#we will ignore the the dash is active when i am. supposed to be asleep

[strryskys]

me when the dash is active and my mutuals are online

[sumsebien]

could we perhaps get a honeymoon scene??👀

say my name //prince friedrich

series masterlist

summary: the wedding night/honeymoon we’ve been awaiting all season.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw (18+) yall. heavily so. bad writing (?)

a/n: i am combining this request with another one of their wedding night from @oopsiedoopsie23 ;)))))) this has been ridiculously self-indulgent

When you were growing up, you and Benedict used to sneak out of their country house to play with the basset hounds that Papa used to take out hunting hares. You were forbaded by Mama to stay far away from such gory activities. So you played with the dogs instead. Benedict came with you mostly because he was curious and Anthony refused to wake up early for such childish things. One morning, though, the both of you ran into a rather strange situation. One of the hounds were trying to jump on the other. You and Benedict decided that they were probably fighting and thought nothing of it for a long time.

Until recently, Mama pulled you into your room and discussed with you about your wedding night. She said that she had just had it with Daphne. So you thought it would go much better than how it was supposed to go with your sister. But as you would find out much later in a similar discussion with Daphne over tea, the both of you got the same speech with all the metaphors and the allusions?

Only thing was, you knew a dash more than Daphne at the mention of the basset hounds. You figured that the thing you and Benedict saw must have been the reason for puppies. And that terrified you. It honestly did not look enjoyable in the least. This certainly prompted you to be somewhat distracted on the carriage to your wedding night.

You stared out the window, ignoring his gaze lest Friedrich might figure out that something was bothering you. He was talking about a trip or something along that line. You nodded, humming to prove you were still listening.

But you couldn’t fool him for long. When you felt his touch on your hand and it made you jump out of your skin, sweating like a sinner in church. It startled him too. He sat straighter, leaning over from his seat opposite you. “My dear, I did not frighten you, did I?”

You smiled, shaking your head and glancing down at your feet. “No, no, I was just distracted. It seems like such a long way.”

He placed a finger under your chin, gently lifting your face up so that your eyes meet. “Oh, we are not going to Prussia right now. We have a stop at the Summer Palace in Kent. There will be refreshments and a tour awaiting you. The grounds there are quite magnificent.”

You nodded and let out an unintentional yawn. Unintentional because you knew at the sign of tiredness, he would turn into a full-blown mother goose and dote over you endlessly. And he did. He came to sit next to you and extended his arms, allowing you to scoot just into his hold. You leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling yourself doze off slowly to the rocking of the carriage and the soothing circles he was rubbing on your arm.

…

When you woke up from the sleepless dream, you found yourself in a dark room, on a four-poster bed with the sheer curtains drawn slightly, giving you an opaque impression of the room.

From what you could see, it was already dark outside. The candle lights were the only light source, illuminating the corners of the room in a wash of gold, highlighting the details of the wallpapers. Squinting, you prompted yourself up, seeing that you were still dressed in the gown you had worn this morning.

You sighed. It was going horribly. Whatever should he think of his bride, asleep all the way up until their wedding night. Maybe if you pretended you was asleep...oh but then that wouldn’t matter. You wanted children so it would only be running away from something that would inevitably happen. Better face it sooner than later.

Maybe you should take a bath while Friedrich was not here.

It was a good idea. You nodded to yourself and crawled out of the king-sized bed, making your way towards the dresser quickly.

There were nightgowns already arranged in there for you, the new ones that Mama insisted on buying at the Modiste. You chose the first one you saw, the shift dress that came just over your knee and headed for the bath.

At the same time, Friedrich had just finished planning out the perfect dinner for whenever you-his princess woke up. Now, he walked back upstairs to your room to see if you did. Cracking the door open, he popped his head in, as quiet as he could be in case he might wake you.

The bed was empty.

Friedrich opened the door a little wider, calling your name softly. There was absolute silence, his heart almost stopped. “Y/N?” he called, this time louder as he began to scan the entire place for traces of you, completely missing the drawer that you left slightly ajar.

His instincts led him to the bathroom, since the windows were not open so no one must have got in through them. He then heard you sighing loudly from behind the door and he stopped immdiately, leaning against the wood.

“Are you alright in there?” He asked.

“I am! I was just going to take a bath.”

He sighed in relief and smiled. “Should I call up some staff to aid you, darling?”

“No, I’m quite alright...”

As soon as you said that, you regretted it.

Even though you managed to get your dress and your necklace off, the corset was still there and it wasn’t going to leave anytime soon. Especially with how sore your arms were from having to reaching behind your back and digging for the strings.

You sighed again and looked at yourself in the mirror. Your back were pretty scratched up from your poor attempt at undressing yourself. You turned away, assessing your reflection. Your hair was finally down from the bun it had previously been in all morning, your rouge had mostly disappeared. You looked like a real mess. But you didn’t have much choice, did you? There was no stopping the inevitable. “Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m still here.”

You sucked in a breath, trying not to let him her the shake in your voice. “Would you mind coming in to help me?”

“Oh, of course not.”

The door slowly clicked open to reveal Friedrich who was only in his waistcoat and chemise. It was the most casual you had ever seen him dress. And it made you feel a little better, standing before him in such little clothing. The sight of him tended to have that effect on you.

He closed the door behind him, eyes trained on you carefully. You had your hand reaching behind your back for the corset. He took a couple of steps forward, just so he was behind you, his hands hovering over yours.

And then he saw the red scratches. “Y/N, what happened?”

“What?” You asked, turning to face him. He eyed your back and you let out a nervous laugh. “That. Yes. I tried to take it off myself.”

“May I?” He asked, eyes flickering to yours in the mirror to receive a timid nod. You retrieved your hands, holding it to your chest, watching your reflections.

“Does this hurt you?” he asked again. “It looks very painful.”

“I am used to it.” You smiled at the creases that appeared between his brows and on the ridge of nose. He was concerned, you could tell.

He gently took ahold of the ribbons and unlaced you slowly, sending shivers up your spines with each loop undid. You felt your breath hitch inside your throat once the ribbons were off.

He could sense your nerves and like the perfect gentleman, he looked away to give you your privacy. “I-I can leave if you’d like. We don’t have to do anything tonight-“

You shook your head, spinning around and whispered, “No. I-I want you to stay.” Your corset was falling off of you, the only thing holding it up was your arms and you dropped those as well, leaving yourself in only a flimsy dress.

He could simply blink, his eyes following your corset as it fell to the floors before hurrying back up to meet your eyes. You turned around again, leaning both arms against the counter, bracing yourself.

“What are you doing, my love?”

You looked up, a startled look in your eyes, afraid you had done something wrong. “Are we not about to, you know,-“

Friedrich smiled his kind smile. “Even if we were, you wouldn’t need to do that. Unless you wanted to.”

He was completely lost on you now. You blinked, looking at him in the mirror. It was then that he realized you had no clue how this was supposed to go.

“Y/N, what do you think I was going to do?”

“Well, I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to cover yourself up with your arms. Your cheeks reddened as you looked away from him. “Mama did a terrible job at telling me. She kept talking about the basset hounds we used to have. And I thought I saw them...mating. Maybe I was wrong. I-“

He laughed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was laughing! “No, I think you were correct to assume that. But it’s an entirely different tale to what humans do.”

“It is?”

He nodded.

“So what do we do?”

“I would not have you in the bathroom. That’s a first.”

“Oh. Okay. Should we go in there then?” you gestured to bedroom.

He still thought you were joking about it. But you were actually expecting a play-by-play from him. And he was realizing that now.

Friedrich took a step closer towards you, taking the hand you were holding up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand before pulling you into him until your noses touched, nudging them together.

“Mein Schatz, the whole purpose of this evening is for you to feel good. And I am here to do that. Do you want me to tell you all about it first so that you are in control?”

“I-I want you to show me.”

“Anything for you, your Highness.”

Swiftly and softly, he scooped you into his arms and ran to the bed, melting away your nerves with the his silly giggles.

Then, he placed you on the side of the bed where he leaned in, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. With lips parted, he trailed down towards the base of your neck. Your head naturally lulled back, offering even more skin to him. Your hands found his tie, undoing it as he continued to pleasure your neck and shoulders.

That did not slip his attention. He pulled away with a pretty smirk. His tie was undone, by you, hanging loose around his neck. You had your hand on his solid chest, feeling the beat of his heart through the fabric of his waistcoat, which he unbuttoned. With the tie, it slid off his shoulders and landed on the floors.

He was a vision in only a chemise and breeches. You were shamelessly admiring his physique. And he was shamelessly admiring you.

Your legs draped over the side of the bed, your hands supporting your upper body against the mattress. Your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath you heaved.

He made the next move, suddenly reminded of your previous request. He placed a hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Tell me if you wish for me to stop. Anytime, yes?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, brushing back a strand of your hair. “Good girl. Would you like to keep your dress on? It should be more comfortable.”

You shook your head, surprising him. “No,” you said quietly. “It can go.”

You kept your eyes on his as you lifted your dress up. The cold gush of air sent a round of shivers up your body and so did the gaze he was giving you.

His eyes fanned over entire body, stopping at your feet and flickered back up again. He took both of your hands in his. “You are magnificent. Did you know that? Simply marvelous. Now, as I promised, I’ll make you feel good. But you must relax for me.”

You nodded, telling yourself to relax as he connected his lips to the skin of your neck again. But instead of moving to your shoulders like before, he traveled to your breasts. And oh, it was divine. You closed your eyes, gasping as his tongue found your taunt nipple, his fingers brushing the other one. You could barely keep yourself up straight before he began to move again, this time dragging a trail of kisses across your stomach.

His hands on either sides if your knees as he hovered over you. “Tell me if it hurts, my love.”

You nodded, gulping as you anticipated his next move.

“I will need more than that.”

“Yes, I will.”

He smiled. Very impatient.

Friedrich parted your legs with one hand, letting the other moved up your back. You didn’t know what it was exactly for until the next moment. He dipped a finger between your folds. Your hands went to grasp the sheets beside you as your head fell back. Thankfully his hand was there to catch you from falling backwards.

“You are very wet, my love,” he said. “Now would you like to lie down?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, finding yourself sucking in a breath. “Is that a bad thing?”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. “No. It’s a good thing. You’ll see.” He began to move, coaxing noises from you that you didn’t know you had in you. You bit down on your lips, muffling them, lest it might deter him. But when he added another finger, you couldn’t really keep it in. The only thing you could do was to make sure you kept it as quiet as possible.

Friedrich could see how hard you were trying to stay silent. So much so that you had completely forgone his advice to relax. So at the same time, he removed both of his fingers. A gasp drew from your lips at the sudden emptiness.

“You can’t possibly hold your pretty noises from me, can you? Let me hear them, too.”

“Y-you want to?”

“Of course. There’s nothing of yours that I do not desire. Now remember what I said earlier?”

You nodded, repeating his words to him as he helped you lay down with a hand under the back of your head. He looked into your eyes, the corners of his lips lifting slowly. So innocent in comparison to what he was doing with his hands, pushing your legs up on the bed. He brushed his thumb over your soft cheeks and your lips again before scooting himself lower, his face hovering over your abdomen, his hands on either sides of your hips.

What was he about to do?

As though he could read your minds, he gave you an answer, delving into you without hesitation. You couldn’t hold back a moan even if you tried. Your eyes shut tight, feeling his tongue slide into your sex, his curls brushing your stomach. It made you shudder, your knees wanting to close around him. You were sure if it weren’t for his hands keeping you open, you would have easily suffocated him.

You had been so worked up all day and from all the pleasure he was sending you into that you couldn’t see anymore. Your vision were blurred, the sound of him lapping you up and your breaths filled the room.

The last thing you knew was that he had his nose nudging against your most sensitive spot and then, you were at your breaking point, completely ready to crumble. Your back arched, trying to buck up against him, a loud cry escaping your lips. As you caught your breath, you opened your eyes and saw Friedrich grinning up at you.

“You are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted,” he said, leaning over you to press a kiss to your lips. You could faintly taste yourself from his kiss. “Was that alright for you?”

You slipped your hands onto his warm cheeks and then his hair, slightly damp from sweat. You stroked the soft curls between your fingers. “That might be the best thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Might be, huh? I guess I must try harder.”

You didn’t mean that.

While he left you to blush over your own words, he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. It only made your face redder.

“Scoot up further, my love.”

You did as he said, backing yourself up further on the bed. But you didn’t stop looking.

He looked like a Greek god, the ones you had only ever seen see in galleries and museums. Broad chest, glistening abs, strong arms. As he unbuckled his pants, you couldn’t help but gasp. He was rock hard. You didn’t get to gawk for too long though for he made his way into bed next to you. His face next to yours, his breath fanning across your neck.

“Friedrich,” you whispered.

He hummed, his brows dipping, a small smile on his lips.

“Is there more?”

“If you’d like, of course.”

“I would.”

Friedrich had no idea where the shy lady had just went. In her place was someone else entirely, unafraid of her own sexuality. His very own Goddess. He placed a hand on her waist, pulling her closer. “Do you feel just what you do to me?”

“I need you closer.”

He smirked, nodding to himself as he propped his body up on his hands on either side of you, his legs between yours. “How’s this?”

“More,” you sighed breathlessly.

“As you command,” he said, pushing into you with ease. Your vision went black, watery eyes clamping shut at the new sensation, your mouth falling open. He pressed his forehead to yours, inhaling your breaths and the scent of you. The both of you breathed together as you adjusted to accommodate him. “Are you alright?”

You nodded rapidly. You were more than alright. You were perfect. But you could barely speak, let alone put all of your emotions into words.

“I’ll move, yes?”

“Y-yes,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck to brace yourself.

He moved in slow and steady drags. His forehead on yours as a gush of air pushed its way out of his lungs in hot gasps.

"Please," you said in your fuzzy state of mind, your voice echoeing off the walls. “Fri-“

“Say my name, baby. I’m yours.”

