Rub it on your cheek! So nice, right? And they say ‘sunblocker’ on them so we can sleep in as long as we want and the sun won’t wake us up!”

“Do you really like them that much? You asked, a little confused, taking the curtains from his hands and inspecting them.

“Of course, baby!” Hoseok’s face fell a little as he moved to stand in front of you. “Why? Do you not like them?“

Noticing his face, you quickly tossed them in the cart and grabbed both of his hands. They’re really gorgeous Hoseok. Of course, we’ll have to repaint the walls.” You lifted yourself slightly to meet his lips with yours, his arms circling around your back.

“Why do we have to do that? We already painted it!” Hoseok whispered when you pulled away to where he could still hold you close to him.

“Because I love those curtains and I want them in our room, but we might not get to see this when they blend in with the maroon walls.”

Hoseok laughed as it dawned on him. He gave you a wink, “As long as we get to break in our room soon.”

•••

Namjoon sat gingerly on the foot of the bed, not saying anything about the maroon curtains draped over the foot of the bed. He watched as Hoseok slowly lifted his gaze from the bottle.

“It’s not working. Isn’t the alcohol supposed to make you forget your problems? Why can’t her memories and shit leave me alone just like she did? I don’t want to think about her. I can’t think about her. It hurts too badly. I can usually drink her right off of my mind, but I miss her tonight,” Hoseok asked slowly, hiccoughing as he looked at his leader desperately.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon began softly, noting the tear-stained face of his hyung. “Let’s at least get you cleaned up and out of this room, even if it’s just to the living room.”

Hoseok paled, and Namjoon knew why. It was enough having to see his bedroom, where so many memories were created. It was another thing to see every little thing that she had left behind and have every memory they’d ever made in their home be relived. It had been too much for him too soon. But now Namjoon wanted him to go out there?

Before Hoseok could open his mouth to protest, Namjoon yanked him by the arm, causing Hoseok to drop the bottle onto the bed. It was empty anyway.

He was pulled into the adjoining bathroom where Namjoon quickly turned on the shower and forced him into the stream of freezing cold water. Hoseok screamed and thrashed by Namjoon held tight to the door, not letting the older man out. He took this time to inspect the bathroom. The black tiles under his feet that once shone brighter than Hoseok had become dusty and covered in abandoned clothing and your old beauty products. The white cabinets that you two had spent ages deciding on - Namjoon definitely remembered when his hyung would not stop spamming the band’s group chat with pictures, asking whether this wood was right or not - were covered in Hoseok’s pale foundation and a hint of poorly wiped up vomit. And your pride and joy, the giant tub that you had insisted on was piled up with your clothes, makeup, jewelry, and everything else you left in the house - there were no baths in its future.

Namjoon scoffed in disgust at the tub, pushing Hoseok back under the jet of water as the older man tried weakly to get out,exhausted from the earlier struggle and the alcohol. “Hyung, you better wash up really well, or I won’t let you out of this shower.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” Namjoon just rolled his eyes.

After shoving Hoseok into his last pair of clean boxers and onto the couch in Namjoon’s living room, Namjoon sat next to his lifeless bandmate until he was finally willing to speak. “I don’t know what happened, Namjoon. We were doing so good and she just ... left. Why did she leave me? What did I do wrong?” Namjoon tried to say that it wasn’t anything he had done but Hoseok kept rambling. “And then I was doing so good, but I don’t think it sunk in fully. Now, I can’t take the pain. How does it hurt so bad, Namjoon? I could normally push her right out of my heart - for the band, for the fans - but I’m too tired to fight.”

It was silent for a moment before Namjoon embraced his friend tightly. “It’s like this whole thing just began. She’s still sunk into my veins.”

•••

“J-Hope! J-Hope! J-Hope! Ooh, he’s so sexy! Wow, what a man!“ You cheered loudly as the tattoo artist finished the final touches. Your fiancé had tried to tough it out as best he could so you decided to ignore the tear tracks down his cheeks and the half-moon dents he left in your skin. The two of you weren’t entirely foolish for getting tattoos dedicated to each other. Instead, you decided to dedicate to a memory. Something that even if you broke up, you wouldn’t regret remembering. How could you ever regret the blissful years spent with Jung Hoseok even if they came to an end? That’s why the two of you now boasted a matching pair of shooting stars. Sure, your wish had been that you’d be together forever, but that night with Hoseok, the first time you traded ‘I love yous’, was definitely the happiest night you’ve ever had (aside from every night you fall asleep in Hoseok’s arms) and was something you would never ever regret.

•••

Namjoon saw Hoseok’s fingers tracing the patch of skin on his back where he knew the little star tattoo would be. Hoseok remembered the pain of the tattoo gun piercing repeatedly into his skin like it was new, but that pain could never compare to what he felt now.

“Everything that we were, everything that I said, that I couldn’t, that I didn’t do. Namjoon, why didn’t I do anything? I could have kept her here with me,” The older rapper begged, but Namjoon didn’t have an answer for him.

Tears streamed down both of their eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe,” Namjoon paused, “maybe it’s time to move on.”

•••

“Hobi, you’re never going to love someone else, right?” You asked. You weren’t insecure, you just wanted confirmation!

Hoseok, whose arms were wrapped around your stomach and legs were tangled in yours, looked at you like you were dumb. “You’re so silly! I don’t think I could ever not love you. The only way you’ll get rid of me is when I’m 6 feet in the ground. I promise.”

You smiled up at him, “Good.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped playfully, “I don’t get the same promise back?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” A sinister grin grew on his face as he used his position around you to pin you down and tickle you till you begged for mercy and he relented .... and then tickled you even more.

•••

The heartbroken man stood up, enraged. “I can’t just get over it! I can’t just put out the love like it meant nothing, like I’m still not desperately, hopelessly in love with her! Besides, I promised her that I wouldn’t ever love anyone else!” He started pacing in front of the couch.

“I don’t think that promise matters now. It’s time to move on from her. You don’t have to be with anyone else ever again if you don’t want to, but she’s not going to come back, and you can’t keep living this way.” Hearing this, Hoseok fell to his knees, head in his hands.

“It’s not fair! How could she do this to me? Why did she leave?”

“Hobi-“

“Namjoon. Why can’t I just, I don’t know, sit in her flames and pray?” Hoseok practically begged his friend, the desperation taking over once more.

“Pray for what?”

“That she comes back?” Hoseok closed his eyes tightly to hold on tightly to the tears threatening to stain his cheeks even more. “What else would I want?”

Namjoon sighed, “Praying won’t get you anywhere. She’s not coming back.”

“Why can’t I just be dreaming? Why can’t she come wake me up?”

—

“YES! 3 strikes and you’re OUT!” Hoseok screamed at the TV with the rest of the band. Yoongi even threw some of his popcorn. 3 weeks after Namjoon forced him out of his room, the old Hobi finally started to show himself. At least, he was in a good enough place to watch baseball with the others.

•••

“What kind of call was that, ref? He was clearly on base so what kind of fuckery are you try-mph” Hoseok threw a hand over your mouth, trying to shut you up before the man next to you in the opposing team’s colors punched either one of you out for your... intense...vocabulary throughout the game. When Hoseok brought you to America with the band for their tour, you practically begged him to take you to an actual MLB game. Baseball had always been your favorite sport and, since meeting you, had become Hoseok’s as well. When the game finished, you tugged your boyfriend’s hand, very agitated. “Babe, that whole game was total bull! And can you believe that guy?”

“I can’t take you anywhere, Y/N!” Hoseok cackled. You pouted in response, but he just kissed you, trying to fight the grin.

“Yeah, well you took me to America, took me to this game, took me on Kook’s hotel bed last n-” Hoseok threw his hand over your mouth, laughing.

