#your dying wish’ (dying this case being. metaphorical. y��know)

[thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed]

Can you please please do a Wednesday X Fem Reader where thy are dating and it can be like parts where one, finding out about readers cancer, then dealing with it, then trying to fight it, but the treatment not working, so the reader is slowly dying and Wednesday does all the things reader likes for them and always stays with them. Then after R's death Wednesday tries to cope with it for weeks and months but in the couldn't anymore so she hints the dark ending. The Angst will be out of this world

Ghost Of You

Word count: 3.8K

Summary: request above

Warnings: angst, terminal cancer, anything to do with cancer, death, loss, depression, mentions of suicide

Pairing: Wednesday Addams X Fem!Reader

I need a hug after writing this. I think it’s my longest fic so far, I hope you like it!🖤✨

———

Your relationship with Wednesday was by far the best thing you could ever wish for, and it shocked you when out of the three people that were interested in her, she chose you. You never expected her to choose you because you thought you weren’t as pretty as Tyler or Xavier… well, everyone thought she liked boys because she was always hanging out with one, but turns out she liked women, and you were her first and only choice. Sure you weren’t perfect, but Wednesday always made sure you knew you were perfect to her… obviously using her ways. She never told you directly, more through metaphors but you didn’t mind, you knew that this was her love language and somehow you had to admit you didn’t mind that. You weren’t one for hugs or cuddles yourself, but it would happen from time to time that you and her would sleep together, and the most contact you had even in bed was your arm around her waist, nothing more nothing less.

In class you would always sit together, paying attentions and taking notes for each other when one of you stayed in your room because you were sick or something like that. Of course Wednesday’s note were always so clean and tidy, and yours would be decorated with the doodles you drew when you were bored. Recently though you have been feeling sicker than usual. You didn’t have a fever, but you were always so weak and tired, even if you slept for hours nothing would change. You would sweat a lot even when you were not moving, and you were always so pale. This was no other case. “(Y/N), you need to sleep. You can’t always be this tired and not pay attention.” Your girlfriend recently has always been trying to help you and get you to sleep, even if her ways were a bit too harsh. You were in your botany class so you had to keep it low “Wednesday I’m sleeping a lot at night, I don’t know what’s happening to me” you sand as you wiped your forehead from the new bead of sweat.

Wednesday noticed that and put a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. “You’re warm. You should go to the infirmary.” You nodded slightly and got up, but as soon as you did you started feeling dizzy. “I’m not… feeling very well…” you tried to hold yourself up but you lost consciousness and fell to the ground. Without saying a word Wednesday got up and rushed to your side. The teacher came towards you as well, and given as you may have hit your head when falling, she called an ambulance. When it arrived you were still unconscious and you remained unconscious for a few hours… weird, for just a high temperature. Being the protective girlfriend she was, Wednesday wanted to get on the ambulance but no one let her, so she had to wait until lessons were over, and she did, going to the hospital with Weems. “How is she?” The short Ravenette girl asked.

The doctor sighed. “Unfortunately we only have bad news… she has stage 4 cancer. Has she ever shown signs of weakness?” The news threw Wednesday off, she never expected such bad news just because you passed out. Wednesday stayed quiet for a while, until Weems nudged her shoulder, both to remind her she had to answer the question and to get her out of her thoughts. “She was always tired these past few weeks, she said it was because she studied too hard… she was never this sick. Is it treatable?” The doctor took notes and then sighed. “We can try, but it most likely won’t work. It’s not operable but we can immediately start with aggressive chemotherapy, this could give us some hope even if she’ll be very very sick.” Both Wednesday and Weems nodded. Weems was your guardian so she had to agree to the treatment. “How long does she have left?” Wednesday asked, her voice low and soft, as the doctor shook his head with a sigh. “Not much. Close to a year, maybe even less.”

Weems wanted to be the one to tell you as she basically raised you, so Wednesday stayed out of the room. When Wednesday finally came into your hospital room, she saw you cry desperately while in Weems’s arms, she was crying as well. You refused to believe that your life was basically over, you had your whole life ahead of you yet it got ripped from you. You had planned a lot of stuff with your friends, with your girlfriend. You hadn’t been together for that long, But you two were definitely made for one another, and even though you wanted to wait to have some more physical contact with her, now it couldn’t wait anymore. Wednesday grew sick at the sight of you so desperate, she couldn’t bare to see you like this and for the first time in her life, it hurt her as well seeing someone in pain. She had promised you too many times that she’d protect you, but she couldn’t protect you from this, there wasn’t any chance that she could do so. Wednesday looked down, trying to prevent her own eyes to water.

When you had calmed down a bit you asked Weems to be left alone with Wednesday and of course she left the room. Wednesday looked at you as she made her way over to you. “I-I don’t want to die…” you said trying not to cry again, as you covered your face with your hands. Wednesday didn’t hesitate to come towards you and hug you, for the first time in your relationship she hugged you. “I know mi amor. I’m so sorry.” Wednesday herself was trying so hard not to cry. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but she knew that when you left, it would destroy her. You refused to stay in the hospital, deciding that you’d take your treatments in your dorm. You didn’t want to live your last year in a hospital, you wanted to make the best out of it with your girlfriend and your best friends. Your doctors allowed you to, and Weems even changed your dorm so that you’d be with Wednesday.

Your first treatment was at the hospital, and even though it was really heavy, you went through it easily. You had decided to take your illness on a brighter side: You were going to die anyway, but why be sad instead of making the best out of it? When you went back to school all your friends were there for you, they did whatever they could to try and cheer you up and it worked in some ways, because when you happened to be alone, you’d always break down. You didn’t want your friends to see you always sad, you wanted them to remember you like the happy girl you have always been and always will be, in their memory. Wednesday had changed as well. She was more protective, more attentive to you and what you did, she wanted to make sure you were happy and fine until your last breath, and she wanted you to have as many memories with her as you could. She loved you so much and deep down she was hurting too, but she never showed it, she never vented to anyone. She had to tend to you.

Your treatments were in the afternoon, after school in yours and Wednesday’s dorm. It had now been two months since you had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and slowly but surely you were getting weaker, sicker. But you still managed to keep going. One morning you woke up and when you went to the bathroom to brush your hair… they just came away like it was cotton candy. Literally you took a strand of your hair and it would come away without any effort. You had expected this, but it didn’t feel like you had anticipated. “W-Wednesday?” You called for her and she dropped whatever she was doing to come to you. “Yes my love?” She said, and looked at you through the mirror. You were looking at yourself with tears in your eyes and strands of hair in hour hands, unable to speak.

Wednesday took the hair you were holding and put them in the sink, as she placed a hand on your cheek and turned you to look at her, caressing both your cheeks as her eyes showed a hint of sadness as she gave a small smile. “This is good though, right? It means that the chemo is working. Right?” You were panicking, tears filled your eyes even more as they rolled down your cheek. You had been trying to deny the fact that you were sick but now it was undeniable. Wednesday sighed and pulled you in a tight hug, where you broke and fell to your knees, Wednesday caught you and accompanied you to the ground as you two stayed in that desperate hug, where you did nothing but cry, scream and grip Wednesday close to you. “I don’t want to die…” you sobbed out, while the brunette was holding you tightly, rubbing your back. “I know…” she said in a surprising soft tone, it would be surprising to everyone else but you, because recently she has always been soft to you.

Wednesday’s eyes let a couple tears fall, but she looked up and gulped, she had to be strong for you. That day you shaved your head to get rid of the last bit of hair that remained, from that day on you were never the same. You no longer smiled every day, you no longer made jokes about anything and you didn’t leave your room aside from school. It had been six months now and You had also started loosing weight and you hated that. You looked like a corpse, pale and basically skin and bone. It was a morning like every other and you were getting ready for school, but when in your underwear you stared at yourself in the mirror. You hated how you looked, you hated all of it. As you cried and sniffled Wednesday hugged you from behind, hands around your waist and her head on your shoulder. You were pretty much the same height, so it was no problem for her.

“I look terrible…” you said in a soft voice as you placed your hands on top of Wednesday’s. “You don’t. Mi amor you’re the prettiest girl I have ever seen” you shook your head and turned around to look at her, her arms still wrapped around you. “Wednesday, I’m dying.. I only have like six months left and I look like shit now. There’s no way I look pretty” you sighed as you hid your face under her neck. “You’ll always look pretty. Skinny, normal weight, short hair, long hair… you’ll always be pretty wether it’s here or in my mind, you’re still the prettiest girl I know… no wonder you’re my girlfriend” she said and you smiled brightly, staying in her embrace. Three more months had passed, you had now only three months left. Chemo obviously didn’t work so you interrupted it, even if you still would get sicker and it was showing. Your friends were still trying to make you happy whenever they could. Weems even let you all go on a trip to Los Angeles, you have always wanted to go there and you finally managed to make that dream come true.

On a Monday morning you woke up feeling extra weak. Wednesday was still asleep, but you had to go to the bathroom. You got up and out of bed, but as soon as you were on your feet you immediately fell down… you couldn’t even hold yourself up on your feet anymore. “Fuck-“ you said as you tried to stand back up, but you couldn’t. You started crying, calling for Wednesday but she was in a deep sleep, until you managed to raise your voice more. “Wednesday please wake up…” you sobbed out. Finally she did wake up and soon saw you on the floor. “(Y/N)? What happened?” She asked as she rushed to your side, to try and lift you up and place you on the bed. You tried to help by pushing yourself up, but you couldn’t. “I had to go to the bathroom, but when I got up my legs failed me, I can’t even hold myself up anymore…” you looked down and cried. Wednesday hated seeing you like this and it wasn’t long now until your time was up and you’d be gone. Luckily doctors had you prepared for this inconvenient and had left you a wheelchair. With Wednesday’s help you sat there so she could take you to class.

You were giving up. You couldn’t keep fighting knowing you’d die anyway… it was no use. You even refused to celebrate your birthday, you stayed in your room, just cuddling with Wednesday knowing that this would be the last birthday you’d spend with her. “I don’t want you to cry when I die..” you said all of the sudden. You were basically laying half on top of her with your head under her neck. Wednesday stayed quiet at your request. “It wouldn’t be you. I want you to be the girl you always have been, I don’t want you to change because of me… I just want you to remember me and not forget about me.” You said as you took a deep breath and stayed close to her. “My love I will never forget about you. You will forever be my only love, I can’t find someone like you nor even close. There’s only one (Y/N) and only one person who has my heart, and that person is you.”

Three more months passed… you were back at the hospital. You had gotten sicker, to the point that you needed a mask to help you breathe. Wednesday was always there by your side, never leaving you. Both of you knew that your end was near and she did whatever she could to make you as comfortable and as happy as possible. You were in a lot of pain, you were having troubles breathing… until the dreaded day came. Wednesday and Weems were in your room, you knew that life would leave your body pretty soon. After talking to Weems who was crying desperately you moved your attention to Wednesday, taking a hold of your hand. “Nes I’m scared” you sobbed out weakly as you searched for her eyes. She looked at you and squeezed your hand tightly “I know you’re scared my love.. but it’ll be okay… you’re going to be okay” she said and caressed your face, all while you winced in pain, your whole body hurt, everything hurt. “N-nes, promise me you’ll be okay” you asked, you wanted her to be okay when you left.

“Promise me you’ll continue with your life, that you will be happy. But promise me you’ll always remember me, and that you’ll always love me” you cried out, and she leaned in to place her forehead on yours “I promise you mi amor” she said and leaned in for a kiss, which you reciprocated… your last. You saved your last breath and your energy for this kiss, and then you were gone. You died kissing your girlfriend and you couldn’t ask for a better death.

———

Enid came rushing through the hospital, tears in your eyes as she busted the door open, she didn’t like what she saw one bit… Weems was crying desperately while sitting on your bed and trying to hug you, while Wednesday sat in her chair. Fists and jaw clenched as she looked down. She was trying so hard not to cry, and she was managing so far. Wednesday didn’t do tears. Wednesday had promised you she’d never cry, and she never did. In her life Wednesday only cried once, when her pet scorpio died, and now she was scared she would cry again and if she did, she wouldn’t recover ever again. “Is she gone?…” Enid asked, making her way towards Wednesday, who only gave a nod in response. Her knuckles had turned white from how tight she was keeping her fists, nails biting into her flash. “I’m sorry…” Enid said, sitting next to Wednesday and placing her head on her shoulder.

Wednesday always liked funerals, she even attended the ones of people she didn’t know. But your funeral was something else… because she knew you, she loved you and seeing you being put into the ground, just hurt. Every student from Nevermore was there and all of them wished their condolences to the principal, and even tried to do the same with Wednesday. She kept avoiding everyone, she didn’t want to hear people tell her how sorry they were for her loss. The whole week it has been raining, but it was sunny that day, and your funeral was right at dawn… god did you make a beautiful sunset. Your favorite colors were in the sky, from purple to orange and Wednesday has never liked colors more, she wanted to frame this moment forever. When everyone left Wednesday stayed at your grave.