Your toes curled, your grip tightening around his neck. He began to pick up his pace, rocking his rhythm against you. The sinful sounds of flesh against flesh and heavy moans from the both of you filled the air.

He didn’t slacken, didn’t faltar until you were hitting your high again. It arrived much faster than you thought possible and the encouragements he kept whispering in your ear certainly accelerated the pace. “Oh-Friedrich! Friedrich!” you said, your chest rising up and down roughly. He spilled into you some few thrusts after you finished riding the waves of pleasure.

You chanted his name like he was your religion and you were a believer. Because at that moment and from now on, it was set in stone. You were his and he was all yours.

taglist: @awesomebooklover17 @oopsiedoopsie23 @milkbaer @vampirestookmydoubts @5hundreddaysofsummer @km-98 @mikeys-thighs @lunas1x1 @albeeox @darkestbeforethedawn16 @defffcc @sarcasm-n-insomnia @urie-bowie-mercury @babydidoy

[hyuniebaby]

Focus (3)

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N x Junmyeon

Genre: a little smut

AU: College student! Baekhyun, Professor! Junmyeon AU, college!au

Warning: masturbation

A/N: This part isn’t as important as the previous part. I just wanted to introduce some of the friends of baek and oc. There’s not much happening, just their friends teasing them. This part also mentions that Baekhyun can’t get oc out of his mind 🤪

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Baekhyun is a big flirt but he does NOT sleep around. He likes stability. He likes people who are constantly there. So when he woke up after sleeping with you, he didn’t know what to do.

His previous experiences allowed him to stay in bed until his partner wakes up, but you two weren’t in a relationship. Wouldn’t it be too awkward if you woke up cuddled to him? Is he supposed to be a one night stand? He didn’t want to be a one night stand though. Sex with you was mindblowing. He would even dare say it was the best sex of his life.

Baekhyun also dislikes awkward situations. When he’s with his friends usually when something awkward happens, he’d be the first to break the ice. But in this case it was different. Yes, he flirts with you most of the time you’d cross paths but he doesn’t really know you well enough. It was all flirting and no getting-to-know-each-other-deeply. Will you be mad if he left? Will you freak out if he stays? He doesn’t know! It was driving him insane.

But still, he doesn’t like awkward situations so he opts to leave before you wake up. He doesn’t want to be a jerk and just go out and leave though. He wanted to remain friends with you because he’s going to have to spend a whole semester with you. With this in mind, he grabs a pen and paper and writes a note for you quickly, afraid that you’d catch him doing this. If you do, this situation will be more awkward.

When he’s done with the note, he places it on your bedside table. Then he grabs his clothes and quickly wears them. He spares a glance at you before he reaches the door. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful. As if a spell was casted on him, he walks back to your bed and places a kiss on your forehead. And then he leaves.

When he reaches his dorm, he was surprised his roommate, Jongdae was still awake. After all, it was three in the morning. Jongdae squints his eyes on him. “Where have you been?”

“Uhh... I... uh...” Baekhyun doesn’t know how to answer. He scratches the back of his head while he tries to come up with an excuse.

“Nevermind. Tell me about it tomorrow when you’ve gathered your mind.” Jongdae dismisses him. Baekhyun sighs with relief. He goes to his room and lies on his bed. Still tired from the activities that happened, he falls asleep with you in his mind.

Baekhyun dreams of you. He dreams of you sucking him off in his car. Your mouth choking on his dick while you massage his balls. You sucked him off until he came and swallowed all his cum.

He wakes up with a jolt and realized he had a wet dream about you. He stares at the clock and realizes it was already noon, good thing he doesn’t have classes today. He stands up and showers. Thoughts of you still running in his mind. His body instantly reacting to the thoughts of you. As if his body has a mind of its own, he reaches for his member and strokes it.

You were naked and on all fours. You were so wet for him. Baekhyun inserts two of his fingers at once in your pussy. You moan out his name. Once you were fully prepared for him, he slams his dick inside you. He fucks you hard and fast, the bed creaking as he does so. His hands go to your tits, pinching your hard nipples. One of his hands then travels to your clit while the other continues to play with your boob. You were both nearing your climax. You tell him to cum in you. His thrusts go impossibly faster after you say that. After a few thrusts, your walls clench on his shaft. You felt so good.

He moans out your name as he releases. You were driving him crazy. How was he supposed to face you after he masturbated at the thought of you?

When he finished cleaning and dressing himself up, he goes out of his room to grab something to eat.

“The prince has finally woken up,” Jongdae loudly says.

Baekhyun ignores him. He grabs some ramen from the cupboard and starts heating up some water.

Jongdae takes this opportunity to talk to Baekhyun.

“So, what happened last night?”

Baekhyun sighs, he knows Jongdae won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t start talking.

“Last night, you looked...” Jongdae’s eyes widened at the realization, “I know! I know! You got laid!” He exclaims.

Baekhyun nods in confirmation.

“Wait... You have a new girlfriend?”

“No!”

“But you don’t sleep around!”

“I know! That’s why I don’t know what to do in these situations!”

“You’re too pure,” Jongdae coos.

“Fuck off.”

“So who’s the girl?”

“I’m not sure if you know her. You don’t really interact with sophomores.”

Jongdae gives him a look that screams “So what?”

“She’s Y/N.”

“Y/N? As in Y/L/N Y/N? The one with friends who are always dressed to kill? I’ve worked with her before, we trained together for some Chemistry quiz bee or whatever.”

“She was in your quiz bee team?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jongdae casually says. “But isn’t she too... plain for you?” Jongdae knows Baekhyun’s type. He’s been his friend since high school so he’s basically met every single one of Baekhyun’s past lovers. He knows that Baekhyun adores pretty women. Pretty, sexy, slim. Modelesque.

In Jongdae’s eyes, you were very timid. Smart, timid, simple. He has only ever seen you talk so much whenever you’re with your friends. You don’t even talk unless spoken to. You would never make the first move. Could it be? Could it be that Baekhyun made the first move?

“She’s cute okay!” Baekhyun pouts.

“Fine, fine. Geez. So how was it?” Jongdae moves his eyebrows up and down.

“Fuck off Jongdick.” He turns around to continue making his ramen.

Jongdae laughs out loud at Baekhyun’s lame attempt to insult him.

“Guess I’ll find out myself.” He teases.

Baekhyun has never whipped his head so quickly at a statement. “Don’t you dare!”

Jongdae raises his hands as if surrendering, trying to look serious but failing to wipe the smile off his face. It was either (a) the sex you and Baekhyun shared was amazing or (b) Baekhyun’s getting so whipped about you but he’s oblivious about it, Jongdae thought, but he doesn’t say anything.

He lets Baekhyun be, trying to come up with a plan to approach you. He’s free the whole day after all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You wake up with a jolt, body feeling sore from yesterday’s activities. The first thing you looked at was your clock. It was 9:00 AM. FUCK, your classes starts at 9:30. You’re going to be late! The ride to your college takes up 20 minutes so you only have 10 minutes to prepare. As much as you wanted to skip shower, you can’t, you were sweaty and sticky. You already know your day is going to go wrong, great, just great.

You try to walk to the bathroom as fast as you can, as fast as anyone can move when their body especially the nether regions is sore. You opt to wear a skirt today, not wanting to go through the pain in wearing jeans. You grab a sweatshirt and put on your shoes and dash outside your house. Disoriented because you were running late, you didn’t even notice the note Baekhyun left on your table.

You ran so fast after paying for the cab, people gave you weird looks. You didn’t care though, afraid you’d get scolded by your professor in Analytical Chemistry. He was old and very strict about time. When someone comes in late, he “targets” them the whole day, asking questions that were far advanced than what should be discussed. It was scary and you don’t need scary today.

You opened the door forcefully and all eyes looked at you. Thank god, your professor wasn’t there yet! You release a breath of relief and sat towards your usual place. Your friends immediately facing you.

“I forgot to set my alarm!” You instantly said before they could ask. It was amusing to them, you were never late.

“It’s okay to be late you know,” Seulgi says.

“And be Mr. Jung’s target? No thanks! I’d rather die.”

Your friends laughed at your exaggeration.

“Look who decided to skip the jeans and finally wear a skirt to class,” Mina notes as she sits beside you. She came in a few minutes after you. She woke up late too but she lives just around the block so she looks a lot less haggard than you did. “You only wear skirts outside the classrom. You look better in it, you should do it more often.”

Before you could respond, all of a sudden Joohyun gasps and your group of friends look at her. “Is that a hickey?” she whisper-yelled while pointing at your neck. All your friends whip their heads to look at you.

Your hands immediately went to cover your neck. “It’s a mosquito bite!”

Of course no one believed your excuse. If you were them, you wouldn’t too. They bombarded you with questions. “Who did it?”, “How was it?”, “Home run?” You were flustered. As if on cue, your professor enters the room. Your friends immediately stopped talking and faced Mr. Jung but not before giving you a look that says “Tell us all about it later.”

You know there was no winning with them. They would tease you all day until you caved in. So you half listened to Mr. Jung’s lecture and half thought of how to tell your friends about it without telling them it was Baekhyun who you slept with.

You didn’t want to dwell so much on Baekhyun because, well, he left before you woke up. And although he had no obligation to stay, you considered him as a friend. And friends talk, right? Just to be clear on how they move forward after that...

You know your friends are crazy about Baekhyun, but quite frankly, they are crazy about all guys who have amazing bodies and stunning smiles like Kim Jongin, Park Chanyeol, even your professors Mr. Kim Junmyeon and Mr. Kim Minseok. You aren’t as vocal as they are but you have to admit, these men have a way of making you feel giddy just by looking at them. If your friends were to know you did it with Baekhyun, they’d be so jealous but they wouldn’t mind. They‘d be supportive. Boys are just boys anyway.

[broadwaybaggins]

One need not be a chamber to be haunted

He found her on the staircase, dressed to impress and staring at the banister as if searching for something. Jed watched her run her gloved hands over the wood grain and frown, and he wondered for a moment if he should go back upstairs, if he was interrupting something private. For all that her behavior was odd, he knew that being back in Mansion House--in a place he had never once expected to return to, after all that had happened--was bringing up all sorts of memories. He had never expected that he would be able to fall asleep in his old room again, the room that had seen the worst of his addiction and withdrawal, the room where he had lain night after night staring at the ceiling after Mary had been sent away. If it hadn’t been for Mary’s arms around him in the night, her gentle, steady breathing beside him in the bed, Jed wasn’t sure if he’d have been able to catch a wink of sleep.

He cleared his throat, alerting her to his presence. “Miss Hastings, good morning,” he said softly, so as not to startle her.

He had not had much of a chance to speak to her the night before. Her arrival had coincided with the gristly discover of Mr. Bullen, and then her time had been monopolized by Mary and...Eliza. Mrs. Hale. It still seemed impossible to believe, that she was here, that she had married Byron Hale, of all people--were there no other suitable men out in California? Had she purposely done this just to get back at him? He certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

No, he was being ridiculous, and if Mary were here with him and could see him like this she would tell him so. He was happily married these twelve years to a woman who loved and understood him far better than Eliza had ever done. The choices of his former wife, misguided though they might be, had no effect on him now. 

Anne looked up at him, and suddenly he was transported back to twelve years earlier, back when the war still raged and the hospital buzzed with activity around them. She hadn’t changed much. There were, perhaps, a few more lines around her eyes and mouth, but he supposed none of them had escaped the last decade or so unscathed by age. Her hair, what he could see beneath her hat, was still coppery and bright, but the smile that crossed her face when she realized it was him, that was new. That was unexpected. He hadn’t expected the last decade to soften Anne Hastings, much but apparently they had.

“Doctor Foster. Is it still acceptable to say that it’s good to see you, given the circumstances?”

“I should say so. Forgive me, I didn’t get a chance to properly greet you last night. Things got...rather out of hand.”

She looked amused. “Sounds like an understatement to me, given you’ve got a dead body cooling down in the cellar. Anyway, blame the rails. My train was late.” She glanced up the stairs. “Is she ready?”

“She will be soon. She sent me down to tell you.” Anne’s gaze dropped to the banister again, and Jed frowned. “May I ask...what exactly are you doing?”

“Looking for something,” she said briskly, as if he were an idiot for not realizing. “I was carrying a tray of instruments up the stairs and I was knocked into by this absolute bear of a man. It made the most horrible sound, and one of the scalpels nicked the wood of the banister. I had thought to look for it, but they must have replaced it.” She straightened up and brushed her gloved hands off on her skirt. “I suppose I just didn’t make as much of a mark on this place as I thought I did.”

“Oh, Anne, you know that isn’t true,” he chided. She gave a sort of half-smile, and a silence fell between them, one that Jed hastily tried to fill.

“When you go see Bridget,” he began, “there are some things you should know--”

“Jedediah Foster,” Anne said sharply. “Are you insinuating for one moment that I do not know how to care for a woman of limited mobility?”

“No, I--” Realization hit him like a slap in the face, and instantly his expression softened as he remembered the letters she had sent him asking for advice on caring for the woman who would become her sister-in-law. Remembered, too, the telegram that had been delivered after the young woman’s passing. “Your sister-in-law. Forgive me.”

“It’s all right,” she said, but she would not look at him. “You have a life of your own. I can’t expect you to remember every little thing about mine.”

“No, that isn’t...” He sighed. “My mind is a bit preoccupied this morning, I’m afraid.”

Her face softened somewhat, the harsh lines smoothing as she relaxed. “I suppose I can’t blame you, considering it was one shock after another last night.”

“Still, I should have remembered. I should have been less thoughtless. I was...I was saddened, to hear that she had died. And right as Charcot was publishing his findings, too.”

“They wouldn’t have helped her,” Anne said simply. “It wouldn’t have made a difference either way. But thank you, Jedediah. She was a good girl--a dear sister. I miss her every day.”