“Oh my gosh, come on loser. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Your eyes lit up, “Hobi, you know I love you the mostest, right?”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I know the truth. You just love me when I buy you ice cream!” Hoseok threw his arms up, faking a loud sob.

You giggled, “You hit the nail on the head. Wait, wait, no! You hit the ball with the bat!” You cracked up, Hoseok looked at you in comedic horror, complaining how you’ve spent too much time with Jin that you could have spent with him instead.

...

It didn’t matter that Hoseok was yelling, didn’t matter that the other boys were hollering, didn’t matter that they had turned the TV up as loud as they could get it. He couldn’t drown out your voice, he couldn’t forget the countless times the two of you had spent hooting and hollering for your teams. All he wanted was to hold you in arms again, something you made sure wouldn't happen, so he would settle for drowning his sorrows in another bottle and vomiting up his heartbreak. Instead of sitting back down, Yoongi started walking to the door, calling over his shoulder that he was going to have a smoke. Hoseok looked at his bandmates. He couldn’t keep letting his anguish affect his friends, the people who keep trying to straighten him out. “I’ll come with you, Yoongs.”

The air outside was hot and humid, almost worthy of a frying pan. “Holy shit.”

“I know,” Yoongi stood against the wall, cigarette and lighter in hand. “Why aren’t you finishing the game? You used to love watching baseball- oh.”

“You’re right. I did love baseball- do love it. But there are so many memories there. It’s hard.”

Yoongi sighed, “It is hard.”

“Can I have one?” Hoseok asked, surprising both of the men.

“Are you sure? You were never a big fan of these ‘cancer sticks’ and now you want my last one? Oh, how the tides have changed,” Yoongi teased, finding the situation hilarious and slightly ironic.

Hoseok deadpanned, “Maybe not, but I think a cigarette is a better escape than alcohol. Joonie’s all but banned me from any sort of bottle.”

Yoongi sobered up, the playful grin falling from his face at the reminder of the pain his best friend was experiencing and wordlessly handed over the lighter and cigarette pack

Hoseok was still drowning in his grief. The boys had understood at first, anyone would be heartbroken. But even now, they had all moved on and forgotten. And why wouldn’t they have? Why was he the only one still drowning in you? You were probably sleeping right now, it was late after all.

He wondered if you ever dreamed of him the way that he dreamed of you still. No, you were asleep, peaceful, resting. He was curled up in a ball on a porch with a cigarette in hand that he hadn’t even smoken from yet and tears streaming down his face. His best friend sat next to him, no idea to react. Yoongi had moved on, just like you had.

Hoseok numbly felt Yoongi’s hand on his arm, the older man getting back up to go inside. His thoughts were consumed with you, and only you, but were you thinking twice about him?

Hoseok slowly got back up and stubbed out the cigarette’s flame. The dying fire reminded him of himself. He shut his eyes tightly again, and couldn’t help but wish it was all a dream.

—

Hoseok sat on the stage, Jin sat slightly behind him on his own stool, guitar in hand.

“Hi, guys.” J-Hope paused as the crowd roared in response.

He smiled weakly. “So, before anything else, I want to say thank you. Thank you so much. There’s a whole list of things I need to thank you for. From the beginning? Thank you so much for always being so supportive of any relationships we’ve announced. Y/N was so scared that you all would hate her, but you guys showered us both in support. That meant everything to her and I. Some people weren’t as supportive but the overwhelming love that we got was enough. So, thank you. And I took a while off from performing, and I’m sorry about that. But I want to tell you guys thank you for being understanding of my love and thank you for being understanding of my absence.

“I know that Y/N is moving on, and I know I should give her up. I hope you guys can support both of us moving forward. But before we say goodbye, I wanted to sing a song that I wrote, one of many. It’s called Come Wake Me Up.”

•••

“Hey, you know I love you right?” His arms squeezed you from behind, head resting softly on your shoulder.

“Of course I do, silly. You tell me every day.” Your hands left the towels you were folding to come up and hold his hands.

“Oof, I don’t know if that’s enough. Maybe I should tell you every hour, no, every minute.” You giggled and turned around in his arms, landing a soft kiss on his lips. He sighed, content with the thought that you were his forever. The shiny ring he had put on your finger was only confirmation of what he already knew. You were in love and nothing would change that.

•••

Hoseok took in a deep breath. This would be the first time he saw you since, well. It was hard to believe you were here, hard to acknowledge. But here you were. And there he was walking up to you. Maybe he was petty, maybe he was lost in the memories, but he held the bouquet of roses and sunflowers you were supposed to use for your wedding to him.

The elegant stone slab etched with your name and the date of what had become the worst day of his life. The stone was the same marble you had begged him to consider for the counters in your shared place and the ‘aesthetic, trendy’ marble wedding date-thing you had wanted for the wedding.

Everything reminded him of the two of you. And there you were.

“Hey... Y/N.”

He could almost hear your response.

“I know that you can’t hear me, but baby...” Hoseok broke down. He kneeled over the marble stone that you had wanted for your wedding but that you got for your funeral. He clutched the red and yellow bouquet tighter than before, his tears clouding his vision.

“For the past... year, I’ve been trying to believe that this was just a dream. I begged for you to come back, to wake me up. And I wish that you had.”

Masterlist BTS x Rascal Flatts

I’m so sorry it took me forever to post this and tbh the ending kind of befuzzled me a bit but oof oh well.

[bskarsgardfilth]

Broken Pieces | Bill Skarsgård

description: when unsaid things and old problems finally come to the surface

warnings: angst, fighting, relationship drama

It was when you started to lie awake at night, uneasiness sitting in your chest, that you finally noticed it.

You weren’t pretending, so to speak, you just weren’t ever able to put your finger on it; the source of tension between the two of you. And so you had gone on like usual, the humdrum routine of your every day playing out in front of you like nothing was wrong. But it kept eating at you, keeping you up at night with that feeling - the one where you’re sort of suspended between numbness and sadness. It’s almost cancerous in the way that it quietly starts to spread, taking over more and more of the space in your heart as time goes on, thriving off of being ignored and shoved to the back of your mind.

He had been away for too long and sure, you had kept up with the routine phone calls and check ins that you both had down to a science by now, but things were different. He felt too far away, and to him, you felt too hard to reach. Instead of filling you with warmth and love, talking to each other often just left you feeling emptier than you did before the phone calls even happened.

The night was split up into broken fragments of arguments, tears, and moments of shared silence. Old problems were drummed up and delicate wounds reopened. You could both be harsh and biting when it suited you, caustic words tumbling from your lips and hurled at each other from across the room. Pent up feelings that were brewing just below the surface finally reached the boiling point and it all came out in one marathon explosion of a fight. The triathlon of fights, you’d think to yourself.

There had been a moment where he feared it was all over, watching you pull fistfuls of his clothing from the dresser drawers, throwing them onto the bedroom floor in a blind rage. The sight of it had struck this sickening kind of fear deep within him and he reached for your arms, pulling you away from the dresser and into his chest in an attempt to stop it all. What are you doing?!?

You had both been quietly harboring resentment towards one another. You silently blaming him and his career for the distance between the two of you - him silently blaming you for stubbornly choosing to stay at home over going with him to his filming locations. The problem is that sort of silent resentment starts to take over, creeping into the warm corners of your relationship where love used to bloom, painting it black and leaving a cold shadow in it’s wake. And once it has taken over every corner, filled up every room until there’s no space left, there’s nothing else for it to do but spill over and out into the open - and that’s what had happened tonight.