Wednesday had promised you she’d never stay at your grave, yet here she was.

Wednesday had promised you she’d be happy… but she couldn’t, not after losing you.

Wednesday had promised you she wouldn’t cry, yet here she was.

For the first time she was crying. A couple tears had left her eyes, but it was just that. She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve, smearing her dark, light makeup. She stayed at your grave for hours, just staring at the beautiful picture of you smile, and Wednesday remembered: you had never seem her smile. You talked a lot about wanting to see her smile, yet you never did. Wednesday couldn’t keep one single promise to you. She cried, she wasn’t happy. It was hard to keep these promises. She would have had no issue with that, but with you.. she couldn’t stand to know that she had broken her promises to you, and it hurt, it hurt so bad. But she couldn’t let her façade drop, she had to keep it up.

Wednesday was destroyed. Her grades in school had dropped, she barely left her room. She didn’t have any interest anymore, she didn’t hang out with her friends. The room she shared with you was filled with your scent and she didn’t want to forget about it, she didn’t want to forget about you, she couldn’t. You were too young to die, and you were both too dumb to know things like “Love” so she drowned it all down, talking to what now is the ghost of you, telling you how she misses you, talking about everything she could think of, and mostly, saying sorry. What was she sorry for? She was scared she hadn’t been a good girlfriend, she was scared she hasn’t been enough for you, and she just wanted the confirmation that she did whatever she could to make you happy, but you couldn’t give her this confirmation, not anymore.

Wednesday started skipping classes, she never did that. Wednesday stopped writing her very loved novel. Wednesday was depressed.

Eventually she had to move back in with Enid, and the girl was so keen on wanting to make her vent. “Wednesday it’s been months now. You need to talk to someone. We barely see you around anymore, please just talk to me.” Enid tried, sitting on her friend’s bed. “I’m fine Enid. I don’t need to talk to anyone.” Wednesday replied bitterly, nails gripping her desk as she was drawing something she didn’t even know what it was. The blonde stayed quiet for a while. “You know what Wednesday, I’m tired of this. I’m tired of seeing you, my best friend, being depressed for her girlfriend’s death. And I don’t mean it in a bad way, I want you to understand that it’s okay to be depressed, that it’s okay to be sad but it’s also okay to talk to someone. We all miss her, but we also know that it’s been the hardest on you. Please Wednesday just talk to me, to any us” she said the last part whispering.

Wednesday put the pencil down as she turned to look at her friend. She didn’t know how to begin, where to start from. She felt tears building up in her eyes as she tightened her fists and jaw, she didn’t want to cry. Wednesday didn’t want to cry, not in front of Enid. Wednesday was crying.

A couple tears had rolled down her cheek, but she wasn’t making any sound. She just looked at Enid, who smiled sadly. “You can let go… it’s just us-“ “Don’t.” Wednesday was quick to shush her and while her mind spoke this fake truth, her body language Said otherwise. The ravenette started visibly shaking, her breaths becoming closer to one another and quicker that her usual. All the emotions she has been bubbling up burst out all at once as she started crying this time it was a real cry, it wasn’t just a couple tears, Wednesday was crying, sobbing on her chair as she covered her face with her hands. Enid made her way towards Wednesday and pulled her into a hug. “No! G-get away from me-“ she tried, but Enid was stronger. “I won’t Wens. Stop trying” the blonde insisted, keeping her close to her.

Wednesday eventually gave in and cried more in the hug, her friend’s shirt who tried to comfort her while holding her close, Wednesday was screaming, sobbing, everything she has always been trying to deny. “Oh my g-god-“ Wednesday sobbed out, thinking of you again. It seemed like she was trying to deny the fact that you had died until now. “You’ll be okay Wednesday… it’ll pass with time” Enid tried to reassure her, but From that day on, Wednesday only felt worst. Now she didn’t get out of her bed, she didn’t stop crying.

Then on this particular day, Wednesday felt happy.

They say it’s a matter of time

A thousand days and the sun won’t shine

Before I come back to you…

And I’m happy, nothing’s going to stop me

I’m making my way home

I’m making my way

Wednesday felt happy, because

For your love I will go far

I wanna be wherever you are

I know I’m coming back to you.

Wednesday was happy, because she was soon going ti be with you forever.

[suffering-with-fiery]

Rune translations and Bottom theories (I did my best!) (: It's long! I mean REALLY REALLY REALLY LONG!!!! You've been warned. (Potential TWs below the cut) yeah Hyoga doesn't have a good time here.

I should probably start calling Hyoga "Hyouga" instead since I'm pretty sure it's spelled with a 'U'... but I probably won't. Apologies.

Bottom English translation by Tackmyn Y! (I can't speak Japanese, again, apologies, though I was able to make my own version of Autophagy)

Potential TWs (I dont want to harm anyone by going on this rant): Autophagy (medical terms), nightmares, demons tormenting a guy, Hyoga being unhealthy in more ways than one, mentions of death/murder, self esteem issues, mentions of destructive behavior, manipulation, violence.

Yeah, my boy Hyoga ain't having a good time in this theory.

I feel the need to clarify that this is all speculation. So uh. Everything here is just what I've been thinking about since I hopped into this rabbit hole.

Sinfan (I'm not sure what order they go in, it's quite hard to tell):

["Death"

"I"

"Revive"

"Spirit"

"I"

"Something with shape"]

I'm not fully sure what "something with shape" means, but there's a possibility that Sinfan could be referring to Hyoga, (a doll/wax figure) or maybe that Sinfan needs something with a shape to be able to exist. Sinfan could need a vessel to stay on the mortal plain and go undetected while staying alive.

Sinfan needs a vessel. And with that thought, it launches into indecipherable theory crafting.

Hyoga summoned Sinfan when he was 12 years old. Thinking he found a vessel, he called upon Pabometh, another grey demon, to help torment Hyoga so the two could get their wish.

Hyoga, at the time, is young, dumb and susceptible to manipulation, meaning it could be easy for Sinfan to grasp the situation with an iron grip which follows Hyoga into adulthood.

"Revival" could also be referring to "Rebirth," symbolized by a butterfly. It could also mean that Sinfan/Pabo has the powers to revive people. Maybe as a last resort if they need it.

In Hiiragi Kirai's album trailer on Youtube, Hyoga shows up in a scene with 'D' and 'B' in calligraphy on each cheek. They could mean "Death" and "Birth" respectively.

Lines from Autophagy:

"I just wants a peaceful life." Likely means Hyoga wants the demons gone so he can live how he wants to. (Who wouldn't?)

"The voice inside my head? Huh... how odd." Also implies that the demons are still with him.

"My body pulses, memories from my past bringing pain." Means that in Autophagy, Hyoga remembers his past, but it hurts him.

""You can't avoid it in life, so it's best to just deal with it." You say, but you dont seem bothered." Is most likely Sinfan talking to Hyoga. It could also mean that Hyoga can't avoid the demons, so he should just deal with it.

"I can't stop now, so pretend nothing happened!" Could be Hyoga trying to ignore the demons, or maybe he did something he shouldn't have. (Always knew those were prison tattoos...)

"I want to wash my skull out! I want to say bye bye! But yet I didn't do it..." Could mean that the demons are still with him in Autophagy and likely still tormenting him.

"I won't stop, I can't look back." Might mean Hyoga is trying to move on, but with the demons still in his head, he can't, so the "Let me forget!" after the instrument solo might be him wishing that he never remembered in the first place and trying to get the demons to take them away again.

"Just stay away from me!" Could be Hyoga distancing himself from everyone he knows, or trying to get the demons to go away.

"Hello! HAHAHAHA Hello! HAHAHAHAHA!" Might be Hyoga as he slowly loses his remaining sanity due to constant tormenting and pressure from the demons.

"A A A A- 'Allo/Allow/Arrow" could all imply different things, so I'll give a short on all of them.

"'Allo!" Is just an abbreviation of "Hello."

"Arrow!" -According to a quick google search- is a common symbolism for peace and philosophical ideas, and used for protection and hunting. It could mean that Hyoga just wants peace and quiet, which is enforced by "I just want a peaceful life." in the beginning.

"Allow!" Could mean that the demons are trying even harder to bend him to their will and take him over as a vessel. They want Hyoga to allow them to posses him so they can do whatever they please.

Pabo only has 2 that I can see:

["Nightmare"

"Save (?)ime"]

It might be "time" but I couldn't make out the rune symbol there.

"Nightmare" hardens my thought that Bottom is just a massive nightmare set up by the demons to torment Hyoga, that the song is sung from the perspective of one of the demons (likely Pabo), and that Young Hyoga(tm) in the video is Pabometh playing the part of his repressed/forgotten memories.

This is all assuming the song is, infact, sung by the demons.

Lines from Bottom:

"You're keeping me alive! Today, today, you're killing me!" Could go both ways (Pabo/Sinfan and Hyoga) For Pabo it could just be another variation of the next line I'm about to talk about.

For Hyoga it could mean that he wouldn't be able to function if he didn't have the demons (Sinfan might posses him to make him fit in so nobody notices, keep him from dying from mortal wounds, and he's lived with them so long he might not know what to do without them), but with them he's slowly tearing himself apart from the inside out due to their constant tormenting. Metaphorically or literally is anyone's guess at the moment.

"Autophagy" (his songs name) is a medical term for "self eat" which normally happens when your body is starved, so it eats it's own cells to survive as long as it can. It can also correlate to certain diseases. Autophagy in these terms might also be referring to emotions. It's possible he's been stewing in any sort of negative emotions to cause such effects. (I.E: Guilt, fear, self worth issues,) which could make his resolve weaker, making it easier for Pabo and Sinfan to torment him/possess him. The longer it goes on, the closer he could be to self destructing.

"A wax figure/a doll is keeping me alive/killing me." Is more related to the demons in my eyes. "Wax figure/a doll" is likely referring to Hyoga. Hyoga could be their only tie to the mortal realm, (Sinfan being more prominent because he was summoned first, and by Hyoga himself.)

It could also mean that they need to inhabit his mind/body in order to survive and make it easier to torment Hyoga. If they both are in Hyoga's mind 24/7 while he suffers from nightmares (which cause lack of sleep, keeping his body in a perpetually weak state), no self worth, and a fragile mental state ("I wanna keep you out of my fragile mind!") while he tears himself apart, it would mean it would be harder to stay with him without something happening.

Due to that, it's likely that the very thing keeping them alive and in the mortal realm is also killing them at the same time.

It may be worth mentioning that a line in Bottom is "You think you're a god to me?" while 9lore translated Rinen's (Möbius') tattoo on his chest, which reads "Be still and know that I am god." It could a a coincidence, but I thought I'd mention it just in case (:

Throughout the entire song the demons are mocking and belittling Hyoga. (I.E: "Defying all logic, you're nothing but evil." "You're so stupid! You scumbag, scumbag, scumbag!") Most of the angry rant type of thing happens when Young Hyoga (tm) is on-screen. (It could be a tactic to make Hyoga not want to remember/manipulate his memories/tear down his resolve even more/or just plain upset him.)

"I mean, who, who, who are you?" It's been made clear that for the longest time (according to WOOMA) Hyoga didn't even remember his own name. "Who are you?" might be Pabo trying to get into Hyoga's head and make him question his own sanity.

"What the hell are you to me?" Implies that Pabo also want Hyoga to question why Pabo is here. Sinfan was summoned by Hyoga, but Pabometh was likely summoned by Sinfan to help tear down Hyoga. That means the two don't have much history, and Hyoga most likely doesn't know why Pabo is here for awhile.

It's "you to me" instead of "me to you" so Pabo could also be trying to get Hyoga to try and notice him in a positive way so that the nightmares stop. I'll expand on that some more a few (a lot) of paragraphs down.

"Inside my heart is- such a rage! Such a rage! So I'll grab you, grasp you, and crush you flat!" Is a line I find interesting. It also leads directing into another line; "The symptom of the unforgettable emotion is my burning intent to murder, which is absolutely right." Pabo would likely be talking about Hyoga, which implies that if he could, Pabo would murder Hyoga himself, but since the "wax figure" is needed to keep both him and his accomplice, Sinfan, alive, he can't.

It also implies that Pabo is extremely angry with Hyoga, for a reason I can't particularly pinpoint, except maybe for the fact that Hyoga's becoming more and more unstable and not safe for Pabo and Sinfan. The only problem is, it's Pabo and Sinfans fault he's like that. They're the ones that chose Hyoga as a vessel while simultaneously destroying him.

However, it's possible that Pabo's aim was to devoid Hyoga of anything and everything, (I.E: memories, emotions, etc. etc.) so that he was just that: a vessel. But with Hyoga being so destructive to himself, the whole plan could have gone awry and Pabo's only thought was how furious he was at Hyoga for messing up his chance to be in the mortal realm undetected for good, meaning he wishes he could destroy Hyoga and just get it over with so him and Sinfan could wait until someone else summoned them so they could take advantage of that.