He wasn’t used to seeing Anne this way, without her sharp words like blades to protect her. He wished for the old Anne back, sparring with him, with Mary, even with Hale. Jed forced a smile and glanced up the stairs. “Mary is looking forward to catching up with you.”

“Yes, she mentioned that last night, before we were...otherwise interrupted.” Anne’s eyes had a glint in them that Jed wasn’t sure was teasing or agitated. “By your former--”

“I had no idea Eliza was coming,” Jed said firmly, wanting to cut her off at the pass. “Nor did Mary. Nor did anyone, I wager, other than Mrs. Squivers.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “No, and let me assure you, Mrs. Hale took great delight on our collective surprise.”

“I’m sorry--”

She waved a hand, dismissing him and his words. “Don’t be. We’ve moved on, all of us, and dwelling on the past won’t do anyone any good. I suppose the kind thing to do would be to say that I’m glad he’s found happiness, no matter who it’s with.” She glanced at him slyly. “Of course, given some of her comments last night, I’m not sure such kindness is warranted.”

“For better or worse, this place seems determined to make us dwell on the past, as you said,” Jed mused, looking around at the familiar halls of the hotel-turned-hospital-turned-hotel-again. “Mary and I were just talking about it--”

“What were you and Mary just talking about?” Jed turned to see Mary waiting at the top of the stairs. He dashed up to meet her, Anne following close behind. Mary laughed. “I’m sure I don’t need both of you to escort me down, although I will admit I am flattered. Good morning, Anne.”

“Good morning. Are you ready to go?”

“I suppose so.” Mary turned and kissed Jed, fast and gentle, on the lips. “We’ll be back as soon as we can. I don’t know how long it will take, but knowing Bridget Brannan as we do, she’ll certainly have a lot to say.”

“Yes, but will any of it be useful?” Anne quipped. Mary ignored her.

“Be careful, the both of you,” Jed’s voice was soft but urgent as they turned to go. He wasn’t sure why his heart had suddenly started racing, especially when he knew that Mary was probably safer in the company of Anne Hastings than anyone else under this roof, save for himself. 

“Don’t worry,” Anne assured him. “We will.”

[blurry-fics]

Chapter Six

Realize That It’s Gone | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 2190

Author’s Note: Ok, so I expected the last chapter to frustrate a lot of you, but oh my gosh some of you were heated!! (And I don’t blame you in the slightest). Anyway, hopefully this chapter clears some things up. Enjoy :) (picture credit)

My fingernails were digging so deeply into my palms that I was sure it would leave marks. I watched as Josh chatted with Y/N just inside the door, despite the fact that she said she had to leave nearly ten minutes ago. She glanced at me every so often, but I simply offered her a smile and acted like I was doing something on my phone.

“Ok, I really need to get going,” Y/N said, checking the time on her phone for the third time during their conversation. “My parents are going out tonight and I told them I would look after Georgie, they’ll be waiting on me.”

“It was really nice getting a chance to talk with you,” Josh said, offering her his signature smile. “Hopefully we get another opportunity soon.”

My jaw clenched.

“Agreed, I’ll definitely be over here more often,” she returned his smile.

Josh pulled her into a hug and my fists tightened. This was ridiculous.

“Bye, Tyler.”

I barely even registered that Y/N had said my name. My right hand loosened as I raised it to wave at her. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice the deep ridges in my palm from my fingernails.

Josh closed the door behind her and slowly wandered into the kitchen, whistling to himself. I stood in place, waiting until I heard the heavy metal door in the hallway slam. Y/N always took the stairs down.

“What was that about?” I asked.

Josh turned to me with furrowed eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“With Y/N!” I said, throwing an exasperated arm into the air.

He pursed his lips, “I’m not entirely sure what you mean, Tyler.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing dumb! I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The flirting? ‘There’s a lot of people here that I want to get to know.’ Come on, man,” I said, running my hands through my hair.

Josh grabbed one of the plates from the sink and began to rinse it off. “It was harmless, Tyler. I honestly didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“Obviously it’s a big deal! You know how I feel about her. Did you really think that I wouldn’t care if you went around blatantly flirting with her right in front of me?”

“She was flirting back! You can’t pin all the blame on me for what happened. Had she been uncomfortable, I would have stopped immediately, but she wasn’t.”

“That’s not the point, Josh! You know that I like her. That alone should be enough to stop you from flirting with her like - well, like that!”

Josh set the plate that he had been washing down in the sink and wiped his hands off on a nearby towel.

“Why aren’t you doing anything about it, then? If I didn’t know any better, I would think you two were nothing more than friends. If you were actively pursuing her, I wouldn’t have flirted. You’re right. But you’ve had your chance, Ty, and you’re lying to yourself if you think I’m the only guy that’s going to show interest in her.”

I shook my head, “You don’t get it. Why don’t you try spending some time in my head, alright? Do you know how badly I want to tell her how I feel?”

“Then why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple!” I yelled. Josh looked taken aback by the sudden jump in volume. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I might if you actually talked to me about stuff, Tyler! How was I supposed to know that flirting with her would upset you? I barely even knew that you still had feelings for her!”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No!”

I sighed and rubbed my hands along my face. My thoughts were quickly starting to spiral.

“Listen, Tyler, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you. I assumed since you hadn’t mentioned your feelings in awhile, it wouldn’t be a huge deal for me to flirt with her. She’s pretty, I’ll admit that, and I want to get to know her better. But if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can lay off the flirting.”

“I am uncomfortable with it.”

“But if she flirts first, then I’m going to reciprocate.”

I knew I should argue, but I was tired of fighting with Josh and my head was muddled with too many thoughts.

“Sure, fine, whatever.”

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good. I’m sorry for exploding on you, it’s just a sensitive topic with me,” I said, refusing to meet Josh’s eyes.

“You can talk to me about stuff, you know. I’m willing to listen.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Josh didn’t say anything else, so I shuffled down the hall towards my room. Even though Josh had said he would stop flirting with Y/N, I wasn’t entirely convinced that it would stop the entire situation. I had no idea where Y/N stood with Josh, aside from the flirting she had done with him today. Josh wasn’t really her type, but then again, I didn’t really know her type. The only person I had ever really seen her show interest in was me.

I collapsed onto my bed, grabbing a pillow to pull over my head. Maybe Josh had a point. I had my chance to go after Y/N and I hadn’t used it. Did she even feel the same anymore? We had been apart for a long time and she had seemed interested in Josh when she was over.

He was perfect for her, when I thought about it: the exact type of guy I had always assumed Y/N would end up with. Josh was confident and funny and caring, all things that I wasn’t. He knew how to flirt and make her blush, another thing that I had never been able to do. Yeah, maybe they would work out together.

Even if I didn’t want them to.

Not wanting to entertain the thoughts any longer, I walked over to my dresser and grabbed the headphones that were sitting on top of it. I slid the volume up to full blast and fell back onto my bed, allowing my face to get squished into the mattress.

Maybe if I laid here long enough, I would fall asleep and my brain would shut off for awhile.

*     *     *

My music was still blasting when I woke up from my nap. I sighed and rolled onto my back, trying to figure out just how long I had been asleep. The sun had gone down and there were a few unread messages on my phone, mostly from my family. Y/N had texted too, so I read that one first.

Y/N: Hey, I noticed you were acting a little off today. Hope everything is ok. Text/call me if you need me <3

I smiled and typed out a quick answer. It seemed the nap had done its job of making me feel a little better.

Tyler: A lot on my mind. Call you in a little bit?

Josh was sitting on the couch as I walked out to the living room with an empty plate sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He turned and smiled at me, but didn’t pause his TV show like he usually did. I gave him a lazy wave and continued my shuffle to the kitchen.

After looking through the cabinets, I decided that nothing in our kitchen looked appealing enough for dinner. There was a Taco Bell not too far down the street and getting out of the apartment for awhile didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Before I fully processed what I was doing, I was standing by the door with my car keys in my hand.

“I’m going to Taco Bell. Want anything?” I asked.

Josh didn’t turn around as he answered, “No, thanks.”

“Ok.”

My car was still a little warm from the afternoon heat as I slid into the driver’s seat. There was a stack of half-written songs on the passenger side of the car, tossed into an unorganized mess. I collected them into a neat pile and set them in the back, hoping they wouldn’t fly up and out the open window on my way to get food.

I hummed along with the music as I pulled out onto the main road, hoping that it was the right direction. A few days in the new apartment hadn’t yet allowed me to get used to where everything was in relation to us, which had led to a lot of wrong turns as I tried to run errands over the last few days. It had taken me nearly twenty minutes to get to the grocery store the other morning.

My phone started buzzing right as I was about to pull up to the drive-through window at Taco Bell. Once glance at my phone was enough to tell me it was Y/N, so - not wanting to ignore her - I answered the call.

“Hello?” I answered, carefully watching the car in front of me.

“Hey, Ty, you said you wanted to talk-”

“Hold that thought,” I said, noticing the car in front of me start to pull away.

Y/N said something, but it was too muffled in the passenger seat for me to hear. My left leg was bouncing nervously as I paid for my food and took the bag from the person working at the window. As soon as it was in my hands, I pulled away and immediately parked in one of the little spots in the parking lot.

“Sorry about that,” I said, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on top of the dash.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m getting food,” I laughed. “You called right before I pulled up to the drive through window.”

“Of course.” She was laughing too. “What did you get?”

“I’ll give you three guesses,” I said, already pulling out my food. The wrappers crinkled in my hands.

“Taco Bell?”

“Ok, well, I guess you didn’t need all three.”

“Yes!” she cheered happily. “Anyway, do you need me to call you back?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just chilling in the parking lot now.”

“Charming,” she giggled. “So, what was up with you today?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Ty, I know you better than that. The spacing out. The weird looks. I know something was going on.”

I took a sip of my drink before speaking. “I guess - I don’t know - it was just weird to see you and Josh together.”

“Why?”

“Um, it was just like - I’m not used to hanging out with other people. Usually it’s just you and I, you know?”

“Are you worried that I like Josh better or something?” Her tone was joking, but I could tell there was sincerity behind the question.

I paused a moment. Then answered with a mumbled, “Yeah.”

“Ty, you know that’s not the case, right?”

I leaned further back into my seat. My back was sticking uncomfortably to the fabric of my shirt.

“You two seemed pretty friendly.”

She sighed. It was quiet, but I still caught it.

“I just wanted to get to know him because you’re in the band with him. You mean so much to me, Tyler. More than words could ever explain, I think. Josh is never going to take that place from you, he just… can’t. There’s years of inside jokes and arguments and memories that he can never take from between us.”

“I know. I just get worried. Like, there are better people for you out there.”

My hand clenched a little tighter around the empty wrapper in my hand. That was the closest I had ever gotten to admitting how I felt about Y/N. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to lay everything out during this phone call.

“Think what you want, Ty, but that isn’t the case.”

Even though I didn’t entirely believe her, I knew it wasn’t worth getting into an argument over. I had already had my fair share of arguments tonight.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.”

I lost track of how long I ended up sitting in that parking lot, talking with Y/N and enjoying the quiet background noise of my music. There was a light breeze that would drift through the windows every now and again, carrying my laughter along with it. It was peaceful, and for awhile I forgot all about what had happened when she visited the apartment.

She eventually said she had to go, her parents would be getting home soon and there was some laundry that needed to be dealt with. I agreed, explaining how I had told Josh I was going to get Taco Bell and had ended up staying out for over an hour. Despite me still being a little upset with him, I didn’t want him to worry.

“Goodnight, Tyler. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“I’ll hold you to that. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The phone clicked as she ended the call and I leaned back in my seat, letting a smile overtake my face. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as I thought.

*     *     *     *     *

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[mirrorstone]

Like making a wish on a monkey’s paw, you ask for more Leagues and Legends content but it’s just me with a rambling daemon AU character study no one asked for.

Cassandra settled early. Her father looked down at her and called her “precocious” with the same kind of pride in his voice a man would have when talking about a prize racehorse or a pedigreed dog.

“It suits you,” he told her, looking down at the viper in her hands, whose eyes were inhuman gold, and she knew that he meant it. She had never, even on the best days, been quite able to convince herself it was entirely praise. Her father’s goshawk, Celosia, sometimes looked at them both like something she would have stooped on and eaten, if they were not too venomous to survive it.

Aurel saw the world in a different way too. He saw it in the shudders of footsteps against the ground, the taste of things in the air, the heat of their form left in passing. He saw it from low to the ground, where he went unnoticed and saw things that went unnoticed.

Grey settled late, or seemed to. Cassandra knew several months before their father did, simply because Grey never mentioned it, until he was asked directly Their father had looked down at them, his son and the rat perched on his shoulder, and frowned.

“Well, a rat belongs in a lab, I suppose,” he’d said finally, settling a heavy hand on Grey’s other shoulder. Celosia looked down at her from her perch on his shoulder, and ruffled her wings a little as though to draw his attention to the similarities of their positions. It had made their father’s expression grow a little more approving. He smiled like that down at Grey and Hypatia when her deft little paws put together delicate pieces of machinery, when Grey understood a concept after a single explanation.

It had taken Aurel a long time to forgive himself for settling on a form that made Grey live with a houseful of things that would devour him.

When Grey meets Jack for the first time, his daemon lights up, immediately swarms down his shoulder and darts over to the desk, skimming up it with the ease of a natural born climber and getting as close to the height of Grey’s shoulder as she can, flicking her bushy tail expectantly.

“Hello!” she says cheerfully. “My name is Maple. I’m glad to meet you! Look, we match!”

“We don’t,” says Hypatia, remaining right where she is.

“We sort of do,” Maple says, unswayed. “Some of the hero majors call me a rat anyway, so I think it works.” Jack can’t help but notice the way way Grey doesn’t move, like someone who trained themselves to freeze instead of flinch.

“Maple, come on, we just met him.” He holds out a hand, beckons, and she takes a flying leap onto his arm, agile and fearless. “She’s really friendly,” he says with a smile, an explanation that refuses to be an apology for her. “I’m Jack.”