He had been home on break for a couple of weeks and you had both been tiptoeing around each other for days, tonight being his last night before taking off again in the morning. Your relationship had been pushed to the edge and all it took was one off-hand comment for it to send the whole thing tumbling over. A snide remark that launched the two of you into an hours-long screaming match - dredging up every old issue that was ever pushed to the side and never fully dealt with - until he snapped, throwing a fist out in front of him and into the mirror hanging above the mantle on the fireplace. “FUCK,” he doubled over, clutching his hand to his chest, blood dripping onto the white rug below his feet.

The moments following that were somewhat of a blur - a flurry of expletives leaving his mouth as you tried to get him to let you look at the damage done to his hand, guiding him to the bathroom, both of you avoiding broken shards of glass underfoot, panic welling in your chest.

Now here you were, kneeling beside him on the bathroom floor, holding a towel tightly around his hand to stop the bleeding. Neither of you were looking at each other and the blanket of silence that fell over the room was so deafening, you could have sworn you almost felt it seeping into your bones. That is, until his voice broke it, cutting through the hum of the bathroom fan above your heads, almost causing you to jump.

“I broke your grandmother’s mirror. I know how much it meant to you, I’m so sorry. I-I’m going to replace it, I promise,” he mumbled. “I made a mess - fuck. There’s blood on the rug. I’ll replace that too - um, you still have the receipt from when we bought it? Doesn’t matter, I’ll find the right one-“

“Bill, it’s ok. I’m really more worried about your hand right now, you might need stitches,” you said, cutting off his rant.

“What? N-no, I’m fine. The cut isn’t that deep, it’s fine. I’m going to replace it, really-“ he continued on, unsure of what else to say, how else to start mending this mess that you both got yourselves caught up in tonight.

“Bill, stop. It’s ok. It’s ok,” you assured him, hands reaching up to cup the sides of his face, looking into his eyes to try to get him to calm down.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have acted like that. I lost control of myself, I’m sorry,” he repeated, eyes trained on the ground, avoiding your gaze. The guilt that washed over him as he played over the events in his head made him feel awful, and he just wished he could rewind back to when his hand wasn’t throbbing and his head was still clear. Or maybe all the way back in time to the beginning, before things were so messed up that neither one of you could barely speak to each other without tossing a backhanded remark into the mix. “When did we turn into this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The look on his face broke your heart and you couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes as you searched your mind for an answer. “I don’t know,” you told him, hands dropping into your lap as you sat back against the wall. The room went quiet again and your mind was racing with the last things he said before glass was sent shattering to the ground, his words playing on a loop in your mind. You act like this relationship doesn’t mean a fucking thing to you anymore, like I’m not important to you at all. Why won’t you meet me halfway?

This time it was you who spoke up first, breaking the silence. “It’s not true, you know. What you said about us - about you not being important to me.” You lifted your gaze to meet his and you could see his green eyes had glazed over as well. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” You asked, tears spilling over now.

He glanced at you before closing his eyes, shaking his head and trying to get his thoughts straight in his mind before he spoke, “I just don’t understand it. I don’t understand how you can blame m-“ he stopped himself, not wanting to say anything that might cause another argument. He didn’t have any energy left in him to keep fighting. “Every time I ask you to come with me, you choose to stay here. I understand that you want to stay at home, in a familiar place with familiar people… but I wish that just once you’d let me be your home instead.”

“Bill…,” you didn’t know what to say to him. You knew he was right, you couldn’t blame his career for your loneliness when he was always begging you to come with him. It was just an excuse, an easy out. A way to avoid the real problem - you. “I’m sorry,” was all you could think to offer him.

“What are you so afraid of?” He asked, eyes searching yours for an answer.

It was your turn to shake your head, not quite sure of the answer yourself. “That it’s not going to last? That I’m going to let myself get too comfortable here, with you, only for you to get too busy or meet someone more-“

“More what? How could I possibly meet anyone that would be more interesting, beautiful, sexy, smart, independent, more frustratingly stubborn, or more important to me than you?” he asked, cutting you off.

“I’ve just been hurt too many times. They always leave me for someone else in the end. They always find someone better…” you trailed off, sobs threatening to break out again as you recalled the pain you’ve gone through in your past relationships. The pain that, you were starting to realize, you probably always brought upon yourself. “I’m never enough,” you whispered.

His heart sank, looking at the woman he love curled into herself on the bathroom floor, hearing the pain in her voice as she spoke aloud the feelings she kept buried away. All he wanted to do was pick up every broken piece of you and put it back together, hold it in place with his love, assuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere. “You are the only thing I need. You’re everything to me, but I can only show you that if you let me,” he said. He kneeled down on the tile floor in front of you, eyes trained steadily on yours, “Please let me show you how much you mean to me.”

You fell forward into his chest and let him hold you, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he stroked your back, and you stayed there until you heard him mumble a soft “I love you” into your hair. You pulled back and looked into his eyes, grabbing a light hold of his face and studying his features for a beat, thumb grazing over the indentation on his cheek. “I love you too,” you told him, and you pressed a soft and meaningful kiss to his lips, trying to translate all the things you felt for him into this one gesture, though you knew it would never be enough.

Eventually you both had to pull yourselves up off the floor, and address the mess that was left in the living room. You bandaged up his hand, and as the two of you picked up the shards of broken glass from the floor together, you couldn’t help but think to yourself that you were picking up the broken pieces of your relationship as well. This sentiment stuck with you as he pulled you backwards on to the mattress with him later that evening. You took quiet comfort in the warmth and familiarity of each others bodies - both of you needing the others embrace to heal your wounds, despite being the ones who caused them - and as you fell asleep that night, you felt as though you could breathe again for the first time in months.

When he woke up the next morning, arm reaching out to grasp the empty sheets beside him, he felt panic shoot through his chest. It wasn’t until he was descending the stairs to the smell of fresh coffee brewing that his breathing settled, relieved to see that you were still there with him, that you hadn’t run away. As he padded over the kitchen floor to greet you with a good morning kiss, something caught his attention by the front door. Your suitcase, stacked neatly atop his, was sitting in the foyer. He looked at you, confusion tinting his features as the panic came back for a moment, trying to work out why you would have packed a bag.

“I’m coming with you this time,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck and nodding towards the kitchen table. He looked over and saw a plane ticket with your name on it sitting next to the coffee mugs you had laid out. “You said that you could only show me how much I mean to you if I let you. So, this is me letting you do that. This is me trying to meet you halfway,” you explained. 

He pulled you in and kissed you so deeply you felt your head start to spin. He was beaming from ear to ear with the biggest smile you’d seen on his face in a long time, and you knew that this was the right choice. If you wanted to get back to where you were when this relationship started, you needed to open yourself up to him again, you needed to trust him - and you did. You knew that your heart would be safe in his hands. As long as the two of you were together, you could begin to mend the broken pieces.

Tagging: @skrsgards @bebetriste @billieskars @spacemerlady

If you want to be tagged/untagged in future posts reply or send a message!

[the-redhead-who-writes]

Sweet Spells

"Marvin unwittingly unleashes his rabbit in the Septiceye House, and with it, a spell that leaves the residents reeling." A fluffy, sappy Love Potion AU fic that I wrote with zero sleep under my belt.

Alright dorks, this one is a doozy. 

Written as a thank-you for @freckled-words who spoiled us recently with a fic called Lovely Mess, this story features magic, mayhem, and a couple of Jacksepticeye’s egos. I’m still getting my feet wet when it comes to writing for this fandom, so feedback is welcome! Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! 

Links: AO3

Marvin had noticed Bunny acting strangely disobedient the past few days; refusing to cooperate during tricks, chewing the bars of her cage at night, hiding from him around the house. He was getting fed up, so naturally, he decided a little attitude adjustment was in order.