""How deplorable you are! How deplorable you are!"" Is a line that has a chance of Hyoga himself having said it due to it having quotes on it. It also implies that he he could be fighting back, so his resolve might not crushed completely. However, a show of strength like that would likely just enrage Pabometh even more than he already is. It also doesn't help the positive impression he wants Pabo to have of him.

"You're involving yourself with me again like a clingy, clingy neighbor!" Sounds like Pabo, again, insulting Hyoga. If we go off of another part of this fever dream I've cooked up, (Hyoga not knowing what to do without the demons, but with them destroying himself), sounds like Pabo doesn't want to be with Hyoga anymore, going as far as hating him so much he's festering in it.

The "again" makes it sound like Hyoga's tried to communicate with them more than once, being unsuccessful each time. Hyoga could be trying to latch onto them, either to take them down with him or trying to get the nightmares to stop. Like I said, for a while Hyoga could have been trying to get positive attention and make Pabo like him.

"The low-end is going to manipulate me." Could be Pabo addressing that he knows what Hyoga was trying to do and calling him out for it.

"Brimming with momentary anger, rot away quickly, quickly, quickly!" Again, Pabo is talking about his burning hatred for Hyoga.

"I'm always losing! How, how dare you!" Implies that even with all the nightmares and torment, Hyoga has just enough willpower to keep Pabo from getting his wish, angering him even more.

And finally, a line from Autophagy:

"Oh, rise seeds of evil, bursting with malice!" Might be Hyoga finally giving into the demons and becoming their vessel if they take away his painful memories and stop hurting him.

Pentagram:

["-r Guide(A) N(?)E A(?)R"

"The ability to know wh-"

"Grant me the power to be strong in spirit-"

"Grant me the wisdom to understand-"]

With it over Pabo, it's possible that this was the one that summoned Pabo instead of Sinfan, although with it also under Hyoga, it could be Sinfan's. Who knows, it might also be boths.

In the ending scene with the pentagram, the colors of the other songs are visible, meaning that it's possible all of them are connected.

(I could go on for hours about the small loopholes that I think mean all the songs are connected in specific ways. Either way I know they're all from the same universe.)

With all their colors on it, it might mean they all have a demon of their own.

I'm still working slightly on the pentagram, I'll probably keep ya updated if I can find out what the rest of it says (:

If anyone can find the full version (preferably readable) of the pentagram, that'd be lovely (if it even exists)

(If you find more runes in "Bottom" or another Hiiragi song I'd be happy to see if I can translate it (: I'm not very good though, and I can't speak Japanese-)

English translation of Bottom used by: Tackmyn Y (I don't know where you are but you're a lifesaver)

Find any spelling errors, let me know! I'll see if I can fix 'em (:

If you read this far, what're you doing??

Have an absolutely amazing day!!! <3

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

pls scream about Leo a lil bit cause my love for that man is neverending and i live for you guys' blog,,, and ur comte love fuels me??? head empty except for those two pureblood clowns

HNGNGNG I hope that both you and everyone that reads my shenanigans knows how utterly understood I feel when I see anyone stan Comte, if not both of those idiot purebloods bc good lord...I live for two tired fossil men that just want DOMESTIC BLISS. Literally they have no brain cells beyond respect women and we love that for us, it’s spectacular!!

Under a cut bc I went off and is long:

That being said I’d be happy to yell abt Leo!! Where do I even begin, this man was the reason I got into Ikevamp in the first place, and I’ve read just about every single one of his events at this point. He just makes me so TENDER!!!!!! For whatever reason the first thing that came to mind was this one time he lies about being jealous and MC is lolol u a fool if you think I can’t tell when you lie to me. And he’s so fuckiNG SHOOK?????? It’s even funnier because she’s internally like [I’m not 100% sure but for a second there he almost looked mad...time to test this theory even if it’s just A GAME T H E O R Y] And he’s so fucking pikachu meme that shit sends me. I can’t handle the fact that he’s so used to people just assuming he’s fine, that he can handle himself. That he’s lived for so long without really anyone noticing at all. (Comte absolutely notices and will lightly roast him, but doesn’t really push him about it or wants to overstep). And so when MC just actively pays attention and is so gentle with him he’s just floored???

God I’m crying now, but I will just never forget the funeral scene in his fucking rt. This asshole, this absolute moron, straight up tries to come at us with “yOu GeT uSeD tO iT aFtEr HaLf A mIlLeNiUm, i’M nOt SaD”. Like are you serious. Come here and let me hold you before I throttle you. Absolute clown. He’s just always trying so hard to get by on his own and it breaks my heart. How long...how long has he lived just getting by, nursing his own wounds and dragging himself up all by himself. HE LEFT HOME AT LIKE 14 (whatever the fuCK SOME TOO YOUNG AGE) AND RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE HANDS OF PEOPLE THAT HATED HIM FOR HIS TALENT. HE REMEMBERS HIS MENTORS DESTROYING HIS UTENSILS WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PARENTS THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY REJECTED ANY EXPRESSION OF LOVE OR COMPASSION FOR HUMANITY THAT HE CHERISHED SO DEEPLY. I DON’T NEED SLEEP I NEED TO HUG HIM IMMEDIATELY FUCKING HELL.

Like.........there’s just........I don’t know how to explain it, but I once saw it explained so well in a post. It was basically talking about Castlevania, and how in that show Dracula sees humanity’s folly and develops so much hatred he just goes straight to murder rage. And while in some ways I understand that, I understand even more deeply Trevor’s response to humanity’s fear and violence. He says that he knows they’re short-sighted, that maybe we all just don’t deserve saving...but that he’s going to do it anyway. Leonardo just so much gives me that energy of knowing there’s so much pain in the world, but all we can do is keep walking--keep trying, even if we have to claw our way forward. Because if you only see the awfulness in front of you, you forget the way that strangers make silly faces at babies to make them laugh on the train, how a friend will put everything down to race over to someone and comfort them with some ice cream--do anything they can to distract them from the hurt. How the sight of a child crying will prompt careful cooing from a stranger as to their bravery, an offering of cool water, the gentle placement of a bandaid. How a pair of teenagers will spot a lost child in milliseconds and help them seek out their parents protectively. There is so much wretchedness, but also so much beauty in it all, and the older I get the more I see myself wanting to believe in the latter. I want to be hopeful, and easily impressed, and full of love. To be bitter and jaded accomplishes nothing, and only becomes a worsening self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you seek negativity, the more you will find it; and worse, create it.

I also scream a little bit bc like. I’ve gone on and on about how Comte is very obviously in love with MC all the time, and sure that may be true. But...I really don’t think Leo is exempt from that either if I’m honest lmfao. Only because what does Leonardo do when it isn’t his route? He almost never shows up. Once in a while he might appear for a split second in a scene, but he almost never converses with MC beyond those short moments. While Comte is the one to pine openly, I’d wager Leo is the opposite. He pines in absolute silence, because he knows that if he gets any closer--he’s going to fall. He’s going to enjoy it too much, going to keep seeking out more before he can stop himself. And losing another person he loves...he just can’t do it anymore. In his first meeting story he talks about seeing MC’s eyes and feeling like he’d known them all his life, and even in his MS he speaks to just being completely fascinated by and enamored of her. She doesn’t hesitate, always does her best, meets people head-on and without much hesitation. After a lifetime of people that are probably just immediately interested in him for his talents, or always seeking out his company for the novelty, this is someone that doesn’t give a single fuck if he’s Leonardo da Vinci. Sure she’s aware, and sure she’s impressed to some extent, but her respect--her attraction and admiration--is something that has to be earned. 

There’s something so refreshing about how their love was written. Sure it’s the whole fake marriage to a real relationship, but it’s also a kind of subtle enemies to lovers pulled off masterfully. MC is 100% minding her own business, just wants to do what she must in order to get home, tries to focus on her work to keep from thinking about how much she misses her old life. She doesn’t rely on anyone, doesn’t talk about how hard it is or how scary it is or how confusing. And even Leonardo forgets in his curiosity, is just chillin and also just trying to do the bare minimum to keep from getting too attached--figures he can admire her from a distance. And then he sees her staring at the hourglass. And suddenly, he can’t just watch her do that herself. Just wait for the hard times to pass, just sit with her own loneliness--that hollowing silence. There’s something so moving about it because he reaches out precisely because he knows that feeling to his fucking marrow, and literally just cannot watch somebody else do that to themselves. Sure he’s been dealing with it for three hundred years, BUT THIS GOOD BABIE CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE THIS. SHE WORKS HARD AND DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!!!! And so he drives her crazy as he races ahead of her, intercepting any attempt for her to preserve that silence and hide. She doesn’t see any pattern to it, and that’s just how he likes it--he doesn’t want her to worry about the how or why. 

Like I fully remembering playing in Japanese and being like oh my fucking god this is hilarious, this man is just a wild fucker and I love this. I was enjoying myself, mostly laughing and shaking my head. But then it just gets so, so serious. I was having so much fun that I, like a fool, forgot the anime effect. If you’re having fun, it’s going to come crashing down without mercy soon enough. And it does. He helps a little girl without any hope play her violin again, and maybe I’m just too English major but I was fucking FLOORED when I realized I didn’t see that that was straight foreshadowing. That little girl without hope? That was MC (and by extension depending on how you play, us). Though the metaphor isn’t quite so easily mapped without a physical space, the connection is clear when you think about it. With his careful social awareness, he makes a place for MC to exist in the mansion so naturally--as though she was meant to be there from the start, crafts a positive impression of her presence with each of the residents. And he does it with zero expectation of anything in return; he’s just happy to see her not stressing herself out anymore or trying to do everything alone. MC doesn’t fall in love with him despite their differences, she falls in love with him because they are the same in a singular and all-encompassing way that matters; they both care about other people so deeply, to the point where they will forego any personal needs in order to make that person’s life easier. Whether it be muting their own hardship, or working to involve another person in a new space (or opening up to the point of self-destruction to keep a person from feeling alone), they go above and beyond what anybody asks of them--perhaps strong to the point of their own detriment, in some cases. 

It’s why I always laugh when he says to Sebastian “That cara mia, she has a good heart.” Of course she does, Leonardo; it certainly takes one to know one. 

And because I literally have no brain cells beyond being in fucking love with Leonardo THE LAKE SCENE IS AN AFFRONT TO MY DIGNITY AND SELF-CONTROL. HOW DARE YOU, SIGNORE. HOW DARE YOU ASK ME TO SIT THERE AND WATCH YOU OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME AND NOT BAWL MY EYES OUT AND TRY TO KISS YOU ALL AT THE SAME TIME. SIGNORE “hAhA yOu’Re So SmAlL yOu LoOk LiKe YoU’rE DrOwNiNg In My CoAt.” I WOULD DROWN AND DIE HAPPY--BITCH I TELL YOU THAT.

Like. I can’t think of another route I’ve ever done where I spent a good amount of time like “lmfao this guy is so wild im gonna punch him” to just be in a whirlpool of my own tears, regretting my entire fucking LIFE days later. Like Leonardo’s cultural impact???? Fucking immeasurable, I wish every white man disaster I ever met had a hidden heart of gold in all of his boyish dumbassery, an ICONIC himbo of our time. 

Also because I remembered it before posting and I am Dying^TM. The event where MC was a pureblood and he was human. That entire fucking event. I literally can’t think about it without screaming and crying. Her just so flustered at his reaction to her like “oh look, free real estate” as he plops her in his lap, absolutely no fear, treating her like a princess because of her noble title despite NO NECESSITY BEYOND PLAYFULNESS BUT ALSO STILL MEANING IT IN AN EARNEST WAY, being charming to no END just to see her laugh or look away shyly. 