When Jack arrived at the school, they took one look at him, one look at his daemon, and sorted him away into the guides without a second though. Barefoot farm boys with dust on their well-worn knapsacks and common pests as daemons are not hero material. Heroes have horse daemons, or eagles or tigers or wolves, fierce and majestic. Heroes have daemons who can fight. Jack’s daemon is useful as a scout, a spy, something small and common and easily dismissed. Jack is tall enough for the both of them, but he too is something common and easily dismissed.

When he gets into fights with the bullies, with their snarling wolves and mantling eagles, Maple spends the fights running, dodging, leaping up into their faces to bite before darting away. When he gets into fights, he gets beaten bloody whenever one of their larger daemons manages to pin her down, and his limbs go leaden and slow to respond, fighting against the persistent belief that they’re trapped under a sneering leopard’s paw, and she feels his pain and thrashes and berates and tries to bite until neither of them can fight back any more.

Jack never lets something as simple as a beating stop him from stepping into another fight. They both know what it feels like to be small and pinned down and hurt, and no one else in the entire world is going to feel that way if Jack can step in and feel it for them.

Grey will soon fall into the habit of calling them both “Squirrel” with an acerbic “am I supposed to be able to tell the two hyperactive redheads apart?” He will fall into many habits that year. The habit of tucking Hypatia into the pocket of his academy jacket to ensure she never gets left behind when he inevitably has to run after Jack for reasons that are always terrible and not worth the running (as he tells them at length when the running stops and he can catch his breath again.) The habit of tucking himself into Jack’s warm shadow and refusing to be left behind. The habit of leaving a cushion on his desk for Hypatia to curl up on, so that when he falls asleep at his desk and Jack moves him to his bed, he can move her too without touching her.

Hypatia develops another habit, eventually. Instead of the cushion, she starts falling asleep on top of Jack’s always packed knapsack. “Grey’s desk is too covered with books,” she sniffs when Jack comments, as though he has not come across her asleep on top of an open book as many times as he has Grey. They never say that it’s because if she breathes deep, it still carries the faintest scent of a place that used to be home. They never say that if she’s there, Jack can’t leave without them knowing.  

Cassandra’s daemon is a mountain pit viper. It’s not a cuddly animal, and it’s one that you know is dangerous the moment you see it, which I think says some things about the way she sees herself, but I think it’s also a little bit of wish fulfillment. After all, people don’t touch vipers not so much because they don’t want to, but because they don’t dare. A viper can defend itself very well with a single bite, and I think that’s something that I think an adolescent Cassandra would have wished for. His name is a mangling of the word “laurel” which according to Greek legend was created when another one of the women Apollo lusted after (in addition to Cassandra) chose to turn into a tree rather than let him have her.

Grey’s daemon is a fancy rat, with a grey hooded pattern. They’re small, quick, and can dash away and hide easily. Rats are also very intelligent. Specifically, he’s a domesticated species of rat because Grey is not a wild animal. He wants to live where people are, in the comforts of civilization (i.e. libraries, the only parts of civilization that matter.) I imagine there’s a certain stigma both to having a domesticated daemon instead of a wild one, and to having a rat daemon. Good thing Grey has perfected the aura of “I really don’t give a fuck what you think if you’re not a book.” Grey’s daemon is also the only one in his family that’s not a species native to the mountains, which is what we call foreshadowing.She’s named after Hypatia, who’s associated with the library of Alexandria, because I am predictable.

Their father’s daemon is a goshawk because I’ve chosen to ignore the convention bird daemons usually mean witches in the HDM universe. I wanted him to have a raptor daemon because they’re not social birds, and because they don’t really tame. Unless a raptor has imprinted on a human, even one trained for falconry always has a risk of simply flying off and never coming back. Goshawks are known for being particularly fierce and determined hunters. Her name is the result of me prettily mangling the Latin word for “lofty, proud.”

Jack’s daemon is a Eurasian red squirrel, not to be confused with the American red squirrel who is significantly less fluffy. Jack and his daemon are both quick, active, and like to spend an inordinate amount of his time up high, and it amuses me that they’re both redheads. I deliberately wanted Jack to have a “common” daemon, the sort of animal that you see everywhere and dismiss. But she’s also, at heart, a forest creature. Grey left his home with a daemon that didn’t belong there looking for the place they did. Jack and his daemon fit perfectly into their home, but they left, and now it no longer fits them quite like it used to. She’s named after one of the species of tree that grows heartwood. Apparently not all of them do. Make of that what you will.

Bonus Cassandra and Spider with spoiler for Remember the Dust under the cut.

Spider’s soul also bore venomous fangs, and a form that made people shudder, and perhaps that was what had first caught her interest. Spider had a daemon no one would want to touch, even if he were willing to allow the intimacy. Spider also had divided loyalties, between the person he held close to his heart and between the man he obeyed. Cassandra could work with that.

The first time she touched his daemon had come as a surprise to both of them. When she had crept up to Cassandra’s hand, lying on the table, and quietly asked “May I?” Cassandra had frozen, looking up at Spider who had frozen just as uselessly as she had, and then back down at the tarantula. Anthina was still, but only in the way she was always still when she was waiting. It was a thoughtful, patient stillness, not the frozen uselessness she’d managed to throw both humans into with only two words.

Cassandra had finally managed to choke out a “yes” and she crawled delicately onto her hand. Cassandra had cupped her other hand next to it, feeling every brush of the rosy hairs, every light tap as each leg touched down on her skin, and she had lifted her up. Even a few feet off the ground, she held Spider’s life in her hands, quite literally, and they both knew it. Anthina’s exoskeleton would not survive being dashed against the ground from even the height of the table, her venom not powerful enough to leave death that would follow her own. Cassandra’s heart had pounded so hard she was certain that Anthina must have been able to feel it through her skin, while she held Spider’s own heart cupped in her palms. She held her there, silently, for the count of ten heartbeats, then twenty, lost count, before she set her gently down.

Spider looked like a man who’d been smacked in the head with a sledgehammer. He cleared his throat twice before he could get the words out. “Well then.” That was all. It wasn’t his way to make a big deal of things. It gave her time to catch her breath.

It had been much longer before Aurel would let Spider touch him. Spider never minded. Maybe he knew somehow, like she did, the way Aurel was always aware of the warmth of him. The way he would slither into the spaces Spider had left, and coil up until the residual traces of heat faded away entirely. The first time he’d let Spider do it, coiled around his arm as Spider lifted it up like he was wearing something made of glass, Cassandra had felt surrounded by warmth for the first time in her life.

When Spider had argued with Thorne that day (Cassandra would always think of it as that day, needing no other qualifier) when he'd said he wouldn't allow what the man had planned to do, Thorne had not spoken. He had simply looked Spider, with a faintly puzzled look, like a man pinning insects to a board who had been greeted by one of the in a human tongue. His gibbon daemon had leaned in as though she was listening, when Spider's daemon added her words, and then reached down and crushed the tarantula in her nimble, clever hands. Spider died with a strangled protest caught in his throat, crumpled to the floor as his daemon dissipated into dust, and Cassandra did not cry. She already knew from long experience that no one would come to help if she did.

(Spider’s daemon is a Chilean Rose Tarantula. I just liked the incongruence of giving him a daemon named after something beautiful when tarantulas are widely considered to be grotesque.

Thorne’s daemon is a gibbon because in the HDM universe, people with monkey daemons are stereotyped as clever, conniving, and untrustworthy, but mostly because he is a HORRIBLE LITTLE MAN.)

[naturepointstheway]

“Hospital Detour” (Life is Strange)

The only reason Max is visiting the hospital where a now quadriplegic Chloe is residing is thanks to her mother's work's conference, located in a time and place that was convenient for them to swing by the hospital. Max would rather have partied and handed out pot brownies than come all the way down here just for her parents' conference, but her parents insisted on the visit, and so Max has no choice but to be forced to confront her childhood friend's new disability, and the fear that things will be too awkward and different. To her relief, their old friendship is quickly rekindled despite an awkward relighting.

A slight AU of the alternate timeline in Life is Strange.

*****

Max leaned her head against the car window in the backseat, staring out at the passing scenery, ignoring her parents’ bantering as they sped along the road to the hospital where Chloe was still residing, even several weeks past her horrific car accident. 

I’m so uncomfortable right now. She’s disabled, and how the hell am I supposed to act around disabled people? And of course my parents decided I should come along with them this weekend, just because we’ll happen to pass the hospital where Chloe is. 

She’d had a party this weekend, and had promised to bring along some pot brownies for the shing-ding, but of course that wasn’t happening now. She’d had to quickly dash her brownies in a rubbish bin outside some old lady’s house. At least that way she wouldn’t get busted by her parents if they nosied through her stuff. The old lady was on her own, though.

It’s not that I don’t want to see Chloe, it’s just, how the fuck am I supposed to talk to her? 

What do you say to someone who’s been recently completely paralysed from the neck down? What was she going to say to her? What could she say? 

“Oh hi, Chloe, I hope you’re feeling better and able to get back to normal life soon.. We should totally go sneak into a concert reserved for people eighteen years and over. To the moshpit, amirite?” 

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. And what should she say about her own life? 

“Oh yeah, by the way, I was able to take a fun skinny dip the other day. Was drunk as hell though. Stepped on a dead jellyfish. Pretty sure my whole body was on fire, it was that fucking painful.”

Or: 

“Oh man, I am so exhausted from all the dancing last night. My legs are sore, but man, my whole body is still electrified from the concert. You should try it sometime. Raves are amazing, they get my whole body movin’!” 

Yeah sure, remind Chloe that she can’t move at all, let alone feel anything in her body. 

Even I’m not that kind of bitch. 

“Mom.” 

Vanessa Caulfield shot her a glance through the rear view mirror. “Yes?” 

“What the hell am I supposed to say to Chloe?” 

“Just be yourself, Maxine.” 

Max rolled her eyes with a groan. “Ugh. So helpful.” 

“We are doing you a favour taking you with us to see Chloe. My conference had the perfect timing.” 

“Yeah. You told me that before.” 

“Just say you’re glad she’s with us, and I really do hope you did send her a letter?” 

A shrug. “Just a little one.” 

“We sent her a postcard the other day. Her parents called us and were very appreciative of the gesture. Chloe is a sweet girl. Just because she’s disabled now doesn’t mean she’s not Chloe anymore, do you understand?” 

“She can’t be very Chloe if she’s completely paralysed.” 

“Of course she is. She’s an angel.” 

“Sure, mom.” 

“You will be nice, Maxine. She’s still your friend, isn’t she?’ 

I guess so, if sending her a quick email or letter on the rare occasion I remember counts as being friends with someone. 

“Yeah. Totally.” 

“I know you’re uncomfortable about seeing her after her accident,” Max’s father, Ryan, added, “But she will appreciate your visit. Unfortunately, it’s not uncommon for people to lose all their friends after trauma that leaves them severely disabled.” 

No shit, dad. People are assholes. 

“Sure, dad.” 

“I’m serious, Maxine. She’s going to need all the friends she has left.” 

Vanessa added, “Her parents mentioned over the phone that Chloe’s friend, Megan, visited her a few days after the accident and never came back, except for a postcard.”

“Well, a postcard is something , at least.” 

“A visit is far more treasured, I would imagine, sweetheart.” 

Sure, but if that visit is full of awkward silence, you may as well just never have visited at all. 

Awkward silence. That’s what she was afraid of. If she had it her way, she’d be more than happy to have continued staying in Seattle, never visiting Chloe, taking the easy way out of having to see her at all. At least, with letters and photos of road-trip selfies she didn’t have to see her for reals in front of her. She wouldn’t have to fully confront the reality of Chloe’s disability, knowing she would never be able to do anything, no matter how very basic, for herself ever again. It was the easy way out, the chickenshit way out, to just stick to communicating via the written word with Chloe. If it made her a sucky, rubbish, crap friend, then so be it. She was a sucky, rubbish, crap friend. It seemed her parents thought so, or at least were trying to make her feel so. Whatever worked for them. 

No way will they guilt trip me about Chloe. 

“Slow down, dear,” Vanessa urged her husband, “The hospital’s on the left, straight down that street.” 

“On it. We’re going to see Chloe very soon, Max.” 

Welp. Guess this is it. Time to be awkward as fuck. 

 *******************

Max hated hospitals; they struck her as sensory overload at the best of times, with harsh white lighting, harsh white walls, harsh beeping noises from behind closed ward doors, and shrill ringing of the reception’s phone. She hated seeing sick people waiting for their already half-hour late appointment, the dark worry of mothers holding on to coughing, feverish, terrified kids, and the antiseptic smell that permeated absolutely everything . It made her want to gag, just imagining all the blood, antiseptic, needles, and tubes sticking out of patients bedridden and at the mercy of the nurses and doctors. Already bad enough for those patients with full use of their limbs. 

And their food is gross. So...ugh. 

Max had to hand it to the airplane industry: even their food was miles better than the most elegant fare hospitals had to offer. She couldn’t imagine Chloe having had to endure several weeks’ worth of gross hospital food in a row. 

Damn. Should’ve brought something along. Maybe one of my pot brownies? Okay, maybe not. I’d be banned from hospitals everywhere, probably. 

“Okay, there’s the receptionist,” Vanessa pointed at the reception right before them, “Let’s ask them where Chloe’s ward is, shall we, Maxine?” 

There’s no backing out of this now, is there? 

“Sure, mom.” 

It’s not that she didn’t want to see Chloe, like ever, but it... was like she didn’t want to see her at all. Not completely paralysed, that is. For as long as Max could remember, Chloe was all activity, all energy, all movement all the time. There was no slowing down with her, and the more the day wore on, the more energy she seemed to have, as though she were photosynthesising it straight from the sun like a plant. Max felt exhausted just thinking about how hyperactive Chloe could be. And now--

Completely still. Not able to move. Not able to dance in her boots on her own bed, swing high on the swings, climb as far up as she could into a tree, run along the beach with the wind in her long blonde hair, help her parents whip up some delicious pancakes at the kitchen bench, tear open her birthday presents with abandon, nor dive into the sea on a hot summer’s day just to swim up behind Max and take her down with her under the waves. 