After finding her sulking behind the couch, Marvin took her back to his room and set her back in her cage. She watched him grumpily as he began flipping through his spellbook, skimming the pages before coming to a lengthy passage about correcting behaviour. Wincing at the numerous chapters, he chose the first spell he saw at random. What could go wrong?

Taking out his magic wand, he cleared his throat and pointed at Bunny, reading the unfamiliar incantation in a measured voice.

Pink smoke filled the room with a bang, smelling of sweet, burnt sugar. Marvin choked on the strange cloud before it dissipated, revealing Bunny’s empty cage… and a door left ajar.

The Magician gulped.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be woken up by the sounds of some new calamity. Shouting, running footsteps, even oddly-coloured green flames licking underneath your bedroom door; you’d seen it all and then some.

But today, you just weren’t in the mood.

Sniffling miserably under the mountains of blankets on your bed, you cursed your cold. With your nose plugged and head pounding, you were already having a decidedly crappy morning when a loud boom sounded in Marvin’s room upstairs.

Figures.

You groaned into your pillow, sluggishly rolling out of bed. Opening the door, you arched a brow at a trail of bright pink mist floating through the hallways. Hesitantly, you lowered a hand to touch it. When nothing seemed to happen, you guessed it was safe enough and headed to grab an Advil before interrogating Marvin.

The mist was in the bathroom too, floating around your feet in small clouds. You had half a mind to wonder about it, but then a fluffy streak shot out at you from behind the shower curtain. You yelped, instinctively grabbing it before recognizing the trembling form as Marvin’s rabbit, its fur sparkling with an unnatural pink sheen.

So Marvin’s practicing some new trick, you thought dryly. Poor thing…

You maneuvered the bunny to cradle it against your chest. After taking something for your headache, you hummed soothingly to the shaking creature as you headed downstairs to the kitchen.

There you found Chase, sprawled across the living room couch, snoring loudly with the television blaring. You grinned at his squished face; no doubt he’d crashed after staying up too late during one his gaming sessions.

You put Bunny down on the loveseat and waded through more pink fog to turn off the TV. Then you heard rustling, and when you turned back around, Chase was sitting up, groggily rubbing his eyes with a major case of bedhead. His hat must’ve fallen off while he was sleeping.

He stifled a yawn, and you chuckled. “Morning sleepyhead.”

Chase blinked, looking at you hazily. “…Hey, (Y/N)…”

You rolled your eyes. “What were you playing this time; Mario Kart or Overwatch?”

“…Mario Kart. I’m stuck on Rainbow Road.”

You laughed at how out of it he sounded, moving to pull open the curtains. “Fair enough. Maybe I can help later? I’m a bit rusty, but two heads are better than one!”

There was no response, and suddenly a weight slammed into your back. You gasped as arms encircled you, a warm body pressed flush against yours. 

“Chase…?”

The man behind you sighed, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Do that again…”

“Uh… do what?”

“Laugh. I freakin’ love hearing your laugh, man…”

Confused, you turned around in the Ego’s embrace to stare at him. “You’re more tired than I thought. Maybe you should go lie back down for a bit.”

Chase pouted. “Noooo, I’m fine. I just wanna hear you laugh, that’s all!”

He smiled innocently, then his fingers moved to your sides.

Your eyes widened. “Chase, no, don’t-!”

A giggle burst from your lips as Chase prodded your stomach through your pajama top, tickling you without mercy. You laughed yourself breathless, squirming in his grip until he finally relented.

You panted, annoyed and flustered. “What... the heck… was that for?”

The hyper-Ego just grinned, looking extremely pleased with himself as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “You’re really cute, lookin’ all red like that!”

You gaped, mind reeling. “Ok, seriously, what’s going on? Are you and Marvin pulling another weird prank?”

Suddenly his smiled vanished, and he loosened his hold on you. You took advantage of the opportunity, slipping out of his grasp as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, frowning.

“Why are ya thinkin’ about Marvin, huh? What about me?”

Your eyes bugged. “Nope, that’s it. Something’s wrong with you.”

Grabbing Chase’s wrist, you headed upstairs, the Ego trailing behind you. He seemed contented again now that you were holding his hand.

“Where are we going?” he asked excitedly, and you shook your head exasperatedly.

“To see Schneeplestein. I think you caught my cold and it’s messing with your brain.”

Chase whined, tugging on your hand childishly. “I said I was fiiiiine. I don’t want you to be hanging around that weirdo Doctor!”

You turned your head at his words with a scoff. “You’re possessive when you’re sick.”

Chase just blinked, staring at you unabashedly as you both climbed the stairs to knock on the Doctor’s bedroom door, passing through more of those pink clouds.

You knew it was still early, so you were a little surprised when Schneep actually answered, flinging the door open in a rush.

He was already dressed in his lab coat and hat for some reason, with his stethoscope hanging around his neck and his surgeon’s mask covering his mouth.

“Vhat, vhat iz it?” the German snapped irritably.

“Sorry Schneep, hope we aren’t bothering you,” you apologized quickly. 

The man blinked, almost as if he hadn’t realized you were there. “Ah, it iz you (Y/N)..." 

You frowned, taking in his disheveled appearance. “Is... everything ok?”

Schneeplestein shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose above his glasses. “Nein, it is fine. I… I vas just running some tests.”

“‘Tests’? What happened?”

The Doctor irritably yanked off his hat and mask, shoving them in his coat pocket. “I do not know, though I fear something iz not quite right vith me.”

Your features coloured with sympathy and you let go of Chase, ignoring his whines. “It looks like there might be a bug going around. Anything I can do?”

The usually stoic Ego opened his mouth, then closed it, cheeks tinting red. “Zat is… very kind of you. Please, come in.” He stepped back into his room and you dragged Chase inside.

Schneep was already in full swing; a heart monitor beeped steadily, his eye-chart pulled out, and his computer was churning out statistics at a blinding speed. It looked like he’d been running a full-diagnostic on himself.

You bit your lip. “Chase, can you wait over there for just a second?”

Chase nodded, eagerly moving to sit in Schneep’s desk chair. “Totally! But you won’t take too long with him, right?” He cocked his head to the side like a puppy, and you resisted the urge to ‘aww’.

“We’ll work as fast as we can, right Doc?” You grinned over your shoulder to see the German man skimming over a long print out. At your words, his grip on the paper tightened.

“Yes… of course ve vill.”

Satisfied, Chase beamed. You left him to lean over the Doctor’s shoulder and peer at the sheet in his hands. “Is that your heart rate?” you asked, and Schneep jumped at your nearness.

“Uh, yes it iz. However, I have noted it to be irregularly fast.”

You hummed in agreement. “We should figure out when you first started feeling sick, and what other symptoms you’ve developed. Then we can compare them to Chase, and see whether or not you’ve both got the same thing.”

Schneeplestein nodded distractedly, turning away from his computer. “Vell, I vas fine this morning vhen I first voke up, but soon after, I began experiencing shortness of breath.” You nodded, and he continued. “My thoughts vere muddled, and I struggled to focus.”

That definitely sounded like Chase.

“Any coughing, or sneezing? Maybe a headache?” you questioned.

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair agitatedly. “Nein, nothing like zhat.”

“Hmm…” More on impulse than anything else, you lifted a hand to his forehead. “Well, you definitely feel flushed, and you do look a little red.” You peeked over at Chase, thinking for a moment, when suddenly you found yourself being whirled around and backed against the computer desk.

Schneep’s gaze was piercing, the hand you’d had against his forehead now held tight to his chest.

You squeaked as a gloved hand came up to cup your chin, keeping your eyes locked on his. “Schneep, w-what are you-”

“Vhy do you make me feel this vay?” The question was abrupt, whispered in a low, hoarse voice. “My heart drums vhen you are in my thoughts… in my sights. Vhen you valked in with him,” he spat, seemingly disgusted by even mentioning Chase, “Vhy did I have the urge to pull you close to me?”