WHEN HE SAID. WHEN HE SAID “...Can’t leave you alone, or you might go off someplace I can’t follow.” I. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU STRIPPED DEVOTION DOWN TO ITS BARE ESSENTIALS!!!!!! GAH HOW MC HERSELF SAYS “I would tell him the truth but...he’s much too generous for a human. I know he would offer his life without a moment’s hesitation.” How Leo describes the aftermath of her biting him: “Lucky for you, I’m a true gentleman, Unlike my principessa, who took me like a storm” HELLO??????? H E L  L O ???????????????????????? ARE WE JUST GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FACT THAT HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SOUL WHEN SHE BIT HIM???? I--

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(Also as much as I love him the cigarillos have got to go at some point, boy do you have any idea the shit secondhand smoke does good lordt)

[lemonietrinket]

Trio ||| Minhyuk x Reader x Jooheon

Summary: Movie nights with your favourite bickering friends is always an event to behold. Everything is peaceful with your trio of giggles, and that’s the way it would stay. You were sure of it.  Genre: Fluff Warning(s): Oneshot that accidentally gained a plot that may now need a sequel but I’m busy so idk Word Count: 2831 Theme Song: Humph! - Pentagon AN: December 12 prompt, movie night. Credit as usual goes to @songi-writes I’m going to keep tagging I’m sorry I don’t want to be annoying but I feel like a thief otherwise I’m sorryyyy!! Do I call him Jooheon? Joohoney? I do not know ..... i love u bb joo i promise

~~~

The living room was filled to the brim with near-manic giggles that didn’t falter even as you entered the room. Confusedly tilting your body round the door frame, you caught a glimpse of the thick fluffy blanket on the sofa moving as if it had a life of its own.  The amalgamation of pastel blue fluff juddered as another roar of raucous laughter emanated from its depths, its sides flourishing and stretching at random while it snorted unceremoniously.

Quickly grabbing the snacks from the kitchen counter, you hurried into the fray, coming to a halt directly at the side of the beast.

Upon closer inspection, you could see the shapes rippling beneath the blanket reflected one person being held captive by the other, and, going by the sudden convulsions at one end, said captive was being tickled ferociously—leading him to kick wildly in response. 

You didn’t even need to listen in to work out who was the perpetrator here, though deciphering who started it would perhaps be a trickier endeavour. 

Dropping the snacks on the coffee table, you crouched down strategically, aiming to free the victim from his torture.  Tactfully, you leant in at an angle that allowed precision and accuracy, and low enough so to avoid any collateral.

And then, you struck.

Minhyuk took the jab below the ribs with glamorous dignity. And glamorous dignity meant shrieking like a fox.

The manoeuvre gave Jooheon a chance to escape, which he took gladly, knocking the blanket off his head and breathing a huge sigh of relief.

“It’s not over yet soldier!” you exclaimed, swooping in to protect him from recapture, catching Minhyuk’s arms as they swung round to grapple Jooheon back to his body. “Honey, get him!”

 “Oh!” Jooheon was startled, but immediately dug his fingers into his band mate’s sides. Cackling, Minhyuk tried to wriggle free, but found himself laughing too hard. 

“G-guys! Sto-! P... h—yah!” 

“We will never relent!” you declared, letting go of his wrists, deciding he was rendered practically immobile by that point, and joined in on the assault.

Bad move.

Instantly Minhyuk caught you instead, dragging you onto his chest and using his legs—albeit trapped in the end of the blankets—to push Jooheon down onto the two of you. 

Yelping at the sneak attack, you were immediately trapped in Minhyuk’s grip, leaving him free to do whatever he wished, which in this case was unleashing an merciless attack upon your stomach. You were left barely able to breathe between laughter, your body shifting wildly with every jolt of giddiness, while Jooheon was left to collapse on your back, cheek squished against your shoulder as he scolded the perpetrator weakly.

Minhyuk laughed victoriously, his master plan of a cuddle pile coming together neatly, even though he couldn’t really breathe either. 

Suddenly though, there was a high-toned thud that made you all freeze.

“What was that?” Jooheon asked groggily.

You grimaced. “The remote, I think.”

The two turned simultaneously to glare disapprovingly at Minhyuk as you groaned, it no doubt being a consequence of his kicking legs.

“Hey!” he whined, “I didn’t know it was there! Also you were tickling—! You can’t blame me entirely!

Clambering off the sofa, you left him to pick up the blanket as you joined Jooheon in searching for the lost remote.

He had his head hanging down the gap between the sofa, end-table and armchair, attempting to spot the black remote in the shadow there. You rolled your eyes at the slight lack of common sense, leaning over to turn on the lamp on the table. 

The click and sudden ability to see made him jump slightly, but he swung himself a little further down nonetheless. “I can’t see it here!” he called.

You huffed, scowling exaggeratedly at Minhyuk who reciprocated with an even more hyperbolic pout, before laying your hand on Jooheon’s back, indicating for him to stand up.

You felt his body stiffen slightly at your touch, head reappearing to make eye contact with you, bemused. 

“I hope it’s not under the chairs,” you remarked, crouching down onto the carpet, “otherwise Minnie’s in big trouble!”

You heard Jooheon laugh at him and say a teasing comment that you couldn’t quite make out as you pressed your head onto the floor, your phone flashlight on.  Your shoulders slumped as you spotted the remote nearly in the very centre of the space below the armchair.

“Found it,” you sighed, obviously disgruntled, “it’s under there but it’s too far for me to reach and,” you got to your feet, brushing your hands on your shirt, “like hell I’m sticking my hand under there.”

“Why not?” Minhyuk asked, tugging Jooheon’s ear until you pursed your lips at him, to which he smiled, wide and bright, and let him go. “You... scared?”

You protested his accusation. “Uh?! Hyuk? Are you not scared of the under-space? That’s the place where demons live, I’ll have you know.”  

He scoffed, passing Jooheon and patting you on the head. “Well, I’m not scared, I’ll get the remote.”

“Yeah, and because it’s your fault it went missing in the first place, remember! You are totally doing the washing up today.” You chuckled at the huff you heard from the floor.

The other man just laughed. “There’s no such thing as demons, Y/N.”

You looked him dead in the eye, slightly taken aback by how beautiful his eyes were. Fashioned of a gemstone in normal situations, in the lamplight they had become the glittered pools of two galaxies. “Can you be sure?.”

As you perched on the edge of the sofa, you could barely stop the giggle from arising from your throat as you heard Jooheon check with Minhyuk that demons didn’t exist, the laughter gradually dying in his voice. 

And especially when the man on the floor just brightly replied, “If thinking that helps you sleep at night, sure!” 

Jooheon looked back to you, a highly unnerved expression upon his features.  He looked so adorable when he was ever so slightly petrified.

“Oh, Honey, it’s ok they don’t exist, I promise,” you cooed, motioning for him to come and join you on the sofa. He obliged, soft lips set in a trembling pout, taking the space to your left and curling into your chest as soon as you opened your arms for a cuddle. You couldn’t resist squishing his cheek gently, reassuringly holding him close.

“And even if there was, Honey, we’d never let them hurt you,” Minhyuk added, before jumping up victoriously, remote in hand, “I got it!”

You nodded, playfully smushing both of Jooheon’s cheeks so his lips were pursed. “Besides, most demons are nice anyways. They just get a bad rep.”

Minhyuk sent you a quizzical look, but you pointed to the TV, silently asking him to load up the film. “We’ve procrastinated long enough, I think.”

He put his hands on his hips. “The things you make me do, Y/N.”

You pulled an indignant face at him, which he mimicked right back, before turning to the set, opening the box and placing the disk in the tray.

Once it was done, he returned to the sofa, retrieving the blanket and arranged it so it covered you and Jooheon nicely, and then finally climbing under himself.

“Thank you~!” you sang, watching him shuffle and get comfortable, before inclining towards, but not quite against, your free shoulder. You wondered how long it would take for him to give in and sprawl across you, basically making you into a pillow for two tired dorks. 

Not that you minded. They were so warm, and you like being crushed with affection, genuinely. The true remedy for touch-starvation. Besides, it was your choice of film, and though you were interested in it, it wasn’t one that the other two were that fussed about, so you’d foreseen this.

Taking the remote from Minhyuk as he shifted, you held it to Jooheon, for him to press the buttons. After all, though arguments over who got to use the remote was something you had not foreseen the first time, you weren’t about to let that happen again any time soon.

The film menu screen faded into black, and you felt Minhyuk’s arm snake around your waist.

50 minutes, you thought, 50 minutes will be how long it takes before they’re out like lights.

.

.

The film was as enriching as you expected, and you couldn’t help but mentally gush about just how on point the metaphors were, or how the colour schemes helped foreshadow the unfurling events—you realised as you went. And usually it took a lot to distract you from all movies. However, the two things that could distract you the most were situated on either side of you, and they were doing a brilliant job of it by somehow putting in as little effort as possible.

It hadn’t taken long at all for Minhyuk to give into resting his head on your shoulder. He’d started off by nuzzling his nose into your neck, deliberately trying to distract you so you would hold his hand. When you did as he wished, he decided he was happy with his head upon your shoulder, and so there he remained. Eventually, he untwined his fingers from yours in favour of holding you in his arms fully, and so you resorted to threading your fingers through his hair, very carefully easing out any knots you stumbled across. 

That had been what sent him to sleep, you reasoned, with his arms clutching you like a teddy bear. Very occasionally he hummed in his sleep, tiny whines or murmurings of something barely understandable. One time you thought he’d uttered the word ‘love’ but it was hard to tell, with his mumbling coinciding with a swell in the music of the film.

It remained though that you’d no doubt overestimated his willpower by a good 40 minutes. He hadn’t opened a single packet of snacks, nor asked what was going on. It amused you how quick they were to lull into the arms of sleep when warm and coddled. It made you feel good, that they felt secure in your arms enough to drift off whenever.

Meanwhile, it was Jooheon that had proved to be much stronger, willing his heavy eyelids not to droop too low and lull him into a sleep. He was sullenly watching the film, somewhat transfixed by its motions and colours, rather than the messages and dialogue, but he’d stayed awake for a while, even if he hadn’t gotten anywhere near the 50 minute mark.

“Hey Honey, you doing ok?” you whispered, smoothing his shirt sleeve beneath he blanket. 

He nodded once, lacking the energy or the desire to do anymore than that. He was perfectly comfortable where he was, not wanting to move a millimetre if it meant causing even the slightest bit of discomfort. 

“You want any snacks?” you enquired, receiving the tiniest shake of his head. It wasn’t like you could reach them anyway.

You rubbed his back, feeling him press closer into you, if that were even possible. “It’s ok, Honey, you can go to sleep. Heaven knows you need it after the week you’ve had.”

It was if you’d whispered the final command of a hypnotist, as right after the words left your lips, he let his eyes close, nestling his hands to grip your shirt rather than the blanket loosely, and gave into sleep. 

You felt your heart lurch as you felt Jooheon’s breath steady. Glancing across carefully at Minhyuk and admiring how the light of the TV arched across the bridge of his nose, you found no respite as your breath hitched in your throat.

You’d never questioned what you had. You were eternally grateful to have it. You had two people who cared for you so deeply that they immediately travelled to your door from the other side of the city, when all you did was mention that you were a little gloomy that evening. You of course would have done the exact same. But what was it all?

You didn’t let the voices owned by all those unsettled and interrogatory faces into your thoughts that often, because what use was it? But even your obstinate tendencies couldn’t deny that they all did see something, that they all then latched onto like limpets. Constantly asking if one of them was your boyfriend. Acting overtly surprised when you shook your head vividly and asserted ‘no’.  Questioning if you were leading both of them on. And then never letting the idea drop no matter how many times you saw them, no matter how many times you requested them to. 

It was none of their damn business, you were close as friends, a peaceful trio uncomplicated by labels. Friends could be close and touchy and clingy if they wanted to, and you told them that, square to their faces. Only to find them laugh at you strangely. 

That laugh, you’d witnessed in other scenarios, was the one that people always used when they knew something the others didn’t. The laugh people heard when they asked about their favourite character to an older fan, which never indicated their safety. The laugh people uttered under their breath when the movie was paused and they knew something bad was going to happen to one of the characters.

Dramatic irony. 

But you weren’t in love with them, either of them, neither Minhyuk nor Jooheon. No. Well, at least not in that way. At least, you thought.

A particularly loud mumble brought you out of your thoughts, as Minhyuk shifted his weight on your shoulder. 

“Min?” No response. 

You exhaled in a quiet chuckle. From his new position, you could see even less of his face, his lips instead pressed against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His grip was tight at your side, as if he was afraid you’d leave.

You moved your hand from his hair, and placed it at his waist, caressing the sliver of bare skin you found uncovered there absentmindedly. 

Your thoughts swirled, urging you to pull him closer—both of them closer. Even though they were both practically on top of you, you wanted them closer.

What did that even mean...?

You shook your head, taking a glimpse down at Jooheon, fast asleep. A mistake, as you suddenly felt that rise in your soul again. It wasn’t a new feeling, but you’d never felt it this strong before. You’d always written it off as a protective, almost nurturing feeling.

You forced your eyes to focus upon the film again, but you’d lost track of what was going on. The colours blurred and merely danced in front of you.

You wanted to...

No. That was completely, utterly, wholeheartedly a bad idea.

No matter how inviting the idea was, no matter how close they were.

You were just sappy because it was dark out and you were tired and because they’d been so sweet and funny and endearing. 

But it was too late.

With your conscious miles behind, your body seemed to behave by itself.  It was as if you watched yourself in third person. You supported Minhyuk’s head with a hand, as you leant down and placed a kiss onto Jooheon’s hair. Returning, you did the same for Minhyuk, brushing some loose strands back into place. 

You sat up straight again, eyes naturally returning to the screen, and for a solid five seconds there was utter tranquil. No disturbance of a thought, no incessance of a noise.

And then your consciousness slammed back into your head as you realised what you’d done.  What had you just done?

.

.

Panicking, with your chest heaving, you sought an escape route. 

As smoothly as you could, you slipped out between the two of them. Making sure their heads were supported and their bodies covered with the blanket, you praised all the gods evidently watching over you at that moment that they didn’t wake up. Then, you snuck out of the room, into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Sitting on the cool floor, focusing on your breath that was ringing in your ears, you interrogated yourself.

What did you do? Why did you do it? What were you going to do about it?

What you did not know was that they didn’t have a clue either.

When they decided to pretend to be asleep, they had expected to pull a ghost prank on you seamlessly. It would end in you screaming, chasing them around the place, and finally more cuddles when the film was over. They’d checked the bed earlier that day, it was certainly big enough for all three, despite what you’d said!

But now they were stuck, eyes flickering over each other’s faces, on opposite sides of the sofa.

“She kissed you?” Jooheon whispered first.

“Yes!” Minhyuk replied. “You too?” 

“On the head, yes!”

“Same!”

Maybe things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated for the three of you. 