It made Max’s breath hitch hard in her chest to even dwell on the idea of all that energy in Chloe, always so boundless and infectious, now locked away forever in her paralysed body. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” her father queried, a hand on her shoulder. 

Keep it together. Let’s not embarrass ourselves, especially not here. Not in front of the receptionist, and especially not in front of mom and dad. 

“Just a little hiccup, I think,” Max lied, well aware how lame it sounded. “I’m fine.” 

Dad didn’t look like he believed her in the least, and nor did her mom, but--much to Max’s relief--they let it go, at least for now. 

Once the receptionist gave them the directions to Chloe’s ward, they headed on their way, Max trailing slightly behind her parents, pretending to the world that she was so not with them. 

Wonder how Chloe is taking all of this? God. I’m gonna embarrass myself. I feel so fucking weird around disabled folks. How the fuck am I going to greet her? Maybe I’ll just let mom and dad do the talking. That’s the safest thing. I won’t have to open my mouth at all. Here goes nothing…

 ***************

Part of her hoped they would never find Chloe’s ward, that they’d keep going down endless hallways and through doors leading into another corridor, leading them to give up and get back on the road. That way she didn’t have to face Chloe in such a state, and didn’t have to worry about having something to say. 

Weird. I’m never shy about anything. And now I am. What the fuck is up with my brain pulling a number on me like that? 

“Ah, there it is!” Ryan clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder, steering her ahead of him until they stopped in front of the closed ward doors. Max stared at it, throat suddenly dry. Hours ago, miles and miles of road separated her from Chloe, and now only a door stood in her way. 

Deep breath, Max. It’s only Chloe, right? Quadriplegic, but still Chloe. 

“Ready?” Vanessa murmured near her. “Maxine? Maxine, are you going to knock or what?” 

Great. They want me to knock, when they have perfectly functioning hands themselves. 

Resisting an eye roll, Max raised a fist and knocked, firmer and louder than she’d meant to, on the door, stepping back to wait for any response. 

Don’t respond. Don’t open the door. Don’t say anything. Be asleep, have no visitors, have no-one--

The door opened, revealing Joyce Price, looking wearier than usual, with bags under her eyes, but her face broke out into a glad smile all the same.. 

Dammit. 

“Maxine!” Joyce drew Maxine in to a tight hug, Max catching a glimpse of Chloe hooked up to several machines, staring up at the ceiling, unnaturally still, a breathing tube inserted into her nose. Max’s heart dropped at the sight of her old friend so still and hooked up to all the things, eyes fixed on the ceiling.. 

Shit. 

Joyce finally let go of her, hands dropping away from Max’s shoulders, turning to nod in greeting to Max’s parents. 

“Chloe was very grateful for your postcard, as were we.” 

“Oh yes, we do hope she is feeling better,” Vanessa said, wringing her hands, “How is your daughter?” 

“She’s...she’s alive,” Joyce said after a long hesitation, “She’s still with us.” 

“Is she in a stable condition?” Ryan asked in a low voice, eyes flicking over Joyce’s shoulder to look at Chloe. 

“Thankfully, she is. My husband is at work at the moment, but will be back to see Chloe later.” 

It was at this point Chloe spoke up from the bed behind them. “You know I can hear all of you?” 

Joyce touched a hand to Max’s shoulder, gently nudging her forward in Chloe’s direction. “Go on, Chloe has been hoping so hard to see you here. She hasn’t had many visitors other than William and me.” She turned to address Max’s parents. “I haven’t had lunch yet, will you join me, so we can let the girls reunite?” 

Great, I’m going to be left on my own in this. Thanks. 

“Why of course,” Vanessa said, ‘Max, we’ll be back soon, okay?” 

Max took a deep breath, eyes looking anywhere but at Chloe. “Sure, go ahead and have lunch. Bring me back a burrito or something.” 

“We’ll do our best, sweetie,” her dad nodded at Chloe, “Glad to see you’re doing okay, Chloe.” 

Max turned and watched her parents and Joyce leave the ward, closing the door quietly behind them. She was still staring at the door when Chloe spoke from the bed, voice hoarse and thick with fatigue. 

“Max?” 

Oh damn. I...I have to talk to her don’t I? What the fuck should I say? 

She didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see her childhood friend looking like...that. This was not the Chloe she remembered, running around in her favourite boots, skating outside and inside the house (despite her parents’ scolding), making up new moves to her favourite songs, and racing Max up and down the lighthouse stairs. 

“You look amazing from the back, but would be nice to see your face instead.” 

Here goes nothing, Max. 

Taking a deep breath, Max turned around to face the bed, taking in how Chloe lay so limp and still under the starchy white blanket, hooked up to the IV drip, the heart monitor, and god only knew what else. Her blue eyes looked huge in her white face, her lips parched and dry, dark smudges under her eyes. Max searched her face for any sign of the cheerful Chloe she used to know, but there was nothing but fatigue and sadness. She couldn’t even crack a smile at the sight of Max. 

“Take a seat,” Chloe invited, her voice dull. 

I can’t do this. I’ve never talked to someone this disabled before. What the hell do I say?

“Uh...sure.” 

Max pulled over a wooden chair, sitting down a couple feet away from Chloe’s bed. She looked down, scuffing her feet on the floor, fingers drumming a beat on her knees. Who’d have thought one of the most popular kids in her school could be silenced so soundly like this? 

Aaand, there’s the awkward silence. Called it. 

“Sooo, Max “awkward silence” Caulfield, nice to see you around.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Max bit her lip, lifted her head up to meet Chloe’s eyes, seeing how glazed over they were from all the medication and malaise. “How’re you really doing?” 

“Shitty. Still completely paralysed from the neck down. You?” 

“Me? I’m...uncomfortable right now.” 

Wow, Max. Wow. You don’t just say that out loud. Come on, even you know this! 

“I mean, not because--” 

“Don’t bother. It’s because I’m disabled. Don’t blame you at all. I’d be the same myself.” 

“I have no clue what to say, okay? I haven’t had a friend disabled like this before.” 

“Anything but platitudes. Platitudes won’t unbreak my neck.” 

Got it. Anything. Just--omigod, Max, just say something! 

Maybe she should’ve had one of her secret magic brownies beforehand. Sure would’ve helped her. 

Max studied the side-tables on either side of Chloe’s bed, noting the get well cards, a couple of fluffy bears, a plush otter, and a snow globe with a doe inside--she immediately recognised it from Chloe’s room. Her parents must have brought it here for her to look at. 

“You’ve got a lot of cards.” 

“Yeah. Everyone says pretty much the same thing though. You know, get well soon, I’m sorry about what happened, and thoughts and prayers.” 

“People obviously care about you.” 

“All my friends visited me once and never come back. My parents have been here every day, as much as their work allows them to anyway.” 

“Maybe everyone else has been busy?” 

“If by busy, you mean never talking to me again, then sure, Max. They’ve been busy.” 

A beat of silence, Max desperately searching for anything else to say. 

So weird for Chloe to be so quiet. 

What she’d give right now for Chloe to be chatting so much at her just for a chance to tell her to zip it already before she uses up all the words in the English language. Or maybe she’d let her talk both her ears off, just for the memory and reminder of the old Chloe, who once skated downstairs on her skateboard and broke a wrist, and still refused to admit Max had been right to caution her against such recklessness. What she would’ve given to hear the old Chloe again, the Chloe who had gone through a massive space phase, followed by a dinosaur phase, neither of which Max had, unlike practically every other kid in America. 

Well, Maxine? You’re gonna have to be the chatty one now. Just pretend it’s school. 

Hah. Right. School. Where “disability accessibility” wasn’t anywhere in their vocabulary. 

“Those are...very fluffy bears and I like the otter,” Max offered a smile, “Otters are adorable.” 

“Like you. You’ve always been my otter in my water.” 

“Uh...thanks, I think? I see your parents brought the snow doe in here for you.” 

“My favourite.” 

“It’s pretty.” 

Another bout of silence, but Max was sure she could feel a little shift away from the dumb awkward silence to something perhaps a little more like...normal, she guessed. Something like the old days, though now it would never ever be quite like the “old days” ever again. Not with Chloe paralysed and bedridden. 

“Who brought in the bears? Do you like them?” 

“They’re...nice, I guess. Would’ve been nice to have a glowy punk bear.” 

I guess I know what to get Chloe for Christmas or a birthday then. 

“What about your shark?” 

“The one you tried to throw away?” 

“Oh god, you’re never going to let that go are you?” 

“Never.” 

Max allowed a quiet, cautious laugh. “I deserve it.” 

“You do. Sharks bite, and so do I.” 

“Can confirm. Still have the scar.”

“Shark wasn’t feeling swimmingly. Stayed home unfortunately.” 

“Bet the otter’s relieved about that.” A beat of silence. “So...any other gifts from people?” 

Chloe pulled a face. “Someone brought in a teletubby plush once. I demanded dad to give it to a kid who really needs it.” 

“What? Someone really gave you a teletubby?” 

Chloe rolled her eyes, staring back up at the ceiling.

Max gave a low whistle of disbelief. “I’m sure the kid was delighted to have a free teletubby. But... wow. ”

Jesus. Is that how people really act around disabled people? 

“You won’t be getting any teletubbies or purple dinos from me, just in case you were worried.” 

“Do that and I’ll punt you back to dinosaur doomsday. Somehow. I’ll find a way.” 

There’s the old Chloe. 

“Has there...been much improvement? Did they catch the person who ran into your car?” 

A deep sigh from Chloe. 

“Nothing.” 

Silence. Awkward fucking silence again. 

“Nothing, as in…?” 

“Hit and run.” 

“ Shit. ” 

“Psycho with enough cash to bail him out.” 

“That’s…” Max blew out a breath, “What the hell?” 

“No kidding. He blamed me. I wasn’t the one drinking and driving.” 

“The fuck? He blamed you ?” 

“Because I’m a teenager, and teens are always drinking and driving, amirite.” 

“I can’t see you drinking at all, Chloe.” 

“Because I’m still underage, Max, that’s why.” 

“Never stopped me.” 

Was that a twitch at the corner of Chloe’s lips? “Rebel.” 

“I’ve yet to go full punk. As if I would ever.” 

“Punk Maxine Caulfield. That would be the day.” 

Max grinned, already feeling a lot more relaxed than before. “With a purple and red Mohawk and tongue, nose, and eyebrow piercings. All the way.” 

Chloe stared at Max for what felt like forever, eyes flickering over her face and hair before turning her head away with the softest of laughs. 

I made her laugh. I actually cheered her up? Guess mom was right as usual. Not gonna thank her though, no way.  I have my dignity. 

“Sorry Max… but the image…” 

“Red and purple Mohawk. Tongue piercing. Arm length tattoos. Leather jacket. Faux leather, of course. I’m not about animal cruelty.” 

The soft huffing laughter died away, Chloe’s head stilling on the pillow, so motionless Max thought she might have fallen asleep, before there was a little sigh, quickly stifled, and she turned her head back to face the ceiling. 

“Guess that surprise visit to Seattle’s not going to happen, Max.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Chloe turned her head to gaze at Max again, eyes full of regret. “For your eighteenth. I--I was planning--” she cut off her sentence, eyes flicking away from Max, to stare down at the bedsheet tucked around her. “I had planned to surprise you with a visit in my car on your eighteenth. But...that’s never going to happen. It’s not fair, Max.” 

Shit. She’s sad again. 

Max stood up, moving to stand next to the bed, placing a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, knowing full well the girl wouldn’t feel a thing. Still, surely the gesture counted enough, even if she couldn’t physically feel it. 

“It’s okay, Chloe, really. This just means I have to surprise you with a visit on your eighteenth, right? Or twenty-first?” 

“Not the same, Max. It’s not like you’ve never been to Arcadia Bay.” 

“Still…” 

“I had planned it all out, Max. It would’ve been a weekend road trip and everything. Visit a few tacky tourist traps. Check out the art and culture scene. Visit Portland and buy a tonne of books at Powell’s. That sort of thing. But not anymore.” 

“We could still make it happen, right? Somehow? My eighteenth’s still like two years away.” 

“Not like I’ll be walking again, even though the doctors have promised me there’s a chance I could get some feeling back.” 

“Chloe! That would be amazing.” 

“I don’t believe a word of it, Max.” 

“Why?” 

“What makes you think they’re telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because they’re doctors?” 

“Doctors have been wrong before.” 

“Even so, getting back some feeling is better than nothing, right? And you’re healthy, you look after yourself and eat all the right things, right? You totally got this, Chloe, you’ll heal.” 

“I don’t think so. How can I live like this?” 

Has she even heard of Stephen Hawking? 

“Hey, if Stephen Hawking can do all that science while unable to move, there’s no reason you can’t. You’ve...you’ve heard of him, right?” 

Chloe gave her a narrow look. “Duh. Everyone has.” 

“Then you know how fucking awesome he is, even if I don’t understand any of his stuff.” 

“What he had isn’t the same.” 

“Still. I’m just saying, okay? And it’s not like you to just give up, Chloe. Shit, you’re literally the girl who told me not to let bullies see me cry, or they’ll win.” 

“Different time.” 

Never thought I’d see the day I’d be giving Chloe a pep talk. Guess there’s a first time for everything. 

Max let her hand slide down Chloe’s arm as she crouched, now eye to eye with her. 

“I want to ask you something, okay?” 

“Starting to feel tired, Max, but sure. Shoot.” 

“If it were me in your place, and I told you I want to give up, what do you think you’d say?” 

“Max, no, I can’t do that. I don’t want--”

“Just for a sec or two, alright?” 

“Why?” 

“What would you say to me, if I wanted to give up because some asshole injured me in an accident?” 