You swallowed, free hand gripping the edge of the desk. “Schneep, wait, you’re not thinking clearly! You-you’re being affected by whatever Chase has!”

Schneep blinked, and he let go of your wrist to tuck a piece of your hair back. “You are alvays so kind… Assisting me vith my vork… Vorrying about us… Your brilliance is matched only by your beauty, liebling…”

His tone was sincere, almost reverent, and your breath stuttered to a stop as he leaned in closer, closer, closer…

A thunk, and Schneep recoiled slightly, growling, “Can’t you tell vhen you’re not vanted, boy?”

He addressed whom you could only assume to be Chase, and you saw out of the corner of your eye the other Ego was standing behind the two of you wielding a… tissue box?

“Back off man! You’re freaking them out!”

You nearly sagged with relief. Thank you, Chase!

“And they’re with me, so don’t bother trying anything lame.”

Never mind.

Slowly, Schneep pulled away. “You truly zhink you are a more deserving man zhan myself?”

Chase scoffed, already shouting something back, but you weren’t paying attention anymore.

You had no idea what was going on this morning, but the one thing you did know was that you needed to figure it out.

Alone.

With Schneep and Chase distracted by… whatever it was they were yelling about, you quickly snuck past them, quietly pulling the door shut behind you. Then you were rushing down the hallway, back towards the direction of your room.

Just as you turned the corner, you collided with a firm chest. You groaned, headache spiking before looking up, and your stomach sank. Anti was glaring down at you with an unreadable expression.

“Uhh, hi Anti…”

A sneer from the man now towering over you. “Going somewhere?”

“Oh, you know, just back to my room…” You smiled meekly before slipping past him. Or tried to, anyway. His hand slammed against the wall beside your head, effectively pinning you in place.

You sucked in a breath, and Anti leered at you. “What’s your hurry?”

A tremor shuddered through you. Normally you were on decent terms with the demon, but you weren’t an idiot; you were well aware of his power.

“A-Anti? Are you ok?”

The demon growled, his smirk vanishing. “Don’t fuck with me!” His voice rose and fell in pitch as his form began to glitch spastically. His eyes scanned your face, a swirling vortex of blues, greens and inky black. "͉̩̭̜͍ͅWh̦͓̲a̰̻t͇ d̲̱̣̥ḭ̣̗̘d̤̻̝̳̦͍̺ ̦̮̤y̥̗̼͖̭o̦̤͉̺̦̱u̘̞̹͖̫͓ ͎̘͖͇d̲̮̖̘͕o͕̦̩?̭͙"̩̲ he hissed, rage marring his features. "̯̠͚̭͕̗͍T̪͚e̠̖l̳̤͔l̰͚̱̮̦ ̩̞m͓e̮̬̳͉͎!̟̬"

You paled. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Anti laughed, cold and high-pitched. “Don’t play games with me! I’ve watched you scurry around the house with that idiot and ‘ze good Doctor’,” he mocked, grinning widely. “You’ve got them wrapped around your fingers…”

His breath was hot on your neck, lips trailing over your ear. “And now… you’ve done something to me… “ A hum against your skin, and another giggle. “You smell different today… so sweet.”

You froze, having no idea what to do. You couldn’t possibly overpower him, and there was no way you could slip out of his vice-like grip. You clenched your hands, trying to think on the fly, when suddenly a red handkerchief appeared over Anti’s eyes.

“What the fuck?!”

“(Y/N), THIS WAY!”

The demon snarled furiously, reaching up to claw at the makeshift blindfold. It held tight, and you took the opening, dashing down the hall to the only open door - Marvin’s room.

The door swung shut as soon as you made it in, and you leaned against the frame, sinking to your knees as you gasped for breath.

“Are you hurt?” Marvin’s soft, concerned voice made you look up. The Magician was anxiously wringing his hands, peering down at you from behind his usual cat mask.

You nodded briefly. “No… no, I’m ok.”

Marvin sighed, a relieved smile on his face. “Good, I-I’m glad!”

The temporary moment of peace was forgotten as you stood up, rounding on him.

“What did you do Marvin?!” you accused, “Between the explosion from this morning, that weird mist everywhere, and your rabbit's new dye job, I know you had something to do with it!”

You paced back and forth, rambling off the top of your head despite the growing pressure behind your eyes until Marvin finally clapped his hands onto your shoulders with a guilty look.

“Alright, so I guess you could say I played a part, but really, it’s not all my fault!” 

He hurried to the corner of his room and unlocked his rabbit cage. He presented Bunny, who was still as pink as she’d been earlier.

“She hasn’t listened to me for over a week now, and I was at my wits end! So, I thought maybe-”

“Maybe a little magic would fix it?” you deadpanned, and Marvin flushed under his mask.

“I’m sorry... I really didn’t mean for any of this to happen to you.” He toyed with the hem of his cape, and your scowl faltered. 

Ugh, it was nearly impossible to stay mad at him!

With a defeated sigh, you took Bunny from Marvin’s arms, scratching her behind the ears. “Ok, Bunny training aside, we really need to undo the effects of your spell and fast. Any ideas?”

Marvin instantly perked up. “Actually, yeah!” He led you to his desk, where a dusty book sat opened to a marked page. “This is the spell I cast originally, and obviously, it didn’t quite work.”

“Obviously.”

“Heh, yeah… Well, turns out it’s actually a spell used for intensifying emotion! I’m not too sure how it works, but it mentions something along the lines of ‘clouding one’s mind using the senses.’” Marvin’s brow furrowed. “The air did smell really sweet after I performed the incantation…”

You shrugged as best you could with Bunny in your arms. “I’ll have to take your word for it; my nose is so stuffed up I can’t smell a thing.”

Marvin gaped. “So that’s why you weren’t affected!! With your cold dampening your sinuses, you were immune!”

“Good for me. Now, the cure?”

“Oh, well, there isn’t a clearly marked reversal incantation, but since that’s the case, I’m thinking all I’ve gotta do is read the spell backwards!”

You bit your cheek, hesitant. “You really think that’s gonna work?”

He shrugged. “It’s kinda all we’ve got to go on here.”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and an overlap of voices.

“Babe? You in there?”

“Marvin, open up! We know (Y/N) is vith you!”

“͓̯̰̮͈̤͕̽ͬͯͥ̽̓C̮̝͓͗ò̭͕̩͈͉̪̓̽ͪ̈́m̖͊͗͆̽ė͇͖̓ͦͤ ̺͈͍ͮͦȯ̘̻̿̆̈n̠̳̋͋̾͌ͪ̄͒ ͕̙o̲̮ͫ̇ͯṵ̄̀̿͗̍t̝̃̎͗̈́̀͋!͍͉͓͚̤̱̳̈ͬͥ̿̇ͬ̚ ̠͐ͤͥNͧ̎̌ͯ̓̎ͫo͐ͥw̫͚̩͙̹͇ͥ́h̔ͦ̃̃͑̆é̗ͩͩ͌̚r̮̘̯̹̉e̪͈͍̞͈̹̜̎ͦ͂̏̄ ͔̙̫̏͌͋ͨ̃ͫ̈́t̠̥̂ͬͬ̈́ͭo̙̹̩ͨ̃͋ͪ͋̑͛ ̤̅ͮ̌̓̒̌h͓͈͛̑i̻d͓̳̗̎̂͒̌e̳͉̟̹ͦͮ n̪͕͇͍̮̅ͨo̓ͯͧw̞̦̥̗̾ͯ͐͂ͭ̇!̜̝͕͍͑̄͗̂”̮̬͌

Your eyes widened and Marvin quickly waved his hands, sending his card table flying across the room to barricade the door.