~~~

AN: I’m sorry this fic was late, a lot of things got in my way yesterday. I’m really sorry it turned into a character piece too lol. Y/N has many feelings apparently sksksk

This was also not how I imagined this would turn out. I’m always adding plots to my oneshots pls save meeeee

I will fix up the masterlist soon, I promise. 

College is a pain in the ass and coursework is murdering my soul so yeet me.

I’ll write the next part at.... some point.... 

Feedback is always welcome too like, I’m going to try and edit all of these after christmas so if you think something is too long then lmk 

I’ll stop ANing now.  Thank you for reading! 

Masterlist

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.

Edited: 18th May 2020

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble “Escape” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt has another request for Blaine ... one that may change the scope of their whole relationship thus far. (1758 words)

Notes: Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts gradual/star, and home/gift. There are others in there, too. Part 3 of the fic “Doula”.

Read on AO3.

“G-go on vacation with me?”

“Hmm?” Blaine isn’t certain he heard Kurt speak. He’d been concentrating so hard on massaging Kurt’s legs - gradually inching his way from his left calf to his thigh, focusing on where his hands touched, with what amount of pressure … reflecting on how that skin felt against his lips minutes ago … that the words didn’t quite make sense.

“Go on vacation with me,” Kurt repeats. “Oh … unless your schedule is packed or something. I don’t know how busy you are, being a doula.”

“Being a doula doesn’t really take up too much of my time. It’s more of a side gig than a career,” Blaine explains, grabbing his bottle of massage lotion so he can start on Kurt’s right leg. “I’m still kind of finding myself. Luckily, I’m one of those fortunate few who doesn’t have to work, so it gives me plenty of time to explore.”

“Why is that?” Kurt asks, and bites his tongue immediately after. Shoot! He’d been so relaxed, he only asked to make small talk. He didn’t intend on being so thoughtless.

“I haven’t blown through my inheritance yet. Luck-y me.”

“Oh, Blaine …” Kurt looks back over his shoulder at Blaine, rubbing oil on his hands and returning to his massage. He remembers when Blaine’s parents died. They’d passed within a month of one another – his mom going first, then his dad when he realized he couldn’t live without her. On the one month anniversary of his wife’s death, he simply died in his sleep.

An undiagnosed cardiomyopathy.

In layman’s terms, a broken heart.

Kurt had received word when he was on tour in Europe. He tried to get away, but he couldn’t fly back to be there for Blaine. So he sent a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers to the funeral instead. It hadn’t dawned on Kurt to feel too guilty at the time since Blaine was engaged.

When Kurt’s father died the following year, Blaine was single again.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I …”

“Kurt, considering your life right now, I’m not going to blame you if you don’t remember every little detail of mine.”

Kurt wants to object. He wants Blaine to know that he does remember, because Blaine’s life is important to him. Regardless of how he’s acted over the past decade, it’s always been important.

“I became a death doula because of them,” Blaine continues. “Because of what I went through after they died. There was so much I didn’t know about losing someone close to me until my mother passed away. My father wanted to take care of my mother himself, but everyone he talked to told him he couldn’t. But it wasn’t true. Watching how the funeral home handled it, how they talked to my father, what they tried to sell him on …” Kurt feels Blaine sigh, feels it seep into his skin. “It was disheartening, knowing that there are people in the world out to make a buck any way they can, and that funeral homes are no different. Having someone he loved more than life pass away, coming to them at his most vulnerable, those things didn’t protect my dad. So, I took over. Did some research, and had everything handled at home the way my dad wanted. The only thing we paid for was a burial plot in a green cemetery. I refused to turn my mother over to a stranger who was going to charge me thousands of dollars for a giant, non-biodegradable box we were going to stick into the ground. My parents didn’t want that.”

“That must have been so difficult,” Kurt says, remembering how he handled his father’s funeral.

He didn’t.

He wrote someone else a blank check and they did everything for him. No stress, no mess, and Kurt was grateful. It gave him the time he needed to focus on simply grieving the loss of his father. He didn’t feel particularly swindled or pressured by the funeral home he hired. Then again, the directors of the funeral homes in Lima had all been friends of his father. They could have bent over backwards for Kurt because he was Burt Hummel’s son.

But if that hadn’t been the case, if Kurt wasn’t wealthy or famous, would the experience have been the same?

“Dealing with the funeral industry was such an eye-opening experience. I knew there had to be other people who felt the same way I did, and I wanted to help spread awareness. But I didn’t want to become a mortician or anything like that. That’s when I decided that the best thing I could do would be to become a death doula. I took a course and now here I am. But I offer it as a service, only ask for what I need to cover expenses. Outside of my song writing, it gives my life purpose.”

“That makes sense,” Kurt says with a small smile. “It suits you.”

“Does it?” Blaine scrunches his nose. He thought it did. His brother and many of his friends seem to think it’s morbid. Cool, but morbid. He’s happy that Kurt approves, that it’s not a turn off for him. But it sounds strange to hear Kurt say it.

“A-ha. You’ve always been compassionate and nurturing. I often thought that if you didn’t become a musician, you might end up being a teacher.”

“Yeah, well, the only school I ever taught at burned down, so right away, that’s not a good sign.”

Kurt stifles a chuckle. He’d forgotten all about that. Back when it happened, it seemed like the end of the world – Dalton Academy, the place where he and Blaine first met, dying by fire. Years later, he’d mark it as a metaphor for their relationship. A foreshadowing even. But now, it’s simply a moment. One that they’d shared. A part of their history together.

And it felt good to remember it.

It would be nice to make a few new moments with Blaine.

“You know, Blaine, one good thing about being a star is that I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime. Especially my lifetime. And if I’m going to go, then I intend on using as much of it as I can to make sure that every minute is as memorable as possible. But it would be nice to have someone to share it with. And I know that we haven’t been an ‘us’ in a long time. We … we don’t even have to be an ‘us’. We can just be two good friends, traveling around the world together.”

Blaine slides forward, curling up beside Kurt. “I … I don’t know. That sounds … I don’t know how I would ever pay you back.”

Kurt smirks. “Blaine, that is the weirdest thing you could have said to me.”

“I … I know. I just … I don’t know what to say.”

“Blaine …” Kurt reaches up and runs slightly trembling fingers through his hair “… do you know how many friends I have?”

Images of Kurt with his entourage flash through Blaine’s head – the handsome men he’s been connected with over the years, even if those rumors have never been confirmed. At least they got to exist in the same space as Kurt while Blaine watched from his sofa. So many times he wished he could be one of them, not necessarily as a love interest.

He just missed Kurt so damned much.

“If I had to venture a guess, I’d say a lot.”

“A year ago, you’d be right. But the second everyone found out I had cancer, they all disappeared. And not one by one. En masse. People don’t know how to handle cancer. They want to hide from it, like they’re going to catch it. They don’t know what to say to you when you have it so they bury you early and move on with their lives. I don’t hold grudges against any of them. I really don’t. I remember what it was like when my mom had cancer, what she went through. Watching her go through that was excruciating. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. So if it’s better for them to distance themselves from me, then it’s better for me, too. I don’t want anyone resenting me. But I’m not at a point in my life where I want to make new friends … and I don’t think I can handle being alone.”

Blaine nods. It’s a thoughtful nod, but he remains quiet, and Kurt’s heart sinks into his roiling stomach. He doesn’t know what he thought Blaine would say after that. He had hoped he’d say yes, but that’s a lot for Kurt to expect. Maybe this is too much. After all, what does Kurt really have to offer? If his oncologist is right, he has 5 years maybe.

5 years isn’t a future. It’s a sick and twisted joke.

“I know I’m asking a lot. I know I keep saying that, and then I ask for more. I know that this would mean the world to me, but that you’re going to have to bear the burden of our memories when I’m gone. I’m sorry. I really am. The last thing I want is to hurt you. But our relationship, even with its flaws and imperfections, was the best of my entire life. In high school, you being with me was such a gift. It changed everything for me! My entire life! I’ve spent so much of the past ten years wondering how things would have been different if you and I stayed together. And I’m being selfish, asking you to play that out with me. I know what you must be thinking …”

“No,” Blaine says, “I don’t think you do.”

“I do!” Kurt insists, tears filling his eyes. “Because I know what I’d be thinking! Who the hell does he think he is? and Does he think he can get whatever he wants because he’s dying? and This was supposed to be one favor! I wasn’t looking to get back together with the jerk who ditched me for Broadw---“

Blaine quiets Kurt with a kiss. It’s not deep, not demanding, but it’s enough to get Kurt’s attention. Kurt sniffles as he kisses Blaine back, sure that this is Blaine’s way of saying goodbye.

“I was just thinking,” Blaine says, putting a hand on Kurt’s cheek, tracing the trail of his tears with his thumb, “when did you want to start?”

[holidaysat221b]

Part One of the List of Sherlolly Prompts as of 5/8/2018

Here is a link to the very informal Sherlolly Prompt FAQ

Below is the list of prompts submitted to @holidaysat221b. Where possible, we have tagged the submitter so that credit can be given if a prompt inspires someone to write a fic or create a piece of art.

Some submissions were specifically labeled as Art prompts, and they have been separated into their own category. However, if you are a fic writer and one of the art prompts calls to you, go for it. Likewise, if one of the other prompts makes you want to draw, have fun with it! Prompts that have been filled at least once will be noted with a link to the fic/art, in case that influences your decision to work with one.

We only ask three things:

1) If you use one of the prompts on this list, please remember to credit the prompt and prompter somewhere in your fic summary/art description or in your notes.

2) Please submit an ask or message @holidaysat221b with a link to your work, the prompt you used, the prompter, and how you want to be identified (in cases where your Tumblr and fic/artist name are different). This will allow us to share your work with our followers and tag the prompter (if possible).

3) We have set up a Sherlolly Prompt Collection on Ao3. If you are planning to post your fic or art on Ao3 and would like to add it to the collection, please do. As of this moment, the collection is open and unmoderated. Please remember to credit the prompt and prompter in your fic/art notes.

On to the Prompts as of May 8, 2018

Art

Art prompt:  (I’ve wanted this like burning for five years, I’ll never give up asking)  Sherlock and Molly, the cake scene from Sixteen Candles".   Only in the morgue and Molly’s wearing the lab coat.  -   @sunken-standard  (Prompt fill - Sherlolly // Sixteen Candles by @simplyshelbs16xoxo)

Art prompt:  Potter!lock.  Don’t care if it’s student Sherlock and Molly in their house robes, teachers, wizarding professionals, a recreation of the Order of the Phoenix group photo with Sherlock characters instead. Whatever.  Just as long as it’s Potter!lock.  -  @darnedchild

Art prompt:  Molly and Sherlock’s first real date gets interrupted by a case. Are they dressed up for a fancy evening, or wearing something more suited to fish and chips and a walk around the park?  -  Anonymous

AU/Works that do not/will not fit in with the series current on-screen canon

Sherlock: A TV series featuring a hot guy with awesome deductive skills, his best friend the doctor, the exasperated detective inspector, the sweet landlady, and the pathologist. And no, the pathologist isn’t in love with the hot guy.  -  The Silent Fangirl

A post TRF fic, where Sherlock takes Molly with him, but they return to London a couple years later than in canon because Molly got pregnant along the way (or even twice), so now they are three/four of them instead of two? -  @mychakk