“I’d tell you don’t, because…” Chloe’s eyes were definitely duller, glazing over with drowsiness, “Because that means he wins.” 

Max moved her hand to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind Chloe’s ear. “Now that’s more like my Chloe. Take your own advice, nerd. Don’t give up, not yet, because if you do, that jerk has won by default.” 

“It’s going to be hard, Max.” 

“I’m not denying that. But you’ve always been a bold and determined person, and yeah, I always thought you talked way too much at three in the morning, but, Chloe, it’s your boldness that’s inspired and stayed with me. And I know you still have that drive to make the most of what you can in you. We’ve--we’ve always been Max and Chloe, right?” 

“...right.” 

“And the number one rule of Captain Bluebeard was that a pirate never gives up--you may as well just walk the plank.” 

Chloe’s eyes had closed fully, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth, the hint of what might have been a smile. 

“ And. ” Max let the word hang in the air until Chloe pried open one eyelid to look at her. 

“And what?” 

Max wagged a finger at her, face deadly serious. “If I hear you decided to give up anyway, you will not receive a VIP invitation to my first photography exhibition.” 

That did it. Chloe’s other eye popped open, and she eyed Max up and down. 

“You wouldn’t .” 

Max quirked an eyebrow. “Try me, Chloe Price. Just try.” 

They held the stare-down for several more seconds, before Chloe shook her head, eyes closing again. 

“Damn,” she breathed, voice no more than a sigh, “You’re hardcore, Max.” 

“ So hardcore. So punk. Just like you.” 

“You’ll...visit me again right? Soon?” 

“I’ll try, but I swear, I’ll keep in touch and I’ll send you photos of my funtimes.” 

“Oooh, funtimes, huh, Max? Will have to hide that from the ‘rents.”

“As in parties and road trips. You and your dirty mind.” 

“It’s the company I keep.” 

“I can’t promise I’ll visit you again in hospital, but I’ll do my best for you, okay? I’ll do anything for you.” 

A long pause, so deep in silence Max could hear the loud ticking of the clock in the ward interrupted by the steady beeps of the heart monitor and Chloe’s strained inhalations and exhalations through the breathing tube in her nose. Max was suddenly hyper-aware of footsteps hurrying up and down the corridor outside the door, the mumbles and raised voices of nurses and visitors and patients alike, and that goddamn shrill ringing of the phone at reception always going and going and going with no one ever answering.

Strange how a hospital could be so loud and silent in such chilling synchronicity. 

And then, there was Chloe’s voice a minute later, no louder than a whisper, heavy with a maturity far older than her seventeen years: 

“ Anything , anything?” 

What? What does she mean? 

There was something in Chloe’s tone that bothered Max, something serious, dark and heavy in its nature, too much for a sixteen-year-old girl to handle. 

No. I’m just analysing way too hard. There’s nothing deeper to see here. 

As long as Chloe kept fighting, as long as she was still a part of her world, Max could believe they would be okay. Even if Chloe ended up forever in a wheelchair, she’d still be with her, and damn right Max would wheel her past every single photo in her first ever exhibition when she finished high school. 

“Max? Promise, right? Promise you’d do anything , anything for me.”

“Yes, Chloe, anything, anything. I promise.”

[sociallyawkward--fics]

55 and 20 for ultimate angst combo, feat Virgil and your pick

I decided to go with Logan cuz we all know I love my left brain bois

I wrote half of this when I was very tired and the other half with this newly developed fever, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense lol. I think there may accidentally be some tense switches in there that I may not have caught but oh well too late now I’m very tired

Warnings: miscommunication, arguemnts, panic attacks, general anxiety, let me know if I missed something/you’d like me to add something

Word Count: 2067 (remember when these prompts were supposed to be drabbles lol)

[ao3 link]

Logan couldn’t quite pinpoint when he’d started. At first, it had just been offhand observations that he’d dismissed, Anxiety was, after all, their enemy.

But then he wasn’t. And Logan stopped dismissing his observations. In fact, he began writing them down, practically studying Virgil.

Virgil was not only the personification of Thomas’s anxiety, but he also seemed to experience it himself. He slept and ate poorly, and it was difficult to convince him to join in on group activities. His hands were frequently shaking, and he grew irritable if he didn’t get enough time to himself to recharge.

So Logan observed. He took note of specific stressors to Virgil, and tried to come up with possible solutions on how to minimize them. Things like lessening his caffeine intake, improving his diet, and perhaps having a calming tea before bed.

And the more Logan observed, the more trivial his observations were.

Like how husky his voice was after just waking up. Or the beautifully musical sound of the small chuckles he hid behind his hand whenever Patton made a pun. Or the (objectively adorable) teasing smirk on his face when he playfully provoked Roman.

Eventually, he Logan starts to realize he has a problem when each of these observations sparks a strange feeling in his chest and stomach. A feeling that he unfortunately knows the diagnosis to, despite how clueless the others believe him to be when it comes to emotions.

He never meant to start falling for Virgil.

And he never meant for it all to fall apart.

Logan had been writing plans in his notebook as usual, trying to come up with ways for Virgil to better manage his anxiety, when Patton frantically called him into the kitchen. Logan had left his notebook open on the coffee table while he went to assist (Patton had, once again, gotten multiple spoons stuck in the drain).

After fixing the issue, Patton rushed upstairs, saying something about being late for a date in the Imagination with Roman. Logan returned to the living room only to find Virgil flipping through the notebook, expression growing increasingly angrier.

“Virgil–” Logan started.

“The fuck is this,” Virgil asked, cutting him off and barely looking up from the book to glare at Logan.

“Virgil, please, let me explain, I–” Logan started again, but was cut off once more.

“Are you observing me?” Virgil’s voice rose in volume. “Am I just another experiment to you?”

“Virgil, no, you don’t understand–” Logan tried to explain

“I don’t understand?” Virgil scoffed, looking back down at the notebook.

Logan resisted the urge to growl in frustration. That would get them nowhere. If only Virgil would stop cutting him off–

“I think I understand perfectly,” Virgil said and began reading from the notebook, “‘The subject’s diet and sleeping patterns must be monitored further before an accurate routine can be created.’ What the hell, Logan?”

“I was only trying to help!”

Virgil’s scowl deepened. “Maybe I don’t need your help, ever think of that?” He shoved the notebook into Logan’s chest. “Don’t try to fix me. I’m not broken. And I’m not some experiment you can just toy with as you please.”

Logan let the notebook fall to the ground as Virgil stormed off to his room.

He’d really messed up this time.

Virgil stays in his room for days. No one even caught him coming out for food or water, which especially concerned them.

Patton had taken to sitting in front of his door for some amount of time during the day. Sometimes it was thirty minutes. Sometimes it was three hours. He rambled aimlessly at the door, tried to convince Virgil to come out, or at least eat. No one even knew if Virgil was actually listening.

Logan couldn’t sleep. He would barely eat, which only served to fuel Patton’s worry further.

It was his fault Virgil was locked in there, ignoring them all. He had betrayed Virgil’s trust (even if he still wasn’t 100% sure what had happened), and he had to fix it.

So Logan used his newly terrible sleeping schedule to his advantage. He burrowed under a blanket on the couch – making sure to adjust it’s positioning so that it’s placement looked natural and haphazardly thrown on the cushions – and waited.

After all those days, there was no way Virgil wasn’t hungry. Even if he had been sneaking food somehow, he’d need more. And Logan would keep doing this until he caught him.

As things were, it did take a few days before Logan caught Virgil.

He had almost fallen asleep, when a presence going by woke him up and put him on edge. Logan carefully listened to the footsteps of the presence and the resulting sounds in the kitchen.

Everything sounded too quiet, too sneaky. There was no way that wasn’t Virgil (he should know, he’d caught both Patton and Roman rustling around in the kitchen late at night enough times to know what they sounded like).

Logan listened while Virgil quietly ate some of the leftovers Patton had left in the fridge. Listened while he stuffed what was probably his coat pockets with what was probably granola bars (if the crinkling wrappers were anything to go by). Listened as he quietly made his way back through the common room to the stairs.

Then, Logan moved. Virgil wasn’t the only one who could be sneaky.

He climbed up the stairs quickly (as quickly as he could, being as exhausted as he was, which wasn’t very quickly), remembering exactly which steps not to step on because they would squeak.

Virgil was almost at the end of the hall by the time Logan made it up the stairs, so he dashed down the hallway, slipping into Virgil’s room just before Virgil finished shutting the door.

Virgil startled so badly that he stumbled backwards and the food fell from his pockets (Logan was right, granola bars).

“We need to talk,” Logan said, hands already shaking. Apparently the affects of Virgil’s room came on faster when you were tired and vulnerable.

“I don’t think I have much to say to you right now,” Virgil said, steadying himself and eyeing Logan’s hands carefully. “I think it would be better if you left.”

“No,” Logan said. “Not until you listen to me.”

“Logan, seriously–”

“No, last time you did all the talking, now it’s my turn.” Logan could feel the panic building, but he did his best to swallow it down. He had to do this. “I never meant to hurt you, Virgil.”

“Yeah, well, you did,” Virgil said, crossing his arms and looking away.

Logan ran his trembling fingers through his hair and tried to take a deep breath. It stuttered and he lost it, but he kept speaking.

“I simply wanted to help you, Virgil. I’ve noticed for a long time that you show many symptoms of anxiety yourself, and deduced that you are not just the presence of anxiety, but also the experience of it–”

“So I get nervous,” Virgil butt in, still refusing to look at Logan. “So what?”

“Stop interrupting!” All of Logan’s breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he gasped a few times trying to fill them again. “I wanted to help you, you idiot! I wanted to help you be less nervous so that you could be happy! I wanted to help you because I care and I fucked up, but please, Virgil, please stop hurting yourself because I was an idiot. You’re not broken and I don’t want to fix you, I just wanted to help.”

“Logan,” Virgil breathed out, finally looking at him. His eyes were glassy, his face vulnerable.

But Logan could hardly pay attention to that now. He was practically hyperventilating at this point, buzzing with anxiety and worry. He was worried about Virgil, worried for Virgil’s health, worried for Patton if he couldn’t get Virgil to come out again, worried for the relationship he shared with Virgil and if he’d doomed it from the start–

Logan’s eyes snapped open (when had he closed them??) when a cool hand pressed against his face, wiping away tears that Logan hadn’t even realized were there.

“Logan, it’s okay,” Virgil said gently. “We gotta get you out of here.”

Logan didn’t respond, he simply allowed Virgil to pull him closer and sink them both out, popping back up in the common room.

“I’m sorry,” Logan stuttered out over and over, still in the midst of his panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

Virgil guided Logan to sit on the couch, wrapping the blanket that Logan had been hiding under earlier in the night around his shoulders.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Virgil said, trying to gently pry Logan’s hands away from his hair. “I’m not mad anymore. I’m not mad at you.”

“I messed up, I’m sorry–”

“It’s all okay now,” Virgil spoke soothingly. “I need you to breathe with me, can you do that?”

Logan nodded shakily, squeezing Virgil’s hands tightly as opposed to clutching at his hair.

“Four, seven, eight, remember that?”

Logan nodded again.

“Okay, do it with me now.”

The two breathed in unison for a few minutes. They breathed until Logan’s breaths no longer stuttered and neither of their hands shook. They breathed until Logan’s tears dried and Virgil’s heart slowed. They breathed until Logan finally allowed their hands to drop away from each other, embarrassed by the contact.

“I’m sorry,” Logan started to say again, looking down in shame, but Virgil held up a hand to stop the apology from going further.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad, Logan.”

Logan looked up at him again. “I find that hard to believe.”

Virgil shook his head. “I was mad for a little bit. And scared. I thought I was just another experiment to you–”

“You’re not,” Logan blurted, grabbing Virgil’s hand again.

“I know that now,” Virgil gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, “so stop apologizing.” He frowned again. “Just smile,” Virgil said, clutching Logan’s hand back. “I really need to see you smile right now.”

Logan scoffed. “You say that as if I smile normally in my day to day life.”

Virgil smirked. “Maybe you should.”

“I am a very serious man.”

“A very serious man with a very nice smile.”

“Falsehood.”

Virgil’s smirk grew into a rare grin. “Careful, Logan. You know what Patton likes to do to liars.” He took one of his hands back to squeeze Logan’s side, smiling wider when Logan tried to wiggle away.

“Stop it,” Logan said, but there was no heat behind the words and he was smiling wide.

Virgil clasped their hands together again. “See? It’s like the sun, I can’t even look at it straight on it’s so bright. Good thing we’re both gay as fuck, huh?”

Logan broke down in giggles slouching forward to lean his forehead again Virgil’s shoulder. “I think the sleep deprivation is catching up with me,” he said in-between bouts of quiet laughter.

Virgil ran a hand through Logan’s hair. “More fun for me, then,” he joked, but started to recline them against the couch anyway, adjusting Logan to lay on top of him. “Means I get to see that smile. I won.”

“Stop talking about my smile, already,” Logan whined, then mumbled into Virgil’s chest, “Just wait until I’m coherent, then I won’t be the one who’s blushing.”

Virgil sighed, fixing the blanket around Logan’s shoulder’s to cover them both entirely. “If only the room wasn’t so dim, I would’ve liked to see that.”

Logan only hummed in response, beginning to drift off.

“Hey, Lo?” Virgil murmured after a few minutes, almost asleep.

“Hmm?”

“We’re not gonna just… go back to normal in the morning and pretend this never happened, right?”

Logan, barely awake, snuggled deeper into Virgil’s chest. “Fuck that. I gotta prove that I’m the better flirt.”

Virgil giggled sleepily. “I don’t think either of us were very good flirts tonight.”

“I’ll show you,” Logan muttered, words starting to slur.

Virgil smiled down at the unruly mass of brown hair resting on his chest. “You do that,” he whispered, finally letting sleep drag him under.