“Looks like we’re short on time!” Marvin laughed nervously, and you dropped Bunny on the bed, grabbing the book and shoving it in his face.

“READ!”

“UH, YEAH, RIGHT.”

He took the book from your hands and started reading, working slowly so as to avoid any mistakes this time around. The banging on the door grew louder, and you gripped Marvin’s arm.

“Hurry Marvin, hurry!!” The Magician nodded frantically, before pausing and lifting his gaze to stare at you.

“What?!” you hissed, and a dreamy smile stretched across his face.

“Your eyes are so beautiful…”

Great. Just perfect.

The book was slipping from his grip, and you realized grimly that you were going to have to take matters into your own hands.

Easily yanking the book away from Marvin - who was now openly gawking at you with a sappy, love-struck expression on his face - you read through the foreign text as fast as you could, the pounding outside growing thunderous.

Then, as the last syllable passed your lips, a wave of light rippled outwards from the tome in your hands. The banging suddenly stopped; the house was quiet. The sound of your laboured breathing echoed in the silence.

You turned and saw Marvin out cold on the floor, sleeping soundly. You checked his pulse for good measure, finding it to be strong.

With an exhausted sigh, you collapsed beside him, the book falling to the floor with a thud. You heard snoring coming from outside the door, and the mental image of Anti, Schneep, and Chase falling into one big dogpile had you snickering.

Bunny hopped down from the bed to nuzzle into your side, soaking in your warmth. You smiled, stroking her back.

“You caused a lot of trouble today, you know.” 

The rabbit twitched its nose, and you giggled. “Alright, I’ll talk to Marvin about changing your treats back once he gets up.”

Bunny seemed satisfied with that and nodded off to sleep. You stared up at the ceiling, trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened, when the sound of fluttering paper had you turning your head.

The pages of the tome flipped wildly in a nonexistent wind before falling still around the middle of the book. Curious, you scooted over, careful not to disturb Bunny or Marvin, and read the top passage:

“Love has the ability to cloud one’s mind, dulling the senses. By casting this enlightenment magic, harboured feelings shall be brought to light. Love becomes obsession; indifference becomes hatred. Feelings are not to be meddled with carelessly; as one who practices magic, you should take care to remember this.”

You blinked at the hand-scrawled words on the yellowing paper before falling back, lying spread-eagled on the floor.

The Egos… loved you?

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of this realization striking you fast. 

What were you supposed to do now? Did you ask them? Did you wait to see what they remembered? And more importantly… what did you feel for them?

Marvin’s slight whistling snore distracted you. He looked so at ease beneath his mask, and suddenly, you weren’t worried. Your heart would decide where it belonged.

It might take some time, but you would figure it out. You didn’t need a book to tell you that.

[shiroe-is-my-baby]

A Dance & A Moment

Summary: A dance for each and every f/o, because they freaking deserve it.

W: self-insert, fluff, lots and lots of faves!

((Here’s my faves fic. I included as much of my faves as I could. Some old and some new! You could see which one I REALLY wanted to write in for the first time ever haha. Hope you enjoy my self indulgent mess XD I really liked doing this and I may even do more in the future!!))

“Ashie! Over here!”

I smiled brightly, hearing the familiar chirp of the woman as she approached me. Asuna slipped in front of me, her hand finding mine and pulled me close. “You’re gonna dance with me tonight, right?” She asked with a slight pink covering her cheeks. I laughed, giving her a quick nod.

“Of course! I can’t pass up giving me adorable queen a dance!”

“You’re so sweet, Ash.”

Before I could say another word, I felt a hand on my elbow and another snake around my waist skillfully. There was a voice near my ear, the tone causing goosebumps to dance across my skin. “I think she promised me the first one,” Saeyoung said with a cheeky grin. That comment didn’t sit well with the man to my left, his eyebrow down turning immediately.

Shiroe was actually supposed to be the first one I had danced with. I didn’t promise him, but I knew that he had expected it. We came together after all. Raising my eyebrows, I looked at him with pleading eyes. I didn’t want to start an argument at all tonight. It was meant to be fun, but I knew that Shiroe would be a little jealous. He just had to understand that my heart was for all of them.

But for him the most.

“You won’t mind if I borrow her?”

Oh, he knew.

Saeyoung knew that he’d mind. I could tell by the way he smirked and teased with a waggle of his eyebrows. Shiroe saw this too, trying hard to control his laughter and show that he was slightly upset. He didn’t want to give the red head the satisfaction. Giving a sigh, he leaned against the wall and shook his head.

“No… Go ahead.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring her back later.”

He winked, giving my arm a gentle tug. Rolling my eyes, I giggled at his antics and squeezed Shiroe’s hand reassuringly. When I left I saw him smile happily, and I could tell that he wasn’t too upset. He saw the excitement in my eyes, glowing brighter when they looked at him.

Saeyoung twirled me around, the smile on his face making my heart skip a few beats. The fact that he was looking at me with that look was even worse for my heart. His hand settled on my waist securely, keeping a respectable distance between us. I stayed my hips to the light music that played, but it looked like neither of us really cared about following the beat too much.

I laughed mainly at myself, hearing his chirps and teases at how terrible I was. “You’re not very good at this, are you?” Saeyoung teased, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. Narrowing my eyes, I pinched his cheek and watched him yelp and scowl down at me.

“You act like your any better.”

He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he twirled me once more. “That’s where your wrong, my dear,” He said in a fake, regal tone, “But I’m not sure if you’re worthy enough to see my skills.” I barked a laugh, trying to hold back giggles as he pulled me closer. He dipped me back, causing a yelp of surprise to escape my lips.

Swallowing hard, I felt eyes boring into me watching the entire display with many different emotions. Saeyoung didn’t seem bothered by it at all, leaning down to place a small kiss on my cheek when he lifted me back up. The warmth of his hand on my lower back caused shivers to scatter throughout my body. I bit my bottom lip, feeling my heart hammoring against my chest at both the attention and Saeyoung’s lips that had touched my skin.

I’ll never wash this cheek again.

He smiled thoughtfully, outstretching his arms to spin me forward, grasping my hips and pulling me back towards him. His arms enveloped me from behind, pulling me against him and setting his chin upon my shoulder. We swayed to the music slowly, our heartbeats matching in perfect rhythm. Saeyoung could be a charmer when he wanted to be, but I could tell that he wasn’t trying very hard. Just doing what his heart told him too.

His breath tickled my skin, holding me securely and humming a sigh. “You smell so good,” He said, “Is that a new perfume?” I nodded at his words, feeling my heart fluttering at his close he was. He knew how dangerous it was to do this right now, but he didn’t seem to care. In this moment it was only the two of us. And I really didn’t mind.

“It might be.”

“Can I assume that you bought this just for me?”

“Of course…”

My voice was soft and reassuring. His voice sounded a bit somber, but the smile never left his lips. “I know I should let you go now,” He said, his lips slowly inching closer and closer to my ear. I swallowed, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. It was hard to hide my hitching breaths from him.

“I don’t want to,” He whispered into my ear.

I felt my knees quiver immediately after he spoke, thankful that Saeyoung was there to hold me still. He gave me another peck on the cheek, dropping his arms from me. I figured that he was through, stepping forward to return to my spot near the wall. But before I knew it, Saeyoung scooped me up from my legs, lifting me off the ground.

I yelped, instinctively kicking my legs. He laughed in my ear, the cute grin forming on his face. He placed my arm across his shoulders, holding both of his arms underneath my thighs and carrying me back to my seat. My face was red as a tomato, hand covering my face in embarrassment.

“I’ll hand you off to the next lucky man,” He said with a wink, making my blush darken.