“We had chips. She liked me.” – Sherlock in TLD. What could have been had he and Molly gotten chips in TEH: A kick to Tom’s butt. Happy greeting (a hug at least!) at the end of TEH. Quite a lot of sex with Sherlock instead of Tom. Molly the best man’s date. A (sophisticated. Or not) Molly/Janine cat fight for Janine hitting on SH moments. Dancing, so much Sherlolly dancing (and no leaving early). Probably no Shezza (Shezzer?)—which, hmm, is a shame (But maybe they’ve their own not-being-on-a-sex-holiday-but-sexing-a-lot time). A real proposal to Molly. Molly at family Christmas, maybe even a Christmas wedding. Solving CAM without the threat of exile sharpens Sherlock’s deductive abilities. No Norbury as Molly’s already expecting their first offspring, so Sherlock doesn’t taunt needlessly. Mary as the Sherlolly baby godmother as she’s alive! Culverton Smith is taken down by the duo of Mary and Molly while the latter gives birth there (because the ladies are awesome, plus Mrs H tackles him down). John is so impressed he doesn’t look at any other women. Molly’s big heart brings Eurus from her metaphoric plane the moment she steps into 221B, plus baby Holmes wins her heart too. The Holmes family reconciliation and Eurus is in therapy instead of being a multi-killer. Baker Street Boys Team continues while Baker Street Girls Team gives them a run for their money. Mycroft asks Lady Smallwood out himself to her astonishment and internal squealing. Mummy Holmes gets more grandkids than she could’ve imagined. And basically, everyone walks happily into the sunset. The End. Please note, some things can obviously be modified.  -  @mychakk  (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

AU: Molly runs away from home when her parents try to arrange a marriage for her. She wants to pursue a life that involves science and marry for love if she ever gets married at all. She meets Sherlock, who is being pressured by his family to marry a nice girl they found for him who loves science as much as he does. It will be interesting when they figure it out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard  (Prompt fill - Uncertain Terms by geekmama)

AU. Instead of dying, Mary actually does hide from Sherlock and John effectively and they don’t find her. Still wracked by guilt and worried he’ll never see her again, John still imagines her in his mind and Sherlock still goes after Culverton Smith … possibly both to save John and because maybe Smith knows something about where Mary went? To solve the mystery and bring Mary home, Sherlock and Molly team up.  -  @rooneykmara

Uni!lock Sally wakes Molly at 2 am because her junkie boyfriend of dorm 221b is streaking across campus calling her name, so she better stop denying that she’s his girlfriend.  -  @escaily

To cover her butt during New Year’s Eurus lies and tells mummy that Sherlock has a wife, and Mycroft borrows her ‘Sherlock’s wife’ excuse whenever he wants to avoid sticky topics during holidays. The lie gets bigger the more Sherlock avoids family meetings. Until December when Sherlock finds out he’s married to a forensic (E), sex addicted(E), petite (E), intelligent (M), very forgiving (M) paragon of virtue (M). Now he needs to find a stranger that fits the description before Christmas.  -  @escaily

Rock Royalty AU. That AU in which Mary drags Molly into an edgy rock concert of her favorite band “Baker Street Boys” even though everybody and their mother knows that indie acoustics and hippie music is Molly’s thing. Enter Sherlock Holmes lead band member, (the type of Rock Star that sings ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ while high as a kite) famous for his electric violin solos, addict past and cold attitude. He tries deducing the girl less likely to throw herself at him out of all the fans and finding that one concert goer who doesn’t get turned on by his music. Turns out that Molly the ‘I-said-I’m-not-a-groupie’ pathologist in training is actually an interesting girl when she’s not covering her ears, even if Sherlock needs to educate her on the finger points of violin appreciation. Basically a fic where the Rockstar wants to turn this hater into a fan but actually ends up falling for her instead.  -   @escaily

The Do Over/ Time Travel Sherlolly fic that I NEED. Let’s pretend that a destroyed Molly went to sleep the night of the infamous phone call wishing she could do it all over again, and overnight she wakes up back in Season 1 first ep. If you could get a do over, erase all the bad things that have ever happened with the person you’ve always loved, even if it meant never having the good, would you do it? Especially if said person just broke your trust over the phone. The moment with the riding crop, all the late nights at the morgue, chose to avoid that awful Christmas party (showed up with a boring date), change shifts the day ‘Jim from IT’ asked her out and not offer her help when Sherlock needed to fake his death. Of course, fate still keeps throwing her together with Sherlock no matter what she tries. “You’re not MY Sherlock, you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered at last. “And what did your version of me have that I don’t?” “Many things, I know you think you can’t be a better person, but my Sherlock was.” Or something around those lines where slightly-younger Sherlock feels jealous of TFP Sherlock, because in any version of history Sherlock will always end up falling in love with Molly and she’s already so attuned to his quirks that he resents the ‘other him’ for having so much time with her.  -  @escaily

Crossovers/Works set in or inspired by another specific fictional universe (ie Potter!lock)

I’d really like to see a Daemon (from the His Dark Materials books by Philip Pullman) version of Series 3/TAB/Series 4 (any or all of those), especially when it comes to the ILY scene.  -  Kay

iZombie!Sherlock – Think of this, if Sherlock gets infected we have: 1) Sherlock with white hair 2) Sherlock getting brains from Molly “for experiments” 3) Sherlock getting different attitudes (hippie brain = hippie!Sherlock) 4) Paler than normal pale Sherlock 5) Sherlock with red bloodshot eyes.   Also:  If Molly Hooper gets infected, it’s like she’s the Liv Moore of Barts.  Lestrade as Clive (and relieved to be not only depending on Sherlock to solve crimes).  Sherlock deduces Molly’s hair color and tan (because Molly can’t show up to work with white hair, even whiter skin color, and very slow pulse rate).  Major asshole Boss being the one shipping tainted Utopium to Britain.  -  The Silent Fangirl

Superwholock!Sherlolly  -  The Silent Fangirl

Doctor Who!Sherlock - Molly Hooper as a companion  -  The Silent Fangirl

Me Before You!Sherlock  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly Hooper as “Mary Reilly”.  -  @darnedchild

Dracula!lock, but maybe mix it up just a little.  Sherlock as the object of Dracula’s affections (Mina) and/or Molly as the vampire expert (Van Helsing)?  - @darnedchild

Sherlock and Lady Molly of Scotland Yard.  Molly Hooper as Lady Molly from “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” with her crime solving partner Mary (Morstan).  (Note from Mod -   “Lady Molly of Scotland Yard” used to be available via BBC Radio 4 Extra on demand, you may still be able to find it online somewhere.)  -  @lullikiish

A Hades and Persephone AU with Molly as female Hades (the unrequited love at first, the proximity with death) and Sherlock as a male Persephone (the curiosity, the lack of eating).  Irene would be a great Poseidon (the chaos provided by the ocean, the sailor knots).  As for John, he would be a great Hermes!  -  Kay

Gimme “The Full Monty”, baby. Surely someone can find a reason to have Sherlock, John, and Greg get their kits off? Or Molly, Mary, and Sally? Mrs H could give professional pointers and tips to whomever you’re planning to get starkers.  -  Anonymous

A Sherlolly version of “It’s A Wonderful Life”. Sherlock gets to see what his loved ones’ lives would be like if he never existed, realizing the positive impact he had on them when he was alive.  -  @simplyshelbs16xoxo  (Prompt fill - Strange, Isn’t It? by SimplyShelbs16)

Something similar to “The Ransom of Red Chief”, only in this version the kidnappers have figured out that Molly Hooper is a pressure point for Sherlock Holmes. They take her captive, intending to blackmail Sherlock or hold Molly for ransom; but Molly Hooper is having none of that nonsense. While Sherlock works to save her, Molly finds ways to torment, injure, and outwit her captors. Whether she escapes on her own, finds a way to let Sherlock and John know where she’s at, or ends up driving her kidnappers crazy to the point that they give up and send her back is up to the author. Could go humorous or dark very easily.  -  Anonymous

Clique/Sherlock Crossover - After the events of TFP, Molly Hooper (who is actually Jude McDermid) decides to go back to Edinburgh, broken-hearted & bound to continue the “family business” after years of running away from it. Gone is her long hair & colorful jumpers: she completely changed her look & have every information about Molly Hooper destroyed. Years passed, she forms the Solasta Women’s Initiative, much to her brother’s delight, until a horrific event brings Sherlock Holmes back into her world again. It’s more of a Sherlolly/Judelock mash-up where Sherlock wants to know why she left, who she really is, & how he’s still madly in love with her. Molly/Jude is more like she’s finally embracing the life she thought she never wanted, until she realizes that she can never forget the love she has for Sherlock. Can she be Jude & love him as well? Can Sherlock accept her true reality, or does he only love her as Molly & not Jude. Throw in a nice mystery/thriller plot too! Oh yeah Mycroft, who knew Molly is Jude from the beginning but decided to let Sherlock figure it out on his own, is determined to stop this union at all cost. Pls include all the girls & guys in Clique, especially Holly since she’s a badass off to take down Jude and her “girls” no matter what! It’s a crazy plot but if you’ve seen the 1st 2 episodes of Clique, it screams for a Sherlolly crossover fic! Thanks for reading this uber-long fic prompt!  -  @violetjersey

A reversed Potter!lolly with Sherlock being the Muggle-born, while Molly’s the pureblood witch (the likes of Luna Lovegood). Sherlolly, of course.  -  @mychakk

Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” – because I always think of the movies when I see Mizjoely’s U.N. Owen tag.  -  @darnedchild

We know Molly can keep other people’s secrets. Maybe Molly has a few secrets of her own, i.e. her very secret collection of FWBs. Because honestly, you think she would just sit alone in her home every night, year after year, quietly pining for a romantic relationship with Sherlock? And what a surprise when Sherlock and their friends find out…maybe at Sherlock and Molly’s wedding? Crossover possibilities depend on FWBs selected…Q (James Bond), Loki (Avengers), Doctor Strange, etc.  -  @rubyred7531

Crack!fic based on an episode of “Friends”. Sherlock marries Janine. (Maybe for a case, or because Molly is still engaged to Tom.) Unfortunately, he says Molly’s name during his wedding vows …  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

“Two Mules for Sister Sara”, but with undercover Father Sherlock (or Brother Sherlock if you want to go that way). You could go with the original western cowboy period or make it modern. You can keep it PG -or- you could go for that priest kink M/E rating.  -  @darnedchild

Reverse “Runaway Bride” AU, where Sherlock is getting married to Janine and Molly to Tom at some venue with space for lots of simultaneous events. Then they both get dumped in the altar. And it’s a meet cute of two people commiserating about how annoying it is to be the jilted ‘acceptable’ fiance in a rom com.  -  @escaily

Period pieces/TAB

Victorian “Hooper”lock—Molly in disguise as “Hooper” the man, and they work together on a case and sparks fly. They flirt and all, and Sherlock can’t figure out right away that she’s a woman, and I think it might not even bother him that much.  -  @lullikiish

TABverse – After the whole bride thing Molly Hooper asks Sherlock to help her create a new Alias for herself, something ‘detective proof’. The thing is that Sherlock doesn’t approve of the nurse Alias, or shopkeeper, or the governess one, or the maid costume (brothel girl disguise almost kills him). For Sherlock her new persona will just have to be the wife of someone with status, someone like him.  -  @escaily

Song fic/Inspired by lyrics

Song Fic:  Adele’s “Water Under the Bridge”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - Water Under The Bridge by SimplyShelbs16)

Song Fic:  … I would love something based on “Samson” by Regina Spektor please.  -  @chelle812

Song Fic:  Katy Perry’s “Unconditionally”  -  @darnedchild

Song Fic:  Texas’ “I’ll See It Through”  -  @darnedchild  (Prompt fill - And I’ll See It Through by darnedchild)

Song Fic:  … I’ve got a quote from a song.  “You only know you love her when you let her go.”  (Note from Mod - The song appears to be Passenger’s “Let Her Go”)  -  @flowerstar5  (Prompt fill - Turn Right by sunken_standard)

Song Fic: Angst.  Based on the ABBA song “Knowing Me, Knowing You”.   Sherlock and Molly have tried to have a serious relationship, but it just didn’t work out.  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

Song Fic: 8 Seconds “Kiss You”  -  @shadowyqueenbeard

OT3/Sherlock, Molly, and ?

A case involving wine and stolen spatulas leads to Mycroft Holmes being attracted to Molly Hooper. Too bad Molly’s had enough of the Holmeses, and Sherlock mooning over her really isn’t helping. (Molly Hooper/Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes)  -  The Silent Fangirl

Molly wants to meet The Woman. Irene and Sherlock are still friends, and Molly is curious. Much to everyone’s surprise, Molly and Irene hit it off fairly quickly. (Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper/Irene Adler)  -   Anonymous

When Sherlock is injured and stuck in a cast up to his thigh, Mary and Molly find out JUST how grumpy he can get. They end up putting him by a window with binoculars, his pain medication, snacks, juice and his mobile. What happens next?  (Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes/Mary (Morstan)Watson)  -  @penaltywaltz

[flowerpotphil]

Don't Wait For Me

Summary: Phil's in hospital, he's been there for countless days to no avail. Dan hasn't left his side since the day he got there, but when a doctor speaks to Phil when Dan is out, it comes to a point where Dan needs to learn how to live again.