And if Patton woke up to make breakfast and found those two curled together on the couch and snapped dozens of pictures? No one needed to know.

And if one of those pictures ended up as Logan’s lockscreen? No one needed to know that, either.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, chapter 15

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

-----

He must’ve slept.

“Demyx?”

He was being shaken. He stirred.

“Sorry to wake you. I wanted you to get some dinner while it’s still hot.” Even still looked washed out.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled.

“You need to eat,” Even insisted. “If it sweetens the pot, Aerith is still here and would like to speak with you.”

That got him up. He felt bizarrely calm. She was eating soup in their kitchen. There were dark circles under her eyes, but she still afforded him a smile. “I’m always hungry after a case like this,” she said.

Demyx sat across from her. Even forced a bowl in front of him, nearly slopping onto the table, and then disappeared. He sipped. “How did it go?” he asked cautiously.

“I might have to come back for some revisions. But he’s healing well.”

“Did Ienzo wake up?”

She shook her head. “As for that… it might be a while.”

The soup in his mouth, at first tasteless, turned bitter and rank. “Like… a few days, or…”

Aerith bit her lip. “Optimistically? A few weeks. Maybe even longer.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s… how do I explain. Physically, he’s healed. But metaphysically, it’s a little more complicated. Exerting such power has a cost. In this case, it’s sleep. He’s exhausted his own will trying to use that power, and now it has to rest. It might still be a little touch and go, in terms of brain activity, but I have a feeling he’ll recover.”

“Have you seen this before?”

She shook her head. “I’ve read about it, though, if that’s any comfort. Master Yen Sid and Merlin talked me through it too.”

He forced down some more food. “This is a lot to take in.” He couldn’t tell if he was relieved. Ienzo would survive. At the same time, he definitely wasn't okay. And who knew how he would emerge from the other side?

She nodded. “Of course.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“It’s my duty. Ienzo has been so helpful. It’s the least I can do.”  She scraped the edge of her bowl. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can I please have more? I nearly completely depleted my magic.”

He got her more food. She was eating so quickly. More fuel for the mage.

“You’ve gone through a lot too, so I’ve heard.”

“My memories came back.”

“Must be overwhelming.”

“I’m still in shock, to be honest.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I know this is how I’m supposed to be. And it feels right, but wrong at the same time.”

“Oh, the dissonance will fade,” she said matter-of-factly. “Give it a week or two and you’ll be alright.”

“You think?”

She twirled some hair around her finger. “Let’s just say that trauma-induced memory loss is common around here. Unfortunately. Sometimes the repression can be undone with spells, and I’ve done it a lot. You’ll just have to cope with the contents within.”

“Easy peasy,” Demyx mumbled.

Aerith scraped her bowl clean. “I hate to dine and dash, but there’s a committee meeting and I said I’d fill everyone in if I could. I’ll come around tomorrow to check in.” She stood. “Are you okay with hugs? I tend to give them a lot.”

He nodded wearily. She hugged him for a moment. She smelled like magnolia and something else he could not place. It was hard not to find comfort in the touch. “Good luck, Demyx,” she said. And left.

He washed the dishes robotically. The door to Ienzo’s room was ajar. It felt almost wrong to approach. Like he was about to desecrate a tomb. But why?

Ienzo was unconscious. He was just as still as before. It was, in a surreal way, peaceful, if you ignored the tubes and sensors on his hand.

Demyx approached him slowly. Touched his cheek. He’d mentally been steeling himself for it to be cold, dead feeling, but in fact he actually felt a little feverish. He could feel still more tears in his eyes and blinked them back.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Or was the better phrase “thank you”? To talk at all was artificial. He wasn’t sure Ienzo could even hear him. Demyx kissed him on the forehead. It shouldn’t be hard to be here. He was fine. Ienzo was going to be fine. He felt sick with guilt. Why had Ienzo done this for him? He could've gotten himself killed. Demyx just was not worth it.

“I figured you might be here.”

Demyx looked up at Ansem. He dabbed at his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

“That’s quite alright. It’s been an emotional day for all of us.” He came closer and placed a hand on Demyx’s shoulder, studying him closely. “Is it not peculiar, how the heart can change our very appearance?”

“I feel like a stranger.”

“I suppose you must.” Ansem sat in the chair at the desk. He pulled, absently, at a loose thread in the cable-knit sweater he wore.

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why ever would I be?”

Demyx sat at the foot of the bed. Having spent time in it, the texture of the stitching of the quilts was comforting. “It’s my fault he’s like this. He shouldn’t’ve--”

“I have spent a good deal of time coming to terms with Ienzo’s choices, and learning to respect them. You shouldn’t blame yourself, but rather view this as an act of love.” He pushed himself to a stand. “I’m getting old. I can feel it in my joints. You’ll know someday.”

It was hard enough to be alive; aging boggled him.

“Come. Let’s go for a walk.”

Demyx looked back at Ienzo, still asleep, still immobile.

“You needn’t worry. Hard-hearted as he is, Even would do anything for that boy.”

Demyx followed Ansem wearily.

“You and I have not spoken much,” Ansem said. “I think that should change.”

“Everyone’s suddenly tripping over themselves to be nice to me,” Demyx said dryly. “Funny. Didn’t happen before they knew I had a Keyblade.”

“They know what mistakes they’ve made. Learning takes time. You do deserve kindness.”

“Do I? I mean-- I never questioned him, Ansem. Never, not once. Not because I believed in it. Because I was lazy and jaded and I didn’t care who got hurt.”

“Xehanort?”

He nodded.

“How old were you when they recruited you?”

“Seventeen.”

“And, at that point, did you have your memory?”

Demyx shook his head.

“Xehanort was particularly good at manipulating psychologically unstable individuals. If he caught you at the right time--”

“But Xehanort can’t absolve me of guilt. I can’t blame the guy fully. Isn’t that also reductive, or whatever?”

Ansem was silent for several minutes. Then he said, “It is an easy way out.”

“I don’t want easy. I just want the pain to stop. All of it. Mine. Ienzo’s. Yours. Everyone in this town or world who was poisoned because of him--” Demyx trailed off.

“Xehanort was… impossibly clever, the way he folded and changed himself to manipulate others. Friend, leader, harried apprentice. For him, it was simple as… playing a game of chess. He knew best where to hit us, and gave nary a care for the cost. Perhaps it is the bitterness in me, but I’ve been taking it in turn to fight the guilt. At least to spite him. I have so much to atone for. I’m not sure I’ll ever have enough time. But I have you to thank, at least partially, for this chance.”

Demyx rubbed at the back of his neck. “What, for the corridor? I was just doing what I was told. I’ll accept the pat on the back, but a lot of what I did to help Vexen was because I was bored.”

Ansem smiled a little. “Is that true?”

He shrugged. “I guess there was some part of me that just said “fuck him.” So I took the replica.”

“Resistance is not always courage and bravado. As a perpetual coward, I’ve learned this the hard way.”

Demyx nodded. He could feel the conversation bottoming out. They stepped out into a breezeway, and the sudden suffusion of light was startling.

“I am curious, though, about this mysterious score of yours,” Ansem said.

“How did you know about that?”

“Ienzo told me last night. Shortly before all of this happened.”

The memory was simultaneously a revelation and something that had always been there. “It started out as just some songs I was playing with. But when things started to hit the shit, I kept it as a diary, and just wrote under all the staff lines. Sometimes it matches up. Sometimes it doesn’t. It was hard to confide in anyone in those days. I only really had myself. That was after they killed my Chirithy.”

“...Chirithy? A friend of yours?”

“Oh… right… you guys wouldn’t know what they are, would you? They were… little creatures given to us when we started Keyblade training. Mostly the helped out with advice on where to go and what to do. You can’t help but become friends with them. They’re with you all the time. I think the Foretellers made them. Nobody has had one since.”

“Like sophisticated pets,” Ansem said slowly. “Possibly to keep an extra eye on all of you.”

“All this spying. I kind of wish people would mind their own business.” He sighed.

“Can you still use the Keyblade?”

“Yeah. I can. I’d prefer not to. I’ve had enough of all this. Just saying.” Demyx looked down at his empty palm. If he had the Keyblade, could he possibly get Arpeggio back? Lea was able to use both his Nobody weapons and his Keyblade. It had to be possible for him, too, right? Even had said that weapons worked differently than their elemental powers, but could he get hurt trying like Ienzo?

He wanted, just for once, to determine his own fate.

“Ansem, I’m sorry, but I have to go,” he said. “There’s something I gotta figure out.”

For the second time that day Demyx went to Even’s apartment. The door was propped open. His coat was on his lap, and he was darning a hole in it. “...Something the matter?” he asked coolly.

“That depends.” Demyx sighed. “Do you think it’s possible for me to regain my sitar? Or do you think it would hurt me like it did Ienzo?”

Even only paused slightly in his stitching. “Truthfully? I think that you will likely be fine. Lea can wield two weapons simultaneously--though why that miscreant needs to be doubly dangerous I have no idea.”

“How do I do it?”

“I’m afraid in that case I’m out of my depths. You might try giving one of them a call. I’m sure Ienzo would not mind if you used his gummiphone in his absence.”

He tugged at the sleeves of his sweater. “Sure. Thanks.” He turned to leave.

“Demyx?” Even set aside the lab coat and approached him. “Could I… perchance… take a look at it?”

“At what?”

“...The Keyblade.” He said it with a great deal of restraint.

“I mean I haven’t consciously summoned it in literally hundreds of years.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be able to.”

Demyx held out his empty palms. He barely had to think about it before it was there, like it had never been gone. He looked at it with familiarity and also with new eyes. He could see Arpeggio in its design--the near-heart of the hilt, the tuning pegs of teeth. It was light, slender, unlike the bulky blades a lot of them carried.

“...Fascinating,” Even mumbled. “Lea’s chakrams were incorporated into his blade as well.” He reached forward, perhaps unconsciously.

“Don’t!” Demyx said quickly, drawing the blade away. “I’m not going to risk passing this on.”

Even raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a virus.”

“It sorta is,” he said.

“As if I would ever be worthy. Very well. If it soothes your neuroses.”

The weapon, in his hands, felt slightly warm, as if it had been sitting in the sun.

“Have you had it long?”

“Literally?”

Even crossed his arms. “You do realize that you simply travelled through time, yes? You’re still only twenty-two. A babe.”

He tried not to bristle. “Since I was five. More or less. That’s just how it was then.”

“How what was?” His eyes had lit up.

Demyx sighed. He let the Keyblade disappear.

He told Even the story from the beginning.

[ladynightshade30]

The Sparrow’s Fox

Author’s Notes: This is a Yakuza A/U where Genji and Hanzo never had their major blow out so Genji never joined Overwatch. If I decide to continue this story though this might change…. This is not a part of the Dark Genji universe. Also I will probably rewrite the conversation she has with her father because it doesn’t go the way I wanted it to go near the end. Please be advised there is talk/implied child sexual abuse in the past.

Genji groaned and rolled over when the buzzing of his phone started to get too annoying to ignore. He snorted and rolled his eyes when he saw his uncle’s name on the screen. He was tempted to press the ignore button when the ringing stopped. A relieved sigh escaped his mouth as he moved to place the phone back on the rickety night stand by the bed intent on rolling over and going back to sleep. But just as he had reached out to pull Brigit against him again the vibrations on his phone started up again causing him to curse loudly and roll back over answering the phone.

“What is it old man?” he asked running his free hand through his hair. “I was asleep.”

“What took you so long?” the older man asked his voice laced with mock worry. “This is the fourth time I‘ve called you. I was starting to wonder if something happened to you.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Genji yawned. “And tell you what you want so I can get back to sleep.”

“There is something I need to speak to you about.”

“Fine I’ll see you tomorrow.” Genji said before disconnecting the call and turning on his phone’s sleep setting.

“Genji?” came a soft voice.

“Hhmm?” he asked as he rolled back over pulling Brigit against him.

“Is everything alright?”

Genji sighed and buried his face in his girlfriend’s shoulder, inhaling her scent. “Yeah my uncle just wants to talk to me about something.”

“What about?” she asked softly as he rolled them both over so he was resting on his back with her on his chest.  

“Not a clue.” He answered as he started running his finger tips down her spine as he settled down to return to sleep. “I’ll figure it out tomorrow. Either way it’s probably nothing important so I’m sure it’s nothing for you to worry about my sweet Kitsune. So let’s go back to sleep.”

“Alright.” She whispered before sharing a quick kiss with him before settling back down on his chest. “Good night.”

“Night.”

####

“Alright I’m here.” Genji said as he collapsed into a chair across from his uncle and put his feet up on the man’s desk much to the older man’s annoyance. “What do you want old man? I’ve got places to be and a girl to get back to.”

“I thought you should see these,” Hideki said as he tossed a manila envelope onto the desk in front of Genji a sick, almost gleeful grin on his face. “Before you saw your little fox again.”

Genji sighed and reached for the envelope, ripping it open so he could pull out whatever it was his uncle wanted him to see. A dark frown crossed his face and he turned his attention to the man his mother had called brother the desire to brutally beat the smug smirk off the older man’s face nearly overwhelming him.

“What the fuck is this?” he hissed launching to his feet and throwing the photos back at the man. “What the FUCK is this?”

“Jealous that you weren’t first?” his uncle asked mockingly.

“She’s five fucking years old you in these you little shit,” Genji snarled his dragon’s own rage threatening to consume his mind and trying to claw its way out of his back. “What the fuck are you doing with these? How the fuck did you even get these?”

“Nothing on the web stays hidden for long.”

Now Genji really did want to beat the man to death because the only way his uncle could have found these were if he had actively looked for them on the dark web.  

“Bury them,” Genji ordered coldly as he pulled his lighter from his pocket and one by one light the photos on fire and dropped them onto the marble desk top watching them burn. “Destroy any evidence they ever existed.”

He took more than a little satisfaction that it was messing up his uncle’s prized desk.

“And if I don’t?” Hideki called after him as Genji headed for the door.