He threw in a quick “or woman” when Asuna glared daggers in his direction. Shiroe was the first person to outstretch his arms in waiting for me. Saeyoung seemed to be handing me off to him until a figure appeared from the corner of my eye and scooped me up in their… big… arms.

My eyes lifted, seeing the deep green eyes that I had missed. Booker’s lips turned into a half smile, dipping down to peck my cheek. “I’m not gonna hold you for long, baby girl,” He said, “Just wanted to have you all to myself.” Swallowing hard, I felt my heart stop and my breath catch in my throat. It’d been so long since I’ve looked into his eyes. I’d missed him more than I thought that I would.

He gently sat me back down onto the floor, asking me for a turn. I nodded instinctively, taking his hand and letting him lead me in the middle of the floor. Booker was quicker to pull me close, leaving barely any room between our bodies. He was more slow, not doing any fancy tricks or swaying me about. He and I danced like we had done many times before.

“It’s good to see you again,” He said, lifting my chin a bit as he spoke.

“Y-Yeah… It’s good to see you too, Booker.”

He kissed my hand, sending shivers down my spine. I felt the heat once again rising in my cheeks, and I began to wonder how many more times I could take this before I became a puddle in the ground. Booker always had a way with turning me to mush, and it felt like ages had past since the last time I relished in a moment with him.

The moment seemed to end a little sooner than I would have liked, feeling a hand at my lower back. “I’m sorry to intrude, but would it be alright if I cut in,” The deep voice shaking me to my core. Lifting my eyes, I heard Booker’s soft words of agreement, as he passed me off into Yami’s embrace. The man smiled, pulling me close and immediately chuckling under his breath.

“You’re very popular tonight it seems,” He said.

“Yeah… it’s kind of… weird, but I’m happy to be with you guys.”

“And we’re happy to be with you.”

He winked, taking my hand and dancing with me a little more extravagantly. Being tossed around was not something I really felt too comfortable with, but eventually I grew used to the idea. Everyone merely wanted a couple seconds with me, and I was more than happy to give it to them. Some I hadn’t spent time with in ages, and others were some I had yet to really indulge in.

Seeing the smiles and hearing the laughter warmed my heart. Everyone was having a fun time, and that was all I had ever wanted. The jealousy was still there, but I tried to ignore that for now. It wasn’t a fierce and battle of affections. It was merely just a tease, playful banter filling the room.

Some were alright with sharing while others were more… dominating. The different personalities had me in a daze, unsure of where to turn. Eventually, I found myself laughing and giggling in the corner with Asuna, Ryuko, and Yugi as they teased me about the nights events. I was all danced out, having taken a twirl with just about everyone in the room.

But there was still one person that I had yet to dance with.

Someone I was saving for this exact moment.

I hadn’t made it a point to reach out for anyone the whole night, but I made my way to Shiroe with determination in my eyes. He seemed to have relaxed in a chair, idly chatting with Jumin and nursing a drink in his hands. I didn’t expect the two to hit it off, but the thought caused a smile to form on my face. It was Jumin’s gray eyes that found mine, his one smile prominent as he sipped his wine.

Raising his eyebrows, he only gave me away slightly before I arrived. “I see you two have found the wine,” I said teasingly, draping my arms over Shiroe’s shoulders. The man tensed for a moment, hearing my voice in his ear and blushing slightly. He chuckled nervously, answering quickly as if I had caught him doing something inappropriate.

“I didn’t-”

“The wine is mine,” Jumin answered without hesitation, his voice calm and smooth like butter, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to serve any. I hope that was alright.”

“No, of course. I expected the drinks to be brought in anyway.”

The two of us shared a quick, polite glance. But Jumin could tell that I was here for the other man. He didn’t seem to mind, having had his dance with me already. He folded one long leg over the other, his eyes flicking from mine to Shiroe’s.

“Would it be alright if I borrowed him for a while?” I asked, as if he would say no.

“But of course.”

The smile turned into a smirk as he motioned with his head for us to go ahead. I tugged on Shiroe’s arm, pulling him up from the chair. My smile was warm and bright, ushering him into my arms. It was much different this time around. I was asking him for a dance. Shiroe was the one thing on my mind all night. I wasn’t being rude to him and ignoring him. I wanted to save the last and most special time for him.

Shiroe seemed a bit surprised and slightly embarrassed, placing his hand on my hips as he stammered. “It’s okay, love. We’ve danced before. Just follow my lead,” I said with a wink. He stared at me for a few more seconds, the surprise fading into happiness. He followed my movements, dancing much more affectionately with me than anyone else had. It was different with him. It would always be different with him.

“I’ve been wanting to hold you like this all night,” He said.

“I know. I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want to show favoritism.”

He nodded in understanding, but I could tell by his eyes that he was still unsure. He needed me to prove it to him. Swaying my hips, I kept my eyes locked on his the entire time we danced. Soft hums escaped my lips, singing along with the tune that played from the stereo. I leaned up and brushed my nose against his, smiling warmly.

When my fingers laced through his hair, I felt the world stop. It was once again only us two. I couldn’t see anything else but him. I bit my lower lip, sighing softly. Shiroe held me tightly, not wanting to let me go. He had shared me throughout the night, but didn’t want to do the same now. I was his and no one else’s. In this moment, we weren’t too worried about that.

No one would dare interrupt his moment.

“I saved the best for last,” I whispered.

I leaned on my toes, giving him a soft and gentle kiss. Shiroe kissed back deeply, humming a sigh against my lips. The night was slowly coming to a close. I had enjoyed the moments with everyone, making sure that they all had my attention at least once. But Shiroe could have it all and more. Every time.

[withoutbringingmedreams]

Eyewitness fic pt. 16 FINAL

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Pt. 7| Pt. 8 | Pt. 9 | Pt. 10 | Pt. 11 | Pt. 12 | Pt. 13 | Pt. 14 | Pt. 15 or AO3 

They can’t talk while they ride, and that’s perfect. He doesn’t have the words right now. Phillip’s arms are so tight around him they’re nearly crushing him, but that’s good, too. He can focus on the pressure, focus on the slap of the air on his skin. Focus on the sound of the wind and the rumble of the engine. Anything but what the hell he’s just done.

He can go on for hours like this. Maybe he will. Except Phillip might actually have to loosen his grip a little before he’s severed in half.

As if in response, Phillip frees one of his arms to point toward an open field they’ve used for filming. Lukas almost ignores him, but now that he’s no longer being squeezed to death, he can’t blame Phillip for the fact he’s still struggling to breathe.

He veers off the road and into the thick green. He’s barely slowed to a stop before Phillip hops off and tears away his helmet, leaving his hair an adorable mess. A mile-wide smile stretches across his face, complete with wind-pinked cheeks.

“Lukas, I can’t believe you…I mean, I know it was kinda vague, but still, I can’t believe you…you just…”

Phillip trails off as Lukas carefully dismounts from his bike. He takes off his own helmet and crouches down, resting his head on his knees.

You can do this. You know how to breathe.

Phillip kneels beside him. “Lukas?”

He’s able to lift his eyes, but his breath hasn’t sorted itself out yet. He watches Phillip’s chest rise and fall and concentrates on making his own match. It’s not that bad, this time. Either he’s getting better, or getting lucky. He falls into a cross-legged position once he’s got it all under control, and Phillip does the same.

“What’s wrong?” Phillip’s voice is low and shaky, the earlier excitement sucked right out of him. 

Nothing is on the tip of Lukas’ tongue. His go-to denial. It’s always worked for him in the past.

Then again, has it?

“Sometimes…sometimes it just gets hard for me to breathe. Stupid, huh? Helen said maybe I should talk to someone about it. Like a shrink or something. Someone who fixes crazy people.”