All it was was a sharp pain that had come during the night. Phil just thought he'd perhaps had too much lactose, or he'd got an upset stomach, but it was much more painful that he'd experienced. The next morning he'd woken Dan up by sending a pan clattering to the floor, his body falling with it as he began to violently convulse. There isn't a metaphor for Dan's feelings at that time, there was no dramatic sobbing on the floor, all he did was stare. His boyfriend was on the floor and he had gone into shock, he'd got no clue what was going on or if Phil was okay. He couldn't even get his hand to his pocket to dial 999 and get help until Phil was beginning to settle slightly. The phone call was probably the most scared Dan has ever been, he'd pushed past his anxiety and told the woman on the end of the phone what had happened, confirming his address while he checked to see if Phil was still breathing. Of course, there was the generic 'stay calm, everything will be okay', but Dan had a terrible feeling brewing inside of him. Phil didn't seem okay, if he was just sick then he'd just go to bed and sleep it off with tea and a video game. 

It was agonising to wait for an ambulance to come, Dan could physically feel seconds ticking by and taunting him. Something really wasn't ringing right with him, there was something going on that neither he or Phil knew about and it was heartbreaking. 

The paramedics barged in at the faint call Dan offered, he didn't even register them until one gently pressed his arm to break him from his mind. "Excuse me? Are you coming with him to the hospital?" It was a woman, mousy brown hair tied up in a pony tail, she had a look of pity that made Dan want to throw up on the spot. The other paramedic, a man, was helping Phil to stand up. "Y-Yes. I'm coming." Dan nodded, feeling the woman's hand between his shoulder blades to push him forwards. He waited for Phil and looked at the male paramedic, smiling slightly, "I'll walk him from here." 

Phil was a deadweight against Dan, and it felt like he was being crushed both by him, and the overwhelming fear. All he could focus on was holding him to walk down the steps and the frightened sobs that were coming from Phil. 

He didn't have a clue what was going to hit him.

The paramedic strapped Phil into the bed, Dan coiled himself into one of the hard seats. There was a third paramedic that was driving the ambulance, and the man got in beside him with the woman in the back. 

"He'll be okay, won't he?" Dan asked, chewing on the side of his nail anxiously. Phil didn't like needles, he hated the feeling of them being pushed into his veins, but he didn't react when he had one pushed into his hand. "There's no way of saying. I'm sorry, I never got your name?"

"Daniel."

"I'm sure Mr Lester will be fine, he'll-"

"Please call him Phil, I hate the formality of all of this." 

Dan really did hate it, it reminded him of when he was in hospital. Phil would bring him McDonald's secretly and they'd laugh whenever a nurse glanced a knowing eye at them. It was a joke to them for Dan to whine that he was dying, Phil listing off the songs he wanted at the funeral and promising to make sure he looked amazing in his casket. 

That was all fun and games. For some reason, Dan had a gut feeling that this time wasn't going to be so fun. But he shoved it back, he was always pessimistic. He replaced those thoughts with knowing Phil would recover, after all, it wasn't as if he was flat lining right in front of him.

The ambulance ride was pretty silent, Phil had closed his eyes and his breathing was steady, the woman was tapping things onto some kind of tablet, and Dan was lost in his own thoughts of what they'd do when this ordeal was over with. He had a plan to propose to Phil soon, he wanted to solidify everything they'd been through and make the huge leap. Everyone thought they were married anyway. 

Hospitals smell of disinfectant, and Dan grimaced at it when he stepped through the doors of the emergency department alongside the stretcher bed Phil was on. He was still asleep, body tired from what it'd been too, and the woman wasn't rushing all that much. "Daniel? Can I ask what relation you are to Phil?" She spoke up, but didn't look. It took Dan by surprise, he was always with Phil and he'd forgotten people didn't know that automatically. "I'm his boyfriend. Soon to be fiancé." He didn't know why he added the last part, he just wanted to say it to someone. "That's lovely, I hope everything goes well for you." But she still didn't look at Dan, he didn't really know what she was looking at. She was just staring into space, instinct taking them to a ward. 

He had to wait outside while they hooked Phil up to different machines and settled him in a bed and in a gown. Dan wanted to shout at them, telling them that he should be the one putting Phil in a gown so he didn't feel weird about it all, but he couldn't. 

It felt like hours before someone told him he could go in, and he went in like a shot. Phil was awake, a bit groggy but awake nonetheless. "You're an idiot, you scared me to death." He laughed, taking a seat in the plastic chair and taking Phil's hand. "That was the plan." 

"I'll go home and bring your stuff back, and grab us some McDonald's for old time's sake?" Phil was aching all over, so turning his neck was alarmingly painful, but he managed to nod slightly and smile. "Well, Lester, I'll be back in 2 hours tops, don't get going anywhere!" 

1 hour and 49 minutes later, Dan burst through the doors of the room Phil was given, swinging a duffle bag over his shoulders. "I have seen some horrors in my life, but never as bad as what was in your bedside drawer." He raised his eyebrow and watched an alarming blush spread on Phil's cheeks in contrast to his pasty skin. "I just want food." Phil croaked. 

It wasn't long before Dan had wolfed down a Big Mac and Phil had had his cheese burger, they had a strange argument about who was going to have which thing, sharing a coke as they did. They had to hide the bag so the nurses wouldn't get suspicious if they did a surprise visit for Phil. 

It was getting on for 7pm and Phil was sleeping, he was tired out from the small events of the day. Dan was beginning to drop off too; his head kept falling to look at the floor and his hand loosened it's grip on Phil's. The blinds had been pulled down the small door window and the one at the side of the room so they could get some rest. 

After 4 months of Dan falling asleep at his bedside with him, Phil was wide awake with fright.

4 months of tests and nothing had come back, and the pain that Phil experienced wouldn't go away no matter what he did to help himself. Dan insisted on sitting in when doctors came to talk, but Phil had to force him to go home and have a shower and get some real food - not just sloppy hospital food or protein bars from the extremely overpriced store. 

They'd done a blog type video in the hospital where they announced a short break from YouTube for Phil to recover, and Dan stressed that they would both come back with a bang. The thing that broke Phil's heart was that Dan seemed so sure he'd recover. But he might not. It wasn't that Phil had been told for sure, but the pain was worse and he felt lethargic constantly, not that he'd tell Dan. 

Viewers tweeted good wishes, checking up on him and asking if he was getting out anytime soon, but Phil couldn't answer any of them. People were under the impression that he was the strong one, that he never had any issues, but it wasn't the case this time. When Dan left his side to get Phil a new book, or to shower, or tend to the house plants  (which were actually living), he'd cry. Phil would coil up on himself and sob until he couldn't anymore. 

Dan got loopy off of morphine when he was given it, but Phil just felt numb. It never did last very long, the pain kicked back in soon enough, but the doctors simply shrugged and gave Phil a look of pity.  

But Dan let his smile falter eventually, the optimism wore thin. He'd started to spend more time at the hospital and neglected his self care. Phil had to smile and force Dan to go take a shower and eat, but he hated seeing it happen because he was suppose to be the strong one. Everyone said it. Phil was the sun. Phil made Dan happy, and now Dan was sad. He'd noticed that Dan was losing weight and the bags under his eyes were a harsh purple. 

"Dan, please can you get some rest and eat." 

"I'm not leaving you."

"Please, you're tired and lying by my bed isn't helping you."

"I'm not."

They had that conversation every couple of days and it never ended any different, Dan only left when he really needed a shower, and he was back within an hour.

But exactly 4 months and 16 days after he was admitted, Phil got the news he dreaded. Dan had gone to have a shower, and the doctors had noticed the way he was acting. Dr Stevens, Phil's doctor, decided to have a one-to-one conversation with Phil about what was happening. 

"Hello Phil, how are you feeling today?" He grinned, holding his clipboard to his chest. "I'm all fine and dandy, feeling like I can run a marathon today!" He laughed, but it came out like sandpaper on his throat. "Now, what you really feel like?" He took the plastic chair - not the plush one that they'd allowed Dan, it turned into a bed - crossing his ankles over. "I'm just aching, I feel like I'm swimming all the time." He scribbled some things down on the paper. "Okay, now, Philip," the full name. "I have to tell you, I have some bad news." And Phil knew. He knew exactly what was going on. "I'm dying, aren't I?" Phil had a kind of calm about him, it made the doctor stutter a little. "Yes. Philip, I know it's a lot to digest, but it's quick." The doctor went on about various counts, different cells and scans and results, but Phil zoned out. 

Dan. 

He was leaving Dan.

By the time the doctor left, he'd told Phil he would know when it was happening with him being restless and with low blood pressure, but that he'd just know. He'd also asked if he could speak to Dan, but Phil would never allow that. He had to tell Dan, but he had no clue how he was going to go about it. The doctor thought that Phil could maybe write a letter for Dan to keep and remember him by, that it'd be nice, and one for his video viewers if needed. It sounded like a good idea, so Phil naturally asked for a stack of paper, envelopes and a pen or two. 

Dan shuffled in about 45 minutes after the doctor had left, his head hung low and for a moment Phil got scared that he knew. "Dan? What's wrong?" He said, reaching up to get his hand. "Louise, PJ, and a few others, they want me to go out with them at the weekend to try and liven me up..." He averted Phil's eyes and sighed. "Phone, give me your phone." Phil pointed at the outline in Dan's jeans. "Why do you want it?" He asked, getting it out and passing it over. He didn't bother unlocking it, Phil knew the code. "I'm texting Louise. You're going to go and have fun, I'll be okay." He was typing fast, the tubes attached to him weren't holding him back at all. "Phil-"

But it was too late, he'd sent the message and was handing the phone back to Dan. "I don't want to leave you." He frowned, but Phil just stuck his tongue out slightly. "Well, you have to." 

Things carried on the same for the rest of that week, but Dan was a little happier than he had been. He was rambling on about random things, and when he was gone Phil got to writing. 

The Friday rolled around too soon and Phil begged Dan to get him a McDonald's and to spend the day with him, he didn't want him to leave. Up until then he was at peace with dying, he was serene, but now he didn't want to go. But he couldn't stop it anymore than Dan could, and he still didn't know. All he needed to know was written in the letters, everything was there. He'd written 2 for Dan, 1 for his subscribers, 1 for his parents, 1 for Martyn and Cornelia and 1 for his other friends. All were in green metallic envelops that the doctor got for Phil especially. 

Dan had spent the night with Phil because he wouldn't be seeing him at the weekend, but Phil lay awake staring at Dan. He was beautiful, everything about him was beautiful; not that Dan saw it enough. It was all in the letter so that he could read it whenever he needed to, but the toughest thing was when he told Dan to live. To move on. 

Dan and Phil. 

Daniel Howell. 

Phil wouldn't be there anymore. 

People would slip up, say his name, but then he'd be a distant memory and would fade away. 

"Morning Lester." Were the first words out of his mouth on the Friday morning, his hair was messy and eyes half shut with the remains of sleep. "Good morning Howell." One of Phil's arms was slung over his eyes, keeping him from facing the day and to hide his tears from Dan. 

He was dying. 

"Phil?" Dan took his wrist and took his arm away from his eyes, "Phil, what's wrong? Have the doctors said anything?" It was the perfect time to tell him, but Dan needed to go out with Louise and their friends. He needed to be Dan without Phil, needed to live like Phil couldn't. "I'm fine, really." Phil smiled, but the look he got in response was skeptical. "No, you aren't. You've been crying." Phil just hugged him, babbled that he was just in pain and that he didn't want him to worry and for the weekend to be ruined. Dan would have to leave at 10 to meet Louise and go wherever it was that she wanted to go with them all. "Will you be okay all weekend on your own?" Dan asked when the clock hit 9, he was on his phone showing Phil a video of a corgi. "I will, things are going to be okay." 

When it got to 10, Dan kissed Phil goodbye and promised that the weekend would go quickly and they'd be together soon. The hardest thing was smiling through it all, because Phil knew he wouldn't be here on Monday. He felt lost, numb, weightless, all the things that were a cliché. 

He checked all the letters that evening, but his head was somewhere else, then lay them on the visitors bed next to him. 

And then he shut his eyes. 

He slept through the night, but on Saturday morning he felt worse. He was restless and the pain was too much to be awake for. 

So he shut his eyes again.

Only this time, he didn't open them. 

Dan got a phone call at exactly 12:23 from an unknown number, so he answered it.

"Hello, is this Mr Howell? Philip Lester's boyfriend?"

Everyone stared at Dan.

"Yes, it's me. Is he... Is he okay?" Dan was clutching the phone, as if it were Phil. Deep down, he knew what had happened. "I suggest you come down to the hospital, it looks like he didn't tell you about this?" The voice on the other end said, it showed no emotion at all. "About what? For fucks sake, just tell me!" Dan was shouting into the phone, no one knew how to react to it at all. "Mr Lester has passed on, but there's some things here for you, I am so sorry." 

Dan hit the button to end the call and sank to his knees. "Phil..." The word he uttered so often, the man he loved, gone. "Phil... Phil..." He was repeating it over and over, everyone exchanged a glance. "Dan, what's happened?" Louise crouched to meet his eyes. "Phil... He's gone..."