“What?” Genji hissed as he slowly turned to face his uncle as his dragon demands to be set free getting louder.

“What if I don’t bury them?”

Genji felt his dragon growl as he finally released it and it made itself known by slithering out of his back and curling itself around his shoulders to hiss angrily at his uncle. “If you don’t bury it then you will be sorry.”

A cruel smirk crossed his lips and a cold feeling filled the pit of Genji’s stomach at the next words that left Hideki’s mouth. “Even if I do bury those as well as the other pictures not to mention the videos I doubt the next batch will be easy to bury.”

“What the fuck did you do old man?”

“She was after all very popular in these so I would imagine some of them would want to see their little fox all grown up.”  

The words had Genji seeing red as his dragon slid off his shoulder and down his body. The serpentine dragon crossed the room in order to slither up onto the older man’s desk causing the dark smirk on Hideki’s face to slowly fall as he stared at the threatening Dragon before turning his attention to his nephew who was staring at him with the same blood thirsty look on his face.

“You will bury every video and every photo of Brigit,” Genji repeatedly coldly. “And you will do by the end of the night and send me a list of anyone in the area who had them by the end of the week.

“You don’t command me boy!” Hideki snapped defiantly despite the fear that colored his voice. “I am on the Elder’s council!”

“Not anymore.” Genji said coldly before kicking the door shut with his foot.

***

“Genji?” Brigit called out as she walked down the hall wearing one of her boyfriend’s button up shirts, following the noises she heard in the kitchen. “Is that you?”

She froze at the entrance to her kitchen at the sight of the unknown white male standing in her apartment looking through her cabinets. He had slicked back salt and pepper hair with a hideous scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up his cheek and towards the top of his ear. He was wearing stained jeans and a tight black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal some amateurish tattoos. That reminded her of the prison tattoos that she had seen on some of Genji’s friends.

“It’s been awhile pumpkin.” He said casually as he grabbed a mug before she could do more then take a step backwards or say anything.

“Do I know you?” she asked as she slowly started to back up towards her hall entrance while she watched him pour himself a cup of coffee. “And how the hell did you even get into my apartment?”

“Of course you do,” he said turning to face her and giving her a good view of the small scars that ran down his cheek. “I’m your father.”

She shook her head slowly while she continued to move into the hallway intent on getting to her room where her phone was so she could call Genji. “No. No you’re not. You’re the crazy, creepy man in my fucking apartment. And again how the hell did you get into my apartment?”

A frown crossed his face as he slowly set his coffee cup down on the counter with a deep sigh as he started moving around the counter. “That’s no way to speak to your father young lady. Come here now.”

“You’re not my father.” She snapped dashing down the hall for her room.

The strange man dashed after her, grabbing her before she could shut the door to her bedroom, dragging her kicking and screaming back down to the hall before throwing her over the arm of the couch in her front room.

“Let me go,” she screamed as she thrashed about on the arm attempting to kick him away.  

“You know,” the stranger said as he grabbed her hair and shoved her face down into the couch cushions. “If you had just behaved properly like you were supposed to when you were younger we would still be the perfect happy little family. Maybe the two of us can start our own happy little family. I’m sure your Jap lover won’t mind.”

“Fuck you!” she screamed into the material of her couch.

“Honestly my little fox that wasn’t my intent. But you know me I’m always willing to improvise. And if you don’t start behaving I’ll drag you into the bedroom and we can play games again. Or better yet I’ll drag you out onto the balcony and show all your neighbors how much of a whore you are. And maybe if that boy of yours shows up I might be willing to let him have his term before the neighbors. With his reputation I am sure he wouldn’t mind the show of prowess.”

Brigit started thrashing around more violently. “No. No. No!”

The man behind her cursed and whipped her around, slapping her hard across the face causing blood to trickle down her chin. “I will reteach you respect brat.”

***

“Bri?”Genji asked as he burst into the apartment his dragon launching himself off his shoulders to hunt down their young mate.

His heart jumped into his throat when he saw the mess that had been made of her front room.

“Bri?” he asked again slowly moving into the apartment following his dragon’s lead after closing the door silently behind him as he released one of the kunai he kept in his jacket sleeve.

“Genji,” whimpered a soft voice from the kitchen.

“Bri,” Genji whispered softly as he followed his cooing and mewling dragon towards the voice.

His dragon led him to the kitchen where he saw a bleeding and whimpering Brigit leaning against the refrigerator in the corner of the room.

“Baby,” Genji breathed as he rushed to her side and gently cupped her face his fingers trailing over her cheeks to check for anything broken or cracked. “Are you okay?”

His only answer was a soft moan, followed by a whimper of pain as she peered at him from behind a swollen eye. His hands quickly ghosted along her body feeling for breaks, sprains or cracks.

“Thank the gods nothing feels broken,” he murmured softly before reaching up to cup her face .

Carefully Genji gathered her up into his arms muttering soft, ‘I know I know’ into her ear when she moaned in pain while he carried her to her room, setting her down on the bed as gently as possible. His dragon curled himself in her lap and mewled softly as his soft light filled the darkened room, trying to comfort her as best he could without hurting her. Genji made sure she was settled comfortably as much as he could before trying to get up only to be stopped by her hand on his wrist.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered carefully brushing her hair from her face. “I’m just going to call a doctor and get some ice packs for you.”

Genji placed a soft kiss against the side of her mouth, doing his best to avoid her bruises, before he slipped from the room and made his way down the hall pulling out his phone not only to call a doctor but to call some of the family’s enforcers to track down his lovely Fox’s father and hold him until further notice. In the meantime he made another call to a high end hotel and made arrangements for her to stay there until he could get the damage cleaned up.

[creativewritingfinalportfolio]

Short Story

The sun's warm rays spread over Northern California, illuminating the suburban town of Trabajando's grandiose houses and well kept lawns. Cycling back home after a long night working on the Bernie campaign in one of the city's many bike lanes was our hero Maple Lacroix. Maple parked her bike in the shed next to her modest but well kept house and glanced across the street. She noticed that the "for sale" sign across the street had been replaced with one declaring the property had been sold. She briefly wondered who could have possibly bought the least energy efficient house in all of Trabajando, but set aside her musings for a time when she wasn't half asleep. The next day Maple set off to work on her bike. She enjoyed the work she did for her paid internship at an up and coming law firm, but what truly made the position perfect for her was the flexible hours. She was immediately swarmed by a group of her coworkers upon entering the stout brick building. "Maple! Thank goodness you're here!" exclaimed Aspen, her coworker. "We're absolutely swamped! TPD has already received five complaints this morning about the Cringé family!" Maple's other coworker Chia clarified. "Who?" Maple questioned. "The Cringé family- they're new in town, just moved in across the street from you," Aspen said. "While everyone in this town prides themselves on being open minded, people just can't excuse wastefulness or toxic masculinity!" After careful examination of the evidence, Maple attended a one o'clock briefing on the situation. A man in a suit was giving a presentation at the front of the room. "As you can see," he said, "the Cringé family poses no serious threat to Trabajando." The room burst into chatter. Lawyers and other interns frantically scrambled to record the information. Maple, being familiar with the facts of the case, jumped at the chance to correct him. "You've got that wrong!" Maple's clear voice rang out. The room fell silent. "The Cringé family is the most serious threat to Trabajando we've seen in a long time. But not to worry. I have a plan." "Wait a second, you're just an intern!" The man in the suit cried. "I may be an intern," she glanced around the room, "but this is a really good idea, I swear!"

Maple marched through the doors of the Bernie campaign's main office with a stately air of purpose. The room looked the same as always- star spangled posters, a cardboard cutout of the senator himself, a few local high school students lounging around, sitting on top of the desks they were supposed to be working behind. Maple had grown relatively close to the politically active bunch, and decided they would be of great value in helping her with the mission. "Alright guys, I need your help," she declared. "Lit! Everyone in this town's already voting for Bernie, so we've been doing nothing for the past two hours," one of the teenagers said. Maple turned off the lights for dramatic effect. "A darkness has come to this land and we are Trabajando's last hope of defeating it. Without us, their ignorance and misinformation will only spread. We must fight... the Cringé family!" Her rallying cry echoed throughout the room. A girl in the corner turned the lights back on. "The what?" "I've mapped it all out for you," Maple pulled out a scroll from her messenger bag and unfurled it. "The Cringé family has four children. The eldest, according to our information, is stereotypical thirty one year old brony. The youngest is sixteen. I've dubbed her 'Gravity Falls Kintypes' due to careful examination of the before you follow requirements in her tumblr bio." Maple clicked to the next slide on the PowerPoint that suddenly appeared behind her. Teal words on a lavender background read "do not follow if you ID as Dipper or Mabel. I am literally both of them". A collective shudder spread throughout the room. "It gets worse," Maple warned. "Upward of twenty self diagnosed mental illnesses, plus neopronouns. The middle children are also threats. I've located the twenty year old's true crime blog, where she keeps a record of her adventures in shoplifting and serial killer fanfiction. But the fedora tipping seventeen year old... he might be the worst of them all." "We've never defeated a fedora tipper before!" cried a girl with her hair tied up in Sailor Moon buns. "I know," Maple conceded, "but nothing about this is anything like what we've seen before. What we need is a team of not just social justice warriors, but social justice heroes. That's why I've come to you four." "I want a superhero name!" the girl with the Sailor Moon buns announced. "What's wrong with Stacy Jeanette Webster? Your initials are already S-J-W," a scrub in the back of the room pointed out. "It's lame! I want to be Pilot Sun, get it? Like Sailor Moon?" "Unfortunately," an edgy looking girl with pastel pink hair and a nose ring groaned. "You reblog Sailor Moon stuff all the time, you aesthetic hoe!" The edgy girl flipped her hair. "Yeah, but only when it's my aesthetic." "Your superhero name would be Pastel Goth. You know, like in your blog description!" Stacy suggested enthusiastically. "Guys, we're not superheroes! If anything, we're admittedly less than stellar heroes seeing as you four have been sitting around here doing nothing all day when there's a real threat to our city outside!" Maple exclaimed suddenly. "Wow, saucy. You know, you're a real crunchy granola type but you can get pretty upsetti sometimes. Have some vegan spaghetti," commented a guy in a hoodie. "Come on, guys, Maple's right! We have to save the city!" Stacy urged.

After a few hours of careful strategizing, our heroes had a plan in place. Direct confrontation was decidedly the best attack method. They found the various member of the Cringé family doing exactly what they had predicted. Gravity Falls Kintypes was verbally assaulting the elderly bus driver for assuming her pronouns. With the power of recommending a therapist to help her work through her attention seeking issues, Gravity Falls Kintypes, now known by her birth name, Emily, was saved from a life of cringe. The brony was found harassing women at a local coffee shop. After a lecture on respect, the heroes decided to let him keep doing his thing watching children's cartoons. "As long as he's not hurting anyone, it's his life," Pastel Goth reasoned. A basic economics lesson was enough to get True Crime to stop her shoplifting habit. In fact, after learning how harshly workers were treated under American capitalism, she started working on the Bernie campaign. Her mass murderers blog slowly faded as her interests shifted from killing sprees to social justice. The final challenge was the fedora tipping neckbeard. Maple's blue Honda Fit pulled up outside the public library. "I'm scared. What if we fail?" Pilot Sun's voice quivered. "Failure is simply not an option. Besides, we have all the resources we need. We have MySpace Edgelord to bond with him over their shared edginess." The emo teen flipped her emo hair. "Science Side is an IT millennial- he knows every science!" The scientist zipped his hoodie. "We'd better get in there," he said. "The library's closing soon." Fedora Tipper was found on the third floor of the library reading manga left to right. The team hid behind a bookshelf. "Pilot Sun, go act like a clueless idiot," Maple instructed. "Roger that!" The weeb left their hiding place. She made her way towards another bookshelf. "I wonder if there's anything here my feeble female mind can comprehend," she mumbled thoughtfully. She reached for an old Blue Exorcist. "Oh absolutely not," the fedora tipper materialized behind her. "He's in position! Move in!" Maple commanded. Pastel Goth jumped into action. "Excuse me, were you in need of some help?" "I was just telling this female about the intricacies of dimensions and exorcisms. You know, basic stuff," the fedora tipper sniffed self righteously. "Dimensions, eh?" Science Side thrust himself into the conversation. "Ricky Kremer taught me all about those. (Smart science statement)?" A look of worry crossed Fedora Tipper's face. He didn't know any actual science. "Um, I- I was speaking in metaphor, you know, about the black hole of my soul." Maple's Cheshire grin spread wider as she watched the scene play out from behind the bookcase. "So he's trying to use edginess to walk back his pseudoscience, eh? Well, no one out-edges our secret weapon." MySpace Edgelord emerged from the shadows to join the fight. "Hey." She flipped her hair. "Want to listen to MCR unironically and cry about what an under appreciated character Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way is?" Fedora Tipper recoiled. Victory was in sight for our heroes. However, at the last second, the 4chan user broke out of the semicircle they had created around him and dashed towards the stairs. Maple knew there was only one thing left to do. She sprinted after him. "Aaaahjrfbueh!" she cried as she tackled him. They rolled down the stairs, still wrestling. "Maple!" the vegan's loyal team chorused. They peered over the balcony. "It's okay! I'm okay!" Maple assured them. She had pinned Fedora Tipper to the ground. After the team used their superpowers of logic and reason to convince Fedora Tipper to be a decent human being, they left the library. The sky was a vibrant shade of pink as they piled into Maple's blue Honda Fit. The warm California day had faded into a cool and breezy evening. "Hey Maple, how'd you manage to catch him so fast?" Pastel Goth asked. Maple shrugged. "Lots of cycling." "I'm starving!" Pilot Sun yawned. "I need to update my blog," Pastel Goth said, frantically pulling out her phone. "I love science!" Science Side exclaimed. MySpace Edgelord cried. Maple smiled. Her team of heroes had saved the day.