Phillip puts an arm over his shoulder. “You’re not crazy.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolls his eyes and pushes back the hair clinging to sweat on his forehead. “I mean, you went through worse than what I did, and you’re not going nuts.”

“First of all, I didn’t get shot and lie in a coma for days, so not exactly the same thing. And secondly, the only reason I’m not…” Phillip stops and swallows. “Not ‘going nuts’ is because…I have you.”

Shit, that nearly takes the air from his lungs again. But in a good way, somehow. In the I mean something to the person I love way. And he really cannot stop thinking that L word, can he?

Still, it’s a little hard to believe. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Phillip tugs him closer, into his embrace. “I have you making me go outside, go back to school. Making me remember how to laugh and smile again. Reminding me what being happy feels like.”

He’s really doing all that? Well, damn. That’s a confidence boost. Maybe even more than the one he got from the discovery of his mad blowjob skills. 

“This may come as a surprise to you…“ Phillip’s hand slips into his and they play their dancing fingers game. “But I’ve been through tough times before, without you, and it…it wasn’t good, being alone. It’s much better with you.”

Lukas sighs and presses a kiss to Phillip’s temple. Phillip is a warrior compared to him. “I’m sorry. After everything you’ve been through…you’re amazing, really.”

Phillip shifts in his arms. “I…haven’t always been amazing,” he says quietly. “There were some really shitty moments where I wasn’t amazing at all.”

The words cause a swift plummet back to reality—to the truth of Phillip’s tough times. No matter how hard things ever were for Lukas growing up, he always had food in his stomach and a roof over his head. But Phillip…Phillip’s seen a much darker side of the world.

“Hey.” He gives Phillip a little jostle. “You made it here. That counts for a whole hell of a lot.” 

Phillip lifts half his mouth in a sad grin. “I guess so. And it was worth it. If I actually had…uh, given up any of the times I wanted to, I wouldn’t have met you.” 

Lukas closes his eyes, a desperate but pointless attempt to block out just what given up really means. He can’t think about that, can’t imagine a life without Phillip in it. If any tough times come near Phillip again, he’ll raze them to the fucking ground. It’s his job to protect Phillip now.

“And if I hadn’t met you,” Phillip continues, his smile growing, “I wouldn’t have been there to see you kinda sorta starting to come out to your friends today.”

Oh, right. That. Lukas’ stomach plummets into a whirlpool of sick fear and his breath catches in his throat again. “Huh. Yeah.”

“I mean, I’m not sure they’ll get what you meant—“ 

“They’ll get it. Keith Horner saw us hugging on the roof and the rumors had already started.”

“Oh.” Phillip blinks. He scoots back slightly so he can face Lukas. “So you like, actually came out.” His eyes grow wider with every word, filling with excitement and wonder. “You came out and you told everyone we’re together.”

Shit, he looks so fucking happy. It’s enough to calm some of the storm in Lukas’ gut. This day was coming, one way or another. At least he’s taken charge—kind of sort of accidentally—and impressed the hell out of Phillip. He should really just let them bask in it.

“I don’t think it’s gonna be like how you want it to be,” he blurts out instead. Why enjoy the moment when he can go for Lukas-style awkwardness?

“Huh?” Phillip’s delight is wiped away by a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Great. Instead of celebratory sex, he now has to explain all the deep, dark worries swimming around inside him.

“Out here.” He clenches his jaw and inhales slowly, just to make sure he still can. “It’s not like the city. It’s not gonna be some fairy tale. People are gonna make fun of us and talk shit and be jerks. Not everyone, but some people for sure. Some adults, even.” 

Phillip nods slowly. “Yeah, well, people already make fun of me and talk shit about me, so no real change there.”

“It is for me.” Lukas frees his hand from Phillip’s and sinks it into the dirt. He’ll be strong—for Phillip—but that sure as hell doesn’t mean he’s looking forward to the coming shitstorm. “It’s gonna suck.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Lukas concentrates on digging a hole in the ground, since he’s done just about the same to this conversation.

He can feel Phillip’s sad eyes on him, tracking his progress. “Then why’d you do it?” Phillip asks quietly.

Lukas snorts. “Uh, because I love you.” 

Oh, holy shit. He did not just say that out loud.

Phillip’s jaw drops open and his brows rise up so high they’re lost behind the flop of hair on his forehead.

So…yeah. He’s said it out loud. Perfect.

That sort of shit is supposed to be said in the right moment. And romantically, like it’s super important and meaningful…not with the same tone of voice he uses to say things like duh.

Phillip closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His lips tremble slightly. “Wh-what?”

Well, the damage has been done, obviously, and backing out now would only make it worse. “I love you?” Lukas repeats, only this time it comes out as a question. As in, is that okay? Because that’s how it is.

Phillip launches forward, tackling him to the ground and pinning him with a frantic kiss. His fingers scramble around in the soil until they lock onto Lukas’ and stay there, leaving them pressed together from head to toe.

Their lips are still touching as he speaks. “I love you, too, Lukas. I love you.”

And that’s how you were supposed to say it. With those shining eyes and in that breathless voice. Because hearing those words, that way, made all of Lukas’ insides melt into a puddle of sappy this-is-the-best-moment-of-my-life goop.

Shit, he’s so sapped up he might even cry. A couple of swallows fixes that, luckily, and he manages a shaky smile. “Bet you didn’t think I’d say it first.”

Phillip falls back onto him with another kiss. “You didn’t. I said it first, at the hospital. Before your dad kinda walked in on me kissing you.”

“What?” Well that was slightly terrifying—that his father might’ve known Phillip loved him before he did. “That doesn’t count. I was in a coma!”

“Not my fault you were lazing around like sleeping beauty.” 

“And what, you were trying to help with true love’s kiss?”

“Oh my God, you’re such a dork, Lukas.” 

He can’t let that slide, so he rolls over quickly, taking Phillip with him. Now he’s on top, staring down at the perfect picture that is a laughing Phillip. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Phillip grins up at him, and Lukas’ whole world is in that lopsided smile. There’ll be shitty days, sure, but if at the end of them Phillip can look up at him like this, like he’s actually someone, then fuck everything else. 

He loves Phillip Shea. Phillip Shea loves him. That’s all there is to it. 

He kisses Phillip, long and deep. It makes his legs turn to rubber, and by the way Phillip can only half open his eyes when they’re through, it’s probably doing about the same to him.

“You still wanna go to that party at Simone’s?” Lukas asks, only because he’s pretty damn sure of the answer. “We can if you want.”

“Some other time.” Phillip draws him back in for another tongue-twisting kiss. “Right now, I think I just want to be alone with you. That okay?”

“Hell yes.” Even with all he’s screwed up, he’s played enough cards right to wind up here. With Phillip in his arms, with sex and cuddling and more lazy moments spent kissing in a sunny field to look forward to. It’s almost like he’s got everything figured out.

“Besides, Helen and Gabe want you over for dinner. Said something about explaining ground rules to us or something?”

“Ew, seriously?” Well, almost figured out. “Screw that. Let’s go to the barn instead.” And just in case his message isn’t clear enough, he presses into Phillip’s groin until he gets a reaction—from both of them. Hell, maybe the field is safe enough for a little action.

“Okay, okay.” Phillip wiggles out from under him, cheeks flush. “First one to the bike gets to drive!”

“What? No way!”

He gives Phillip a head start—he has the keys, after all—before taking a deep, full breath of sweet spring air and racing after him.

Well, that’s it folks. Thank you to my 3 to 4 readers XP You guys rock. Still looking for a beta reader/writing partner for original fiction...or maybe just anyone who wants to talk about writing...this has been a quieter fandom than I’m used to.