'Dear Dan,

I love you. That's why I couldn't tell you that I was dying, I couldn't break your heart like that. I promise it was quick, I'll always be there. If I can, I'll haunt you until the end of time! 

That would be selfish of me really. 

You need to live. I want you to live, love, and to smile. You, Daniel James Howell, have made me the happiest man ever. I wanted to grow old with you, have a few kids and dogs, but unfortunately it didn't turn out like that. Life can be selfish. There are more letters to be given out, please don't isolate yourself, my family will always love you and be there for you too, just keep your chin up.

Once again, I love you. So much. More than you will ever know. 

- love from Phil x'

[samingtonwilson]

Loot - Part 4 - Jim Kirk

Loot masterlist

Word count: 2,486 Warnings: language, mentions of abuse/injuries

A/N: another long part filled with nonsense. this part really got away from me tbh, it’ll be totally back on track soon. it just doesn’t feel believable to me to have something intense happen every time (although, arguably, believability is shot to hell when you’re writing about a sci-fi franchise). i wanted this story to be more about the reader and their feelings and jim and his feelings. i hope his feelings toward the reader are obvious without me having to point blank write them-- like i hope you can tell through mannerisms. anyway, i’ve had a trying week and apologize if i missed some typos. lemme know if you wanna be tagged! ENJOY AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK

The artifact was becoming a pain— something you could say literally after the ancient hunk of metal scalded the skin of your palm and wrist, and something you could say figuratively after you were forced out of your oven-like temporary quarters more often than not for the past three days.

According to a drunken, loud-mouthed Ensign Chekov, the Enterprise had flown through a nebula that threw off the ship’s electrical balance. It caused the air systems, the warp core, and practically every electronic on the ship to be knocked out of equilibrium and into much more volatile, unpredictable states—  a statement you could confirm due to the onset timing of the artifact’s volatility.

When it came to the air systems, cool air would blast out of the vent when warm air was desired and vice versa. As for the warp core, several engineers found themselves in the medbay clutching burns from the core’s overheating while electronics such as communicators and PADDs shorted out, shut off, and came back to life upon whim.

Hearing that all the malfunctions were due to a nebula was a relief but the initial worry you experienced lingered a little. You wondered if the problems were being exacerbated by the artifact and almost had your suspicions confirmed when rumor had it the ship’s chief engineer, Scotty claimed this particular nebula couldn’t have been the only cause for so many issues.

You found yourself wishing you’d taken Jim up on his offer to explain to you why the artifact was so important. You also found yourself wishing you could pry a window open and throw the damn thing into the dark abyss of space— no amount of tuition was worth the pain it was causing you and the potential pain it could cause the hundreds of people on board.

As you sat atop a biobed in Exam Room 1 of the medbay, you swung your legs in order to appear more nonchalant than your ever-circulating thoughts actually had you feeling. You watched McCoy stand with his back against the edge of the counter, his hazel eyes narrowed as he read the screen of his PADD with his most casual frown.

“You can tell me if I’m dying— I’m strong enough to take it.”

“You’re not dyin’,” he snorted, his typical peach cobbler Southern drawl sounding thicker somehow. “You want to tell me how you keep gettin’ these burns, though?”

You clicked your tongue. “I told you all I had to tell three days ago.”

“Yeah, yeah— the malfunctions are making your replicator short out. It’s just, these don’t look like burns from hot dishes.”

“Then pray tell, Doctor, what do they look like?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “They’re too extensive to have been caused by what you’re suggesting— a grab-and-drop scenario. It’s like you held onto whatever it was while it burnt you.”

He softened his features then— his nostrils were no longer flared, his eyebrows were knit together, and his frown shrunk. He pulled a stool and placed it in front of you, sitting upon it and taking your hand in his.

You looked at him confusedly and blinked.

“You’re not doin’ this to yourself, are you, darlin’?” he asked in a quiet voice filled with a degree of understanding you didn’t know any human being could be capable of. His eyes seemed to melt like chocolate before you. “I can see from your file you haven’t had it easy. Treatments for the odd bouts of internal bleeding, spiral fractures, burns— it's all typical of something that raises a red flag.”

“Yeah? A red flag?” you asked with overly mock curiosity. “Indicative of what?”

“Abuse.”

You scoffed. “I was a student athlete,” you told him easily. So easily, in fact, that you weren’t worried about your voice shaking, nor were you worried about it heightening in octaves. You were able to keep your gaze steadily in his. You’d said those words too many times for them to not come out flawlessly. “Everyone broke a fair share of bones and was covered in bruises.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What about the burns?”

“Recent burns or historically?”

“Historically, sweetheart.”

“I’m a terrible cook,” you shrugged again. You once again had no issues keeping your voice still and your gaze steady. “Resilient, since I keep trying, but terrible. Had the fire department at the ready each time I picked up a pan.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“(Y/N), —”

“Enough, Bones!” you almost shouted, the nickname flowing out naturally most likely due to the extensive amount of time you spent with Jim. As blood rose to the tips of your ears and the base of your throat, you clutched onto the edges of the biobed. “Right now, these burns are because of a replicator and healing them should be your only concern. My history—” you sighed out a curse and shook your head once. “I don’t even know most of my history.”

“You know, your past can impact your future,” he added after a few beats of silence.

“Thank you, Sigmund Freud,” you said dryly, smiling when his lips curved upwards and he shook with silent laughter. You set your hand on his shoulder. “I’m aware of what the past can do. But you have nothing to worry about— not with past me, or current me. It’s just a replicator.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

He nodded once. “All right, I’ll take your word for it.”

He rose from the stool and kicked it aside with the sole of his boot. He picked his PADD up once more and began tapping on the screen. “I’ll give you a salve to take back to your quarters— an extra large jar because you don’t seem to be learnin’ your lesson with that replicator.”

“I won’t have to come back here?”

He glanced at you and snorted. “Don’t look so happy ‘bout that. It hurts my ego.”

You laughed. “Sorry. It’s not you. It’s this exam room, this medbay, this ship.” You shook your head and wet your lips. “I just want to be back on Earth— forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Careful who you say that to, sweetheart. You might break a heart without realizin’ it.”

Though it was nowhere near the path you were meant to be taking, you stopped at the observation deck prior to even contemplating sending the turbolift to Excited Ensign Village. Of course, you were prompted to do so by a transmission McCoy received on his communicator and didn’t go on your own accord— a fact that, alone, decreased your cognitive dissonance tenfold only to have it shoot back up the moment you felt your own excitement.

You weren’t dating Jim. There was no feasible way you, a cadet with sticky fingers, could date Jim, golden boy and captain of the best ship in the fleet. You were aboard his ship, for crying out loud— a ship you were only still on due to medical orders and a ship you originally boarded due to the artifact which was metaphorically, and quite literally, burning a hole in your quarters. You were just sleeping with him— nothing more, nothing less. It was a violation of goodness knows how many rules, but Jim never made you feel for an instant that he didn’t think the infringements were worth it.

You were having trouble convincing yourself that you didn’t want to actually date Jim, that you didn’t like Jim as much as your body would have you believing. Your heartbeat would slowly increase at the sight of him, grinning thuds almost bursting through your ribs whenever he touched you— your skin would react as well, goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips and fingertips, and your knees would betray you at any opportunity. It was unlike the feelings of attraction and fondness you had previously experienced and the whole thing, beyond physiological reactions, made you sick.

You were disgusted at yourself for the way your body reacted to him, yes, but you were more disgusted at the tendency of your mind to drop whatever guard you had. In your mind, you shouldn’t have been so comfortable around him and you should have kept yourself away from him the moment he went from being a stranger to someone you wanted to call your own.

You pulled your sleeves over your hands so the ends reached your fingertips and cleared your throat as you stepped into the observation lounge to gain Jim’s attention. When he turned halfway to meet your gaze, you nodded towards the extremely large window he stood before. “This is nice.”

He hummed in agreement, turning back around. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, his back straight in tense-Captain-Mode as his jaw was hardened into sharp lines. “Yeah, it is. It’s my favorite place on the ship.”

“Aside from your chair?”

He laughed through his nose, looking over at you when you stood beside him to stare at the thick glass. You saw in his reflection that the smile over his lips was small, but it touched his eyes. He leaned towards you and said softly, “Including my chair.”

As you turned your head to face him, your nose brushed against his. You watched while his posture lost a bit of staunch. You had to stop yourself from kissing him the instant he momentarily glanced at your lips. “Including? You must really have a thing for this window.”

He hummed again. He bumped his shoulder against yours so you staggered to the side, a smile playing at his plump lips. “I come here whenever I’ve had a stressful day and it just… it puts everything in perspective.”

“So you had a stressful day?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Just wanted to share this with you in case you’re ever stressed, uneasy, or upset. On the Enterprise, on Earth, wherever you end up, looking at the stars really puts things into perspective.”

“The whole ‘we’re so small, our problems are so small’ thing?”

He clicked his tongue. “The whole ‘there’s always light’ thing.”

You wanted to smile but frowned in consideration instead. “That’s awfully poetic. Why me, though?”

He hummed questioningly without looking away from the view before him.

“Why did you decide to share this with me? Does it seem like I’m upset, or stressed, or uneasy?”

He ignored your question. “I know you aren’t a fan of where your quarters are, but injuring yourself to take up residence in the medbay is somewhat excessive.”

“I’m not injuring myself.”

“Then how do you explain that?” he asked, nodding his head towards your gauze wrapped wrist and forearm.

You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes on the glass, staring at his reflection rather than letting your eyes meet his. “Well, I don’t explain it. Because I don’t feel the need to.”

Jim snorted and shook his head. He held his hand out and wiggled his fingers wordlessly.

“I understand that this window makes you emotional and deep, Jimbo, but I’m not going to hold your hand for support,” you said dryly, trying to suppress a smile when he clicked his tongue.

“Give me your damn arm, Cadet.”

You turned your body to face him entirely and set your forearm in his hand with admittedly a bit more force than you should’ve, a sharp pang of pain coursing up your limb. You weren’t able to hide a hiss and wince.

His eyes flew to yours as he heard the sharp inhale through your teeth. The baby blue of his irises and the concern overflowing from them made your breath hitch in your throat. For your own good, you wanted to look away but, for the life of you, you couldn’t.

“What happened?”

“My attitude overtook my better judgement.”

“Consider it a punishment for insubordination,” he mumbled as he undid the gauze wrapping. He narrowed his eyes at your arm and sighed. “These look bad.”

“They’ll be fine soon enough— probably won’t even leave a mark.”

He looked at you incredulously. “Why would marks be my concern?”

“I can’t imagine why any of this is your concern.”

If you’d thought there was no way he could look more outraged, you were proven wrong then. He didn’t speak on it, though, only winding the bandage once again. He reclasped the metal hook so your wound was bound tightly and turned your hand over, looking at your palm. “The burns hurting you, the cause of the burns— those are my concern.”

You averted your gaze and took your hand from his. You set your fingertips on the glass, your palms flat against the surface. You caught a glimpse of his reflection and noticed his eyes on you, his arms crossed over his chest. “Chekov told me your chief engineer’s trying to track down the source of all the electrical shortages. He doesn’t think it’s just that nebula?”

“No, he doesn’t,” Jim answered, his eyes watching your fingertips as you absentmindedly pressed them in each place you saw the glow of a far off star. “Scotty thinks the effects of the nebula should’ve worn off by now, but next to nothing’s returned to homeostasis. You know, you can’t count the stars no matter what system you use.”

You frowned, stretching your arm to reach higher stars. “What do you think?”

“That you may be smart, but every system fails. There are too many stars.”

“About Scotty’s theory, you idiot,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“I think I have no knowledge on anything pertaining to engineering.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have an opinion.”

“My opinion is you should stop burning yourself.”

You glared at him and pinched his arm with as much force as you could muster, his hand slapping yours away as he yelped in surprise pain. “Is he going to investigate it further?”

Jim kept rubbing his bicep. “He’s planning on it. He thinks he can detect where the frequencies are highest and go from there.”

“Frequencies?”

“Electro… something. I told you I have no knowledge on anything having to do with this stuff.” He eyed you for a second with a single eyebrow raised. “Why are you so interested?”

You did your best to look nonchalant. “There’s nothing else to do on this ship. No one’s doing anything noteworthy— Uhura and the Vulcan are being amicable about their break-up, McCoy won’t fuck the nurse he’s into, Chekov refuses to shit talk anyone even when he’s drunk, you’re only sleeping with one person—”

“You.”

You laughed as you spoke, smiling up at Jim as his arms wrapped around your waist, “Yeah, but you could sleep with few more people! Give me something to talk about, something to focus on!”

He pressed his lips to yours for a moment that was much too short. “I’m not looking to sleep with other people.”

“Really? Your fanclub was wrong about you.”

tag list: @outside-the-government @daughterofthebrowncoats @multifandom-slytherin @buckyy3s @cinema212 @caaptain @dani-fae